A requiem for the dead, p.1
A Requiem For the Dead, page 1
A Requiem For The Dead
A Benoit and Dayne Mystery
Winter Austin
A Requiem For The Dead
Copyright© 2024 Winter Austin
EPUB Edition
The Tule Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
First Publication by Tule Publishing 2024
Cover design by ebooklaunch
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-964703-30-5
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Dedication
To my parents, Chris and Brenda
For instilling in me the love of reading.
And an unquenchable thirst for murder and mayhem.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
Benoit and Dayne Mystery series
About the Author
Chapter One
Day 1: Sunday, February 25, 4:32 a.m.
The leather satchel slid past the edge of her shoulder and slipped off her arm, hitting the floor upside down. Files, papers, and an odd assortment of office paraphernalia scattered across the tile flooring.
“Shit.”
Dr. Olivia Remington-Thorpe kicked the garage door shut and flung aside her pocketbook, keys, and coat. This was just the crap icing on the shit cake after the night she had. God, how she hated working the ER on a full moon in late February after Juniper, Iowa, had seen another snowstorm blow through and melt away. Between the cabin fever overtaking the younger generation with their attempts to pull off some stupid stunt they saw on social media and a sudden uptick in drug overdoses, she’d had enough. The lone saving grace to redeem this awful night? She hadn’t been needed for an autopsy. Thank God for small mercies.
Squatting down, she surveyed the mess. Fatigue dragged on her shoulders. The tight muscles in her back and neck made for an unrelenting pounding in her head. She could barely hold her eyes open.
Screw it.
If Dominic didn’t like it when he came home, then he could damn well pick it up. It wasn’t like her husband was going to be around any time soon. He’d turned scarcity into a fine art. Taking all the shifts opposite of her so as to not be in the house at the same time as she.
Her skin tightened as she grew flush. Dominic did this on purpose. For more than a year he’d used these types of passive aggressive tactics instead of speaking with her. Which was fine by her, since all they seemed to do when they were together was fight. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear he started the arguments in order to keep her at bay.
Olivia had noticed fractures in their marriage before the clashes—before she’d committed a grievous faux pas—and had brushed them off as mere nuisances of their professions, but it seemed the cracks were more than skin deep for Dominic. No one in their circle of friends knew about their strained relationship. They’d retained the facade of a happy marriage in front of prying eyes of those who could discover they were strangers living in the same house. No matter what she did to repair the damage, Dominic would retreat or cut her down. Divorce had been brought up, but neither of them seemed to want to get around to putting it into motion.
Olivia stepped over the chaos, leaving it behind to head upstairs to the master bedroom she had commandeered. As she shuffled along the hallway, she let her hair loose from its tie and scratched her scalp. Soaking in a hot Epsom salt bath sounded wonderful. Maybe a bit of lavender to ease the aches and pains and soothe the raging beast inside. Add a cup of chamomile tea and it would do her good. Probably help her go right to sleep.
A squeak from the kitchen brought her to a halt. Slowly, she turned, listening. The faint click of bone china made her stiffen. Was Dominic home? How could he be? He should be in the ER. Olivia saw his vehicle in the doctors’ parking lot before she left. She had, hadn’t she? As tired as she was, it was probable she mistook someone else’s SUV for his.
The soft sound of the refrigerator resealing made her scrunch her nose. There was no mistaking that noise for her wearied brain playing tricks on her. Someone was in the kitchen.
Maybe Dominic was home. Olivia consulted her watch: 4:41. Was he running late? Or did he have a delayed start at the ER, so he hadn’t left yet? All possible.
Despite their animosity toward each other, Dominic—ever the gentleman—left the garage space for her use and put his car behind the house under the car port. When he parked there, she didn’t see his vehicle because she pulled straight into the garage and entered the house through the connected doorway.
More sounds came from the kitchen, further piquing her interest. She abandoned her plan for a hot bath and redirected course for the swinging door dividing the hall from the kitchen. She pushed the door inward and peeked around the edge.
No one was there.
The lights mounted under the wall cabinets were on, the only illumination in the kitchen. A single teacup and saucer sat in the center of the island counter. Steam rose from the delicate china. Olivia stepped inside the kitchen and glanced around, but there was no sign of whomever made the tea and left it. She crept up to the counter and studied the teacup.
The tea had just begun to steep, the water not quite dark enough. She moved to the stove where the kettle sat and found it hot to the touch. Why hadn’t she heard the whistle?
