Dead Wrong (4 page)

Her whisper-soft voice cut into him and once again, he was back
there,
with Lori the day she’d been shot, stuck in the scene that had replayed in his mind too many times to count. The bright sunshine. The deafening sound of a shotgun as the man bolted out of his house and opened fire. The sticky blood everywhere at once. A bullet slicing into his neck, spinning him to the ground where he was powerless to help Lori—not only his partner but the woman he’d just asked to marry him.

“You know,” Kat added, oblivious to his turmoil. “Guilty, as if you could’ve prevented it from happening?”

“It’s not as if we have any control over what happens.” He stopped, not trusting himself to say anything until he took a few deep breaths. “No matter what I do if God allows people I care about to be hurt, I can’t stop it.” His voice was heavy with sadness, and he saw the same thing on Kat’s face. “I wish I could go back to the days when I believed God heard my prayers.”

She didn’t respond immediately, but sat there as if gathering her thoughts. “It may be hard to see at times, Mitch, but God does listen, and He has a good plan for your life.”

He glanced at her again. “After all you’ve been through and seen on the job, you honestly believe that?”

“I may not like what He allows to happen, but I know He’s there.”

“It would be nice to feel that way. I just can’t,” he said with such finality that she looked away, and he was left with his thoughts again.

Thoughts of his sister, Angie. Every day, he expected to arrive at a homicide scene only to discover she was the victim. He tried not to think about it. Tried, but failed every time he caught a case. Every time he had to inform a victim’s family that their loved one would not be coming home. Every time he worked his leads and brought a killer to justice.

And even times like now, as he parked in front of the Oregon State Police office in St. Helens, he knew when he talked to the officer about Bodig’s death, a part of him could easily slip into questions about why God took Nathan Bodig. Questions that brought no answers.

He turned off the engine and as Kat started to get out, his mind moved to the upcoming meeting. “I’d appreciate it if you’d remember you’re just an observer here. Especially since Franklin’s already proved he plays by the rules.”

“I’ll try,” she said and slipped out of the car.

He followed her into the crisp morning air and paused by the office door to enjoy a rare sun break. As usual for February in Oregon, by the time they came back outside the sun would most likely have retreated behind gray clouds.

He opened the door for Kat and followed her inside where a young clerk escorted them through a bullpen area to a desk in the back. A stout, uniformed male came to his feet, his eyes roving over Kat, then Mitch, taking in details an officer of the law was trained to see.

“Senior Trooper Ed Franklin.” He thrust out a hand.

Mitch offered his business card while completing introductions.

“You didn’t mention Ms. Justice would be accompanying you.” His tone hinted at opposition.

Mitch eyed up the officer with a stare he’d perfected in suspect interrogations. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” he said, though Mitch heard the reluctance in the single word. He sat and gestured toward chairs by his cluttered desk. “So you came to talk about the Bodig fatality.”

Mitch waited for Kat to sit then took the other chair. “I’m interested in hearing how you determined this crash was an accident.”

“First off, a crash like Bodig’s isn’t unusual for that stretch of highway.” Franklin leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his neck. He seemed relaxed but Mitch could see he remained alert. “We’ve covered several fatal accidents in that location. Second, it was a rainy night with slick roads.”

“So you think visibility might’ve been a factor in the crash?” Mitch clarified.

“Could be.” He snapped forward and pulled out a map, pointing to a section of Highway 30. “This is where it happened. Deep ravines line both sides of the road here. It wouldn’t take much of a misstep to turn fatal.”

“Any possibility he was forced off the road?”

“There were no skid marks at the scene. So that would be highly unlikely. But without an eye witness, I can’t be one hundred percent positive.”

“No skid marks?” Kat asked, clearly surprised.

“None.”

Interesting. A lack of skid marks would mean Nathan didn’t apply his brakes to keep from going off the road. But that wasn’t conclusive. His brakes could’ve been cut, or Bodig could have been impaired. Maybe by alcohol or drugs or he fell asleep. “What about Bodig? Did you check him out?”

“We ran down the usual profile. Blood alcohol, tox screen, D.M.V. record. All clean. He made the trip every weekend to visit his fiancée in Astoria. From what she and his sister both said, he’d been burning the candle at both ends. My best guess is that he fell asleep at the wheel.”

“And no unusual findings on the vehicle?”

“Unusual? No. But it was seriously charred.” He shook his head. “Don’t know how long it burned before the fire department arrived on scene. A trucker spotted the wreck and called it in.”

