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SARAH RUSHED TO THE living room and clicked on the television, thumbing the remote for Channel Six, getting a used car dealer from Salem touting his bargains. At the knock on her front door, she crossed the room to the peephole, trying to keep her eye on the screen at the same time.
“It’s me.” Maggie’s voice came from behind the door.
Sarah unlocked the door for her neighbor. In her yellow terrycloth robe and slippers, Maggie bustled inside, her red Lucille Ball curls bobbing as she walked.
“What’s on the news?” Sarah asked. “Right now the station is in commercial mode.”
“There was something about a murder and Randy was there.”
Sarah heard “murder” and “Randy” and her heart ricocheted around her chest. “What?”
“I saw the trailer at the end of the last segment. That new reporter was out in the woods somewhere and she was with Randy. No sound, only that ‘stay tuned’ nonsense.”
Relief surged through her and Sarah sank to the couch, tugging her nightshirt over her knees. Neither woman spoke while the series of ads for everything from hair products to foot creams played out. When the familiar anchor desk set appeared, Sarah upped the volume.
“Back to our lead story. A body was discovered on the outskirts of Pine Hills. Channel Six’s own Penny Scholnik was on scene. Here is her report.”
The image shifted to a jerky panorama of a wooded expanse, bright lights and lots of police cars. Penny Scholnik looked nervous as she held a microphone to Randy’s face and asked about a serial killer.
“Serial killer?” Sarah gasped. “Here? In Pine Hills?”
“Shh,” Maggie said. “Listen.”
Sarah refocused her attention to Randy. Oh, she’d seen that look, although never from the receiving end. He was furious. Quickly, he rearranged his features into a neutral expression, but his anger at the reporter’s question was obvious to Sarah. He was in full-blown cop mode and someone was stepping into his territory.
Summarily dismissed by Randy’s words, Penny Scholnik faded off the screen and the anchorman promised to update viewers as the story unfolded. The broadcast moved on to reports of zoning disputes from Salem, where the news channel was based. Sarah surfed for a minute, but there was nothing more on the Pine Hills story. She switched off the set and stared at the blank screen.
“What do you think, Maggie?” If anyone could bring a sane and sensible approach to a crisis, it was her retired schoolteacher neighbor.
“I think little Penny what’s-her-name is an obnoxious twit who has no business carrying a microphone, that’s what I think.”
“So you don’t think there’s a serial killer in Pine Hills?” Sarah tossed the remote from hand to hand.
“Hogwash. You saw Randy’s face. Did he look like he was covering anything up?”
“No. He was pissed. Royally.”
“That he was. I’ll believe what the anchorman said. That they found a dead body out in the woods. Period. Nobody even said it was murder, much less a serial killer. The way I see it, if there was anything to worry about, Randy would have called you and told you to bar the door or get out of town.”
Sarah laughed. “Like he did when there was a peeping Tom across the way.”
Maggie stared at her.
“What?” Sarah asked.
“Sweetie, I think that’s the first time you’ve laughed at anything related to what happened to you. It looks like you’ve turned another corner. One of these days, you’ll even be able to talk about it for what it was.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Maggie gave her a look that was both stern and compassionate. Her schoolteacher stuff. Or was it surrogate mother, Maggie’s self-appointed role in life? “You keep referring to it as your ‘little adventure’. Child, you were kidnapped and could have been killed. That’s far beyond an adventure.”
“You have your ways to cope, I have mine, Maggie. I’m doing fine.”
Maggie leaned over and crushed Sarah into a bear hug, one it took effort to return. “It’s not fast and never easy, but I’m glad to see you’re moving forward. How are the nightmares?”
Much as she loved Maggie, Sarah didn’t have the energy to deal with her in mother-hen mode. “No problem,” she said, but her tone was curt. She got another look from Maggie, less compassionate this time. “All right,” she admitted. “I have them once in a while. But I wish you’d quit bringing it up. It’s over, it’s done, and Chris is in prison.”
“That he is, thanks to Randy,” Maggie said.
“I guess.” Her belly tightened. She dropped her gaze.
Maggie leaned forward and clutched Sarah’s hands. “Oh, my. My, my, my. What happened between you two?”
