Spiraled (Callahan & McLane Book 3) (8 page)

“Then we won’t need it for very long.” Mason raised his brows. “I’m not trying to be an asshole. We’re searching for answers about the deaths of four people, including your son. Our investigation is going to cause some havoc in your lives and routines, but I think you want an explanation as much as we do, right?”

A murky and heavy aura descended over the table. The atmosphere in the room had started with sorrow and confusion but now distrust and anger bled through them.

“Are you going to tow our cars?” Sally asked, breaking the stalemate. Her nervous gaze darted between the investigators; she was uncertain whom to ask.

“I don’t know. That’ll be up to the evidence team. I suspect not,” said Ray.

“Did you find Justin’s car?” asked Eric.

“Not yet. We just got the description of his car a few hours ago. We’ll find it,” said Mason. They hadn’t released the car’s description to the public. If it had been in the parking garage, they should have heard by now, but there were plenty of side streets where the young man could have parked to walk to the mall. Someone must have complained about a strange car parked on their street in one of the thousands of leads called in since the shooting.

“Are you going to publicly say who the shooter is? Is it going to be all over the news?” Sally whispered.

Mason took a deep breath. “He’s an adult. We’ve got no reason to hold back that information. Yes, everyone is going to know. You’ve contacted an attorney, right?” Eric gave a quick nod. “Huddle up tight with the people you trust,” Mason advised. “Elect a family spokesperson or use your attorney to talk to the media. Stay away from the windows. I’m sorry, but it’s going to be ugly for a while. The media can be vultures. I’ve been close to a situation like this and you need to be prepared to cope. Avoid the news and unplug your landline.”

Sally paled. “Can we leave town? Can we go away for a while?”

Mason exchanged a glance with Ray. “Not yet. Let’s get some answers first. How about you show us Justin’s room?”

10

It smelled like a teenage boy’s room. Old tennis shoes, leftover food, and sweaty sheets. Even though Justin Yoder was twenty, he hadn’t abandoned any habits or interests from his teenage years. A big-screen TV that rivaled Mason’s hung on one wall. Two gaming systems, a cable console, a Blu-ray player, and three sets of headphones filled the shelves of a wooden unit below the TV. A rack held four guitars and a dusty keyboard was pushed against one wall. Ray took a series of photographs before they started. All they needed was to do a quick once-over. They’d leave the in-depth digging for the evidence team.

“How do you play more than one guitar at a time?” asked Ray. “This is my son’s dream bedroom. He’s been begging for a drum set. Like that will ever happen, but maybe a guitar with headphones is the way to go. But I gotta watch his hearing,” said Ray as he picked up one of the guitars with gloved hands. “I swear my nephews are going to be deaf by the time they graduate high school. My sister doesn’t get on them about the volume on their iPods. Wow. Look at those babies.” Ray gave a low whistle as he set the guitar back and stepped closer to two crossed swords hanging on the wall. “Shiny.” He ran a finger along a long blade. “Also completely dull. Just for show. And fantasies.”

“With enough strength behind them you could hurt someone,” Mason pointed out.

“You could say that about a broom handle, too,” said Ray. “Help me lift the mattress.” He stepped over a small pile of towels and shoved aside the balled-up sheet and blanket. The two of them bent and lifted the awkward pliable king-size mattress.

“Isn’t this one of those spendy foam things?” muttered Ray. “Even I don’t have one of those.”

Mason kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t there to judge and didn’t let Ray know that he and Ava had a “spendy” mattress because sleeping on springs hobbled his damned back every morning.

Nothing under the mattress. Ray produced a flashlight and they knelt to take a look under the bed. “Jesus Christ,” muttered Ray. “I need to go inspect under my son’s bed.”

They couldn’t see a thing under the bed; there was too much crap in the way. Shoe boxes, books, shopping bags. Mason reached out to move a sock and changed his mind. “Leave it for the evidence team.” He pointed at Ray. “You take the closet. I’ll go through the dresser.”

He squatted at the dresser and pulled out the bottom drawer. He squeezed and thoroughly shook each item of clothing and then tossed them in a pile on the floor. As he finished each drawer, he dumped the unfolded clothes back in and moved on to the next. Not that the clothes had been folded to start with.

