Girl With The Origami Butterfly

by Linda Berry

  “Settle down, Noah,” Sidney said evenly. “I don’t want to leave you shackled in here all night in the dark with no cigarette or bathroom breaks. Which I’m about ready to do.”

  “I didn’t kill no one!” Spittle shot from his mouth like missiles.

  “I want to help you. So, let’s figure this out.” She gave him a minute to get himself under control, though his knee bobbed like a jackhammer. “Tell me where you got this butterfly.”

  Sweat dripped down the sides of his face and collected along his jaw line.

  “Talk to me, Noah. Then we’ll let you take a break. Use the head. Have a smoke.”

  He swallowed. “If I talk, I’ll look guilty.”

  “You look more guilty by not talking.”

  He lifted his hands as high as the cuffs would allow and wiped his jaw with the back of his hand, then he met her hard stare. “Sammy gave it to me.”

  Sidney and Darnell exchanged a look.

  “When?”

  “A week before she went to rehab.”

  “This is a valuable piece of art. Why would she give it to you?”

  “She wanted to get high.” He swallowed again, his Adam’s apple traveling up and down his neck.

  “So you gave her drugs.”

  “Yeah. But that’s all I’m guilty of. I didn’t kill her!”

  “Where did she get the butterfly?”

  Noah tightened his jaw.

  “Was it the same man who took her on trips, bought her jewelry?”

  Silence.

  “You think he’d protect you if he was sitting in your place? You want to take a murder rap for him? Give us his name, Noah.”

  Noah sat motionless, staring at his tattooed hands. A bead of sweat dripped off his jaw and plopped unto the tabletop.

  Another drip.

  They sat in silence for several minutes, Darnell lazily doodling in his notebook, Sidney checking messages on her phone and texting back replies.

  “I want protection,” Noah said hoarsely. “I’m a dead man if this gets back to him.”

  Sidney noticed about a dozen drops of sweat had collected on the table. She tucked her phone into her pocket and gave Noah her full attention. “We’ll protect you. You have my word. I’ll make sure you do your time in another state, under another name.” Far-fetched, but cops could weave any damn fantasy they wanted if it meant getting a suspect to talk.

  Noah’s jaw sawed back and forth. Another drop of sweat plopped on the table.

  Sidney searched his face for clues, for signs of the cold-blooded psychopath who planned two murders with meticulous care. A man with a precise M.O. that involved incapacitating and abducting a woman, holding her hostage for up to twelve hours, and for his grand finale, slicing open her wrists with surgical precision. A man with discipline. In Noah, Sidney saw a vicious brute filled with hostility, capable of spontaneous rape and violence, a man who craved immediate gratification and succumbed to impulse. Noah was not her killer.

  “Give me his name, Noah.”

  Noah looked at her long and hard and hissed between clenched teeth, “James Abbott.”

  Adrenalin charged Sidney’s system. James Abbott. Long seconds passed while she digested the information. The ruthless CEO who dressed with impeccable taste and ran a multi-billion-dollar company could certainly intimidate a hardened criminal like Noah, and Jason, Barney’s tough-talking bartender. But these men existed in different hemispheres, subject to different laws of gravity. In what scenario would their worlds collide? She studied Noah with narrowed eyes. Was he blowing smoke? “Why do you think you’re a dead man if Abbott found out you talked to me?”

  “Why do you think?” he sneered.

  “Don’t play me.”

  “He’s a killer. He killed Sammy.”

  “Why do you think he killed Sammy?”

  “Because of the way he treated her. He threatened her. Roughed her up.”

  “Slow down, Noah. Start at the beginning. Were Abbott and Samantha involved?”

  “Yeah.”

  “For how long?”

  “All summer.”

  “How did they meet?”

  “Fundraiser at the country club. It’s no secret. Everyone at Barney’s knew. Sammy couldn’t keep a lid on anything. When she was high, she shot off her mouth to anyone who would listen.” Noah’s lips twisted. “She bragged about how she had him on a leash, slobbering all over her, getting her high, buying her all kinds of crap. Whatever Sammy wanted, Mr. Big Shot got her.”

