Walleye Junction (34 page)

“We've never had you over for Thanksgiving.”

“An oversight that I'm hoping will be corrected this coming November.”

“Duly noted. So what news from the impound lot? Did you get a chance to have a look at Joel Edwards's car?”

Ryan retrieved a file from his bag and smacked it down on the table in front of Macy.

“If we don't start dealing with a better class of criminal I swear I'm quitting,” he said. “The man's car was a hellhole. He lived like a pig.”

“He was homeless,” said Macy. “I'm sure he did the best he could.” She flipped through the file before setting it aside. “I don't have time to read the whole thing. Did you find anything I can use?”

Ryan set a plastic evidence bag out in front of her. It contained Philip Long's business card, which had been checked for fingerprints.

“This doesn't prove they actually met, but I found Philip Long's business card in Joel's car. Both their prints are on it.”

Macy noticed Gina was standing in the open door and held up the card for her to see.

“What do you think?” said Macy. “Did Philip and Joel actually meet?”

Gina nodded. “Your contact down at the homeless camp seems to think so.”

Ryan cracked a smile. “Oh, Macy, you do move in interesting circles.”

Macy ignored him. “You spoke to Mike Samson?”

Gina came in and leaned against the wall. “He says he introduced Philip Long to Joel Edwards.”

“Well, that trumps my business card discovery,” said Ryan, pushing his chair away from the table. “I have a ton of paperwork to get through, so if you don't mind I'm going to find a quiet cafe.”

“Call me if anything comes up,” said Macy.

“I'd rather invite you out for a drink,” he said as he headed out the door. “If anyone is interested, I'll be at the hotel bar at eight.”

“You have to admire Ryan's energy,” said Macy.

“A fluffy pink bunny comes to mind every time I see him.” Gina took the seat Ryan had vacated. “Philip Long was seen at the homeless camp about a month ago looking for Edwards. They talked for about an hour, but when Mike asked Edwards about it, all Edwards would say was that it was about his sister.”

“The same sister who died of an overdose?”

“I assume so. Are you thinking she might be on the list we were sent?”

“I don't remember seeing anyone named Edwards, but she may have been listed under a married name.”

Gina sifted through the files laid out on the table until she found the information they needed on Joel Edwards. “Does Wendy Martin ring a bell?”

Macy grabbed the e-mail she had been reading earlier.

“It certainly does,” said Macy. She flipped through the pages of the first anonymous e-mail they received. “I found her.”

*   *   *

Joel Edwards's sister Wendy had only been thirty-five years old when she passed away.

 

Wendy Edwards Martin was severely injured in a car accident. Following lifesaving surgery and several follow-up operations that included skin grafts, fusing two of her vertebrae, and facial reconstruction, she was in constant pain. As a last resort Dr. Whitaker prescribed fentanyl patches. Wendy was grateful as it was the first time she was pain free since the accident. Three months later she went for a routine appointment in Dr. Whitaker's clinic. On her way home she filled prescriptions for Xanax and hydrocodone at her local pharmacy. Later that same day she was found dead on the living room sofa. According to the coroner's report there were high levels of Xanax, fentanyl, and hydrocodone in her system.

“Do you think Joel Edwards went to the clinic to confront Dr. Whitaker about his sister's death?” asked Gina.

“I haven't seen the witness statements yet, so I have no idea what was said.”

“I'll give Lou a quick call and see if he knows anything.”

Macy scrolled through her unopened e-mails, stopping when she saw that she'd been sent a video link from the clinic's security cameras. She opened it and watched. The sound was too distorted to make out what was being said. She could see Joel and Dr. Whitaker at the top right corner of the screen. It looked as if they were arguing.

Gina put down the phone. “The receptionist was the only one in the waiting room with Edwards and Whitaker, and she's not been interviewed yet.”

Macy rotated the laptop around so Gina could see the screen and pointed to the video that was playing. “There was definitely another witness in that room. See that woman seated near the doors? She was standing out front with the others when we arrived,” said Macy, picturing the boy who at first glance had so resembled Luke. “She was holding a child.”