She tugged on her nightshirt. “Nothing. I’m just ... confused ... a little. If we’re serious about the relationship, he’s going to be called away like tonight all the time. I’m not sure that’s what I’m looking for.”
“Sarah Tucker, you listen to me. That man loves you and you love him. End of story.”
“I loved David, too. And his job wasn’t dangerous. We ran a boutique. If I let myself feel that much for Randy, what would it be like if I lost him, too? I don’t know if I could go through it again.”
Maggie gave Sarah a stare that must have chilled the bones of countless students. “Life has no promises. No guarantees.” Her eyes glistened. “Sweetie, if you don’t follow your heart, you’ll spend your life looking back and wondering what might have been. Trust me, you don’t want that. Randy’s good for you.”
“Why? You think I need someone to take care of me?” Sarah extracted her hands from Maggie’s grip.
“Of course not. But I do think you’re the kind of person who wants to share her life. With a partner, not a caretaker.”
“That’s part of the problem. Randy’s a cop. He’s used to being in charge.”
“Don’t be so quick to pigeonhole him,” Maggie said. “You’ve been apart for a while. Sometimes when you’re alone, your brain fills the empty places with what you need at the time, not what’s good in the long run. Don’t make any hasty decisions.”
Right now, she didn’t want to make any decisions. “I think it’s time you went home, Maggie. I have to get some sleep.”
Maggie narrowed her eyes, then stood and tightened the belt of her robe. “Lock the door behind me.”
Sarah heard hurt in Maggie’s tone, but couldn’t deal with it now. She walked Maggie to the door and threw the deadbolt. After a few deep breaths, she wandered into the bedroom and crawled into bed.
You get out of my head, Christopher Westmoreland. You’re in New Jersey, in prison and I’m fine. You can’t hurt me. You should be the one having nightmares, not me.
* * * * *
“YOU HAVE SOMETHING?” Randy asked Connor.
“Maybe.” Connor crouched to the ground about five feet from where the body had lain. With a gloved fingertip, he scraped at the dirt, revealing a metallic gleam. He snapped a few shots to document the finding.
“A key?” Randy said. “You think it belonged to the vic?”
“Might have,” Connor said. “If they stripped him here, it could have fallen out of a pocket.” He shot another picture, then lifted the key from the soil. He angled his flashlight for a better look. “Might have a partial. We’ll see what we get at the lab.”
“Maybe they’ll match the vic and that’s a start.” Randy crouched down and examined the small, flat key while Connor held it. “Safe deposit box? Mailbox?”
“I’m thinking padlock,” Connor said.
Randy rubbed his neck against the beginnings of a tension headache. “I’ll work my way outward with the metal detector. Kovak’s trying to figure out how they got the body in here.”
“Sounds good to me. Keep looking for a shell casing. Doc said her guess was a high-power rifle. I’ll work out in the other direction, check for anything out of place.”
Connor retreated and Randy settled the headphones over his ears.
An endless hour of listening to the beeping metal detector had netted four dollars and seventy-two cents in change, sixteen beer and soda cans, one silver chain, and a splitting headache. He doubted any of it was related to the crime, but he’d found them within the radius Connor had suggested as being most likely to have viable trace. But no shell casings. Whoever shot this guy probably watched too much television and took them with him.
Everything was photographed, bagged and tagged. He pulled the headphones from his ears and wiped his sleeve across his forehead. It took a minute for his hearing to readjust to the normal night noises. Tree branches creaked and leaves rustled, but he heard no animal sounds. Not unexpected. Between the banks of lights and the camera flashes, any self-respecting creature would have found a nice, dark hole to curl up in.
The sound of a car engine approached, stopped, followed by a door opening and closing. He turned. At last. The county CSI team was here. Connor was already approaching them.
Randy hastened to join the gathering of techs. “Glad to see you,” he said. “You know Mike Connor, right?”
The men nodded.
“I’d like to collect as much as we can tonight,” Randy said. “I’ll arrange to secure the scene, but it’s going to be tough to keep the entire property cordoned off. I appreciate the extra effort.”
The techs nodded, already looking around. Connor started explaining what they’d done and Randy heard them talking about alternative light sources and Luminol.
