"What are they doing here," she said to the deputy.
"This is their investigation."
"Why would the Navy investigate me?"
"Not you," he said, "the owner of the house has been murdered."
"Chase Dawson does not own this house. It belongs to my father."
"That is not what the county records say," he pulled her arm, leading her down the stairs and into the back seat of the car. As she settled in, she notices the Sheriff put her backpack into the passenger seat. He said something into his radio, but Maggie didn't hear because she was distracted by two other Kitsap Sheriff cruisers come down the driveway and parking next to her car.
"It seems a little extreme that I get arrested for breaking and entering when I simply walked into my father’s home. Or at least what I thought was my father’s home. I might accept a Trespassing charge if the supposed owner was even alive."
"We will let the prosecuting attorney's office determine the charge. But our call was that someone broke into this house."
"But I didn't steal anything."
"Because we got here before you did," he said, then looking at her backpack, "what's in the bag?"
"Just personal paperwork."
He lifted the bag and opened the zipper, looked through the pages, and shrugged. He handed the backpack to his partner, who had been standing at the bottom of the stairs.
“Can I at least get my shoes?”
The deputy looked down at Maggie’s stocking feet and shrugged. He tilted his head toward the front door, and his partner headed for the house, pausing in front of Maggie.
“Where are they?”
“On the hearth of the fireplace,” she said.
The second deputy came out of the house, holding Maggie’s wet shoes while Maggie was ushered into the police car's back seat. She watched the Military officer produced a roll of yellow police tape and tied it across the front door.
Chapter 5
When Maggie arrived at the Sheriff's office, she was led into the building's side door into a reception area. The officer uncuffed her and had her sit in one of the plastic chairs against a far wall behind a metal gate that was locked shut.
“Wait here,” he said before disappearing for a few minutes coming back with a white plastic bag and another officer.
“Ms. McFarlin, please follow officer Rodriguez for processing. Maggie got out of the chair and followed the young woman. The young woman had huge brown eyes exaggerated further by the thick black eyeliner and long false eyelashes. She had a friendly smile as she again informed Maggie of her Miranda rights.
“Do you understand your rights?” she asked.
“Yes,” Maggie said, wanting to smile back but was too scared about what was coming next. She remembered watching movies where they put the prisoner in a cell and hosed them down naked. She saw a pack of rubber gloves and wondered if she would be searched, inside and out.
But the only thing the officer did was electronically scan her fingerprints.
“Stand here,” the young woman, still smiling, placed Maggie against a wall where her height was recorded. Maggie looked down at her stocking feet. ‘These socks are ruined,’ she thought.
“Smile,” officer Rodriguez said.
Maggie looked up, confused when the flash went off and realized too late that it would be her official mug shot. She was anxious since she had never been arrested, but soon she that anxiety turned to anger. She had done nothing wrong.
The young deputy was friendly and treated Maggie very professionally, so Maggie held in her angst. It wasn’t this woman’s fault. Maggie even forced a sweet smile as she was deposited in the small holding room, complete with the two-way mirror window, just like the movies. Surprisingly, the officer handed Maggie the white bag that contained Maggie’s shoes and backpack.
Maggie pulled out the backpack and dug out her cell phone and Trey's card from the front pocket and dialed his office number. The office was now closed, so she left a message with his answering service but flipped the card over and dialed Trey's cell number. He answered on the third ring.
She explained the situation, careful of every word, not knowing if anyone was listening behind the two-way mirror. Trey reminded her not to answer anything and don’t have any conversations with anyone. He was on his way.
Maggie couldn’t help herself; she had to call Mike. He would know what to do.
“Hey, Maggie, what’s up?” Mike answered on the first ring. It had only been a few days since she saw him last, but when she heard his voice, she couldn't help feeling some relief.
“I sort of got arrested,” she said into the phone, turning her back to the mirrored glass.
“What do you mean you got arrested?” his voice got loud and then soft. “Where are you now?”
“I’m in jail. I was at my father’s house when the Sheriff showed up and arrested me for breaking and entering. It’s totally ridiculous. There are no neighbors, and I didn’t think there was an alarm system, but the Sheriff’s showed up and arrested me.” Maggie then whispered, “Chase was living there. I am still here waiting for a lawyer.”
“Don’t say another word and wait for your attorney, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I am going to make arrangements for Zoey and get there as soon as I can.”
“Absolutely not, Mike. Zoey needs you there. I will be fine. I promise.”
“Maggie,” Mike started and after a long pause said, “please be careful. Call me after you are out of there and fill me in, okay?”
“I will, I promise.”
“And don’t talk to anyone; trust me.”
“I promise,” she said again, feeling some sense of relief.
“Call me as soon as you can,” Mike's voice cracked. He sounded concerned she wished she had waited to call him.
“Okay, bye,” Maggie hung up her phone and tucked it back into her backpack. She slipped on her still damp shoes.
