Dead Center (The Still Waters Suspense Series Book 2)

by Dawn Lee McKenna

  Her face tried to convulse into sobs again, but she held it back, clenching her jaw and covering her face with one hand. After a moment, she nodded her head in the affirmative.

  “My mom,” she choked out, “in Panama City.” She pulled her phone from a pocket and thrust it at Evan. “But, but I… I can’t…”

  It took a few tries, but Evan managed to get the code from her and unlocked the phone. He found the listing for “Mom,” then handed the phone back to her. She shook her head.

  “Would you like me to call her, Karen?”

  She nodded quickly, then rubbed at her wet upper lip.

  Evan copied the number onto his keypad and was about to dial when they heard children’s voices approaching from down the hall.

  “Oh, the kids!” Karen said, covering her mouth. “No!”

  Goff was up and into the hallway before she’d finished speaking. Two little girls stopped short. One looked to be about eight and was wearing a pink softball mitt. The other was younger, maybe five, and was mostly wearing a look of surprise.

  “Oh, good, there y’all are,” Goff said. “Your mama was just sending me to see if you’d take me to the kitchen to get a drink of water.”

  The older girl looked around Goff to the living room. Their mother was looking the other way. Evan nodded and smiled.

  “You are a policeman,” the younger girl said.

  “I am,” Goff answered.

  “Is he the police, too?” The older girl asked.

  “Yep, that’s my boss, and he’s visiting with your mom for a few minutes.” Goff put a hand on each girl’s shoulder and started herding them back down the hall. “Can y’all come help me get a drink?”

  “Why are police here?” the older girl asked.

  “Is the kitchen this way?” Goff asked as they came to the end of the hall.

  “That way,” the younger girl answered, though Goff could see it.

  They walked into a white kitchen made almost painfully bright by the sunlight streaming through a sliding glass door in the breakfast nook.

  “The water comes out of the ’frigerator door,” the smaller girl said. She pointed at a big stainless fridge, the kind with the drawer in the bottom, like Goff’s beautiful bride had been asking for. He’d been saving. He walked around the island, still steering the girls along with him.

  “Can one of you fetch a glass for me?” he asked cheerfully.

  The older girl opened a dishwasher door and pulled out a plastic souvenir tumbler that reminded the drinker of the great time they had during Christmas 2017 at Epcot.

  “Thank you,” Goff said quietly. “What’s your name?”

  “Danielle Marie,” the girl answered, picking at her mitt.

  “I’m Lauren,” her sister volunteered.

  Goff nodded at Danielle’s mitt. “Looks like you play softball,” he said, as he tried to figure out how to make the water go.

  Danielle reached up and pushed an icon that lit up in blue. The water started dispensing.

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  “Me, too!” Goff said. She looked up at him, her brows knit together. “I play on the Sheriff’s team. What position do you play?”

  “Third base,” she said. “What do you play?”

  “Shortstop. Don’t let the gray hair fool you, sugar. I’m quicker than Quaker Oats.”

  He sat down on one of the stools at the granite-covered island.

  “Did Mommy get a ticket?” Danielle asked.

  “No,” Goff answered lightly.

  “Is she in trouble?”

  “Naw, nothing like that, Danielle Marie.”

  “Is Daddy in trouble?” the little one asked.

  “No, honey, nobody’s in trouble. My boss is just visiting your mama.”

  “Daddy’s late,” Danielle said flatly.

  Goff nodded, looking at the fridge. “Hey, who drew that tiger there?” he asked, although he could clearly see Danielle’s name on it.

  “Me,” she said. “Mrs. Newman entered it in the school art show.”

  “You don’t say,” Goff told her. “I can’t draw a thing.”

  She looked back at him. “Daddy’s late,” she repeated.

  Goff tried to look like a nice man who’d just stopped in to visit and get some water. “Is he now?” he asked.

  “He missed my fly ball,” she said.

  Goff nodded. “Well, I’m sure he didn’t mean to,” he told her quietly.

