by L A Dobbs
“Would seem that way,” Sam said. “But maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was in there, doing something, and we scared him off. John did say it looked as if someone had gone through Dupont’s pockets. If this was Thorne’s doing, he might have instructed the killer to look for incriminating evidence.”
“We called it in right away, so the timeline would make sense,” Jo added.
“Didn’t you hear a vehicle driving off?” Bev asked.
Jo exchanged a glance with Sam. “No. Well, tell the truth, it was kind of loud with all the pigeons flapping around in there. And we didn’t see an SUV, but if it was parked down the road in the woods, we wouldn’t have seen it, and the sound of the engine would have been barely audible inside the mill.” Great, now she was thinking up lies off the cuff and telling them to the county sheriff.
Wyatt glanced at the corkboard. “So the SUV that Rita saw could be the killer’s?”
“Most likely.” Bev looked at Sam. “Is there any other reason someone would be out there? Another building or someone’s home?”
“There’re walking trails out there. Someone could have parked to use the trails and just happened to be leaving at that time,” Sam said.
“Either way, it would be good to find this person. If not the killer, they might have seen something.”
“I’ll do a search of all the black SUVs in the area,” Wyatt said.
“Good idea. I’ll shoot back to my office and follow up with the lab on the gun. See if they found anything else,” Bev said.
“Jo and I will check out the lead we got from Jesse,” Sam said. “And I’ll get Reese to call Rita to see if she can come in later this afternoon.”
“Let me know what time, and I’ll swing by and sit in.” Bev glanced at the package wrapped in pink cellophane on Sam’s desk, her nose wrinkling. “Let’s just hope she doesn’t bring more fruitcake.”
Chapter Ten
Kevin arrived home from the morning shift to find a note from his contact under the mat at his back door. Damn, he was hoping the contact might have lost interest, because he hadn’t heard from him in a while. No such luck.
He brought the note inside and fixed a cup of tea. His hands shook as he opened it. What would they want now? With the ongoing investigation of the mayor’s murder, Kevin didn’t have a good feeling about what the contact was going to ask him to do.
The words were scrawled, as if someone was trying to hide their handwriting. But the message was clear. Steer the investigation toward Sam Mason’s cabin. Critical evidence under the doghouse.
Kevin burned the note and then sat contemplating what to do. Someone was trying to frame Sam. Now he knew for sure that Sam and Jo weren’t doing anything wrong. His contact had been the one working for the wrong side all along. Probably working for Thorne.
There was no way Kevin would let Sam go down for this murder. For once in his life, he had to go out on a limb and do something. He had to make up for the information he’d passed along this past year.
Kevin had an idea, but he’d have to be careful. It would mean crossing Thorne, which might result in Kevin ending up dead in a pool of blood just like Dupont. But if he played his cards right, maybe he could pull it off.
He was in a good position because he could pass information that would put off discovering whatever was under the dog house back to his contact. He could make it seem as though he was setting things up so the evidence stuck. Meanwhile, he had an idea of how he could get both him and Sam out of this and possibly get something they could use against Thorne.
He got in his car and drove to the woods near Sam’s cabin. He knew Sam was at work and no one was home, but he didn’t want his car seen at Sam’s house. He parked on another street and took a trail through the woods that brought him near the back of Sam’s property.
He stuck to the edge of the woods, following it to Sam’s backyard. The doghouse that Sam had built for Lucy was at the very edge of the woods, under a stand of pine trees.
It wasn’t hard to figure out where they’d buried something. Kevin got on his hands and knees and carefully scraped away the dirt from under the northwest corner of the doghouse like an archaeologist uncovering a precious artifact. But it wasn’t an artifact. It was a bloody glove. Presumably one of the gloves that Dupont’s killer had worn.
Kevin put on his own gloves to transfer the bloody one into an evidence bag. He didn’t want any of his DNA on there. Then he filled the hole, covering it to make sure that no one could tell the ground had been disturbed.
As he drove back home, he passed the new Thorne construction site at the top of the hill. The view was astounding, rolling mountains that gave way to the clear blue lake. It had been a farm once, and now Thorne was turning it into a hotel.
