| |
“I’ve known her a long time and she has an instinct for solving murders,” Quinn said, as if Dela hadn’t spoken.
“Ms. Alvaro—”
“Dela,” she interrupted the detective. “Call me Dela.” Since she’d discovered Cisco Alvaro was most likely not her father, she preferred to be called by her first name.
“Dela, this is a local matter. We won’t need you to help with the investigation.” Detective Stedman moved his gaze from her to Quinn. “But we wouldn’t mind help from the FBI.”
She had no jurisdiction here, but she’d be damned if she would stay out of the investigation. She pulled out her phone and took photos of the areas that had caught her attention. The overturned camera bag and the smashed camera. A part of her didn’t want to tell the two men that Rowena had two cameras but she didn’t want to jeopardize the investigation.
“You’ll need to find out the make and model of her other camera so you can see if someone pawned it,” she said, heading for the door.
“Wait a minute!” Stedman called. “I thought you said you hadn’t seen her in years and didn’t even know she was a photographer?”
“That’s true. But when she sat down to have dinner with me last night, she had two cameras. One on a strap around her neck and one in her camera bag. If there isn’t a camera in that overturned bag, then the person who killed her took it.” Dela grasped the door latch.
“Wait. It sounds like you could be helpful to this investigation.” The detective said begrudgingly.
Dela grinned at the door, then settled her expression into a stern demeanor before she faced the room. “I thought you said I was of no use to this investigation?”
Detective Stedman ran a hand over his face and glanced at Quinn, who sported a grin as if he knew she’d find a way to stay in the middle of everything.
“It appears you know more about the victim and have a strong motivation to dig for the truth, whether we allow you to help or not.” Stedman handed her a small notebook. “Walk through the room and write down what you see out of place. Don’t touch anything.”
Dela nodded and walked over to the detective. She took the notebook from him and walked over to the door, slowly scanning everything as she made her way into the room.
Quinn and Stedman talked to Trent, asking if he’d ever taken statements. It appeared Stedman hadn’t been kidding when he said they were low on staff. They asked Trent to go out into the hall and knock on doors asking if anyone heard anything last night after 11:30.
Dela focused on the smashed camera and camera bag. Quinn crouched next to her, holding out a latex glove. She pulled the glove on and turned the camera bag over. The bag was empty other than a long lens, a small rag, and business cards. She documented what she saw and moved toward the bathroom. That’s when she saw the toilet seat was up and there were droplets of water on the rim.
“Quinn, Detective Stedman, you might want to come look at this.” She faced the toilet and waited for the two to enter the room. “Either your suspect used the facilities, or he flushed the SD cards.”
They both swore.
Dela had a feeling they’d never see the photos that caused Rowena’s death. But she was going to find out how and who. “Did you ask Trent to call surveillance and see who came into this room while Rowena was in my room? Or at least see who came and went in this hallway all night.”
Stedman glanced at Quinn, who grinned, and the detective left the bathroom.
“You better be careful or he’ll be offering you a job,” Quinn said.
Dela said under her breath, “No one wants a crippled detective.” She pushed by him, walking over to the sliding glass door onto the balcony. That could be how the person got into the room. She knew where every surveillance camera was positioned. It had been something she’d asked to see before she came over to assess the security at Siletz Bay Casino. The way the cameras were set up, they would have caught someone climbing over the railing above to drop onto the balcony outside this room.
She studied every inch of the door and the balcony. She didn’t see anything out of place. Except... she knelt, studying what looked like sand shoe prints. If the wind picked up these could be whisked away.
“Quinn how soon are your guys getting here?” she called into the room.
He appeared in the doorframe. “Why?”
“I think this sand is in the imprint of a shoe. But it won’t last long when it dries and the wind picks up.” She pointed to the sand.
He pulled out his phone. “ETA?” he asked into it. His frown told her it would be a while.
Quinn replaced his phone and said, “There’s an accident on the freeway and they’re stuck in traffic.” He spun into the room and talked to Trent. He called on his walkie-talkie for someone to bring them contact paper.
Dela glanced around the room. “Take a photo of the suitcase and bring it out here. We can set it up as a windbreak until the contact paper gets here.”
Quinn handed out the emptied suitcase. Dela set it up against the balcony railing to hopefully keep the worst of any wind from shifting the sandy footprint.
When the contact paper arrived, Detective Stedman did the task of placing the paper ever so slowly down on top of the sand. He pressed systematically across the paper, picking up all the grains. When he had them all sticking to the paper, he turned it over and placed another clear piece on top to hold it all together. Then he wrote on the corner where and when he’d made the impression.
“You have a good eye, Dela,” the detective said once he had the imprint slid into an evidence bag.
“Thanks. I’ve looked over every inch of the room. I think I’ll take a walk over to the surveillance room and see if they’ve come up with anything.” She used the balcony to pull herself to her feet and didn’t miss the puzzlement on the detective’s face.
She had only one good leg to push to her feet. By using the railing, it helped her keep her balance. She’d learned early on in rehab to modify things to accommodate the prosthetic leg. She’d let him puzzle or ask Quinn. She didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes if she told him.
