by V. B. Tenery
The air was heavy with steam yet she shivered. Minutes passed and finally the warmth seeped into her skin and she wished she could stay here forever. But that was cowardice and she’d always faced her problems head on. This would be no different.
Josh asked her to postpone any decision about their marriage until the murder was resolved. She’d agreed. Josh was many things, but he wasn’t a killer. Nevertheless, he had to be the number one suspect. She would stand by him until the killer was found. She could do nothing less.
With a towel wrapped around her hair, she shrugged into a white terry-cloth robe as a soft knock sounded on the door.
“Sara,” her aunt’s voice sounded through the door. “I took a message from a Detective Davis. He asked that you call him.”
“Thanks, Maddie. I’ll be down shortly.” She had been expecting to hear from the authorities, but not so soon.
Later downstairs, she returned Detective Davis’s call.
“Would it be possible for you to stop by the station tomorrow morning for a few questions?” he asked.
They agreed on a 9:00 a.m. meeting, and she returned to her room, her brow wrinkled with the problems she could foresee.
CHAPTER 4
Wednesday, July 8
Twin Falls Police Station
Twin Falls, Texas
Sara arrived five minutes early for her meeting. She stopped at the desk and asked for Detective Miles Davis.
“If you’ll have a seat, Ma’am, I’ll find him for you,” the Sergeant said.
To quell her nervousness while she waited, she tried to check messages on her office email account but couldn’t concentrate.
She hated that McKenzie had died so violently. Nobody deserved to die alone at the hands of a merciless killer. In a rational world, she would have died of old age surrounded by her children and grandchildren. But Sara’s greatest concern at the moment was that she and Josh were prime suspects.
After ten minutes had passed Police Chief Matt Foley stood in front of her. “Come on back to my office, Sara. Detective Davis and his partner had an unexpected summons back to court this morning. I told him I’d cover your interview.”
Sara knew Matt Foley through his wife, Mary, Sara’s best friend. He was an extraordinarily handsome man, dark and well over six-feet with broad shoulders and kind hazel eyes.
He opened the door to his office and ushered her to a seat.
While he seated himself behind his desk, she let her gaze wander around the large space.
His desk and credenza were cleared except for a telephone and small tape recorder on the desk. His organized work surface didn’t surprise her from things Mary said about Matt. The painting on the wall of an Indian buffalo hunt also suited his western lawman persona.
His face was stoic and her personal relationship with him, although very limited, made her uncomfortable and more than a little embarrassed. But this wasn’t her call. She was only a bit player in this drama.
“Would you like something to drink before we begin? I can have someone bring coffee or water?”
She shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m good.”
“This won’t take long. Davis brought me up to speed on the case. He just wanted to trace your actions Friday.” He pulled the small recorder to the center of the desk. “I’m going to record this if that’s okay with you.”
“Of course,” she said.
The recorder was already set up. He pushed play, and stated the date and those present.
“How well did you know McKenzie St. Martin?” he asked.
“I didn’t know her at all. I only spoke to her once over the phone. She called me Friday.”
“Why did she call you?”
Sara felt her face flush with heat. “She told me Josh wanted a divorce.”
“Was that true?”
“Not according to Josh.”
“What did you do after the phone call?”
“I left work and went home.”
“What time?”
She knew her answer would not eliminate her as a suspect. Jealous wife leaves work early with plenty of time to murder her rival. “A little before lunch . . . around eleven.”
“Did you go straight home?”
“Yes. And I was there all evening until ten o’clock that night.”
“What time did you get home?”
“Eleven-thirty to eleven-forty-five.”
“Can anyone verify that?”
“My secretary, Jane can verify the time I left. Maddie and our housekeeper, Beatrice can verify the time I arrived home.” Matt knew her aunt, Maddie Jamison. She had been one of his teachers in high school.
Matt gave the time and stated that the interview was over then shut off the recorder. “That’s all we need for the moment. If there are any more questions, we’ll call you.”
“How is Mary? I’ve called a couple of times last week and she wasn’t at home.”
His brow wrinkled and he looked as though he might not want to discuss Mary under the circumstances. He answered anyway. “She’s in remission now, thank God, but still goes in for regular monitoring. It was very rough on her for a while. She’s feeling better. Her biggest issue now is self-esteem with her hair loss and scars. But you know Mary. She always bounces back.”
“I’ll see if I can’t find her some pretty head scarves. They make wonderful pieces for chemo patients, and with her lovely face she’ll be beautiful.”
Matt’s phone rang. He excused himself by raising his finger in a just-a-minute gesture and answered. He listened, and then said. “Send him back.”
“Your husband is on his way to my office.”
A knock sounded and Josh stood in the doorway.
He offered his hand to Matt, then turned to Sara. “You should have waited for me to accompany you. Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she said then looked at Matt. “If we’re through here . . . tell Mary I’ll see her soon.”
