The Corpse Wore Cashmere (22 page)

“Kerry was able to lift some blood and hair fibers before Randy’s boat exploded. I’m pretty sure the evidence will put Lorraine on Randy’s boat. That and my eye witness from the Rusty Nail should be enough to close the case.”

Dylan leaned forward in his chair. “When Randy’s boat exploded, we all could have been killed or seriously hurt. The worst thing that happened was that it caused my dad to suffer a heart attack.”

Chief Smith rose from his chair, his face creased in worry. “How is Vernon?”

“He was okay when we left. The medics got there in a hurry, and the hospital was only a few minutes away. The doctor expects him to make a full recovery. He should be released from the hospital in a day or two.”

“Thank goodness. You need to be with him.”

“Thanks, Chief. That was my plan. I’m packed and ready to go. I’ll be back as soon as he’s able to do for himself.”

“From the stack of folders I was just handed, it looks like I’ll have enough to keep me busy until you get back, Dylan. It’s going to take me a while to go through them and arrange interviews,” Wesley said.

“If you need a temporary partner, let me know,” Chief Smith said.

“Nah, I think I can handle it for a while. Right now, I need to contact Elton Jenkins and let him know we won’t be needing him as a witness, then I want to pay Myrtle a visit, let her know it’s over.”

As Dylan and Wesley stood to leave, Dylan’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen, obviously not liking what he saw. “It’s the hospital,” he explained before answering. “This is Dylan. Is something wrong?” His face paled, and he plopped down in his chair. “I’ll be right there.” He swallowed hard and looked up at Wesley. “He’s gone. My dad’s dead.”

Tears spilled from Dylan’s eyes as he bit down on his lower lip. Even then he couldn’t keep his chin from quivering. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

Wesley was at a loss for words.

Dylan squeezed the arms of the chair and looked up with red-rimmed eyes. “How do you go from being fine to dead? Something’s not right.” He stared hard at Wesley. “I should never have left him.”

“Who was that? What’d they say?” the chief asked.

Dylan sniffed and swiped his face with his hands. “That was the doctor. He said Deputy Lightfoot was visiting with Dad and shouted for help. The doctor said Dad had a massive heart attack. They worked on him, but couldn’t revive him.”

“I can’t believe it, either,” Wesley said. “He was doing so well.”

Dylan pounded the arm of the chair with his fist. “You can bet I’m going to look into it.”

The chief walked around his desk and put his hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, son. Take as much time as you need and call us when you’ve made arrangements.”

Wesley eyes welled with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

Dylan rose and nodded at the two men. Taking a deep breath, he regained some of his composure. “I just can’t imagine life without him. He was all I had.”

As the chief returned to his chair, Wesley put his arm around Dylan’s shoulders. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“Thanks, but I need to handle this.”

Dylan left the station without saying a word to the men in the office, but from his demeanor, the guys had to know something was wrong. The usually spunky detective crossed the room with shoulders slumped and his head down.

Wesley followed him into the parking lot. “I’m still at a loss for words. Sorry isn’t enough. I know how I hurt when my dad died.”

“I should have listened to Susan. If I had stayed with Dad, he might still be alive.”

“Don’t start blaming yourself. Even if you had been there, you might not have been able to prevent his death. Maybe it was the result of natural causes. You can request an autopsy, but even then, you might not find what you’re looking for.”

Dylan wiped his eyes. “It doesn’t seem real. I can’t imagine him not being here.”

“I wish I could do something to ease your pain, but I can’t. And nothing I can say will make it better.” Wesley grabbed his partner and gave him a bear hug. “Anything, you hear me? Don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll be there for you.”

Dylan cleared his throat. “I’d better get on the road.”

Wesley watched until Dylan’s car disappeared from sight, and then he walked back to his desk. All eyes turned toward him. “Dylan just lost his dad to a heart attack. He’s going to let us know about the arrangements.” Wesley glanced at the detective who had covered for him. “Looks like I’ll need you to cover for me again during the funeral.”

Sitting at his desk, Wesley stared at the stack of new folders, but his mind was on Dylan. One thing was certain: none of the cases could be as gruesome as Lorraine’s, or he’d have heard about it before now. He opened the first folder and scanned the file. It involved a domestic dispute that had turned deadly. The wife had stabbed her husband numerous times, and her teenage children had witnessed the murder.

