“Stay here, okay?” she said, trying not to let her voice tremble. “Okay?”
He finally looked at her and slowly nodded.
It pained Katie to see her uncle in this condition and so many horrible things ran through her mind. She needed to see if Claire was okay, but the blood on her uncle’s shirt made her waver as she pushed various images from the battlefield out of her mind. There was no doubt something terrible had happened here last night, and she needed to know what, despite the imaginary fumes of expelled ammunition, dust, and inexplicable heat that suddenly slammed her senses.
No… not now… not again.
She swallowed hard and fought the dizziness. Her throat dry. Her hands sweaty. And her legs felt strangely rubbery, with every step making the floor feel uneven.
No… she willed.
She made it to the corner at the end of the hallway. It was dark still, the dull, cold light of the overcast morning barely making it through the skylights. She ran her hand along the wall looking for the light switch, fumbling around until she flipped the lever upward and a low wattage bulb lit up the hallway.
There were three bedrooms in the house, two of them ahead of her, one was a spare bedroom and the other doubled as her uncle’s office. Both of those doors were open and Katie could see clearly into them. Vacant. She peered through the hallway bathroom and it was empty as well.
The lights above her flickered, stopping her in her tracks. “Aunt Claire?” she said. “Hello?”
Katie hurried around the corner and stopped, staring in disbelief. There was blood smeared on the outside of the master bedroom door. Red handprints sliding down towards the floor. Katie’s heart pounded in her chest. She realized that she hadn’t taken a breath in a while—causing her vision to darken as if she was going to pass out.
“Claire,” she managed to say between a few deep breaths.
Squeezing her eyes shut and leaning against the wall, she tried to push away the memories of war that assailed her. She willed herself to steady her breathing and planted her feet to wait out the panic for a moment.
When she was ready, Katie reopened her eyes, blinking a few times to focus her view on the bloody smear in front of her. She carefully moved forward, mindful not to touch anything that might later become evidence. Even under such stress, she was still programed to follow protocol.
She slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open. The king-sized bed wasn’t made, but the sheet and comforter had been casually flipped back as if her aunt and uncle had just awakened and got out of bed.
“Aunt Claire?” she said again into the silence.
Turning back, she made her way further down the long hallway to the last remaining room, the large laundry room at the end of the hall. The door was open but the light was off. Just before she reached the doorway, she looked down to see a pair of small, bloody footprints in the carpet, barely visible in the low light.
No… Aunt Claire… please no…
Katie’s feet were glued to the floor, but she knew she had to see what was in the room. Leaning in, she flipped the switch and froze as the bright light illuminated the room—unable to move—unable to breathe. Katie sank to the floor managing only a strangled, agonized cry.
Why…?
Lying on the floor, against the dryer, amongst the freshly pressed laundry and tubs of colorful detergent, lay the lifeless body of her aunt. Her pale yellow nightgown was soaked in blood. Three long gashes down each side of her torso. Blood had splashed everywhere. Katie looked in the sink and froze at the sight of the murder weapon, wet with crimson blood.
Fighting for her sanity against her anxiety and insurmountable grief, Katie tried with all of her strength to try and piece together what could have happened to this kind, caring woman. With a jolt, she realized her beautiful Aunt Claire was still wearing her anniversary necklace.
“I didn’t do it…” came a strained whisper from behind her. “I would never…”
Her uncle’s voice startled her. She turned quickly and saw him standing there with his eyes glued to his wife’s lifeless body.
“I… swear… I didn’t do it…”
“Uncle Wayne, please,” Katie said.
“She… was… like this when…”
“Please,” she said and guided her uncle out of the room and carefully down the hallway. “I know what I saw.” She finally turned to face him and said, “Why is one of your Spanish fighting knives in the sink?”
Eleven
Sunday 0950 hours
Sheriff Scott’s house was blocked off with every emergency vehicle that Pine Valley had at its disposal. After the 911 call from Katie hit the airways, the news media mobile units were dispatched as well. They were being held back with curious neighbors until the investigation was completed. There would be a news conference later that afternoon.
The emergency personnel hurried about their duties along with several extra patrol vehicles that were eager to get first-hand news of what had happened.
As Claire’s body was removed by gurney and slid into the morgue van, every face working the area was solemn and those who knew her personally broke down in tears.
Detective Bryan Hamilton was assigned to the homicide. It wasn’t the type of murder case that any detective wanted at the department, but they assigned him only because he had the most experience.
Katie sat with her uncle who was inconsolable at the sight of the dark body bag containing his wife of ten years. Katie had cried so much that her face felt strangely tight. She was numb—emotionally and physically. She had been through difficult times in her lifetime and on the battlefield, but this was something more than the death of a loved one; her aunt had been murdered in cold blood.
