by Jan Burke
“Sure, Mark,” I said. “Let’s go.”
Three minutes later, we were on our way to the Sheffield Estate.
CHAPTER 14
Monday, April 24
6:05 P.M.
THE SHEFFIELD ESTATE
THE gate was open this time, and no police officer was stationed at the top of the road. When we reached the parking lot at the construction site, a familiar Chevy Suburban was already parked near the area where the remains had been found earlier in the day. The big SUV belonged to Anna Stover, a professional dog trainer — and Ben’s ex-girlfriend. Sheila Dolson was standing outside the vehicle, smoking. In the back, one of Anna’s Labradors was in his crate. Altair was in the crate next to his. The back windows were down.
The crime-scene tape that had been tied around the area earlier in the day was nowhere to be seen. I wondered if it had been removed by the police or by Anna and Sheila. I couldn’t believe Anna would dare it.
Anna stepped out of the Suburban. Sheila was a little younger than Anna, and there was that tiger hair of hers, but they were both slender and athletic. Sheila’s smoking had yet to take a real toll on her.
One other major difference was immediately apparent: Sheila looked extremely confident, in fact, smug. Anna, who usually exuded an air of self-confidence that was not so much smug as based on real competence, looked decidedly uneasy.
I greeted them and started introductions, but got no further before the flashing lights of a patrol car caught our attention. Right behind the patrol car were two vehicles: an unmarked Crown Victoria and Ben’s pickup truck.
It was getting crowded in the parking area by then. I heard Anna say, “Oh Jesus, Sheila. Tell me you didn’t call Ben.”
“I called the coroner’s office,” she said. “They must have called him.”
“Of course they did,” I said. “It’s his case. But Sheila, you knew that.”
Anna looked back and forth between us, frowning. Sheila shrugged and ground her cigarette out beneath the heel of a muddy boot.
A stiff wind came up, and we all hunched our shoulders in defense against it. It scattered leaves below and clouds above. Only a little more than an hour was left before sunset, but the sun declared its presence rather spectacularly, breaking through the clouds to make one of those inspirational skies.
Nothing could have been in greater contrast to the mood of the people quickly gathering below.
Ben got out of his truck, Caleb following. I noticed they had changed clothes.
Vince Adams and his partner, Reed Collins — the two detectives who had worked the scene earlier in the day — emerged from the Crown Vic. The two of them seem like opposites in many ways — Vince looks as if he took up police work after a career in the boxing ring, while Reed looks as if he could leave police work for a film career at any time. More than one criminal has made the mistake of thinking Vince lacks sophistication or that Reed is too genteel to get his hands dirty. They’re both streetwise and smart as hell, and have the kind of dogged persistence that solves cases. At the moment, they both looked extremely unhappy. So did Ben and Caleb. The woman patrol officer getting out of the black-and-white added her scowl to theirs.
“Lady,” Vince said to Sheila, “I don’t know what your game is, but I have a good mind to arrest you right here and now and let you do your explaining in custody.”
“Arrest me?” Sheila’s smugness dimmed a bit.
“Let’s start with trespassing—”
“The gate was open!”
Vince looked to Anna.
“That’s true,” she said.
“You changing the way your SAR group operates, Anna?” he asked.
Her cheeks reddened slightly. “No, but—”
“So you think it’s okay to search a crime scene in LPPD jurisdiction without mentioning it to us?”
“What’s more important,” Sheila interrupted, “helping a family find the remains of a missing person, or bolstering Ben Sheridan’s fragile male ego?”
There were outbursts from several quarters at that. If I hadn’t been there on the job, I would have objected, too, but under the circumstances, I had to keep quiet. Ben didn’t speak up in his own defense, but Anna didn’t speak up, either. I felt my temper rising.
“All right, all right,” Vince was saying, taking control of the conversation again. “Exactly what happened during your unauthorized search within a fenced-in area surrounded by signs that say Keep Out, No Public Access, and Authorized Personnel Only?”
“I asked Anna to accompany me. I wanted someone who has credibility with the local group — with Las Piernas SAR Dogs — and with your department to witness the search and confirm any find. Anna is the president of that organization, and she graciously agreed to drive over here with us and to bring one of her own dogs.” She nodded toward the dogs in the Suburban.
“Anna watched as Altair and I went to work,” Sheila went on. “We weren’t searching for very long before Altair alerted. I’ve placed a marker where Altair found these.”
She handed a small plastic bag to the detective.
Caleb groaned. “You removed possible evidence! Didn’t any of your other cadaver dog groups teach you not to do that?”
She glowered at him but turned when Mark asked, “What is it you found?”
“Teeth,” she said solemnly. “I bagged them because I didn’t want to lose them,” she added with a significant look at Caleb. “There are bound to be more remains! All I’m asking is that you allow us to search again tomorrow. Anna has asked me to be part of the Las Piernas SAR team.” This time, her look was one of pure triumph and was aimed toward Ben. It missed its mark — he was looking down at his feet.
For a moment there was silence.
