Dead in Her Tracks (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

S
heila blew her nose again. “This can’t be happening on Christmas.”

Zane agreed.

“I’ve known Bob for twenty years,” Sheila said in her chair across from Zane’s desk. “He was a lowlife and usually an asshole, but when my old Ford went into the ditch during an ice storm in ninety-six, he pulled me out. I’ll never forget it.” She looked hard at Zane. “There’s a tiny bit of good in everyone. Even killers.”

Zane nodded and held out the tissue box. Any soft spot he had for Bob Fletcher had vanished when the man admitted he’d killed Amber Lynn, but Zane wasn’t going to argue the point with Sheila. He knew he’d lose.

Did Bob kill Vanessa Phillips too?

“Tell me again what happened when you got here,” he said to Sheila. Stevie leaned against the door frame of his office, looking very un-cop-like in her boots, jeans, and reindeer sweater. She’d held her fingertips to her lips and then touched them to the photo of her father on the office wall. Big Bill Taylor deserved his place of honor, and Zane had a visual reminder to be the best possible police chief.

“Kenny left the door unlocked,” Sheila said with a stern look. “I’ve told him over and over, if he’s the last one out the door, he needs to lock it.”

“I suspect he was a bit distracted when he got the call about the death from the motel,” said Zane. “You know Kenny.”

Sheila sighed. “I do.” Her Christmas-light necklace twinkled nonstop, and Zane struggled to keep eye contact.

“Anyway, I knew Kenny wasn’t in the building . . . his patrol car was missing. So I came in and put a plate of cookies on his desk and started a fresh pot of coffee. I was about to put away the files left in the break room when I decided to say hello to Bob back in holding. It is Christmas
.
”

“You have a good heart,” said Stevie. “That was very kind of you.”

“I slid open the little peekaboo window in the door and saw he was on the floor in the cell.” She paused and took a deep breath. “There was blood everywhere. My first instinct was to rush in, but I stopped myself and yelled his name instead.” She wiped her eyes. “He didn’t move and so I called you.”

“You did the right thing,” said Zane.

“Maybe I could have stopped the bleeding if I’d gone right in.” Sheila blinked rapidly, holding back more tears. Her green eye shadow was the exact color of a ribbon he’d torn off a Christmas package that morning.

The medical examiner stepped in the room. “Nope,” Hank said. “Nothing you could have done. There’s no way that boy could have survived beyond a minute. Both his carotid arteries were sliced wide open.”

“Thank you, Hank.” Sheila stood and hugged the medical examiner. “That helps put my mind at ease.”

Hank’s face reddened as he patted her awkwardly on the back. He met Zane’s gaze, and Zane bit his cheek. He’d never seen the examiner at a loss for words.

“Sorry to keep you so busy on a holiday, Hank,” said Stevie. She squeezed Sheila’s hand as the thin woman excused herself and left the room, taking Zane’s Kleenex box with her.

“Can’t say I’ve ever had a holiday quite like this one,” admitted Hank, as he sat heavily in the chair that had been vacated by Sheila. “A long time ago Luke Jemmings shot his ex-wife and then turned the gun on himself on a Valentine’s Day. But I don’t consider that a real holiday.”

“Did Bob kill himself?” asked Zane. He hadn’t seen anything in the holding cell that Bob could have used to commit suicide, but he asked anyway, hoping Hank would answer in the positive, because Zane’s stomach churned when he considered the other option.

There was a second killer in Solitude.

Hank looked at him sharply. “That was no suicide. His neck was sliced from one side to another, and it was damned deep. You think someone could do that to himself? It takes a nasty-edged blade with a lot of strength behind it to cut through those tissues.”

“Shit.” Zane’s heart sank. Stevie met his gaze and gave a small nod. They’d both believed someone had murdered the man, but he had wished . . .

“We’d hoped that he’d somehow done it himself,” said Stevie, leaving her post against the wall to sit on the edge of Zane’s desk and face the medical examiner. “This means that someone got into the holding cell and murdered him right under our noses.”

“No weapon left behind?” Hank asked.

