Flowers on Her Grave

by Jennifer Chase

  “You think she’s really at home?”

  “What do you mean? Of course. Why not?” McGaven said.

  “I tried her cell. No answer, straight to voicemail.”

  “So she’s probably sleeping.”

  “Call the sheriff.”

  “What’s the problem?” McGaven asked.

  “Just call the sheriff to confirm she’s there,” John said again, this time he wasn’t polite.

  “Okay, okay.” McGaven picked up the phone and dialed the landline at Katie’s house. He waited.

  Finally, the sheriff picked up and said, “Hello.”

  “Hi, it’s Deputy McGaven.”

  “Deputy, what’s wrong?” he said.

  “Well, nothing, sir, but is Katie there?” He looked at John who was pacing.

  “No, she left for work a few hours ago. She’s not there?” The sheriff sounded worried.

  “No, she told me that she was staying home because she wasn’t feeling well.”

  “Deputy, find her now,” he said. “And call me back.” The line disconnected.

  McGaven slowly hung up the phone.

  “What is it?” John said.

  “She’s not there. She pulled a switch—told the sheriff she was coming here and told me that she was staying there. Dammit!”

  “Where is she?” John demanded.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “You must have some idea?” he pushed.

  McGaven wavered, not knowing if he should explain what had been going on or not. “Wait a minute; I know how we can find her.” Picking up the phone and pressing two digits, he said, “Hi Denise, do you have access to the GPS on the patrol cars?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Even the unmarked lieutenant and detective ones?”

  “Yes. What’s going on?”

  McGaven calmly stated, “I need to know where the vehicle is that Katie and I are using—it’s the one that had been retrofitted with a K9 release. Okay? Call me back.” He hung up.

  “Is that going to work?” John asked.

  “It should unless it’s somewhere where a signal can’t get through.”

  Looking at the board, John said, “You know she’s trying to solve her aunt’s case at the same time as your cold case.”

  “I know,” McGaven said quietly.

  The phone rang.

  McGaven snatched it up. “Yes.”

  “The vehicle is located at 12788 High Mountain Terrace,” Denise said.

  “High Mountain Terrace is the address for the sheriff’s house. Thanks, Denise,” he said and hung up.

  McGaven stood up and grabbed his jacket.

  “I’m going with you,” John said.

  McGaven was going to object, but he said, “C’mon.”

  McGaven drove the navy sedan up to the sheriff’s house, where they saw the unmarked police car parked at the far left side of the driveway. McGaven called the sheriff again to update him and get the access code of the gate.

  Both men jumped out of the car and ran to different areas of the property calling Katie’s name, but it was deserted. McGaven ran around the back and didn’t see anyone. He received a phone call.

  “McGaven,” he answered.

  “My keys are gone,” said the sheriff. “She took the keys to my SUV.”

  Forty-Two

  Thursday 1445 hours

  Katie navigated the long uneven road and finally made it to Dodge Ridge. The journey had bounced her and Cisco almost senseless. As she drove in quiet solitude, so many things rolled through her mind; her relationship with Chad, what she had accomplished with the cold case unit, and the tragedy of what had happened to her aunt and uncle. No matter how this turned out, she knew that nothing would ever be the same again. It was an axiom she had always lived by since she had lost her parents: hope for the best and prepare for the worst. Katie’s only hope was that she wasn’t adding to grief the people in her life were already suffering—if something were to happen to her.

  Katie turned her phone to silent mode and noticed that there was little signal. She didn’t want to talk to anyone in case they had already figured out she had given everyone the slip. If she were to chat with anyone, McGaven or her uncle, they might be able to change her mind. That wasn’t going to happen.

  Up ahead, Katie saw the parking area. It was much bigger than she had first thought looking at it on the map. It was long and flat without the usual divots and washed out areas from the previous season. She chose a parking place at the end, which was the most level and the most visible.

  She had given herself forty minutes to prepare her pack, change her clothes, and ready Cisco with his working vest before she began the long hike up to the location where Cynthia Andrews had died. She also took a few minutes to acclimate herself to the area, referring to all of her senses. Sight could be deceiving. So closing her eyes, she listened intently to the silence around her. A light breeze caressed her face, but she knew that it would get colder as the sun set. It was too soon for any of her suspects to follow her, but her internal intuition told her that the killer was coming.

  “Cisco, stay here,” she commanded as the dog took a few trips around the large SUV. He then stayed at her side curiously sniffing everything as it went inside her pack. Organizing her camping gear to be ready for transport came naturally to her—she had done this hundreds of times getting ready to go to the battlefield. Inside her jacket, she put extra magazines, nylon gloves, ski hat, cell phone, and extra cell battery. She attached a leg holster and secured her Glock, and secured a small Beretta .32 caliber in her ankle holster. Around her neck, on a thin leather rope, she wore a knife tucked in a cowhide sheath. The four and half inch blade would prove useful under many different situations. Attaching a Remington rifle to the outside of her backpack as a precaution against wild animals, she was ready to go.

