Twenty-Five
Wednesday 1945 hours
Katie woke with a jerk. Her seatbelt cut into her side; her body was halfway between the seat and the ceiling. Fighting with her door release, she kicked open the driver’s door and felt the cool air whip through the cab. She managed to unhook her seatbelt and crawled out on her hands and knees. Sitting down in the dirt, she regained her bearings and calmed her dizziness.
It was too dark to really see anything. She wasn’t sure if Nick had crawled out too. Half expecting to see a looming figure climbing up from the ravine, Katie kept her voice low.
“Nick,” she whispered. “Are you alright?” She felt something watery on her face as she brushed the hair from her eyes and realized it was blood. She decided to crawl around to the other side of the Jeep, keeping a low profile. She groped for her weapon on her waist, but it was missing. Perspiration ran down her back and face as she made it to the passenger door and yanked it open.
“Nick,” she whispered. “You okay?”
She made out his outline still strapped in the seat and reached for his face. “Nick.”
He moved and mumbled.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said.
“Let me get you out of this.” She felt for the seatbelt release and finally found it, pressing hard against the side of his stomach. “Ready,” she said.
He acknowledged. She pressed the side of the buckle and it instantly released Nick, and he fell on his side. He let out a groan of agony.
“You okay?” she asked.
“I will be. Need a bit of help.”
He began to wiggle from his position as Katie put one of his arms around her shoulder, pulling him out of the Jeep and over to an apple tree, leaning him against the narrow trunk for support.
He handed her back the cell phone.
Surprised, she said, “It still works,” and immediately dialed the police, giving them her badge number and general location. Turning to Nick, she could vaguely see with the light from the cell phone. His face had blood running down the side.
“You’re hurt,” she said keeping her voice strong.
“Nah, it’s just a scratch.”
They were interrupted by a strange sound coming from the ravine area. It sounded like metal scraping against more metal. Something screeched and groaned. Katie’s eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness and she could see outlines of the trees and where the orchard ended, dropping into a valley area.
“Stay put,” she said. Getting to her feet, she walked over to where the truck had disappeared, stood at the edge and stared down—heavy tire marks had dug into the earth and ended abruptly. The headlights were still illuminated but directed at the ground while the bed of the truck pointed up at a forty-five degree angle. She could barely make out the driver’s door open and what appeared to be the outline of a man.
Katie turned and hurried back to her Jeep, dropped to the ground and dived inside the cab looking for her gun. She didn’t immediately find it. Running her hands along the inside of the roof, now the bottom, she searched frantically, knowing that the man was going to return and finish the job.
“C’mon, c’mon,” she said under her breath.
Jamming her fingertips under the seats and in every cranny she could, she felt the familiar grip of her Glock. She pulled it out of the Jeep and ran to Nick. “We have to move you now,” she stressed.
“What?”
“He’s coming,” she whispered.
Helping him, she propped him up, making sure he could move with her.
They shuffled up the track and several rows to the left. “Okay, stay here,” she said, helping him to sit down in a dark, bushy corner where he would be relatively hidden.
He grabbed her arm. “Don’t try to be a hero. Hold him off until the cops get here.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. She tossed him the cell phone and was gone, running in the opposite direction from her Jeep until she found a good spot to watch and wait, ready to distract her attacker if he got too close to where Nick was hidden before the police arrived. Steadying her Glock ahead of her in a primed stance and moving slightly back and forth, she was ready.
After barely two minutes, Katie saw the outline of a man limping through the darkness. As he got closer she saw he carried a shotgun, but reached inside his long jacket and retrieved a semi-automatic handgun.
Two guns against one…
She waited quietly and watched him, as she tried to decide by his build and how he moved if she had ever seen him before. She couldn’t ascertain if he was old or young, probably somewhere before middle age—thirty to fifty-five. That wasn’t helping, but she needed to be able to give the police something if he somehow managed to slip away.
He moved quickly toward the Jeep and, without checking to see that she or Nick were inside, he bent over and rapidly opened fire at the windshield. The shots echoed throughout the area. No hesitation. No remorse. Four shots to kill two people.
She watched the dark figure look inside the vehicle. He stood upright, alert, and carefully scanned around. Katie couldn’t remember a time where she had been so scared—in the army, perhaps—but here in her hometown, absolutely not. There had been close calls with killers but this situation felt different; it felt deadly.
The figure turned and started to walk in Nick’s direction as if he knew that he was there.
Katie considered her move. If she waited, she would leave Nick defenseless, but if she followed, it may be the last thing she ever did.
She crept slowly behind the man, her footsteps practically silent. He was getting closer and closer to Nick with every step. She felt helpless, knowing she would have to act soon or Nick’s cover would be blown.