  Evan spent only a minute or two on the phone with Karen Bellamy’s mother, who struck him as someone he would want notified in case of his own emergency. One gasp, a couple of quick and to-the-point questions, and she announced clearly, if a bit shakily, that she would be there within ninety minutes. It was she who suggested that Evan call the Bellamys’ pastor, which he did after getting the name from Karen. He sounded younger than Evan supposed he expected and advised Evan that he would be there in twenty minutes.

  Other than her pastor’s name, Karen said nothing at all while Evan made the calls. She stared at her husband’s driver’s license on the table, or out the window behind Evan, to the inconsiderately sunny day. Evan pulled his small, black notebook and a pen from his pocket. It was only after Evan told her the minister was on his way that Karen met his eye again.

  “Where is he?” she asked. “Jake?”

  Evan hesitated a moment. “He’s still at the park. We’re still processing the scene.”

  She looked around quickly, then made as though to rise. Evan held up a hand.

  “Karen, you can’t be there,” he said firmly. “I absolutely understand your instinct to be with him, but you need to let us do our work, okay? As soon as he’s taken to the medical examiner’s office you’ll be allowed to see him if you want to.”

  He caught the slight flinch when he’d said the word, ‘see.’

  “Maybe…do I need to identify him?”

  “No.”

  “Wait. What exactly happened to him?” She shook her head. “When you first told me, for some reason, I just thought that he was hit by a car, even though I heard what you said.” She blinked a few times. “I mean, when you came to the door, that’s what I expected, because what else would happen to him?”

  “I understand. I’m sorry, but it appears he was attacked.”

  She covered her mouth for a moment, then shook her head. “This doesn’t even seem real.”

  “It might take a while for everything to sink in,” Evan told her. “Let it happen the way your mind wants it to. What time did your husband leave the house this morning?”

  “Um, around six. He used to run a lot, but he was just getting back into it since we moved. He was trying to get healthier. He thought this was a good place for us to get out more, be more active.”

  “Did he run often?”

  “Well, he’s only gotten onto any kind of real schedule in the last few weeks or so. But he usually runs three times a week. Saturday mornings at six, and whichever couple of weeknights he got home early enough.”

  “Did he always run in the park over on Forest Park Road? I’m sorry, I don’t actually know the name of the little park.”

  “I don’t, either, although we’ve gone over there a couple of times to hang out and feed the coots while Jake ran.” She blinked a few times, thinking. “I know he picked up that trail a couple of blocks over that way,” she said, pointing east.

  “The Port City Trail.”

  “Right. He took that up to the park, ran around the park, and came back the same way. He was trying to build up to running the whole trail. Four miles I think?”

  The guy had almost gotten there. Evan was a longtime runner and had run the trail a few times, though he preferred to run near the water, closer to the marina.

  “And he’d been running this route for a few weeks?”

  “Yeah, something like that. I mean, he only started going all the way to the park a couple of weeks ago, maybe?”

  Evan nodded. “Okay. And he never mentioned any
one that was maybe out of place on his runs, anyone that seemed off to him in any way?”

  “No,” she answered, shaking her head.

  Evan took a deep breath as he watched her take a few of her own. “Karen, is there anyone you can think of who would want to hurt your husband? Anyone you know?”

  “No! No, of course not,” she said. “We’re just regular people. We don’t have enemies or drama or whatever. We don’t even know that many people here yet.”

  “Are you new to the area?”

  “Yes. Yes, we moved here right after Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving weekend. From Tallahassee.”

  “What brought you here?” Evan asked, taking notes.

  “Jake was offered a transfer,” she answered, staring out the window. “It was more money, and we’ve always talked about moving somewhere smaller, you know, better for families.”

  There was nothing funny about the irony, and Evan knew from personal experience that the memory of that decision would sneak up on her in her most vulnerable moments.

  “Where was your husband employed?”

  “Seminole Insurance,” Karen answered.

  Evan knew it; they had offices all over Florida. “Can you tell me his supervisor or manager’s name?”

  “Um…Carl,” she answered. Her eyes darted around the wall behind him like someone might have scribbled the name there. “Carl Nelson.”

  “How did your husband like it there?”