Gina picked up the phone. “We can get her name from Whitaker's appointment book. We'll find her.”

*   *   *

Twenty minutes later Gina and Macy were on their way to an address on the outskirts of Walleye Junction. They pulled into the driveway and parked behind a minivan. The driver's-side door was wide open and the keys were still in the ignition.

Macy rang the doorbell and waited. Through the window she could see a woman sitting in the living room. She rang again.

“Mrs. Butler,” Macy yelled. “I'm detective Macy Greeley. I need to speak to you about what happened at Dr. Whitaker's office this morning. I know you were there.”

The door opened slowly. The woman look dazed. She barely looked at Macy's badge before opening the door to let them in.

“I can't stop crying,” she said.

“Where is your son?” asked Macy, searching the room for any signs of the young boy.

“I put him down for a nap.”

“Is it okay if my colleague Gina checks on him?” asked Macy

“I suppose so,” said Mrs. Butler. “His room is upstairs.”

Gina headed upstairs and Macy followed Mrs. Butler into the kitchen.

“Mrs. Butler, did a police officer try to interview you this morning?”

The woman leaned against the counter. Her hair fell across her face as she dipped her head.

“I don't know,” she said. “It's all a blur. I just wanted to get my son home safely.” Her hands trembled. “I don't remember driving here.”

“That's understandable,” said Macy. “You're in shock.”

Gina appeared at the bottom of the stairs carrying a little boy. The child reached out for his mother.

“Let's sit in the living room,” said Macy.

Macy took Mrs. Butler by the elbow and guided her to the sofa. Gina placed the child on his mother's lap once she was settled.

“Before I ask you anything, I want to know how you're doing?” said Macy. “Are you or your son hurt?”

Mrs. Butler pressed a tissue to her eyes and shook her head. She was struggling to breathe. Macy put a hand on the woman's knee.

“It's okay. You and your son are safe now.”

Hot tears ran down the woman's flushed cheeks. She couldn't get any words out. The little boy stared at Macy openmouthed and confused. He was too young to understand what was happening, but he sensed that something was wrong. He buried his face in the crook of his mother's arm.

“What's your son's name?” asked Macy

“William,” said the woman.

“He looks like he's about the same age as my son.”

“He just turned three.”

“Luke is two and a half.”

The woman brightened. “My older son is named Luke.”

A long sob escaped from somewhere deep within the child. His mother held him even tighter.

“He's still scared,” said Mrs. Butler.

Macy pulled a red lollipop out of her bag that she'd been saving for Luke and started to unwrap it. The boy's eyes followed her every move.

“Under the circumstances I'd say he could use this more than me.” Macy glanced at the boy's mother. “I hope you don't mind. I should have asked first.”

The boy grasped the lollipop tight and tucked it in his mouth.

“Seems like a little sugar is the least of our worries. What is the world coming to?”

“I know it's the last thing you want to think about, but I need you to tell me what happened this morning.”

The woman brushed the hair off her son's forehead and kissed him there for a long time.

“I didn't notice when he came in. I was sitting in the waiting area reading a magazine while William played in the children's area near the receptionist's desk. The guy sat down next to me and started talking like he knew me. I remember being annoyed because the waiting room was empty. There were plenty of other places he could have sat.”

“Did he say why he was there?”

“He said he was there to speak to Dr. Whitaker about his sister, Wendy, I think.”

Macy pulled out Joel's photo.

“Is this the man you spoke to?”

The woman flinched. “That's him.”

“I want you to tell me what you remember. Nothing more.”

The woman adjusted her son's position on her lap.

“He seemed harmless enough, but he did go on a bit. He said he didn't have any family left in Walleye, that his niece had moved to Denver with her father.” She paused. “I may have that wrong. It may have been Chicago.”

“That's okay. You're doing great.”

