Mac awoke to the phone ringing and rolled over to grab the phone from the nightstand. He groped around and eventually realized that he wasn’t at home, and the ringing was coming from the desk on the other side of the room. He yawned and glanced over at the clock. It was after nine.
Mac picked up the receiver and peered out the curtains at the bright sunlight. The thick drapery had kept the room dark as a crypt. “Hi.”
“You hungry?” Dana asked.
“Yeah, I could eat. Are you already dressed?”
“Yeah. I’ve been up for an hour. I woke you up, right?”
“Not exactly. I had to get up to answer the phone.” Mac let go of the drapes, noticing he was holding them a little too far apart for his current attire.
“I’m sorry, Mac. You can go back to bed if you want.” “No, that’s OK. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll get dressed.
There’s a restaurant here in the hotel. We can grab something there.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
Mac patted his stomach, making a mental note not to eat too big a breakfast. The uniform was a little too tight already. He remembered that when he’d first worn the dress uniform, he actually had to wear his bulletproof vest under his jacket to make it fit better. He really needed to lose some serious weight. He got dressed and met Dana down in the lobby. She was wearing sweats and wore her hair up in a ponytail.
After ordering, Dana picked up her coffee and sipped it. “We may have a discrepancy in Scott Watson’s timelines between the two interviews.”
“What?” Mac had been staring out the window. “You brought the files with you?”
She shrugged. “I thought I might have some time to go through them. I couldn’t get to sleep right away last night, so . . .”
Mac felt a little guilty. He hadn’t brought anything and hadn’t even thought about the case. “What inconsistencies?”
“Nothing major, but something we need to address. Scott told the FBI investigators he was interrupted from his meeting by his secretary. You know, when she gave him the message that Sara had called about her car. But he told us that he didn’t get the message until he was out of the meeting after the day-care provider called him. It could be something or nothing at all.
“You’re right. We need to check it out.”
“I’m anxious to get that list of possible suspects from Nate. That’s an angle we need to pursue. There’s a lot of money at stake, and that equals motive.”
“Hmm.” Mac sipped on his coffee. Strong, hot, and black. He needed the caffeine this morning, for sure.
“I think we should make another run out to Warm Springs.” She leaned back as the waitress brought their meals. “I’d like to find out more about Margaret’s grandson. There might be some jealousy on his part. Sara’s rich, and he’s without a job. Maybe he went to her house to confront her about the artifacts their grandmother gave her. Or maybe she caught him stealing them.”
“Possible, but he wouldn’t need to break into her car to get the address.”
“Maybe he wanted it to look like a random act. Shoving that beaded bag into her mouth seems like an act of revenge.”
Mac spread some salsa on his omelet. “Maybe, but if it was an artifact and worth a lot of money,why do that? I’d like Nate to handle the interview with Aaron and some of the others. Remember, we have no police authority there.”
She didn’t seem happy about the idea. “I suppose you’re right. He can tell us if the guy needs to be investigated more thoroughly.”
“We can trust Nate, Dana. I’m sure of that. He’s in a better position. The FBI couldn’t even secure an interview with Therman Post, and Nate was able to get an interview in less than a day.” Mac thought about the little girl in the park and the chilly reception he’d gotten from the older woman. They might get the same reception from others. “I think we can trust Nate to do right by us.”
“You have a point. It’s just that I—I mean, I know we need to be here for the funeral, but the case is already cold, and Sara’s killer is still out there. We were fortunate to find these leads. I wonder if the feds even realized Sara had a history with the Warm Springs tribe.”
“I know what you mean, but we need to get through this funeral today, and tomorrow we’ll be in Salem all day. Nate can save us some time by covering for us on Aaron Galbraith and any of the others on Therman’s list.” He tackled his ham-and-cheese omelet.
AFTER BREAKFAST, they returned to their rooms and prepared for the actual funeral. They met in the lobby and then drove over to the high school, where troopers were still participating in the death- watch. As the time for the ceremony approached, Mac and Dana stood in formation with several hundred members of their department. They made an impressive sight. Officers from all over the country, and even some Royal Canadian Mounted Police in their brilliant red uniforms, stood in formation in another part of the parking lot. Members of the Central Point office stood alone in front. This was the office where Daniel had worked, and by tradition they would be the first seated in the auditorium.
