Death Changes Everything (5 page)

Her mouth closed, and she took a ragged breath. She rubbed at her face with the back of her hand, further smearing the mascara. At least the feral look had faded from her eyes. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I knew as soon as I…saw him.” Her body shook.

“Maddie, honey,” said the neighbor, “I’m gonna let you to talk to the Detective. You give a yell if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Connie. I’m sorry to fall apart on you like this.”

“Honey, don’t you even think about that right now.” She gave Mrs. Hill’s shoulders a quick squeeze and left the room.

“Mrs. Hill…” began Matt.

“Maddie,” she broke in, her eyes not meeting his gaze. Her hand shook and she covered it with her other hand. “Everyone calls me Maddie.”

“I know this will be hard, but I have to ask you a few questions. You were out with friends this morning?”

“Y-yes. I went sh-shopping, then I met my friends…for lunch.” She twisted a fringe on her purse, her eyes distant. Matt had interviewed enough distraught family members to know he needed to give her time to tell her story in her own way. When she continued, her voice was barely a whisper. “I came home and found Steven…blood everywhere…”

“Was the door locked?”

Maddie blinked several times and tried to focus her eyes on Matt. “We don’t lock the doors.”

“Did you notice anything out of place?”

She shook her head. “No. Nothing. Everything was…just…normal.”

“Did your husband have enemies? Anyone who might want to hurt him?”

“He was my whole life.” She put her head in her hands and started to sob again. “What am I gonna do?”

Hearing Maddie, Connie came back in the room. “Are you okay, honey? Detective, couldn’t you do this another time?”

“Of course.” Matt put his card on the table beside Maddie and pulled Connie aside. Lowering his voice, he asked, “Could I speak to you privately?”

She looked at Maddie, who was oblivious to them, then nodded and led him into the living room. “How can I help?”

“You called in the report?”

“Yes. We were watching television when we heard Maddie screaming.”

“We?”

“My son, Tyler. He let you in. Of course, we ran out to see what was wrong. Poor thing was just standing in her front yard, wailing like a banshee. Never heard anything like it. Whole neighborhood came out. She just kept screaming,
He’s dead! He’s dead!
”

“Did you hear a gunshot?”

“We were watching one of those awful movies Ty likes. All gangsters and thugs. There was so much shooting on TV, I wouldn’t have known the difference.”

“Did you go inside the Hill house?”

“Gracious, no! Mr. Wilson did, though. He lives next door to them. Came out shaking like a leaf and told me to call the police. The way he practically fell down on the top step, I thought he was gonna faint.”

“What did you do next?”

“I told Ty to stay with him, you know, in case he had a stroke or something?” She shook her head and frowned. “Course everyone else was useless. Just stood around gawkin’ at Maddie. I told ‘em to clear out if they weren’t gonna do anything, then I brought her home with me and called the police.”

“Tyler was back home by the time I got here.”

“He came home soon as the police got here. Said the whole thing creeped him out.”

“How long have you known the Hills?”

“Forever. They were here when we moved in back when Ty was a baby.”

“Would you say they had a happy marriage?”

“We didn’t socialize, Detective. We weren’t in the same circles. Really, this may be the first time Maddie’s been in my house.”

“I’d like to talk to your son.”

“I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

“I’ll risk it.”

She left the room and returned with Tyler. He had an MP3 player in his hand, with one ear bud hanging loose and the other still in his ear. “Yeah?” His mother poked his arm. “What do you want?”

“Tyler, did Mr. Wilson say anything to you while you waited for the police?”

“Nope.”

“Did you hear any gunshots before Mrs. Hill started screaming?”

“Nah.”

“Did you ever hear the Hills argue? Did they seem happy to you?”

“Dude, they’re old. Like I care.”

“Tyler! Detective, I’m so sorry.” Connie gave her son a smack on the back of his head. “You mind your manners.”

Matt excused himself and went back across the street to where Altrez stood in the driveway. “Wilson have anything to say?”

