“Hey, is that the chick that was found dead yesterday?”
Lila groaned.
Returning the picture to her inside pocket, Benoit gave Dillon a forgiving grimace. “That would be the unfortunate girl. Do you remember seeing her on Monday as she left the school?”
“Yeah, I remember her. She annoyed Frankie.”
“Frankie, your girlfriend?” Lila asked.
Dillon scowled at her. “Duh.”
“What about her annoyed Frankie?” Benoit asked, catching the man’s attention.
“That Maya chick had it in her head that Frankie knew how to get in contact with some dude who had some friends she wanted to meet up with.”
Benoit’s confusion mirrored Lila’s.
Dillon held up his hand. “Look, this chick was wanting to hook up with some dealer. Said her cousin was coming to town and they were going to want the good stuff.”
“The good stuff meaning drugs?” Benoit asked.
“Yes. But Frankie and I aren’t into that.”
“I’m not here about that, Mr. Reed. Let’s stay on topic. On Monday, Maya came out of the school while you were there? Right?”
“I just dropped Frankie off, and needed to catch a friend before I left. The Maya chick came skipping out of the school.”
The video had confirmed that part.
“Did you see a rusty white car with Illinois plates waiting for her?” the sheriff pressed.
Another unamused duh expression. This kid would try the patience of Saint Monica.
“Work with me here, Mr. Reed. Did you happen to see the driver?”
“Yeah, I did. It was some dude.”
Lila jolted. “A dude?”
“Didn’t I just say that?”
Benoit’s features pinched. “Yes, you did. You’re sure it was a male driver, and not a female?”
“I know what a guy looks like versus a girl.”
“Have you seen him before?”
Dillon shook his head. “They must have known each other. She got all giggly and waved at him like a little kid.”
Another confirmation of what they’d seen on the video, but that was when they’d assumed it was Regan in the car.
“Was there anyone else in the car?” Lila asked.
“Nope. Just the dude driving and Maya when she got in.”
“Did you happen to see which direction they went after leaving?”
“Nope. My friend came out then.”
Benoit sighed. “Okay. I think that’s what we needed, Mr. Reed.”
He huffed. “You know what you did is considered police brutality.”
“Actually, it’s not, Mr. Reed. You ran when there was no need to. Deputy Dayne asked you to stop, and you ignored her. Therefore, she stopped you. Had you just waited and let us ask our questions, all of this preamble would have been avoided.”
He gaped at her, blinking.
“Sheriff, I think we’ve done enough education for the day.” Lila gestured for the sheriff to walk with her. “Go home,” she said to the confused Dillon Reed Jr., and the two women left him standing there dumbfounded.
“Are you okay?” Benoit asked. “You didn’t reinjure yourself?”
“Fine. His body cushioned me.”
A good thing too. Not once had she second-guessed herself the moment Dillon bolted. She was finding her way back. As long as this murder investigation didn’t take a sidetrack down memory lane.
Chapter Twenty-Three
On initial exam, the contents of Maya Wagner’s locker appeared that of an ordinary teenage girl. Elizabeth and Lila bagged many of the items, and along with the security footage from the school, they took everything back to the department to sort through. Missing was the one item every teenager in the world owned: her cell phone.
Upon arriving at the bullpen, Georgia waved a pair of pink message slips for Elizabeth. “Call the ME first,” she said.
She beckoned for Lila to follow her into the office, where Bentley greeted them, and she closed the door. Taking her chair, Elizabeth called Olivia’s office, putting the call on speaker.
“Doc, it’s Sheriff Benoit and Deputy Dayne. Have you got any information for me on Mrs. McKinnley?”
“Sorry, Ellie, it took me an hour to convince Jason this was the best idea. He’s adamant that he doesn’t want his mother cut up like that. I think Amy did more in convincing him than I did.”
“But you can, right?”