***
Compassion surged through Matt Foley as he watched Sara leave with her husband. He’d gone easy on her for a number of reasons. Before the interview, Davis informed Matt he was almost positive neither Josh nor Sara was involved in the murder. He’d checked them out six ways from Sunday. The evidence didn’t support them being complicit in the young attorney’s death, but Davis was a firm believer in following the investigator playbook. He would verify her alibi, just in case.
She’d always been thin but she looked almost frail since the last time Matt saw her. At that moment he didn’t much like Josh Bradford. His affair had inserted his wife smack in the middle of McKinsey St. Martin’s murder.
Sara’s friendship with Mary troubled him. He didn’t want his wife worrying about Sara’s problems. He needed all Mary’s energy focused on staying well. She was fighting for her life.
Wednesday, July 8
The Bradford Home
Twin Falls, Texas
In her rearview mirror, Sara watched Josh pull in behind her under the portico. He jumped out of his Porsche and opened her car door. “Let’s take a walk before lunch. We need to talk.”
She knew he was right. They did need to discuss the issues between them. Leaving their marriage problems unresolved was like hanging over a cliff by her fingernails.
He took her hand and they walked along the stone path that led to the back of their home. When they reached the gazebo, he dusted off the bench and motioned for her to sit, then sat beside her.
“You really should have taken me with you to the police station, love. This murder investigation is not to be taken lightly. Once you make a statement you can’t take it back.”
“Josh, I had nothing to do with that woman’s murder. You know it, I know it, and I’m pretty sure the police know it.”
“I wish the justice system worked that way—the guilty were punished and the innocent set free. Unfortunately, it doesn’t. I would venture to guess there is at least one innocent man or woman on death row in every state in the union.�
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He cupped her face in his hands making her look into his eyes. “This breakdown in the system is due to shoddy police work, cops eager to close a case, and inept attorneys. Promise me you won’t talk to the authorities again without me present.”
This wasn’t the subject she’d expected to discuss with him but she nodded her agreement and stood. He pushed her gently back down. “Now I would like to talk about us.
“I’m not sure where to begin.” He looked off into the distance, then back at her. “I’ve made a royal mess of being a husband, but I truly want to make up for all the pain I caused you. I have no excuse for my actions. But McKenzie’s death was a wakeup call for me.” He stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ve risked not only losing you, but possibly spending the rest of my life in a prison cell.”
“Do you really think that’s possible?” she asked.
“Anything is possible in situations like this.”
He seemed sincere and she wanted to believe him. She could at least hear him out. “I’m listening.”
He set back down beside her and ran his hand down over his mouth in a contemplative gesture. “I spoke to Seth Davidson . . . would you be willing to go to marriage counseling with me? If you’re agreeable. I can arrange my schedule to fit whatever is convenient for you and Seth.”
She rose to her feet, expelled a shaky breath soft and slow before she spoke. “Okay, but if this doesn’t work, Josh, that’s it. No more chances.”
He gathered her into his arms and held her close for a moment before he replied. “I’ll make it happen this time. That’s a promise.”
Thursday, July 9
Claremont Apartments
Twin Falls, Texas
Dale McColloch parked across the street from the high-rise building and strode through the entrance. A Hispanic man met him halfway to the elevator. “You with the police?”
The man was medium height, no more than five ten, heavyset with a paunch that hung over his black slacks. Two hundred five perhaps ten pounds more, with dark skin and black thinning hair.
McColloch nodded and stuck out his hand. “Dale McColloch, Director of the Crime Scene Unit.”
The man shook hands, then spoke with a slight accent. “Gilbert Morales, building manager. You here to release the apartment? My company is screaming for me to get that place on the market as soon as possible.”
“I understand your need, Mr. Morales, but I assume the rent is paid until the end of the month. We’re working as quickly as we can. Hopefully you’ll get it back late today or tomorrow, but no promises.”
The man grumbled and stalked back to his office.
Dale made his way up to the fifth floor and down the hallway to McKenzie St. Martin’s former residence. The door was ajar and two of his techs were in the midst of a last walk through.
“You guys about ready to release this place?” McColloch asked. “The manager is calling Davis every hour on the hour.”
“Just a few more minutes and we’re out of here,” one of the techs replied.
McColloch strolled through the spacious apartment with its high ceilings, crown molding and spectacular view. His dream pad, but way above his budget, but he could dream.
He checked out the bathroom’s glass block wall and rain shower, complete with stereo system, and an oversize Jacuzzi tub. Afternoon sun spilled through the glass wall illuminating the entire room with a warm glow. He sighed as he turned to leave when a tiny flash in the air conditioning vent caught his eye. He paused for a moment, then left the room and closed the door behind him.
The manager wouldn’t be getting access to the apartment today.
The electronic equipment he needed to verify his suspicions was back at the lab. He stepped into the hallway and slid his cell phone from his pocket, called Davis, and told him what he suspected.
“You think there’s a spycam in the bathroom air vent?” Davis asked.
“Yeah, but I don’t want whoever installed it to know it’s been discovered. He might destroy any recordings and if I’m right, we may have the murder on tape.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Davis said. “So what’s your plan?”
