Buried Bones (Widow's Island Novella) Page 7

  Logan flattened his palm on the papers. “Aurora’s phone records show Dean called her a few dozen times in April. She stopped answering him at the end of the month. He called her a few more times in May. She must have deleted his calls and contact information from her phone.”

  Tessa looked up from her computer. “Sounds like Dean was obsessed with her.”

  “He said he was too pushy.” Logan waved his hand over the pages. “But this seems like more than pushy.”

  “I agree.”

  Logan said, “Since he primarily called her instead of texting, we don’t have a sense of his mood.”

  “Could he have come to Widow’s in the last week of May looking for her? Maybe she still didn’t want to see him. Maybe he got mad and killed her.”

  “We could try to check the ferry camera feeds on May twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth. See if Dean’s car appears.”

  Tessa picked up the phone and called the ferry station. Two minutes later, she ended the call. “They only keep the feeds for forty-five days. We’re beyond that now. Plus, he could have used a different vehicle.”

  “So why would he come here today?” Logan asked. “We didn’t even know who he was until now. We had no way to tie him to her life or death.”

  Tessa closed her eyes and ran the interview through her mind. “Dean didn’t know she’d deleted his communications. He would have assumed his calls were on her phone. Maybe he thought that by coming here, he would throw us off his trail. Chad said a young man was looking for Aurora at the docks after she disappeared.”

  Logan rubbed his eyes. “Dean isn’t even close to the description Chad gave.”

  “True.” Tessa checked her notes. “Chad said he was an average guy with dark hair. Witnesses are notoriously unreliable on details, but Dean is six foot seven and blond. There is no way Chad would have gotten his description that wrong.”

  “So who went to the dock looking for Aurora?”

  Logan’s gaze snapped to hers. “If there was a guy. Chad could have invented him to throw us off his trail.”

  “True.” Tessa scrubbed both hands over her face. “Let’s show Dean’s picture around town and see if anyone recognizes him.”

  “Tomorrow,” Logan said firmly.

  “Right,” Tessa said. “Tomorrow.”

  She hated to walk away from the investigation, even for a short time, but she needed to make her family a priority.

  “I’ll pick up Patience on my way.” Logan gathered up the statements and reports he’d been reviewing and slid them into a folder. “We can review these again after everyone goes to bed.”

  Tessa locked up and drove to the house. Her mother and her companion were sitting in rocking chairs on the front porch, drinking lemonade. The companion stood and collected a tote bag at her feet. “I’ll be off.”

  Tessa thanked her, then called to her mother, “I’ll be right in, Mom.”

  As the companion got into her car and drove away, Tessa veered off toward the chicken enclosure. Better to feed the hens before she got comfortable for the evening. She grabbed a bucket of pellets, opened the wire door, and slipped inside. She stood still for a minute, scanning the clucking birds approaching her. Most of the hens were tame and compliant, with the exception of the alpha hen. Not seeing her, Tessa began tossing feed on the ground. Chickens pecked around her feet. Killer Hen must be in the coop.

  A large shape fluttered from the roof. Tessa ducked, but the big hen landed on her back, squawking and flapping her wings. Tessa dropped the bucket and covered her face with her arms. Wings smacked against the back of her head. Something pulled at her hair. She swatted at the bird. “Get off me.”

  With an indignant and angry squawk, the chicken fluttered to the ground and strutted in a circle around Tessa. She straightened her uniform and smoothed her hair. “Why do you hate me?”

  Killer Hen gave her an unapologetic side-eye. The sound of laughter reached Tessa. Logan’s Range Rover had pulled into the driveway. Patience and Logan stood next to the vehicle. Her sister was laughing her butt off and holding her cell phone.

  Is she recording this?

  Logan walked toward Tessa, his facial muscles twitching as he clearly worked hard to suppress laughter.

  “I’m glad I could entertain you,” Tessa called out.

  Patience choked out, “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. That was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Do you need help?” Logan entered the enclosure. Of course Killer Hen clucked amicably around his boots.

  “No.” Tessa waved. “I’ve got it.” She reached for the dropped bucket. The feed was piled on the ground, surrounded by bickering chickens. Tessa scattered the pellets with her boots to allow the less aggressive birds access to food.

