Flashback, p.6
Flashback, page 6
“She did. I met her on the last day of her life.”
“Well, if she thought enough of you to ask for your help, that’s all I need to know. Would you like to come inside?”
“Thank you.”
Kendra followed Marlee inside her pleasant two-story home, which was decorated with pictures and objects that showed a fondness for European travel. Many of the framed photos included shots of the Morgan sisters, Marlee, and a ruggedly handsome man.
“These are nice,” Kendra said. “Is that your husband?”
“Yes. That’s Keith. He passed away from lung cancer a few years ago. The girls were crazy about him.”
“You obviously gave them a nice home.”
Marlee gazed pensively at a photo of two girls with their mother. “My sister did a wonderful job in the short time she had with them, and I just wanted to do everything I could to make them happy. They’ve grown up into two amazing women.”
“So I gather. I’m impressed by how dedicated they are to find their mother’s killer. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Marlee motioned toward a loveseat and couch in her sunken living room. Kendra sat on the loveseat, but Marlee remained standing. “Chloe really started that. She was the older of the two, and she started asking questions about her mother’s death when she was around thirteen or fourteen. My husband was uncomfortable discussing it with her, but I thought it was important to be as honest with the girls as we could. And who were we fooling anyway? Kids are better at finding stuff online than we ever were. Soon she was obsessed with finding out everything she could about Alyssa’s case, and Sloane was right there with her, at least for a while.”
“For a while?”
Marlee finally sat on the arm of the sofa. “Sloane started living life. She was very popular in high school and always had a lot of attention from boys. Chloe also had friends, but she was more academically inclined. She never stopped trying to find answers about what happened to her mother. Sometime during her college years, she started doing more than just digging up old newspaper and magazine articles. She started interviewing people connected with the investigation.”
“Police detectives?”
“Police detectives, uniformed officers, FBI agents, witnesses who appeared in the police reports… It’s when Chloe really started her own investigating. Almost everybody connected with the case was willing to talk to her. It was incredible. And when she exhausted all the leads in her mother’s case, she moved on to the other Bayside Strangler murders. Sloane rejoined the investigation around this time. They were both out of college by then and doing well. Chloe is a coder with a software developer in La Jolla, and Sloane is a PR rep at a firm downtown. They talked to everyone they could about the case. They used dictation software to take their interview recordings and make transcripts that they just pored over. They were obsessed. To be honest, I think it got in the way of their personal relationships. Chloe never spent much time with any one man, and most of her friendships fell by the wayside. Sloane was engaged for a while, but her fiancé was never that supportive of what she and her sister were doing. He didn’t like that it took her away from him so much of the time. I don’t know if he actually made an ultimatum, but he made it clear he wasn’t happy with things. So she left him.”
Kendra nodded. “Did you ever feel they were in danger?”
“No. To be honest, for all the work and time they put into this, they never seemed to be particularly close to solving the case. I think they gathered a lot of information that even the police didn’t have, but nothing that might make the killer feel threatened.”
“That’s probably why the police weren’t interested in their files. Paula told me that, but she also said there was a recent development. Did you know anything about that?”
Marlee nodded. “I was just about to mention it. Their moods changed in the last month or so. Chloe and Sloane were excited about something they found. They wouldn’t tell me what it was, but they became completely absorbed in their project, more than ever before. I found out later that Chloe had even started missing work, calling in sick when I knew she was fine. In all the years they had been investigating their mother’s death, they’ve never shown this kind of urgency.”
“You have no idea what they’d found?”
“I’m afraid not. No idea. After they went missing, I immediately thought of their case files. I talked to the police, but like you said, they didn’t think that was an avenue worth exploring. That’s when I spoke to Paula about it. She took their files and looked them over.”
“Yes, she told me. She didn’t see anything.”
“She told me that, too. It’s too bad. We thought there might be some hint there of what new lead they’d found.”
Kendra nodded. Better not to tell her those case files might have been what got Paula Chase killed. “How often do you talk to them?”
“At least once every few days. They were here a lot after my husband passed away, but not so much lately. Life gets in the way, you know?”
“I know.” Kendra made a mental note to call her own mother later. “Listen, do you happen to have keys to their homes?”
Marlee hesitated before replying. “Sure. We look after each other’s places when we’re out of town. Pick up mail, water plants, that kind of thing. Why?”
“I assume the police have looked their homes over, but I wondered if you might take me there.”
Marlee was clearly mystified by the request. “Why? I’ve been to both of their places myself, and I didn’t see anything out of order. Neither did the police.”
“I know. I’d just like to see for myself. And I’d appreciate it if you would go with me in case I have any questions.”
Marlee checked her watch. “Well, I’m free until dinnertime. We could do it now.”
Kendra stood. “I was hoping you would say that. I’ll follow you.”
It took only fifteen minutes for Kendra and Marlee to reach Chloe Morgan’s Pacific Beach residence, a one-story house just a few blocks from the community’s boardwalk and popular surfing spots.
