Deception with Murder (A Rilynne Evans Mystery, Book Two) (8 page)

Rilynne reached down and picked up the reports. “They show four calls pinging off of that tower in the last two months. I think we need to go back to the scene. If he was making frequent visits to the house, he might have hidden his journal there.”

*

The house was still taped off when they arrived. Other than the blood, which had not been cleaned up, the house was empty.

“I’ll start up stairs,” Matthews said, not pausing to look around.

When he disappeared onto the second floor, Rilynne leaned against the wall opposite the blood spatter and closed her eyes, concentrating on Villarreal and the house. After nearly ten minutes of not seeing anything, she gave up and started pacing around the room.

“Okay,” she said aloud to herself. “If I was going to hide something, where would I start?”

She stepped into the large kitchen and began opening all of the cabinets and drawers. Other than some warrantee paperwork for fixtures in the house, they were empty. She was just making her way into the living room when a voice came from the top of the stairs.

“Up here,” Matthews called out. Rilynne took the stairs two at a time and found him pulling a vent cover off of the wall in the first bedroom. “There’s something in here,” he grunted.

He tossed the cover to the ground and reached his hand up through the open hole, pulling out the worn maroon journal. As he flipped it open and thumbed through it, Rilynne saw a look of relief pass over his face. “Yeah, this looks like it. Let’s head back to the station.”

Rilynne started reading as Matthews backed out of the driveway.

“Wow, he really was thorough,” she said. “It looks like he wrote every detail in here, no matter how insignificant. Apparently Peterson is allergic to blueberries,” she grinned.

“Flip to the back and see what it was that made him think he was getting close to closing the case,” he said.

Rilynne flipped to the last page that had been written on and paused. “There are pages missing. It looks like four pages have been torn out. The last entry is dated a week before his death.”

“He must have thought that his cover could be in danger,” Matthews said. “I’ll turn around and we can go search the rest of the house.”

“No,” Rilynne said quickly. “We can send a forensic team out to look, but I doubt that he would have hidden them in the same place as the book. We should start working through this and see where we can get with his assignment. There might also be a hint in here about where we can find the other pages.”

Rilynne was still reading the journal when they walked into the station.

“I’m going to go swing by the lab and see if they have identified the trace,” Matthews said as they stepped into the elevator. “I’ll meet you in the conference room.”

R
ilynne had skimmed through half of Villarreal’s journal by the time Matthews walked back in. “Tell me you found something?” he asked wishfully.

“So far it appears that he put anything of importance in his reports,” she stated. “He did write some theories down, but he proved all of them inaccurate a page or two later.”

He leaned against the table, folding his arms in front of him. “Does it say who he was meeting at the house?”

“Actually, there’s no mention of the house at all. At least not in the first half,” she said, setting the journal down on the table in front of her. “Was Ben in the lab with the results of the trace?”

“It was a mix of a heavy duty motor oil and aluminum shavings. I asked Steele and Tylers to look into it and see where he would have been able to pick that combination up,” he said. “He seemed a little disappointed that you weren’t with me,” he said pointedly.

“Steele or Tylers?” She kept her gaze firmly on the journal. She could feel his eyes on her, but pretended to read. “That would be Ben Davis,” he answered.

“That’s probably because I’m always the one to go up there,” she said, stressing on ‘always’. “When’s the last time you went to the lab when you weren’t going with me?”

“Mhmm,” he mumbled as he laid the map back down on the table. “We know from the trace that was put on the bills where the ones that weren’t deposited in the account were spent. We can use that list to try and narrow down Tylers and Steele’s list when they have it.”

She sat the journal back down. “Wouldn’t some of the bills have been handed out to other customers to make change? That could spread them out all around the city.”

“That’s why Villarreal was making all of the payments in fifties and hundreds,” he explained. “That lessened the chance that they would be passed from hand to hand. So if we plot the places that they were used, we can see if any of the locations are near somewhere Shane could have picked up that trace.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll take the journal then if you want to work on that. I’ll let you know if he mentions any places that he visited or thought were relevant to the case.”

After another hour of reading, Rilynne came across something that struck her as odd.