“Lady,” Vince said, “I don’t care if you found the pope’s kneecaps out here and he agreed to make you a saint out of gratitude. I’m still considering taking you in.” He turned to Ben. “Ben, can you bring Bingle and some of the other dogs and people on the local team out here tomorrow?”
Sheila started to squeal a protest, but Vince held up a hand. He turned to the patrol officer. “Officer, if she interrupts me one more time, place her under arrest.”
He turned back to Ben.
Ben said, “Sure, I’ll search with Bingle, but I’m not going to bring anyone from the local team.” He looked up at Anna. “As of now, I’m no longer with Las Piernas SAR Dogs.”
“Ben, no!” Anna protested. “Ben, let’s talk this over.”
He shook his head.
Reed, always the quieter of the two detectives, spoke up. “Anna, did things happen here the way Ms. Dolson said they did?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t call you first. I should have. But — but isn’t the most important thing that we found evidence?”
“I don’t know that you did,” Reed said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, Ms. Dolson here is not a forensic odontologist, forensic anthropologist, forensic pathologist, or a dentist, is she?”
“No, but—”
“And while maybe some guy on TV can get DNA out of anything and get results in twenty minutes, that TV show probably gets more funding for an episode than our lab gets for an annual budget for DNA.”
“But if DNA can be extracted from the teeth, and it does match a missing person’s DNA—”
“Then I’m not sure the district attorney is going to like how it came into our possession. When Ben and Caleb were doing their work here today, it was in a completely controlled and documented manner, by people with credentials and expertise. You and Ben are obviously having some kind of trouble, and I’m sorry for that, but it doesn’t have anything to with what I’m saying to you right now.”
Although she blushed again, after a moment she lifted her chin and said, “I know Ben is good at what he does. He just doesn’t always acknowledge that some other people are good at what they do. He has a blind spot where Sheila’s concerned.”
“Ms. Dolson
is new to the area,” Reed said. “Didn’t you add her to your search team a little quickly?”
“Not at all,” Anna said. “She has established credentials in this work. And I’ve never seen a better search dog than Altair. They could do so much—”
“Yeah, well, they’ve done more than enough, as far as I’m concerned,” Vince said. “And if you ask me, the problems we have with you folks always seems to come from the two-legged animals, however talented the four-legged ones might be. Sounds as if your group might need a refresher on protocols. I’ll let you go tonight, but I’m going to have to let my department know what happened here. In the future, I hope you’ll give us a call before you even think about going near a crime scene. I suggest you seriously think about calling us before you call the newspaper. That looks bad, Anna.”
“Anna has an excellent record of helping your department,” Ben said quietly.
She still looked upset — maybe even more upset that he had defended her.
“Anna,” I asked, “did Rascal do any searching here?”
“No,” she said, “no, he didn’t.” Her voice was unsteady, but then she took a deep breath and went on, holding her head up, looking me in the eye for a change. “I had him on a lead, and we stayed here and observed. I walked him around a little, but not up on the slope. It’s one hundred percent Altair’s find. I’ll just keep hoping that people will look past one error in judgment and think about what this might mean to a family somewhere. Let’s go, Sheila.”
When they reached the Suburban, Sheila Dolson yelled, “Mr. Baker! Please call me!” before slamming the passenger door shut. Vince told the patrol officer to make sure they left the grounds and stayed out. “And while you’re at it, find out what the hell happened to the lock on the gate.”
He walked over to the Crown Vic and turned on a spotlight, aiming it toward the slope. The sun hadn’t set yet, but the clouds were gradually starting to move in again. Without saying a word to each other, Vince and Reed grabbed a couple of flashlights and walked up to where the marker was placed. The detectives conferred briefly, then pulled Mark into the discussion, asking him about when we were notified by Sheila and so on. I was left standing next to Ben and Caleb.
“Are you okay?” I asked Ben. “Being around Anna can’t be easy.”
He shook his head but said, “I’ll get there. I’m not used to the idea yet, although I can’t say I didn’t see it coming,”
“Leaving you a note — that was just chickenshit,” Caleb said.
“She broke up with you with a note? Jesus, Ben…”
He shrugged. “Maybe it was the only way she could tell me. I don’t know.”
“She’s moved out?”
“Yes, today. I had to leave to come out here this morning while she was packing up the last of her things.” He paused. “What time for dinner tomorrow?” he asked, obviously wanting to change the subject.
“Let’s make it around seven. Caleb, are you allergic to anything, on a special diet, or do you just plain hate any foods?”
“No, Ms. Kelly.”
“Break yourself of that ‘Ms. Kelly’ habit by tomorrow night — I’m Irene.”
“Caleb,” Ben said, “do me a favor and see if Vince and Reed will let us have a look at Sheila’s evidence.”
As soon as Caleb was out of earshot, he said, “I’m not sure I’d make such a great dinner guest — lately, I’m never sure what kind of shape I’ll be in.”
“That’s why you should spend the time among friends. We will take you in any shape. No game face necessary. Which I expect you already know to be true.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it.”
That merited a quick smile. “I know.”
