by Beth Urich
“We’ve addressed all your questions,” Hawthorne said, pushing away from the table and motioning for Allen to follow suit.
TOM RETURNED TO HIS office thirty minutes later when he, Sid, and Lieutenant Palmer determined they had only one course of action—to wait until something broke in the case. On his way in, the department secretary handed him an urgent message from Kate.
“I’d return it soon, if I were you. That was her sixth try to get you.”
“Did you explain that I was in meetings?”
“All six times. And she understood completely.”
“Right.”
He tried her car phone and office first, then her house, and finally found her in the motel office with her dad. When she came to the phone, he skipped the amenities. “For the record, you are not too easy to get in touch with either.”
“Where have you been?” Kate asked.
“I’m a cop, remember? I’ve been doing cop things, having cop meetings.”
“I have important information for you.”
“Can’t it wait? We’re having dinner this evening.” As soon as the words came out, Tom regretted them and his tone. The silence on the other end of the line told him his girlfriend wasn’t too pleased either. He said, “I’m sorry. Bad day.”
After a beat or two, Kate said, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry too. And you’re right it can wait. But since we’re talking now, can I tell you?”
He shook his head, but said, “What did you find out?”
“Please don’t say anything until I finish. Promise?”
“Katie, you know how I hate when you say things like that.”
“Promise?”
“I’ll give it my best.”
“I saw Bryan Porter today. He followed me to Etta’s. I can fill you in later. The most important thing is that Bryan knows the skeleton is his father.”
Kate paused, which Tom took as the cue to respond.
“Over the course of our investigation we’ve talked to Bryan a couple of times. He may or may not know we tested his cousin’s DNA. But he’s a smart man. I wouldn’t be surprised that he put everything together and came to a logical conclusion. I might add that a certain reporter made the same inference.”
The department secretary dropped a piece of paper directly in front of Tom. “Urgent” was circled at the top and “Boone County Arkansas Sheriff line 3” was underlined three times.
Kate said, “Did you hear me? That’s not all Bryan said.”
“I have another call.”
He punched line three before realizing he had forgotten to put Kate on hold. He cringed and shook his head, knowing he’d pay later and may never know what Bryan said.
“Lenny, what’s up?” Tom asked.
Lenny Harper had been Sheriff of Boone County Arkansas for over fifteen years. When Tom was in his teens the lawman, Roger Starling, and Tom were hunting buddies every November. The Branson detective had coordinated with the Sheriff on a couple cases since returning to the area. He hoped Lenny had good news, because the day could not get much worse.
“Got that notice on your Brad Fortner,” Lenny said.
“Have you seen him down your way?”
“Turns out we have. We got a call late last night from his ex-wife. Sorry to tell you, the man is dead. Shot twice. We finished at the crime scene about thirty minutes ago. I didn’t see your locate request until I got back to the office.”
“I was hoping for better news,” Tom said.
“Sorry, buddy. You’re welcome to come down and see what we took from the scene. Or I could send you my report when I complete it.”
“Sid and I will be down in a couple of hours.”
BY THE TIME THE DETECTIVES spoke to Lieutenant Palmer about Lenny’s news, made a few calls, and drove to the Boone County Sheriff’s Office, it was almost six-thirty. The sheriff briefed the two men and showed them the crime scene photos. Fortner had been shot twice in the back—once in the torso and once in the neck.
“Maybe I’m missing something. Doesn’t Sharon Fortner live in Harrison with her mother?” Tom asked.
“Correct. I haven’t been able to talk to her yet. According to the dispatcher, she was pretty upset when she called. She met the first responders at the location but left before I arrived. Told the deputy she’d be at her mother’s if we needed to speak to her. By the way, the house where he was found belongs to her family.”
“Do you have a time of death?” Sid asked.
“Best guess, based on the condition of the body and the blood pool, is sometime Tuesday, maybe Wednesday. We’re talking to neighbors and local businesses to see when he might have been spotted. Unfortunately, the nearest neighbor is about a thousand feet.”
“Maybe Sharon can help,” Sid said.
“Possibly. I’d say she or her mother gave him permission to stay at the location.”
“We’d like to go with you when you interview her,” Tom said.
“Figured as much,” Lenny said. “But she asked that I wait until tomorrow. You can either come back first thing in the morning or stay at a local motel.”
Sid shrugged and Tom said, “We’ll be at that little motel down the road.”
Lenny said, “One of Harrison’s finest.”
“Give us a call if anything comes up. Otherwise, we’ll see you at eight.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
When her dad slammed the screen door, Kate jerked around, setting the glider in motion. She slid her feet down and planted them firmly on the porch, sloshing her coffee on her robe.
“A little tense this morning, are we?” Roger asked.
She frowned and scooted over so he could join her.
He put his cup on the railing and made himself comfortable on the now stable bench. “How long have you been out here?”
“A while. I couldn’t sleep.”
“This has something to do with Detective Collingwood going to Harrison, Arkansas, at the last minute, cancelling your dinner plans, and spoiling your evening.”