Every home has a unique odor that develops over time from cooking smells, cleanser scents, pets, and everyday cleaning habits
. . .
or lack thereof. A person acclimates to the smell of his or her own home, but is often slapped in the face by new odors upon entering someone else’s house. The Yoders used a strong-smelling floral laundry detergent that made Mason’s throat itch, and it wafted in huge waves from the drawers. He’d caught a faint scent of it when he’d first met Sally Yoder and assumed it was a perfume. He wondered if Eric’s coworkers thought he smelled like a flower shop.

He breathed through his mouth.

The dresser yielded nothing of interest. There was some loose change in the drawer corners, and old baseball cards and a half dozen condoms in a tin in the top drawer. Mason studied the arrangement of mementos on top. Two baseball trophies from six years ago. A most-improved certificate from a theater camp in July. Three Iron Man figurines. One Incredible Hulk. More loose change and four name badges from Big John’s that read
JUSTIN
. Six empty Mountain Dew cans. Three CD cases from groups he’d never heard of—no surprise there. He opened the CD cases. They were all empty.
I thought kids didn’t use CDs anymore.
He glanced around for the silver discs and wondered if they might be in Justin’s car
 . . . 
or loaned to friends.

He moved to the desk. Justin had a desktop computer with a big monitor. Mason looked back at the shelving near the TV. Yep, he thought he’d seen a laptop over there. An iPad lay on the floor next to the head of the bed. He would have let his son know what he thought of expensive electronics left on the floor, begging to be stepped on. An empty docking station perched on one end of the desk and Mason wondered where the boy’s cell phone was. Justin hadn’t had ID or a cell phone on him at the mall.

Probably all in his car.

He didn’t touch the computer. He knew to leave it to the experts. Even simply unplugging it could mess up something. He moved over by Ray. “Find anything in the closet?”

Ray shook his head. “No weapons outside of those decorative swords on the wall. There’s a hammer and a screwdriver in a shoe box on the floor in here. But it also has a level and tape measure. A mini-toolbox, I guess. Here’s a score.” Ray held out a plastic baggie holding about a quarter cup of what looked like dried parsley. “I found it in the inside pocket of the very last suit jacket.”

Mason was more surprised by Justin’s having a suit than by the sight of the pot. “He has more than one suit?”

“Four, actually. Probably hasn’t worn them in a few years, judging by styles.”

Mason wondered what Ray would say about Mason’s ancient suits.

The two men stepped out of the closet and stood studying the room. They hadn’t messed it up too bad if you didn’t count the unfolded clothing in the drawers. “Did we miss anything?” Ray asked softly.

Mason stepped over to a poster of a dark-haired siren whom he recognized from one of the
Transformers
movies. He pulled out the lower thumbtacks and checked the wall behind the poster. “No escape routes.”

A chorus of new voices in the house told him that the evidence team had arrived. The men turned the bedroom over to the team, and Ray filled out an envelope to catalog the marijuana. Mason’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he looked at the screen. Zander Wells.

“Callahan.”

“Wells here. I’m at the center with Ava, and we’ve been watching video of Justin Yoder. Can you ask the parents if they know if he was spending a lot of time at the mall in the weeks before the shooting? Maybe there’re some items he purchased from the stores? If we could pinpoint a time frame of when he was previously here and what stores he’d shopped at that’d be a big help to hunting down some previous video.”

“Will do.” Mason turned his back to the other people in the bedroom. “How’s Ava doing?” he asked in a quieter tone.

“Good. You’ll be stunned when you watch the video. It was amazing to see her get that teen out of harm’s way.”

His stomach turned. “I don’t know if I care to watch that,” muttered Mason. He ended the call and asked the evidence team to keep an eye out for receipts from any stores at the Rivertown Mall, and then stepped out with Ray to talk to the parents again.

“Who are Justin’s closest friends?” Mason asked Sally. “You mentioned he’ll sleep over at someone’s house. Can you give me some names and numbers if you have them?”

She agreed and pulled out her cell phone, skimming through contacts and writing down some names. “Have you found his phone?” her husband asked. “We tried using the locater app we have on our phones to find it last night. It’s not connecting. It must be turned off.”

“We put in a request to your wireless provider,” Ray said. “I’ll let you know what we find out.”

“Did you find anything in his bedroom?” Sally asked, handing Mason a list of three names and numbers. The paper quivered in her hand.

“Nothing obvious,” said Mason in a kind voice. “Looks just like my son’s room when he’s home from college.”

She attempted a smile, and he saw she was on the verge of tears again.

“Do you know if Justin had done any shopping at the Rivertown Mall in the last week or so?” Mason asked. Both parents shook their heads.

“Did Justin know the shooter from the Eugene incident in June?” Ray asked.