“Yes. I’ll do it here midafternoon. I had something else pull me away.” Olivia’s sigh brought a weight to Elizabeth’s shoulders. “I did a double-check on Regan’s and Maya’s autopsies. Something was nagging at me that I didn’t tell you about yesterday.”
Elizabeth met Lila’s piercing gaze. “What?”
“Maya was alive longer than Regan.”
“Wait. Are you saying she wasn’t killed at the same time Regan was?”
“Taking in account air temps, rate of decomposition, and entomology activity, I had to adjust my findings. Ellie, I’m not saying you weren’t wrong in your thinking about the first victim. But Maya Wagner was killed shortly before her body was dumped under that tree.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m not sure of anything at this point. But the science points to a difference in their times of death.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Thanks, Olivia. Let me know when you have Mrs. McKinnley’s results ready for me.”
“You’re not coming in?”
“Other pressing matters.”
Elizabeth ended the call. “Maya was alive longer than Regan?”
Lila stared at her, the answer nowhere on her face.
Elizabeth massaged her scalp. “Is every case going to be this complicated?”
Shaking her head, Lila glanced down at the box in her arms. “No. Some of them can be cut and dried, and it makes you glad you do the job you do.”
“Well, though she’s not here to confirm it, we can rest assured that Neva McKinnley heard what she heard Tuesday night or early Wednesday morning.” Elizabeth slapped the top of her desk. “We just need to figure out if Maya was actually in that house and who had her there. And was she killed there?”
“Check with DCI to see if they have the DNA on the blood back. And we need to get toxicology results ASAP.”
Elizabeth made a note. “I’ll call them.”
“Maybe when Meyer and I ride out behind the Barrett place, something will come up.”
“We can only hope.”
Lila rummaged through the bags of evidence from Maya’s locker. “I’ll go catalog these and take a peek. I wish we had either one of the girls’ cell phones.”
“Maya’s parents are working on getting her cell phone records and tracking down Regan’s mother. But they don’t hold out much hope we’ll learn anything. In the past the girls used burner phones to keep the Wagners unaware of what they were doing.”
“We know more than we did when Regan was found. But the clock is ticking. If my suspicions that Mrs. McKinnley was killed bears out, we might have a panicky killer out there who will stop anyone from pointing fingers at them.”
“All the more reason you and Meyer need to get to the Barrett place and scope it out. Process that evidence and head out.”
Rapid-fire knocking put a hold to whatever Lila was about to say.
“Yes?”
Georgia poked her head in, then gave Elizabeth a look she reserved for the troublemaker visitors. “Pratt Meyer wants to meet with you. Now.” How she controlled her voice in these situations amazed Elizabeth. The visitor was never the wiser to her faces.
“Now?”
Now! Georgia mouthed.
“Deputy Dayne—”
“I got my orders, don’t worry. And we’ll go update Fitzgerald.”
“That would be a good idea. Deputy Fontaine will give you the information on the ATVs.”
Cradling the evidence box against her chest, Lila exited the office.
Time for the show. “Come
on in, Mr. Meyer.”
As Pratt Meyer entered, he made it clear he was watching and analyzing Lila before he rudely closed the door, nearly clipping the deputy with the door handle. “Who is that woman?”
“My newest investigator.”
“An investigator? Does the county have the budget to pay for that?”
“She’s a law officer with more years of experience than all the other deputies and myself combined.” She narrowed her gaze. “I believe that’s well within the county budget.”
Pratt adjusted his tie. If only he’d tighten it a little more around that chicken neck and cut off his inflated ego. Bentley huffed and he jerked. His gaze dropped to the dog on sentry duty next to her desk.
“I was under the impression that dogs were not allowed in county-owned facilities.”
“That would be your impression.” Crossing her arms, Elizabeth grasped the threads of her patience. “Mr. Meyer, I believe I made myself clear over the phone this morning that I did not have time for a meeting with you today.”