“I think I may have something here,” she said. Matthews sat the stickers he had been using on the map down and walked over to her. “He said that he felt someone was betraying him.”

“Does he say who it was?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “I read forward a little, and he doesn’t mention it again. He doesn’t even say why he felt betrayed. It was just a one liner at the bottom of this page.” She held it out and pointed.

“Of course he wouldn’t add details. That would just make it easy for us.” Rilynne could tell by his tone that he was getting frustrated.

She pulled the journal back in front of her and picked up where she had left off. Unlike his copies of the reports that she looked through, reading the journal made her slightly uncomfortable. Villarreal had included not only things having to do with the case, but also his own feelings. Rifling through a person’s life, even after their death, always left her with an uneasy feeling. It was almost like reading someone’s diary, and in Villarreal’s case, it actually was.

His decision to take the assignment had been harder on his marriage than anyone had mentioned. He had written that prior to telling his wife he would take a desk job after the assignment was over, she had been talking about divorce. Every time they had arranged a meeting after that, however, he seemed to grow more and more cheerful. He had even mentioned renewing their vows.

“Wow,” she found herself saying aloud. “He really loved his wife.”

“He was very devoted to her,” Matthews said. “He told me that he knew after their first date that he was going to marry her. I think he would have proposed then if he could have.”

“She was very lucky to have him for as long as she did. Most women aren’t lucky enough to be loved to that degree.” She couldn’t help but let her mind drift back to the night that Christopher had proposed.

He had picked her up for their year and a half anniversary and taken her out for a night of miniature golf and bowling. After letting her win a round of golf, they had gone to the bowling alley next door. He had arranged with the manager before hand to change the pictures that popped up on the screen so when she bowled her first strike, his proposal flashed on the monitor in front of her. When she turned around, her jaw nearly on the floor, she found him down on one knee. It was something even she had not seen coming, but it made her happier than she could have ever imagined.

With a long sigh, she returned her focus to the journal.

“Check this out,” she said a few minutes later.

Matthews walked over and took the seat next to her, kicking his feet up on the table.

“Did you know that he had a beach house?” she asked. He shook his head and waited for her to continue.

“It looks like he inherited it about four months ago from his uncle. Judging by this he hadn’t even told his wife yet. He was planning on fixing it up as a surprise for her. ‘The perfect start to our future,’” she read aloud.

“Did he write down an address for the house?” he asked.

She flipped through the rest of the book before shaking her head.

“County records should have something,” he said. “If no one knew about it, he might have hid the journal pages there thinking they would be safe. I’ll see if I can find something. Does it say what his uncle’s name was?”

“Yeah,” she paused. “He called him Uncle Mike. He didn’t give a last name, though.”

“Let me know if you find anything else in the journal.” He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. “I’ll find the address for the beach house so we can check it out.” He left the conference room with her still sitting at the table.

It took her three hours to make it to the last page in the journal. “I figured it out,” she read aloud to Matthews as she walked out toward his desk. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. The ring leaders have to be…” She dropped the journal down on her desk. “That’s where the page ends. It looks like he either solved the case, or was getting really close. We need to find those missing pages. Did you have any luck tracking down the address of the beach house?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t very hard,” he replied. “He added it to his home owners insurance policy. They were able to give me the address.”

“Where is it?” she asked.

“It’s about a three hour drive from here,” he answered. “Wilcome is looking into the jurisdiction issues for us to see if the locals will allow us to have the scene.”

Rilynne pulled an evidence bag out of her desk and sealed the journal up in it. “I’m going to go drop this off in evidence and head home then. I’ve been putting off unpacking for days. If I don’t get it done soon, I have a feeling I’ll end up living out of boxes forever.”

The line in the evidence room was abnormally long, even for a Friday. It took Rilynne nearly thirty minutes to get the journal signed in and make it back to her desk. After grabbing her purse, she reached in her drawer for the blood stained shirt and walked toward the elevator.

She had just pushed the down button when Ben walked up behind her, bumping her with his hip. “Big plans tonight?”

