“I’ll send you the file so you can take a look at witness statements.” Summer wiped a stray tear as Colton continued, “It’s a cold case.”
She turned her face toward the passenger window like she was listening intently. In truth, she was trying to hold it together.
“How old is the case?” Dawson tapped his flat palm against the wheel.
“The murder happened two and a half years ago.” The timeline could mean this guy moved on to Autumn. She might’ve gotten away and relocated to Katy Gulch to hide out where she met the one man who she believed could protect her. That would explain her wanting to stay on a secluded ranch and all the lies.
“What was her name?” Summer asked. She couldn’t help herself. People in law enforcement would refer to her sister now as the victim. Summer wanted to know the young woman’s name.
“Cheryl Tanning,” Colton supplied.
Cheryl Tanning. She didn’t deserve what happened to her, either.
“There were several suspects.”
“Which one do you like?” Dawson asked.
“She used to frequent a coffee shop called Capital Coffee. Didn’t you say you were visiting a place downtown that Autumn used to go to?” Colton asked.
Summer put her hand over her mouth to cover her gasp.
“We were just there,” Dawson admitted.
In Summer’s mind, the coffee shop would be a great place to scout a target for someone with an agenda. It was busy. All types of people came in and out. So much so, that people hardly noticed each other.
“So, it’s the same place,” Colton confirmed. “Okay.”
“Is there mention of any other spots Cheryl used to hang out?” Dawson asked.
“That was the main place. There was a guy in her life, but her friends said she was very protective of him. No one knew who he was. A few names came up in the investigation. You’ll see those in the file notes.”
“I’ll grab a place to stay. We might want to settle in for the night,” Dawson said on a sigh. “I appreciate the information and tell Gert she did good work.”
“She’ll be tickled,” Colton said before saying goodbye and ending the call.
The signs for Round Rock, a large suburb north of Austin, showed they were close to Austin again.
“Thought we might grab a place here for the night. We can take a look at the files and then follow up on any discoveries. There’s every kind of food imaginable, which I can pick up. I’d rather you be seen as little as possible while we investigate.” There was so much warmth and compassion in his voice. “And now it looks like we need to circle back and visit the coffee shop again.”
She couldn’t agree more with what he said. There was no reason for her to be exposed more than necessary.
His cell phone buzzed and she assumed that meant the file was coming through.
“I have a laptop and an overnight bag in the backseat.”
She quirked a brow.
“Don’t always get a ton of notice when I have to head out. I keep most everything in the trunk of my sedan. The bag here is just for backup,” he explained.
Her mind was still churning over what they’d just learned but she nodded. She was interested in hearing the details of his job. Staying focused when her mind was reeling proved harder than expected.
A serial killer? That couldn’t be. How would she explain the two men chasing her yesterday if Autumn was killed by a serial killer? Hit men weren’t serial killers and they usually didn’t have henchmen.
Oh, Autumn. More of those fresh tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked them back. At least she felt something besides numb. Had her sister been in a relationship with a murderer and not realized it until it was too late? What kind of person seduced his intended victims?
Dawson pulled off the highway and into a big chain hotel. She straightened her baseball cap.
“I’ll check us in and be right back.” Dawson left the truck idling and headed inside the lobby. He was back a few minutes later, card keys in hand. He slipped into the driver’s seat and then pulled ahead to a parking spot.
Summer kept her chin to her chest as she exited the truck and waited for Dawson. He quickly grabbed his emergency bag from the backseat before locking up the truck and joining her.
He put his arm around her, shielding her from other eyes. To onlookers, the move might seem intimate. A husband and wife stopping off at a roadside hotel on their way somewhere else.
She knew he was covering as much of her as was humanly possible. She was able to hide more of her body and face.
Their room was on the fifth floor, number 510. Dawson opened the door to the small suite. There was a microwave and a mini fridge in the entryway along with a coffee maker and an assortment of coffees and teas. The bathroom was larger than the one in her Washington apartment. The shower was travertine tile and the vanity area was large enough for half a cosmetic store.
The main room had a work desk, a small table with four chairs and a seating area. A flat screen TV took up half the wall in the living room. There was a comfortable if slightly worn sofa and two armchairs along with a marble coffee table.