The room where they left Maggie was not what she expected. It was more like a small conference room than a holding cell. It had a large table and six chairs situated in the center of the room. There were even several vending machines on the far wall. She dug through her backpack, hoping to find four quarters so she could get a cup of coffee. She found three when Trey walked into the room.
"Breaking and Entering?" he asked before even saying hello.
"It's ridiculous,” Maggie turned to face him, “I walked into my father's house. It wasn't even locked. The crazy thing is…" Maggie lowered her voice, "Chase was living in one of the spare bedrooms. The deputy told me that someone reported the break-in, and that Chase is the actual owner of the house."
Trey sat silent for a minute staring at Maggie. After a few quiet minutes, he took his phone out of his pocket, scrolled through a page or two before pressing the talk button. Maggie listened as Trey explained the situation and then was silent, listening to what the person said on the other side.
"That was my father," Trey said as soon as he hung up. "It doesn't seem like a difficult case. There is no way the Breaking and Entering charge will stick. He thinks they are just trying to scare you for some reason. Trespassing is still serious, but it’s a misdemeanor. He believes the judge will view this as an example of the wrong place at the wrong time. You couldn't get permission from the owner because he is deceased. He thinks if we present the judge with an affidavit from your sister saying she permitted you to go in, the judge will dismiss the charges."
"Are you able to take my case?" Maggie asked.
"Honestly, Maggie, I can’t. I have far too many cases on my desk to give you any attention, but my father is available, and he is known as one of the best criminal attorneys in the state."
"He sounds expensive," Maggie said.
"He is expensive but definitely worth it. He charges $900 an hour for his time and $500 for work by the paralegal. You will have to come up with a $5,000 retainer. Is that an issue?"
"The money’s not an issue, but the
whole thing is simply ridiculous, but what choice do I have?" Maggie asked. What about my sister?"
"I promise, your sister is my number one priority right now, but unfortunately, as I said, I have a lot of cases on my desk. The state is paying for my services in her case. In a few days, I will have more time but right now..."
"I understand. What about your father, if I pay her legal fees?” Maggie asked.
"I’m sure my father would take the case, but Maggie, the cost of a murder charge can really add up.”
“Like how much?”
“A million, maybe two.”
"Can I write you a check?" Maggie said.
“Seriously?” Trey looked sideways.
“No, not seriously. I don’t have that kind of money,” Maggie said, “I guess you're sticking with her.”
"What about Liza’s bail?” Trey asked, “It is likely going to be set at least a $1 million. You would need to come up with $100,000 to secure the bond, but if you don’t have the cash, you should be able to use her home's equity or secure it with something of value. But your sister’s financial statement doesn’t look very liquid."
"You have got to be kidding."
"Sorry," Trey said. "Murder is a serious crime and requires resources."
"I should have gone to law school," Maggie said.
Trey smiled. "The good news is that they are going to release you now and schedule you to appear within the next few weeks. You can bring a check or wire the funds to the office tomorrow, and my father will file all the paperwork on your behalf. Hopefully he can get the charges against you dropped. Remember, the bail hearing for your sister is scheduled for tomorrow morning, so make sure and have the funds ready to post bail.”
“Is there a chance she won’t be released?”
“The prosecutor is going to try to keep her locked up, but honestly, I believe the judge will let her bond out. Most of my clients have trouble getting the funds for a bond, but in this case, it could be years for this case to come to trial, so getting the bail, is even more important if she doesn’t want to wait it out in jail.”
“Years?”
“This isn’t a typical case for Kitsap County and the Prosecutor also has limited resources but honestly, the longer it goes, the better for us.”
"Okay, thanks for all your help, Trey," Maggie said as Trey picked up the briefcase he never even opened. He walked to the door and knocked loudly. The officer must have been standing at the door because it opened instantly.
Maggie stood but didn't move. Trey turned slightly to wave goodbye before he disappeared.
"You are free to go," the officer said.
"I can go?" Maggie said, tentatively picking up her backpack.
"Unless you would rather stay," the officer said, smiling. "Just check in with the Desk Sergeant for your court appearance information."
Maggie didn’t waste any time and left the room. She followed the exit signs until she reached the Desk Sergeant who handed her instruction sheets and wrote the date December 15 on the top. She hadn’t planned on staying in town that long.
“Can I leave town?” she asked the Desk Sergeant.
“As long as you are back by this date,” he said, pointing at the date with the pen he still had in his hand.
“What about my car?”
“By 5 p.m. It will be in the impound lot. The address is on the second sheet there.” He pointed to the papers she held.
Five o’clock was still two hours away, so Maggie considered if she should have a conversation with her sister before her court appearance tomorrow but decided to wait until she could think everything through.
She was glad that Trey was going to remain as Liza’s attorney. He would allow Maggie herself to investigate Chase’s life while at the same time keeping those things that might just complicate the whole thing private. One thing she knew is that she would have to come up with an alternate suspect. There had to be someone that had a motive to kill Chase. If she hired Trey’s father, he would likely use his own investigators and possibly expose some family secrets that would be better to keep private.