  The fast-moving clouds covered the sun, casting a dark shadow over her. It seemed fitting, but she pushed past the usual jitters. “Okay, buddy,” she said and took out Cisco’s bulletproof vest and wrapped it around him, putting some of her water bottles into his side pockets to lessen her load. His demeanor instantly changed; he was now in combat mode. Ready to serve. Ready to go.

  She hoisted the backpack and made sure everything was fitted properly before she headed up the trail.

  Forty-Three

  Thursday 1545 hours

  McGaven and John stood in Katie’s living room talking with Sheriff Scott for almost a half hour trying to figure out what to do. They debated between calling it in to the sheriff’s department and putting out an all-points bulletin for the sheriff’s SUV. In the meantime, McGaven kept calling her cell phone and then it finally went straight to voicemail—either she was out of range, or she had turned it off.

  “Did she take anything with her?” McGaven said.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, like weapons or clothing, anything out of the ordinary.”

  “I’m not sure,” the sheriff said.

  The sheriff searched her bedroom and found her closet raided and her firearms missing. He looked around the rest of the room and couldn’t decipher what she had taken.

  “Anything?” McGaven said as he stood in the doorway.

  “I’m not one hundred percent sure, but it looks as if she took extra weapons, ammo, and a heavy coat.”

  McGaven thought about it and it occurred to him. “What about a duffle bag or backpack?”

  “I don’t know. When she left she wasn’t carrying anything and Cisco was with her.”

  “Is this window always open like this?” said John as he ran his fingers along the sill. There was a slight crack opening where it wasn’t shut all the way.

  “I don’t think she would leave it like that,” he said. Realizing, he continued, “She must’ve packed some stuff and then dropped it out the window so I wouldn’t see it, and then picked it up when she got to the car.”

  “Then she drove to your house and swapped c
ars?” added McGaven.

  “Why?” the sheriff stated.

  McGaven and John looked away uncomfortably.

  “What’s going on? Tell me everything right now!” he said, his voice rising in anger. “Don’t bother denying it—take me through what you’ve been working on.”

  McGaven and John followed the sheriff back into the living room.

  “I don’t know what Katie has told you about the cold case,” began McGaven.

  “She said it was a case that I worked on with Ken Teagen. The young woman that was sliced up and left in the woods near Dodge Ridge.”

  “Yes,” said McGaven. “We’ve run down most of the witnesses, family, friends, and her doctoral supervisor.”

  “Okay.”

  “Katie began a preliminary profile of the killer, citing that they were experienced with the outdoors, like a hiker or climber. The killing was up close and personal—someone who knew the victim or hated them. The weapon was never found.”

  “I know this.”

  “Katie then talked to Teagen and she said he was in rough shape. And we talked to Dr. Wills, Andrews’ best friend, who seemed odd, controlling, but not violent. And we also chatted with her doctoral supervisor who was clearly hiding things and might have profited from her research,” he said.

  “That’s still not telling me what you two are keeping from me,” the sheriff stated.

  McGaven didn’t want to tell the sheriff about the two retired detectives, but he had no other choice. “Katie and I were going to speak with Andrews’ aunt and uncle. They own a sporting goods store, but when we got there we saw Paul Patton go inside to buy some supplies. We followed him to find out where he was going—he went to Teagen’s house.”

  The room was quiet.

  “There could be many reasons why two retired detectives remained friends,” the sheriff said, trying to maintain his calm. “What did Katie say?”

  “She thought there was something else going on because Teagen didn’t appear to be as incapacitated as he was when she had visited him.”

  “Go on.”

  “Katie felt that the killer wasn’t someone in the victim’s family or friends.”

  “And?” The sheriff turned to John who had been extremely quiet.

  “I guess it’s my turn. Katie came to me after she searched the outside of your house.”

  “I’m guessing she found something?” Katie’s uncle said.

  “She found a piece of fabric just outside the laundry room and video footage for just a few seconds that evening of a man outside acting suspiciously.”

  “What?” said both McGaven and the sheriff in unison.

  “Look, Katie has been trying to figure out your case, trying to do everything she can to help without getting anyone else involved.”

  The sheriff thought a moment. “Have you been able to find out who that person is on the tape?”

  “No, but Katie had a hunch and asked if I would test the knife for any other blood or substances,” John said. “I found another blood type that didn’t belong to you or Mrs. Scott. It’s being tested for DNA as we speak.”

  Sheriff Scott took a seat at the breakfast bar. “So where is Katie?”

  “My guess would be that she’s somehow trying lure the killer out,” said McGaven.

  “How?”

  “I think she’s feeling the pressure of your arrest and murder one charge coming soon, so she’s…” McGaven couldn’t say it.

  “Going rogue…” said John, finishing the sentence.

  “What would you do if you had several possible suspects but not the evidence to back it up?”

  The sheriff thought a moment. “She must think that she can make the killer reveal themselves somehow.”

  “She wouldn’t do that, would she?” said McGaven.