Both parents froze. Eric started to speak, changed his mind, and shot a questioning look at Sally. The mother blinked at Ray.

“The shooting in June?” she repeated.

Mason held his breath.

Her head moved back and forth. “He never mentioned it. I followed it in the news, of course—I didn’t recognize the name—but I never talked about it with Justin. Perhaps an ‘Isn’t that terrible?’ type of comment or two with him.” She looked at Eric, who was nodding.

“Same here. My immediate reaction was to say no, but I didn’t know if he’d said anything to Sally about it.” He pressed his lips together, scowling. “Wasn’t he older than Justin?”

“Four years older,” supplied Ray.

“We don’t know anyone from that area,” said Sally. “If Justin does
. . .
did
. . .
I didn’t know about it.” Her voice wavered.

Mason raised a brow at Ray.
Anything else?
A subtle shake of the head answered him. “We’re going to head out. There will be at least one Washington County deputy in front of your house for the next few days to help with any crowd control—”

“Crowd control?” Eric grabbed at his wife’s arm to steady her. “You think that’s going to be necessary?”

“I hope not,” Mason lied. “But if you need them, you’ll be glad they’re there. They can keep media away, too.”

Mason took a breath and pushed out the words that’d been on his brain for the last half hour. “A word of advice from my experience in this sort of situation. Stay away from social media sites and reading any comments on news articles. This sort of thing brings out the trolls and haters posting bullshit, looking to stir up trouble. You won’t find any information there that you can’t get from us. You’ll only find heartbreak and anger.”

An awkward silence filled the room. He’d had to say it. They deserved to be warned.

“Call us if you think of anything else,” he added, placing his cowboy hat back on his head. He touched the brim and nodded good-bye to the couple. Ray followed him out the door.

Mason welcomed the slap of heat on his back. The Yoder house air conditioning had been running at full blast. He was relieved to see no media vans or trucks on the street.

“They’re holding back the name as long as they can,” said Ray, looking down the quiet street. “This neighborhood is going to be in shock in a few hours.”

Mason thought of Sally Yoder’s fragile mask and the cracks that’d opened during the interview.

Losing her son was just the beginning.

11

“They found his car!”

Sergeant Shaver rose out of his chair at the officer’s announcement and started to leave the video he’d been watching with Ava and Zander, but Zander stopped him. “I’d like to go.”

Ava opened her mouth to chime in. And then closed it.

Not my case.

That’s not going to stop me.

She knew how to make herself indispensable. Or invisible. Whichever was needed to get a look at Justin Yoder’s vehicle. Shaver glanced at Zander and nodded. Ava said nothing, but she caught Shaver’s gaze. She saw him take a quick look around the room and then give a tiny jerk of his head toward the door.

Yes!

The three of them rode in Shaver’s car to a quiet neighborhood roughly a half mile from the mall. “They got the history of the weapon, too,” said Shaver on the drive. “It was reported stolen two months ago.”

“Two months?” Ava repeated. “Has he been planning this that long?” Her mind raced. So far every movement that had been made by Justin Yoder spoke of extensive planning.

“Who knows how long he’s had the fantasy,” answered Shaver.

“Where was the weapon stolen from?” asked Zander.

“A private party. The owner has an extensive weapons collection. All aboveboard according to my investigator who talked with him. He’s not positive of the exact date when the weapon was stolen. He has a special locked room for them in his basement and returned from vacation to find his house broken into. Several items were missing, including three other weapons and some small electronics. According to my investigator, he could have lost a lot more, including several large flat-screen TVs. They theorized the crooks took what they could carry.”

“If they were on vacation, the crooks could have come back and cleaned them out,” commented Ava. “Where does he live?”

Shaver met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Less than a mile from the Yoders.”

“The other weapons haven’t turned up?” asked Zander.

“Not yet. The burglary investigation went cold. No prints, no witnesses, no leads.”

“Until now,” said Ava. She looked out the window. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Justin lived so close. “But that many missing items could indicate more than one thief. Has anyone talked to Justin’s friends?”

“Not yet. We’re putting together a short list based on his parents’ suggestions and asking his boss who Justin hung out with at work.”

So many threads to follow.

“Zander, the link to your international jewelry fence is looking weaker and weaker,” Ava said. “I don’t think they hire guys who work at Big John’s to do their dirty work.”

He turned in the front seat and gave her a wry grin. “Never say never. Until we have a motive for Justin I’m not ruling it out.”