Olivia wrenched around at the scuffing noise behind her.
Chapter Two
Sunday, February 25, 7:48 a.m.—3 Hours Missing
Juniper, Iowa, rang in the new year with temperatures in the single digits and wind chills in the negatives. The follow-up was a snowfall every weekend for the next month. By February, the whole of the Midwest was over winter. But winter was far from over in Iowa. A few more snowfalls preceded a rash of days with unseasonably warm weather. Then another bout of snow to cover up the mud.
Deputy Detective Lila Dayne was not unaccustomed to large snowfalls and bitterly cold temps, having lived a goodly amount of her life in Chicago. However, the open fields and rural areas of Iowa rivaled the windiest, and chilliest, day Chicago could conjure up. Back in the day, none of this would faze her. Now, after surviving two assaults that should have killed her and several strenuous years as a law enforcement officer, she wasn’t too keen on the cold.
With March a few days away, she was looking forward to spring and warmer temperatures. The full moon had not been a welcome sight last night. By the looks of the reports scattered across her desk from the night shift, it had been a doozie.
Everyone was suffering from a horrendous case of cabin fever, and Lila didn’t blame them as she glared at the jiggling legs of the only other deputy in the office. The squeaking noise from his duty holster and chair joining the jangling of a loose zipper on his coat.
“Meyer, if you don’t stop doing the jitterbug, I’ll come over there and duct tape you to the chair.”
Deputy Brent Meyer stilled his bobbing knees. “Sorry.” He swatted the computer monitor. “Nothing wants to load.”
“You trying to hamster wheel it won’t make it work any faster.”
He grumbled something.
“What?”
Meyer’s face flushed red. “I said, I wish this county would get its ass in gear and get caught up with the times. These broadband speeds are stupid slow.”
Lila stifled a yawn—too many early mornings and long days. “Y ou bring that up with the local internet provider. Better yet, tell the county commissioners.”
“That bunch of outdated hack jobs won’t listen.”
She grinned. In the last few years, Meyer had finally grown into himself and grew bolder in his verbal assessment of the county and world at large. Or he was feeling the drain because the department was running on fewer people and longer shifts. The added weight tended to make him grouchy as much as it did her.
For the last four months, Lila and Interim Sheriff Raphael Fontaine had been trading off supervisor duties while their fearless leader recovered from self-made complications after surgery. Eckardt County Sheriff’s Department was not only missing its sheriff but two deputies as well. One was out after being seriously injured with a shattered leg and the other coping with the fallout from an arrest gone wrong. Those left were putting in the extra work to cover for their partners, but the stress was getting to them. A parade of attorneys, state investigators parading in and out following up on all the loose ends from October didn’t help. And a nosey public, who claimed they were well-intentioned but were nothing more than busybodies looking for the juicy gossip to bolster their questionable status in the community.
Lila and Fontaine were still sorting out the mess left behind from the Halloween murders. Sheriff Elizabeth Benoit’s risky behavior and emotional state during the investigation into those murders put the department in a precarious legal position. Lawyers from all sides were having a field day with this fiasco. Lila didn’t know how much longer she could endure the pressure. Top-notch investigator she might be. Leader, she was not.
She stared at the organized desk across from hers. Her usual partner—and lover?—Kyle Lundquist had pulled night duty. His empty chair was a stark reminder she hadn’t seen him in the last two days. She’d hoped to get into the office early enough today to at least check on him, but he’d either clocked out early or just didn’t bother to stop in.
Since Halloween night, when he’d discovered the truth behind his older sister’s death and learned why his younger sister was riddled with anxiety, Kyle had withdrawn from Lila, their already-strained relationship further complicated by his inability to allow her to help him. His absence continued to create an ever-widening wound to Lila’s already-damaged soul.
The telltale rapid clink of metal dragged her from her mulling. Meyer’s damn leg was at it again.
“Meyer, I swear to God …”
The dispatch line ringing to life saved the deputy from her wrath. He bolted from his seat and hurried over to answer the phone. Their usual day dispatcher was dealing with a nasty respiratory infection, and the deputies were handling the calls on their own to give their night dispatcher her time to sleep. God forbid she be the next to go down and leave them even more understaffed.
“Eckardt County Sheriff’s Office,” Meyer answered.
Letting him deal with the call, Lila rose from her chair and ambled over to the coffeepot. Adding more caffeine to her already-taxed system wasn’t a good idea, but right now, she didn’t give two shits.
“Ma’am, would you repeat yourself? I didn’t quite catch that.”