The second case involved a young man found shot in his car in an area known for drug trafficking. Wesley reread the reports numerous times but found it impossible to concentrate on the crimes. Dylan and Chief Powell dominated his thoughts. He really hoped Chief Powell’s death didn’t involve foul play, and if it did, he wondered what Dylan would do about it.

Wesley closed the files. He couldn’t concentrate on new material. It was best to wrap up Lorraine’s case before plunging into another. He had learned that starting with a clean slate was the best way to proceed. He picked up the phone and called Mr. Jenkins, thanked him for his cooperation, and explained why his testimony wouldn’t be needed. Tucking the two new files under his arm, he headed for his unmarked unit. Maybe he would give them another look later in the evening. Visiting Myrtle wouldn’t be a problem, but breaking the news to Susan about Dylan’s dad wasn’t going to be easy.

On his way out of the station, a long-time deputy who had just finished a night shift met him at the door. “Can I have a word with you?”

They walked back to Wesley’s desk.

He handed Wesley a clear plastic bag that contained a bracelet. “A hunter found this in the woods where he hunts and turned it over to me last night. It’s gold. However long it’s been out there, the elements haven’t had any effect on it. When I saw the initials, I immediately thought about you. Maybe it’s tied to your cold case, the one about the missing girl. After all this time, I doubt the lab will find any trace evidence or fingerprints, except for the hunter who handled it, but you never know.”

Wesley wondered if the officer could hear his heart thumping. He couldn’t believe it. Turning the bracelet toward the light, he read the initials, “E.N.” After all this time, he finally had another piece to the puzzle. “What’s the hunter’s name and number? I’d like to see exactly where he found the bracelet.”

The deputy pulled a small pad from his pocket and tore off a page. “Here you go. Hope it helps.”

Wesley put the new case files back on the desk and pulled out another folder from his bottom drawer. The file was labeled Edith Nelson, Missing Person. The worn jacket showed coffee stains and numerous smudges of pencil mark from hours of handling the file. Wesley opened the folder and removed a colored photo of the subject, her senior picture. Light brown hair curled softly about her face, and big brown eyes gave her the look of innocence. Her upturned nose had a smattering of freckles and thin lips curled into a smile. He read again for the hundredth time her physical stats—five foot five and a hundred and ten pounds.

Edith was the only child of Myrna and Ronald Nelson. He had come to know the Nelsons personally. Looking back over the case, it seemed only yesterday he had interviewed the distraught parents—Myrna with her red, swollen eyes and Ronald, his head buried in his hands. Wesley had promised Myrna that he would find her daughter. Dead or alive, that was one promise he intended to keep. He made a color copy of the photo and returned the original to the file.

Flipping through the pages, he found a list of the missing girl’s clothing, jewelry, and other items she’d had in her possession. The hunter’s find confirmed one item—a gold bracelet with the initials E.N. Had Edith lost the bracelet while struggling to escape or had she managed to drop it on purpose? Were there other clues out there? He made a note of Edith’s other jewelry: a pair of tiny maple leaf earrings and a dainty necklace with a Coptic cross, all made of gold.

He annotated the file to reflect the recovery of the bracelet then took the paper the deputy had given him containing the name and phone numbers of the hunter and copied them into his own note pad. Once again, he tucked the new case files under his arm and slipped the photo of Edith and the bag containing the bracelet into his pocket. Myrtle would have to wait awhile longer. He drove across town to the lab, where he filled out the proper paperwork. Chances were slim the lab would find anything, but he had to follow procedure. “How long before you get any results?” he asked the technician.

“We’re swamped. Best I can do is two days for fingerprints or blood evidence. You’re looking at least six weeks for DNA results should I find anything.”

Wesley groaned. “Well, can you at least shoot me a picture of the bracelet?”

“That I can do.”

A few minutes later, the technician handed him a digital photograph of the bracelet, clearly showing the initials.

“Thanks. Call me when you’ve finished your preliminary exam.”

Back in his unit, he sat staring at Edith’s photo, and his mind raced back to the night of the abduction. When her purse was found in a roadside ditch with her blood on it, they’d expected to find a body, but despite an extensive search and numerous interviews, the investigators found nothing, and the case went cold. He’d asked permission to look into the case. Those in charge of the investigation had welcomed his input. Ever since then, he had never stopped looking for any clues.