It was common knowledge at the Spotted Pony that she had lost a leg while in the Army and she didn’t let it stop her from doing her job or living a good life. But when she got around people she didn’t know, she couldn’t help but think they would treat her differently. Hell, Quinn did when he first found out. After showing she could still battle a crazy knife-wielding man, stop murderers, and shoot a man while being without her crutches and prosthesis, he’d gone back to treating her as he had before.
When she left the room, Trent was behind her.
“I’ll come too. They might not tell you anything,” he said.
“Did you talk to everyone in this hall?” she asked, thinking he hadn’t been gone from the room long enough to have taken more than one statement.
“There was only one person still in their room. The FBI agent said he’d have his people question everyone as they came back to their rooms.”
She nodded, lost in thought. She’d found important information looking around. Unless forensics found something like a hair, button, or jewelry came loose from the killer when he was strangling... She couldn’t continue that thought. It slowed her feet and she almost stumbled.
Trent caught her by the arm. “You okay? She was your friend, you could just go to your room and regroup,” he said, stopping her forward movement.
Dela shook her head. “I can’t stop and grieve. I need to stay focused on finding her killer. If I don’t, it will get filed as unknown. I know how little time a police force this small will put on the investigation.”
“You don’t trust the police to do their job?” he asked, staring at her.
“Not when it comes to a woman of color. No. I’ve seen too many women, children, and men who are missing or murdered and no one other than family ever goes looking for them or the killers.”
“You must be part of that Indian movement I’ve heard about.” He released her arm and started walking as if he thought the MMIW wasn’t worth his time.
“Yes, I believe in the movement. We have finally gotten more law enforcement agencies to take missing and murdered Indigenous people seriously. When we are a small part of the population and yet have the most deaths and violence per capita for our people, there is something wrong.”
Trent stopped. “Are those true facts?”
“Look it up if you don’t believe me.” She stomped past him and out onto the sidewalk alongside the building. She peered over at the casino a good two hundred yards away. Stepping down off the sidewalk onto the asphalt parking lot she headed in a straight line for the building.
“Wait up. We do have a shuttle,” Trent said, jogging up beside her.
“I’d rather walk.” She’d yet to get on the beach and if the only sea air she was able to inhale was walking between her room and the casino, then she would get the most of that she could. A thought struck her. She stopped. She hadn’t paid attention to the beach area that Rowena could see from her balcony. That might help them find a clue. Like had the dog been found in the vicinity of what Rowena had seen through her camera lens?
Trent realized she’d stopped after he’d taken ten steps. He faced her. “Now what?”
“I need to go back to Rowena’s room.” She did an about-face and headed back to the building.
“Why?” Trent caught up to her.
“I want to see if the dog was left within sight of Rowena’s view from her room.” Dela glanced at the guard. “Do you know where the stuffed animal was found?”
“I’ll call Sidney. I think she found it.” He pulled out his phone as they entered the building and rode the elevator to the second floor.
“What are you doing back here?” Quinn asked as Dela entered the room and walked out onto the balcony.
She breathed in the briny air and stood facing south. She pulled out her phone and started taking a video, moving slowly to the west and up the north beach.
Trent stopped beside her, holding his phone out to her. “This is where Sidney found the toy.”
Dela studied the photo and then the area she’d just videoed. “Did anyone search that area?” she asked as her gaze landed on the bush that was in the photo. She pointed. “There.” She turned to Quinn. “You need to have a forensic team go over that area. That isn’t a place where a grandfather would be playing with his grandson, but it would be a place to hide while waiting for someone.”
Quinn took a photo of the area and made a call. “How much longer until you arrive?”
Dela faced Trent. “You go check on the surveillance footage. I’m going to take a walk around down there.” She pointed to the area where the dog was found and the beach.
Trent nodded and left.
She caught Quinn by the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Check and see if any unauthorized boats were in this area yesterday. Rowena said she saw a boat close to the shoreline.”
“Don’t muck up any forensics when you go snooping around,” he said in return.
Dela glared, not at him just at his presence, and left the room. This time instead of heading across the parking lot, she walked the path between the buildings down toward the beach. She veered to the south and found the area she was interested in.
There wasn’t a path to the area, in fact from ground level it was more of an opening between some bushes. The area wasn’t meant for anyone to hang out in. The man who brought Asher here had to have scouted out the area and known it was a good place to hide from people walking the beach and walking to the beach.
To not mess up any footprints or possible evidence, Dela didn’t enter the little sanctuary. Instead, she walked around the outside of it and noted impressions in the loose sand leading to the beach that could have been footprints given the distance between them and the placement. Only large indentions. The man must have carried the boy.
She stood, peering out at the ocean. There were half a dozen rocks with waves splashing over and around them. The roar and whoosh of the water as it impacted the rocks made her shiver. How could a man with a child get beyond those rocks, walking into the power of the ocean?
Pulling out her phone, Dela typed Lincoln City tide chart in her browser. Yesterday the tide was at its lowest around 2:00 p.m. A glance at her watch showed she had an hour and fifty minutes before it would be low tide today. She’d go grab lunch and come back.
She walked down the beach, piecing together all she knew about the missing boy and the death of her friend. Before she even thought about it, her phone was in her hand and she heard Heath’s voice.
“You miss me so much you have to talk to me again,” he teased.
She stopped, stared at the ocean rolling in, and swallowed a sob. “She’s dead,” croaked through her constricted throat.