With a sudden move, the man spun around and fired two shots in Katie’s direction. She sidestepped out of direct fire and dropped to the ground—a military move that instantly made her wish she had Cisco tucked in at her side. The bullets missed her—but not by much. She heard one hit a tree trunk behind her and the other zinging past over her shoulder. Digging her elbows into the dirt, she steadied her Glock and eyed her target. She wasn’t going to fire until it was absolutely necessary.
The man began walking toward her, unhurried and deliberate, but she knew that he couldn’t see her. He slowly raised the shotgun waist high. Katie tensed, and her trigger finger slowly squeezed the trigger…
Sirens sounded in the distance, several of them, approaching fast.
The man turned, dropped his gun and ran in the opposite direction. Katie sprinted over to where she’d left Nick.
“Nick,” she said softly. Her heart quickened. “Nick,” she said again.
The sirens were close now.
Finally, “Here,” he said.
She spun around and dropped to her knees. “Are you alright?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking that question?” He started to get up; Katie helped him and wrapped her arm around his waist.
“Funny,” she said.
Bright blue and white light blinded them as the patrol car approached. Katie raised her other hand to signal, and the patrol car lowered its lights and stopped. A deputy opened the driver’s door and stepped out. “Is there an active shooter?”
Katie pointed in the direction the man went.
Two other deputies rolled up and exited their vehicles, and followed the first one into the dark.
“Stay here,” they ordered Katie and Nick.
Flashlights strategically swept back and forth, lighting up most of the apple orchard as deputies searched for the shooter.
Twenty-Six
Wednesday 2215 hours
Katie leaned against a patrol vehicle after she and Nick had given statements and turned over the video that had been on her phone. She pulled the foil blanket closer around her to stop her shivering as she watched the sheriff’s department’s K9 teams go off in search of the shooter. Nick limped over to her, a bandage on his face and larger wraps around his arm. “Well,” he said, looking down
, “I keep collecting more scars. They wanted me to get a few stitches and I just laughed.”
“Yeah well, I’m catching up to you, I think,” she said, touching her forehead. “Ouch.”
“It’s clear that whatever you’re working on is making someone very unhappy.”
“Don’t tell them that,” she said, referring to the top brass now arriving at the scene. The undersheriff was only just out of the car and barking orders to anyone in his eyeline. “This incident definitely has something to do with either one of my cases or my aunt’s murder.”
For the first time, Nick looked concerned. “Hey, I’m just an army throwaway, but maybe you should take a few days off. Reboot. Reassess the situation.”
Katie knew he was right. “You’ve heard the saying that after twenty-four hours a homicide is more difficult to solve. But after four days, it’s next to impossible.” Her words hung in the air around them.
“Detective.” Undersheriff Martinez, dressed in sweatpants and a leather jacket, was walking over to her. “Glad to see you’re okay.” His words didn’t quite match his tone.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, bracing for a reprimand.
“I’ve been briefed on both of your statements,” he said, nodding to Nick. “Sorry about your Jeep, Scott. One of the deputies will give you both a ride home.”
“I need to get a bag out,” she said.
“I don’t see a problem with that,” he said and then hesitated. It was clear that he wanted to say something else, but decided against it for now. “I look forward to your report tomorrow.”
“You’ll have it on your desk at the end of the day,” she said.
Martinez walked away.
As Katie and Nick waited for one of the deputies to give them a ride back to Katie’s house, they saw John climb back up to the top of the orchard, torch in hand. He had been examining the truck for any evidence.
He approached Katie and Nick. “You guys okay?” he asked.
“Not my finest moment, but we’re going to live.” Then she couldn’t help herself, so asked, “Anything?”
“Nope. License plate belonged to another vehicle. The VIN number had been removed, and there were no fingerprints. Was the guy wearing gloves?”
“I couldn’t say. I couldn’t see much,” she said.
“The gun he dropped was clean—not a print—so I assume he was wearing gloves.”
Katie nodded in agreement still dazed by the entire incident.
“Too bad. You guys take care, and I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said to Katie.
Twenty-Seven
Thursday 1000 hours
After making sure her uncle was stocked with plenty of food and Nick was safe and well at home, Katie got herself together and unraveled the bandage from around her head. She had a full schedule today and didn’t need to explain to everyone she came in contact with what had happened the night before.
McGaven’s dark sedan pulled around the lane and made the sharp turn into her driveway. Hurrying to get in, Katie settled in the passenger seat, snapped her seatbelt into place, and settled in for the forty-five minute drive to the university.
“I thought you’d be more banged up,” said McGaven.
“That took an entire thirty seconds before you could make a joke?” she said and smiled.
“Well, I was going to lead up to it, but what the heck, just go right in for the kill.”
“Didn’t even need a Band-Aid,” she said.
“Heard about all the theatrics from Deputy Moore. Wow. And they didn’t even catch the guy. Slick…”
“Yeah, well, if they’d been another five minutes coming, I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you right now.”
“You have no idea who it was? Couldn’t see anything about him to identify him?”
“It was completely dark and the truck had blacked out windows,” she said.
