Logan read the time stamps. “He made three trips to the hardware store: ten thirty in the morning, just after noon, and around three p.m.”
“Roger had plenty of time to go to Jason’s house. Maybe they argued, and it got out of hand.” At the end of the driveway, Tessa turned toward North Sound.
“That’s possible,” Logan said. “Roger and Jason were involved in a dispute for months. Roger’s frustration must have been building up.”
“Renovations are never finished on time. If people killed their contractors over delays, it would be open season.”
“Plus Roger still needed Jason. The inn isn’t finished.” Logan returned the receipts to the envelope. “So we have three suspects now? Sarah, Heather, and Roger.”
“Four.” Tessa pulled out her phone. “Kurt sent background information on Peter Evans, the man Jason fired. Would you read it?”
Logan scanned the email. “He’s twenty-eight, married, and has a record. One assault conviction five years ago.”
“Did he serve time?”
“No.” Logan shook his head. “He paid a fine, did community service, and took anger-management classes.”
Logan read off Peter Evans’s address, and Tessa drove to a two-story house near the center of town. She parked on the curb. The garage door was open. Inside, a man in his late twenties punched a heavy bag that hung from the ceiling. His hands were wrapped, he was stripped to the waist, and sweat poured off him.
Tessa shut off the engine, her eyes on the fighter. “Well, he would certainly be strong enough to dispose of a dead body.”
“I guess.” Logan didn’t like the way she was looking at the other man. But the guy did look like he could bench-press a Chevy. “You’re staring.”
Tessa’s mouth quirked, and her eyes were laughing. “Just making a professional assessment.”
“Uh-huh.” Logan got out of the vehicle and followed her up the short driveway. The fighter delivered a right cross to the bag, sending it swinging.
“Peter Evans?” Tessa called.
The man halted. “Yes.”
“We’d like to ask you a few questions about Jason McCoy,” Tessa said.
“Sure.” Peter stepped away from the bag. He tugged off his boxing gloves and began to unwrap his hands. “I’m done anyway.”
“When did you see Jason last?” Tessa began.
Peter tossed his equipment aside and reached for a towel. “Sunday night. I went to see him at his office.”
“What did you talk about?” Tessa asked.
Peter dropped the towel on the workbench. He picked up a sweatshirt and pulled it over his head. “It’s a long story.”
“We have time.” Tessa hooked her thumbs in her duty belt.
Peter’s nostrils flared, and the tendons in his neck corded with tension. The guy was a bull and clearly had a short fuse. Logan was very glad he was here with Tessa.
“He owed me money.” Peter bit off the words.
Logan cut to the chase. “He also fired you, didn’t he?”
Peter’s eyes narrowed as they shifted to Logan. “If you already know, why are you asking me?”
Roger Duvall might not have much of a temper, but Peter Evans was a hothead.
Tessa stepped forward. “Because Jason was murdered.”
Peter didn’t react.
“You don’t seem surprised,” Logan said.
Peter mopped his face again. “The only thing that surprises me is that no one killed him sooner.”
Tessa placed a hand on Logan’s forearm and then addressed Peter. “Tell us what happened between you and Jason.”
Peter turned and grabbed a water bottle from his workbench. He drank in long swallows, and Logan wondered if he was thirsty or thinking.
He finished half of the bottle. “Jason accused me of stealing materials. Then he fired me. Before you ask, I didn’t do it.”
“Then why did he accuse you?” Tessa asked.
Peter set down the bottle. “Because he didn’t want to pay me.”
“Why not?” Tessa asked.
“I don’t know.” A vein on Peter’s temple throbbed. “That’s why I went to see him on Sunday. I’ve been calling, but he refused to take my calls or return my messages.” Peter paused, exhaling hard. “On Sunday, he refused to pay me again.”
“And you just let him throw you out of his office?” Logan smelled bullshit. “Jason was what, thirty years older than you?”
“Figuratively speaking.” Peter’s jaw sawed back and forth.
“You didn’t resist?” Logan asked.
