Burning Proof (10 page)

BEFORE HIS MEETING
with Faye Fallon, Luke fielded an interesting call from the Riverside County Sheriff’s office. He picked Woody up for the drive to the coffee shop, and his friend noticed the grin right off.

“Don’t you look like the cat who ate the canary.”

“Remember our old friend Oscar Cardoza?”

“I do. Been watching the news for any indication they found bodies in his backyard.”

“Well, I don’t know why it hasn’t been on the news, but they did. They found three bodies buried on his property, and he was living off the Social Security of all three dead people.”

Woody arched his eyebrows. “You don’t say. I imagine defrauding Social Security will probably get him more time than the dead guys.”

Luke laughed. “Ah, my cynical friend. We collared a serial killer. I think we might be headed to Riverside to testify when the case finally gets to trial.”

“Humph.”

Laughing at Woody’s stoic disinterest, Luke said, “Anyway, they thanked us profusely for our work out there.”

“They
should
thank us. We do good work.”

They arrived at the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf early. Faye Fallon was meeting her cousin at a restaurant in the Marketplace, close to the coffee shop, so it was the logical spot to meet. The mercurial October weather had turned cold, and they hoped for an inside table. They were in luck. Woody took a seat while Luke stepped up to the counter to order.

He’d just sat down with two coffees when the door opened and she walked in. Luke recognized her because she had a picture posted to her blog. But the picture did her no justice. Faye Fallon was drop-dead gorgeous. Woody let out a low whistle Luke hoped Faye didn’t hear, and heads in the shop turned.

She looked like an actress. Long blonde hair held back in a shiny barrette, perfectly set, she was wearing a pretty dress that accentuated her trim figure. When she headed their way, Luke felt his mouth go dry.

“You must be Luke Murphy,” she said with a bright smile, stepping toward the table.

Luke stood, nearly spilling his coffee. Woody also stood.

“Mrs. Fallon.” Luke held his hand out.

“Please, it’s Faye.” She gripped his hand, then looked at Woody. “You must be the partner.”

For his part, Woody looked much less affected by Fallon than Luke felt.

“That’s me, the sidekick. Nice to meet you, Faye.” Woody shook her hand. “Can I get you something?”

“A small black coffee would be great.”

Woody moved off to purchase the coffee, and Luke and Fallon sat.

“It’s good to be out of the car,” Fallon said.

“That’s right. You had what, a two-hour drive?” He fidgeted, wondering why a beautiful woman could make him feel like a gangly high school kid again.

“Yes. But I’ll be staying over with my cousin, so I don’t have to go back tonight.”

Soon Woody was back with the coffee, and the three began discussing the case.

“We’re in,” Luke said. “The summary hooked us. We want to help solve this case.”

“Thank you so much.” Her smile lit up the whole shop, and for a second all Luke could do was nod and sip his coffee. Briefly he thought of Abby. She was promised to another man; there was nothing to keep Luke from finding out more about this beautiful, dedicated woman sitting across from him.

Woody jumped in. “How did you get involved in doing a, a . . . What do you call it? A crime blog?”

“I’ve always been interested in writing and crime. My husband was planning on joining the sheriff’s department when his enlistment was up.” Sadness marred her features.

Luke found his voice. “So sorry for your loss. That had to be tough.”

“It was
 
—it is
 
—but doing the blog, feeling like I’m helping others who are victimized, helps.”

“I’m not that computer savvy,” Woody said. “How does the blog help?”

“I hope it makes people aware of what’s going on in the community. And I’ve become a kind of liaison with local law
enforcement. I blog about crime in the Antelope Valley, trends, and good work done by the SD. I record tips from people who don’t want to talk to the deputies, and from time to time I highlight cold cases. That’s how I met Molly.”

“You met Molly?”

“Yes. Actually I first met her five years ago. I’ve lived in Lake Los Angeles my whole life. I remember when she was kidnapped. So her case was one of the first ones I profiled. I didn’t have much reach then, at least not what I have now, so nothing ever came from it. But seeing the way she’s lost ground in five years, my prayer is that you guys will be able to find the creep who did that to her.”

“How has she lost ground?”

“Well, she was strong five years ago, active in her church, living on her own in Lancaster. She wanted to be an EMT and was in school. Eventually she graduated and went to work for an ambulance company. But as time has passed, she’s been having some problems. PTSD they think.”