  “I’ll change the water.” Logan dumped, rinsed, and refilled the containers.

  They left the enclosure, and Tessa fastened the lock.

  Logan plucked a feather from her shoulder. He chuckled. “Did she scratch you?”

  “No.” The corner of Tessa’s mouth pulled. “But I’m glad I was wearing body armor.”

  “I don’t think ‘protection from chicken attacks’ is listed on the manufacturer’s website.” Logan lost it, bursting into unrestrained laughter.

  Tessa sighed.

  He bent double, leaning on his thighs. A few minutes later, he straightened and wiped an eye. “Sorry, babe.”

  Patience was bent over her phone. Tessa heard squawking and the sound of her own voice yelling at the chicken. She walked toward her sister. “Do not post that video on social media!”

  “Too late.” Patience turned and sprinted for the house.

  “Get back here! Give me that phone!” Tessa started to give chase; then the sound of soft chuckling from the house stopped her in her tracks. She glanced at the porch. Her mother’s face was bright with a huge smile. Tessa couldn’t remember when she’d last seen her mother happy, and it had been even longer since she’d laughed.

  Warmth flooded Tessa. She’d let that damned chicken attack her every day if it gave her mother joy.

  Logan slung an arm around her shoulders. “Come on. I’ll make dinner while you change. You have feathers in your hair.”

  Tessa let him guide her into the house. She changed into jeans and a T-shirt, washed her face, and removed three chicken feathers from her hair. Then she went to the kitchen. Logan stood at the stove stirring a steaming pot. Patience was setting the table and chattering to Logan about a customer. Their mother sat at the table. Her communication skills had deteriorated. She was verbal enough to answer direct questions but no longer participated in conversations. Tonight, though, she seemed to be enjoying watching and listening to the activity around her.

  As soon as Tessa sat down, Patience stopped talking. Tessa tried to engage her, but her sister stuck to one-word answers. Worry nagged at Tessa, but she brushed it aside. She had to have faith. When Patience wanted to talk, she would.

  They ate a quiet meal, and Tessa marveled once again at how much Logan’s presence had calmed and stabilized the household. She had gone from barely holding her life together to actually enjoying quality time with her mother and sister.

  After dinner, Patience volunteered to clean up, another miracle. Tessa helped her mother wash up and change into her nightgown. Mom even allowed Tessa to spray her hair with detangler, then brush and braid it. She gave Mom her pills and tucked her into bed. The medication made her drowsy, and she was asleep soon after.

  Patience and Logan were binge-watching Friends when Tessa joined them. Though tempted to get back to work, Tessa resisted until after Patience had gone to bed. Then Logan pulled out his files, and Tessa fired up her laptop.

  She signed into her email. “Bruce sent me the information from the detective who handled Earl Byrd’s rape case.” She opened the email and downloaded documents. After opening the first, the original rape report, she froze, a chill sweeping over her. A woman’s face stared out from the screen.

 
; “What is it?” Logan was staring.

  Tessa showed him the photo. “This is the woman Earl was convicted of raping.”

  “She looks a lot like our victim.”

  Tessa nodded. “Same hair and eye color, close in age, similar features.”

  Logan’s mouth flattened. “We need to question Earl again.”

  Tessa shook her head. “We need to search his house, and I don’t want to tip him off beforehand. He might destroy evidence.” She waved a hand at the computer screen. “Unfortunately, the fact that his previous victim had similar basic physical characteristics isn’t probable cause. We need evidence that connects Earl to our victim.” Tessa sprang off the couch and paced the room.

  “But how do we get that without searching his residence?”

  “I don’t know. Yet. Tonight, I’m going to review Earl’s rape case file. I’ll call the investigating detective in the morning to fill in any gaps. If he’s guilty, then there must be something to tie him to Aurora’s death.”

  If Earl was guilty, Tessa would not let him get away with murder.

  8

  “Earl’s version of his rape case is complete bullshit.” Logan pointed to the laptop screen, where he had been reviewing photos of Earl’s rape victim. He and Tessa had worked late and risen early, studying the old case.