Kendra walked around the sporty red Audi parked in the driveway next to the house. “This is Chloe’s car?”
“Yes. It’s been here since she went missing.”
“Keys?”
“In her purse, on the foyer table. Along with her wallet, cash, ATM and credit cards. No activity on any of them.”
Marlee led Kendra to the front door and let her into the house. It was immaculate, and many of the walls featured framed art prints of surfers and beach scenes. Two colorful surfboards hung on the wall over the living room sofa.
“Chloe surfs?” Kendra asked.
“Oh, yes. Since college. After several hours of writing software, she grabs a board and goes to the beach to clear her head. It’s why she lives here.”
“These are her only two boards?”
“She has another in her garage. It’s in there, I checked. She didn’t drown, Dr. Michaels.”
Kendra nodded. Marlee had obviously considered all the possibilities. Kendra turned and glanced around the living room. Like Marlee, she’d packed her home with family photographs. An area above a low bookshelf was dedicated to her mother, and also included several shots of her sister and Marlee. She looked away. “Does Chloe work at home often?”
“Yes. Her company doesn’t really care where she does her coding, as long as she’s productive. She goes up to La Jolla for meetings, but most of her work is done here. I’ll show you her office.”
Marlee led her into a small room in the back of the house. The walls were dark, and most of the illumination was provided by lengths of neon tubing on the walls and ceiling. Track-mounted window shades sealed off any trace of sunlight. A long desk, free of papers or any other clutter, faced the door.
“Wow,” Kendra said. “It’s like a cave.”
“That’s the way she likes to work. She says it helps her focus, but you can see why she likes to get out in the sun during her breaks.”
“Do you know what she’s been doing at work?”
“Yes, she’s lead coder on a new scheduling system for the University of California schools. But like I said, she’s been distracted lately. Chloe is the best at what she does, but she’s been so preoccupied with her mother’s case that I’ve been afraid she might lose her job.”
Kendra backed out through the door and looked down the hallway. “Her bedroom’s down here?”
“Yes, but there’s not much to see.”
Kendra walked down to the next door and leaned inside. Marlee was right: Aside from a bed and a pair of night tables, the room was empty. The windows were covered with the same track-mounted blackout shades as in the office, but they were wide open in this room.
“Chloe sometimes works around the clock, so it’s not unusual for her to sleep during the day. She likes these shades to give her total darkness whenever she needs to grab a few winks.”
Kendra pulled open the night table drawers. One held an open box of condoms, the other remotes for the shades and room lights. The closet was filled with an assortment of wet suits, casual wear, and a few dressier items of clothing. The master bathroom was spotless, with only a few bottles of skin care and hair products in the shower and on the counter.
“Very sparse,” Kendra said. “It almost looks a place that you might find for rent on Airbnb.”
“No, she doesn’t do that. She just never liked clutter. A minimalist through and through.”
“I can see that.”
Kendra walked back through the bedroom and froze. She cocked her head as Marlee walked behind her. “Go back.”
“What?”
“Go back and walk toward me again.”
Marlee wore a puzzled expression. “You want me to—?”
Kendra knelt on the floor. “Go back a few steps, then walk back toward me. Please.”
Marlee walked toward the bathroom, then turned and stepped toward Kendra.
“Stop!” Kendra stared at her feet. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“The floor.” Kendra knocked on the floor, moving her hand around to isolate a single ceramic tile that sounded slightly hollower than the others. “Right here.”
“Maybe… Your hearing must be better than mine.”
“I doubt that. I just grew up paying more attention to what I hear.” Kendra knocked on the floor again, then ran her fingernails along the grout line surrounding the tile. She tried prying it at several points, but the tile didn’t budge.
“What are you trying to do?” Marlee asked.
“I’m not really sure.” She moved her fingers to the other side of the tile. “I thought if I could just—”
The tile separated from the floor and flipped upward.
Marlee gasped. “Look!”
Kendra leaned over to see an opening under the floor, its sides carved in the same dimensions as the tile she’d just removed.
“Is it a safe?” Marlee asked.
“Safes usually have locks. This was glued shut.” She pulled her phone from her pocket, activated the flashlight function, and shone it down into the opening. “There’s something down here. Get me some tissues from the bathroom.”
Marlee ran to the bathroom, pulled a few tissues from the box, and brought them to Kendra.
Kendra used them to reach inside and pull a worn object from the opening. She laid the object on the floor.
It was a foot of electrical cord tied between two wooden handles.
Marlee leaned close. “What is it?”
“It looks like a homemade garrote. The Bayside Strangler’s victims were strangled by what was thought to be extension cords. Pretty much just like this one, but none were ever recovered.” They stared down at it for a long moment. “Marlee, do you know why Chloe would have something like this in her house?”
“She was thorough. She might have made that herself to figure out the kind of weapon the killer might have used against her mother and all the others.”