“Might once he stops throwing up. Had to call an ambulance. Paramedics took him right before you got here.”

“Can you ask dispatch to see if he’s still there?”

Altrez nodded and spoke into the radio on his shoulder. The answer came back affirmative. “You heading over there?”

“May as well. Widow’s too upset to give me anything. Keep me posted if the neighbors have anything worth hearing.”

***

A cruiser was parked in the hospital’s lone police spot, so Matt tried his luck in the parking garage. The hospital had added another floor of parking as part of a recent expansion, but it was still a challenge to find a spot during visiting hours. He circled up the ramp, floor by floor, finally securing a spot at the very top.

Trudging down the stairs and across a covered walkway, he stopped at the information desk to see if Wilson was still in the emergency room. “Are you family?” asked the young woman at the desk.

Matt pulled his badge out of his pocket and showed it to her. “Police. I need to speak with Mr. Wilson.”

She took the badge and studied it carefully, giving him a look that made Matt think she might harbor unpleasant memories of the police. “I’m not s’posed to tell anybody but family.”

“Krystal, is it?” asked Matt, reading her employee badge. “I’ve got a dead body in a house not too far from here. Mr. Wilson is a witness and I am going to speak to him. You can tell me if he’s still at the hospital and where I can find him, or I can speak to your supervisor about it.”

A look came into her eyes that Matt remembered well from his days working a beat. She handed the badge back to him. “Then I guess that’s what you’ll have to do. She’s not here today.”

Turning away from the surly young woman, he pulled his notebook out of his pocket and made a note of her name. He would have the community affairs officer speak with the hospital. Her hostility couldn’t be allowed to interfere with a murder investigation. He hoped her supervisor would acquaint Krystal with the hospital’s policy on what information could and could not be shared with police.

“He’s here,” said the ER triage nurse when she saw Matt plodding down the hall. “Doc’s expecting you.” She buzzed him in.

“Brandy! I thought you quit this chicken outfit.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Gets in your blood.”

“You should see a doctor about that.” Both laughed, quietly, instinctively keeping their voices low. “You got a guy named Wilson here? Ambulance would have brought him in.”

“Grayson Wilson, yes, but you won’t get anything out of him tonight. Doc had to sedate him.”

“Man, I’m two for two with witnesses today. Got any idea when he’ll be back with us?”

“You harassing my patients again, Joyner?”

Matt turned and grinned at the man approaching him. Dr. Ted McNutt was a former Navy Corpsman, who’d served three tours in Iraq, and collected two Purple Hearts. Stateside, he’d graduated top of his class at medical school, completing his active duty service at the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda before coming home to Wyoming. A slight limp on his left side was the only visible scar from his wartime service.

“Would be if you docs wouldn’t keep knockin’ them out. Whatever happened to cowboy courage?”

McNutt laughed quietly. “That’d really knock ‘em out. Don’t stock that in the pharmacy though.”

McNutt reached the station and leaned on the counter. “Assume you’re here about Mr. Wilson? Hit me almost as hard, first time I saw a guy get shot to death. Gave him meds to stop the vomiting, but with his blood pressure, I was concerned he was gonna stroke out on me so I gave him a mild sedative.”

“He say anything?”

“Couldn’t shut him up, but nothing that’ll help you. Just kept going on about the blood.”

“Seems to be the general consensus. Gimme a call when he wakes up, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

5

Sunday dawned bright and cold, with the smell of snow in the air. Frost covered the ground and Jake had to rub his hands together to keep them warm enough to grip the trigger. He and Jeb had awakened before dawn and driven the four-wheeler to a clearing about five miles from the cabin. They hiked another half mile into the woods, near the same stream that eventually ran past the cabin.

They were crouched in the spot they’d gone to the day before, waiting in the half light for elk to come to the stream. Yesterday, only cow elk and their calves had appeared and Jake’s license was for a bull elk. The trees bore telltale signs that bulls had passed by, rubbing their antlers against the rough bark to scrape the velvet, but so far, they’d remained elusive.

