Chasing Shadows Page 8

  “Yes, yes, the woman found in Prate,” Dr. Alda rudely interrupted Sarah. “Did you say you were a homicide detective?”

  “Yes.”

  “It figures,” Dr. Alda snorted. “Well, I’ll admit Paul could use the help on this one. As long as you big-city detectives don’t stick around acting like you know everything when in fact you’re a bunch of outsiders wasting time on the taxpayer's dollar—”

  “Doctor please, the autopsy,” Sarah cut in. “What did it show?”

  Dr. Alda snatched up a cup of coffee and drained it. “The woman’s cause of death was a lethal dose of a drug used to put animals to sleep...and I don't mean to dream, detective.”

  “What's the name of the drug?”

  Dr. Alda gave Sarah the name of the drug used to kill Rebecca and explained he had found the injection mark on her skin. “I also found signs of a violent struggle. There were bruises and lacerations on the torso, face, arms and legs. I found skin under the fingernails, which shows how violent the struggle was. But the struggle probably ended when her killer sedated her with chloroform. I found heavy traces of chloroform in the woman’s lungs and bloodstream, along with the drug that ended her life.”

  Sarah felt tears begin falling from her eyes. “Thank you, Dr. Alda.”

  “Don't thank me for nothing,” Dr. Alda objected. “You just find the man who killed this poor woman,” he said and hung up without ceremony.

  Sarah set down Paul's phone and wiped at her tears. “Autopsy report shows that Rebecca was attacked, probably kidnapped, and drugged to death,” she explained.

  “Oh dear,” Amanda gasped.

  Nate shook his head. “Shameful,” he grunted.

  Sarah wiped at her tears again and called Pete. “Pete, Rebecca's autopsy report just came through,” Sarah said, struggling for a moment to control her voice. Then she told Pete every word Dr. Alda had said.

  “Okay, kid, I'm going to give the doc a call myself and get a hard copy of the report faxed over. I'll also run a check on the drug used to kill Rebecca and see what I come up with.”

  “Have her body returned back to Los Angeles, Pete, and contact her nearest family member,” Sarah said.

  Pete heard tears in Sarah's voice. “You always did take this job hard, kid. I know you were close to her, too. I'll make the necessary calls. Watch your backside, as always.”

  Sarah promised Pete that she would stay safe and hung up. She walked back outside into the fresh morning air of Prate with Amanda by her side, the puppy in her arms, and Nate trailing them protectively. “Nate, drive us down to the garage, please. I want to get my jeep and look around.”

  Nate folded his arms together. “Sarah,” he said in a clear and urgent voice, “we got a a killer to catch. Now, you better clear your brain, girl.”

  “My brain is clear,” Sarah promised. She took a deep breath and willed her emotions about Rebecca’s death to wait until later.

  “Good,” Nate said, seeing her resolve. He watched Amanda climb into the passenger side of his truck with Mittens. “Now, you better start asking yourself what the killer might be thinking right about now.”

  Sarah looked at the little stores empty and sleeping on Main Street. Prate might feel like an emptying, dying town, but it was also a quiet, small community filled with people who lived simple lives and raised good families. Now, because of her, a deadly killer was loose and casting a dark shadow over the town. “Well, a few of my questions are answered,” she said. “I think the killer kidnapped Rebecca because he believed she had warned me to stay out of Los Angeles. Rebecca was probably in the killer's car when I called her.”

  “That’s awful,” Amanda said, horrorstruck. But she knew her best friend needed to keep working out the details. “Keep talking,” she urged.

  “I'm still not sure how the killer knew my location,” Sarah confessed.

  “Cell phone?” Nate asked.

  “That's what I'm thinking,” Sarah replied. “The killer had to have tracked my cell phone.”

  “Is that possible?” Nate asked.

  “Anything is possible,” Sarah said in a miserable voice. “Sheriff Bufford said the killer is a practically a kid. Kids are smart today, Nate. It's not like when you were growing up. Today, kids are raised with every kind of technology you can imagine. I've seen four-year-old babies who can text people.”

  Nate listened to Sarah with careful patience. “So this kid is talented when with those little machines people keep in their pockets all the time.”

  “It's very possible he's not only talented but extremely skilled,” Sarah pointed out.