He slipped the photo into his pocket and pulled out his notepad. Time to call the hunter. A man answered on the first ring. “Mr. Daniels, I’m Detective Wesley Grissom.”

“I’ve been expecting your call.”

“I’d like to talk with you about the bracelet, especially where you found it.”

“Sure, but I just got back into the woods and settled into one of my favorite spots. Can you give me a couple of hours?”

“How about we meet at the Burger Shack, the one about three miles past the turnoff to the marina. Say about noon?”

“That’ll work. I’ll meet you then.”

Wesley checked his watch. He should still have time to visit with the Nelsons and stop by Myrtle’s before telling Susan about Chief Powell.

Wesley eased his Crown Victoria to a stop in front of the Nelsons’ house on Sycamore Drive. Like most of the houses in this middle-class neighborhood, the Nelsons’ home was built sometime in the sixties. It was a one-story structure with a front porch and a side carport. Azalea bushes lined the front behind the sidewalk, and camellia bushes were in flower beds next to the house. Following a few warm days, dollar weed and clover had sprouted its ugly head. Overall the lawn was neat and edged, reflecting the pride the owners took in their property.

A chocolate Lab lay stretched out on the front porch. The dog raised his head and wagged his tail but didn’t bother to get up and greet him. Wesley rang the doorbell and waited.

“I’ll get it, Momma,” a male voice called from inside the house. Ronald Nelson opened the door. He stared at Wesley for a while before he spoke. “You’re not coming to bring me more bad news, are you?”

“No, sir, may I come in?”

Edith’s father stepped aside.

“Who is it, honey?” Myrna Nelson asked as she walked into the living room. Eyeing Wesley, she stopped and pressed her hand to her chest.

“It’s okay, dear, Mr. Grissom said he didn’t come to bring bad news.” Ronald directed his attention to Wesley. “So why are you here?”

“Let’s sit in the living room,” Myrna said.

Wesley took a seat in an overstuffed chair across from the Nelsons, who sat together on the sofa.

“Like you, there isn’t a day goes by that I don’t think about your daughter. I made a promise to you, Mrs. Nelson, that I wouldn’t give up on this case, and I won’t. As long as I have a breath in me, I’ll work to solve her disappearance.” He pulled the photograph of the bracelet from his pocket. “Can you identify this?”

Myrna took the picture. She traced the bracelet with her finger, and her eyes filled with tears. “It’s Edith’s. We gave it to her on her sixteenth birthday.”

“Yes, that’s hers, all right,” Ronald said. “Where did you find it?”

Wesley told them about the hunter. “We never searched that particular area, as it was too far away from the site of the abduction, but I’m going to do just that. I’m not giving up on her, and you shouldn’t, either. There’s always the chance she’s still alive and held captive. I’m determined to keep thinking that until evidence proves otherwise.”

“I want to go with you,” Ronald said.

“I understand how you feel, but it’s best you leave that to me. I’ll get someone with fresh eyes to assist me, and we’ll make a thorough search. Whether we find anything or not, I’ll let you know.” Wesley stood up to leave.

“Thank you,” Myrna said.

Wesley nodded and took his leave. The dog raised his head to bid him farewell, but this time didn’t even bother to wag his tail.

After leaving the Nelson’s, Wesley drove to the Burger Shack. He was early, so he waited outside for the hunter to arrive. He was easy to recognize. The man arrived in a four-by-four Dodge truck with an ATV in the bed. Both the four-wheeler and the truck looked as if they had been driven through an avalanche of mud.

The hunter climbed out of the cab, and Wesley’s first impression was that he’d hate to meet up with this guy in a dark alley. The man stood about six foot four and packed a solid two hundred and thirty-five pounds. With a thick head of curly red hair and a bushy beard, he reminded Wesley of a mountain man. The hunter’s blue plaid shirt was dirty and torn, and his boots were caked with what the locals called gumbo mud. But his warm smile melted away the bad boy image.

“You must be Detective Grissom,” he said as he strode across the parking lot and reached out his hand. “I’m Kevin Daniels. Mind if we don’t go in? I’m not exactly dressed.” He gave a hearty laugh.