“The man's sister, Wendy, had died at some point. He made it very clear that it wasn't an accident. Last I remember he was rambling on about a government conspiracy.” Her voice trailed off.

“What happened next?”

“Dr. Whitaker came in and the guy hurried over to meet him. I remember thinking that he was being incredibly rude. I'd spent all that time listening to him go on and on and then he just up and leaves without saying anything.”

“Did he have a gun?”

The woman's eyes widened a fraction. “Oh my God, he must have had it with him all along. It was right there in his hand. Clear as day. He walked up to Dr. Whitaker and shoved it in his face.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“I'm not sure I can recall everything correctly … I was so scared. William was practically crawling at their feet. I couldn't take my eyes off him.” The woman pressed the tissue to her eyes. “The guy accused Dr. Whitaker of killing his sister.”

“How did Whitaker respond?”

“He said something about her death being a tragic accident, that he'd done his best. The guy went crazy. He started yelling and waving the gun around. He said Dr. Whitaker's name was on the bottles of pills that killed his sister and that Philip Long had said that it had happened before.”

“Are you sure he said Philip Long?” asked Macy.

“Yes, ma'am. That's when the shooting started.” The woman grabbed hold of her son's T-shirt and started crying again. “Oh my God, my boy still has blood on him.”

*   *   *

Macy, Gina, and Lou met in the incident room. It was nearly ten and they'd been going nonstop since dawn. Macy was so tired she could barely think straight.

“It's official,” said Macy. “I am now thoroughly confused.”

“The tech guys just gave me a call,” said Gina. “Sean Spencer and his girlfriend Kristina are definitely back in the Flathead Valley.”

“How can they be sure?” asked Lou.

“A photo came up on her Twitter feed from a bar in Collier. Manager confirms they were there last night.”

“We need to speak to Sean Spencer as soon as possible,” said Macy. “I'm convinced his mother passed Long's files to him.”

“We'll keep an eye on Kristina's social media accounts,” said Gina. “There's a buzz building about another rave. If she throws one we'll find them.”

“I've had word from Collier County Hospital. Dr. Whitaker is awake,” said Lou. “We can drive up in the morning to interview him. His statement contradicts what you learned from the witness, Mrs. Butler.”

“He's lying and I want to know why,” said Macy. “What about the receptionist?”

“She claims not to remember anything,” said Lou.

“That's convenient for Whitaker,” said Gina. “First thing in the morning I'm going to head down to Missoula to take another look at Kyle Miller's alibi. I'm sure the guys were thorough the first time but it wouldn't hurt to interview Kyle's friends again.”

“I appreciate that, Gina,” said Macy. “I know Kyle has checked out up to this point, but I still think it's worth having another look. Lou, what did the security guard say when you interviewed him again?”

“He thinks it's possible there was someone outside his house last night. Neighbor's dog was going crazy at around one. The same neighbor confirms seeing the security guard changing his tire this morning.”

Macy got out of her chair and walked over to a wall where they'd hung up photos of everyone attached to the investigation. She pointed at Joel Edwards's photo.

“There is not a shred of physical evidence that puts Joel Edwards at any of the crime scenes other than the clinic. He was a homeless drug addict who lived out of his car, a car that Ryan referred to as a hellhole. This isn't a man who is highly organized, so I have difficulty believing he wouldn't have left physical evidence in the house where Long was held captive. We know he's had at least one meeting with Philip Long and we know they spoke about Joel's sister, Wendy Martin, who died while under Whitaker's care. A witness has stated that Joel was in the clinic because he blamed Whitaker for her death. Joel knew Carla from rehab, but we have no idea whether their relationship went beyond an occasional coffee. In my opinion it wasn't in Joel's interest to silence Philip Long.”

“Maybe he spoke to Carla about his sister,” said Gina. “Carla may have recognized Wendy Martin's name from Philip Long's computer.”

“This is all speculation,” said Lou, throwing his hands in the air. “We don't have anything on Joel that ties him to Philip's murder, and we have even less on Sean and Kyle.”