Detective Hamilton entered the living room and spoke to a few of the officers securing the scene, giving John from forensics some instructions that Katie couldn’t quite hear. She’d worked with Hamilton on the Amanda Payton case and it was no secret he had strong feelings about her being the sheriff’s niece, but as they locked eyes across the room she felt his sincere condolence, wordlessly passed from one cop to another. She’d never noticed the kindness in his eyes before, or the slight greying through his dark hair, and it was clear that he took care of himself at the gym. She was slightly surprised that he was assigned this case, but it did make her feel better that he was new to the sheriff’s office and would hopefully be unbiased during the investigation.
“Sheriff, I’d like to ask you a few questions here if that’s alright. Are you up for it?” he asked and then turned to Katie. “Does he need any medical treatment?”
“No, that’s not his blood,” Katie barely managed to say.
“Sir, can you tell me what happened?”
Without looking at the detective, the sheriff spoke of the events in a monotone voice. “I didn’t feel very well last night.”
“Can you tell me what happened this morning?” the detective gently pushed.
“I felt strange when I went to bed, could barely keep my eyes open. It was like I had taken a sedative.”
Katie wanted to interrupt but remained quiet.
“So you’re saying that you’d had too much to drink?”
“No,” he said. “Didn’t feel well during the party.” His voice was strangely even and droning.
“Party?” he asked, looking at Katie.
“It was my aunt and uncle’s ten-year anniversary party last night,” she answered.
“What do you remember next?”
“Claire told me to go to bed and that she would be along soon.”
“What time was this?”
“About 12.30 a.m.”
“What happened next?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
“What do you remember? When did you find your wife?” The detective took notes.
“I woke up some time later, groggy. I had fallen asleep in my clothes, so I got up and changed. The clock read 4.57 a.m.”
“Was your wife beside you?”<
br />
“No.”
“What did you do next?”
“I washed my face. Got a drink of water.”
The detective patiently waited.
“I saw that Claire hadn’t come to bed, so I called her name.”
“Did she answer?”
“No. I went out the door and at first I didn’t notice the footprints because the hallway was dark. I…” He stopped a moment to catch his breath before continuing. “I called her name again… I walked into the laundry room and switched on the light… and that’s when I saw her…” He could barely finish his sentence.
Katie squeezed his arm for support, fighting back the tears.
“What about the knife?” the detective asked.
“I… saw my fighting knife on the floor. I couldn’t… didn’t understand.”
“What did you do?”
“I picked it up, and then realized what I had done, so I carefully set it in the sink.”
“Detective Hamilton, do we have to do this right now?” asked Katie.
“We’re trying to piece together what happened. You know that it’s best that we ask questions right away. Sir, can you answer a few more?”
The sheriff nodded.
“Did you notice if you left anything unlocked or open last night? Could there have been anyone left in the house from the party?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“I can confirm that. When I came over this morning, everything was locked,” Katie said.
“Is there anyone who would want to hurt Mrs. Scott?”
“No, everyone loved her.”
“What about you, Sheriff? Have you received any threats lately?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Any case you worked on, a perp you put away, or someone in the political arena?”
“Well… sure… I guess… anyone in my position would have people who resent them…”
“Detective Paul Patton crashed the party and had words with my uncle,” said Katie.
“Patton?” the detective asked.
“Yes, he’s been retired for about four years,” the sheriff explained. “He was complacent during his last years on the job and his wife died suddenly. He complained about some of his last investigations because I took him off the cases.”
“I see,” said the detective as he made notes. “I’ll be speaking with him as well.”
Katie watched as the undersheriff appeared on the property outside and began speaking with some of the police officers—he wasn’t happy and appeared to have some heavy words with the deputies as well as John.
McGaven burst through the front door and ignored the deputy who was supposed to log in everyone who entered the crime scene area. “Katie, sir,” he said but was unable to express any further words.
“Deputy McGaven, could you please take Detective Scott outside? I’ll be out shortly to ask her a few questions,” said Detective Hamilton.
“C’mon,” said McGaven.
Katie hesitated, not wanting to leave her uncle’s side.
“It’s okay,” her uncle assured her. The look on his face was heart-wrenching as she walked away.
Katie sat down on one of the benches on the patio. The sun had broken through the morning clouds but even the warmth and fragrance of the flowers didn’t make her feel any better. She held her tears back, afraid if she started crying again, she would never stop.
McGaven sat next to her. “I don’t know what to say, Katie. I’m so sorry from the bottom of my heart.”
“Thanks, McGaven. It’s been a nightmare—I saw… I saw her body. It was the worst I’ve seen… even on the battlefield.” She looked away.
“Whatever you and the sheriff need, I’m here, and Denise too. Anything you need.”
Katie couldn’t respond and kept her eyes on the ground.
McGaven squeezed her hand. “I’m not kidding. Anything you need. We can stay with you, take care of Cisco, or just be there if you don’t want to be alone. Okay?” he said.
Katie looked up at him. She did feel lucky that she had a great partner and friend. “Yeah, I’m not sure what’s going on yet. Or what my uncle will need.” Her voice was raspy.
