December 14th, 2016
Las Vegas, Nevada
Sarge was happy that after four days since the shootings, things had finally calmed down enough to be able to walk to breakfast again.
And both he and Pickett had helped each other through the nightmares of reliving that fight in that closed room.
It had taken them all the rest of the day and all the next day being interviewed to finally be done with the major investigation part of the fight. Of course, the department had their guns for the investigation, but they both had other guns, so neither of them had worried about that.
And since they were retired and it had clearly been a case of self-defense, the chief hadn’t even asked them to sit aside. Part of that had to do with them not officially being on the force as well. Insurance wasn’t an issue it seemed.
Poor Cavanaugh had found himself in a paperwork nightmare, as Sarge had known he would be. He had three assistants on it and it was still burying the poor guy.
Will and Robin’s people had once again swooped in to help Mike and his people, but they didn’t really need it. The house had secret security cameras and pretty much everything had been recorded, including the fight in the basement. That had helped a great deal.
It was two days ago that Robin had gotten permission to get the box of Darling Black letters. She had spent the last two days having them digitized and then running all sorts of comparisons with the columns, the letters, and the paperwork from the storage unit.
Melita and her husband had gone back to Portland and Mike was pretty convinced the men had been after the letters, not her. Neither Mike nor Melita would tell them how they knew each other. And after asking once, Sarge didn’t press. So much about what Mike did was behind the scenes. Better to not know.
At breakfast today Robin was going to tell them what she had found in the study of the letters, if anything.
But there were still so many questions. Where was Heather Winston? Who was the dead girl in the hotel room? And what was so important in that storage unit and those files that so far eight people had died, not counting the girl in the room and maybe the parents. Two at the storage unit, six in the house.
For Sarge, they still had a long way to go to get this case solved.
The December day was cold, but not biting. He liked the walk to the Nugget breakfast more in the winter than in the summer. The air had a cleaner smell to it, fresher.
He and Pickett had just turned onto Fremont Street when something occurred to him.
“Cabin in Big Bear,” he said.
Pickett glanced up at him, a puzzled look on her face.
“We need to check to see if the cabin at Big Bear that the parents had been at when they supposedly died was still in the family. Or maybe under another name.”
He had a hunch that if it was, they would find Heather there.
Pickett nodded. “That just might be possible.”
Before they even had a chance to sit down, Sarge told Robin his idea and she got on the phone to Will and his people.
Sarge and Pickett turned to get breakfast since the smell of ham and waffles this morning seemed even more wonderful than normal.
Pickett and Sarge were waiting for their omelets in the buffet area when Robin came over to them. “Cabin changed names three times over the years, but always from one corporation to another, owned by the same name. D. Black.”
“Not the Melita Darling Black?” Pickett asked, clearly as shocked at Sarge felt at the very idea.
“Nope,” Robin said.
“Thank heavens,” Sarge said.
“Checked that completely and it has nothing to do with Melita or any of her family. Got a hunch it is Heather, but all sales were done with cash, so nothing but the tax records are traceable.”
“She’s there,” Sarge said, nodding. “It would make sense.”
“But is she still alive?” Pickett asked.
Sarge had no idea the answer to that question, because it was clear that Bob Steven Winston had some pretty powerful backers. And since he failed, more than likely his wife, who had clearly been behind a lot of this, had failed as well.
Sarge heard himself think that, then realized how Bob Steven Winston and his men had gotten on Melita’s track. Heather had known who she was all along and where she had lived.
“I’m betting,” Sarge said, “that Heather is there and still calling the shots.”
“Mike?” Pickett asked.
“Mike and Cavanaugh,” Robin said. “Cavanaugh and a couple of men need to go with Mike to check that out. We don’t want Mike’s men out on a limb without official backup again in this case.”
Sarge agreed. “I’ll call Cavanaugh.”
“I’ll call Mike,” Robin said.
“And we’re not going?” Pickett asked.
Sarge laughed. “One gunfight for two retired cops is enough for one week, don’t you think?”
Pickett smiled. “I am in total agreement.”
Sarge laughed at the complete relief showing on Pickett’s face.
Twenty minutes later the three of them were eating breakfast while Mike and his men and Cavanaugh and two other detectives were headed to the cabin at Big Bear. Mike said their hope was to take her alive.
Sarge normally wanted to be on the front line, but after the fight four days ago, he just wanted her arrested if she was there.
And besides, they still didn’t know why all this was happening. And who that poor girl who got baked to death in that room was.
They had other work to do.