  She nodded. “He liked it. I mean, he’s worked for Seminole since before we got married. Um, he started there in 2002, a couple of years after he graduated from FSU.” She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, her hand trembling. “He’s won all kinds of awards and things, you know, for sales and customer retention, that kind of thing.”

  Evan nodded as he wrote, then looked back up at her. “Later today, after you’ve had some time with your pastor and your mother, I’d really appreciate you writing down the names of his friends and family, coworkers, former coworkers, whoever you can think of. With their numbers, if you have them.”

  “Okay.” She swallowed hard and nodded. “I can do that.”

  “We have his phone, we’ll need to keep it for just a bit, but your list could help us know who his contacts are without having to disturb all of them.”

  “Okay,” she said distractedly.

  “But at the moment, you can’t think of anyone he’s had any trouble with recently?”

  “No, not at all. Not even in the past,” she answered. “There—we had a neighbor back in Tallahassee that couldn’t stand Jake because Jake called the police about his dog, but his dog—it was a Rottweiler—the dog was always running loose and coming in the yard. Jake was worried about the girls, you know?”

  Evan nodded. “That’s probably not relevant, but if you can add the neighbor to that list, I’d appreciate it.” He tapped his pen against the notepad for a moment. “What about your husband’s family? Are they close?”

  She shook her head. “His parents are both gone. Cancer. He has a brother, Lance, who’s in the Army in Germany.” She swallowed. “I’ll need to call him.”

  “Okay, Karen,” Evan said. “Has there been anything unusual happening in the last few weeks?”

  “Like what?”

  Evan shrugged. “Jake get into it with anybody in traffic? Have you had any prowlers, anyone around the house that you don’t know?”

  She only had to think for a moment. “No, nothing like that.”

  “Please don’t be offended, but has Jake ever been in trouble with the law?”

  “Oh, Lord no.” She almost smiled. “You don’t understand. He was a missionary kid, one of the rare missionary kids that never went through some kind of rebellious period. Because of the way he grew up, moving from Peru to Panama to the DR, he was always really anxious to put down roots, to stay in one place for a long time, or forever.”

  She looked over at a silver-framed photograph on the end table. Karen and her husband, much younger, both of them wearing flowered shirts, big smiles, and painful-looking sunburns. She nodded at it. “We were only twenty-five when we got married. We didn’t have any money, so we took one of those cheap four-day cruises to the Bahamas.” She swallowed and flicked a tear away from her eye. “We felt so fancy and grown-up.”

  She looked back at Evan. “He worked really hard for us, for me and the kids.” Her eyes pooled suddenly. “It’s really important that you understand what a good guy he was.”

  Evan couldn’t wait to leave.

  “It seems like he was a very good man, Karen,” he said. “I promise you that we’ll remember that.”

  Several minutes later, Evan opened the door for Karen’s pastor, a man of about thirty, wearing faded jeans and a bright white polo shirt. He was completely focused on Karen, and Evan had to respect the man’s way with her. His compassion and warmth seemed genuine without being cloying. Evan didn’t hear a single platitude in the few minutes he observed them.

  Karen asked the pastor to help her tell her kids, and he agreed. Evan collected Goff, who was standing in the open sliding glass door in the kitchen, watching the Bellamy girls kick a ball back and forth. Evan slid his card and a pamphlet on victim support onto the coffee table, picked up Bellamy’s license, and heard the pastor begin to pray as he and Goff quietly shut the front door behind them.

  The two men didn’t speak until Evan had backed out of the driveway, then Goff looked over at Evan. “What’d you learn from the wife?”

  “They’ve only been here since Thanksgiving. Bellamy worked for Seminole Insurance, got a transfer here. Karen said he’d settled in nicely, no problems. She doesn’t think they’ve been in town long enough to make any enemies.”

  “Maybe the enemies followed from their previous town,” Goff mused. “Or it was mistaken identity.”

  “Maybe. He runs regularly, same route all the time. Two evenings a week that change, but every Saturday morning about the same time.”

  “Huh.”

  “Off the bat, he doesn’t sound like a target for anger, but it sure looks like someone targeted him, specifically,” Evan said.