  “You say he roughed her up?”

  “Yeah. He found out she slept around. Wasn’t his personal property like he thought. Got his balls twisted in a knot.”

  “You sleep with her?”

  Noah wiped the sweat from his jaw. “Nah. I knew to leave her alone. Abbott got in my face in the parking lot at Barney’s. Told me to back off, or…”

  “Or what?”

  “He didn’t say. But I knew what he meant.” Noah shot himself in the temple with an imaginary gun.

  “Why would he kill Sammy?”

  “Revenge.”

  “For what?”

  “She didn’t like to be controlled. She told him to go screw himself. They were done. He went psycho on her. Slapped her around. Scared the crap out of her.”

  “Samantha tell you this?”

  “Yeah, one night when we got high at Jason’s crib. She bitched all night. On and on. Said Abbott wouldn’t leave her alone.”

  “When?”

  “Couple days before she went to rehab. She was hiding out at Jason’s. But Abbott found her. She saw him sitting in his car, watching the house.”

  “Abbott stalked Sammy?”

  “She thought so. She went into rehab partly to get away from him. The place had security. She thought she’d be safe. But Jason told me Abbott showed up there, too.”

  “He went to the rehab facility?”

  “Yeah.” Noah scowled. “He’s got money. Power. He can do whatever he wants. They let him see her. Sammy told him if he didn’t leave her alone, she’d tell his old lady.”

  “How’d Abbott take that?”

  “Bad. Told her if she went anywhere near his old lady, she’d prefer death to what he’d do to her.”

  The hair rose on Sidney’s arms.

  “He’s a psycho, man.” Noah sat back and crossed his arms. A look of defiance crept over his face. “I ain’t saying another word ’til I use the head. I gotta piss, bad. And I wanna call my dad.”

  Sidney nodded at Darnell.

  Darnell unlocked Noah’s cuffs from the table, allowing his hands to hang loose in front of his body. Darnell accompanied him to the restroom with Sidney right behind, her hand on the hilt of her sidearm.

  Sidney stood in the doorway as Noah emptied his bladder with his back to her, her thoughts racing through her brain. How much of Noah’s babble was rooted in fact? One thing was certain, Abbott needed a close look. His polished exterior might be concealing a deeply troubled man; one who enjoyed dominating a woman and who threatened a terrifying revenge if she didn’t submit. But was Abbott a killer? Sidney wanted nothing more than to get in his face, put him in the hot seat, grill him. But the powerful CEO was on his private jet flying to the east coast, untouchable.

  She exhaled a tense breath. In the meantime, she hoped her trip to Sand Hill tomorrow would not be futile, and that she’d uncover evidence that would help break her case. Lab results would be in on Monday. One way or another, she intended to make an arrest in the very near future.

  〜 〜

  After an intense search of Noah’s bedroom, Granger and Amanda had found Bailey’s collar, the origami butterfly, and Noah’s cell phone, but no boots, women’s jewelry, or anything else related to the homicides.

  They returned to Ann’s farm and Granger was relieved to see Matt’s van parked next to his truck in the driveway. The porch lights burned bright holes into the darkness, but the interior lights were out. The farmhouse looked quiet, as though silently wa
tching over its residents. Granger figured everyone inside must be passed out from sheer exhaustion.

  Though Noah was in custody, he and Amanda did a thorough search of the grounds. No footprints. No sign that the earth had recently been disturbed.

  They drove back to the station with their evidence and found Darnell and Chief Becker studying the crime board in the conference room. The four officers gathered round the table for a quick briefing. Granger listened intently. The chief put into words the theory that Granger had been developing.

  She was convinced Noah was not Samantha’s killer. She pointed to the new photo of the origami artist, Satoshi Akira, and informed them that her death in Sand Hill looked suspicious and had similarities to their Garnerville murders. She informed them she had an interview lined up that morning in Sand Hill with the officer who worked Satoshi’s case.

  Granger had shared at the last meeting that he spotted a shadowy figure at Ann’s farm, and had followed the footprints to the dirt road by the lake in time to see the disappearing taillights of a truck.

