Just as Katie walked out the door, she was confronted by Special Agent Campbell.
“Hello, Detective,” he said.
Katie hid her surprise and immediately thought of what he had said during their meeting on Sunday at the diner.
She hid her dislike for the agent; she was a professional and would do her job.
“You look great,” he said. “You would never guess that you slid down a mountain recently.”
“It was a small hillside, but nonetheless.” She glanced down at the parking lot and saw Agent Haley speaking with McGaven. “What brings you here?”
“Anything new and potentially important about my cases, I want to know.”
“I see.”
“No worries, Detective. I won’t get in your way and I look forward to your report.” He forced a smile that looked predatory to Katie. As he stood in the early evening light, she felt less sure of him than ever. It wasn’t just his presence, it was his demeanor, his stare, and how he seemed to have all the right answers.
“We might have recovered the murder weapon.”
“The first or second?” he asked, clearly trying to test her knowledge of the case.
“Weapon?”
“Yes.”
“The autopsy report—which I’m sure that you have read—suggests that the victim, Darla Winchell, was hit forcibly with a cylindrical implement—forcibly enough to induce a heart attack or serious arrhythmia.”
“I see. So you think the victim was struck hard, like you described, enough so that she was compliant and the killer could get her to the fairgrounds.”
“At first I thought the struggle began in the living room, but I believe she was initially in her bedroom when the killer entered. Most likely getting ready for work—maybe she was partially dressed. That could account for her scant clothing at the fairgrounds. She was struck in the bedroom—at least once. There was quite a struggle in the hallway near the bedroom entrance. Maybe she tried to get back to her bedroom to secure the door to call for help. But you can read my report.” She turned to go down the staircase. “I need to get back to work.”
The agent watched her leave and didn’t offer any other suggestion or question.
Katie couldn’t help but feel incredibly uncomfortable around Campbell. Even after they’d had that conversation at the diner, her instinct still inhibited her feelings. She hated to have feelings drive her investigation, but there was something amiss about his motivations. She had relied on her instincts before and they hadn’t proved her wrong—yet.
Katie walked up to McGaven. “How’s it going? Anything?”
Agent Haley walked by. “Hi, Detective Scott. Nice to see you.”
Katie forced a smile back.
McGaven leaned in to his partner. “Something wrong?”
“Not a thing,” she said, clenching her teeth.
“We found her wallet and jacket, but nothing else. Her car appears to be untouched, but Rob is going to dust for foreign prints inside and out.” McGaven paused and a serious expression crossed his face. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” he said, glancing up on the deck.
“Sure.” Katie led her partner to the other side of the complex near a group of trees. The darkness began to settle over the property, but she could still see McGaven’s grave expression. “What’s on your mind?”
“I saw you talking with Campbell.”
“Yeah, he was just making sure we’re doing our jobs.” She tried to make light of it, but in truth, it bothered her. His attitude. His insinuation.
“You know that I’m not one to ring the panic button.”
She smiled. “C’mon, Gav, spit it out. What gives?”
“After you told me what he discussed with you at the diner the other day, the more I think about it, something seems fishy to me.”
“Fishy?”
“Yeah, I don’t like how we were roped into this situation and how he sits on his throne watching us—you know what it reminds me of?”
“What?”
“It’s like he’s… it’s like he’s pulling the strings. Everything in my gut says so. Especially after I saw him today.”
Katie began, “I know—”
“Just do me a favor, take extra precautions, okay?”
“Okay,” she said.
“I mean it. Otherwise, you’re going to have someone sleeping on your couch until this investigation is over.”
Katie laughed. “I’ll be fine.” She had her own concerns, but now hearing McGaven’s voice, she was apprehensive. “Really, I’ll be fine. And I’ll be careful.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Thursday 0915 hours
“Okay, thank you,” Katie said as she pressed the end button on her cell phone. “Just confirmed with Mrs. Dorothy Winchell we can talk to her this morning, she will be home until 1 p.m.”
“How did she sound?” McGaven asked.
“Strong, but a bit weepy—but that’s understandable with what she’s going through.” Katie shuddered, remembering what it was like when her Uncle Wayne came to the house to tell her that her parents had died in a car accident. So many emotions erupt and keep coming, but you find strength somehow. “She wants us to do whatever we need to do to find her daughter’s killer.” She read through her notes. “Mr. Winchell died four years ago from cancer. There are no other family members. She’s still in Darla’s childhood home. We might be able to find out more about her and maybe how she might’ve come into contact with her killer.”
McGaven was printing out lists from his database, trying to corral names and people that could be of interest from the fairgrounds.
“You ready for a road trip?” She tried to sound upbeat. In reality, she’d had a difficult time sleeping last night. She kept running through the strange conversations she’d had with Agent Campbell, thinking of the times she now knew he had been following her, and wondering how many other times he might have been watching her without her knowing.
“Always ready.”