Maggie felt the rumblings in her stomach, now realizing she hadn’t eaten all day, so she walked downtown to Moon Doggies and had a cheeseburger and a beer before calling an Uber to take her to the impound lot, which was a twenty-minute ride close to the small Bremerton Airport.
Getting the car back took a lot longer than expected since it was a rental, and she wasn’t the rightful owner. She called the company and was passed through several representatives before a nice Indian man on the other end explained he could fax or email her a copy of the rental agreement, which should be sufficient for the impound lot.
“There is a copy of the rental agreement in the car,” Maggie said into the phone. She looked at the clerk behind the desk. The clerk shook his head. “Yes, please email that to me.” Now the clerk nodded his head.
She hung up the phone.
“Everything in the car was removed by the Sheriff’s Department. You should be able to retrieve your belongings from the Desk Sergeant.”
“Nice to know that now,” Maggie said.
It was another half hour before Maggie finally received the email and showed it to the clerk, who then had her pay $200 and sign some paperwork.
Finally, she was headed back to the hotel, but she needed a glass of wine, so she stopped at a convivence store and found a half-decent bottle with a twist-off cap since she didn't have a corkscrew with her.
Maggie climbed the outside stairs to her second-floor hotel room. Her feet were still wet and frozen; she took off her shoes and socks and put the shoes on top of the heater vent and her socks in the garbage bin. She found a pair of thick sweatpants and a hoody that she wore instead of wearing pajamas to bed. She took one of the hotel's supplied plastic cups and unwrapped it and poured herself some of the wine.
She hadn’t had time to call Mike and now it was late on the East Coast, so she didn’t want to disturb him. She considered a text, but it would be too long, so she pulled out her laptop and sent him an email. The day was finally over, and she was dead tired. She considered the cup of wine but closed her eyes instead. She would face tomorrow with a clear head.
Chapter 6
When Maggie opened her eyes, it was still dark outside It was too early to get up but since her body was still functioning on East Coast time, she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, and so she got out of bed and headed for the shower.
After a long hot shower, she made a cup of coffee in the one-cup machine provided by the hotel. She sat in the middle of the bed, turned the local news on just in case anything was reported about her sister and pulled out her laptop.
She clicked on the email icon and scanned through the inbox, looking for a response to the email she had sent to Mike the night before, but there was nothing. She was hoping for a few words of encouragement before she faced court today. Although she wouldn’t be required to speak, she was still nervous for her sister, and somehow Mike always knew what to say. The only other time she had been in a courtroom in front of a judge was for her divorce, and it wasn’t a pleasant experience.
Maggie spent the next half hour deleting junk mail and even paid a few bills, still nothing from Mike. She finally dried her hair and dug through her suitcase, finding a suitable pair of black slacks and a collared shirt she could wear to court. She looked at her email one last time before closing her computer.
She had plenty of time to spare, so she drove through Starbucks and ordered a tall caramel macchiato, which she took one drink from before she spilled the entire cup into her lap. She was happy she didn’t get burned but disappointed she wouldn’t benefit from the caffeine. When she arrived at the courthouse, it was still early, so she easily found a parking spot, got through security and went straight into the woman’s bathroom to dry her pants.
As she exited the woman’s room, she planted herself on a bench waiting for the doors to open. A young woman sat next to her.
&
nbsp; “Are you the sister of Liza Dawson?” she asked.
“Yes,” Maggie said.
“My name is Devlin Swanson, from the Sun. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about your sister’s case?”
Maggie froze. This woman was a reporter. She wasn’t prepared for any questions but knew enough not to get trapped.
“I’m sorry, I have nothing to say to the press at this time.” Maggie stood, turning her back on the woman who also stood.
“I just have one question,” the reporter said.
“No,” Maggie said, walking away. She checked her phone one more time and still no email from Mike. She made sure her phone was on silent before putting it back into her bag.
“Here is my card,” the reporter said. “I really would like to talk. I promise to give your sister the benefit of the doubt.”
“I’m sure you would,” Maggie said, putting the card in her pocket with no intention of ever calling this woman.
It wasn’t long before the Bailiff opened the two double doors to the entrance to Court Room 2B, allowing the spectators to take their seats. The Bailiff set up a sign placed outside the doors indicating: Quiet Court in Session. Maggie was one of the first to enter the courtroom but chose a seat in the last row, closest to the door. She watched several attorneys enter and take seats in the front rows and at two long tables in the front of the courtroom. What looked like friends and family members filled in the middle seats. The young woman who gave her the card and several other reporters, indicated by large Press credentials hanging around their necks, took up the third row. Maggie couldn’t help wondering if they were all there for her sister. It was a big story in a small town.
Finally, the judge entered, and the Bailiff announced, “All rise.”
Everyone stood and a few mumbles from the crowd suffered the stern look of the Bailiff before he announced, “The court is now in session, the honorable Judge Ortisa is presiding, please be seated.”
Deception Trail: A Maggie McFarlin Mystery Page 4