This place was larger than her apartment back home. Home. Where was that anymore? Home was a foreign word to her now. Thinking about a future without Autumn was like walking forever in the dark, knowing light was out there in the distance but too far for her to see it.
Until she looked at Dawson and saw a glimmer of hope. Hope that she might somehow find her way through this darkness and toward the sun again. Hope that she might not want to spend the rest of her life alone. Hope she could have things she’d long ago dreamed about but never believed would be.
Anger seeded because she didn’t want to think about a future that didn’t involve her sister. Where did she even start?
“There’s only one bed in the suite. It’s yours. I can make myself comfortable here on the couch,” Dawson said by way of explanation.
“That won’t be a problem. I trust you. You can sleep in the same bed. I don’t want to put you out.” She was rewarded with a smile.
“It’s no trouble.” Dawson set his bag down, unzipped it and pulled out his laptop. He positioned it on the marble coffee table.
Summer moved next to him on the sofa and curled her left leg underneath her bottom.
“I want you to be prepared for the fact there are going to be graphic pictures. There’s nothing wrong with skipping that part if you—”
She was already shaking her head. “I need to look at them. There might be something about her that reminds me of my sister. Something you wouldn’t catch that I would.”
Nothing in Summer wanted the images of a murdered Cheryl Tanning imprinted in her mind. But this was important. She would do whatever it took to find justice for her sister. This was the best way to see if there were any similarities.
He looked into her eyes like he was searching for confirmation it was okay to move forward. She gave him a slight nod before he fixed his gaze on the screen and opened a protected link.
There were two files in the one marked, Tanning Murder. The picture file contained two folders: evidence and victim. He clicked on the one marked Victim, and the screen was filled with thumbnails. He pulled up the first.
Cheryl Tanning’s lifeless violet eyes fixed on a point above her. Her eyes were striking. Summer was always told that she and her sister had very rare-colored eyes. There was something haunting about the pair she was looking at.
Other than that, Cheryl Tanning was a beautiful young woman. She had pale skin and ruby-red lips. She had slightly darker hair than Summer and Autumn, and blunt-cut bangs. She was stunning. There was no question about that.
Dawson clicked on another photo and it was a full-body shot at the crime scene. Based on the photo, she looked to be about the same size as Autumn. Similar figures.
“This bastard likes a certain type.” Dawson muttered a few more choice words under his breath.
She’d picked up on the similarities, too.
Her heart battered her rib cage as a weight dropped down around her arms. There was what looked like a wire wrapped around Cheryl’s neck. They now knew it was a string from a violin.
What were the odds that Autumn would be killed by a similar method, two and a half years later? They had to be slim.
An icy chill gripped Summer’s spine as she looked through the crime scene photos one by one. Dawson opened the case file next. A short description of the murder outlined that Cheryl Tanning had been found in an old dried up well on the back of someone’s land. A group of teens who routinely rode dirt bikes on the property had stopped because of what they described as a smell that made them physically sick.
When they investigated, expecting to find an animal carcass, they received the shock of a lifetime when they found a body instead. All of the teens had been traumatized by the finding and during the course of the investigation had been cleared of any involvement.
There’d been a mystery man, who Cheryl’s friends confirmed she’d been very secretive about.
“Do you think he was married?” Summer asked as she pointed to the screen.
“It’s possible. A married man could have a lot to lose if word got out that he was having an affair.” Dawson confirmed.
“It’s Austin, so my mind snaps to a married politician,” she admitted.
“Can’t be ruled out. But those aren’t the only powerful men in the capital or men with something to lose if word of an affair got out. There are three things we look for in a murder investigation: means, motive and opportunity,” he stated.
“Opportunity wouldn’t be difficult in a secret affair. The person would be used to meeting one-on-one in possibly secluded locations,” she reasoned.
“True. Affairs are sticky. She was hiding his identity and was protective of him, which gives me the impression he was the power broker in the relationship.”
“Someone older than her? Someone smarter or more cunning? Someone used to getting exactly what he wants from people?” she asked.
“That’s along the lines of what I’m thinking,” he confirmed. “I’d add to that someone who stands to lose a lot, be it money, prestige or social standing if an affair is uncovered.”
