Meredith Potts Fourteen Book Cozy Mystery Set

by Meredith Potts

  “This is the suspicious car all right,” Deputy Tolliver replied.

  It looked like the kind of car a pizza delivery driver would own. The sedan was at least ten years old, was not flashy by any stretch of the imagination, and had a golf-ball-sized dent on the passenger side door.

  “Do you know whose car this is?” Steven wondered.

  “The documents in the glove compartment indicate that it is registered to Todd Lewis.”

  “Should I assume that Todd is our suspect?”

  Deputy Tolliver shook his head. “I checked the database. Mr. Lewis reported the car stolen two weeks ago in Madison.”

  “Madison?”

  Tolliver nodded.

  The state capital was seventy-five miles away. That fact was not lost on Steven as he replied, “Looks like this car has been on a road trip.”

  “Apparently so,” Deputy Tolliver replied.

  “In that case, the forensics team should be able to pull some fingerprints from the vehicle,” Steven speculated.

  “They are working on that,” Tolliver said.

  Theoretically, there could be three sets of prints in that car—Todd Lewis’s, of course. But also possibly Amy’s prints. Not to mention, whoever attacked her in the woods.

  Steven continued, “Did you find anything interesting in the car?”

  Tolliver shook his head. “Unfortunately not. The vehicle was pretty cleaned out. It looked like whoever was driving it planned on abandoning it from the get-go.”

  Steven groaned. “Well, keep looking. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  Chapter Ten

  It could take the forensics team a while to finish their work up at the forest. Steven and I didn’t have time to wait around and see if the team would be able to pull fingerprints from the scene. We were needed at the hospital. That’s exactly where we headed.

  As was becoming all too common with this case, Steven and I found ourselves shuttling from one stressful situation to the next with no reprieve. I would have preferred to take some time to catch my breath, but with Larry Donnelly on his way to Cedar Falls, spare time was a luxury I didn’t have right then.

  It was important to direct my focus back to Amy. Her brain held the key to making sense of all of this. If she got her memory back, she could easily answer all of our questions and more. While I didn’t know what the exact chances were of her getting her memory back, the doctor had told us that putting her under severe stress wouldn’t help her condition.

  That was why I approached this upcoming meeting with her husband with great caution. On one hand, seeing him might trigger some of Amy’s memories. On the other hand, if Steven was right about Larry hiding something, perhaps those would not be good memories.

  Unfortunately, it was a chance we had to take. I had run out of leads. That being said, if I was going to place Amy in the emotional pressure cooker of coming face to face with her husband again, I would be doing her a disservice if I didn’t prepare her for what was potentially to come.

  To me, that meant giving her a reasonable amount of time to process the news that she was married. Her mind was fragile enough. Anything I could do to keep from throwing her over the edge was worth doing.

  The real problem was figuring out how to broach the subject. There was no easy way to reveal to Amy that she was married. To make matters worse, I had to do it alone.

  Just as Steven and I entered Amy’s hospital room to tell her what we had discovered, Steven got an urgent phone call. He excused himself from the room to take the call, leaving me to shoulder the responsibility of breaking the news to her.

  As expected, Amy responded to the news with complete shock.

  “So wait, you’re telling me I’m married?” Amy asked.

  I slowly nodded as I waited for her to pick her jaw up from the ground. That didn’t happen. Instead, she continued staring at me with her eyes as wide as ever.

  “To who?” she wondered.

  I gave her all the details I had. “His name is Larry Donnelly. He’s an insurance salesman from Kenosha.”

  Amy’s face was blank. “None of that means anything to me.”

  “Maybe that will change when he gets here,” I replied.

  Her body tensed up. “Wait. He’s coming here?”

  I nodded again. “He’ll be here in less than an hour.”

  She got an anxious look on her face and began breathing heavily.

  I knew she was nervous, just as I would have been if I were in her place. I took her hand in hopes that it would calm her down. “Don’t worry. I’m right here with you. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

  She looked at me like a scared child. “Promise?”

  I nodded. “Besides, maybe seeing your husband again will trigger some old memories.”

  Amy bit her lip. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  Just as I was making progress in calming Amy down, Steven re-entered the room with a disturbing look on his face.

  He directed his attention at me. “Can I talk to you outside for a moment?”

  All I had to do was look at his uneasy expression to know that more bad news awaited. Surprisingly, I wasn’t the only one who could tell that trouble was afoot.

  Even though Amy had no memory, her powers of observation were sharp enough to know that something was wrong.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Steven tried to keep her from getting too worked up. “Don’t worry about it.”

  His response did little to comfort her.

  “That’s kind of hard when I see that troubled look on your face,” Amy replied.

  Steven did his best to assuage her fears. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

  Amy pressed him again. “Yeah, but what?”

  After failing miserably at calming Amy down, Steven turned his attention to me again.

  “Melanie, I have to talk to you—now.”

  “Right,” I replied.