“I need to talk to him about our case.”
“Our case?”
“Okay, his case. But I have important information for him.”
“Let me try to catch up,” Roger said, reaching for his coffee. “The plan was to turn over everything to Tom. You promised to sit back and wait for him to finish his job, at which time, you’d be given an exclusive to the outcome.”
“Yes, that’s true. But I had to modify the plan.”
“Ah. Do you want to put me out of my misery or shall I try to guess what you did during the plan modification activity?”
“For a parent who is usually supportive, you can be extremely sarcastic at times.”
“Don’t forget I shared those genes with you.”
“I went to Etta’s yesterday. You could say I started having my doubts about her forth-rightness.” Kate moved to the railing so she could check her dad’s reaction. His furrowed brow said as much as his lack of comment.
“Anyway, I was trying to clarify some things, I wasn’t investigating anything.”
“Clearing up your confusion, so to speak.”
“Exactly. My confusion about the partnership and Lex and what Etta knew. When we’d discussed Lex leaving the business before, she had said he wanted to open his own store. When I asked why he left Branson, she repeated what Bryan told her.”
“What is confusing about that?” Roger asked, his tone approaching defensive.
“Jack, Etta, and Lex had been friends for a long time. They had been in business together, one way or another, for years. All of this Etta told me during our interviews. She had to know more about Lex’s motives.”
“I guess I’m not seeing why this matters.”
“I wanted to see her reaction to the questions so I pressed a little bit. She was in the process of throwing me out when Bryan Porter showed up. It doesn’t matter why. But based on their conversation and what he said to me later, I’m convinced Etta knew Ja
ck fired Lex, apparently for something unforgivable.”
Roger came off the glider and walked to the screen door.
Kate said, “Don’t you want to know the rest?”
He opened the door, then let it slam shut as he took a couple steps toward his daughter. “Katie, I can see you’re trying to put all the pieces together. That’s in your nature. But I’m not sure you have all the facts. What you see as suspicious behavior can be explained. Etta’s in her eighties. She has one friend she trusts and protects,” Roger said, holding up his index finger to emphasize his point, and then added, “Jack Brighton.”
As her father turned and retreated through the screen door, Kate weighed his words but her doubts about Etta’s honesty remained.
CASSIE HANDED KATE her messages, none of which were from Tom. The reporter walked past the counter and was surprised to see Ellen at the reception desk filling out some paperwork.
“I didn’t know interns could have interns,” Kate said, smiling at Cassie.
The young girl laughed nervously.
Ellen said, “I’m filling out a job application, Miss Starling.”
“You lost your job? I’m sorry,” Kate said, making a mental note. No inside contact at Fortune Enterprises.
“I didn’t lose my job, at least I don’t think I did. But I may be quitting. Sometimes it can be a little stressful.”
Kate stared at the young woman for a moment wondering how a job where you did virtually nothing all day could be stressful. “Good luck with your job search, Ellen,” she said heading toward her cubicle.
Cassie said, “Kate, do you have a minute? You may be interested in the strange activity at Ellen’s office today.”
“It’s no big deal,” Ellen said. “Not a lot different than other days.”
“I’m not following you,” Kate said, her impatience building.
“Well, the arguing and yelling are not new. But this is the first time I’ve been told to connect the phone to the answering service and leave immediately. Even Mr. Brighton’s assistant went home early.”
“No one’s in the suite?” Kate said.
“Just Jack and Randy Brighton and that lawyer who visits all the time,” Ellen said.
“Keith Hawthorne,” Kate whispered, her mind racing.
Ellen nodded and handed Cassie the application. “I told you it was no big deal. Probably needed to discuss something without interruptions.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Kate said, forming a plan in her mind.
KATE TIPTOED UP THE stairs. The hallway light seemed dimmer, like it was in “night mode.” She eyed the plaque on the entrance and took a deep breath. Not expecting the door to be unlocked, she was grateful, if a bit stunned, when it opened. A single spotlight above Ellen’s desk illumined the empty reception area. She tapped lightly on the door to Allen’s suite and opened it slowly. No lights at all in the area normally occupied by his secretary. A nightlight glowed close to the floor in the short hall leading to his office. She knocked and waited, then peeked inside.
Empty and dark.
Kate returned to the reception area, crossed through the conference room, and paused in the anteroom normally occupied by the company’s executive assistant. The hallways leading to Jack’s office straight ahead and Randy’s office to the right were also illumined close to the floor. Voices were coming from the younger Brighton’s office. She moved closer to the door but stayed in the shadows of the short hallway.
“Everything ... everything ... will come out,” Randy said, his tone now louder and more dramatic, but she couldn’t distinguish the response. She moved again, straining to hear the conversation. Without warning the lights in the executive assistant’s area came on, reaching a foot or so into the hallway. She held her breath and slipped into the darkness.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
A thick morning fog covered the gorge behind the motel next door as Tom and Sid emerged from the diner after breakfast. The air was cool and damp following last night’s brief rain. Tom popped the trunk to retrieve their jackets. The detectives were settling into the front seat when the Sheriff drove up and suggested they go to the widow’s residence in his car.
