by Dani Pettrey
Please, Father, I want to do this right.
44
Landon’s heart dropped when he got the news over the phone the next morning. “And you’re certain?”
“Positive,” Detective Robertson said, confirming his worst suspicions. “I wish I had different news for you.”
“Thanks, Detective.”
“I hate to see that sweet gal’s face when you break the news.”
It would break her heart.
“Well?” Piper said, anxiously beside him.
Landon set his cell aside and looked into his family’s faces with trepidation. “I’m sorry.”
“Their alibi checked out?” Jake said.
“I’m afraid so. Everyone in question spent the night of Karli’s murder in lockup. There is no way any of them could have killed her.”
Piper deflated before him.
Cole wrapped his arms around her before Landon could. “I’m so sorry, kid.”
Shell-shocked, Landon watched as one by one they all faced the inevitable.
“I’ll call Kayden,” Bailey said. “She’ll want to know.”
“Should I contact the airline?” Gage asked. “Secure our flight home?”
“No,” Piper said, pulling back. “We aren’t done.”
“Piper, they didn’t do it. The Mongols aren’t responsible for Karli’s death,” Gage said.
“There’s nothing more we can do here,” Cole said softly.
“Maybe not here, but . . . somewhere.”
“Where, Piper?” Cole asked. “We have nothing else to go on.”
Landon prayed for guidance, for wisdom. How could he help Piper face reality—they were at a dead end—without crushing her?
“There’s got to be something else. Somebody we are overlooking.” Piper pulled out their copy of the case file.
“We looked at every logical Mongol connection,” Darcy said.
“Then we look at someone outside the Mongols.” Piper spread the photos out before her.
Landon sat down beside her. “What are you thinking? Someone else from Karli’s past?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“We ran through all the ties to Karli’s past,” Darcy said, kindly but matter-of-factly.
“Not all of them.” Piper held up the photo of Karli and Erik Johnson.
“The boyfriend?”
“He’s the only person from her past who Karli kept in touch with.”
“You think he killed her?” Jake asked.
“Not necessarily. Karli clearly trusted him, allowed herself to be vulnerable by continuing her relationship with him. So maybe he was the one person she was willing to confide in.”
“You think she told him why she was scared? Who she thought was after her?” Darcy asked.
“I pray so.”
Darcy grabbed her laptop. “I’ll track him down.”
“I’ll help,” Jake offered.
Two hours later, Jake entered the room, nearly out of breath. “We found him.”
Landon watched as hope welled inside Piper.
“Erik Johnson works as a computer engineer at BioTech Pharmaceuticals in Portland, Oregon.”
Landon squeezed her shoulder. “Looks like we’re headed for Portland.”
Cole stood. “Do you need our help? Should we come with you?”
Landon looked at Piper. “I think we’ve got this.”
She nodded.
Portland was a mixture of rain and mist. The drive from the airport to BioTech Pharmaceuticals took them along the expressway and around the edges of the city.
“How you holding up?” Landon asked.
“I’ll let you know after we talk with Erik.”
He prayed Erik would be helpful, that if nothing else, he’d point them in a new direction.
BioTech loomed on the horizon—a gray glass building, against the drab winter sky.
They entered through the front doors only to face a nearly immediate halt at a security station eerily similar to the airport security they’d faced only hours ago on their departure from California. Three rows of conveyor belts leading into a metal detector lined the pathway to the interior of the building.
“Do you have an appointment?” the armed security officer asked Landon.
“No.” Landon pulled out his badge. “But we need to speak with Erik Johnson.”
“May I?” The security officer extended his hand for Landon’s badge.
“Sure.” Landon handed it over.
“Wait here.”
As if they had any option.
“Get a load of this place,” he whispered to Piper.
“I know. What did you say they do here again?”
“Darcy said something about pharmaceuticals and biomedical advancements.”
“Must be pretty important.”
“Or highly valuable.”
A few minutes later, the guard returned. “Come with me.”
He led them through security and had their belongings scanned before allowing them to proceed. “You’ll need to leave your weapon with us,” the guard said.
Landon’s hand closed over the handle. “I don’t release my weapon.”
“Then you won’t be coming in.”
Piper looked up at him. She needed this, needed to follow the last lead before them, no matter how thin.
He exhaled. “All right.” He handed his gun over, and they proceeded.
The guard swiped his security card at each door they encountered. A series of offices lined the sterile halls, and the final door led them into a gigantic workspace—easily four times the size of the McKennas’ garage at their shop back home. White-fogged plastic covered the metal walls and divided the various cubicles within the large space. Each employee wore a white lab coat, their attention completely immersed in their work. Not a single person glanced up at them as they passed.
The guard stopped at the third cubicle on the left. “This was Mr. Johnson’s work station. Mr. Thompson will be with you shortly.”
“Was his work station?” Piper asked, but the guard was already halfway back to the door. She looked at Landon. “This place gives me the creeps.”