  “So all the better to stay where the noise of the world can't touch you,” Nate said and motioned around with his arms. “Prate may be small, girl, but she ain't noisy. You tossed your cell phone and you drive a jeep that ain't new or nothing fancy. So you just keep staying in the dark and make this dangerous kid seek you out, because right now he don't have a clue as to where you're gonna be.”

  Sarah stared at Nate. The old man’s logic was amazing in her eyes. “Nate, you're a brilliant, brilliant, man.”

  “Nah, just used to letting common sense do my thinking for me. You shot out the windshield to that fancy car and scared off that boy for a bit. Sheriff Bufford is running out of town like a scared cat. You've got a few hours to think and make a plan just as long as you stay in the shadows instead of stepping back into the spotlight.”

  Sarah bit down on her lower lip and looked at Nate's truck. “Amanda, we're going to walk down to the garage and leave Nate's truck here.”

  Amanda made an exasperated face – she had expected this – and jumped out of the truck with Mittens. “Let me guess, we're not going to be driving around in your jeep either, right, love?”

  “Nope,” Sarah said and patted Mittens on her head.

  Nate smiled. “That's my girl.”

  Sarah decided to rent a rundown truck from a man improbably named Furrow Brown. Furrow Brown owned the local garage in Prate, and he was a nice enough fella who thought Sarah was mighty pretty. Of course, Furrow was sixty-nine years old and allowed himself to flirt with young women who in return smiled a pretty smile at him. Sarah was no exception. “Now, the fourth gear sticks some,” Furrow told Sarah in a warm voice.

  Nate rolled his eyes. “Furrow Brown, you ain't never gonna change,” he chuckled.

  “Who says I want to,” Furrow winked at Nate and smiled over his shoulder at Amanda. “Being a little old man can be fun sometimes.”

  Amanda grinned. She liked Furrow. “I bet.”

  “You're just a baby,” Nate told Furrow.

  “Maybe in your eyes, but my body sure tells me different,” Furrow corrected Nate and focused back on Sarah. His face grew serious. “Word around town is there's been a killing. Is that so?”

  Sarah kept her eyes on the run-down truck and then stuck her head into the driver's seat and studied the tricky gear shift. The inside of the truck smelled like oil and gas. “Mr. Brown, who told you that?” she asked.

  Furrow shrugged his shoulders. “Word gets around,” he said and glanced up at the morning sun. The parking lot in front of his garage was deserted. Only oil stains and a few loose tools greeted them when they had walked up. Most folks were staying home because of the murder and those who were brave enough to venture out didn't need their cars fixed. “Word gets around,” he said again and let his eyes fall on a vacant lot across the street. He spotted a few stray cats playing around a used tire.

  “I see,” Sarah said and stood back up. “I'll take this truck, Mr. Brown. I don't know how long I'll need it, though. But in the meantime,” Sarah said in a careful voice, “I need you to drive my jeep to a discreet location and park it.”

  “Sure enough?” Furrow asked and hitched up his gray work slacks.

  “Please,” Sarah urged Furrow, “be careful. After you hide my jeep, drop off my keys at the courthouse with a note detailing the location of my jeep.”

  “Sure enough?” Furrow ask
ed again. “Real spy stuff, right here in Prate.”

  “I'll get the luggage out of your jeep,” Nate told Sarah and rolled his eyes at Furrow. “Spy stuff...good grief.”

  Amanda giggled and handed the puppy to Sarah. “I'll help Nate with our luggage,” she said and gave Sarah a desperate look. “Please, love, I want a shower and a fresh dress.”

  “Me too,” Sarah assured Amanda. Amanda sighed a breath of relief and hurried over to the jeep and began helping Nate. “Mr. Brown, there has been a murder,” Sarah told Furrow, “but the woman who was killed was from Los Angeles. The killing is not connected to Prate in any way. Unfortunately, Prate was caught in the middle.”

  “Sure enough?” Furrow repeated and rubbed his the scraggly whiskers on his chin. “Well, a little excitement sure ain't gonna hurt this sleepy old town none,” he told Sarah. “Folks need to be shook up every now and then.”

  Sarah looked past Furrow toward his greasy garage. The poor man sure needed some business, but wasn't bound to fix a single car anytime soon. “Please be careful hiding my jeep,” she told Furrow.

