In her tracks, p.10
In Her Tracks, page 10
The detectives had said much the same thing. They said Jewel’s ranting continued even after they told her that Bobby had called in Elle as missing and prohibited anyone from leaving the corn maze parking area. Witnesses had described him as “distraught.” Jewel Chin dismissed it as an act. She’d said Bobby put on “an act for the police” and the police had bought it.
Kins slid from the booth and headed to the bathroom.
Miller continued. “When the detectives got there and asked her about her evening . . . you know, where she and the boyfriend had been, she got even more upset and started dropping more F-bombs and saying she wasn’t saying another word until she spoke to her lawyer. Then she clammed up. Didn’t say a word except that Bobby was responsible. She basically provided no help. Never did, either, from what I recall.”
The detectives who initially handled the case had also noted that Jewel Chin seemed more concerned with her personal liability. After first going to the press to pin the daughter’s disappearance on Bobby, Jewel went to a hotel room to avoid the media. She later refused to answer the detectives’ questions. In his final report, the investigating detective speculated that Jewel, the boyfriend, or somebody they knew—or paid—took the child, probably to inflict pain on Bobby Chin. Little evidence supported the theory.
“What were your impressions?” Tracy said. “What didn’t you put in your report but thought?”
“She was a piece of work,” Miller said without hesitation. “How someone like that ever got a kid, or why she even bothered, is beyond me.” He shook his head. Then he pushed aside half the stack of pancakes, as if he’d lost his appetite, which did seem unusual given his size. “Bobby was no saint either, like I said.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what happened that night. I don’t know if it was the mother and the boyfriend or Bobby or somebody else. I just hope, for the little girl’s sake, that she’s alive somewhere. Alive and safe and that neither of them has any further contact with her. That’s the kid’s only hope for a normal life, in my opinion.”
The neighbor, Evelyn Robertson, had said much the same thing, without actually saying it.
Kins stepped back to the booth, but he didn’t make a move to sit down. He looked at Tracy. “We may have a witness who saw Stephanie Cole.”
“Where?”
“In the North Park neighborhood.”
“That’s close to Bartell’s.”
“I know. You just may be right about us looking in the wrong place.”
CHAPTER 15
Kins drove to a single-story brick home across the street from what looked to be an elementary school in the North Park neighborhood. Tracy suggested they drive around and get a feel for the area. She deduced North Park to be middle class, with modest, one-story homes and neat, well-kept yards. On this wintry Saturday, Tracy noted many dog walkers, mostly what appeared to be retirees bundled in down jackets against the cold, some with scarves and gloves or knit hats. The neighborhood had a friendly feel; at least the walkers were smiling. Some talked to one another on the sidewalk. A good thing if Cole had indeed been spotted here.
Kins parked in the street and they climbed steps to a brick rambler with large plate-glass windows on both sides. The door pulled open before they had the chance to knock; the tall, gray-haired man who answered had been waiting for them. A Jack Russell terrier sprang up and down beside him, tail whipsawing back and forth.
“Mr. Bibby?” Kins said.
“You must be the detectives.” The man looked down at the dog. “Okay, okay, Jackpot. Settle down now and let them get inside.” He looked back to Kins and Tracy. “He gets excited when we have visitors.” A woman came into the room, expressed greetings, then bent and scooped the dog into her arms.
“Come on in,” the man said. “Let me get the door shut before he runs off.” After doing so, he said, “I didn’t expect you this fast.”
The woman put the dog on the ground as Kins made introductions. He explained they had been nearby when the call came in. Brian Bibby introduced his wife, Lorraine. Tracy estimated both to be midseventies.
“Can I offer anyone something to drink—coffee or tea? A glass of water?” Lorraine asked. Tracy and Kins declined. Bibby asked for coffee.
