Murder to die for, p.11
Murder To Die For, page 11
A few hours later, Rick stepped out of the back door and took a deep breath of the cool, brisk night air. Like Cammie, this was his favorite time of the year. With thoughts of the fabulous meal he was about to share with his grandmother, he started towards his vehicle and opened the door. And stopped short.
“Hey, deputy.”
Sitting in the passenger seat was Mia.
“What are you doing in there?” he asked, the memory of their interview still vivid in his mind.
“I was waiting for you. It was getting too cold to wait outside so I didn’t think you’d mind if I sat in here until you came out.”
“Where’s your boyfriend?” He asked, glancing around the parking lot.
“Cooling off. The sheriff really pissed him off with that last question of hers.” She shook her head, her glistening black hair moving back and forth in luxurious waves. “She really has made my life difficult asking him if I was sleeping with Keith.”
“If you’re afraid he’ll hurt you—”
“I can handle it.”
“Listen Mia, I’m in a bit of a hurry. What can I do for you?”
“Aren’t you going to sit inside?”
“No, I’m not.”
Mia chuckled, then let herself out of the car. She came around and leaned against the hood of the car, looking up at him.
“I only came by to apologize.”
“For what?”
“I don’t want you to get a bad impression of me. I felt you stiffen when I was crying in your arms. I want you to know I didn’t mean anything by it. I tend to be a bit too touchy feely sometimes, especially when I’m upset. I don’t like to be reminded of Ben. Even though it was years ago, I’m still devastated over his death. I thought it important you understand that.”
“Okay. Understood.”
To Rick’s surprise, she leaned up on her tiptoes and gave him a peck on the cheek. “You’re adorable, deputy. Have a good night.”
She turned and walked over to her own car where she opened the door. She gave him one last wave, slid inside and drove away.
“Bizarre,” Rick mumbled under his breath. Carefully placing the lemon meringue pie in the back seat, he climbed in and drove off. A few moments later, another car pulled away from the curb and took off in the same direction.
Once again, Cammie found herself sitting alone in her office. Emmy had gone long ago and Rick was dining with his grandmother. Jace had scheduled a Night Hawks club meeting to plan the upcoming season and wouldn’t be done for another hour.
As she aimlessly moved her chair back and forth, she thought about her interview with Shray. His reaction to her question hadn’t been unexpected. In fact, she’d been anticipating his blow-up. Although he’d been touchy and sometimes downright nasty since the killing, this was the first time he’d shown what she called his authentic self. There was no subterfuge, no evasiveness. For the first time since she’d met him, Shray had finally shown the jealousy-fueled controlling part of his personality witnesses had alluded to.
She stood up and walked over to the victim board where there were photos of the four friends, along with the autopsy pictures. In the center of the board was the Horror To Die For Club photo.
“Soon,” she whispered to herself. “Very soon.”
She leaned forward and studied the club photo. Suddenly, she caught her breath. Running back to her desk, she took out the magnifying glass and hurried back to the photo.
“Son of a bitch!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been looking at this all wrong!”
She snatched up her cell and called the Willow Street house. Penelope answered.
“I need to talk to Shray,” she said.
“I’m sorry, Sheriff, but he’s not here. He and Mia had a huge blow-out and he took off. He’s not back yet.”
“I’ll talk to Mia then.”
“She went out after him. She’s not back either. I can have them call you when they get back.”
Cammie didn’t answer. Instead, she clicked off the call. She then dialed Rick.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was close to nine pm when Rick left the warmth of his grandmother’s house. His belly was close to bursting, as was the love in his heart for the tiny woman who meant the world to him. He never tired of listening to her stories of the old ways and the deep spiritual connection her shamanic practices had gifted her. Although he knew she was disappointed that he hadn’t followed her healing path, she nevertheless understood what his law enforcement career meant to him.
“You don’t need to lay hands on a person to heal their heart,” she’d told him countless times.