  “Old Furrow Brown is a clever man,” Furrow tipped a wink at Sarah. “And Old Furrow Brown has seen that gray BMW driving around this morning, too. I ain't stupid, Detective. I know what to keep my eyes peeled out for, you don't have to worry your pretty little face one little bit.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Brown,” Sarah said in a relieved voice. She hated to ask the man to place his life in danger, but she needed a distraction.

  Furrow winked at Sarah again. “Call me Furrow,” he smiled.

  “Furrow it is,” Sarah smiled back and jumped into the truck with Mittens and slid into the middle of the seat. Five minutes later, Nate had the truck moving back toward his house. “Air feels nice,” Sarah said, adoring how the gentle spring wind came in through the rolled-down windows and played in her hair.

  “Yep,” Nate said with his elbow hanging out of the window.

  “Sure does,” Amanda agreed.

  Sarah settled Mittens in her lap. “The killer fired blanks at us yesterday not because he was trying to scare me out of Prate,” she explained. “I can see that now. He could have fired live bullets, though.”

  “Why does this guy want you back in Los Angeles so bad?” Amanda asked.

  “Good question, bug. I think we're going to find some of our answers hidden under the doormat at J&P Brothers,” Sarah replied. She scratched Mittens ears. Mittens dropped her head down onto Sarah's lap and drifted off to sleep.

  “But...we're in Prate,” Amanda said, confused.

  “Yes, we are,” Sarah said in a grateful voice and smiled at Nate. “When we drive back into town later today I'm going to call J&P Brothers and ask a few questions. My gut is telling me this mess is somehow related to the dead stuntman.”

  “What stuntman?” Nate asked.

  Sarah slowly explained about the case from her past involving the J&P Brothers. “I never did solve that case, Nate, and had to toss it into the cold files.” Sarah looked out of the passenger's window at an open farm field rolling by. She spotted a man on a tractor working the field. The sight of the farmer was soothing to her eyes. “Rebecca told me J&P Brothers were interested in turning my books into movies. We now know that the killer was just setting a trap to lure me to Los Angeles. However, I don't think the killer expected Rebecca to be so sharp-minded. It caused him problems.”

  “I hate to say this, love,” Amanda said in a regretful tone, “but Rebecca might have saved our lives by dying.”

  “She was a martyr. Like Jesus,” Nate nodded. “He who died so we could live.”

  “Amen to that,” Sarah agreed. She looked at Amanda and considered her words. “Maybe?”

  Amanda continued. “I was thinking about why the killer didn't just kill Rebecca in Los Angeles. He could have, you know. But instead, he seemed very determined to use her death as some kind of a sick statement. It's like...well, in my mind, he was flexing his muscles at you...his intellectual prowess.”

  “Makes sense to me.” Nate agreed. “Kid likes to show off and make a point.”

  “And the killer wanted to prove to me that he was in charge,” Sarah said. “Maybe he never planned to kill Rebecca, but used her death to his advantage—at least, that's what he might have thought. It's hard to tell what a killer is really thinking, guys. But it does seem Rebecca threw a kink into the killer's plan and forced him to improvise.”

  “Whatever trap this jerk had laid out,” Amanda said, “it's all wrapped up in a nice, tidy little box in Los Angeles.”

  Sarah agreed. “That's why the killer is trying to force me back there,” she replied. “It's starting to make sense in my mind now, more so than last night.”

  “Only natural for the mind to work out the rough spots over time and clear up the fog,” Nate explained. “You ladies had a poison pie thrown in your face all at once and now you're wiping the filling out of your eyes and seeing a little more clearly.”

  “Speaking of seeing more clearly,” Sarah told Nate and pointed to an approaching speed limit sign, “that's about where I threw my cell phone out. Pull over, okay?”

  Nate eased the truck off the road and studied the wooded area. “Okay,” he said and opened the driver's side door, “everyone out and look for one of them small phones.”

  Sarah set Mittens down on the seat and climbed out of the truck with Amanda. Together they followed Nate over to the wood line and began searching through the tall, lush green grass there. Sarah walked over to a thick pine tree, squatted down, and ran her hand through the grass. In larger cities, the grass would have been littered with cans, trash, and cigarette butts. But out in the country, the land was clean, untouched by urban indifference. “I'm sure I threw my phone in this area,” she said.