  Next to him at the kitchen table, Tessa leaned back. “How do you know?”

  Logan turned the computer around. “His victim’s wrists are bruised all the way around.”

  Tessa squinted at the screen with tired eyes. “The marks look like fingerprints.”

  “He held her down.” Logan clicked to the next photo. “She had other defense bruises too, and her fingernails were broken.”

  “Not exactly the vision of consensual sex he portrayed.” Tessa stared at the screen.

  “He probably thought she wouldn’t go to the police.”

  “Most rape victims don’t,” Tessa said.

  “Maybe he raped Aurora. His first victim sent him to prison. Maybe this time, he was determined not to leave a witness.”

  “Who says this was his first victim?” Tessa gestured toward the picture. “Sex offenders tend to reoffend. That’s why we have a registry.”

  “We should just keep them in prison instead of letting them out after a few years.” Logan turned his attention back to the screen. He rapped a knuckle on the table. “We can’t let him get away with this.”

  “We don’t have any evidence that he killed Aurora.”

  “He lied to us about the rape case,” Logan suggested.

  “True, and we could call him on it. But that would also tip him off to the fact that he’s our prime suspect. I’d rather keep that under wraps until we have something solid on him.”

  “Feels very Catch-22-ish.” Logan closed Tessa’s laptop. The screen had begun to blur. “More coffee?”

  “Please.” She propped her elbows on the table and rubbed her eyes.

  Logan refilled their empty mugs and returned the pot to the machine. He found a container of cinnamon buns his grandmother had sent over and brought them to the table.

  Tessa added milk to her cup and chugged half of it. Then she picked at a bun, her brow furrowing. When she looked up at him, her eyes held a predatory gleam. “I have an idea.”

  Logan ate a bun in three bites. “What are you thinking?”

  “What are the chances Earl told his girlfriend about the rape?”

  “Slim.” Logan reached for another pastry. “And if she does know, I’ll bet he gave her the same sanitized version he gave us.”

  “We should talk to Wanda without Earl.”

  Logan drained his mug. “We need to do that without tipping off Earl.”

  Tessa popped the last of her cinnamon bun into her mouth and stood. “We’ll go back to the cottages on the ruse of searching Aurora’s cabin again. If Earl is there, we’ll make a big deal out of not having any evidence. We’ll boost his confidence and ask him casual questions about Aurora. But if we’re lucky, he won’t be there.”

  An hour later, with Tessa’s mom settled with the day’s companion and Patience dropped off at the bakery, Tessa turned the SUV toward the station. “I need to check in with Kurt before we drive to the harbor.”

  Her cell phone rang.

  She answered, “Deputy Black.” Surprise lifted her brows. “How can I help you, Wanda?”

  Logan leaned closer so he could hear better. Tessa tilted the phone.

  “I found something,” Wanda said in a low voice. “I need to show it to you.”

  Tessa’s posture tensed. “What is it?”

  “A charm,” Wanda whispered. “In Earl’s nightstand. It’s not mine. I think it’s hers.”

  “Why do you think that?” Tessa asked.

  “Because it’s Sleeping Beauty’s dress.” Wanda’s tone sharpened. “You know Sleeping Beauty’s name is Aurora, right?”

  Tessa was silent for two heartbeats. “Can you text me a picture of it?”

  Her phone vibrated. She handed it to Logan, and he swiped the screen to view the text. “The pendant looks like a pink dress. ‘Aurora’ is inscribed on the top.”

  Logan set the phone in the console cup holder. “There’s no way Earl bought this for you as a gift?”

  “No,” Wanda said. “He thinks Disney is stupid.”

  “Where are you?” Tessa asked Wanda.

  “At home,” Wanda answered.

  “We can be there in ten minutes,” Tessa said.

  “Hurry.” Wanda’s voice trembled, as if she was afraid. “Earl went to the market, but he won’t be gone long.”

  “Do you want me to stay on the line?” Tessa asked.

  “No,” Wanda snapped, then lowered her voice. “Just come here. Don’t tell him I called you.”