The home, like the yard, was simple but well kept and cared for. The main room had wood paneling, hardwood floors with a large area rug, and a leather couch pushed against a window that offered a view across the street to the school. A futuristic leather reading chair was angled to see out the window, as well as to view a flat-screen television mounted to the wall. Behind the chair, neatly arranged books, what looked to be mostly nonfiction—biographies—filled a tall bookcase along with family photographs. The Bibbys apparently had two grown children, a son and a daughter. Beside the bookcase, a redbrick fireplace spewed warm air from an enclosed insert.
Bibby took their coats and invited Tracy and Kins to sit on the couch. He adjusted a back pad in the leather chair before sitting, explaining that he’d hurt his back working as a machinist at the Boeing plant in Everett.
“I gutted it out until retirement,” he said. “But it was still too early. I’m not one to sit around.”
“How do you spend your time?” Kins asked.
“We keep a Boston Whaler at the Edmonds Marina. When the salmon are running, Lorraine and I are out just about every morning, regardless of how my back feels. I smoke the salmon in a smoker out back, freeze-dry it, and give it to all the neighbors. I have a whole freezer full in the garage. Can I interest either of you?”
Again, Tracy and Kins declined.
Lorraine returned with Bibby’s cup of coffee. He thanked her, sipped it, and set the cup on a coaster on the table near the floor lamp. Lorraine pulled up a folding chair and sat beside her husband.
“Mr. Bibby—” Kins began.
“Bibby is fine,” he said. “Everyone has always called me Bibby.”
He sounded like he took pride in it.
“You think you might have seen Stephanie Cole?” Kins said.
“You got a photograph of her?” Bibby asked.
Kins pulled up the photograph they’d used for the news release and handed his phone to Lorraine, who handed it to her husband without looking at the picture. Bibby studied the photograph. Then he said, “Is she a runner?”
“Why do you ask?” Kins said.
“Because the young lady I saw was running in the park down the street.”
“That’s where you saw her?”
“That’s where Jackpot and I go walking. That’s our usual route. We walk down the street to the park entrance and walk until the trail dead-ends, then walk back.”
“And is this the woman?”
“Sure looks like her,” Bibby said. “She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail. That’s the only thing keeping me from being a hundred percent certain, but I’d say ninety percent.” In the photograph Cole’s hair hung to her shoulders. “She live around here? I’ve never seen her before, but I figured if she was running in the park maybe she just moved in.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it’s not really a park for running. There’s just the one trail and, as I said, it dead-ends at the bottom of the ravine. It’s also steep, which I imagine is hard on a runner’s knees going downhill, all that pounding, and the back, I suppose. And, what goes down must come back up again, which would not be pleasant. Beyond that, the entrance to the park isn’t easy to find, if you don’t live here. I figured she must have recently moved to the neighborhood and didn’t know any better.”
“What time do you and Jackpot go for your walk?” Kins asked.
“Depends on the time of year. Jackpot and I leave the house so there’s enough daylight to make it there and back. We walk in the afternoon because it helps to settle Jackpot down for the night and helps me stretch out my back.”
“When did you see the woman going for a run?” Kins asked.
“It was Wednesday.” Bibby looked to his wife as if calculating the time. “So Jackpot and I would have left the house at about 3:45.”
“Do you walk with your husband?” Tracy asked Lorraine.
“Sometimes, but not always. I still work part-time. I didn’t walk with him Wednesday.”
“So then what time did you see Stephanie Cole?” Tracy asked Bibby.
“I thought you might ask me that, so I checked the sunset calendar. The sun set at 4:48. Jackpot and I saw her right around 4:35 to 4:40, as we were walking back up the trail. I’d just put Jackpot back on leash . . . He got to chasing after a squirrel or a rabbit or some damn thing and was running in circles all over the brush. I had just got him back on leash when the young woman came running down the trail. I recalled thinking it was getting dark and the young lady had better hurry if she was going to finish with any daylight.”
“What was she wearing?” Kins asked.
“Running clothes. Leggings, long-sleeve shirt, sneakers. She had those buds in her ears for listening to music. The kind without any wires. Not sure what you call them.”