“Yeah,” he said, looking around. “It’s definitely strange.”
After a several-minute wait, a man in his late forties strode into the cubicle and returned Landon’s badge. “Deputy Grainger, is it?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Ed Thompson, president of operations here at BioTech.”
“Quite the operation you’ve got here.”
“We are the leading supplier of insulin in the world. Ten thousand vials a day.”
“So all the security is to protect the insulin?” Landon asked, skeptical.
“No. It’s to protect our innovations.”
“Innovations?” Piper asked.
“Here at BioTech, pharmaceuticals constitute only a fraction of our work. Our main focus is on biotechnology, as the name implies.”
“What type of biotechnology?”
“It’s complicated, but we develop solutions to revolutionize the pharmaceutical industry. For example, Mr. Johnson worked in our package development.”
“Worked?” Piper asked. “You’re the second person to refer to Erik in the past tense. Does he no longer work here?”
“I’m afraid Erik Johnson was killed in a car accident a few weeks ago.”
Landon steadied Piper as she digested the news.
“He’s dead?” she said, her voice cracking.
“I’m afraid so. Were you friends of his?”
“No.” Landon shook his head. “We are investigating the death of a friend of Erik’s. We were hoping Erik might be of some help in tracking her killer.”
“Oh, that’s terrible.”
“Yes, it is.” Landon looked around at the workers still studiously keeping their attention on their work. “Would it be possible to speak with some of Erik’s colleagues?”
“What for?”
“Perhaps t
hey can help answer some questions.”
“I highly doubt it. Erik was only with us a short time and we discourage interoffice friendships.”
“Why is that?” Piper asked.
“We find they distract the focus from the work.”
“I see,” Landon said. “So that’s a no?”
“I’m afraid so.” He waved two fingers, and the security guard stepped into the cubicle. “Mr. Nelson will escort you back out. Sorry you had to travel all this way for bad news.”
“Not as sorry as we are,” Piper said.
As they followed the guard out, Landon whispered, “Do you get the feeling he can’t wait to get us out of here?”
“Yeah, I wonder why that is?”
They exited the first set of double doors and began the long trek down the windowless hallway.
“Not the cheeriest place to work,” she commented.
The guard just kept walking, not bothering to respond.
Another hallway and another set of doors found them back at Security. Landon’s gun was returned and they were outside within twenty minutes of entering.
“That was bizarre,” Piper said.
“The timing of Erik’s and Karli’s deaths so close to each other is also bizarre.”
“You think there was foul play involved?”
“I don’t know, but I think we should see if we can get a look at Erik’s accident report.”
A woman crossing the parking lot cleared her throat, drawing Landon’s attention.
She was headed in their direction with her gaze fastened on them. She dropped her purse and the contents spilled out across the asphalt.
Landon stepped to help her, bending to lend a hand.
Instead of thanking him, she slid him a folded piece of paper. “Don’t look at it now.”
“Who are you?”
“A friend of Erik’s.”
“You work at BioTech?”
“No time for questions. They’re watching.”
Landon wasn’t surprised; he’d already spotted the cameras attached to a number of light poles in the parking lot.
“It’s Erik’s parents’ address. You need to pay them a visit,” she said hurriedly as she shoved her things back in her bag and stood.
“Wait . . .”
“I’ll meet you there later.” She rushed past him and Piper, and headed for a car.
“What was all that about?” Piper asked.
“We have a new lead.” He smiled.
Now they’d gone too far, hit too close. His ear still rang from the boss’s rant. It was time to take action. He pulled out of BioTech’s lot, knowing exactly where they were headed, and it played perfectly into his hands. Perfectly into the trap he’d set for them.
45
The small ski village of Government Camp sat nestled at the southern end of Mt. Hood Village, about an hour’s drive southeast of Portland. With a population of fewer than three hundred, it was no wonder Erik and Karli had bonded. Two teenagers in a town with nothing to do but ski or board must have had a lot of time to get acquainted.
“Make a right on Winters Crest,” Piper said.
Landon did as instructed.
“Twelve hundred Winters Crest,” Piper said, pointing at the brick rancher with red shutters. “This must be the place.”
“What are we going to say to them?” Piper asked as Landon opened her car door.
“You, without words?” He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “That’s a first.”
“Very funny. Seriously, what are we going to say? Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. We think your son’s accident maybe wasn’t an accident.”
“The woman in the parking lot said she’d meet us here at some point. We’ll just wing it until she gets here.”
“You wing something?” Piper smiled. “That’s a first.”
“I’ve been winging quite a few things these days.” He winked, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms.
The front door opened, and a man stepped onto the porch. “Can I help you folks?” He was in his early sixties and looked to have stepped straight out of an L.L.Bean catalog. Plaid flannel top, tan Dockers-style pants, and leather loafers.
Piper smiled. “I sure hope so.”
The man’s countenance brightened as she approached.
“I’m Piper McKenna, and this is Deputy Landon Grainger.”