Lila stopped midway to the coffee station and turned back to Meyer. If he was missing out on what the caller was saying, chances were they were on a cell phone and the connection was breaking up.
He bobbed his head twice, still listening. “Ma’am, I understand, but …”
Abandoning her quest for more jitters and her mug, Lila joined Meyer at the dispatcher’s desk. He looked up at her, his eyes widening. Perspiration glistened on his forehead. Lila held out her hand asking for the handset. He shook his head.
“Yes, ma’am, we’ll be there as soon as we can.” He tucked the handset between his shoulder and head and searched for something on the dispatcher’s desk. After finding a pad and pen, he scribbled down an address. “It’s going to take some time. Please, keep the area clear of anyone else.” He wrote down a name. “Yes, I’ll be sure she gets the message.”
Lila grabbed the pad from him. The address was on the far southeastern edge of Eckardt County, cornered by the Des Moines River and the Mississippi, with miles of wild timber, open fields of tangled grasses, and swamps. Not many people lived there, and those who did weren’t keen on law enforcement. Resident Kathy Miller was unfamiliar to Lila.
Meyer hung up and stood. “I have no idea what is out there. Kathy isn’t one to convey a lot of information over the phone.”
“We’ll leave now.” Lila headed back to her desk and grabbed her coat. “Who’s to get the message?”
“She wanted me to tell the sheriff to get there,” he said as he slid his arms into his coat.
“Not happening.” Lila punched a few buttons on the dispatcher phone to forward calls to her cell.
“Why I said I’d pass on the message.” Meyer started for the hallway with Lila coming on his heels. “We should alert Fontaine.”
“After we assess the situation,” she said as they strode down the hall.
“Separate units?” he asked.
“Yes. In case we get another call, we need to respond.”
Meyer pushed through the door. “You’re the boss.”
Not really, but whatever.
*
Lila allowed Meyer to lead the way. They found Kathy Miller bundled in an overly large, faded red-and-black checked coat, standing on the side of the road. Meyer and then Lila parked behind an ancient livestock trailer hooked to an equally ancient pickup truck.
Lila was out of her unit first, her breath clouding up in the chilly morning air. She adjusted her duty belt and carefully picked her way down the still snow-drifted ditch.
Kathy Miller inched her way toward Lila. She wore tall black boots caked with mud and flecks of pine shavings. The tip of her nose was cherry red, and a wild mess of white-streaked brown curls poked out from under a bright orange stocking hat.
“Where’s Sheriff Benoit?” she asked.
“Busy at the moment. I’m Deputy Dayne. What seems to be the problem?”
Kathy Miller glanced over Lila’s shoulder as Meyer joined them. “You look just like your daddy, boy.”
Lila didn’t have to guess Meyer’s reaction to such a statement. Since the day he’d started working in the department, he’d get the same remarks from people all over Eckardt County, and every time, he’d flush red but kept his comments to himself. He did look a little like his father, but that was as far as Meyer wanted the resemblance to go. The two had a strained relationship, of which Meyer barely cultivated. Pratt Meyer was a hard man to get along with.
“Ms. Miller, the problem?” Lila pressed, getting the woman’s attention back to her.
“Might be best to show you. Follow me.”
Kathy Miller led them through a field of pale-gold grasses, bent and intertwined with weeds. Patches of snow, hard and crusty from the consistent thawing and freezing, crunched under foot. Kathy Miller didn’t say a word as she huffed and puffed her way over the third of a mile of snarled terrain.
“What were you doing back here?” Lila asked as she struggled through the grass.
“I live just up the road. My heifer got loose, and I had to track her down. Found her out here.”
“Where’s the cow now?”
Kathy pointed back toward their vehicles. “In the trailer.”
Lila eyed the woman. She didn’t need to ask how Kathy managed to wrangle the heifer into the trailer alone. Over the years of residing in Iowa, Lila had learned to appreciate the type of women who lived in Eckardt County. Kathy belonged to what Lila called the no-nonsense group, women who found ways to handle anything life threw at them from running farms alone or manning their own businesses. A class of woman Elizabeth Benoit belonged in.
“This way.” Kathy set off to their right.
Another fifty or so yards they broke through the pockets of trees and tangled multiflora rose and emerged into another overgrown pasture.
Kathy stopped and pointed at the shadowed structure nestled between two towering oaks. “There. See it?”
“The shack?” Lila asked.
“It’s not so much the shack as what’s behind it.”