A construction site was the perfect place to hide the glove. Thorne thought he was so clever, planting it to frame Sam. Now Kevin was going to turn the tables. He would sneak back late at night and bury it at the construction site, then at the right moment, when they were about to close in on Thorne, he’d tell Sam and Jo where to find it.
It was a good plan but risky. He’d have to time it perfectly. That glove could not be discovered until the very last minute, when they were about to lock Thorne away. Because Thorne would know who’d planted it, and once it came in as evidence, Kevin’s life would be in danger unless Thorne wasn’t in a position to order retaliation.
Chapter Eleven
Sam wasn’t surprised that no one was home at Scott Elliott’s. Judging by the newspapers piled on the cement steps of the modest split-level ranch, it looked like no one had been there for almost a week. Since Dupont’s murder.
“Nothing to see out back,” Jo said as she trotted around from the back of the house, Lucy on her heels. “I looked in the windows. There’s no sign of struggle.”
Sam flipped up the top of the mailbox attached to the side of the house. Empty. “If Elliott hasn’t been here, where’s his mail?” Sam pointed to the pile of papers on the stoop. “The newspapers have piled up, but no mail.”
Jo came to stand beside him and looked over his shoulder into the mailbox. “You think someone took it?”
“No idea.”
“You suppose he could’ve planned to go away, knowing he would be involved in Dupont’s murder?”
“I don’t think so. The meeting with Dupont wasn’t planned. At least not that I know of. Dupont set the time and date, and that was only a few hours before we met.” Sam turned to look at Jo. “How could Elliott have known in advance?”
“I remember last time I went on vacation, it took at least a week to stop the mail. I guess he really could be on vacation.”
“You mean he might not even be involved. I suppose that’s possible.” Sam turned and looked over the suburban neighborhood. It had been developed about forty years ago, and the houses were spaced far apart with thick, mature landscaping between them.
It wasn’t an upscale neighborhood. It was more the kind of neighborhood with elderly residents just hanging on to the homes they’d lived in all their lives. Maybe some of those neighbors were nosey. Sam made a mental note to canvass the neighborhood and ask the neighbors if they’d seen anything, even though he doubted they would have. With no signs of struggle and the fact that Jesse said that Scott never did business from home, he figured there would be little information to glean from the neighbors. Hell, Elliott really could just be on vacation.
Jo chewed her bottom lip as they walked down the steps together. “I don’t know. This is all getting kind of weird. I’m nervous about Rita mentioning that SUV. I’m sure it was Mick’s.”
Sam nodded. He was sure it was Mick’s too. “But Rita doesn’t see very well, and she probably doesn’t know what make or model she saw. How many SUVs do you think there are? Hopefully, she won’t remember more about it.” He took his phone from his pocket and texted Mick. “I’m giving Mick a heads-up. Plus, we need him to step up that investigation into the grandson. Now that we know that fingerprint links
Tyler’s and Dupont’s cases, we need to continue to pursue that angle hard.” He looked up at Jo. “I’m gonna meet him at Holy Spirits tonight. You in?”
“Definitely.”
“Too bad Elliott’s prints weren’t in the database. He could be the killer, and he could know about Tyler’s murder. We need to find him.” Sam watched Lucy. She was honed in on a trash can, her nose working overtime.
“Maybe we could get a warrant and see if we can lift any fingerprints from inside the house,” Jo suggested. “That would tell us if Elliott left the fingerprints.”
“Might be hard to convince a judge that we have probable cause, but we can try.” Sam headed to Lucy and lifted the lid on the trash barrel. The stench of sour milk and rotten vegetables stung his nose. He made a face and slammed the lid quickly. “Maybe we’ll include the trash on the warrant. You never know what Scott Elliott might have thrown away. Lucy seems to have a keen nose.”
“Right. I agree. Maybe Wyatt can look through the trash.” Jo stepped back from the trash, her fingers pinching her nose.