The woods on either side of the road were dark as Rick made his way home. It was a clear night. It was Halloween night – a perfect night to see witches flying through the air.
Legend said that Twin Ponds was founded by the original witches fleeing the persecutions in Salem, Massachusetts back in 1692. Every year at Halloween, the town went all out to celebrate their founding mothers and fathers, regardless of whether the legends were true or not. The truth was, the stories were the perfect excuse to have a great party.
Driving along the deserted road, Rick wondered if there was something to the stories. He knew many townspeople went to the top of Crow Mountain, the highest point in Clarke County, to celebrate the ancient rituals of Samhain. He’d never admit it, but the idea of communing with witches, wizards and God knew what else creeped him out. They had their belief systems. He had his. And all was right in Rick’s world when the two didn’t meet.
Turning on the radio to keep himself company, he was just getting into an old Slipknot song when he saw the flashing red lights of a vehicle pulled over to the side of the road ahead of him. They were in the middle of the forest and with the town out celebrating Halloween/Samhain, he knew the stranded motorist would be there all night. He pulled over, got his flashlight out and got out of his car.
Approaching the vehicle, he flashed the light into the car and noticed that it appeared to be abandoned.
“Hello?” he called out. “Do you need help?”
There was no answer. Scanning the surrounding woods, he saw and heard nothing. Thinking the driver had decided to try to walk to the nearest house, he opened the passenger side door and looked in the glove compartment to see if there was any ID. Not seeing any, he walked back around to the driver’s side. Just as he started to open the back door, he heard a twig break behind him. Before he could turn, a shot of pain crashed through the back of his head and the world went black.
Rick felt as though he were swimming against the tide. His eyelids felt heavy and when he tried to move his limbs, he found they were useless. The pain behind his eyes was unbearable. All he wanted to do was to sink back into oblivion – to make the pain go away. But his instinct to survive was too strong.
Slowly he opened his eyes. He tried to move his head, but the throbbing made him stop. Yet, he’d seen where he was. And his heart began to hammer in his chest. It took him a few moments to discern a figure sitting in front of him. Quietly watching. Assessing. His sight was blurry and despite the sharp pain in his head, he shook it in an attempt to clear his sight. When the blurriness began to dissipate, he looked back. And sucked in his breath.
“Why?” he croaked.
“Because you were getting too close,” was the response.
Cammie tried several times to reach Rick, but each call went into voicemail. She didn’t want to disturb his dinner with Gran, but what she’d just discovered made it imperative she reach him. Looking up Gran’s number on the internet, she was in the middle of dialing her when, to her surprise, a call came through on her cell. It was from Gran.
“Sheriff Farnsworth,” she answered.
“I’m so sorry to bother you. This is Rick’s grandmother.”
“I was just about to call you. I’m trying to reach Rick.”
“So am I. I think something has happened to him.”
“Is he hurt?” Cammie asked as fear gripped her heart.
“I believe he is. I believe he’s in danger. You must hurry!”
“You need to tell me what happened.”
“We had dinner tonight and he left around nine. I cleaned up and fell asleep in my chair. I suddenly woke up about five minutes ago with a terrible feeling in my heart that he’s in trouble. He always calls me when he gets home, but he didn’t call tonight. The only reason he wouldn’t call is because something’s happened that’s preventing him from calling.”
Rick had told Cammie many times of his grandmother’s uncanny ability to see and feel things others didn’t. What she’d just told the sheriff wasn’t much to go on, but Cammie’s gut was telling her to listen to Gran’s words. Because she too felt that something was terribly wrong.
“I’ll go out and search for him.”
“Thank you so much. I’ll call his cousins and have them look as well.”
Rick came from a large, extended family. Her first thought was to tell Gran not to call them yet. They’d only get in the way. But she refrained because she knew that no matter what she told the diminutive woman, she’d still call in the family.
Just as she hung up, she heard the front door to HQ open. A moment later, Jace popped his head into her office. And saw the look on her face.