  Nate bent down and examined the grass and then began searching behind trees. Amanda began hopping around in a squatted down position, looking for all the world like a grasshopper as she jumped from one location to the next, keeping her eyes peeled on the ground. “Nothing yet, love.”

  Sarah narrowed her eyes and began crawling around, feeling through the grass, looking behind trees, and then backtracked her movements. Nate eventually walked over to Sarah and shook his head. Amanda joined him. “If only I hadn’t walked out of my cabin and forgot my cell phone,” Amanda told Sarah, “I could call your phone so we could follow the sound.”

  Sarah stood up and brushed grass off her knees. “June Bug, my phone isn't here,” she said in a confident voice. “I'm grateful you forgot your phone. If the killer has my phone, and I'm sure he does, I sure don't want him to find out your number.”

  “Good point,” Amanda said in a quick voice.

  Nate brushed dirt off his pants. “You sure that dangerous kid has your cell phone?”

  “Pretty sure,” Sarah replied. “Come on, let's go.”

  Sarah walked back to the truck and jumped in. An hour later, after taking a long shower and changing into a fresh dress in a shade of pale green, she walked into Nate's kitchen, made herself a cup of coffee, and sat down at the kitchen table. “Amanda is changing...for the hundredth time,” she told Nate with a grin.

  Nate sipped his coffee. “She's a faithful friend,” he said in a pleased tone. “Friends like her become like a sister to you real quick.”

  “I know,” Sarah smiled and thought of Amanda's silly and beautiful face. “She's a very special treasure. I've...placed her life in danger quite a few times...and she still stands by my side.”

  “That's because she loves you,” Nate smiled. “And you love her. You two are sisters at heart, Sarah. And that is a gift from the Lord.”

  “I know,” Sarah agreed. She looked down at her coffee and then back up at Nate. “Amanda was worried I might move back to Los Angeles.”

  “Yep.”

  “I could never leave her,” Sarah confessed without realizing that Amanda had walked into the dining room and stopped to listen. “When my husband divorced me I felt...well, I fel
t it was time to make a change in my life. So,” Sarah took a sip of her coffee, “I relocated to Alaska. Why? Maybe I was searching for a place to hide and lick my wounds.”

  “Most likely,” Nate agreed.

  “I met Amanda in the little town I relocated to and we've been close ever since. She's been amazing, Nate. I can't tell you how many tears that woman has wiped out of my eyes,” Sarah explained in a loving voice. “If it hadn't been for Amanda...I call her June Bug...I don't think I would have made it through my divorce.”

  “Amanda is a special lady.”

  Sarah thought back to the menacing snowman she found standing in her front yard one day, the case that had started it all and brought her and Amanda together. She told Nate about the case, and working with Conrad. “That crazy model was going to kill both me and Conrad. Just when I thought we were going to die, Amanda appeared and slugged the model in her face and saved our lives. She's been a real hero, all the way. I owe her so much, Nate. I wish I….I wish I could tell Amanda how much I love her.”

  “You don't have to,” Amanda said and stepped into kitchen with tears in her eyes. “I already know,” she said and held out her arms.

  Sarah felt tears slip from her eyes, stood up, and hugged Amanda as tight as she could. “I'm so grateful for you, June Bug.”

  “As I am for you,” Amanda whispered and hugged Sarah back. “When we get home we'll work on your coffee shop and make it real spiffy and then we'll go shopping at O’Mally’s and eat at the diner and watch romantic comedies and paint each other's nails and...oh, all kind of girly stuff.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” Sarah said laughing and wiped at her tears. But first, we're going to have our all-girls road trip, June Bug. I'm taking you to Los Angeles and we're going to shop until we drop.”

  Nate smiled. It sure was great to see the two women bond within their hearts. “I got us cabbage and cornbread cooking. We'll eat before we drive back into town. Old Nate needs his nourishment.”

  Amanda straightened out the dark blue dress she had finally chosen and sat down. Her hair was still wet from the hot shower but that was just fine with her. “I'm hungry,” she admitted and rubbed her tummy. “My, that cabbage smells good.”