“Do you know what happened to the vehicle after it was released?” Mitch asked, hoping they could get a look at it.

Franklin opened a drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper. He circled something in the middle of the page and slid it across the desk. “This is the tow company we recommend to next of kin. Henry down there is good about helping them dispose of vehicles. You can check with them.”

“Thanks,” Mitch said. “One more thing. Bodig’s cell phone. It was never recovered.”

“His sister said that was odd so we spent extra time looking for it.” He reclined again. “With all the windows shattered in the car, his phone could’ve been ejected and landed anywhere. The brush is too thick to search every inch.”

“But it definitely wasn’t in the car,” Kat added.

He nodded and looked at Mitch. “You mind telling me what this’s all about?”

“We think this may not have been an accident.”

“Suppose you tell me what you’re basing that on.” This time he didn’t mask his defensive tone.

“Relax. It has nothing to do with your investigation. His sister was murdered after she started looking into the accident.”

“Murdered.” Franklin’s feet came to the floor with a loud thud. “Why didn’t you tell me that right up front?”

“I needed to know your mind-set at the time of the investigation. Telling you could’ve changed your perception of things.”

“You think?” He kept shaking his head. “Now I’m wondering if I missed something. How’d the sister die?”

“Injected with propofol.”

“If Bodig had taken propofol, he couldn’t have been driving,” Franklin mumbled to himself then a light-bulb-gone-off look brightened his face. “This’s why you want to see the car. You think it was tampered with.”

“It’s possible,” Mitch said, not wanting to get into details of their investigation with Franklin. “We’d appreciate a copy of the accident report as soon as possible.”

“I’ll run one off right now.” Franklin got up. “Be right back.”

When he was out of hearing distance, Mitch faced Kat. “Not what you expected to hear?”

“No, but the lack of skid marks aren’t conclusive. He still could’ve been murdered.” Her chin jutted out in a cute defiant angle.

“Agreed. If our killer has access to propofol, he could get any number of drugs that didn’t show up on the basic tox screen Franklin had run. If Bodig had drugs on board it would’ve seriously hindered his ability to drive.” He smiled to try to ease the concern wedged on her face. “But we’ll need solid evidence before we can request additional tests.”

“Question is where are we going to find that evidence?”

“You up for a road trip?”

“Where to?”

“The accident scene.” He felt the excitement of the hunt raising his pulse and heard it settling in his voice.

“Absolutely,” she agreed. “Though after two months it seems unlikely there’d be anything for us to find.”

“It’s still a good idea to get a visual of how things went down. After that we’ll take a look at Bodig’s vehicle.” He saw Franklin returning, so ended their conversation.

“Here you go.” Franklin handed over the file.

“Thanks.” Mitch stood. “Mind if we take your map?”

“Not at all.” Franklin picked it up and gave it to him.

“You’ve got my card. Call me if you think of anything that might help.”

Franklin gave a clipped nod. “Will do.”

Mitch gestured for Kat to precede him, and they headed for the exit.

“By the way, I meant to say thanks in there,” he said, slipping ahead and holding the door for her.

“For what?”

“For letting me do most of the talking.”

“Don’t get used to it.” She grinned up at him, revealing small dimples in both cheeks.

He ignored the way his heart dipped again and followed her outside.

The sun had given way to rain. More than a drizzle, less than a steady rain. Kat flipped up her hood. Mitch’s P.P.B. windbreaker didn’t have one, so he rushed ahead and unlocked the doors.

In the car, he handed over the paper from Franklin. “Can you call the garage to see if the wreck is still there or if they got rid of it for salvage?”

“Sure.”

He headed out of town, and she dug out her phone. On Highway 30, he paid close attention to the two-lane road. With slick rain, the road could be as dangerous as Franklin had indicated. Kat chatted with the tow company, and he could tell by her questions that they no longer had Bodig’s vehicle.

“The car’s at a salvage yard.” She dialed another number. “Let’s pray it hasn’t been crushed for scrap yet.”

She was right. They should pray. But then he should pray all the time. He just couldn’t seem to manage it. He’d held on to his faith when his dad died just after Mitch turned fifteen, and when Angie turned to drugs. He’d even kept praying after his mom’s death. But when Lori was gunned down and everyone he’d ever loved was taken from him, he knew God no longer cared for him or those he loved. So he’d shut himself off from other people and from God.

But if what Kat said earlier was true, maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe God was still there. And maybe He’d brought Kat into his life again to show him that.