“Yeah, and we don’t want to have to keep lying to the sheriff.” Sam slid a glance at her, and Jo grimaced. Sam had been surprised when she’d come up with the lie about the pigeons masking the noise of the SUV. He’d never known she was such a good liar. Made him wonder if she lied about anything else.
“I know. Sorry. I panicked. Tell the truth, even I was surprised that I could come up with a lie so quickly. It wasn’t really a lie, though. I mean, those pigeons were loud, and anyway, it won’t affect the outcome of the case because we know Mick didn’t kill Dupont. In fact, my lie probably helped us. Having Mick as a suspect would only muddy the waters. It would take from resources looking for the actual killer.” Jo glanced up at Sam from under her lashes, her gray eyes turning serious. “I wouldn’t ever lie about anything big.”
Something passed between them. Sam wasn’t sure exactly what it was. Trust. Friendship. Something more? Sam nodded. “I know. I trust you. You did the right thing.”
A look of relief spread across Jo’s face, and Sam’s gaze drifted to Lucy, now sitting by the truck. “Come on. We’d better get back to the station and get this warrant in process. I don’t know if Judge Firth will grant it. We don’t really have any evidence except Jessie telling us that Scott Elliott was his drug contact, and I’d kind of like to keep Jesse out of it. Plus, we don’t want to tip our hand to Firth that we suspect Thorne in case he’s in his pocket.”
“It’s worth a try. What else can we do?” Jo asked.
Sam opened the door to the truck and glanced back at the house. “I don’t have a good feeling. If Elliott is involved, he would have information on Thorne. But where is Elliott? His disappearance is setting off alarm bells for me. He could be in danger. We need to bring him in alive so we can find out what he knows about Thorne.”
Chapter Twelve
Jo went straight to her desk when they got back to the station. Sam had gone into his office with a stack of mail after instructing Reese on how to fill out the request for the warrant they needed to gain access to Scott Elliott’s place. Jo didn’t envy him the job of sorting through the mail. Judging by the way it was piling up on the corner of his desk, she knew that Sam didn’t like the job any more than she did. He could have delegated it to one of them, but that was just like Sam to do the crap jobs himself instead of making someone else suffer.
A note from Wyatt sat on her desk. On it were the results of his research into the black SUV seen the night of Dupont’s murder. Apparently, there were more than two thousand black SUVs registered in a thirty-mile radius. Good. That would make it nearly impossible to trace the vehicle to Mick.
Lucy had her nose in the trash can beside Jo’s desk. She was sniffing hard enough to make the discarded doughnut bag crinkle. Jo leaned over and nudged the bag open.
“There’s nothing in here but crumbs,” she said to Lucy.
Lucy wagged her tail and cocked her head to the side.
“No, you eat enough treats. We don’t want you to get fat.”
The fur on Lucy’s brow crinkled into a frown. She cast a longing glance at the bag then glared at Jo before trotting to her dog bed and pulling it into the pool of sunlight that streamed in from one of the large windows.
The dog really did have a good nose. Had Lucy smelled something important in the trash at Scott Elliott’s, or had all that spoiled food drawn her interest? In previous cases, Lucy had proved that she’d had a nose for clues and not just food.
“What are you thinking?” Sam stood beside her desk, looking down at her.
“Just about Lucy sniffing the trash at Elliott’s. Could be a clue in there.”
“Or food. But anyway, Reese is putting the warrants together today. I’m going to have Kevin see if Scott Elliott was planning a trip.”
Reese appeared in the squad room. “I’ve got that paperwork all set for the judge. Wyatt’s out on a call, and Rita is coming in twenty minutes. Sheriff Hatch is on her way.”
As if she’d been summoned by her words, they heard the lobby door open, and Bev Hatch came into the squad room. Reese went back to her desk after the two women exchanged greetings.
“Any luck with that contact?” Bev asked.
“Wasn’t home. Looked like he’d been gone a while,” Sam said.
Bev’s left brow quirked up. “Left in a hurry?”
“Maybe.”
“Interesting. Well, I have a couple of new things to report. The blood on the leaf matches Dupont’s, so if we can match the fingerprint, we can tie that person to the crime scene.”