  Chief Becker now made special reference to the incident. “The killer is still out there, a real and dangerous threat to our community, specifically to Ann and Selena. Those footprints could very well be those of our perp, still waiting for his chance to silence Ann. I want one of you posted at her house at all times. Advise the two women to stay alert and keep doors and windows locked.

  “Matt’s over there right now,” Granger said.

  “Good. I still want a cool-headed professional present. We have two armed women who are frightened enough to shoot at anything. Even the mailman.”

  “I’ll head out there,” Darnell volunteered.

  She gave him a tired smile of appreciation. “Catch some sleep over there. Her couch is rent free.”

  “I could sleep standing up right now.” Darnell pushed himself to his feet and shuffled out of the room.

  “I’ll relieve him at noon,” Granger said.

  “I’ll take the evening shift,” Amanda said.

  “Let’s head home, get some shut eye.” Chief Becker stifled a yawn. “Stay alert out there and keep in touch.” The chief walked out of the staffroom ahead of them, went straight to the parking lot and got into her car. Granger had never seen her look so whipped. He drove straight home, peeled off his uniform, and did a face plant in bed at 4:00 a.m.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  AS SIDNEY and David drove down the six blocks that comprised the business district of Sand Hill, she was relieved to find not much had changed during her ten-year absence. In her early twenties, she had often escaped to the small fishing town with her boyfriend du jour, mixing a little steamy romance with hiking and relaxation. Tucked into an inlet where the Suskany River emptied into the sea, the area was known for its scenic harbor and miles of rolling sand dunes. Because of its remote location, Sand Hill had escaped the stampede of tourists that turned other coastal towns into pits of commercialism. Instead, the town mostly attracted art and nature lovers.

  Sidney passed coffee houses, bohemian boutiques, and art galleries operating out of bleached, wood-shingled houses, some dating back decades. She scanned the larger buildings looking for the Police Department and would have missed it entirely if David hadn’t pointed it out with a note of surprise. “That’s it.”

  Sidney backed up twenty feet and turned into the parking lot, equally surprised that law enforcement had taken up residence in the historic Baptist church. The white clapboard building on the tidy green lawn featured a graceful bell tower and a row of arched stained-glass windows. Sidney would have expected to see seniors pouring out the door after a lively game of Bingo, rather than uniformed officers racing off to fight crime. An annex with barred windows in the rear of the building added the appearance of a functioning police station. Two patrol cars and an unmarked white Tahoe were parked in the lot.

  “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God,” Sidney said as she parked next to the Tahoe.

  “Come again?” David said. “Churches inspire you to spout Bible quotes?”

  She grinned. “Just something my dad used to say.”

  “A zealot or a philosopher?”

  “A bit of both.”

  The drive from Garnerville had passed quickly. Sidney discovered she and David shared much in common, including a love for rhythm and blues, and they drummed up a lot of nostalgia for sixties bands like John Mayall and the Allman Brothers. They reflected on how electronic gadgets impacted every nuance of their lives and laughed about their addictions to their smart phones. David took a few time-outs to respond to texts from his kids, his thumbs a blur on the keypad. She found that David was easy to talk to, and by the end of the drive, he had coaxed out private details of her life that she had shared with no one but Selena.

  Sidney released her seat belt, feeling reluctant to end their pleasant visit and shift from social mode to cop mode. “Time to part ways, David.”

  He looked relaxed sitting in the passenger seat, eyes hidden behind aviator glasses, his beard a shade darker than it was last night. “Sure you don’t want me to tag along?”

  “Sorry. Business.”

  They climbed out of the Yukon and stood together on the sidewalk. David looked fit and handsome in jeans and a light parka over a dark blue t-shirt, his hair perfectly tousled. A khaki backpack was slung over one shoulder.

  “Good luck in there. Hope you make headway on your case.”

  “Thanks. What’re you going to do to amuse yourself?”

  “Explore the town, the beach.” He gazed down the street with interest. “Test out the coffee. Find a good restaurant so I can treat you to a wholesome lunch.”