“What I have to discuss with you will not wait. I have put off this conversation long enough.”
Oh goodie. This should be scintillating.
Pratt glanced around the office, pausing on Bentley’s chair. Her border collie abandoned her post and hopped onto her throne, settling in a curl with her eyes lasered on Pratt. The corners of his mouth twisted, and he sidestepped to the remaining seat in the room, then sat.
Okay, so they were doing this. Elizabeth eased onto her chair, resting her arms on the desktop. “I can give you five minutes, Mr. Meyer, no more than that.”
He leaned forward. “It will take as long as needed.”
She humored him with a feral smile. “I don’t know what type of working relationship you had with Sheehan, but I will not be pandering to your toeing the party line.”
White streaks popped at the corners of his eyes and mouth. “Sheriff Benoit, despite whatever you were told or what you heard, there was no such relationship. After the outburst I was subjected to yesterday, I can only imagine the fabrications spun about me and mine.”
“You and yours.” Elizabeth tilted her head. “Four minutes.”
Nostrils flaring, he stiffened. “Very well. Word has reached me that Martha Kauffmann has instigated a witch hunt against me. Laying claim that I was the perpetrator in the death of her son Daniel.”
Coughing out a laugh, Elizabeth covered her mouth and cleared her throat. She drew a breath and released it. Cleansed of her amusement, she resumed her stare down with Pratt. “Forgive me. This farce of a meeting is nothing more than a tattling session.”
“Excuse me. There is nothing in this situation that makes it juvenile in any way. That woman has long spread lies and dissension to smear my family name. Claiming I had anything to do with her son’s accident is just another ploy on her part to make me look bad in front of the populace.”
“Why would that matter to her?”
He slapped the chair arm. “How should I know?”
Elizabeth narrowed her gaze. “What do you expect me to do about it?”
“Stop her. Tell her to cease and desist. Effective immediately.”
“No.” She pressed her hands flat to the desk. “This Kauffmann-Meyer feud has gone on for a century or more, and, frankly, I don’t care to see it played out any longer. You and Ma need to wrap up your differences and end it.”
“You fail to see the implications in this.”
“I fail to see nothing. What I see are two grown adults acting like children. And what’s unbelievable about this is the familial relationship between your wife and Ma that has nothing whatsoever to do with the Kauffmanns and the Meyers.” She leaned forward. “Tell me, Pratt, what is this feud about?”
He sat back, interlacing his fingers, regarding Elizabeth. “I understand now.”
“Do you? And what is it that you understand?”
An ugly twist of his lips revealed his canines. “Martha has managed to pocket you.”
Heat infused Elizabeth’s face. She stared at her clenched hands, composing herself before she climbed over the desk and ripped out his throat. How dare he imply her position as bought and paid for.
“For the sake of the dignity of this office, I will ignore your unfounded accusation. I had difficulties understanding why your son hates you.” Elizabeth pushed to her feet and peered down at Pratt. “I think I fully comprehend it now. This meeting is over. Show yourself out.”
Rising, Pratt straightened his suit jacket, leveling her with what she assumed was his most withering glare. “This is far from over, Sheriff.”
“I hold no illusions that it will ever end.”
Crisply turning on his heel, he moved to the exit.
“If Ma is right.”
He stopped before opening the door and turned back to Elizabeth.
“And you had something to do with Daniel’s death, I promise you, I will tear your life apart. And I fear the horror it will bring down on Sophie’s head.”
“Do not lodge idle threats against me, Sheriff.”
She smiled. “Who said they were idle?”
With a sneer, he jerked the door open and marched out, slamming the door in his wake.
Bentley let out a growl, baring her teeth.
“I feel the same way, girl.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“I hate this,” Meyer blurted out as he drove them both to Fitzgerald’s home.
Lila glanced over. “You hate what?”
“Going about my duties as if nothing horribly wrong just happened to a resident of this county. We should be looking for her killer.”