“A murder conviction would rock his world.” She caught herself tapping her finger on the marble coffee table as her brain started working overtime.
“Attorneys, bankers, anyone with a professional license would be in jeopardy.”
“Look here.” Summer pointed to the screen. “It says at least one of her friends thought she was getting depressed. He blames the affair.”
“The jerk could’ve been manipulating her, asking her to do things she didn’t want to. She might’ve complied for fear of losing him.”
Autumn could be a manipulator. But the shoe could easily have been on the other foot. She wasn’t strong mentally, and when it came down to it, a person could exercise power over her.
CHERYL TANNING HAD no visible signs of molestation. There was no DNA left on her body or found on the scene. Nothing under her fingernails. No sign that she’d fought back.
She’d been secretly dating someone. There was nothing in her cell phone record that would indicate she’d been seeing someone. Her credit cards showed no unusual activity. At least one of her friends regretted teasing her about being a call girl, saying she started having a lot more cash than usual. The response had been that Cheryl stopped returning calls and texts for a while.
The strangulation came from behind. The method of killing was personal. The killer would have to have been literally standing right behind Cheryl. She didn’t fight back, so maybe she thought her lover was playing a joke or trying to arouse her.
There were several bruises on Cheryl’s body in varying stages of healing. She worked as a waitress and took night school classes. A waitressing job could explain the bruises on her thighs and arms. But so could sexual exploration.
A defense attorney might argue Cheryl Tanning liked it rough in the bedroom. Or, at the very least, participated. Even if her lover had been identified, he wasn’t necessarily guilty. Although, this kind of killing was personal. Staring at the evidence and the summary, Dawson was convinced the murderer was someone inside her circle despite the way the body had been dumped down the well.
The killer might have panicked. The police officer’s report stated there’d been leaves tossed into the well after her body. Covering her up? Or covering her? As strange as it sounded, the sicko might have been covering her so she wouldn’t get cold.
Dawson had seen enough deranged and sadistic people to last a lifetime. So, the leaves could actually be a sign of caring in a twisted way. Or a type of burial depending on religious affiliation. Even some cold-blooded killers believed they were spiritual. Hell, some killed out of ritual.
In this case, though, this bastard seemed well on his way to becoming a serial killer. The rule of thumb was three murders spread out over time.
If this killer believed that Autumn had lived, he would stop at nothing to silence her. There were all kinds of questions racing around in Dawson’s mind.
“She didn’t have a family, either,” Summer noted.
“But Autumn did have a family. She had you.”
“He didn’t know that. Think about it, she hid me from you, too. I barely knew about you and the two of you were married.” She made a good point. “Except that you weren’t really.”
“True.” He rocked his head. “Then, that’s part of his MO.”
“Maybe he thinks no one will notice that they’ve gone missing and it’ll give him more time to cover his tracks.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Dawson pulled out the notepad and pen that he’d tucked into his emergency bag. He jotted down the fact the perp isolated his victims.
“Why did he decide to kill her, though?” she asked. “Like when did he know? The minute he started the affair?”
“It’s possible. If Cheryl is his first victim, and so far Gert hasn’t found any other that match this MO, he might have started the affair not knowing how it would end. At some point, he knew he was going to kill her.”
“When he was done with her?”
“It’s likely.” He feared those words were like a physical blow. Of course, Summer would take them personally considering her sister was involved.
“My sister must’ve been scared of him. She might have felt backed into a corner with no way out,” she continued.
It explained a lot about how she’d acted when he’d first met her and her actions after the fact. More of those puzzle pieces were clicking together.
“Do you think she figured out what happened to his former girlfriend?” she asked.
“It’s highly possible.”
“I just don’t understand why she didn’t go to law enforcement and explain her situation or tell me.”
“Abusive men are master manipulators. He could’ve made her feel like he’d find her no matter where she went—”
“She could’ve come to me. I would’ve helped her find a way out of this.”
“And she might think she would be bringing him right to your doorstep,” he countered.
“The necklace. My name. You said it was one of her most prized possessions.” Puzzle pieces were clicking together in her mind, too.
She tapped on the words they’d written on the notepad earlier. Protect loved one.