“We haven’t found one,” said Stevie.

“What about cameras in here?” asked Hank.

Zane shook his head. “If we had cameras, I’d have nonstop footage of Sheila typing and answering the phone. Nothing ever happens inside here. Until today. Kenny was on duty this morning, but he got called out to the Wayward Motel when Vanessa Phillips was found.”

“Kenny called in a few minutes ago,” Stevie said. “The morgue wagon finally arrived at the motel to remove Vanessa, so he should be here soon.”

“Well, someone got in, took care of Bob, and left with the knife,” stated Hank. “I heard Sheila say the front door was unlocked. I suppose Kenny’s going to get some tough questions from you, Zane.” Hank pushed out of his seat. “I need to get moving. I’ll take a closer look at your two victims tomorrow morning, but first I need to get out to the county hospital.”

“Everything all right?” asked Stevie.

“Yep, every year I play Santa for the kids who are stuck there over the holidays. I better get moving before I’m too late.”

Zane blinked.
How does the man go from seeing two murder victims to handing out gifts to children?

Hank met his gaze and gave a half smile. “I’ve gotten used to it,” he said, as if reading Zane’s thoughts. “I leave my work at the office or else I have no life. Seeing those happy faces is something I look forward to every Christmas. It’s good for my old, cranky soul.”

“Bless you, Hank.” Stevie’s eyes were damp.

Zane stood and held out his hand, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. Hank shook it and vanished.

“I didn’t know he did that,” said Stevie. “We should see if there’s something the police department can do during the holidays. I’ll get my mother to ask around for us. Heck, she’ll probably find us elf jobs for next year.”

The front door slammed. “Zane?” Kenny’s voice was an octave too high.

“Back here!” Zane exchanged a glance with Stevie. She and Kenny had gone to high school together, and she regarded him as a sort of gentle pet that needed occasional encouragement and dating advice. Her lips were pressed together, her dark gaze serious, and Zane knew Kenny wouldn’t get any slack from her.

Good.
Zane wanted answers.

Loud boots clomped down the hall, and Kenny burst into the office, his lean face horrified. “I locked the door, Zane. I swear I did!”

“Someone got in, Kenny. Did you see anyone near the building before you left?” Zane asked.

“Sheesh, I don’t know. I was thinking about getting out to the motel. It’s not very often that we get a call like that. I know I locked the door, because I forgot at first. I’d driven a hundred yards down Main when I heard Sheila’s voice in my head about the door. She’s always harping on me about it. I turned around and came back, locked it, and headed out to the motel.”

Stevie met Zane’s gaze.
Was he initially gone long enough for someone to get in?

“You didn’t go back inside our building after you turned around?” Zane asked.

“I wasn’t gone thirty seconds. I didn’t even turn off my car. I just ran up and locked the door, then jumped back in.” His eyes widened. “I wasn’t out of the car for more than five seconds, Zane.”

Zane had a strict rule about getting out of a patrol car with the motor running. “I’m not concerned about that right now, Kenny. But don’t do it again.”

“Did you check on Bob before you left?” Stevie asked.

“I did.” Kenny nodded vigorously. “I told him I had to run out for a bit. He told me to fuck off, so I know he was fine.” Shock crossed his face. “Oh my God. This is all my fault, isn’t it? If I hadn’t left, Bob would still be alive.”

“It’s not your fault, Kenny. I don’t think this person would have let you stand in their way. You might have been killed too. What time did the call from the motel come in?”

“I logged the call just after ten,” said Kenny. “And I left within a few minutes of that.”

“Does anyone on this street have cameras?” Zane asked with a bit of exasperation, already knowing the answer.

“Not that I’m aware of,” said Kenny. “Too expensive, and you know as well as I do that not enough happens around here to warrant that sort of expense.”

Zane did know that. He’d never lived in such a quiet little town until he joined the Solitude PD five years earlier.

But three murders within a few days of one another? His gut said that Bob had killed both women, but who would dare sneak into the police station to kill Bob?

One of the victims’ unhappy family members?

