Secrets, Lies & Alibis

by Patricia H. Rushford

  Kevin asked her to list the missing items for him, even though he already had a list. Cindy mentioned several of the items then added, “We didn’t have much. The necklace was the most expensive thing we had and that was only worth about a thousand dollars.”

  “Mac, do you have any questions?”

  Mac snapped his head up. He’d been so busy making notes and listening, he hadn’t had a chance to formulate any questions. “Just one. Did anyone else live here with you and Megan?”

  “No, it was just the two of us.”

  Mac shrugged. “That’s all I have.”

  “What now?” Cindy asked.

  Kevin folded his notepad and placed his pen back in his pocket. “Now comes the hard part. Because we don’t know who the killer is and have little to go on at this point, we’ll start the process of eliminating possible suspects. We do that, in part, by having anyone connected with the case submit to a polygraph.”

  “You mean a lie detector test?” She frowned. “Are you saying you want me to take one? You think I had something to do with Megan’s death?” Her voice rose as she spoke.

  “We have no reason to believe you meant your sister any harm, but we can’t take anything for granted. The polygraph is a great tool to help us eliminate people as possible suspects so we can narrow down the search and focus on the actual suspects.”

  “I don’t know. Shouldn’t I, like, have a lawyer or something for that?”

  “You are always welcome to have an attorney present. That would be up to you,” Kevin advised. “The polygraph is done by a qualified polygraph examiner from our Salem office. I’ll ask her to come up here sometime later next week after we’ve had a chance to talk to some of these people.”

  “How does it work?” Cindy asked.

  “I’ll let the expert explain it to you. Her name is Detective Melissa Thomas, the best we have in the business. She’ll explain everything to you before you make the final decision to take the examination.”

  “Well, I guess, but I had nothing to do with Megan’s death.” Cindy closed her eyes and turned toward the balcony again. She slammed her fist against the molding along the sliding glass door. “That’s not exactly true,” she sobbed. “In a way I did kill my sister.”

  Mac and Kevin exchanged glances while they waited for Cindy Tyson to continue.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Mac said.

  “I should have done something to stop her.” Cindy sobbed. “I should have made her stop drinking and going out with those losers. Oh, Megan, I am so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  She looked far too fragile to be carrying such a heavy burden. Mac fought back the urge to go to her and hold her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. He wouldn’t, of course. Mac didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. He didn’t want to get the wrong idea.

  Cindy took a deep, shuddering breath and turned around to face them. “I’m sorry. I know you guys are doing your job. It’s just so hard. Are we done?”

  “Can you think of anything else?” Kevin asked.

  “No, I think that’s it.” Cindy grabbed a fresh tissue and dabbed at her eyes.

  Mac looked around the room. “We would like permission to search the apartment for evidence relating to her death.”

  “Sure. I already told someone that was okay.”

  “It’s a visible search as well as a forensic one. A team of scientists from our crime lab will look over the apartment for microscopic clues.”

  “Whatever you have to do, just do it. You have my permission.”

  Mac pulled a white form from his binder. “Good. We’ll need to get your permission in writing. Before any search is made, we want to be sure you understand your rights.”

  Cindy nodded and Mac read the passages aloud.

  “You may refuse to consent to a search and may demand that a search warrant be obtained prior to any search of your residence. If you consent to a search, anything of value as evidence seized in the course of the search may be used in court against you.”

  Cindy winced at the comment but didn’t object.

  Mac went on. “I have been read this statement and understand my rights.” He set the form on the coffee table and offered her a pen. “Sign here if you agree with the statements I’ve read.”

  A smile cracked her somber face. “It all sounds so formal.”

  “We have to cover all the bases.”

  Cindy took Mac’s pen and signed the form.

  “There’s one more line I need to read to you.” Mac picked up the form again. “I hereby authorize the Oregon State Police to seize, open, examine, and analyze any article which they consider to be of value as evidence. This statement is signed of my own free will, without any threats or promises having been made to me.”