  “If so,” Goff said, “he made an easy target. That bridge is a perfect funnel point, and those trees would make a pretty good blind.”

  “Yeah,” Evan answered. They got to a stop sign and he rolled down his window, lit a much-needed cigarette.

  “Sometimes I wish I smoked,” Goff said quietly to the windshield.

  “Sometimes I’m glad I do,” Evan replied.

  FIVE

  IT ONLY TOOK A FEW minutes to get back to the crime scene, but when Evan turned onto Forest Park Avenue, it had already become congested with news vans and the cars belonging to print reporters. Rather than parking on either side of the street, half the news vans were blocking the road just outside the barricade formed by two PD cruisers.

  Evan sighed and put the Pilot in park.

  “Pretty easy to pick ’em off from here,” Goff said.

  “No, I’ll go talk to them, then see if I can keep them out of our hair,” Evan said, opening his door.

  Evan’s black Pilot didn’t exactly stand out in the area, and he wasn’t exactly dressed for work, either, so he was halfway to the cluster of reporters and cameramen before they started noticing him. Then they all rushed him at once, shouting out questions and pointing huge microphones his way. Evan held up his hands and looked each reporter in the eye until they’d all shut up.

  “I’m not going to be answering any questions today, but—”

  “But what can you tell us about the body in the park?” a blonde woman asked.

  Evan stared at her. “That’s a question. I will make a brief—very brief—statement, for now,” he said. “The body of a male was found in the park early this morning. Cause of death has not yet been determined. The family has been notified, but we will not be releasing the man’s name at this time.”

  “Can you at least tell us if this was a homicide?” a man with an unfortunate goa
tee asked.

  “No. We’re still processing the scene, and this investigation is only a few hours old,” Evan said. “Once we have more useful information for you, we’ll make another statement.”

  A red-haired woman took a step forward, poking a mic and a disdainful look in Evan’s direction. He recognized her from one of the 5:30 broadcasts out of Panama City.

  “Acting Sheriff Caldwell, you have a responsibility to the people of Gulf County and Port St. Joe,” she said.

  “This man and his family are the people of Gulf County and Port St. Joe,” Evan answered. “You’re from Bay County, aren’t you?” Evan looked past her to the rest of the reporters, letting her know their repartee was done. “I’ll let you know more as soon as I’m able, but I won’t know more until I can get back to my job, so I’d appreciate it very much if those of you blocking the street would kindly move your vehicles. That’s all for now.”

  A few people shot out questions or complaints, but Evan turned around and walked back to his SUV. He and Goff waited in silence until there was room for Evan to pull through. One of the patrolmen inched his cruiser out of the way, allowing Evan to pull back into the spot he’d left less than an hour earlier.

  When he and Goff walked back to the crime scene, they found Crenshaw picking up evidence markers and Trigg cross-checking them with a list on her clipboard. She nodded at Evan and Goff as they went by, on their way back to the embankment.

  Danny was crouched down next to the body of Jake Bellamy, but he looked to be packing up his things.

  “What can you tell me, Danny?” Evan asked as he and Goff made their way to him.

  “Oh, hey, Sheriff,” Evan said brightly. “Yeah, so livor mortis had started already when I got here, most notably in the torso, feet, and hands, but the blood wasn’t fixed yet. Once we turned him onto his back the blood moved to his back and buttocks. So, as you probably already know, he was on his stomach at time of death or immediately after.”

  “Okay,” Evan said.“Based on liver temp compared to ambient temp, and the fact that rigor mortis is just now becoming evident in the eyelids, jaw, and neck, I’m tentatively calling TOD at somewhere between 6:30 and 7:00 am. Anyhoo,” he said, rubbing his hands in either relish or a need to warm up, “Your cause of death is exsanguination due to multiple punctures to the upper right quadrant. I won’t know how many perforations there are until I get him back home and tidied up a little because you have several overlapping wounds. Of course, I’ll have a clearer picture once I’ve had a look-see inside, but I’m thinking there are at least five or six punctures that would have killed him.”