  I then told Amy I would return shortly, but she was still spooked out. As I walked into the hallway, Amy sat in bed looking as tense as ever.

  Chapter Eleven

  As I joined Steven in the hallway and closed the door to Amy’s room so she couldn’t hear what we were saying, Steven dropped any pretense that things were all right. The full extent of his dismay became clear as I peered into his eyes.

  “You look awful,” I said.

  I had not meant to be so blunt, but the words had just spilled out of my mouth when I saw the troubled look on his face.

  Surprisingly, he didn’t take offense to my comment. As he replied, he ended up reinforcing my opinion.

  “I feel worse,” Steven said.

  I rattled off a flurry of questions without stopping to filter my thoughts. “What happened? Who was that call from? What did they say?”

  Even though my questions had been very specific, Steven’s answer was frustratingly vague. I imagined that was because he was still working through his shock.

  “You’re not going to believe what I just heard,” he said.

  I put my hands on my hips and made my skepticism known. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. After all that has happened, I don’t know that anything can surprise me.”

  He didn’t change his stance. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

  The last shred of my patience slipped away. Remaining in the dark didn’t work for me. I had to know what was going on. “Steven, enough messing around. Who was the call from?”

  Steven finally came clean. “The crime lab.”

  “And what did they have to say?”

  “They got the results back on the bloodstain that was on Amy’s sweater.”

  “Was it Amy’s blood on the sweater?”

  “Some of it,” Steven said.

  “Only some of it? Was someone else’s blood on that sweater, too?”

  He nodded. “Uh-huh. Not to mention a fingerprint.”

  Just when I thought we were making some progress, he gave me a two-syllable answer. I couldn’t figure
out why he was holding back so much. Our conversations weren’t usually this stilted. This was reminiscent of the kind of tough slog I usually went through when questioning a murder suspect. I couldn’t remember ever having a discussion with Steven where I felt like I was pulling teeth. The odd part was, I still had no idea why he was so spooked.

  “Whose fingerprint?” I asked.

  “You’re not going to believe this, but that sweater had a dead man’s fingerprint on it,” Steven revealed.

  I wrinkled my nose with confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “The lab was able to make a conclusive match on that print. It belongs to Patrick Boswell, a financial advisor from Kenosha.”

  My eyes widened. “What a coincidence that this supposed dead man was from Kenosha.”

  Steven raised his eyebrows. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say that isn’t a coincidence.”

  He was a master of the deadpan response. That time, he decided to coat his reply in a thick layer of sarcasm as well.

  “I’ll bet it isn’t. Now, what’s this part about Patrick being dead?” I asked.

  “This is where things get crazy.”

  I had to stop him right there. The sheer ridiculousness of his statement could not be ignored. I didn’t hesitate to bring some perspective to the situation.

  “Get crazy? We are already way beyond that,” I said.

  He chuckled. “I guess you’re right. Brace yourself, things are going to get even wilder.”

  I prepared myself for the news. Well, as much as anyone could when threatened with a jaw-dropping revelation.

  Steven filled me in on the details. “A week before Amy Donnelly supposedly drowned, Patrick Boswell took a camping trip to the Kettle Moraine State Forest.”

  I was clearly missing part of the story, because it did not add up in my mind. “Okay. So what’s the big deal?”

  “He went camping alone.”

  I scrunched my nose. “Who does that?”

  Steven wasn’t done yet. There was more. “It gets better. Two days later, some local hikers stumbled upon his campsite. His tent and supplies were there, but there was no sign of Patrick anywhere. The local authorities searched for Patrick for weeks, finding his car parked at the edge of the woods, but they never found Patrick. Finally, two weeks after he went missing, assuming he was dead, authorities called off the search.”

  Hearing that only succeeded in making me more suspicious. New questions began piling up in my mind.

  “That’s very curious, considering when we found Amy two days ago, the bloodstain on her sweater was fresh. How did Patrick’s blood get on her sweater if he died a year and a half ago?”

  “Exactly,” Steven said.

  It was becoming an all-too-common refrain, but every time I got a few answers, they only seemed to lead to new questions. Not only was it tiresome, it was practically maddening.

  “Who knew we’d come across so many dead people who aren’t actually dead?” I replied

  “I have been thinking the same thing,” Steven said.

  “So, what do we do now?” I asked.

  “I’m having my deputy send over a picture of Patrick Boswell. From there, I’m putting out an all-points bulletin for him. I know he’s out there somewhere. Even more, I have a feeling that finding him could be the key to figuring out what really happened in that forest.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Steven wanted to be the one to break the news to Amy. I didn’t blame him. He was the professional, after all. At the same time, he was intimidating. While that was a benefit when interrogating suspects, it did not provide comfort to people who were emotionally fragile.

  That’s why I urged Steven to let me talk to Amy alone. I wanted her to be as calm as possible when I talked to her about Patrick. There was no way that would happen if Steven was in the room with her.

  Thankfully, after a little persuading, Steven let me go into Amy’s room alone to reveal what we had just discovered.

