by C. M. Sutter
Jack whistled. “Wow, you almost said that verbatim, but yeah, that’s what she said. Why?”
Billy was clearly impressed with his memory skills. “Well, after digging through a few layers and locating the erased and washed history file, we found a hookup site David logged onto quite often. Apparently, he regularly Googled a company called Unhappilyhitched Inc., which has their own discreet dating service for married people. Let’s just say Mr. Smith was a frequent flyer.”
“No kidding?” Jack said as he raised his brows with surprise.
“Uh-huh. I’ll show you if you have time.”
I crossed the room and filled my coffee mug. “For that, we have plenty of time.”
Jack filled his cup too, then we followed Billy downstairs into the tech department. The lower level was always cold, possibly because it was beneath the ground surface or maybe because the autopsy room and morgue were down there. No matter what, goose bumps always rose on my arms when I was on that lower floor.
“Grab a chair,” Billy said as he powered up David Smith’s computer.
Jack and I each pulled over a roller chair that was sitting along the wall. We sat facing the computer monitor as Billy showed us David’s secret history.
“Apparently he accessed this site at least once daily, sometimes more than that. Everyone has a pseudonym as their user name. Without the browsing history, it would be tough to know who uses this site and who doesn’t,” Billy said as he walked us through David’s contacts.
“So, even though he’s communicating with numerous young ladies, we have no idea who any of them are because of the fake user names?”
“That’s correct. This isn’t a free website, so anyone who signs up as a member has to pay for the service. That means the real names are recorded and available but most likely only with a warrant.”
I groaned. “Yeah, these days we need warrants for everything. We have to track down the owner of this site first and go from there. If Lena confirms our latest vics are the missing husbands, we’ll get a warrant for their computers and a warrant for the member list.”
Jack added, “I wonder if we should mention the site to Whitney or not?”
“That’s a tough call. The question is, was she actually that clueless or just withholding information from us to save face? Let’s run it past Clark and see what he thinks.” I glanced at the clock at the bottom right of the computer screen. “I need to get back upstairs, anyway. I want to talk to the lieutenant before I head out. Great work, Billy. Thanks.”
He nodded. “No problem.”
Jack and I took the stairs to the main level where my tense shoulders finally relaxed. The temperature was at least ten degrees warmer upstairs. Clark’s office door was halfway open, but I knocked, anyway.
“Boss, do you have a minute?” I asked.
“Sure, come on in.”
Jack and I took seats in the guest chairs and told Clark what Billy had found on David Smith’s computer.
“You know, we may be getting somewhere with the cheaters’ website. This entire mess could be about infidelity and nothing more.” Clark took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Jack, find out where Lena is with the DNA profile on our vics. If their DNA matches the missing husband’s toothbrushes, we’re good to go forward with the warrants.”
“Got it.” Jack stepped out and called the ME’s office from his desk. He talked for less than a minute.
Clark and I watched through the glass. I saw the disappointment written across Jack’s face when he hung up.
“Apparently we aren’t going to know the results today,” he said as he returned to the lieutenant’s office. “Lena said maybe tomorrow.”
Clark rolled back his desk chair and got up. “Okay, get on it. Let’s wrap up any loose ends while we wait for the post office warrant and the DNA results. Jade, get to Germantown. Jack, I want you to get Whitney Smith in here.”
“It might be easier if I go there, boss. Her kids haven’t started school yet, and I guarantee it would be a big mistake if they came with her.”
Clark rolled his eyes but agreed. “Okay, go there and tell her about the website. Try to get a read on her by saying this new evidence could put her back on our radar. See if she coughs up anything additional we can use. Also, ask her if she was at the post office lately. May as well get her scratched off that list. Take Billings with you. I sent Clayton to the police department to compare notes with their detectives.”
“Yep, we’re on our way.” Jack and Billings gathered their notepads and phones, then slid their service weapons into their shoulder holsters and left.
“I should head out too, boss.”
Clark nodded as I dropped my phone into my pocket and grabbed my purse, notepad, and gun.
“Keep me posted, Jade.”
“Will do.” I crossed the bull pen and left.
Chapter 49
The drive to the post office would take me twenty minutes from the sheriff’s department. Germantown was a cozy little village of about fifteen thousand people. The town prided itself on having one of the best school districts in the state, and the high school’s basketball and football teams always competed in the state championships.
Every commercial building throughout the village had to represent a German vibe in its architecture. Most were post-and-beam or, as the Germans called it, “fachwerk.” I drove east down Mequon Road, which took over Main Street years back. Each side of the street had post-and-beam buildings, and even the fast-food restaurants were styled that way. At the last set of lights before the county roads took over, I turned left. The post office was the second building on my left. I turned into the parking lot, killed the engine, and exited the cruiser.
The building was small, nothing like North Bend’s post office. Other than the required German facade, the interior was relatively plain. Through the main entrance, I could turn left where the mail boxes and packaging supplies were, or go right and ask somebody at the counter to tell the postmaster I had arrived. I opened the second glass door and entered the area where the two counter clerks stood. Three people were in line ahead of me.