“That will come in handy if we pull in some viable suspects,” Sam said. “What’s the other thing?”
“The lab found a small fragment of black hair in the chamber of the gun.”
“A hair?” Sam asked, his eyes flicking to Jo. “Great! Then we can get DNA from it. Narrow down the suspects by hair color.”
Bev shook her head. “Not human. It was an animal hair.”
Jo glanced at Lucy. Lucy hadn’t been with them.
“Not sure the hair will help much. It was in the chamber, so it got in when the gun was loaded unless the chamber was opened after. There could have been animals in the mill, but I have no idea why the killer would open the chamber again. The presence of animals might explain some of the odd smudges the guys at the lab noticed when they blew up the photographs to do some mockups of the murder.” Bev slid a suspicious side-eyed look at Sam and Jo. “Did you guys notice that?”
“We suspected the killer had moved stuff around the scene. So smudges didn’t seem out of place,” Sam said.
Bev nodded slowly, apparently satisfied with his explanation.
“I guess that makes sense.”
The lobby door opened again, and Jo heard Reese greet Rita Hoelscher and direct her to the squad room. A few seconds later, Rita shuffled around the post office boxes, her hands full of miniature fruitcakes wrapped in colorful cellophane. Rita was a short, thin woman with a wild shock of white hair and wrinkles on her wrinkles. Her eyes flitted from Sam to Bev to Jo. Then she looked at the empty desks. “Where’s that nice Officer Wyatt?”
“He’s out at a fender bender,” Sam said.
Rita’s face collapsed in disappointment as Sam accepted the fruitcakes.
“But it’s nice of you to come by, Rita,” Sam said. ”We’ll see that he gets these.”
Rita looked down at the fruitcakes. “Oh these are for all of you, not just Officer Wyatt.”
Sam feigned excitement. “Oh, really? I get one too? That’s awfully nice of you. Thank you so much.”
Rita eyed them suspiciously, especially Bev. “Well, did you want something? Reese told me to come down.”
Bev stepped forward, holding out her hand. “I’m Bev Hatch, the county sheriff. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Rita Hoelscher. Nice to meet you too.” Her eyes slid to Sam. “Am I in trouble?”
Sam pulled out a chair and gestured for Rita t
o sit. “No, not at all, Rita. Wyatt told us that you saw a vehicle the night that Mayor Dupont was ... well, the other night.”
Rita slowly crumpled into the chair. “I did. That’s true.”
“Could you tell us about it?” Bev asked.
Rita sat straighter. “Why, yes, I’d be happy to. I was walking Bitsy because she likes to walk in the woods. She loves to munch on those curly fiddlehead ferns.” Rita stopped, slapping her hands to her cheeks and looking at Bev and Sam. “Oh dear, I hope those aren’t endangered or anything. Is that why you called me in here?”
Sam smiled and patted Rita’s hand. “No, not at all. We just want to hear about the vehicle.”
“Oh, right. Well, we were walking along, and I heard the siren in the distance. It’s always disturbing, you know.” She glanced up at Sam and Bev. “So anyway, the walking trail that Bitsy likes is parallel to that old road that leads to the mill. I guess people use it as a shortcut, though I hardly ever see any cars except the UPS truck, the mailman, and of course, the garbageman.”
Bev glanced at Jo and raised a brow. Sometimes it took witnesses a while to get to the point.
“I know the road,” Sam said. “Now, do you remember what kind of vehicle it was? Did you see the driver?”
Rita scrunched up her face, causing her wrinkles to battle with each other for surface space. “No, I didn’t see who was driving. The leaves were in the way, and it was going too fast. These young folks these days, they really need to slow down. Maybe you should put a speed trap up on that road,” Rita suggested.
“We’ll take that under advisement,” Sam said.
Bev laid out photos of different SUVs on the desk in front of Rita. “Do you recognize what kind of SUV it was?” She pointed to a large photo of a Tahoe. “Was it a big one like this or a smaller one like this?” Bev’s finger moved to a Kia Soul.