“What’s wrong?” he immediately asked.
“It’s Rick. He left his grandmother’s house an hour ago and never made it home.”
“That’s not good. He always calls Gran when he arrives home.”
“Exactly.” Cammie placed a call to her part-time deputies and told them what had happened. “I’m going to his bungalow before heading to Gran’s. I need you to check the backroads.”
She hung up and grabbed her jacket. “Let’s hope he broke down and is trying to repair the cruiser himself.”
Jace gave her a dubious look. “Rick wouldn’t know a carburetor from a gas hose if his life depended on it.” When he saw her look, he added, “Sorry. Wrong choice of words.”
Cammie and Jace drove to Rick’s small cottage he owned on the outskirts of Twin Ponds. The lights were out and when she checked in his garage, it was empty. Nevertheless, she continued ringing his cell and knocking on his door, but there was no answer.
“Damn it,” she sighed as she got back into the Explorer. “He knows I don’t call him after hours unless it’s an emergency. He always picks up, usually on the first ring.”
“You know, it is possible he ran into one of his thousand and one girlfriends and is, as he likes to put it, doing the horizontal even as we speak.”
She shook her head as she pulled away from Rick’s house. “Charlize Theron could be waiting for him, and he’d still call Gran.”
“Charlize Theron, huh? Now that’s what I call devotion.”
They slowly drove the route from Rick’s house to Gran’s. They were five minutes from her home when they saw several tail lights pulled over to the side of the road. When she stopped, she recognized the group as Rick’s cousins.
“We were just about to call you,” one of them said. “Gran called and told us Rick was in trouble. We found this.”
He pointed a flashlight into the woods. Barely discernable in a clump of shrubs was Rick’s cruiser.
“Shit,” Cammie exclaimed. “Did anybody touch the vehicle?” she called out.
They all shook their heads. One of them detached themselves from the group and approached her. She remembered his name was Samson. Big and beefy, he looked as though the T-shirt he was wearing could barely contain his muscles. Which made Cammie realize this immunity to cold must run in Rick’s family. Despite her heavy jacket, she was freezing.
“We watch those detective shows on TV, Sheriff. We don’t want to contaminate any evidence that might tell us where Rick is.”
She blinked at him in surprise, then gave a swift nod of her head. Donning a pair of latex gloves and taking out her own flashlight, she made her way down the embankment. With Samson and a few of the cousins holding back the shrubs, she looked inside the interior. To her relief, she found no blood. Yet, walking around the perimeter of the vehicle as best she could, her worry increased. It didn’t look as though Rick had accidentally driven off the road. Instead, it looked as though his vehicle had been deliberately driven here. And hidden.
Continuing her search, there was nothing to indicate that he may have hurt himself and wandered off. She shone the flashlight as she once again walked around the cruiser. She then climbed up the embankment and slowly walked up and down the road. A fluttering noise from a nearby shrub caught her attention. Walking towards it, she saw what looked like a brochure blown up against one of the branches. She picked it up and her heart immediately sank. It was an advertisement for The Murder House.
“So what do you think?” Samson asked when she returned to her vehicle.
“I’m just guessing at this point, but I’d say either someone flagged Rick down or made it look as though their vehicle was abandoned. When Rick went to offer help, they somehow were able to disable him. They threw him in their car before driving his off the road.”
“Then they must have left fingerprints on the steering wheel.”
Cammie’s gut told her whoever did this made sure to leave no evidence. But she wasn’t ready to tell Samson that.
She walked back and forth along the road until she saw the bars light up on her cell. She immediately called Emmy.
“Em, I need you to get to HQ ASAP and put out a BOLO on Rick. His car was driven off the road and hidden in a bunch of shrubs a few miles from his grandmother’s house.” She hesitated, then added, “He’s missing.”
She felt Emmy’s fear cut through the phone line. She knew how Emmy felt about Rick and this news had to be terrifying for the young woman. Hell, it was terrifying for her.