“Someone was waiting and watching,” Stevie commented. “Bob was just processed yesterday. They didn’t have to wait too long.”

“Shit. I’m glad Sheila wasn’t here alone,” said Zane.

“Sheila can take care of herself,” said Kenny. “You know she keeps a .38 in her top drawer, right?”

“Very true,” said Zane. Kenny had a point. Zane had heard about Sheila’s sharp skills on the firing range, but that didn’t mean she would fire at another human. Especially one she knew.

“I saw the fingerprinting dust on the door handles out front,” said Kenny. “You’ve already collected the evidence?”

“I have,” said Stevie. “Zane was interviewing Sheila. Did you tell the morgue wagon driver we needed them here after they removed Vanessa from the motel? Hank is already finished with Bob.”

“They’re out front,” Kenny said. He looked at his feet. “How bad is . . . Bob?”

Zane studied the cop. Kenny was only five years younger than he was, but sometimes it felt like twenty. Right now he looked like a kid who just realized he’d forgotten to feed his dog for three days. “Pretty bad, Kenny. I don’t see any reason you need to go in there.”

“Am I on suspension, Zane?” Kenny peered at Zane as if afraid to make eye contact. “I understand if that’s what you need to do.”

Punishing Kenny would be like kicking that hungry dog. Zane silently sighed. “Seeing as you did lock the door, I don’t need to suspend you. I’m not happy that you left your patrol car running, but not enough to dismiss you for a few days.”

He didn’t have the manpower to cover Kenny’s shifts.

Kenny’s shoulders slumped. “Thanks, Zane.”

Voices sounded in the front lobby. The morgue crew. Zane stood. Time to get something done. He had too many murders on his desk.

“Can you supervise the removal?” he asked Stevie. She nodded and headed to the lobby.

“You know Amber Lynn’s parents?” Zane asked Kenny.

“Yep. Dana and Tony. He’s the stepdad, I believe. He’s been in a few times. Usually on a drunk and disorderly.”

“We have his prints?”

“No doubt,” said Kenny. “He’s a hothead. You think he killed Bob?” His voice cracked as his eyes grew wide.

Zane counted to ten. “I don’t know. Bob killed their daughter, so I’ll be talking with them. But first I need to call the police department of Vanessa Phillips’s hometown and have them notify her parents.”

It was a phone call he didn’t want to make. Christmas would never be the same for Vanessa Phillips’s family.

Late that evening Stevie looked up from Sheila’s desk as her brother James stepped through the front door of the police station. His expression rivaled one of Ebenezer Scrooge’s.

“What the hell is going on, Stevie?” James said. He stomped the snow off his boots and unwrapped his scarf. “It’s Christmas.”

“I know.” The morgue crew had finally removed Bob’s body, and she’d spent a few hours collecting more evidence and cleaning up the holding cell. It’d been too much blood for her stomach. The human body could hold a lot of blood and it appeared most of Bob’s had ended up on the floor. Her happy, family-filled morning felt like it had occurred months ago.

“Six townspeople have called me,” James stated. “I’ve tried to control the gossip, but you know how it gets. One of them said they heard the girl at the hotel was killed in a satanic ritual.” He rolled his eyes. “You should have heard him. He was more upset that I’d allowed the occult in our town instead of expressing some concern for that girl and her family. No family needs this to happen on any day, especially Christmas.”

“I hope you set him straight, Mr. Mayor.”

“Damn right I did.” Her brother paused and took a deep breath. “Tell me what happened.”

Stevie gave him an abbreviated version of the deaths.

“You said Vanessa Phillips was from the coast? And attended college up in Eugene?” he asked.

“Graduate studies in fish and wildlife.”

“Why was she staying at the Wayward Motel?” James shook his head. “That’s not a good place for a single female.”

“I can understand her stopping for one night if she was on a tight budget,” said Stevie. “But why four? Her parents live less than an hour from here. She could have made it home in one trip.”

“Maybe she’d planned to visit the fish hatchery up the river or do some sort of research. This would be the right location for her area of study,” said James. “I assume you asked Charlie if she was alone?”