“Wireless,” Tracy said.
“Makes sense to me,” Bibby said.
“Was she carrying a phone?” Tracy asked.
“In her hand.”
“You said you and Jackpot walk that route every day?” Kins asked.
“Occasionally we’ll stray, but why, when the park is right there? I’m a bit of a creature of habit. Lorraine will agree, I’m sure.”
“Did you have any interaction with the runner?” Kins asked.
“Nothing verbal. She smiled, and I nodded and pulled Jackpot out of the way. She was a little thing.” He set out his hand, palm down. “Not even as tall as Lorraine, I’d say.”
Kins asked and Lorraine told him she was five foot five. Cole was five foot four.
“Do you think she went missing in the park?” Lorraine asked, looking and sounding concerned.
“We don’t know,” Kins said. “We’re doing our best to retrace her whereabouts that afternoon. I take it that you didn’t see her come out of the park?” he asked Bibby.
“I did not. Jackpot and I would have been home by then, or close to it, I’d guess.”
“Did you see anyone else as you completed your walk? Anyone on the trail or who looked to be waiting around it?”
“No. I thought Jackpot and I were the last ones . . . until she ran by.”
“What about on the street as you came out of the park? Did you notice anyone?”
He shook his head. “Sorry.”
“Anyone sitting in a car?”
Bibby shook his head. “Don’t recall seeing any cars. I mean, cars park along the curb all the time, but mostly during school hours. Most are gone by three o’clock.”
“When does school get out?”
“Two thirty,” Lorraine said.
“Lorraine taught there thirty-seven years,” Bibby said. “Easiest commute a teacher has ever had.”
“Is that where you still teach part-time?” Tracy asked.
“I don’t teach any longer, but I help with some of the administrative work.”
“How did you hear that the young woman was missing?” Kins asked Bibby.
“The news.” He made a gesture to the television screen. “As I said, I’m a creature of habit. After Jackpot and I walk, we sit down to watch King 5, and I have a cup of coffee. I was watching the news yesterday, and they put up the woman’s photograph and said she was missing. I turned to Lorraine and said, ‘I think I walked by that woman in the park Wednesday.’”
Lorraine nodded.
“I said, ‘Does she live around here?’ Lorraine often knows before me because new parents will enroll the kids in school, though this girl looked too young for kids. Could have moved here with her parents, I suppose. Did she?”
“Did she what?” Kins asked.
“Move here,” Bibby said.
“We’re still piecing everything together. This helps. Thank you. Anything else you can think of?” Kins asked.
“No. Nothing. I sure hope nothing bad has happened to that little girl. This is a peaceful neighborhood. Good people. We all know one another and get along.”
Tracy turned to Lorraine. “Do you know if the school has security cameras for that parking lot?” She pointed out the window.
“It doesn’t. Last January thieves stole a wheelchair ramp that provided access to a portable classroom. It would have been nice to have caught them on camera.”
“Can you believe that?” Bibby said.
“We were the second school targeted,” Lorraine said. “But we don’t have much recourse without security cameras, and we won’t get them if the voters don’t approve two school levies to allocate funds for all Seattle elementary schools.”
“You said the entrance to the park can be difficult to find?” Tracy said to Bibby.
“I’m getting ready to take Jackpot out for his walk. We can go a little earlier if you’d like me to take you,” Bibby said.
“We’d appreciate that,” Tracy said.
Bibby stood and grimaced. “No worries. My back could sure use the walk,” he said.
After Bibby slid on his winter gear and tethered Jackpot to his leash, Kins and Tracy followed them out the door. Kins walked beside Bibby and Jackpot. Tracy walked behind them, surveying the school parking lot as they passed, then the house kitty-corner to what Bibby described as the park entrance. The entrance wasn’t well defined, though there was a park sign. Someone had sprayed graffiti on it—gang symbols.