  “We won’t. Don’t worry.” Tessa drove toward the harbor and the Seaside Cottage Resort.

  “She sounded afraid.” Logan gripped the armrest as the SUV whipped around a bend in the road.

  “I have a bad feeling,” Tessa said. “Would you call Kurt and Bruce and put them on alert?”

  “Yes,” Logan agreed. Other than the three deputies stationed on Widow’s Island, additional help was a boat, helicopter, or seaplane ride away.

  Logan called both Kurt, who was on his way home from the station after working the graveyard shift, and Bruce, who was off duty until afternoon. Both agreed to head over ASAP. “They’re on their way.”

  “Thanks.” Tessa steered the SUV through a sharp turn. “Wanda said she found a necklace. Would you look through Aurora’s Instagram photos and see if she’s wearing a necklace in any of them?”

  Logan pulled out his smartphone and began searching. “Here it is.” He snapped screenshots of several photos with the necklace clearly visible.

  As they neared the harbor, Tessa reached for the radio mic and reported their location to dispatch. Then she turned into the entrance and drove through the rows of cottages.

  Logan read the numbers. “There it is.”

  “It’s close to Aurora’s unit.” Tessa drove past it. “I’m going to park there in case Earl comes back.”

  They left the SUV in front of Aurora’s cottage and jogged back to number twelve, just a few short blocks away.

  “He drives a white F-150,” Tessa said.

  Logan scanned the area. “I don’t see a truck near unit twelve.”

  “Good.” Tessa knocked on the door of unit twelve. No one answered. She knocked again. “Earl? This is Deputy Black. Just letting you know that we’re accessing unit twenty-one again.”

  The cottage was silent. Gulls cried from the direction of the harbor.

  Tessa knocked and identified herself again.

  Someone yelled, “Earl, no!” and a dull thud sounded from inside the cottage.

  Logan went on alert, his entire body tensing.

  Something was wrong. He knew it on a cellular level.

  He and Tessa drew their weapons and moved to flank the doorway. Af
ter working several cases together, they functioned as a team.

  A muffled scream raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Logan went to a front window, but he couldn’t see through the closed blinds. Backup was on its way, but they couldn’t wait. Wanda could be in danger inside.

  Tessa reached for the doorknob and tried to twist it. Shaking her head, she mouthed, “Locked.”

  Logan made a circling motion with his weapon. Tessa nodded, and he retreated from the front door. He jogged along the side of the house. At each of the two windows, he tried to get a look inside the house, but the blind slats were tightly closed. At the back door, Logan put his shoulder to the frame and waited.

  He barely heard the sound of breaking glass over the echo of his own heartbeat in his ears. Tessa was going in the front door.

  Logan did the same. He used the butt of his gun to break a pane of glass in the back door. He reached through, turned the dead bolt, and then pushed the door open. He stepped into an empty kitchen. A pair of legs was visible through the doorway that led to the living room.

  Wanda.

  Logan stopped at the doorway, his shoulder pressed to the jamb, and peered around the corner. Straight ahead, Tessa stood in the empty living room, Wanda’s body at her feet. An arc of blood had sprayed across the carpet and one wall, indicating an arterial wound. To the right, he saw a short hallway and two closed doors. The layout seemed identical to Aurora’s cottage. Those doors should lead to the bedroom and bath.

  He crossed the room and knelt to assess Wanda.

  She lay on her back, sightless eyes staring up at the ceiling. A deep-red puddle was spreading around her torso. Reaching down, he pressed two fingers to her throat. No pulse. He holstered his gun, dropped to his knees, and began performing chest compressions. Tessa’s hand on his shoulder pulled him away.

  He rocked back on his haunches; the knees of his pants were soaked with blood.

  “You can’t save her,” Tessa whispered, pointing to Wanda’s neck and the gaping wound in it.

  Her throat was slashed.

  The puddle of blood had turned into a pond. Tessa was right. Wanda had already bled out.

  Logan pulled away, battling back memories of an explosion on the other side of the world and a wounded child he hadn’t been able to save. The warmth of the blood soaking his uniform was familiar in a way that threatened to incapacitate him, to take him back. He fought it.