Did you know Senator Wilde was going to the funeral tomorrow?” Dana asked on their drive home.
“I think Kevin said something about it. Dignitaries usually attend services like this. It’s their way of showing support for the troops.” Mac frowned. “By the way, I forgot to tell you—I’ll be standing in on the deathwatch, which means I have to leave tonight.”
“I talked to Kevin last night, and I’m standing in too.”
“Good. So we can still ride down together. I’ll pick you up at, say, seven. Maybe we can catch a bite on the way.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Dana sighed, “though I have to admit, I’m not too excited about driving five hours to Medford after this trip to Warm Springs. But at least we’ll be able to take turns driving.”
Before heading across the river to Vancouver, they looked up the name and address Nate had given them for Margaret Case’s daughter, Denise Galbraith. The place was close to the freeway, so they decided to pay a visit.
The house, situated in Gresham, was older, small, but nicely landscaped. The woman who answered had mocha skin and wore glasses. She wore her long, salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in a braid that reached the middle of her back.
They introduced themselves and were immediately ushered in. “I’ve been expecting you. Can I offer you anything to drink?”
“Water would be great.” They hadn’t stopped since leaving Warm Springs, and Mac felt nearly as parched as the desert itself. He blamed it on the lingering smoke from the forest fire.
“That sounds good to me too,” Dana said.
A corner of the living room had been converted to a craft area of sorts.
“I do beadwork,” Denise told them when she caught them looking. “My mother taught me.”
“On leather?” Dana asked.
“Sometimes. Mostly, though, I make and sell jewelry—necklaces, earrings. I do a lot with silver and turquoise. But I’m sure you’re not interested in all of that. You wanted to talk to me about Sara?”
“Yes, we do. Margaret Case was her grandmother, so I’m assuming you were Sara’s aunt.”
“That’s right.”
“Were you close?” Mac asked.
“I’m not sure how to answer that, Detective. After my sister and her husband died and Sara went to live with the Wildes, she rarely visited. Not like before.”
“Why would that be?”
“Perhaps we reminded her too much of her mother. The Wildes are very rich, and we . . .” She smiled. “We are not. I don’t think Sara ever really thought about it. She lost herself in the white world with too many things to do and too little time. The last time I saw her, outside of her wedding, was at my mother’s funeral.”
“Her cousin, Claire, said that she received an inheritance.”
“Yes. My mother listed a number of things that she wanted left to Sara. Some are very old and have been in the family for generations.”
“So they really are artifacts?” Mac asked.
“A few are. My mother was an artist much as I am. We’ve tried to preserve the old ways when we can.”
Mac signaled Dana to bring out the photos. “I’d like you to take a look at these pictures—see if you recognize the items.”
She looked over the photos and nodded. “I believe these were in the collection Sara received. I would have to see them up close to be sure. And the bag is torn—it wasn’t when we gave it to her. It’s one of the oldest pieces and can’t be replaced. How did this happen? And how did you come to have them?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.” Mac handed the photos back to Dana. “Officer Webb told us that you’d asked about Sara’s collection.”
“Yes. I don’t mean to sound callous, but they probably wouldn’t mean a lot to Scott or the Wildes. They were my mother’s and my sister’s. I realize they now belong to Scott, but I am hoping he’ll be willing to give them to me.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have any say in that.”
“I understand.” Her warm gaze swept over him and went to her hands.
“Do you have family, Mrs. Galbraith?” Mac felt uncomfortable with the woman’s request and wanted to move on.
“Yes. A grown son, Aaron. And a daughter who lives in Port Orchard. My husband died last year.Heart attack.”
“I’m sorry. Does your son live here with you?”
“He did this past winter. Aaron moved out a few months ago when he was laid off.”
“Where does he live now?”
“On the reservation. He’s staying with a friend. Got a temporary job at the casino at Warm Springs. He has a teaching certificate, so he’s hoping to get on at one of the schools this fall.”
“How does he feel about the casino being built in the gorge?”
She hesitated. “He believes it will help the schools and would like to see it pass. We both would. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious. My partner and I would like to talk with him, if he wouldn’t mind.”
“I’m sure he’d be happy to. Though he saw Sara less than I did, so I don’t know what he could tell you.”
“We need to talk to everyone who might have had a connection to Sara.”
Denise pushed herself out of the chair and went to the kitchen.
From a basket near the phone, she took out a pen and pad, on which she wrote her son’s name and phone number. “I can tell him you will call.”
“That would be fine.” Mac gave her a card. “We appreciate your being willing to talk with us. You’ve been a big help.”
AFTER DROPPING DANA OFF at her apartment, Mac went straight home to check on Lucy and talk to Carl. He then showered and packed before changing into his uniform. He’d have preferred driving in more comfortable clothes and changing once they reached Medford, but they were going straight to the deathwatch, and there might not be a place to change. Besides, he wanted to make sure he had everything he’d need.