“How are those lists?”
“Long and tedious. Breaking them down, running down backgrounds, crossing some off. And I know there must be aliases mixed in the group.”
Katie stood up and slipped on her jacket. “I still think there could be a reason that the fairgrounds location was chosen to display the body. Some connection. It could mean something to the killer—whether it’s a fond memory or a terrifying one. Something… having to do with the Ferris wheel in general, maybe an accident or something that happened near the ride?”
“There are all types of people on this list, every age and background; it makes you wonder if people work carnivals and fairs because they are hiding from something.”
“You know, Gav, that’s a great point. How far did you get with your search on accidents at fairgrounds?”
“Not far. I didn’t have time to check on the fire you mentioned,” he said, following her out of the office.
“We need to look for something that isn’t regular fair or carnival stuff. Something that is life defining.”
“That might be a great assignment for Denise. She likes digging for that kind of stuff.”
“Great idea.”
“I’ll call her on the way.”
Katie was relieved they didn’t have to drive to another small town, since it looked like it might storm soon. Darkened clouds resembling fantasy creatures loomed overhead. It reminded her of a metaphor for all things looming over the investigation that she couldn’t control.
They easily found Mrs. Winchell’s house, since she lived in a cul-de-sac located on Bridge Street. It was a nice two-story home, dark brown with white shutters, with two willow trees in front. The landscaping, part lawn and part flat stones, was meticulously organized.
Katie parked on the street in between two houses. As she got out, she was struck by how quiet it was, reminding her of Jeanine Trenton’s home.
Katie and McGaven walked up to the front door, which had a large oval stained-glass window f
eaturing flowers, vines, and robins, and rang the doorbell, which emitted a beautiful chime. Within a minute, she saw a woman coming down the stairs to the foyer. She appeared younger than Katie would have thought. Slim and blonde, she moved with ease.
Mrs. Winchell opened the door.
“Mrs. Winchell?” said Katie.
“Yes?”
“I’m Detective Katie Scott and this is my partner, Deputy Sean McGaven.”
“Please, come in,” she said as she led them into the living room.
Katie noticed that Darla resembled her mother. She could also see that pain infused Dorothy’s expression and her words. Losing a loved one was something that changed you, defined you, and nothing would ever be the same again.
“Thank you,” said Katie. She marveled at the décor—high-end couches, tables, chandelier, baby grand piano, and exquisite paintings on the wall. The modest exterior of the house gave no clue to the beauty and meticulous decorating within. It was stunning, but felt lonely too.
Mrs. Winchell took a seat on the sofa as Katie and McGaven opted to sit across from her.
“First, we and the department would like to convey our sincere condolences. We are so very sorry for your loss.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
“Would you mind answering a few questions? I promise we will not take up too much of your time.”
“Of course. I want to do whatever I can.” She took a breath and seemed to brace herself for what Katie would ask.
“When was the last time you talked to Darla?”
“It was about a week ago. She would always try to make sure that she called me at least every week, usually in the evenings. I did wonder when she didn’t call me this week, but I assumed she was busy.”
“Did she seem worried about anything?”
“No, not at all. She was the same cheerful person she always was.” Her voice caught in her throat, but she composed herself.
“Had she ever said anything to you about someone bothering her at work or at her apartment?”
“No. But then, if there had been anything like that, she wouldn’t have wanted to burden me with her concerns. Darla was like that—considerate of everyone else’s needs.”
“Was she dating anyone?”
Mrs. Winchell thought for a moment before answering. “No one special. I think she dated a young man at the bank on and off.”
Katie saw the photographs along a table. She stood to see them clearly. There were photos of Darla and her parents in exotic places. “Such amazing photos. You traveled a lot.”
“Yes,” she said and smiled.
Katie came to another photo. It was a smaller black-and-white shot of Darla with a German shepherd. It was familiar to Katie and she could barely contain her amazement and excitement. “This photo,” she said as she picked it up for McGaven to see. “Where was this taken?”
“Oh, Darla was in the army for two years. She wanted to earn her way through the military, and didn’t want us to pay for her college.”
“Was she a military K9 officer?” She wondered if the victims overlapped their time in the army.
“Yes,” she said. “Darla loved dogs. We had several while she was growing up. We thought she might be a veterinarian, but she decided to go into banking because she wanted to start a business of her own.”
Katie set the photo down. It brought back her own memories with Cisco. She realized how lucky and blessed she was that her uncle had had the connections to allow her to bring Cisco home. It made her transition much easier and she couldn’t imagine doing it without him. “She sounds like she knew exactly what she wanted to do.”
“She did. She always made lists, ever since she was about eight years old.”
McGaven watched Katie and then turned his attention to Mrs. Winchell. “Did Darla ever have any issues with the bank?”
“No. She said it was difficult at first. They expect a lot out of their employees, but then, like Darla always did, she settled in and excelled.”