By the time Mac and Dana entered to be seated, there were more than two thousand officers in the room. While watching the officers funnel through the door, Mac spotted Nathan Webb. Seeing all of the officers gave Mac a sense of pride. He’d done well in choosing law enforcement as a career. No matter what part of the country you came from, you were a member of a unique brotherhood.
“That’s Senator Wilde down there.” Dana pointed down into the crowd.
“Where?” Mac squinted at the line of dignitaries toward the front.
“Down there, three seats to the left of the governor.”
“I see him.” He wore a gray suit and was seated in the front row in an area reserved for family members and VIPs.
The funeral service began as the department chaplain offered an opening prayer while everyone stood at their seats. After the prayer, Daniel’s wife was led into the service by their department head. Tears smeared Mac’s vision. This was the hardest part.
When Jennifer had been seated, the chaplain offered one more prayer. The bagpipers played “Amazing Grace” as they entered the auditorium, followed by the Honor Guard, who would be carrying the coffin to the awaiting motorcade after the service. The flag-draped coffin was still in the front of the room, where it would remain throughout the rest of the ceremony. Flag bearers entered the room, and behind them came the professional drill team, the finest in the state. Many of them were prior military. The troopers on the drill team practiced regularly for these events, which, thankfully, were infrequent.
At the end of the service, the Honor Guard carried the coffin from the room and placed it in the back of a hearse for the motorcade trip to the gravesite. Following tradition, before anyone left the service,Trooper Revman’s radio number was broadcast over a loudspeaker.
A dispatcher called out his number. “Thirty-one thirty-four.” Except for an occasional sob, everyone maintained silence.
“Thirty-one thirty-four,” the dispatcher called out again.
“Thirty-one thirty-four.” The final call was given.“Gone but not forgotten.”
Most attendees in the room, who had been to a police funeral, knew this statement marked the end of the service. Mac and Dana stood and began the slow trip to the car, wading through the crowd of mourners.
Hundreds of police cars, fire trucks, and ambulances led the solemn motorcade to the gravesite. The local streets were closed to allow the vehicles to travel in procession, each with a wailing siren and emergency lights activated. Once the motorcade arrived at the gravesite, the mourners gathered on the grass to pay their last respects. A lone bugler played taps in the distance, followed by a volley of shots from the Honor Guard.
When Daniel’s body was lowered into the ground, most of the troopers, even those who rarely cried, fought tears. Mac pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose.
Then it was over. Mac tipped his head back, relieved to have some closure.
On the way to his car, Mac spotted Senator Wilde and pointed him out to Dana.
“Want to say hello?” Dana asked.
“Sure, why not? But I don’t want to get into an interview with him. Let’s just say hi and firm up our plans for tomorrow. I’m not in the investigative mood right now.”
“You and me both.”
“Senator Wilde?” Mac said as they approached the man.
“Yes.” His questioning gaze darted from Mac to Dana.
“Senator Wilde, I’m Detective Mac McAllister and this is Detective Dana Bennett. We are the investigators on Sara’s case.”
“Yes, I recognize you. You were at Sara’s house the day she disappeared.” He shook hands with each of them.
“Excuse me,” a smaller man interrupted. “I believe you have an appointment tomorrow at nine, yes?”
“And you are?” Mac asked, irritated by the man’s brusqueness.
“Grant Stokely. The senator doesn’t have time to talk with you now, so if you’ll excuse us . . .”
“We saw the senator and thought we would introduce ourselves.” Mac held his ground.
“As I told your sergeant, no one speaks to the senator without going through me first. The senator is a busy man. We’ll see you tomorrow at nine.” Stokely lead the senator toward the line of sleek black limousines.
The senator looked as though he wanted to say something, but a reporter chose that moment to shove a microphone in his face, so he complied. He shook hands with a number of people and told the reporter how sorry he was to have lost Trooper Revman and how the Oregon State Police were doing a great job and how he wanted to alter the budget so they could hire new troopers.
“That Stokely’s a piece of work.” Dana set her hands on her hips.
“Yeah.” Mac watched in disbelief as Stokely arranged for the photographer to take pictures of the senator and Daniel’s widow. She was still holding the burial flag in her arms, folded in a neat triangle by the Honor Guard.
He hadn’t been in the mood to investigate the murder moments ago, but he was now. He couldn’t wait for their interview with the famous senator. Mac put a hand to Dana’s back. “Come on, let’s get home.”