“Oh yeah,” she said sarcastically as she stepped through the doors as they opened. “I have a date with a stack of moving boxes and a bottle of wine. You know how much I love unpacking.” She rolled her eyes as she reached toward the buttons.

“Well, if you want some company, I don’t have anything going on tonight. I can’t say that I’ll actually help you with the unpacking part, but I do a pretty good job refilling wine glasses.”

“You don’t have anything better to do on a Friday night than watch me drunkenly organize?” she asked.

“It’s either that or…” he stopped himself, following her out of the elevator. “Nope, nothing better. I’ll pick up a case of beer and meet you there. Do you want me to grab anything to eat?”

“I wouldn’t say no to a burger.”

“With swiss and cheddar right? And a side of ranch.”

Ben held the door open for her as they stepped out onto the street. “You know me so well,” she said with a smile.

*

Rilynne was just pulling her shirt on when she heard the front door shut. “I grabbed your mail on my way in. It looks like you haven’t checked it since you moved in,” she heard him call from the kitchen.

“That’s because I haven’t,” she admitted, walking out of her room. “I’m still not used to the mailbox being on the street. I’m always walking through the door when I remember and don’t feel like going back out to get it.”

“Ah,” he said. “Well here.” He held out the large stack of envelopes. “Now let’s eat before these get cold.” He tossed the to-go bag at her and walked into the dining room.

Rilynne had finished half of her burger when she started sifting through the mail. After the seventh letter addressed to “Current Resident”, she found one that sent tingles down her spine, making her feel like her insides were being twisted.

After slowly ripping the side of the envelope open, she pulled out the two-page letter and unfolded in.

The air left her lungs as her eyes flew rapidly across the page. Although it was right there in front of her, she thought that there must be some mistake. She just wasn’t ready, not yet.

“What is it?” Ben asked when he saw the look on her face.

She read over the letter again, but couldn’t see to form any words. Finally she just handed it over to him. After quickly reading it himself, he sat it back down on the table and leaned back in his chair, knuckles dragging across his chin.

“Death in absentia. Wow, that’s… big. Are you all right?” he asked gently.

“I knew it would eventually happen,” she found herself saying. “I just… It hasn’t even been a year and a half. I guess part of me always hoped there was a chance he could still be alive.”

“Doesn’t it usually take seven years to have someone declared dead if there isn’t a body?”

“A judge can have it ruled sooner if there’s enough evidence and if a family member requests. Sarah, Christopher’s sister, must have wanted to get some closure. I can’t say that I really blame her. I just wish that I would have known.”

He slid the letter across the table to her. “I take it the two of you don’t talk much?”

Rilynne shook her head. “She blames me for Christopher’s death. Although, she was never really a big fan of mine in the first place. I actually heard her trying to talk him out of marrying me after the rehearsal dinner.”

“Ouch,” he responded. “What was her problem with you? If you ask me, you’d be the perfect match for any guy.”

She looked up at him, but he kept his gaze trained on the table. Before she looked back down herself, she saw his ears reaching that familiar shade of pink. “Apparently a detective isn’t the best choice in a bride. There was something about me having a risky job and how having to raise kids alone with a career like his would be too difficult.”

“Well, it doesn’t sound like she was shy about her opinions.”

Rilynne laughed. “Not at all. She was good about putting on a sweet face in my presence, and after Christopher put her in her place after the rehearsal dinner, I don’t think that she said anything else to him. She always had that look about her when I was around, though.”

“The ‘I hate you but I’m going to play nice’ look?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

Ben nodded, but didn’t say anything. After several minutes of silence, he placed his hand gently on hers and stood up. “You look like you need a beer.”

“I actually feel like going for a run,” she said, leaning back.

“It’s almost midnight.”

“So I’ll go on the trail instead of the streets.”

“No,” he said firmly. “It’s too dark, and you’re going to get yourself lost or killed going out into the woods.”

Rilynne was shocked by his demanding tone, and couldn’t bring herself to argue. She was still sitting wide-eyed at the table when he came back with an opened beer and handed it to her.

He dropped back down in his chair and sat in silence, waiting for her to collect her thoughts. “It just doesn’t seem real,” she finally said before draining half of her beer in one swig.