Sharon Fortner’s house was about six miles from the motel in an older part of Harrison. Lenny parked in the drive behind an old blue mini-van. A young woman appeared on the porch as soon as the men exited the vehicle. They followed her into a small living room.
Lenny removed his hat. “We’re sorry for your loss, Mrs. Fortner. If possible, we’d like to ask a few questions to help us with our investigation.”
Tears welled in her red eyes as she eased into the chair next to the sofa and placed another used tissue on the pile next to the lamp on the end table.
“This is Detective Tom Collinwood and his partner Detective Sid Green with the Branson Police Department. They were trying to locate Mr. Fortner for an ongoing case.”
“I didn’t believe him at first,” she said. “I hadn’t seen Brad in almost a year when he showed up asking for help. I told him to go away,” she said, tears starting down her cheeks.
Tom asked, “When was that?”
“A couple weeks ago.”
“Did he say why he needed help?” Lenny asked.
“Something about important people trying to find him and it would be better if they didn’t. I told him I wanted no part of any trouble he was in.” She paused, blotting away the tears with a fresh tissue. “He said he didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“So, you let him stay here?”
“No. He said they’d know where I lived. That house where I ...” Sharon leaned forward, burying her face in her hands, and started to sob.
Tom reached across the table and slid the tissue box toward the distraught woman.
Lenny said, “We understand it’s family-owned.”
She took a deep breath, regaining her composure. “My parents tried to sell it for years, long before my father died.”
“Is it still on the market?” Sid asked.
“I’m not sure. The listing broker died last year. Anyway, Brad knew about the house.”
“And you gave him permission to stay there.”
“He said it would be a few weeks, no more than a month. I offered to have the electricity turned on, but he said that wouldn’t be necessary.”
Tom asked, “Did you talk to him after that?”
“About four days later I drove up to make sure everything was okay. He warned me not to come back. He was afraid someone could follow me and find him. This is all my fault.”
Sid asked, “Were you followed?”
“You don’t understand. I was unhappy in our marriage. When I left Brad, I wanted to celebrate, but I wanted to make him as miserable as I was. I took a trip to New Orleans, first class all the way. New wardrobe, good hotel, good food. When both of our credit cards were maxed out, I came home and moved in with my mother.”
“Did Brad contact you about the credit cards?” Sid asked.
“We didn’t talk, not from the time I left him until the time he showed up asking me for help. Like I said, I told him I wanted no part of it. He said I was the reason he was in the mess in the first place. I was the reason he needed the extra money to pay off those cards.”
Tom said, “Mrs. Fortner, Brad made a few bad choices. You didn’t put him in the mess. He did.”
She started sobbing again.
Tom said, “Can I ask what caused you to go up there Thursday night?”
“Brad called me every few days after my first visit to let me know he was still okay. But I hadn’t heard from him for a while. I was worried. I waited another day, then drove to the house.”
“Did you see anyone near the property?”
“I saw a few trucks on the highway, nothing on the road that goes by the house.”
“What about Brad’s truck?”
“I didn’t see it. I figured he parked it out of sight down the road like on that first night.”
“
So, you went in the house,” Lenny coaxed.
The tears started again, but she quickly wiped them away. “I called his name as I went through the hall, but he didn’t answer. It took my eyes a couple moments to adjust to the darkness in the kitchen. That’s when I saw him.”
LENNY TOOK TOM AND Sid back to the diner to pick up their car and they followed him north to the crime scene, located about halfway to Branson. The Sheriff made a left turn on a dirt road and parked on the far-side of the road from a picket fence that had seen happier times. The yard had been mowed, but not recently. Although the house itself was in disrepair, it seemed—at least from a distance—to be structurally solid. The crime scene tape encompassed the yard and drive.
“Have you located Brad’s truck?” Sid asked as they followed Lenny into the house.
“Nowhere around here. We have an all-points out on it and we’re continuing our search in this area. Nothing so far.”
“How did they find him?” Sid asked.
“We’re questioning the local businesses to see if anyone saw Fortner or if anyone was asking about him.”
The dried pool of blood and the chalk outline of the body in front of the kitchen sink were the only suggestions of a crime. Everything else in the house seemed to be in place, with the exception of the sheet and pillow on the living room sofa.
Tom said, “I bet he didn’t even know what hit him.”
“Crossed my mind he didn’t see his killer,” Lenny said. “No conversation. No threats. Bang-bang, you’re dead.”
Tom let that vision hang in his mind for a second or two, and then asked Lenny, “What’s out back?”
“Mostly trees. We’ve searched it but found nothing interesting,” the Sheriff said.
“I’ll meet you by the car,” Tom said, nodding toward Sid. He paused on the rickety back deck and then walked down the stairs. He needed some fresh air, but there was none to be found.