  “Concerned about my health?”

  “You didn’t eat dinner last night.”

  “Yeah, dinner was a bust.” She ruefully recalled the one bite of Chilean sea bass with citrus sauce she managed before getting the call from Granger.

  “Sorry you had a rough night,” he said.

  “Goes with the territory.”

  He pulled her close and she lingered in his arms, enjoying the feel of his hard body pressed to hers. Their lips met and they softly kissed. Her bottom lip was still tender, but her stomach did little flip-flops. When he pulled away, she resisted the urge to bring him back into the embrace. It took a long moment to regain her bearing.

  Tossing Sidney a wicked grin, David ambled away down the sidewalk, the wind blowing back his jacket and riffling through his hair.

  Sidney watched until he disappeared around the corner, feeling a little dazed. How had this happened? A charming man had swept into her life like an errant storm. David had all the right components. He was smart, funny, financially and a committed family man with a realistic take on a marriage. If Kelly hadn’t passed away, Sidney was certain his marriage would have endured.

  With a sigh, she switched her thoughts from David to business. Officially it was her day off, but she looked reasonably professional in a navy blazer over a white cotton blouse, black stone washed jeans, and comfortable but stylish Italian loafers. Her hair hung loose; a good decision since David had reached over and fingered a lock and mentioned the loveliness of the color.

  Again, she tugged her thoughts away from David and stepped into the church’s interior. Filtered light streamed through the stained-glass windows, highlighting six cubicles that had replaced the rows of wooden pews in the nave. Two glass-fronted rooms were built in the sanctuary. One had a large desk and appeared to belong to the police chief. The other had tables, chairs, and a whiteboard, obviously the conference room. Like Garnerville, the small department consisted of four officers, three reserve officers, and a few volunteers, reflecting the town’s small population.

  Seated behind the administration desk in the vestibule, a matronly receptionist typed into her computer while speaking into a headset. Her fingers paused, and she smiled up at Sidney. “Can I help you?”

  “I have an appointment with Officer McKowski.”


  “And you are?”

  “Police Chief Becker, from Garnerville.”

  “One moment.” The woman spoke into her mic and then glanced at Sidney. “He’ll be right with you.”

  A portly man left a cubicle with a file folder in hand and strode briskly up the aisle to greet her. Thinning gray hair crowned a round, deeply tanned face, and he wore emerald green seersucker pants and a bright yellow sports shirt. If his intention was to stand out on the golf course this morning, he would easily win the prize.

  “Nice to meet you, Chief Becker. I’m Officer McKowski,” he said, mashing her fingers in his pudgy hand. “Come this way.”

  McKowski’s brusque tone, hurried manner, and outlandish attire suggested he had a tee time to meet, and he was doing her a favor by making a detour to the station.

  Sidney followed his scent of Aqua Velva into the sparsely furnished conference room. McKowski shut the door behind them and motioned to the table, where two bottles of water had been placed to designate seating. They sat opposite one another and scooted closer to the table.

  Sidney had made the appointment through the answering service, stating only that she wanted to discuss Satoshi Akira’s case.

  The officer folded his hands over the file as though reluctant to open it. “So what exactly do you want to know about Satoshi Akira’s suicide, Chief Becker?”

  Sidney got straight to the point. “I want to propose that her death was not a suicide.”

  McKowski’s face took on a puzzled expression. “You think she was murdered?”

  “It’s very possible.”

  “We haven’t had a homicide in Sand Hill in a decade. And that was a bar fight between two out-of-towners.” He rubbed the back of his neck in an agitated manner, perhaps realizing Sidney would not be dismissed in a hurry. “Her case was cut and dry. No evidence pointed to foul play.”

  “May I see her file, Officer?”

  “Call me Dan.” He pushed the file toward her with his index finger and sat back in his chair with his arms crossed.

  Sidney opened the file and read the report. Then she sorted through the crime scene photos and studied them one by one, memorizing every horrific detail. The photos were not easy to look at. Despite her years of experience, Sidney felt a queasy flutter in her stomach.