Luke nodded. “I know the syndrome. I’ve served with people who are suffering.”

“Yes, I met some of the guys from my husband’s unit who suffered with dreams, flashbacks, sometimes so debilitating they have difficulty functioning.” Her eyes held his for a moment, and Luke felt a connection click into place.

“I can see that you understand,” she continued. “As for Molly, the trauma seemed to drop right back in her lap like a lead ball with the ten-year anniversary. She began to cut herself, trying to re-create the marks on her wrists from the bonds. Then there are the flashbacks, and she wonders, because the guy was never caught, did she imagine the whole thing? At one
point a couple days ago she stepped into traffic and was hit by a car. Her leg and wrist were broken. She’s had to take a leave from her job and move back in with her parents in Tehachapi.”

“That sounds bad,” Woody said. “Are you thinking that solving the case will change things for her?”

“I don’t know. That’s my prayer. And I believe that seeing her attacker caught and punished should help.”

“I agree. I bet it will,” Luke said, thoughts now bouncing back to Abby and the Triple Seven. “I’d like to meet her.”

“That’s touchy. I haven’t completely convinced her mother that we aren’t giving her false hope. I’d like you to review the files, develop something, before I bring you to meet Molly. Is that okay?”

“Of course. The last thing we want to do is traumatize her further.”

Luke found himself fervently hoping they could find something new. He knew firsthand what false hope could do to people. He also found himself wanting to spend more time with Faye Fallon, and that kind of surprised him.

DURING THE LONG DRIVE NORTH
Abby tried to think about anything but police work and the shooting. Ethan had texted once, but he was busy and she didn’t expect texting at rest stops would be any kind of diversion.

Praying was still elusive. She tried but felt as though a barrier popped up every time she started a prayer. There was heaviness on her soul, an oppression she didn’t know how to crawl out from under. She turned the radio up, stopped often to get out and walk Bandit. It was on one of these stops that she noticed the car. A nondescript rental agency type car
 
—and she was certain the driver was watching her.

Fear perked her up in an instant. Would a protester be after her? She looked away and acted nonchalant, idly following Bandit as he sniffed the pet area bushes. The hair stood up on the back of her neck, and she wished she had her gun with her, but she’d left it in the car. The feeling quickly passed and she chastised herself for being paranoid.

Bandit did what he was supposed to, and she scooped it up and put it in the trash, glancing toward the dark sedan. The car
was still parked, but the driver was nowhere to be seen. Sighing and shaking her head, she got back in her car with Bandit and left the rest area. A short time later she saw the sedan coming up behind her fast. Her heart rate skyrocketed and she moved over, only to watch him fly by, traveling at least fifteen miles per hour faster than she was.

“My goodness.” She patted Bandit and took a deep breath to calm down. The sedan disappeared from view and she felt incredibly foolish to be so jumpy.

The rest of the drive passed without incident. Abby stopped for a stretch and a snack as it got dark, picking a fast-food restaurant in Redding, about three hours from home. She went through the drive-through and then parked and ate some fries in the car just because she didn’t want to leave Bandit. Her gaze roamed the darkening parking lot, and she stopped herself when she realized she was looking for bogeymen.

“What is wrong with me, Bandit? There’s no reason for anyone to be following me.”

It was late when she pulled off the highway onto the Lake Creek cutoff. Her aunt lived in a rural setting to be sure. The Lake Creek grange building followed by the historical society and a general store across the street constituted the downtown. A huge, thirteen thousand–acre private ranch took up much of Lake Creek, but there were smaller parcels dotting the unincorporated area. Dede’s place was about four miles away, close to a historic covered bridge, and she presided over a forty-acre spread. Abby yawned as she turned onto the gravel driveway that led to her aunt’s house.

Aunt Dede had raised Abby from age ten. The driveway, the shadows of trees in the darkness, took Abby back to that
time. Coming here after living in foster care in Los Angeles was like dying and going to heaven. Lake Creek was as far removed from Long Beach as possible. Dede’s two-story Craftsman-style home sat overlooking a creek-fed pond that had year-round water.