“You know, if the guy was that ballsy, he’s going to try again.”
Katie sighed. “I know.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Plan?”
“Yes, plan. How do you plan to stay safe?”
“Isn’t that always the plan?” she said, keeping her eyes on the road.
He took the turn-off to get onto the freeway. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t know…” she said slowly.
McGaven turned to look at her. “You don’t know?”
“It’s like I’m fighting a ghost. I don’t know if it’s someone from the Stiles missing person’s case, this case, or if it’s about my uncle. I’m driving blind here.”
“Well I have news for you, you better figure out how to be safer.”
“Of course.”
“I know that you have an instinct about it, right?”
“I keep coming back to my aunt’s homicide—it has to have something to do with that. It would make sense.”
McGaven drove in silence—it appeared that he too was thinking about the cases, his eyebrows furrowed as his jaw clenched. Katie looked out her side window as the world rushed past in a blur. If she didn’t find a connection or some solid evidence soon, she was lost.
Her cell phone buzzed to an incoming text:
Thought you’d want to know. Officially a positive ID on Sam Stiles.
Katie was glad, but at the same time, she was also sad that Mrs. Stiles would know for sure that her son had been murdered and buried out in a field. She wondered if anyone had spoken with her in person or if she’d had just an impersonal notification. She closed her eyes for a few moments before she opened them again.
As the dense forest made way to more open areas with buildings, businesses, and parking lots, the hazy overcast morning warmed up. They were almost at the main part of the campus decorated with colorful signs, posters, and large banners for meetings, protests, and anything that the student body wanted to voice an opinion about.
“I think we can park over there,” McGaven said, referring to the large guest parking area for the science buildings. “You up for a walk?”
“Sounds good,” she said.
McGaven eased the police vehicle into a spot on the end and they made their way on foot along a thin pathway with a sign posted every which way to different departments.
“We’re looking for building three, room 112.”
Katie nodded. It was cooler than it appeared so they briskly wound their way through student parking lots and in between clusters of trees. As the season turned cooler, the aroma of pine trees was unmistakable; fresh, invigorating, and clean. The slight breeze carried the outdoor smell, making Katie think of times when she was young and everything was about being outdoors and having fun.
The parking lots were full and students poured from all directions. Obviously, the classes were out just before lunchtime. No one paid any attention to Katie or McGaven. They waited a few minutes as the last of the students funneled through the doors before entering the building.
It had been a while since Katie had been to school and the familiar sights and sounds came tumbling back. The stark hallways. Assignment and grade postings on the bulletin boards. The different faces hurrying to the next class carrying notebooks and the next necessary text books.
“I think room 112 is down here.” McGaven gestured to the farthest end of the hall. “Make you glad you aren’t in school now?” he said.
“I had enough school back then—no desire to go back anytime soon.”
McGaven laughed. “Here it is.” He pulled open one of the double doors.
Katie was surprised to find that it was a lecture hall, and not an office. “Detective Scott? Deputy McGaven?”
Katie noticed a pile of work on the podium and a bottle of spring water, and a box of Kleenex. There was also a pair of glasses folded neatly and a gold pen sitting perpendicular next to a small writing tablet with scribbled shorthand. Still lit up on the large screen from a PowerPoint presentation were chemistry symbols and complex formulas printed neatly.
A
young man, lean with dark hair and the shadow of a beard, had come out of an adjoining room. Katie estimated him to be in his mid-thirties.
“Professor Brandon Wills?” said Katie.
“Yes, it’s actually Dr. Wills,” he said, emphasizing the word “doctor.”
“Of course.” Katie recognized immediately that Wills was a stickler for the rules.
“I’m Detective Scott and this is Deputy McGaven.”
He nodded. His posture was stiff and uncomfortable.
“Thank you for taking the time to see us,” she said.
“You said it was about Cindy Andrews. Any news? Did you find her killer?”
“I head up the cold case unit at the sheriff’s department. And I’m looking into her homicide.” She made a mental note that the doctor called Cynthia, Cindy. Interesting. “I’m getting up to date by revisiting some of her friends and family members.”
“I see,” he said. “Please, let’s go into my office.” He gestured stiffly with his hand.
Katie and McGaven followed.
The room was larger than Katie had expected, decorated with conservative wood furniture, a large mahogany desk, credenza, and three bookshelves. Everything was excessively neat and tidy. On his desk was a name sign: Dr. B. Wills, Director of Natural Sciences.
“Natural Sciences include biology, chemistry as well as botany and zoology?” Katie asked.
“Yes, it does. Please, have a seat.” He gestured and then sat behind his desk maintaining control—but at the same time trying to appear relaxed. He fidgeted with his tie until he was satisfied that it was perfectly straight.
“Thank you,” she said.
Both Katie and McGaven sat.
“I thought it was more environmental studies and physics,” said McGaven.
“Yes. Actually, you’re both correct.”
Flowers on Her Grave Page 15