“I’ll get right on it.”
She hung up and looked at Samson. “I need to speak to your grandmother. In the meantime, don’t let anyone near Rick’s car. I’m calling in Forensics to take a look at it.”
“Did Rick appear distracted? Worried?”
The old woman shook her head. “He was full of mischief and humor as usual. He gave me a kiss when he left, promising me he’d call as soon as he got home.” She took Cammie’s hands in hers. “You must find him. I know he’s in terrible trouble.”
“I promise I’ll do everything in my power to bring him back to you.”
A half hour later, Cammie, Jace and Emmy were seated at Emmy’s desk. They were watching the CCTV tape from the camera mounted in the back which gave them a view of the parking lot. They watched Rick walk towards his vehicle. And open the door. Then suddenly stop. They all caught their breath when they saw Mia get out of Rick’s car.
“Crap,” Cammie muttered under her breath. They silently watched the exchange between the two. She felt Emmy stiffen when Mia kissed Rick on the cheek. She glanced over to the young woman and saw her face. It was white. But not from shock. From anger.
All of this – Keith’s death, the deterioration of Mia and Penelope’s relationship, the possible implosion of Shray and Mia’s relationship, now Rick’s disappearance all stemmed from that accursed house. How much more tribute was that place going to demand before it left them all alone?
After Mia and Rick left, Cammie noticed something in the far left corner of the screen. “Can you back the tape up a bit?” she asked Emmy. Emmy did. Cammie pointed to the screen. “Look. There’s a shadow. They’re standing beneath both the CCTV and the spotlight we have above the backdoor. It’s almost as though they know the camera is there. The shadow appears once Rick pulls away, then moves towards the street where I’m sure he or she were parked.”
She took out her cell and dialed the Willow Street house again. This time there was no answer.
“I’ve got to get over to Willow Street. No one is answering the phone.”
“I’m going with you,” Emmy said.
“So am I,” Jace agreed.
“I appreciate you wanting to help out, Em, but I need you here in case someone calls in. Jace—”
He held up his hand. “I know I’m not law enforcement, nor do I intend to get in your way. But these people may be responsible for already murdering one person and kidnapping Rick. Without him here as back-up and your other deputies out searching for him, you’re stuck with me.”
Cammie didn’t have time to argue. “Alright, come on.”
“Be careful, Sheriff,” Emmy called out as they left the station.
It was a fifteen minute drive to Willow Street. As Cammie pulled into the driveway, she saw two vehicles parked side by side and the lights on within the house. The third car was missing. She scoured her brain, trying to remember who drove what. Then it dawned on her.
Shray’s vehicle was gone.
Before getting out of the Explorer, she reached under her seat and withdrew a Glock she always kept there for emergencies. She handed it to Jace who silently took it.
“You bang on the front door while I go around the back.”
While Jace did as she asked, she scurried around to the back of the house. There was a stillness that told her it was probably deserted, but she needed to make sure. Reaching the back door, she turned the knob and saw that it was unlocked. She withdrew her weapon and cautiously entered. She immediately smelled what appeared to be the aroma of wood burning as she walked deeper into the kitchen. She abruptly stopped near the stove when she noticed a long smear of blood on the floor. Nearby, glistening in the light was a gold earring that she recognized as belonging to Penelope. She quickly reconnoitered the rest of the house before returning to open the front door to Jace.
“There’s no one here. But I found this.”
She led him to the kitchen where she showed him the blood and the earring lying on the floor.
“Penelope’s blood?” Jace asked.
“I don’t know yet.” Turning on her heel, she went into the living room and knelt down in front of the fireplace. Taking the poker, she sifted through ashes and what appeared to be pages ripped out of a journal. Donning latex gloves, she picked them up and laid them out on the hearth. One in particular caught her attention. In looping handwriting, she could just make out the words Tired of jealousy.