He glanced at her as she concentrated while a rumbling male voice barked at her over the phone. The little bit of a woman holding her own with the surly man brought a smile to his lips.

“How can you not know if the vehicle is there?” Frustration bit into her tone and she took several deep breaths. What followed was kinder, softer. As if she remembered she could get more cooperation using honey. And she could. At least with him. With her sweet tone feeling like a soft smile, resisting her was going to be harder than he first thought.

Seriously, Elliot. You’re acting like an adolescent boy.

He rolled his eyes at his behavior and caught sight in the rearview mirror of a white van fast approaching. He took a better look. Spotted a logo on the hood. Blinked and looked again. The same van as last night.

Nancy’s killer was following them.

Mitch didn’t want to panic Kat so he didn’t say anything but kept an eye on the van. As they reached a narrow turn, the vehicle sped up and the driver gunned the engine.

They were approaching Bodig’s accident site. If their theory was right, the killer had drugged Bodig and forced him off the road. Maybe the driver had the same plans for the two of them, minus the drugs.

“You need to get off the phone,” Mitch said with urgency.

She cupped her hand over it. “I’ll just be another minute.”

He looked up again. The van was now only a few car lengths behind. “A minute’s too long.”

“What’s going on?”

He jerked his head toward the rearview mirror. “You need to brace yourself. It looks like Nancy’s killer is about to run us off the road.”

FOUR

K
at swiveled to look out the back window. A full-size white van zoomed closer. His powerful engine roared in her ears as they climbed higher into the misty rain. She craned her neck to get a clear look of the driver, but the rain obscured her view. Still, she heard him coming closer.

Was he really planning to run them off the road? To kill them?

Father, please, no! Don’t let this happen.

Mitch careened the car around a curve, tires slipping on the wet pavement, spitting rain in all directions. They skidded wildly, tossing them into the path of a massive logging truck.

The driver laid on his air horn, and Kat’s heart rate shot higher. Mitch fought with the wheel, and she felt him ease off the gas. With a jerk, they came out of the skid and the truck roared past them, too close for comfort. Mitch blew out a breath and slowed even more while she took a quick look behind.

The van was still there. Closer now.

She glanced back at Mitch. His eyes were focused on the road, his jaw firmed.

“You have a plan or are we just going to try to outrun him?” She was surprised at how calm she sounded when her heart was thumping an erratic beat in her chest.

“His vehicle’s bigger, and he could easily send us off the road.” He switched on the wipers, the intermittent swish across the windshield ending with a shudder on dry glass. “It’s better to slow and come to a stop near a guardrail.”

She took a quick look out the side window. Deep ravines, thick brush and huge pines waited to claim their car and potentially their lives. His plan seemed like the best option. Still they needed help.

“I’ll call for backup.” She dialed 911 and relayed their situation, trying to keep her voice calm and measured as Mitch continued to slow the vehicle.

The van was close enough that she heard the rhythmic
thump, thump, thump
of his wipers. Only moments to impact now. Kat grabbed the seat and braced herself.

The van slammed into their car. Metal shrieked against metal as their tires dropped onto the shoulder. Kat jolted forward and planted a hand on the dashboard. Mitch jerked the wheel and the car lurched back onto the road, gravel spraying from all sides.

“Plan B?” she asked, nearly breathless.

“This is still our best option.” He continued to slow, the speedometer reading forty-five. Forty. Thirty-five. Thirty.

The van was backing off, but there was no time to let down her guard. He could simply be falling back to gain enough speed to ram them again.

“I’ll pull over up ahead. We can take cover behind the guardrail.” Mitch slowed even more. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“When I come to a stop, get out of here. Don’t waste any time. Leave your door open and I’ll be right behind you.”

The car jerked to a stop, and she didn’t wait for him to shift into Park but bolted out. The cold metal of the guardrail bit into her hands as she catapulted over. Her feet slid on the wet grass and she hit the ground on her hip, the pungent scent of moist earth rising up to greet her. She came to her knees and drew her weapon to cover Mitch as he lunged out of the vehicle. He tumbled to a stop beside her and gracefully moved into a crouch.

The van slowed, now crawling closer. The black windshield reflected gray clouds obstructing her view of the driver. She watched and waited. Her breath coming in short little pulses of vapor disappearing into the cooler air.

She glanced at Mitch. Rain plastered thick locks of hair onto his forehead and molded his jacket to his large shoulders. The intensity in his eyes and face reassuring as he held his weapon in steady hands. If a killer was going to hunt her down, Mitch was a formidable ally.