“No.” Peter didn’t hesitate, and he didn’t blink as he and Logan stared at each other. “I took an anger-management course. Apparently, some of it stuck.”
Tessa interrupted. “How long did you work for Jason?”
“Two years,” Peter said.
“Before he fired you, did you have any other disagreements with Jason?” Tessa asked.
Peter rolled his neck. Something cracked. “Jason fought with everybody. He enjoyed it.”
“So why did you work for him?”
“Are you new here?” Anger flushed Peter’s face. “There aren’t that many jobs.”
Logan was tiring of Peter’s attitude. “Did he provide any evidence or tell you why he thought you were stealing from him?”
“If he had proof, he would have filed charges. Instead, he spread rumors.” Peter gnashed his teeth. “He trashed my reputation. I’m going to have to go to the mainland for work now. But my wife doesn’t want to move away from her family. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”
Tessa leaned forward. “Where were you on Monday afternoon?”
“Here.” Peter jerked a thumb toward his heavy bag.
Tessa persisted. “Did anyone see you here? The mailman, your wife, a delivery service . . .”
“No. My wife was working, and we can’t afford to shop online right now, not with me unemployed.” Peter’s jaw jutted, and his posture stiffened.
“Can you explain the assault conviction on your record?” Tessa asked.
Peter flinched. Rage radiated from every inch of his body. “That was bullshit.”
“A lot of bullshit happens to you,” Logan pointed out, mostly to draw Peter’s attention away from Tessa. She could handle herself, but if there was going to be violence, he preferred it to happen to him, not her.
Peter pivoted and paced in a furious circle. “This dude was rude to my wife. She was my girlfriend at the time. He grabbed her boobs, and I punched him in the face.”
OK, if he was telling the truth, Logan couldn’t blame him for that. He’d have done the same.
“So why were you charged?” Tessa asked.
Peter stopped, almost vibrating with indignation. “Because I’m me, and the dude was this rich asshole with a lawyer for a daddy. No one saw the rich asshole grab Shayla. There were six witnesses who testified that I attacked him for no reason. The fact that all of them were his friends didn’t matter to the judge.” He stood still, his chest puffing in and out as he took deep breaths.
He needed practice with those anger-management techniques.
“Thank you.” Tessa nodded. “We’ll probably have more questions. Please let me know if you think of anything that might relate to Jason’s death.”
“Are you going to arrest me?” Peter challenged.
“Not at this time,” Tessa answered carefully.
“Then I’m done answering questions.” Peter’s voice rose. His hands curled into fists at his sides.
Logan took a step closer to Tessa.
Peter turned and delivered a bare-knuckle punch to the bag.
“We’re just looking for the truth,” Tessa said. “If you think of anyone you saw on Monday, call me.”
Peter glared at her. “If I had known I was going to need an alibi, I would’ve made plans.”
Tessa and Logan returned to the vehicle.
“That was an interesting interview.” Tessa drove away from the house.
“Peter did not want to volunteer information, and he has a short fuse.”
“He was barely holding it together,” Logan agreed. “I couldn’t envision Roger Duvall attacking Jason in anger, but I can totally see Peter Evans losing his cool.”
“And he’s strong enough to carry off a dead body or three.”
“Does he move to the top of the list?” Logan asked.
“He has a previous conviction for assault, and Jason was assaulted. But there’s no real top or bottom of our suspect list at this point. What we need is something from forensics. Physical evidence that will tie one of our suspects to Jason’s murder directly.” Tessa rubbed her temple. “But that will take time. I’m going to review, regroup, and type up notes tonight.”
“The investigation is going backward. Instead of eliminating suspects, we’re accumulating more.”
“It would be really great if someone had a solid alibi.”
7
Tessa eyed the darkening sky. “The sun’s going down. I should get home.”
Her mother’s dementia became worse after dark, a condition known as Sundowner syndrome. Tessa had already worked several hours past the end of her shift. And as much as she wanted to solve the case, Jason McCoy wasn’t going to get any deader overnight. Juggling work and caring for her mother and teenage sister was harder than Tessa had ever imagined. She did her best, and her family had to be just as important as her job.