  “Setting a trap,” John said. “That would make sense with the time restraint and multiple potential suspects. She would have to come up with some type of ruse for them to go to… the scene of the crime?”

  “That’s crazy. There are so many things that could go wrong somewhere that remote.” The sheriff got up. “We have to contact the undersheriff and get a team up there right now to search for her.”

  “Wait, we don’t know for sure that she’s there,” said McGaven. “We also don’t know who she’s talked to and if she’s really trying to entice a killer out.”

  “She would have to somehow let them know that she had some revealing evidence, or some reason they would want to confront her.” The sheriff looked worried. “You’re right; if we send a team up there it could expose Katie and get her killed.”

  “Sheriff Scott, she has Cisco with her.”

  He nodded.

  “I think, speaking from experience, she went up there prepared. She’s had plenty of training out in the field. She’s smart and capable. She knows what she’s doing,” John said, keeping his voice steady.

  “What do you suggest?” the sheriff asked as he looked at both men. “I know you both care about her but I can’t go anywhere; otherwise, I’ll jeopardize my temporary release.” He referred to his ankle monitor. “Do you really think she’s right? The killer will be walking into her trap. Then what?”

  McGaven frowned. He knew how driven Katie was; she had gone to a considerable amount of trouble to get away and try to catch a killer. “I think she went because we weren’t solving the Andrews case fast enough. She believes her case is related to yours. We’re close, but nothing is concrete yet.”

  “Okay, you both are going to be my eyes and ears. McGaven, check to find out if my SUV is near the crime scene area; I’m assuming Dodge Ridge. John, you don’t have to do this, but I need your previous military expertise to be McGaven’s backup. Are you both sure that you want to take the risk to search for her? It could mean a suspension or worse if Katie is wrong about this. Her judgment may be biased because of me. This could all be a wild goose chase.”

  Without hesitation, both men agreed.

  “Get prepared. Anything you need. Get it. It’s going to be getting dark soon. You need to get up there ASAP.”

  McGaven and John turned to leave.

  “Wait,” the sheriff said. “Thank you. I… I don’t know what I would do if I lost her too.”

  Forty-Four

  Thursday 1645 hours

  Katie had been hiking for an hour and the trail wasn’t as bad as she thought it was going to be from the descriptions by hikers on the websites she’d checked. By her calculations, she had made great time with only two short water stops for both her and Cisco. At a few points on the trail, it reminded her of hiking through rural towns and higher plains areas with her team. The memories kept her company as she continued, reminiscing about conversations and camaraderie from another life.

  The cooler air made her sinuses burn and eyes water as she continued to climb. The area had been without rain for a couple of weeks, giving the ground time to harden—it would soon be a muddy mess as the rain came. She trekked onward, navigating around overgrown bushes and trees, noticing that the ground in the denser areas was getting softer, causing her boots to sink.

  She stopped and looked at her map again—another fifteen minutes and she would be at the top point where Cynthia Andrews had made camp. Maybe she was too optimistic thinking that someone like one of the retired detectives would tackle the hike—but if her instincts were correct, she would be seeing Patton, Teagen, Dr. Wills or Dr. Harper very soon.

  Katie jogged up a short steep hill to the next level and saw something fluttering attached to the bushes. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was the washed out remnants of what was once yellow crime scene tape.

  “We’re close, Cisco…”

  Forty-Five

  Thursday 1655 hours

  McGaven and John met back at the forensics unit having changed their clothes. McGaven borrowed one of the deputies’ SUVs and transferred his duffle bags and weapons from the trunk of the blue sedan into the off-road-friendly vehicle. As McGaven zippe
d up his heavier deputy coat, he thought he would be feeling guilty or worried that he might be suspended or fired, but nothing was farther from the truth. He felt strong, confident, and ready to do whatever he needed to do to make sure Katie was safe—and hopefully, he thought, they will have captured the killer, too.

  He looked up and saw John, who had transformed from the cool science geek to a battlefield commando in SWAT pants and jacket.

  “Everything ready?” said John.

  “Yep,” he said. “Tried to get a signal on Sheriff Scott’s SUV, but it says it’s out of range. I guess that’s our answer. Let’s go.”

  Forty-Six

  Thursday 1800 hours

  The calm before the storm was my favorite time—it was the segment of time before the battle began and after the previous struggles dissipated. It was after the dust had settled and your mind became clear, but before all hell would break loose. It was the time to prepare, mentally, physically, and spiritually before the enemy put its sights on you—again. Make no mistake, it would come at you full force. So let the battle begin…

  Katie walked the entire camping area to acclimate herself to her new surroundings. Dropping the tent and some of the gear, she imagined what had most likely happened that night. The original detectives assumed the murders happened at night based on body temperature and the fact the victim was in her T-shirt and panties. It made sense if the killer wanted a surprise attack. She spent fifteen minutes systematically moving around the areas finding entry and exit locations as well as the best vantage points to the site, where someone could have watched without being seen. The fading sunlight flickered between the trees and branches like a beacon, hurrying Katie to work faster. She was running out of light…