The van slowed to a crawl and then stopped. The driver revved the engine, thick white exhaust rising up and mixing with the mist as the vehicle vibrated under the restraint of the brakes.

“What do you think he’s doing?” she asked, a shiver making its way down her body.

“Not a clue.” Mitch looked around. “But be ready to move if he heads for us.”

A sudden roar of the van’s engine split the silence and tires squealed into motion. Slipping, sliding, the vehicle picked up speed, racing their way. Kat shifted, moving to her feet. The van roared up the road, tires hissing over the wet pavement as the odor of burning rubber filled the air.

“Doesn’t look like he’s coming for us,” Mitch said, his eyes never moving from the van. “Try to get that plate if he passes by.”

Kat’s heart thundered in her chest, but she stayed put and kept her focus on the vehicle. Twenty feet away. Picking up speed. Now fifteen. She saw the shadow of the driver as he seemed to be changing positions.

What was he doing?

His arm came up.

“Gun,” Mitch shouted as he went airborne and in the next moment they were both on the ground, his body covering hers.

A shot ricocheted through the trees. Then another one. The car window exploded in fragments pelting down on them. She was vaguely aware of soggy leaves and pine needles pressed into her face as Mitch’s heavy weight flattened her into the ground. A third shot pinged off the guardrail and slammed in the dirt with a thump.

The van sideswiped their car, sliding Mitch’s smaller vehicle into the rail. Metal ground against metal as the guardrail crumbled into a tangled mess and groaned toward them. Mitch shifted, circling his arms around her and rolling them out of the way. Tires continued to slide, coming to a stop inches from her eyes.

More shots. Closer now.
Pop. Pop. Pop
.

Mitch tightened his hold, and she felt his heart thumping against her back. A sure steady rhythm, but fast. She didn’t move. Couldn’t move. She lay there waiting for the shooter to get out and train his gun on them. But the mighty engine revved and climbed the hill, the sound disappearing like a shadow in the mist.

“Are you hit?” Mitch asked, his breath stirring her hair.

“No.” She shuddered out a breath and took in another. “You?”

“I’m good.” He lifted his head. “Stay down.” He pulled his arms free and swiftly came to his knees.

Cold air assaulted her, and she felt vulnerable. She wanted to pull him back down, but rolled to the side instead. He’d moved to the end of the twisted guardrail and poked his head up. “He’s gone.”

Her breath hitched, and she felt as if she might lose it. She had to get a grip. Let Mitch know that she was stronger than this timid woman he’d seen since yesterday. She concentrated on breathing.

They were alive. Safe. Both of them.

Thank You, God.

“You okay, Kat?”

She gave a clipped nod. “God was watching out for us.”

“If you say so.”

“Hey,” she said. “You’re not being fair. If you blame God when bad things happen then you’re admitting He’s in charge. And that means He should get the credit for good things, too.”

He arched a brow and studied her for a few moments. “Not sure nearly losing our lives is a good thing, but point taken.” He climbed over the guardrail and checked out the car. “It’s not drivable so we can’t pursue him. I’ll radio in an update on his location.”

He holstered his weapon and went to the driver’s side. The door wrenched open with a nerve-racking groan disturbing the quiet. Kat pulled herself up using the mangled guardrail. This could’ve been her. Him. Both of them. Twisted beyond repair.

She shuddered again and stretched, easing out kinks while checking for injuries. She felt blood congealed next to her ear. She remembered hitting a stick when Mitch tackled her. The injury didn’t feel serious, but she’d have a bunch of bruises. At least she hadn’t been shot. Perhaps thanks to Mitch. She went to stand beside his door to listen in on his conversation.

He looked up at her. “You sure you’re okay?”

She nodded but didn’t say anything. Her thoughts were too jumbled to speak. All that mattered was that they were safe for now. At least until the killer tried to end her life again.

* * *

Mitch should be paying attention to Trooper Franklin’s comments about the paint transferred from the van to his department-issued car, but his eyes kept drifting to Kat. She hadn’t said a word in quite a while, and he was starting to worry about her.

He’d asked if she wanted to talk, but she’d clammed up and sat on the end of the guardrail that was still intact, her arms around her waist as she waited for the troopers to finish their report. Her eyes were unreadable, but there was no doubt she was really shaken up. And she should be. Two attempts on her life in as many days would unsettle the best cop.

He was still flustered, too. They’d barely made it out alive. His car could’ve plunged into a ravine with them in it, either one of them could’ve taken a bullet or been crushed by the sliding vehicle.