Her mind continued to race through possibilities. “What about the shooter in the Eugene incident in June? He was about Justin’s age, right? Has that connection been explored?”

“That’s been assigned to Callahan,” answered Shaver. “He’ll follow up on that lead.”

Zander scowled. “That shooter was a bit older.” Ava watched his fingers tap a rhythm on his thigh. “Were the weapons stolen before or after the shooting in Eugene?”

“Can’t tell. The owners were gone for a week over the date of the June shooting. It could have happened right before or after, but the weapon in the Eugene shooting didn’t belong to him. The leads on that weapon have gone cold.”

“Dammit,” muttered Ava. “I’d like to know what Justin was doing during the time of that shooting.”

“We’ll get there,” Shaver promised.

The sergeant parked along the curb behind three Washington County sheriff’s vehicles. Ava could see a small red car surrounded by evidence tape.

“How’d they find it?” Ava asked.

A few observers who looked as if they belonged in the small retirement neighborhood watched closely, whispering to each other behind their hands. “Someone called it in yesterday,” said Shaver. “We didn’t make the connection until we had Yoder identified and a description of his vehicle. Actually a half dozen residents called it in. I guess a strange car stands out here.”

Ava wasn’t surprised. The Fall Oaks community was a “fifty-five and better” neighborhood. A coworker had shared stories about her grandparents’ move into the community. The couple had felt as if they were under a microscope. Neighbors commented on their visitors, complained about the new color they’d painted the front door (even after association approval), and discreetly moved landscaping rocks back to their original places after the couple had altered an arrangement
. . .
in their own yard.

They’d moved out after six months.

An unusual car parked overnight would have tongues wagging like crazy. She studied the small groups starting to gather. No media yet. Anyone with half a brain would put the large police presence around a strange car and the proximity to yesterday’s shooting together. “Have they released Justin Yoder’s name yet?” she asked Shaver in a quiet voice.

He grimaced. “Soon. There’s a news conference in a few hours. We’re trying to keep it quiet to give his parents a few hours to acclimate, but something tells me finding this car will get the word out early.” Shaver showed his identification to a cop and pulled on a pair of gloves, handing a second pair to Zander. “Touch as little as possible. I want a preliminary look before they tow it away.”

“It’s unlocked?” Zander asked.

“Yep,” said Shaver. “Lucky for us.”

Ava shoved her hands in her pockets and tried to look invisible. Shaver hadn’t offered her gloves—a clear message that she wasn’t officially there. She saw a few cops give her curious looks. She was wearing shorts, a T-shirt, and flip-flops in deference to the predicted heat for the day. Nothing about her said “official.”

The men each opened a front door, and Ava peeked over Zander’s shoulder. He borrowed a flashlight from one of the patrolmen and quickly went through the glove box and looked under the seat. On the driver’s side, Shaver did a similar quick search. They opened the rear doors and looked some more. Zander asked a patrolman to snap a picture of the mess in the backseat before he dug through it. Ava saw crumpled tissues, gas receipts, Mountain Dew cans, and a pair of tennis shoes.

Shaver popped the trunk and gestured for the same patrolman to take a few pictures. Inside was a duffel bag, a lacrosse stick, and a helmet and shoulder pads that she assumed went with the stick. The men rustled through a few empty paper bags and pushed aside two college textbooks. One for math and one for biology.

“Nothing obvious,” Zander said to Shaver, who agreed. “Odd thing is that it was unlocked. Someone could have stolen his shoes and lacrosse gear. Apparently he didn’t care.”

“Who leaves their car unlocked in a strange neighborhood these days?” asked Ava. She looked around and noticed two women with white hair filming the search with their cell phones. “Even if the neighborhood seems safe.”

Shaver slammed the trunk and said to Zander in a low voice, “You saw the empty prescription bottles?”

Zander nodded. “I counted six.”

“Where?” asked Ava. “In one of the bags in the trunk?”

“Didn’t want to give the neighbors anything to leak to the media,” Shaver said with an answering nod. “We’ll let them think nothing interesting came up in our search.” He gestured to the patrolmen. “It’s ready for the evidence team.”

An increase in observer whispers made Ava look over her shoulder. A satellite truck with a news station number on the side had stopped down the street.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Shaver.

Ava grabbed a cup of iced coffee from the big dispenser at the back of the command center. The discovery of Justin Yoder’s car had given everyone a bit of an energy boost, but now impatience set in as the car was being officially processed. It could be days before anything interesting came out of the forensic examination of the car. Lunchtime had come and gone hours ago. She’d had a few texts from Mason, who was with Justin Yoder’s parents, but she really wanted to hear his voice. Across the room she saw Zander crook his finger at her.