Both men swiveled at the sound of wildlife near the stream. A deer stepped from the shelter of the trees and stood, head turning back and forth, looking for signs of danger. Seeing none, she took a few steps forward and bent her head to take a drink. Two spring fawns, a little more than half her size, joined her.

Jeb’s general deer license permitted him to take a doe, but a buck would yield at least fifteen pounds more meat so he waited. A bull elk would surpass a buck by almost a hundred pounds, so both had agreed that Jake would take first shot if he could get an elk and Jeb would only take a buck if no bull elk presented.

They sat in silence, watching the doe and her fawns fade into the woods, for perhaps another forty-five minutes. The frost had melted and Jake could no longer see his breath when he heard the unmistakable sound of a large animal moving through the woods. He shifted his crouch and slipped off the safety on his rifle.

The elk emerged from the trees about two hundred yards upstream. The bull held his head high, sniffing the air, but the slight breeze was blowing toward the men. Jake lifted his rifle and lined up his shot, waiting for the elk to move closer to the water. Jake refused to shoot any animal unless he could be sure of a clean kill.

The elk took one hesitant step, then another, and Jake moved his finger to the trigger. He held his breath, waiting for one more step. Before Jake could squeeze the trigger, he heard voices and the sound of hikers in the woods behind him. Just that quickly, the elk was gone, spooked back into the shelter of the trees.

Jake blew out his breath and took his finger off the trigger, putting the safety on. “Is it possible for them to make any more noise, do you think?”

“They’re out early.” Jeb checked his watch. “You think they’d know better than to hike this time of day during hunting season. Hope they’re at least wearing orange.” Jeb referred to the bright orange vests and caps that ensured the wearer would stand out against the wooded background. It was the law that hunters wear orange, and while the law didn’t apply to recreational users, it was common sense.

The voices of the hikers had faded and the men settled down to wait again. They would hunt for a few more hours, then they’d have to head back to Casper because Jake had to be in court on Monday. It frustrated him that he could spare so little time for hunting, but there was nothing to be done about it. At least if he were County Attorney, he would be able to take time off and not have to worry about his caseload.

Emma’s brother wanted him to go to Texas next year to hunt wild hogs. The animals had overrun parts of Texas, which was unwilling host to half the wild hog population of North America. The animals did extensive damage, both by tearing up the physical environment and by driving out native wildlife. A large hog would feed both families for a year.

Like most hunters, Jake hated trophy hunting. The idea of taking an animal’s life simply to have something to hang on the wall was abhorrent to him. Game meat was lean, organic, and hormone-free. Jake, like his father and grandfather before him, hunted to fill the freezer. What he couldn’t eat, he donated to local soup kitchens and food banks.

When the elk did not return, the men waded across the stream and walked up the far bank until they found the bull’s tracks. They followed the tracks into the woods, stepping carefully to avoid dislodging stones or breaking twigs that would warn the elk of their approach. They lost his tracks in a rocky area and fanned out until they found them again, then followed him until the day had become so warm they became concerned that even if they found the bull now, they would not be able to get the meat back to the cabin and on ice before it spoiled.

They traced their steps back to the ATV and headed back to the cabin. “You’re welcome to hang out here, Jeb. No reason for both of us to go back and forth to town. If you want to get in a little fishing, I’ll be back tomorrow night and we’ll have three more days before the season closes.”

“Never was much for fishing. I’ll ride back with you and check on my livestock. If we don’t get your elk, why don’t you pick up a general deer license and come up to the house with me next week?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

As they neared the freeway, Jake’s phone started beeping and chirping with a weekend’s worth of notifications. One of the things he liked best about the cabin was its poor cell reception. When the alerts finally quieted, he pulled over to the side of the road. He ran through the list of missed called and grimaced.

“Sorry Jeb, I’ve got to return a call.” He stepped out of the cab and walked around to the back, leaning against the tailgate. He punched call return and listened while the mother of the client who was due in court in the morning ranted about her most recent run-in with her son.