She looked inside and saw John examining and photographing her uncle’s display cabinet and the space where the Spanish fighting knife should have been. She pictured in her mind the bloody antique in the sink, blood swirling down the drain. Katie knew without a shadow of a doubt that her uncle didn’t commit this horrific crime.
“Detective Scott,” said Hamilton.
“Please, call me Katie.”
He nodded. “I just have a few questions for you, but I may have more later on. You up for it?”
“Of course.” Her voice was weak.
McGaven remained quiet and acted as a friendly support during the interrogation.
“What time did you leave the party last night?” the detective asked.
“Around 11.15 p.m., maybe 11.20 p.m.”
“How many people were still here—approximately.”
“I don’t know. Maybe twenty people. There were a few more outside.”
“Did you hear what was said between your uncle and Detective Patton?”
“Everybody did. He said something to the effect ‘we all know the truth’.”
“Did you notice anyone paying exceptionally close attention to your aunt? Did you notice or hear her maybe have words with anyone?”
“No, nothing like that. It was a celebration. Everyone was having a great time.”
Detective Hamilton made a few more notes. “Would you happen to know where your aunt kept the guest list?”
“I… don’t…” Katie began. “Oh wait, she uses—used—that table in the corner of the living room as a desk. That would be the best place to find her guest list and anything else you might need.”
“What time did you arrive here this morning?”
“A few minutes before 7.00 a.m.”
“And why was that?”
“We have this tradition that after family events, like holidays and parties, the next morning we would go for a run and then have breakfast together.” Katie grew weary as she tried to see what was going on with her uncle inside the house.
“I think that’s enough for now.”
“Okay,” she said as she stood up, noticing that her legs were shaking.
All three of them looked up at the sound of loud voices and movement coming from the living room. Moments later, the undersheriff and one of the lieutenants were leading Katie’s uncle out of the house in handcuffs.
“Why are they arresting him?” said Katie, trying to push through to help her uncle.
“Wait, it’s just protocol right now,” Hamilton said and blocked her path. “They’ll release him shortly I’m sure. We’ll call you directly to let you know what you need to do.”
“This is ridiculous. My uncle didn’t kill his wife.” She looked at the detective. “You’re crazy if you think he did!”
Detective Hamilton paused a moment, choosing his words carefully. “What I think doesn’t matter at this moment. I need to get all the facts and evidence first. I’ll be in touch.”
Twelve
Sunday 1430 hours
Katie sat on the couch with her legs drawn up and Cisco glued to her side. The dog wasn’t going to leave her no matter the circumstances—it was obvious he sensed her deep grief and sadness.
McGaven pottered in the kitchen, trying to put together something for Katie to eat, but she wasn’t hungry. She still couldn’t get the image of her aunt’s body and her uncle being carted off to jail out of her mind—an agonizing loop of endless images running through her mind.
She wanted more than anything to work the crime scene. If they didn’t find a viable suspect immediately, all the evidence would land back on her uncle.
“C’mon, Katie, you need to eat,” said McGaven. “You’ve had my eggs before and I’ve improved them.”
“No thanks. Maybe some tea w
ould be nice.”
Cisco pushed his long nose against her hand, demanding to be scratched behind the ears.
“Don’t you have to report for your shift?” she asked.
“Not until later, the sergeant understands.” He began shuffling things to plug in the kettle. Opening the cabinet, he said, “What kind of tea?”
“Anything that doesn’t have caffeine, I guess.”
A car drove up the driveway and the engine turned off. Cisco jumped to his feet and began barking, high-pitched to indicate that he knew the person.
McGaven went to the door and was greeted by Chad dressed in his uniform of navy pants and shirt with his surname, Ferguson, on the front. “Hey, McGaven,” he said in passing as he rushed inside to Katie. Without saying another word, he hugged her tight.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear until later. We were in training exercises all morning,” he said. Looking at Katie, “Why didn’t you call me?” he said softly.
“I had to stay at the house for a while with my uncle, and then they forced me to go home. I’m sorry. I was going to call you later. I wasn’t really thinking.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m still in shock. When I heard, I kept thinking why?”
McGaven brought the tea to Katie.
“Thank you,” she said.
“What can I do?” Chad asked.
“Nothing really. I don’t know what they are going to do with my uncle.”
McGaven and Chad stayed around for another hour fussing over Katie and talking shop in hushed voices.
“You know,” Katie said, “I think I’m going to take a nap. You guys don’t need to be here. McGaven, you need to get ready for work. And Chad, I’ll call you in a couple of hours, okay?”
“Are you sure?” he said. “I don’t mind hanging out.”
“No, I’m just going to sleep.”
Hesitantly, Chad and McGaven finally left. She waited to hear their cars back down the driveway and leave, looked at her watch and then got up from the couch. She figured that John had had plenty of time to document and process the scene by now. She needed to get over to her uncle’s house and see if she could find out something that would point to another person—something that John and Hamilton might have missed.
Flowers on Her Grave Page 7