  Cindy signed the bottom of the form, dated it, and handed the pen back to Mac. “Is that it?”

  “That’s it,” Kevin told her. “We’ll have the forensics team come over right away if that’s okay with you.”

  “Fine with me. I’m going over to my new place anyway. I don’t want to stick around here today.” Cindy swung her purse over her shoulder.

  “Just out of curiosity,” Mac said. “You mentioned taking classes.”

  “Oh, right. I decided to go back to school and get a teaching degree.”

  He nodded. “Any particular area?”

  “Art.” Cindy smiled back at them as she headed toward the door. “I want to be an art teacher.”

  “Thanks for your cooperation, Cindy.” Kevin opened the door for her. “We’ll swing by and take you to the airport in the morning if that works for you.”

  “Sure, come by around nine. I’ll be at my new place. Tim will probably want to get dropped off at the Sheraton after you’ve talked with him. That’s where he usually stays.”

  Kevin handed Cindy his business card after writing down his cell phone and pager numbers on the back. “Call me if you think of anything important or if tomorrow doesn’t work for you on the polygraph.”

  “I will. Thanks. I really hope you catch whoever did this to Megan.”

  Mac started to say, We’ll try, but before he could respond, Kevin jumped in with, “You can count on it.”

  “For some reason I believe you, Detective.” She glanced at his business card. “Don’t forget to lock up.”

  Mac watched her climb into a blue convertible Mustang— Megan’s car. Cindy was sweet, cute, and seemed genuinely griefstricken over her sister’s death. But she had lied to them. Maybe she had only wanted to protect her sister’s reputation. Maybe she was protecting herself . . . or someone else. Mac closed off his errant thoughts.

  “Man, what a bunch of ugly leads,” Kevin muttered after he closed the door. “Is the bad guy the jealous fiancé, the construction guy, one of the teenagers who stole her purse, or maybe even the sister?”

  “Or none of the above.” Mac stared out the glass patio door and beyond to the park, where children played on the modern equipment and ran across the lush green lawn. Mothers watched and talked to other mothers. Latent grief pricked at his heart.

  Mac knew all too well what it was like growing up without a mother. His had died of pancreatic cancer two months after his eighth birthday. He also knew how easy it was to get on the wrong track in life—to make the wrong choices. Was that what Megan had done? Had someone killed her here in her own apartment— someone she knew? Or had she been the victim of a burglary gone bad? They’d find out soon enough. They had to.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hey, Mac.” Kevin drew Mac away from his thoughts.

  “Yeah?”

  “Got your cell phone? Eric paged me during the interview and I left mine in the car.”

  “Sure.” He fumbled through his briefcase for the phone and handed it to Kevin.

  “Eric. Yeah, it’s me.” Kevin frowned as he listened to what Eric had to say. “Okay, we’re on our way. Also, while I’ve got you on the line, I need a cri
me lab team at the victim’s residence right away. We have a consent to search so I want to get right on it.” Kevin hesitated again. “That’s good. Thanks.”

  Handing the cell phone back, Kevin looked pleased. “The tip line is already paying off. Some teenage girl said she has information on the victim, said she saw her with some guy out on Oxbow Mountain, up in the hills near Corbett. Hopefully she was with the kids who stole the purse. Eric’s sending a uniform over here right away to stand by for the forensic scientists’ arrival.”

  “Where does the girl live?” Mac couldn’t believe how quickly things were moving.

  “Springdale—east of Troutdale. That new housing development on the hill. The girl won’t be home till after five, so we should get there right on time.”

  Moments later, a trooper pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex. Kevin and Mac were just coming down the stairs. “Look who’s here!” Mac smiled and waved as the trooper exited the car. Up until yesterday, he hadn’t seen Dana in two, maybe three years; now all of a sudden she was showing up everywhere. “Hi again, guys.” Dana grinned and walked toward them. “My sergeant said you guys needed some help.”