Bless him for keeping me in the loop.

“I’ve been assigned to take another statement from Steve Jordan,” he told her.

The name floated briefly in her brain and then dropped anchor. “The man who ran out of the mall bathroom with the child,” she said. The boy’s confused face was permanently imprinted on her brain, along with the father’s expression when he realized he had to leave her and Misty behind. “I’d like to thank him for offering to help us. I didn’t see him later that day.”

“He went home. His son was in full meltdown mode. He gave an officer his name, number, and a brief statement. This will be his first in-depth interview.” He indicated she should follow him. They walked down a short hallway to a small room. “Holding up okay?” he asked.

“Yes. The activity today has helped keep my mind off of things. If I was sitting at home, I’d be going nuts wondering what progress was being made.”

“You’re on vacation,” Zander pointed out. “Why don’t you go hiking or something?”

“Uh-huh.” She shot him a sideways look. “That’s exactly what I need to do. Give me something to do with my brain, please.”

He pushed open a door and let her pass in front of him.

Steve Jordan turned around. He’d been studying a child’s finger painting displayed on the wall. Apparently the room was used as a preschool art department of some sort. Steve looked from one of them to the other and his gaze homed in on Ava as his eyebrows rose. “
You
were there! Oh, thank God you’re okay. What happened to the other girl? The one that was bleeding?”

“Misty is fine. She had surgery and is recovering.”

Steve slumped down in a chair. “I told every police officer I saw about the two of you once I got Chase out of there. You don’t know how shitty I felt about leaving you guys behind. I’ve been watching the news, and I knew one woman died, but they said she was shot in front of the theater, so I knew it couldn’t be one of you. I prayed that you’d made it out okay.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “And I’m not a guy who prays.”

Ava was touched. “Thank you. I appreciate your concern.” He looked like a middle-class dad in his early thirties who spent his weekends mowing the lawn and taking his son to the zoo. Cargo shorts, concert T-shirt, wavy dark hair in need of a cut. He hadn’t shaved in a few days and had large bags under his eyes that Ava suspected were new for him.

The shooting had created hundreds, possibly thousands of victims.

Victims who hadn’t lost blood, but who had lost sleep and peace of mind. People who would forever look over their shoulders at loud noises in malls. Victims who would panic at the sounds of kids lighting fireworks in May. Employees who would study every shopper with an oblong package. People who would never lose the tension in their shoulders while in public places.

Then it would extend to their families and friends who had to cope with the anxiety and odd behaviors.

“How is your son? You said his name is Chase?” Ava asked.

He gave a weak smile. “He’s good. He hasn’t mentioned the man in the mask or the loud gunshots. But I haven’t taken him anywhere in public. I felt like we needed to stick closer to home for a while. I wonder if he’ll have flashbacks if we enter an unfamiliar bathroom.”

“Maybe you should let more time pass before testing his reactions.” Ava completely understood.

“I was supposed to grocery-shop this morning, and I spent an hour stressing about taking him out of the house.” Steve leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs and his hands clenched together. “I finally decided to take him to my mother’s. She lives forty-five minutes away, but the peace of mind was worth it, knowing he was with her in a place that’s as familiar as his own home. She lives in a rural area.” He gave a harsh laugh. “And then I couldn’t relax in the grocery store. I looked around every sixty seconds and forgot half the things on my list.”

Victims.

“You’re married, Mr. Jordan?” Zander asked.

“My wife works. I stay home with our son. Best fucking job I’ve ever had.” He paused. “Until yesterday.”

Zander and Ava took seats at the table across from the father. Steve studied her and then looked at Zander and then back at her again. “You’re with the police.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m a special agent with the FBI,” Ava said. “I was simply passing through the mall that morning, just like you.” She gestured at Zander. “I asked Special Agent Wells to let me thank you for your offer of help; it meant a lot to both of us. I could tell it wasn’t easy for you, but your son needed you, and there was nothing you could have done.”

His shoulders deflated. “I could have set him down and helped you with the other woman. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought back and wanted to do the right thing.”

“That would have been unfair. Chase needed you to get him out. Misty and I would have slowed you down considerably. That wouldn’t have been worth the risk.”

Steve gave a shuddering sigh and turned his gaze away. “If something had happened to one of you, I don’t know how I would have handled it.”