“You have any gangs around here?” Tracy asked when they stopped at the park entrance.
“Only of the septuagenarian variety,” Bibby said.
The obscure park entrance made Tracy wonder if Cole had trouble finding the running trail. She made a note in her notebook.
Did Cole ask for directions?
Across the street from the trail entrance, Tracy noted a two-story house with floor-to-ceiling plate-glass windows. She looked for security cameras over the front door and over a sliding glass door on the side, but she didn’t see any. She made a note to talk to each homeowner with a view of the park entrance, then followed Kins and Bibby into the park.
A signpost at the trail’s entrance did not include a trail map. If it was Cole’s first time running in the park, she might not have known the trail descended into a ravine and came to a dead end.
“A few years back the trail had become a dumping spot for garbage, used appliances, tires, you name it,” Bibby said, starting down the path. “A neighbor got funds from the county to clean it up, and the neighborhood did the work. It’s looking a lot better now.”
She followed Kins and Bibby down the steep grade into a wooded ravine with maple trees and ferns. Tracy agreed that going back up the grade would be a killer, and it made her wonder why Stephanie Cole chose to run here when she had seemingly better running paths closer to her home that circumnavigated a beautiful lake and weaved through one of Seattle’s best parks.
After fifteen minutes of walking, the trail flattened, and they stepped across wooden pallets creating a footbridge over a small creek. Bibby said, “This is where I passed her. As I said, I’d been chasing Jackpot all through these bushes and had just got ahold of his collar and got him back on the leash when she came jogging along.”
Tracy could not hear street traffic, just the wind rustling the leaves of the small, tranquil forest. Not that Tracy felt peace. The lack of sunlight and the quiet brought a sense of foreboding. She looked from the trail to the plants, at broken branches and depressed leaves. She looked for footprints in the dirt, anything to indicate a woman had been dragged along the ground. She looked for disturbed soil or a mound of dirt.
Winter light faded, blocked by the canopy, though many trees had shed most of their leaves. They continued along the trail. Tracy’s head remained on a swivel, searching for unnatural colors in the bushes. Already she was making plans to come back in the morning with cadaver dogs and CSI detectives. She’d also call Kaylee Wright, a sign-cutter who could re-create what had happened at a crime scene from shoeprints and broken vegetation. If this was a crime scene, they’d need Wright. Given the amount of time that had passed, and the hard rains last night, she doubted search-and-rescue dogs could track a scent, though she’d call to confirm. Kaylee was as good as the dogs, maybe better.
They came to an unceremonious but clearly marked dead end. Thick brush sloped up a steep hillside. Halfway up the slope, on two metal guardrails, someone had posted signs identifying this to be the end of the public trail.
“This is where Jackpot and I turn around and start the walk back up the hill.”
“Give me a hand,” Tracy said to Kins and held out her hand. Kins helped her step up onto the guardrail, but she couldn’t see above the slope. “What’s up there?” Tracy asked Bibby.
“Backyards,” Bibby said as Tracy stepped down. “That’s why it isn’t a continuous loop. Some of the land is private property.”
Tracy again studied the vegetation. She noticed a gap in the heavy brush, a small game trail that led up the hill.
“We’re losing light,” Kins said.
Tracy checked her watch. If this was roughly the time Cole had run through the park, she, too, would have almost been out of daylight.
They made their way back to Bibby’s house and left business cards and indicated they might have further questions.
“Anytime,” Bibby said. “Old Jackpot and I will be here. Sure hope nothing bad has happened to that little girl.”
In the car, Tracy said, “Let’s call the North Precinct and have them post an officer at the entrance, in case anyone saw us go down there.”
“You thinking what I’m thinking? That Cole’s body might be down there?” Kins asked.
“Unfortunately, I think it’s a good possibility,” Tracy said.
“I’ll get CSI lined up. You call Kaylee?” Kins asked. After years as partners, they often anticipated the other’s thoughts and actions.
“I’m on it.”