  Kevin reached out a hand. “Right, thanks. Dana Bennett, isn’t it?”

  “It is. I can’t believe you remembered.”

  “Hard to forget.”

  Mac would have added someone as attractive as you. He frowned at his lack of professionalism. It’s a good thing he’d kept his mouth shut. He doubted Kevin would have appreciated a remark like that. Dana probably wouldn’t have either. He wasn’t even sure where it had come from. After all, he was supposed to be engaged. He and Linda hadn’t made an official announcement yet, and after his blunder today, maybe they wouldn’t. While Mac took in Dana’s blonde hair and aquamarine eyes, he managed to sound businesslike. “We’d like you to stand by until our crime lab arrives to process the victim’s residence for trace evidence.”

  Dana nodded. “Is this regarding the body we found yesterday?”

  “Yeah.” Mac set his briefcase on the hood of her patrol car, rummaged through it for the right form, then handed her the blank crime scene log. “Make sure everyone who enters the residence signs the log. We’ll be back later to pick it up.”

  “You got it.” She seemed almost excited to be assisting. “I saw on the news that you’ve already identified the body. Fast work. I’m impressed.”

  “Don’t thank us.” Kevin added, “That’s the M.E.’s department. We’re heading to Springdale, Dana.” He walked past the trooper. “Be back in about an hour.”

  Even though he’d had little to do with the efficient team that made the ID, Mac felt proud to be part of the process—pleased at Dana’s compliment. He wondered if Linda would even notice what he’d been working on. He thought seriously about asking Dana out, but he knew he couldn’t.

  Despite the rabbit trails his brain kept taking, he cared about Linda. Still, maybe he and Dana could meet for coffee. He wanted to know what she’d been doing since they’d stopped going out. They’d parted on good terms, and seeing her brought back happy memories of dates consisting of hikes, studying, coffee shops, battling it out at the shooting range, and talking shop.

  Less than fifteen minutes later, Kevin and Mac were driving along Bell Road in Springdale, looking for an address.

  “It’s an even number, Mac, so it should be on your side of the street.” Kevin pointed to a large brick house that hugged the hillside and undoubtedly offered its occupants a beautiful view of the Columbia River gorge. “There it is, 928 Bell Road. Over by the white mailbox.”

  Mac eased his car over to the curb.

  “I’ll do the report on the interview with Cindy,” Kevin said.

  “You can run the interview on this one and do the paperwork. By alternating, neither of us will get too bogged down with reports. We need to stay on top of them with a case like this or they’ll snowball on us.”

  Mac’s heart hammered a little harder than he thought it should. Kevin was giving him a long leash and that was good. Very good. His mouth went dry. “Sure.” Mac nodded. “Anything in particular I should ask?”

  “With any interview you want to let the other person do most of the talking. Try not to finish thoughts for her, and never, never give her information we have—especially the cause of death or evidence we may have gathered. You know the drill.”

  “What was her name again?”

  “Rachel Winslow. Eric said she was sixteen.”

  Mac concentrated on breathing slow and steady as they approached the new two-story home. He rang the doorbell. Moments later, a tall slender woman in a lavender pantsuit opened the door. “Can I help you?”

  Mac double-checked the address then introduced himself and Kevin, showing her his badge. “We’re here to talk to Rachel Winslow. She called our office saying she might have some information relating to a case we’re working on.”

  “Oh, right. Rachel told me. I’m her mother, Sherry Winslow. I’d like to sit in while you talk to her. She’s underage and—well, she hasn’t done anything wrong, unless you count lying and going out behind our backs with a boy we don’t approve of as wrong.” She frowned. “It’s wrong, of course, but not in a legal sense.”

  “We’ll see how the interview goes,” Kevin said. “If she feels she needs to speak with us in private, we may ask you to leave the room.”

  “Sounds fair.” She opened the door and stepped back, ushering them inside.