“Next,” the counter clerk said when it was finally my turn.
I approached the window, told the woman who I was, and showed her my badge.
“One moment, please,” she said and disappeared around a corkboard wall filled with pinned notices and posters. It took only a few seconds to scan the wall and read the announcements. The first showed what could and could not be shipped via the United States Postal Service. Another sheet went over the laws governing that facility, and the last sheet showed postal rates and shipping options. Hanging in the far corner of the wall were several posters with mug shots of wanted felons.
As I waited, I tapped my fingers on the counter and stared at my stamp choices through a wall-mounted glass case. I heard footsteps approaching and voices getting closer. I looked up. Any second, the clerk and postmaster would appear from around the wall.
“Hello, Sergeant Monroe. I’m James McHenry, postmaster for Washburn County. Please, come with me. We can speak in my office.”
I passed through a side door and followed the postmaster down a corridor that turned several times. Postal workers to my left were sorting mail and boxes. Farther to my right, an open overhead garage door showed more postal workers filling their trucks for the day.
“Here we are,” Mr. McHenry said. At the end of the corridor, he opened a wooden door that bore a plaque reading Postmaster.
He held the door open and allowed me through. The room was small, void of windows, and had a desk and one guest chair facing it. I assumed two would have been a tight fit. A large fluorescent light within the ceiling tiles lit the room. A picture of the president hung behind the postmaster’s desk.
“Please have a seat, Sergeant. Go ahead, you have my full attention.”
“Thank you, sir, and I’ll get directly to the point. As a law enforcement agent, I don’t have time to beat around the bush.
”
He smiled and nodded for me to continue.
I tried to get a read on him and his personality as I spoke. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, seemed pleasant enough, and was a decent-looking man. He had nicely groomed brown hair, a slender build, and wore stylish wire-rimmed glasses. A wedding ring on his left hand made me hope he’d have a certain amount of empathy in the matter. Families and the community were deeply affected by these recent crimes. I’d make sure to bring that up.
I pulled out the receipt Mr. Crane had found lying on the ground next to David Smith’s car. I slid it across the desk so he could take a look. “What I need from the post office in North Bend is to see the video footage of whoever dropped off the package that goes along with this receipt. Would the sender have to sign for an insured parcel?”
“Not at all. The receiver would have to sign for it. The sender only signs if they paid with a credit card, and according to this receipt, it appears they didn’t.”
“That’s why we need to see the footage. We’re trying to make a connection between this receipt and the most recent crimes committed in North Bend.”
Mr. McHenry furrowed his brows. “The killings?”
“That’s correct, sir. How many cameras are at that post office?”
He raked his fingers through his hair as if that would help him think. “Most post offices are similar. They all have cameras at the back where the loading docks are, but that’s irrelevant. Let’s see, anywhere there would be customers is what you need, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, there’s a camera outside the entrance facing the street, there’s two at the windows, and one by the mailboxes.”
“You realize that time is of the essence here, don’t you?” I added.
“I do.”
“If the video feed shows us what we’re hoping it does, then we’ll also need to have access to a post office box. The point I’m trying to make is, we’d prefer not to have to wait for the warrant. It’s just extra red tape. We’ll get the video footage and post office box number no matter what, but we both just agreed that time is of the essence.” I smiled and waited. The ball was back in his court.
“I see. So you want my permission to access the video feed inside the counter area and possibly outside, as well as access to open a particular post office box? And this information is directly related to the recent murders?”
“You nailed it, sir.”
“May I have your card, Sergeant? I have a few phone calls to make first. If I get the okay to allow you access without a warrant, I’ll meet you back in North Bend this afternoon.”
I pulled a card out of my jacket pocket and handed it to him. I stood and shook his hand. “With your help, we can greatly expedite this investigation. Thank you, Mr. McHenry, and I’ll be waiting for your call.”
I walked out, fist pumped the air, and called Lieutenant Clark as I drove back to North Bend.
Chapter 50
I was back in the bull pen by eleven thirty. Lieutenant Clark sat in one of my guest chairs, his right leg crossed over his left knee. He said he had started the second pot of coffee even though he was the only person in the bull pen other than me.
“I sure hope Postmaster McHenry calls back soon. I sort of pushed the urgency to do the right thing and how time was of the essence. Since he wore a wedding ring, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to push the family and community need for closure.”
“Smart thinking, Jade. Now we just need him to convince the right people to allow us access without a warrant. I doubt if they would get any backlash from the public for helping us out sooner rather than later. We could get the ball rolling today instead of late tomorrow.”
“Have you heard from Jack and Billings?”
“Jack called and said they were on their way back. They’re stopping for fast food first. You might want to give him a call if you haven’t eaten anything yet. They’re picking up a couple of burgers for me.”
I grinned. “What, no celery stalks and carrot sticks?”
“I’m sick of rabbit food. I’m a grown man and need meat and grease once in a while. Just don’t tell Liz—she’d kill me.”