“Reasonable enough. One thing, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Look closer.” She moistened her lips. “I think there’s blood on it.”
CHAPTER
6
Less than twenty minutes later, Detective Ronald Breen was standing alongside Kendra and Marlee in Chloe’s bedroom, staring at the garrote resting next to the square-shaped hole in the floor.
Kendra crossed her arms. “I’m guessing you walked right over this.”
Breen scratched his short mustache. “You guessed right. But I’m a bit curious about how in the hell you knew how to find it.” He looked at Marlee. “You told her about this?”
“Nope. I didn’t have a clue.”
Kendra smiled. “It’s a twelve-by-twelve-inch hole in the floor, Breen. It sounded like a bass drum when we walked across it. In my experience, your officers don’t pay nearly as much attention to their ears as they do their eyes.”
“You may be right about that. I probably walked over this thing half a dozen times.” He knelt and stared at the garrote. “It does look like blood on this thing. Though I’m not sure if the Bayside Strangler actually drew blood from any of his victims.”
“Two.” Kendra read from her phone screen. “Leah McLane and Katrina Burge. The others just showed bruising.”
Breen squinted at the gory photos on Kendra’s phone. “Wow, those are police crime scene photos. Did you get those off the Web?”
“No. Courtesy of the Morgan sisters. Scans of their work that your colleague carted off yesterday afternoon.”
“Oh, yeah. Perry’s taken over an entire conference room with that stuff.” Breen was still staring at the garrote. “You’re not suggesting that this contraption is the actual murder weapon, are you?”
“I have no idea. I just think it’s strange that it was so carefully hidden in the home of someone who devoted her life to finding a killer who murdered his victims with a cord just like this one.”
“I won’t argue with that.” He produced a clear plastic evidence bag. “You didn’t touch that thing with your bare hands, did you?”
“Please.”
“I had to ask.” He scooped up the garrote and sealed the bag. “I’ll have it tested, and if it’s blood, we’ll run DNA.”
“Good.”
He looked between the two women. “You find anything else I should know about?”
“Not yet, but the day’s still young. We’re about to head over to the sister’s place. Sloane Morgan’s house.” Kendra smiled. “Of course, you’ve already gone over it with the same fine-tooth comb you used to search this place. No way I could ever find anything there, right?”
“Very funny. Now I can see how you’ve earned that ‘pain in the ass’ rep.”
“Aw, come on. It was given purely out of affection.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Dr. Michaels.”
“Trust me, I will. Sometimes it’s the only way I can make it through the day.”
Breen chuckled as he left the room and walked toward the front door.
Marlee turned toward Kendra. “Now I see why Paula wanted to bring you in to this. You found something a whole army of cops couldn’t find.”
Kendra shrugged. “Still no telling if it’s anything worthwhile.”
“We’ll know soon enough.” Marlee checked the time on her phone screen. “Listen, we lost time waiting for Detective Perry to get here. I’m afraid you’re going to have to go to Sloane’s place by yourself.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sorry. I have a business dinner, and the client is only in town this one night.” Marlee fished the key from her pocket and handed it to her. It was attached to a penguin-shaped keychain. “You can give this back to me later. There’s an alarm there, but I left it off in case the police want to go back in. If Paula trusted you, I can trust you. If you have any questions, call me. Okay?”
“Sure.”
“Thank you, Kendra. Please let me know if you find anything.”
“I will.”
Kendra drove to Golden Hill, a downtown neighborhood that possessed a decidedly artsy vibe. Within easy walking distance of the Gaslamp district and Balboa Park, the community featured several recording studios and art galleries. It was also home to one of her favorite restaurants, the Turf Supper Club, where she and her friends often gathered around an indoor cooking pit, grilled their own steaks, and consumed craft cocktails.
Kendra almost laughed when she realized that Sloane’s address was a building she’d noticed many times since its groundbreaking two years before. The six-story structure was constructed to look like an old factory that had been repurposed to hold a collection of artist’s lofts. The design was obviously in the interest of attracting hipster tenants who populated the area. It was marketed as studio space, but the sidewalk signs also noted that the units were zoned for residential use.
Kendra took the large industrial elevator to the fifth floor, amazed at the extent to which the builders made the new structure appear to be over a century old. Unbelievable. It was almost like a Disneyland attraction.
Kendra exited the elevator and found Sloane’s unit at the end of the hallway. She inserted the key, entered, and locked the door behind her. It was a spacious apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows, wood floors, and exposed ceiling pipes and HVAC ducts that continued the industrial theme. The lights of the city sparkled outside, and the lack of any window treatments gave her the feeling of being in a fishbowl.
Kendra looked at the artwork on the walls. They were modern mixed-media pieces that combined oils with time-lapse photography, and all appeared to be Sloane’s work. Very impressive.
A purse and keys were on the kitchen counter. Kendra assumed Sloane’s phone had been taken by the police in the hope of gleaning some useful info from it.