The OSP dress uniform had remained the same since the 1930s, even though they had gone to a more functional uniform for day-today use. For occasions like the funeral, the members of the department would wear the uniform that the early troopers wore on duty every day. The current day ankle-length slacks and functional lace-up boots had taken the place of slacks that came just below the knee to meet the leather knee-high boots that were polished to a high gloss.
The uniform fit Mac a little more tightly than he remembered, giving evidence to the ten pounds that had slipped up on him over the past year or so. Their traditional dress uniform was built more for looks than comfort. Once he put on the heavy wool coat, the gun belt would be supported by the leather Sam Brown, which was clipped to the heavy-duty belt in the front and worn over the shoulder to be connected to the back of the belt.
He thought briefly about what it must have been like to work an entire career wearing this stiff uniform and to be in foot chases wearing these boots. Back in the old days, all three divisions of their department wore the uniform, even the investigators. That was back in the day when the only undercover work or covert operations being conducted were by the military or the federal government. Local and state cops were content to be a visible presence in their community, the uniform a symbol of their pride in their respective community.
So many things had changed, but the common elements had remained. The troopers in their department still took pride in their uniforms and in the role they played in their communities.
After checking a few e-mails, Mac headed over to pick up Dana.
As Mac walked up to her apartment, his stiff leather boots creaked. “Hey, partner,” he said when she opened the door. “How does it feel to be back in uniform?”
“Don’t ask.” Dana also had on her dress uniform, the same style Mac wore. On her, the dress blues looked professional and attractive.
“Ready to go?”
“Almost. I can’t get this stupid strap on.”
He took the Sam Brown strap from her. “It’s almost impossible to do this without help. I decided not to wear my jacket and gun belt until we got down there.”
“I wasn’t going to, either, but I didn’t want to take a half hour to dress in front of everyone when we got there. I can hook up the front if you can get the one in the back.”
Mac stood behind Dana, breathing in the subtle scent of her perfume and waiting for her to pass the strap over her left shoulder. He liked the scent and thought about telling her so, but didn’t. She might not take it the right way, and he definitely didn’t want her to get the wrong idea.
Mac lifted up on her gun belt slightly to secure the strap to her belt keeper, then let go and stepped back. “How’s that feel? Too heavy on your shoulder?”
Dana flexed her arm and then lifted it up to her shoulders. “It’s definitely not comfortable, but it will do. Thanks.”
As planned, after grabbing a light supper, they took turns driving and resting for the long trip. Around 1:00 a.m., they reached Central Point just outside of Medford, where they stopped at the OSP office to get directions to the high school where Trooper Revman’s body was being held. The two of them were scheduled to stand watch between two and two-thirty Wednesday morning. After getting instructions from the Honor Guard supervisor, they joined the other participants in the hallway just outside the gymnasium.
Shortly after two o’clock, the lieutenant supervising the event signaled for Mac. He slipped on his white cotton gloves and stood in the doorway to the auditorium. Then, after getting the nudge from the lieutenant, he began to march toward the stage area, where Trooper Revman’s flag-draped coffin sat in the center, flanked by two uniformed troopers that he didn’t know. He walked down the left side of the aisle, while a second trooper from another field office walked down the right side. It was their job to relieve the two troopers by the coffin and then stand their fifteen-minute watch. This had gone on for the past twelve hours and would continue throughout the ceremony the next day. Troopers from all over the state were participating in the traditional deathwatch.
Once he reached Daniel’s coffin, he came to attention in front of the trooper he was replacing, their felt campaign hats nearly touching. Mac slowly raised his right hand to his hat and lowered it in the traditional salute. The second trooper was dismissed to leave the room, then Mac performed an about-face and stood at attention.
Initially, Mac had thought that fifteen minutes was a relatively short time and had hoped for a longer watch. But by the time five minutes had passed, he was more than satisfied with the briefer time. Standing at attention next to Daniel’s coffin felt like an eternity. He went through a lifetime of memories and was glad to see Dana enter the room to relieve his post.
Fifteen minutes later, Dana met him in the waiting area, and they drove to their hotel and checked in.
“This is me.” Mac pointed toward his room.
“I’m a couple of doors down.” Dana motioned with her bag. “You want to grab breakfast or sleep in?”
“I think I’ll sleep in, if I can,” Mac slid the key card inside the door. “Just give me a call when you wake up.”
“Mac.” Dana lowered her bag to the floor, holding out her arms for a hug. “I know you would never initiate this, which I appreciate, but I think we could both use a hug right now.” As usual, she was right on. They hugged, like two old friends should at a time like this. Dana rubbed Mac’s arms as she stepped away. “Get some rest.” She turned and picked up her bag.
“You too.” Mac smiled and watched her enter her room. Then he went into his own.
The day had been long and tedious. It seemed days ago that they had talked with Therman Post, but it had only been about sixteen hours. Mac was glad he’d made the trip south for the watch and for the funeral tomorrow and even more pleased that Dana had come down with him. She didn’t have the same connection with Daniel and had come primarily to support him, and he appreciated that. The department didn’t pay overtime for these types of events, and the hotel costs would be coming out of their own pockets. So Mac didn’t take the gesture lightly. Dana was a good friend.