The man was beating himself up over this. This morning he’d tried to roll Mrs. McKinnley’s stiffened body onto her back to administer CPR, but Lila knew it was a lost cause. Meyer nearly howled the second he realized what was wrong.
She reached over and gripped his forearm. “When we have a suspect to tie to her death, we’ll track them down and bring them to justice. Right now, we don’t have one clue to point fingers in any direction.”
“How about the Kauffmann family?”
Frowning, she released her hold. “That’s a fairly specific guilty party. Why would they want to kill Neva McKinnley?”
“We’re going over to the timber behind the Barrett place to see if the killer left anything behind. People use it all the time for their clandestine activities. It’s no secret Ma Kauffmann hasn’t had that house torn down because of the shady dealings going on in and around it. And she’s had it out for the mayor since he had the county condemn the building. Matters aren’t helped when his mother lives nearby and spies on the place.”
“Bitter much?”
He flinched, jerking the car across the center line. He guided the unit back to their side of the road. “No.”
“Oh, come on. If your fangs could drip poison, they would. You admitted that your father and the Kauffmann family have had it out for each other. Sure you’re not invested in that feud?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Try again, and with a little more emphasis.”
“I’m serious. Whatever feud my father has with other people is not my fight.”
“Then let’s go ask him.”
“No!”
Impressive. Lila could rate that flat-out rejection right up there with the one she’d received each time she’d arrested a juvenile delinquent and told them their parent was about to receive a call from protective services.
“Never mind,” he said. “I’m just venting.”
Well, the sheriff had warned her to be careful with Brent’s family history. “It’s fine. What we found this morning would shake any seasoned police officer. Believe me, we’ll find whoever killed Mrs. McKinnley and those two girls.”
Silence ruled the remainder of the drive, which wasn’t far.
Meyer pulled into the tiny drive of a house that looked more like a trailer than a modular home, and then cut the engine. He didn’t move to exi
t the unit, just stared at the back end of a powder-blue, boxy-styled Ford pickup.
That truck looked like it should be sitting in a car museum somewhere and not out exposed to the elements.
“He’s going to give you attitude,” Meyer said.
“Let ’im.”
“Maybe I should talk with him?”
“Will he listen to you?”
Meyer huffed. “Ben only listens to himself.”
Lila popped the door. “Time to change that, huh?” Out of the vehicle, she hunched her shoulders against the cold, and without waiting for Meyer, she marched up to what appeared to be the front door.
Banging the side of her fist against the screen door, noting how it bounced under her blows, she gave Fitzgerald two minutes and banged again. Meyer joined her on her third round.
“Fitzgerald, get up!”
“His bedroom might be in the back.”
“This thing has thin walls. He can hear me.”
Raising her fist for another loud knock, she paused as the bolt clicked. A bleary-eyed Fitzgerald wearing a rumpled T-shirt and shorts peered through the glass partition.
“What the hell?”
“We need to talk.” Lila flicked her hand at his door. “Open up.”
His sleepy look was exchanged for a perturbed one. He glanced at Meyer, and then jabbed the latch, pushing the screen door out. Lila grabbed the door before Meyer could and gestured for him to enter first.
They stepped into a sparse yet tidy living room. Fitzgerald had all the necessary items a bachelor required. Leather recliner, massive flat screen, and the latest videogame console for all his gaming needs. Unlike his peers, Fitzgerald’s mother had done him right by teaching him the value of cleanliness being next to godliness.
He meandered into his combination dining room-kitchen, separated by a dark wood partition wall that doubled as a bookshelf, which carried a varied array of books from Jim Butcher to a biography on John F. Kennedy.
“A fat lot of good it does me to get a full eight in when you come banging on my door.” Fitzgerald rattled the metal pot in his state-of-the-art coffeemaker.
“I’ll hang later in my shift,” Meyer said, shoving his hands in his coat pockets.
The Killer in Me Page 18