Katie came back and sat down next to Mrs. Winchell. “I don’t want to make this any more difficult than it already is for you.”
Mrs. Winchell fought back the tears as she touched Katie’s hand. “Nothing is more difficult than identifying your daughter’s body. Please, if I can do anything…”
Usually Katie was able to get through interviews with family members who had lost a loved one, but this time it was difficult.
McGaven must have sensed Katie’s unease, as he asked, “You said this was the house that Darla grew up in?”
“Yes. We bought the house just before Darla was born thirty-four years ago. Darla still has a room here.”
“Would it be possible to see it?” asked Katie. “Anything that might help us to know Darla better would be helpful.”
Standing up, Mrs. Winchell said, “Of course.” She climbed the stairs and stopped at the top landing. “Please excuse me, but I’d rather not go into her room right now. It’s the last door on the right. Stay as long as you like.” She turned away and went back down the stairs.
Katie and McGaven went directly to Darla’s room. For some reason, Katie had imagined the room to be that of a little girl, decorated in pink with a canopy bed. But instead, it was modern, almost like the rest of the house, but with personal touches. There was a double bed with a white comforter and lace pillowcases with two blue velvet pillows, much more luxurious than her apartment furnishings. There was a nightstand on each side of the bed with Tiffany-style matching lamps. A glass desk with a closed laptop sat on the other side of the room. A white bookcase was filled with old books from her childhood and some new business textbooks. It was tidy and organized. A large rug with a woven gray-and-blue design covered most of the light wood floor.
“Okay, I’ll start over here,” she said, referring to the nightstands. Standing in Darla’s childhood room, which had been updated through the years, made Katie feel the loss as well. Maybe it was something from her own childhood, but it was difficult to stay neutral to the situation.
“Okay,” said McGaven and he began his search at the desk. He sat down and opened the computer.
Katie had learned from experience to check the bed and mattress first. She slipped her hand in between the mattress and box springs hoping to find a journal, but found nothing. She checked the pillows carefully for any secret pockets. Again, nothing.
There were two small drawers on each nightstand. She opened them, but there wasn’t anything of interest inside, only items like lotion, gum, an old magazine, two novels and some earplugs, but nothing that would help them.
The other nightstand had similar items in the top drawer—empty notebooks, pens, keys and perfume. When Katie tried to open the bottom drawer, she found it was stuck fast. She finally pulled it out and inside, there were envelopes with letters addressed to Darla Winchell at her apartment address. It seemed odd. Why would they be here?
“Hey, I think I might have something,” said McGaven. “Check this out.”
Katie put the letters down, joined him and peered down at the laptop. “How did you get into her email?”
“She had her password checked to remember each time she logged in.” He clicked on the envelope icon. “Look at this,” he said and clicked on a file folder marked “Military.” There were many emails from people she met in the army, from dog trainers and military police to people in her training class. There was one email in particular from someone signing themselves just “DH.” Look at this.” McGaven clicked open the message.
The subject line read: Liars Reap and the message was three short sentences: You know what you did. You can’t take it back. The finale is coming.
“A threat?” she said.
“Looks like it.”
“Look at the date. It’s from a year ago.”
“And there are a few more, but they won’t open.”
“Can you figure out where it came from?” said Katie.
“It looks like it was a temporary email—l
ike those generic ones you get in spam. I can’t tell where it came from.” He clicked on a few more things without luck.
Katie wrote down the message in her notebook with the date and initials so she wouldn’t forget it: You know what you did. You can’t take it back. The finale is coming.
“Now we need to find out what Darla did—or what someone thinks she did.”
“We need to check the emails of the other victims.” Katie was hopeful—finally, they had a big break.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Thursday 1410 hours
Katie was quiet at the lunch break with McGaven. They had stopped at her favorite burger place before visiting the First Community Bank of Pine Valley where Darla Winchell worked, but she was preoccupied with the email message and being in Darla’s home. It was as if she were connected to her, and the other victims, due to the military K9 link. She wondered if she was too close to the cases to be completely objective. She had skimmed through Darla’s personal letters, but there wasn’t anything that stood out or was connected to her time in K9—most were just letters from an old boyfriend. She would have McGaven take a look at them back at the office.
“Are you going to eat your fries?” asked McGaven.
“What? Oh, go for it.” Her appetite wasn’t what it usually was when she was working on a case.
“I know that I’m not one of your gal pals but if you have something on your mind, you know you can trust me.” He looked at Katie with a sincere expression.
Katie knew how lucky she was to have a great partner—they had been through so much together and she knew she could trust him. But sometimes she just had to let herself work through things in her own time. “I’m fine, really. I appreciate the concern.”
“Is it Chad?”
Katie couldn’t lie. “Yes, but… we'll just have to see."
Pretty Broken Dolls: An absolutely gripping crime thriller packed with mystery and suspense (Detective Katie Scott Book 6) Page 20