  As Mac suspected, the house was fantastic. Windows and sliding glass doors made up most of the back part of the house. The foyer had marble floors that extended into a great room. He suspected that no matter where you were in the house, you had a view. It was a house to dream about, though he doubted his salary would ever allow anything like this.

  “Rachel,” she called toward the balcony on the second floor. “The police officers are here.”

  Within seconds, Rachel came down the wide carpeted stairs. “Hi.” She grinned, revealing a full set of braces. “I saw on television what happened to that lady.” She grimaced and rolled her eyes. “I totally flipped out when I saw her picture and found out who she was. I told my mom about seeing her, and she and Dad said I should tell you just in case. I got the number off the screen.”

  “It’s good that you called,” Mac said. “We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure.”

  “Rachel, take them into the family room.” Turning to Mac and Kevin, she asked, “Can I get you something? I just made some iced tea.”

  “That sounds great.” Mac’s mouth felt bone dry.

  “Make yourselves comfortable.” Sherry Winslow moved into the kitchen area and picked up the tall pastel glasses already waiting, then filled them with ice chips from the refrigerator door and poured in the tea. She carried four of them in on a matching tray with sugar and long-handled spoons for stirring.

  Mac drank nearly half of his tea, then set his glass down. It had a slightly fruity taste. “Good tea. Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “First, Rachel, we’d like you to tell us about yourself— name, age, that sort of thing. I’d like to see some ID, too, if you have it.”

  Rachel provided her full name and date of birth and handed him her high school student identification card. “This is all I have for ID.

  I haven’t gotten my license yet.”

  “This will be fine.” Mac cleared his throat. “Now tell me exactly why you called us.”

  “Well, like I said before, I was watching television when this news thingy came on. They showed a picture of Megan Tyson and said she was dead—that somebody had killed her. I freaked. I thought, No way. I saw her up on Oxbow Mountain a couple of weeks ago. She was with this creepy guy. I remembered thinking she was really pretty and wondered why she was hanging out with a guy like that. Man, I can’t believe she’s really dead.” Rachel ran a hand through her fine straight hair, pushing it out of her face. As soon as her hand dropped to her lap, her light
brown hair cascaded forward again.

  “Let’s take this from the beginning, Rachel.” Mac said. “Tell us about what led up to your seeing her. Where were you and who were you with?”

  She licked her lips and glanced at her mother.

  “I, like, got into a lot of trouble for being there.” She glanced over at her mother again and her shoulders rose and fell in an exaggerated sigh.

  “I’m sure this is difficult for you, Rachel,” Kevin said. “Especially since you got into trouble, but we are looking into a murder, not a curfew violation or possession of alcohol. Besides, it looks like your parents are already dealing with whatever you did wrong.”

  “Go ahead, Rachel,” her mother urged.

  “Okay. I was supposed to be staying with Becky. She’s my best friend.”

  “Can you give me an exact date?”

  “Thursday, August the eighth.” Her mother supplied the information. “Right, the eighth. Anyway, my mom dropped me over at Becky’s around six. We ate dinner and watched television. I left around ten.” Rachel ran her hands over her denim-clad legs. “My boyfriend picked me up in his truck and we went dancing.”

  “What’s your boyfriend’s name?”

  “Jay Nichols. Becky wanted to come, but she chickened out.”

  “She was smart,” Mrs. Winslow interjected.

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “I know, Mom. Anyway, we went downtown, to the Dakota Dance Club. We partied until around one. Jay and I were leaving when he saw one of his buds in the parking lot. I guess you want his name too.”

  Mac nodded.

  “It’s Brandon King. They both go to Troutdale High, him and Jay.

  “Jay said Brandon and some other kids were going up to the lookout on Oxbow Mountain. I was getting tired, so I didn’t want to go. Jay broke me down, promised we wouldn’t be out there very long.” She sneered. “He, like, totally lied to me. I broke up with him after that night. I still kind of like him, but my parents don’t want me to see him anymore.”