  Amy looked antsy as she sat in bed. “What was that about?”

  I took a seat in the chair beside her bed and peered into her eyes. “There’s been a new development in your case.”

  A mix of excitement and anxiety came to her face. “A good development, or a bad one?”

  She had asked me a simple question, but the answer was increasingly complicated, to the point where I found myself giving her an opaque reply.

  “That depends,” I said.

  There was no hesitation in her voice as she asked me an immediate follow-up question. “On what?”

  Much to my surprise, our roles had been reversed. With case after case, I had tried to wring out information from murder suspects and suspicious characters. As Amy turned the tables on me, I suddenly knew what it felt like to have the heat turned up on me. I didn’t like being pressured like that.

  I made sure not to show my discomfort as I answered, “On whether this news makes any sense to you.”

  “Try me,” she replied.

  “Does the name Patrick Boswell ring any bells?” I asked.

  Amy searched her mind but came up completely blank. “No.”

  That was hardly the first time I had heard “no” since this investigation began. As a matter of fact, I was beginning to wonder when I would ever hear “yes” again. Amy had given me no reason to believe this time would be any different, yet because I had grown even more desperate than I had realized, I had prayed that she would finally give me something to work with. What a time to be gravely mistaken. As I neared the end of my rope, Amy could see the discouragement on my face.

  “Why? What connection does this Patrick guy have to me?” she asked.

  Before I got into that, I tried jogging Amy’s memory again, only this time with a picture rather than just a name. Prior to entering the hospital room, the police department had faxed over a photo of Patrick that they had pulled from the Internet.

  I held that photo up for Amy to look at.

  “So you don’t recognize this man at all, then?” I asked.

  Amy peered at the picture intensely then shook her head side to side.

  “No. I don’t recognize him. Should I?”

  “You definitely should.”

  Amy grimaced. “Why?”

  “Because his blood and fingerprints were found on your sweater.”

  Her eyes widened as she leaned back against her pillow. A flurry of thoughts raced through her mind. She let each one go straight from her head to her mouth without any filter. “Did he attack me?”

  “That’s what I was trying to find out,” I replied.

  Amy let her next unfiltered thought slip off of her tongue. “How else could his blood and fingerprints get on my sweater?” She paused. “Unless I attacked him.” She took a deep breath to try and compose herself. “Oh, dear. Either way, this is crazy.”

  If that news hadn’t made her shocked enough, the next thing I had to say to her could throw her for a loop even more. I decided to tread lightly to not overwhelm her. “I’m afraid that’s not all.”

  Amy’s face looked more concerned than ever. “What are you talking about? What else did you find out?”

  “Apparently, this Patrick Boswell guy went missing shortly before you did and was later declared dead.”

  Amy’s memory was as spotty as ever, but her instincts were as sharp as knives. “If he was declared dead, then how did his fingerprints get on my sweater?”

  “I was hoping you could answer that,” I said.

  Much to my chagrin, she shrugged her shoulders. “It beats me.”

  I tried to remain composed but failed miserably. In a fit of frustration, I let out a sigh.

  Amy gave me a defeated look. “I wish I had answers for you. Unfortunately, right now I have nothing but questions.”

  I shot a knowing look her way. “Welcome to the club.”

  “I’m sorry,” she replied.

  I knew she was frustrated at herself for not being able to remember anything,
but I couldn’t afford to let her get too down in the dumps.

  I slapped a comforting smile on my face and stared into her eyes. “Rest up. Your husband will be here soon.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Steven and I knew that Amy had no control over her memory and that she was trying her hardest to recall the events that had led her here. Unfortunately, none of those insights kept us from growing increasingly irritated with the fact that we seemed to keep running into a brick wall just as we began to make some progress. I felt like we kept taking one step forward only to later take a step back.

  It was time to make a giant leap with this case and not look back. Perhaps Larry was the key to that. At the least, he would be able to shed some light on the situation. Now, whether he was willing to open up to us, was a different story. Larry’s evasiveness on the phone made me worry that his presence could make the water a little murkier. The problem was, Steven and I had run out of leads, so taking our chances with Larry was a necessary risk.

  Despite the growing frustration inside me that was threatening to boil over, all hope was not lost. On the flip side, I felt like Steven and I were on the cusp of breaking this case wide open. We were just missing one crucial piece to make sense of it all. I knew we just needed a little time and a healthy dose of luck to get over that final hump.

  Given that, I didn’t have time to get down on myself. I had to stay focused. That was especially true when I got word that Larry had finally arrived at the hospital.

  Finally, the moment I had been waiting for was here. This had the potential to be a game-changing reunion for Larry and Amy.

  The hospital’s security staff made everyone check in and get a nametag sticker when entering the hospital. That made Larry easy to identify as he walked down the hallway towards Amy’s room. Larry was a muscular thirty-nine-year-old man with a thick mustache and short, neatly combed brown hair. He wore a pair a brown khaki pants and a black wool coat.