“How is your mother?” Logan asked.
“About the same. The medication hasn’t helped very much.”
“I’m sorry.”
Tessa sighed. “There isn’t anything else I can do. There’s no cure. All I can do is try and keep her safe and at home for as long as possible.”
As Tessa drove, she called Bruce and warned him he was on speakerphone. “Have you or Marybeth made any progress?”
“No,” Bruce said. “I’m still working on the computer. Jason’s hard drive is cluttered with years and years of documents. Marybeth is about halfway through the files.” His voice lowered. “She hasn’t stopped, but she looks tired.”
“Call it a day, and start fresh tomorrow.” Tessa couldn’t expect a woman in her late sixties to work all night. “Would you make sure she gets home safely?”
“I will,” Bruce said. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll take the laptop home with me and keep working on it.”
“It’s fine, but get some sleep too.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bruce said before the call disconnected.
Tessa and Logan agreed to meet at the station at seven o’clock the following morning. Then she dropped Logan at the station where he’d left his vehicle. She drove to the cottage she’d been raised in. Lights glowed in the windows, and Cate’s vehicle sat out front.
Tessa stepped out of the SUV and closed the door. She started up the front walk. A small golden shape rushed around the side of the house. Tessa had no time to react. The chicken lowered its head and ran straight into Tessa’s legs.
“Ow!” She moved sideways, trying to avoid the sharp beak. Her mother had always owned chickens. Most of them were friendly, except the alpha hen, who only liked Tessa’s mother. “Damn it! Stop that.”
Tessa reached down and scooped the chicken up in her arms. The hen squawked and pecked at her hands as she rounded the side of the house. Tessa carried her into the enclosure and latched the gate. With the chicken still tucked firmly under her arm, Tessa used the flashlight from her duty belt to open the coop and do a quick head count. It seemed as if only the one hen had escaped.
Tessa set her on a roost. “You should be grateful. If I left you outside all night, you’d be fox food.”
Killer Hen cocked her head and glared up at Tessa with beady black eyes. The hen had the upper hand, and she knew it. The chickens were one of the few things that Tessa’s mother still enjoyed.
Tessa closed the coop and left the enclosure, making sure the gate was securely latched. In the house, she shed her coat and stared at the boxes of Christmas lights piled near the door.
Tomorrow.
She went into the kitchen. Cate sat at the table. A familiar sweet scent made Tessa’s stomach growl. “Do I smell your grandmother’s cinnamon rolls?”
“You do.” Cate stood, her face alarmed. “What happened to you?”
Tessa looked down. Red marks covered her hands and forearms. “Killer Hen was loose.”
Cate chuckled. “That chicken eats out of your mother’s hand.”
“I know. I suspect she sees me as competition for my mother’s attention.” Tessa thoroughly washed her hands and arms in the sink. “I’m thrilled to see you. But I thought your grandmother would be here today.”
“She was here earlier. I traded places with her.” Cate handed Tessa a dish towel. “I wanted to review Sam’s case with you. Do you have time?”
“Yes. I’m waiting on forensics. Tonight, all I had planned was typing reports. I have to remind myself it’s only been two days, and this isn’t Seattle. Nothing happens immediately here.”
“I can provide an entire tray of my grandmother’s cinnamon rolls if you need a bribe for the lab techs.”
“I’ll think about it.” Tessa laughed. Her nose caught the scent of melted cheese. “Do I smell food too?”
“Jane sent a casserole.”
“Bless her. Your grandmother is the best.” Tessa tossed the towel onto the counter, opened a drawer, and took out a box of Band-Aids. She wrapped one around her finger, where Killer Hen had drawn blood. Three Band-Aids later, she looked ridiculous. “Where are my sister and mom?”
“Patience went to Mallory’s house for dinner. They had a school project to work on. Mallory’s mother will bring her back after dinner.” Cate’s brows rose in a question. “She said you would approve.”