The man’s brow pinched. “Deputy?”
Landon picked up the conversation. “Yes, sir, we’re down here from Alaska, investigating a woman’s murder.”
“Oh?”
“We believe she knew your son, Erik. We heard about his accident. Please accept our condolences.”
The man nodded, his eyes downcast. “Thank you.”
Landon cleared his throat and continued. “We were hoping we could chat with you.”
“Don’t see why not. You two might as well come in out of the cold. The wife’s just put on a pot of hot cider. I’ll tell her to grab two more mugs.”
“That’s very kind. Thank you,” Piper said, following the man inside.
“I’m Stanley Johnson, by the way.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Johnson.”
He led them into the front room. A shiny black baby grand piano, with a series of photographs in gold frames arranged on top, sat in front of the large bay window. Pictures of Erik—as a child, in his early teens, and in his graduation cap and gown. His parents looked old enough to be his grandparents, though.
Piper examined each. “Your son was very handsome.”
“Bright too. Graduated top of his class at the University of Oregon. Not too bad for a ski-village kid.”
“Was he your only child?” she asked, praying her question wasn’t too forward.
Stanley nodded. “Gladys and I weren’t able to have kids. We tried for years but finally settled on adoption. Erik was the pride and joy of our lives.”
“I thought I heard voices.” A woman entered the room. Her gray hair was swept up in a bun. She wore a soft pink blouse, tan corduroy skirt, and flowered apron. “Who do we have here?”
“This is Piper McKenna and Deputy . . . ?”
“Grainger,” Landon supplied.
“Deputy?” the woman said.
“They are down from Alaska, investigating some poor woman’s murder.”
“How unfortunate. Is it someone we knew?”
“I’m not sure, but she knew your son.”
“Erik?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Landon said. “She lived in Government Camp a short time, many years ago. Karli Davis.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know a Karli Davis.”
Right. What name had Karli gone by then? “My apologies. I believe she went by Suzanne Wilson while she lived here.”
“That one.” Mrs. Johnson waggled her finger.
“You remember her?”
“How could I not? First woman to break my Erik’s heart.”
“Do you mind if we ask you a few questions about their relationship?”
“You can ask, but it wasn’t much of a relationship.” She stepped to the piano, clasping one of Erik’s pictures in her hand.
“Do you remember when Erik and Karli—I’m sorry, I mean Suzanne—met?”
The woman nodded. “On the bus to Sandy.”
“Sandy?” Landon asked.
“If you live on the mountain, you go to high school in Sandy, Oregon. Erik and Suzanne became friends on the bus. It’s an hour ride each way with stops, which leaves a lot of time to get to know someone. If you’re willing to let someone know you, that is.”
“Gladys,” Stanley said, moving to stand by his wife’s side.
“You’re talking about Suzanne?” Landon asked, finding it difficult to not call her Karli. He’d never met her while she lived, and yet she would always be Karli Davis in his mind.
“That girl, I felt sorry for her. Seemed pretty unhappy.”
“Did you know she was in Witness Protection?”
“
Not until her mother’s death.” Gladys’s hands twisted in her apron. “I’ll never forget that night. The explosion rocked the mountain.”
“It’s a wonder we didn’t have an avalanche,” Stanley said.
“Is that when Erik found out who Suzanne really was?”
“A few days after,” Gladys said. “There was an article in the paper about her mother, about the whole story. Erik was stunned in a way, but he said things suddenly made sense.”
“About Suzanne?”
Gladys nodded.
“We know that your son and she remained in contact.” Piper handed Gladys the picture of Karli and Erik at Glacier Peak. “She’d been going by Karli Davis since she left Government Camp.”
Gladys clasped the picture and sat down on the sofa. “This must have been taken the last time he saw her.”
“Do you remember when that was?”
“Right before his accident. Erik went to see her. I don’t know why.” Gladys looked down, knotting the handkerchief in her hand. “I thought Erik was finally moving on. Dating a nice woman from work.”
“We were told interoffice relationships were frowned upon at BioTech,” Landon said.
“That sounds like something one of them would say.”
“One of whom?”
“Those dictators at BioTech. I don’t know why Erik stayed. They were control freaks. He and Elaine started dating and were told to break it off or look for new jobs.”
“Did they break it off?” Piper asked.
“No. They just kept quiet about it at the office. They both had too much invested in their research to just walk away from BioTech. They planned to finish the projects they were working on and then look for other employment.”
“Do you know what Erik was working on?” Landon asked.
Gladys shook her head. “I never understood Erik’s projects.”
“Why don’t you come with me,” Stanley said. They followed him through the house and out back to a work shed. Looking around to make sure they were alone, Stanley unlocked the door and instructed them to step inside.
“Ham radio?” Landon asked, taking in the equipment.
“It’s how Erik got started.”
Piper frowned. “I don’t understand. I thought Erik worked in the pharmaceutical industry.”