Lights were on in the kitchen, and she knew her aunt had waited up for her. The driveway circled around, passing the house, coming to a vintage barn Dede had remodeled into a guesthouse. As she made the circle around the barn, she passed the chicken coop and the livestock pens. Dede had a couple of horses, a few head of cattle, some goats, and a few chickens.

Abby completed the circle and parked under the carport next to her aunt’s Jeep. She remembered the first morning she’d woken up in her new bedroom. When she looked out the window, she saw deer feeding on vegetation near the pond. She thought she’d found paradise.

Warm feelings filled her as she yawned and turned off the ignition, but the oppression didn’t lift. Could she really be healed and refreshed here? She and Bandit climbed out as Dede and her Australian shepherd, Scout, came out the kitchen door.

For a minute Abby worried about how Scout and Bandit would get along. Her fears were allayed when the two dogs began circling and sniffing each other with wagging tails.

Abby sighed, so happy to be home, she hoped she didn’t start crying.

Dede hurried to her and enveloped her in a tight hug. “It’s good to see you, Abby.”

“Ditto.” Abby closed her eyes and smiled, not wanting the warm hug to end too soon. She could smell the fresh night air and her aunt’s perfume, and the warm feeling of being home, in
a safe place, calmed her angst, for a moment masking the darkness. Yes, she’d made the right decision to come home.

“Are you hungry?” Dede asked, pulling back and then linking her arm in Abby’s to draw her into the house. “I’ve got a pot of venison stew on the stove.”

Abby smiled and let her aunt pull her toward the house, mouth watering at the thought of a meal she’d not enjoyed in years. The shadowy car stayed in the back of her mind, but she was still hard-pressed to think of any reason anyone would have to follow her.

Abby forgot about the shadow car as the next day unfolded. She was too tired. Sleep had eluded her as flashbacks of the shooting invaded her thoughts, keeping her from winding down and shutting off. From the nightstand she retrieved her phone and saw two messages from Ethan waiting. She wrote back that she was tired; she didn’t feel like talking to anyone, not even Ethan at the moment.

Bright Oregon sunshine pouring through the upstairs window hurt her eyes. The familiar surroundings did have a minuscule calming effect. Her aunt had kept her room here for her all these years. Dede had spent years overseas as a missionary, and she knew it was important to have a place to come back to. She wanted to be certain Abby knew she had that place here in Lake Creek.

Bandit wagged his tail as she stretched, and Abby knew that the little dog wanted to go out. She pulled on some sweats and then the two of them went downstairs. In the kitchen Abby found a note on the coffeemaker.

Had some things to take care of in town. Coffee is ready to go; just press Start. Bacon and eggs in the fridge, or granola fresh from the mill. There are Oreos in the cookie jar, but eat breakfast first! Be back around noon. Dede.

The Oreo comment brought a wry smile to her lips because that was exactly what she felt like eating. The tasty cookie was her one big vice, her ultimate comfort food.
I don’t feel like eating breakfast first,
she thought as she picked up the granola. There was a historic flour mill nearby and they made the best granola, but she set the cereal down. She pressed the Start button on the coffee, then walked to the back door to let Bandit out. The house had a wraparound porch, and Abby stepped outside with the dog, shivering a bit as the morning air hit. It was much cooler here than at home. Fall was unequivocally in the air.

Abby walked around the porch as Bandit sniffed here and there. There were a couple new rocking chairs and a large swinging bench overlooking the pond. Abby noted them, but a yawn brought with it the desire to eat and then lie down. After a few minutes Bandit trotted back inside. She bet it was just a little too chilly for him.

Last night it had felt so good to be home, but now the angst had returned and a nagging thought had her mind in a vise:
I can’t stay here forever and run away from what’s waiting for me in Long Beach. What if I can’t put the shooting behind me and go back to work?

Abby fed the dog, then poured a cup of coffee and took a container of yogurt from the fridge. After a couple of bites her hunger was sated and she almost put the half-eaten container
back. Bad form, she thought and forced herself to finish. She tossed the empty carton away to concentrate on the coffee. Her favorite beverage didn’t taste very good this morning, and she gave up after a half cup, pouring the rest down the drain. She grabbed a handful of Oreos and marched upstairs again, Bandit at her heels.

Feelings of failure seemed to weigh her down, and after she finished the cookies, Abby crawled back into bed and pulled the covers over her head.