“I do.”
Before the knitting ladies had taken charge of her mom, Patience had spent too much time trying to cope with their mother’s illness. It had been far too much responsibility for a teenager. With the knitting ladies helping out, Patience could be a kid.
“Your mother had some soup about an hour ago and went to her room to lie down.” Cate checked her watch. “I was just going to check on her.”
“I’ll do it.” Tessa turned. “Her hours are getting mixed up. She’s awake and restless half the night and exhausted in the daytime.”
And so was Tessa.
She headed for the bedrooms. In the hallway, she cracked open her mother’s door a few inches. Her mom lay flat on her back, her hands flung out, snoring loudly. Waking her now would only agitate her. Tessa softly closed the door and went to her own room. She secured her weapon in its safe, then changed her uniform for jeans and a sweatshirt before rejoining Cate in the kitchen.
Cate cut a slice of casserole. Tessa declined a glass of wine and brewed coffee instead. She could not afford to sleep too deeply, not when her mother might wander at any given time. Without the alarms Logan had installed on the windows and doors, Tessa would be afraid to close her eyes at all.
Fifteen minutes later, Tessa carried her empty plate to the sink. “Tell your grandmother thank you. I can’t possibly repay her for all she does.”
Cate smiled. “She enjoys every minute of helping people. She couldn’t mind her own business if she tried.”
Tessa put their plates in the dishwasher, then poured coffee into two mugs and carried them to the table. “Now, where are we on Sam’s case?”
A few weeks before, Sam’s mother had begged Cate and Tessa to look into her daughter’s disappearance. Sam’s father had committed suicide not long after his daughter had gone missing, but Mrs. Bishop still lived on Widow’s Island. She’d never believed that Sam was dead.
“I brought the file.” Cate crossed the room to her bag and removed the FBI file. “Not that there’s much in it.”
Tessa fetched the sheriff’s department file from her bedroom. She opened it on the table. “Let’s recap. The day Sam disappeared, she wanted us to meet her at Widow�
��s Walk at midnight. She said she had pot and that she had a ‘ride,’ but she wouldn’t tell us who with. Neither one of us was willing to sneak out.”
At fourteen, Sam had had less adult supervision than Tessa and Cate.
“At the time, I assumed she was meeting a boy, but she never actually said she was,” Cate said.
“No, she didn’t. That’s the impression I had too, but we shouldn’t make assumptions.” Tessa sat across from Cate. “It could have been anyone.”
“We never saw Sam again.” Cate finished the story.
“Her jacket was found at Widow’s Walk the next morning. The sheriff’s department was called in, and a search was organized. The investigation went nowhere.”
Tessa flipped through the reports in the file. “We told the sheriff about Sam’s plans that night, but no one followed up on the lead. Our interviews are missing from both files.”
She paused and rubbed the small of her back, which ached from her twenty-pound duty belt. “I find it very interesting that the sheriff’s department and FBI collaborated on Sam’s case, yet neither file is complete. Was the sheriff covering up for someone, or was he just completely convinced that Sam fell and was washed out to sea?”
“We don’t know if he purposefully excluded our interviews or just didn’t bother to write them up. I wish he was still alive so we could ask him.” Cate breathed out a sigh of frustration. “We’ve been considering Sam fell or was taken. Could she have run away?”
“She would have mentioned it to one of us if she was thinking about leaving. We told each other everything back then.”
“Except she didn’t tell us who her ride was that night.”
“No, but she didn’t keep her plans entirely to herself.” Tessa shook her head. “I’d say Sam running away is a long shot.”
“I agree, but we need to keep our minds open,” Cate said. “Or there’s no point in reopening the case.”
“True,” Tessa agreed. “What’s our next step?”
“We start asking questions.” Cate’s voice was firm.
“We won’t be able to keep our activity under the radar,” Tessa said. “Everyone will know we’re reopening the case.”
Whisper of Bones Page 6
