Back in Wasilla, Stone turned onto his quiet street. At this time of night your average citizen was in bed. He slammed the door of his vehicle and the sound echoed. He heard a dog barking in the distance. Living in the city proper, he had all the modern conveniences that Annie didn’t, like electricity.
His porch light was on a timer so he was able to see to unlock his door. Naturally she had been on his mind all the way home and one thing had become abundantly clear: he didn’t like the idea of her living so far from civilization. Alone.
After he opened the door, he flicked on the light and tossed his keys into a bowl nearby. His father had died of liver disease ten years ago and his mother not long after. When Stone inherited the two-bedroom house, it was little more than a shack in his mind.
He’d seriously thought about torching the place in the hope that his memories of living there burned along with it. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead he tore the place down to the bare bones and rebuilt it. All those summers working construction had really paid off. The floor plan may still be the same, but that was the only similarity. This home was completely his, and his alone.
He stoked the wood stove in the main room. To keep his pipes from freezing he’d installed an outdoor wood burner to keep the fire going throughout the day. It only needed to be filled once, maybe twice a day tops. He then went to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. He had work to do and it was going to be a long night. He removed his outerwear and headed to his office to boot up the computer. First thing he did was pull up the crime scene photos. He needed a decent shot of the victim’s face. He found it and blew it up.
He signed into NCIC, National Crime Information Center, the FBI’s computerized index of criminal justice information, which included criminal record history information, fugitives, stolen properties, and missing persons. It was available to all law enforcement and criminal justice agencies.
A couple of hours later, he was 98 percent certain he’d found his vic. Her name was Allison Monroe, age twenty-five. She lived in Wasilla and worked at the Denali Alaskan Federal Credit Union. She had gone missing last Friday night. Stone emailed Walt the file. He’d take care of the identification process.
The following day, Stone was at his desk when Walt called to confirm the vic’s identity. He informed him that he hadn’t yet performed the autopsy and asked if he should notify Stone when he was ready? Stone declined. Normally he attended every autopsy, but the weather they’d been having lately was too unpredictable and another big storm was heading their way. He couldn’t afford to lose that much time at this juncture of the investigation. The first forty-eight hours were critical.
Although Anchorage was only forty-two miles north of Wasilla, depending on weather conditions and traffic, the trip could take anywhere from an hour and a half to two hours each way. You could kiss that good-bye if there was an accident, as then it could take as long as three or more hours.
Worse yet would be if an avalanche closed the highway. Then it might take days before it was cleared and open again. He couldn’t take that risk. No, he’d stay here and continue working the case. He could read the written report. If something important came up, Walt would call.
The second he hung up the phone he got busy on the warrant for Allison Monroe’s residence. It was mid-afternoon when he and the crew arrived at her apartment. Her roommate, Candy Attwood, let them in. Stone moved about the place without speaking; he was getting a sense of the woman. Everyone knew his process and left him to it. To solve a murder, he needed to get to know the victim in life. What kind of woman was she? What were her secrets and did they get her killed?
Once through the joint living quarters, he asked which room was Allison’s. He stepped in a few feet and stopped. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Her perfume had green bottom notes. He sniffed the air again. The top notes were rose, jasmine and… he inhaled again, orange blossom. He heard heavy footfalls in the apartment above. The sound of items shuffling and voices murmuring came from the other side of the dwelling. The team was hard at work.
Opening his eyes, he viewed a tidy room with basic décor; this woman was not into frills. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves as he strode over to a desk resting under the window. A laptop, a statue of a raven and a framed photograph decorated the space.
He lifted the bird to inspect it further. It stood about five inches tall, intricately carved in wood and painted with a shiny black lacquer. Fine craftsmanship. He set it down and moved onto the picture. The vic stood alongside a man; each held a pair of snow skis and smiled broadly at the camera.
He walked over to the closet and sifted through the clothes, basically conservative. Work. The shirts were no-nonsense. He came across a couple of dresses; one with a plunging neckline, the other looked like shrink wrap.
Not work.
The floor revealed a single pair of black heels, a couple pairs of flats, hiking boots and athletic shoes.
Not a slave to fashion.
He wandered over to the dresser and gazed at the contents on top. He opened a decorative box and found several pairs of small earrings. He picked up another photo. Allison alone in a kayak, on the water, waving.
She was athletic and enjoyed the outdoors.
He began sifting through the drawers; jeans, flannel shirts, sweaters, pajamas, a couple of bras and cotton panties.
No sexy lingerie, into comfort, not impressing anyone.
After the clothes, he inspected the drawers on all sides.
Nothing hidden.
He pulled back the covers on the bed and tossed the pillows. He lifted the mattress. He checked under the bed. No secrets here. He turned to find Dave standing in the doorway.
“Okay, take the laptop. The trash in that can.” Stone pointed to the other side of the desk. “Search the books to make sure there isn’t anything hidden in the pages and go through the closet with a fine tooth comb. Most importantly, find her bills, her paperwork. We need everything you can locate on her car; insurance, loan documents, then put a BOLO out on the vehicle. Also get her cell phone number and request her records.”
“Sure thing, Stone.” Dave’s head turned. “Casey, I could use your help.”
Next he found Hank in the bathroom inspecting the medicine cabinet. “How’s it going in here?”
“Almost done. Nothing stronger than aspirin,” he said, over his shoulder.
“Okay. Has anyone done the freezer yet?” A lot of people hid things in the freezer from would-be robbers, not knowing that’s one of the first places they search for money.