I made the zipping-my-lips gesture and called Jack. I asked him to pick me up a double cheeseburger and fries. Clark went back to his office. I heard his phone ring moments later, and with the door open, I caught his side of the conversation.
I pushed back from my desk when he called me into his office. “That was the judge, and he’s allowed warrants for Larry Taylor and John Leiter’s homes.”
“Really? I wasn’t expecting those yet.”
“When Billy told us about the information on David Smith’s computer, I called the judge back. I told him Lena was almost positive that Larry and John were the missing husbands. They might have been members of that website as well. He expedited the warrants. It can’t hurt to check. Even if Larry and John aren’t our vics from the church, they’re still missing, and their computers may hold important information.”
“I agree, boss, so now what?”
We both turned toward the door when Billings and Jack walked in with four white bags from the drive-through restaurant. Clayton arrived minutes behind them.
“Eat quickly. The warrants should be here in fifteen minutes,” Clark said as he dug into his burger.
“What’s going on?” Jack asked.
I brought a paper plate over to my desk from the coffee station and sat down. With the napkin spread out in front of me, I dumped my fries on it then squeezed the foil pouch of ketchup onto the plate. “We’re finally making progress. We have warrants coming for Larry Taylor and John Leiter’s computers, and we may even get the post office footage today. The postmaster is checking into it.” I chomped down a fry slathered in ketchup.
“That is good news,” Clayton said as he stole a few fries off my napkin.
“Jade, I want you and Jack at the Taylor house. Clayton, you and Billings take the Leiter house. Bring back all of their electronic devices,” Clark said.
Jan walked into the bull pen with two familiar looking tri-folded documents. “Hi, guys, a courier from the courthouse just dropped these warrants off.”
Billings took them from Jan and thanked her. We finished our lunch, gathered our necessities and the warrants, and headed to the parking lot.
“I’ll call Taylor’s wife and give her a heads-up that we’re on our way.”
Clayton nodded. “Yeah, we’ll do the same with Leiter’s wife.”
I had the original interview notes from when Jamison and Horbeck met with Larry Taylor’s wife several days ago. Her name, address, and phone number were included.
I read from the notes as Jack drove. “Says here Debra and Larry were married for sixteen years and have one daughter, Lisa, who is a freshman in high school. Larry was forty-two, and Debra is forty and volunteers at St. Joe’s once a week at the information counter. Larry was an engineer at a company that made outdoor lighting.”
Jack huffed.
I turned my head. “What’s with the huff?”
“Marriage, that’s all.”
“Okay, enlighten me, Mr. Know-it-all. Don’t forget, I was married once too.”
“Yeah, maybe I should keep my opinions to myself.”
I laughed. “No, please share. You’ve already stuck your foot in your mouth. May as well choke on it too.”
“It just seems that the sanctity of marriage isn’t important to people—they get bored so easily with each other. Who stays married anymore these days or remains faithful to their partner?”
“Good question. Maybe you should ask Lance.” I chuckled. “I sure didn’t know he was messing around, and apparently most people don’t. The Internet makes it too convenient. How did Whitney act when you guys told her about the website?”
“We took her by surprise, and she started bawling. I really don’t think she had a clue.”
“That’s too bad. Did you ask her about the post office visit?”
/> “She said she wasn’t there and never had a reason to drive David’s car.”
“Okay, we can scratch her off the list. That leaves David or the killer. It looks like we’re getting close to the Taylor house. Turn right at the next intersection. The home is on Clover Lane, two blocks up.” I gave Jack a thoughtful glance. “If it’s any consolation, keep in mind your folks have been happily married for forty years and have three wonderful sons. Don’t become too jaded about marriage.” I laughed.
Jack laughed too. “Great play on words, Ms. Monroe. Jade, jaded—you’re quite the jokester.”
I smiled then pointed at the next mailbox on our right. “This is it.”
Jack pulled into the S-curved driveway of a two-story colonial. The brick driveway was flanked by large oak and maple trees that darkened the lawn and made the residence look like a private sanctuary. The teal-colored home was accented with an eye-popping lavender front door. Perfectly groomed shrubbery lined the sidewalk, and potted plants sat next to a suspended swing on the wide brick porch.
I sighed and turned toward Jack. “This place is so beautiful. I hope she has a gardener.”
I pushed the bell on the right side of the door, and we waited. The sound of clip-clopping shoes approaching told me the house had either tile or wood floors—a nice feature.
The door opened, and an ordinary-looking woman greeted us. I sized her up at the door. Debra was close to my height and weight—tall and slender—with dark blond hair and glasses. She appeared tired and somewhat disheveled, likely from lack of sleep, but she smiled wearily, shook our hands, and invited us in. The house was dead quiet. Not even soft music played in the background. Debra motioned for us to have a seat in the den. Two loveseats mirrored each other with a coffee table separating them, and an enormous stacked-stone fireplace filled the end wall of the room. Jack and I sat on one loveseat, and Debra faced us from the other.
“Debra, we have reason to believe that Larry may be one of the victims from the church murders. I imagine the detectives you spoke with yesterday told you that was possible.”