“I have to get back to the office for some equipment, then I’m going to jam the signal while we check out all the vents, then install my own mini cams, release the crime scene, and see who shows up to remove the old ones.” He chuckled. “I’ll probably mess up the TV and WiFi signals in the building, but it can’t be helped and it won’t last long.”
“That works for me,” Davis said. “Good catch, Mac. If you’re right, we may have our killer behind bars before the weekend.”
Forty-five minutes later, McColloch jammed the signals and was back in the bathroom while his team checked the other rooms. Trusty Phillips head screwdriver in hand, it took only seconds to remove the vent cover, and there, tucked neatly inside the metal air duct was a miniature camera. He quickly resealed the conduit. It took a little longer to install his own motion activated spycam in the lighting fixture. Finished, he stepped back to ensure his installation couldn’t be seen and returned to the living room.
His crew had found other eyes-in-the-sky in every room of McKenzie St. Martin’s home.
He shut down the jamming device and called out, “Okay, guys, let’s tighten this place down and get out of here.”
Now all they had to do was wait for the killer to make his move.
CHAPTER 5
Friday, July 10
Twin Falls Police Station
Twin Falls, Texas
Matt Foley listened as Miles Davis sat across from his desk, filling him in on the latest details of the St. Martin case before he left for the evening. “We’re waiting for information on background checks and fingerprint data on some of the suspects. If our peeping-tom comes back for his spycams,” Davis wiggled his eyebrows and grinned, “we may not need that information.”
“You have a guess as to who spymaster is?” Matt asked.
“It’s either the neighbor or the building super. Both had easy access to her apartment. If it’s the super, I’d bet my pension there are more cameras in the apartments of single women in the complex.”
Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway and Sherriff Joe Wilson stuck his head into the doorway. “Got a minute?”
Matt waved him in. “Sure, come in and take a load off.”
The big man strode through the doorway and leaned a shoulder against the jamb. “Don’t have time. You see the four o’clock news.”
Matt nodded. “The one about Homeland Security dumping a load of illegals here in a warehouse until they can find a permanent home for them? I’ve called in the second shift.”
“Glad to hear that,” Joe said. “Mostly these are honest poor people looking for a better life, but every truckload has a percentage of hardened criminals, and our government won’t let us deport them.”
“Some of our citizens started gathering in the streets when it hit the news,” Matt said. “They’re threatening to turn those buses around. Since the murders of the pastor and his wife last year by illegals, they don’t want them in their community. I just don’t won’t the situation to develop into a riot.”
Joe nodded. “Exactly. That’s why I’m here. I’ll make my deputies available if it starts to get out of hand. Homeland Security deliberately didn’t give the time and route the buses will arrive, but the protesters look well organized. I think they’ll wait the delivery out. It may be an all-night affair. The problem is they’ll just take those folks somewhere else and dump them.”
He shook his head. “Open borders are turning into a nightmare not only for law enforcement but for citizens as well and is overburdening the infrastructure of the entire country.”
“I hear you. With your people I shouldn’t need to call in the third shift.” He turned to Davis. “Drop what you’re working on for the next twenty-four. I’d like you and Hunter in on this. You guys still have your uniforms?”
“Yep,” Davis sai
d. “But that’s like painting a bullseye on our back when the shooting starts.”
“Maybe, but if you’re going to get shot, I’d rather it not be by your fellow officers.”
Davis laughed. “That makes me feel so much better.”
Joe slapped the door facing twice. “Good. I’ll hang out with you tonight until this is resolved.”
Davis watched the sheriff walk away down the hall then turned back to Matt. “You want me and Hunter in a car?”
Matt nodded. “Yep. You guys can split up and ride along with the black and whites. We’ll be doubling up. There aren’t enough cars to accommodate two full shifts out there at the same time.”
Davis hissed a breath through his teeth. “Guess this will be an all-nighter for everyone.”
“I just hope it only lasts that long. I’m going home to change and check on Mary. I’ll see you back here later.”
Satisfied things were well in hand, Matt headed home. A large police presence on the streets would be a big deterrent to anyone thinking about turning this situation into a riot.
At home, Matt showered and slipped into casual clothes and told Mary what was happening, then returned to the station and hung out in dispatch with the watch commander. He hadn’t been there long when Joe Wilson joined him. He too was dressed casually in jeans and a Texas Ranger t-shirt and cap. “Anything happening?
Matt shook his head. “Not yet. It’s real quiet out there. Guess all the black and whites scared the trouble makers inside. Even petty crime is down. You want some coffee? There’s a fresh pot in the break room.”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
Matt led the way back where someone had brought in pastry from the English Bakery on the square. Joe picked up an éclair.
“You want decaf or the real McCoy?” Matt held up a pot with a green top.
“The hard stuff. This isn’t a decaf kinda night.” Joe wiped crème filling from the corner of his mouth with a paper napkin. “These things are messy but I love’em.”