“I can’t do nuttin’ with him,” she finished. “Jes’ keeps runnin’ that mouth of his, sassin’ me. You tell that judge I don’t want him no more.”

The group home was full and there was no foster home option for the boy, who’d blown out of foster care the last time his mother kicked him out. His mother had sworn everything was fine at home during the last case management meeting so he’d have a lot of work to do before the nine o’clock hearing. That is, assuming the mother hadn’t changed her mind again by then.

He hung up and decided to check his voicemail before making the hour-long drive home. There was a message from Steven Hill about the burglary and one from Matt, asking him to call when he got back to town. Two more messages from Matt followed the first. The second, left only twenty minutes ago. “Hey bud, you coming home today? Give me a call when you get this.” Jake punched Matt’s number but the call went straight to voicemail. 

***

“I was takin’ a nap when I heard Miz Maddie screamin’ like a pole cat fightin’ a dirt dog.” Grayson Wilson was a journeyman electrician who hadn’t lived in the South since segregation. Under stress, the dialect of his childhood resurfaced and this certainly qualified as a stressful situation. Even after telling his story to dozens of nurses and orderlies, the horror of seeing his neighbor’s dead body hadn’t faded.

“Did you hear anything before Mrs. Hill’s screams?”

“Nah, mah wife usta tell me I could outsnore a freight train so it’d take one t’wake me up.”

“Mrs. Wilson is…?”

“Gone, I’m sorry to say.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. When did she die?”

Wilson snorted, “Ain’t said nuttin’ ‘bout her bein’ dead, jes’ gone. Miz Maddie, she was screamin’ her head off, so I goes out to see what’s what. Miz Connie, she got her to stop yellin’ long enough to tell us her husband done been shot.”

“So you went inside to check on him?”

“Thought he mighta needed help.”

“When you went into the house, did you notice anything unusual or out of place?”

“Cain’t say as I did.”

“Did you hear anyone moving around in the house?”

“Didn’t hear nuttin’.”

“How long did it take you to find Mr. Hill?”

“Not long. He weren’t hard ta find.”

“Did you go into the office? Touch anything?”

“I surefire did not! Weren’t nuttin’ I could do for him. Never saw nuttin’ like that afore and I don’t never want to see the likes a that ag’in.”

“And what did you do then?”

“I got outta there quick as my feet could carry me. Sat down on the steps and didn’ budge ‘til the police come.”

“Did you see anybody while you were sitting there?”

“Jes’ Miz Connie’s boy. He come and set with me.” Wilson chuckled. “Didn’ look none too happy ‘bout it, but his mama tol’ him to set there with me, so he did.”

“Did he go inside the house?”

“Jes set there lis’nen to that music of his ‘til we heard the siren, then he beat feet.”

Matt thanked Mr. Wilson, gave him his card, and asked him to call if he thought of anything else. Outside, this time with his car in the police spot, he called Cam Ellwood.

“Lab.”

“What can you tell me, Cam?”

“Yeah right. Nobody else is crazy enough to work on Sunday.”

“Just finished talking to Wilson. He says he went into the house but not the office.”

“I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t have gone in there if the good people of Casper weren’t paying me to do it.”

“Got anything for me on the prints?”

“Still processing.”

Matt hung up his phone and picked up his radio. The dispatcher put him through to Officer Altrez. “Where are you, Luis?”

“Mall.”

“Meet you at the recycle station in fifteen.”

“Ten-four.”

Eighteen minutes later, Matt was back in his car. Altrez’s team had thoroughly searched the house and canvassed the neighborhood, but nothing of interest had been found and no one reported seeing anything prior to hearing Maddie Hill scream.

He noticed a missed call from Jake and checked his voicemail. Since Jake would not be home for at least an hour, he decided he had time for lunch. He made another call. “Kristy? I find myself with a free hour and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend it with. You free for lunch?”