Cold hard cash.
Hank shrugged. “I don’t think so.”
“Then when you’re done here, check it out.”
“You got it.”
Stone left him to it and joined Candy Attwood in the living room. Her eyes were red and swollen, her skin blotchy. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” She blew her nose.
He pulled out his pen and pad. “How long have you known Allison?”
“Just a couple of years. She answered an ad I’d placed on Craigslist to rent a room.”
“So you were basically strangers?”
“Yes, but that didn’t last long. She’s so sweet.” A tear slipped from her eye.
“Did the two of you become close?”
She nodded vigorously. “The best of friends. She moved here from Anchorage because she hated living in a big city and wanted the feel of a small town.”
“With a population under ten thousand, Wasilla would count as small compared to Anchorage, but it’s the sixth largest city in Alaska. There are a lot of smaller towns in the Mat-Su Borough. Why here?”
“She sent resumes all over, but this is where she found a job. She lived in town because she’s super responsible. She’s one of those people who think if you arrive on time, you’re late. She didn’t want to take a chance on being detained because of bad weather.
“She also had to live in civilization, as she calls it.” She grinned. “For the selection of drive-thru restaurants. She can’t cook to save her life.” Her lips drew a straight line. Stone caught the unfortunate turn of phrase, save her life, and certainly Candy did as well.
He jumped in quickly to change the subject. “I noticed a couple of photographs in her bedroom. She appeared to enjoy the outdoors.”
“Oh, yes.” Her face brightened again. “Skiing, cross country as well as downhill, kayaking and hiking. I introduced her to four wheeling and created a monster.” A giggle escaped. “She begs to go every chance she gets. There’s a bunch of trails near my parents’ house.” She was talking about her friend in the present tense. Her death had yet to sink in.
“The guy in the picture, is he her boyfriend?”
“Fiancé. He was a climber who died in an avalanche before she moved here. I never met him.”
“Tough break. Did she have a boyfriend?”
“No. She was still getting over Jeremy.”
“Was there anyone paying unwanted attention to her?”
“I don’t think so.” Candy looked at the ceiling while she mulled it over, then back at Stone. “No. She would have told me.”
“Did she have any enemies, or trouble with say, someone from work?”
“No. Everyone loved her.” She paused. “Well, there was this one girl at the credit union who was pissed because Allison got promoted over her to Operations Manager. She just assumed she’d get the job because she’d worked there longer than anyone else. But that was months ago. Nothing recent.”
“Do you know this woman’s name?”
“Kat. Allison referred to her as Kitty. I mean seriously, why not go by Kathy, Katy or just plain Kate? There are several derivatives of Katherine that would be better, instead she chose Kat. Oh, please. How cutesy can you get?”
Stone wrote the name down. “Did Allison call her Kitty to her face to antagonize her?”
“God, no. Just with me. She’s super professional. I’m sure that’s why she got the job over anyone else.”
While they spoke, officers passed through the room carrying evidence bags.
“Did Allison mention that she felt as if she were being followed?”
“No.” Her eyes suddenly went wide. “You don’t think this guy knows where she lives, do you? Am I in danger?”
“It is possible. To be on the safe side, is there somewhere else you can stay until we catch him?”
“My parents live just outside of town.”
“Good. Let me have the address and your phone number in case I have any more questions.” He wrote them down. “Where was she going the night she disappeared?”
“I don’t know that she was going anywhere. I mean she called and said she’d be late, but that wasn’t unusual. Sometimes a teller had a problem balancing her drawer and she had to stay until the mistake was found.”
“Certainly that didn’t take all night.”
“No, but when they had an especially brutal day, they would all go to The Hacienda and drink margaritas. Since it was Friday, I just figured that’s what she’d done.”
“When did you realize she was missing?”
“Her boss called Saturday morning. Ally was supposed to open, but she hadn’t shown up. I ran into her bedroom to see if she’d overslept, but her bed was made. She wasn’t in the apartment.”
“Maybe she went home with someone from the bar?”
She shook her head. “Ally wouldn’t do that.”
“How do you know?”
“It wasn’t her style, trust me.”
“Maybe she got drunk and decided to sow her wild oats.”
“Ally didn’t get drunk, ever. One drink was her limit. Besides, she had to work the next day. Like I said, she was really anal about that kind of stuff.”
“Okay. Why don’t you gather up your things. We’ll be here for awhile longer and will lock up when we leave.” He handed her a card. “Please call if you think of anything else.”
She took the card as she stood. Without another word, she disappeared from sight. Stone found Dave still in the bedroom. “Did you find anything?”
He showed Stone the files in his gloved hand. “I located the paperwork you requested in a box in the closet. Put out that BOLO on the car and called Verizon to request her cell phone records.”
“Good job. You didn’t by chance find a journal or a diary, did you?”
“Nope. You’re shit out of luck.”
“Yeah, that about sums it up. Okay, give me the number and I’ll see if they can find her phone by pinging the nearest cell tower.”
Dave pulled out the bill and recited it to Stone while he wrote it down. “Thanks.”
“No sign of a struggle anywhere in the apartment. Hank and Dale have been talking to the neighbors, and so far, no one witnessed anything suspicious. No strange cars parked outside. They all say the same thing; the girls were well liked, quiet, no parties, no fighting.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think the perp grabbed her here. Her purse and car are missing and the roommate confirms she never made it home that night.”