“You with me, Elliot?” Franklin asked, his eyes appraising.

Mitch nodded. “You’ll have the car towed to the state police crime lab so they can process the paint transferred from the van.”

“Right. We should be able to get the manufacturer, make and the year manufactured from the transfer. That combined with the three digits you caught of the plate the other day and maybe you’ll find your suspect.”

“You deal with the state lab often?”

“Enough, why?”

“Just wondered about the time frame for results.”

“Seventy-two hours at the soonest. Probably longer.”

Three days. Three days during which Mitch needed to make sure he kept Kat out of the killer’s sights. She didn’t know it yet, but she wasn’t going home tonight. No matter how strong-willed and independent she was, he would insist she spend the night with one of her siblings or at his house. He’d prefer she chose the siblings so that wounded expression didn’t make him do something dumb like hold her and promise everything would be okay.

That was an empty promise if he ever made one. Nothing was ever all right. Nothing. He ought to know that by now.

“I need to wait until someone from the lab gets here,” Franklin continued. “But Trooper Smith is ready to leave if you want a ride to your rental car.”

“Thanks. I’ll get Ms. Justice.” It felt odd calling her anything other than Kat, but he didn’t want to draw attention to their personal connection.

He skirted around his damaged car and swiped his hair off his forehead. A steady rain hissed down on them and, although the troopers gave them both slickers, a gusting wind had blown his hood off so many times that he finally gave up and left it down.

As he approached, Kat looked up, revealing wet curls clinging to her neck. They looked cold against her creamy skin. He was temped to peel them free so he shoved his hands in his pockets instead. “We can catch a ride with the trooper.”

She eased off the guardrail and groaned. “You as sore as I am?”

“No, but I wasn’t assaulted last night.” He slipped a hand on the slick plastic of the poncho covering her arm and directed her across the road. She didn’t shake off his hand and that told him a great deal about her mood. He settled her in the front seat and climbed in the back.

The trooper tried to make conversation with her, but she gave him one-word answers, and he finally stopped trying. As a former law enforcement officer, she was probably still running through the incident, trying to see if they could’ve handled it better. He was doing the same thing. He was confident they’d made the best of a bad situation, but he was uneasy about the gun. When he’d bailed from the car, he’d thought the vehicle was their only exposure and hadn’t expected the suspect to pull a weapon and open fire.

The gun brought things to a whole new level. One they’d have to face head-on until this guy was caught. Mitch and Tommy were up to the task of protecting Kat, but it wouldn’t hurt to have help. When they got a moment alone, even though she was against involving her family in this, he’d suggest they do just that.

When the trooper pulled up to a service station with a car rental sign out front, Mitch leaned forward. “You mind if Ms. Justice waits here while I get the keys?”

“No problem,” Smith answered.

“I’ll be right back.” Mitch hopped out and filled out the paperwork for a small sedan, got directions to the salvage yard then went out the side door into rain that seemed to be letting up.

In the car, he shrugged out of his poncho and cranked up the heat so by the time he pulled up beside the trooper, warm air was flowing at his feet.

Kat climbed in and struggled to get out of her slicker, the vinyl squeaking in protest.

“Want help with that?” he asked.

“I’m not fragile, you know.” She sounded mad about something, but he couldn’t see her face under the poncho to make sure. She ripped the poncho free and eyed him up for long moments. A hint of a spark had returned to her eyes, and he could see she was getting her spunk back.

He couldn’t help but grin at her tenacious spirit, but she didn’t return his smile. Instead, her gaze turned challenging—almost defiant. Much the way she’d looked at him when he’d said he didn’t date coworkers. But then she’d let him have it and now she clamped down on her lips.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She seemed sincere, but he knew her well enough to know she had something on her mind, and she didn’t plan to share it with him. At least not yet. He couldn’t drag it out of her. She’d tell him when she was ready.

“Are you still up for the salvage yard before we meet Tommy for an update?” he asked, moving on.

“Of course.”

“The guy inside said the place is a few miles down the road.” He backed the car out and eased onto the main thoroughfare where traffic was light. He felt her eyes remain on him, but resisted the urge to look at her.

She fidgeted and shifted in the seat several times before finally turning to him. “You saved my neck back there, Mitch. Thank you.” She might’ve said thank you, but she sounded disgruntled over having to say it.

He glanced at her. “Not that I need gratitude, but that wasn’t exactly a hearty thank-you.”

“But I meant it.”

“So why the tone?”

“If you were with Tommy and this happened would you have jumped on top of him?”