Find Me If You Dare (The Chronicles of Elizabeth Marshall Book 2) (2 page)

                       Chapter Four

Frame by frame the footage went backward, everything moving in slow motion. Logan and I looked as though we were going back under the trailer but in reverse, then coming out again. The broken white lattice fence was now whole. The camera was scanning the crowd.

“Wait!” I called, inching closer to the monitor as the footage froze. “Right there!”

“What do you see?” Logan quietly asked.

“It’s Mick.” I pointed to the screen.

“Who’s Mick?” Lacy and Doug asked in unison.

With one finger I touched the monitor, tracing the outline of a figure. There were three teenage boys standing together. They looked like normal teenagers. One had long black hair, a narrow face and gauges in his ears. He had a black T-shirt with a skull on it and an over-sized gray jacket.
The other was slightly taller with white-blond hair spiked into a faux-hawk, a T-shirt with an athletic logo on it and a plaid jacket.

The third figure in the group was the one that caught my eye. He stayed slightly behind the other two. He had a too-large black hoodie
on that covered most of his face. His shoulders were hunched forward and it seemed as though he was trying to blend into the crowd. He also seemed to notice that the camera was there and carefully kept his face turned away to avoid it.

I might have never given him a second glance, but when the camera was about to turn away, a tiny wisp of orange-red hair escaped the hood. His stance and demeanor were mascu
line. I would probably never have noticed him, if I hadn’t met him before.

“That’s Mick,” I confirmed again.

“Do you mean…?” Logan gave me a look. He was asking me if Mick was one of the ‘family’. He didn’t want to ask out loud. Not with two very curious members of the media right next to us.

I nodded
silently, my eyes pleading with his for what to do next. It only took him a moment before he moved into action.

“Doug, I need a copy of this entire footage sent to me
as soon as possible,” Logan reached in his back pocket and pulled out his business card. He pointed to his secure email address at the police station. “Can you do that?”

“Yes,” Doug answered, s
eemingly surprised that we would take notice of such a non-descript figure.

Logan took me by the arm and started guiding me back towards his car.

“Wait,” Lacy called after us, running to catch up, “we had a deal. There’s something here, isn’t there. You promised us. Exclusive rights, remember? What did you see on that film?”

Logan stopped, as though just remembering the agreement.
He didn’t say anything for a moment. I could tell he was debating how much to divulge and how much information to keep to himself. He turned around slowly, carefully choosing his words.

“You’re right,” he agreed hesitantly. Lacy’s eyes widened and her face lit up.
I could tell she was already envisioning herself as the reporter getting the exclusive on a big breaking story. To finally get to cover a major story, this was the kind of thing that made a career. “I have to run a few things past my police chief first though. There’s a lot we’re still just putting together. Meet me at the Riverview Police station. Don’t air any of that coverage yet. As soon as we’re ready to make a statement, you’ll get the story first.”

Lacy stood frozen for a moment, thinking through what Logan had just offered her.  I could tell when it all seemed to click for her. She turned around and jogged back to the news van, eager to share the possible exclusive with Doug.

“Come on,” Logan was guiding my arm again, “let’s get you back to my office.”

“But what about the search?” I asked, looking around at the police cars still parked all around and the officers
continuing their investigations.

“We have plenty of coverage here now,” he assured me as we reached his car and he helped me into the passenger seat, “it’s more important now that we get back to the department and I contact the other police jurisdictions where the m
urders occurred. If there is a link, if we really have a serial killer on our hands, this entire operation needs to be coordinated.”

“My car?” I questioned.

“We’ll come back and get it later. Besides,” he gave me regretful look, “it has to be searched for fingerprints and any other evidence now.”

We passed Detective Hammond just before
we turned onto the street to exit the trailer court. Logan explained to him why we were headed back to the department and asked Hammond to call in CSI for my car. Fortunately, Don Hammond, Logan’s partner, had been working on this case with him since the beginning and knew by now not to question what new twist was going to come in this case.

As we turned onto the street and headed just a few miles away to the police station I was stunned to realize it was only just early afternoon. This day already seemed like one of the longest in my life. I couldn’t imagine it getting any worse.

I was wrong.

                         Chapter Five

A very nice office assistant named Ruth Ann was scanning my fingerprints. It was a digital scanner, which was good because you didn’t have to worry about getting ink all over your hands. The only thing was you had to roll each finger just right in order to get a complete scan. If you didn’t, you would get a rejection signal and have to scan again.

My hands were shaking so badly from the events of the day
that we were on the third try, each of the ten fingers needing to be just right. Ruth Ann was being very patient so when I heard my cell phone ring, I didn’t dare even look to see who it was.

“Almost there,” she encouraged. She was an older woman with dark auburn hair and a kind smile. I could tell
she had a lot of experience at this. I imagine she must have fingerprinted every kind of criminal as well as school teachers and federal employees who needed fingerprints for background checks. “There we go, all done. You did a great job.”