I looked toward the slope. “It seems pretty amazing to me — almost unbelievable, I’d say — that she found teeth out there.”
“Supposedly the dog found them,” he said.
“You’re as suspicious as I am.”
He glanced toward the other group and said, “I’m sure everyone here is as skeptical as you are, if not more so. This is not for publication, but the remains we found today? We recovered all the teeth. That’s why we were so confident about the dental records match to Serre.”
“Then tell Anna that her new star team member planted evidence!”
“It wouldn’t do any good, Irene. First, she would say that it was an unfounded accusation. At this point, she’d be right. She can always claim that the teeth belonged to a second victim, one we’ve simply failed to find. Or a living victim taken by the killer, who knocked his or her teeth out.” He frowned over that for a moment.
I’m sure we were both thinking of Luke Serre, Gerald Serre’s missing son.
“As it happens,” Ben said, “the one person who could have caught Sheila planting evidence is Anna. Unfortunately, Anna probably saw what she wanted to see, and nothing more.”
“Why do you say that?”
He shook his head. “Over the past three months, Sheila has been doing everything she can to make Anna into a true believer.”
“True believer? Anna has that much faith in her?”
“It seems so to me. Sheila has worked skillfully and patiently to get a set of followers in our SAR group.”
“But something about her obviously bothers you.”
“I smell a phony, that’s all. All her initial approaches were to praise the other handlers effusively.”
“‘Good dog’ works on you guys, too?”
“Something like that. Not on all of us.”
“No, not on you, certainly.” Accepting praise was not his forte.
He shrugged. “That wasn’t the only weapon in her arsenal. She has numerous sad stories to tell about herself. Maybe they’re true. Maybe she really is a cancer survivor whose only child died when she got lost in the woods, and that loss really is what inspired her to be a searcher. Maybe it’s true that her abusive ex stalks her and tried to kill her by burning down her house around her, and the reason she moves so often is to avoid him.”
“Wow. Quite a history, but all of that could be checked out, you know.”
“Hell if I’m going to be the one to do it. Everyone else in the group feels sorry for her. Anna found someone who rented her a small house for less than half the going rate, and someone else who got her a part-time job. So maybe I’m the only cynic left in Las Piernas.”
“Maybe your group is especially vulnerable for some reason, or needs to look at how it screens handlers.”
“Maybe. I just keep thinking, who could be easier prey for someone who pretends to need help than a group of volunteer rescuers?”
“Hmm. I begin to see the picture.”
“And then there is Altair. I’ll admit he’s good. I’ve seen him at work on training exercises that Sheila couldn’t control.”
“Ones you devised?”
Another quick smile. “Yes. So the talent in the dog is there, and he is well trained. She’s not a bad handler, although she uses a lot of body language — I think sometimes she cues the dog in training exercises.”
“So?”
“She doesn’t seem to be as experienced as she should be, given the amount of time she’s been at this. And Altair’s too perfect. No team I know of makes as many finds as Sheila and Altair.”
“I take it you’ve pointed this out to other people in the SAR group?”
“Yes. Supposedly I’m jealous.” He sighed. “Remember that I said she’s been patient and skillful? I, on the other hand, have been impatient and clumsy at trying to discredit her.”
He might have said more, but the others were walking toward us then. Caleb was smiling. I wondered what had changed his mood. Reed held out the small bag with the teeth in it. “Caleb says you’re going back to the coroner’s office tonight. You want to include these with what you’re testing? Or should I have Vince leave them under his pillow and see if the tooth fairy leaves him a buck apiece?”
“A buck?” Vince said. “Jeez,
I only got a quarter a tooth when I was a kid.”
“I think it’s higher in some households now,” I said as Ben took the bag and studied its contents for a moment. A look passed between him and Caleb, but I couldn’t read it.
“Are they children’s teeth?” I asked anxiously.
“At first glance,” Ben said, “it looks as if they are. But that’s preliminary.”
“You know more than you’re saying.”
“Just the opposite. I’m not saying more than I know. Certainly not guessing aloud so that you can fill a page of newsprint with speculation.”
I knew this mood, and so did Mark. We headed back to the paper.
AS we drove, Mark asked me about Sheila Dolson.
“She’s strange. Something’s not quite right about her. Ben suspects she’s a phony, at least to some degree. I have to say I agree with him, but I also think she’s…”
“What?”
“I was going to say calculating, but she’s not just calculating, she’s cold. That SAR group may have seen her charming side, but my own impression is that there’s a real mean streak in her. And I’m not just saying that because she almost ran me off the road today.”
“This whole deal is strange,” he said. “You think she planted those teeth there?”
“If she did plant them, it’s either a hell of a lucky guess or a real problem, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Next-of-kin notification just took place. Your story will hit tomorrow’s morning paper. The most anyone has heard from the media is that the remains of an unidentified man have been found on the Sheffield Estate. Come to think of it…”
“What?”
“How did she learn about the search there in the first place?”
“A scanner?”
I shook my head. “No. I was the only reporter there. John said we learned of it from a tip. Every other reporter in town was covering the story you were on — the boys in the river.”