Randy pulled out his cell phone. His finger hovered over the speed dial button for Sarah, but he resisted. He’d probably wake her and hearing her voice would be too much of a distraction. He looked at the phone before clipping it back on his belt. When it rang, his heart jumped. He willed Sarah’s name to appear on the display. Instead, it was Charlotte’s.
“Doc. You find something already?”
“Not yet. I wanted to let you know I’m going to cut at eight tomorrow morning. This one’s moving to the head of the line. I’ll get the DNA out to the state lab with a priority rush.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ve got the prints into the system, too. If anything pops right away, I’ll call.”
“Another thanks.”
“Think nothing of it. Whodunits are the toughies, aren’t they? And until we know who this vic is, we’ve got a doozey.”
He thanked Charlotte and disconnected. For most crimes, the who did it was usually the easy part. Rival gang-bangers, jealous lovers, family members—people known to the victim. The challenge was making a case that would stand up in court. Knowing the victim gave you the starting circle of suspects. He hoped this would fall into that category. Solving a true whodunit where there were no clear suspects worked for mystery books. In real life, they too often stayed in the open files.
He caught a glimpse of Kovak talking to one of the county techs, most likely showing him what evidence he wanted collected, or at least where he thought would be the best place to look.
Connor came over, putting fresh batteries in his flashlight.
“How’s it going?” Randy asked.
“We’ll be awhile yet,” Connor said. “The vic wasn’t wearing shoes and there are some spots clear enough where we’ve got shoe prints, but none of bare feet.”
Randy considered that. “So, he was dressed when he got here.”
“Or someone carried him in and then shot him. But that seems like a lot of extra work.”
“The techs are processing the shoe prints. And maybe some facial bone fragments, if they can find them. A lot of leaves on the ground, though, and the wind was pretty strong last night.”
Randy blew out a slow breath and took one more look at the scene. “Damn. It’s not supposed to rain, is it?”
Connor shrugged. “Hey, this is Oregon. It could rain anytime.”
“Let’s hope this isn’t one of those times. With luck, we’ll get enough tonight, but plan on coming back tomorrow.”
“You’re the detective.”
Which meant he was in charge, but he also needed to work on the victim’s identity. “And you know your job.” Randy dragged his fingers through his hair. “What do you think?”
“How about we go out about ten feet, then if Kovak finds the entry point, we’ll work that way.”
Randy nodded. He respected the lab crew’s ability to know what was likely to be part of a crime scene and what was superfluous. He trained his light on the ground as he walked back to where Kovak was working. “Any luck?”
Kovak pointed to what looked like partial shoe prints and dislodged rocks and branches. “This is my best guess.”
“Why don’t you go hit the computers? I’ll meet you in the office.” He rotated his neck, working out the kinks. “I’ll update Brody and follow up with some of the neighbors.”
“He did okay for his first scene,” Kovak said. “You gonna keep him on all night? One officer isn’t going to be able to control the perimeter.”
They walked back to Kovak’s car while Randy thought about the size of the crime scene he’d taped, considering the options. “I’ll get a couple of uniforms from the night shift. Neville, if he’s on duty. He’s got that intimidation factor. And maybe having a cruiser parked out here will keep the rubberneckers away. Brody’s done enough for his first homicide scene.” And he wasn’t about to leave a rookie out here alone in case the killer came back.
Kovak nodded. “Probably save the kid a few nightmares, too. Nothing like being alone in the woods somewhere you’ve seen a dead body.”
“There is the scary movie factor, yes.”
“Right. See you later.” Kovak said.
“Hang on a sec.” Randy got into his truck and rummaged through his suitcase for the bag of designer coffee he’d bought for Kovak in San Francisco. If they were going to pull an all-nighter at the station, at least they wouldn’t be drinking sludge. “Here you go.”
Kovak’s eyes lit up. “Thanks, big guy.” He slid into his car and drove off.
Randy ran what he had through his head as he went to check on Brody. The key was a start. If they could tie it to the victim. On television, they’d take the key to the lab, stick it in a box, punch a button and in seconds, a computer would spit out what the damn thing unlocked and who owned it. Probably what he’d had for breakfast.
Why couldn’t it have been a wallet? A nice smooth leather wallet covered with prints and filled with ID.
Yeah, right.