“Thank you,” I barely managed to tell her before Logan came to the door to check on me.

“Thanks Ruth Ann,” he gave her a grateful smile, “Caitlyn, I’m meeting with the Chief right now. I’d like to have you there.”

 
I followed him down the hall to a large office. A sign on the door read “Police Chief – Jason Brickman”. As I followed Logan into the office, the police chief sat at his large, cluttered desk. Even sitting down, he was a tall man. He looked to be in his late fifties, although still in good shape for his age. His short hair was dark brown and graying at the temples. He looked up at our entrance and I immediately noticed a pair of intelligent hazel eyes.

A part of his messy desk had been cleared and a small, metal, decorated box sat there, wrapped in a clear evidence bag. There were also several newspaper articles
and a hand-written letter spread out in front of him, each wrapped in the same clear plastic bags.

“Chief, this is Caitlyn Stewart,” Logan introduced me as we entered. He motioned me to one of two chairs sitting across from the police chief. I sat in the chair indicated as he continued. “I spoke to you about her. She was a childhood friend of Elizabeth Marshall. She’s been very helpful on this case.”

“Ms. Stewart,” the Chief nodded in my direction. I tried not to blush at Logan’s complement.

“
Please, call me Caitlyn.”

“Caitlyn then.” He acknowledged then turned a penetrating look at Logan. “Now, let me get this straight. You were both there to see the trailer, the murder scene, being demolished.
While you were there, you got a call from Jessica down at county and she said she found some secret message on a painting you found earlier at the crime scene?”

“Yes,” Logan agreed
from where he stood next to the chief’s desk. He seemed too keyed up to sit. He slid a piece of paper across the desk to the chief. I remembered the piece of paper but it seemed like days ago since I watched Logan write it, instead of just this morning. I even remembered the words.

“Look under my home. You will find the answers. Inside the metal box. You’ll find the truth. Help me. Keep it safe.”

“Now, you’re telling me that based on this information that was found on a painting of a dragon…” His bushy eyebrows rose at that word, “the two of you decided to dive under a half demolished trailer where you found this box?”

He motioned to the metal box on his desk. His tone was half disbelieving and half confused.
I had to admit, the way he was describing it, it did make me and Logan look like we’d both lost our minds.

“Yes, that’s where we found the letter and the newspaper articles,” Logan answered.
It seemed to be taking all of his patience not to pace around the office. He stood still but I could feel the energy radiating off of him. I could tell he didn’t want to be standing here explaining all this to his police chief. He wanted to be moving.  He wanted to take action on this immediately.

Chief Brickman read over the letter penned by the late Barbara Marshall then read over each newspaper article. He pinched the bridge of his nose as if just realizing what a large-scale operation this might be.
He let out a heavy sigh and picked up his phone and dialed an extension.

“Ruth Ann, who’s back from the trailer park?”
He asked. He paused for a moment and waited for her reply. “Ok, send them into my office please.”

Within minutes there were several uniformed and plain-clothed officers coming into the chief’s office. I sat there silently as he gave out directions and assignments. He gave the assembled officers a quick briefing on
what was found in the letter and newspaper articles.

“I’ll make the call to the Feds myself,” he grimaced, not seeming to be too pleased with the thought. “Sawyer,” he pointed at Logan, “
I want you coordinating this. Use the briefing room. The Feds might come in and take over. If they do, we need to be in full cooperation. I want you calling St. George P.D., tell them what we have. See if they’ll send us the files on the murder that took place there. Look for any connections. Find out about the symbol on the victim. See if it’s a match. Send them the photo that we have of the symbol.”

He found the newspaper article with the small artist’s rendering of the strange symbol. 

“Likewise, Olsen, I want you calling Evanston P.D. Chambers, you call Boise. Graves I want you to contact Sandy, see if they have any unsolved murders around the same time frame. Erickson, do the same with Colorado Springs. Let’s get a copy of this symbol and get it out to every one of those jurisdictions. Report back to Detective Sawyer or myself with whatever information you find.”

The officers quickly dispersed back to their own office areas, eager to get to work.

“Come on, Caitlyn,” Logan said as he helped me to my feet, “let’s get back to the briefing room. I have some calls to make.”

I followed him to the door but the chief stopped him before we could leave the room.

“Sawyer,” he called. Logan turned around. “We still have officers out canvassing the area, don’t we?”

“Yes,” Logan confirmed.

He gave me a sharp look then glanced back at Logan.

“Do you think it’s wise to have a civilian in the middle of all this?” There was no question he was referring to me.

“Well, Chief,” Logan replied, looking him directly in the eyes, “you read the letter. Until we locate Elizabeth Marshall, I think we’d better keep a close eye on Ms. Stewart.”

My stomach churned at his words.