The Right Call (16 page)

“Did you drive?”

“Yes, but I parked one block over and walked.”

“What happened when you got there?”

“Natalie was sitting on the front porch drinking a Coke and offered me one. She told me she’d been hiding there all evening. Said she was in big trouble for using too many minutes on her cell phone and didn’t want to have another fight with her parents. She asked me what she should do.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“I told her that her parents were probably more worried than mad. And she should call them and tell them she wanted to come home. Of course, that’s not what she wanted to hear. She wanted to come home with me. I told her that wasn’t going to happen, and she started to pout and went down and sat on the front steps.”

“You expect me to believe that you, a convicted child molester, told a thirteen-year-old girl to go home to her parents when she was willing to get in the car with you?”

“Look, I thought about taking her with me, okay? But I learned my lesson. I don’t want to go back to jail. I decided before I ever went there that it was not going to be like that.”

“What happened next?” Brill asked.

“You know how girls that age can be drama queens. She went on and on about how her parents would never forgive her and she’d be grounded for the rest of her life. I figured if I listened until she was through venting, I could talk her into going home. There was no way I was taking her anywhere with me. And I couldn’t just leave her there all night.”

“Were you sitting next to her on the steps, facing the street?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see the shooter’s vehicle approaching?”

“First I heard it. I remember because it slowed down, and I was nervous that the police might be out looking for her and I’d get caught violating my parole. I looked up, relieved it was just a red truck. Then I heard shots and a few seconds later realized Natalie had been hit.”

“You’re not wearing glasses. Do you wear contacts?”

“No, my eyesight’s fine.”

“And you were, what, thirty feet from the street when Natalie was shot?”

“What’s your point?”

“My point”—Brill got steely quiet and let her gaze bore into his conscience—“is that you could’ve seen who fired the gun.”

Chapter 19

Brill
walked in the front door of her home and out to the kitchen, glad to see Kurt sitting at the table, reading the newspaper.

“Mmm, something smells good. Where are the girls?”

“Vanessa put a meatloaf in the oven and is resting, and Emily’s watching Carter. And dear old Dad”—he flashed a grin—“is taking advantage of all the help.”

“It’s only going to get better with Emily out of school tomorrow for the summer.” Brill walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door. “You want something to drink?”

“I’ve got a Coke, thanks.”

She reached in the fridge and got a bottle of water, then sat at the table across from Kurt. She twisted off the cap and took a sip of water. “How did Vanessa seem today?”

“Quiet. I can only imagine what she must be feeling. Had to be terrifying to see Drew killed right in front of her. I think she’s more rattled than she’s letting on. She’s holding back for Ethan’s sake.”

“Poor thing,” Brill said. “I don’t need to tell you how badly I want to get this guy. We’re using all the resources we’ve got to find a connection between Drew and Tal and the shooter. If there’s a connection, we’ll find it.”

“
If?”
Kurt’s eyebrows came together. “There’s no way you can think these shootings were coincidental.”

“No, but we did a thorough check of their incoming and outgoing calls and emails”—Brill loosened her tie and slid it off—“and nothing leads us to believe either roommate was involved in anything questionable. They didn’t even share the same friends.”

“There
has
to be a connection, Brill.”

“My gut says you’re right, but the facts we have don’t bear it out. On the surface, both shootings appear to be random, though even Sam and Trent aren’t buying it.” She looked out at the hazy foothills, determined to finish updating Kurt on the case and then forget about it until tomorrow. “We did get a break, though. The state police tracked down the guy who emailed Natalie Benchfield. He is a registered sex offender out on parole. No surprise.”

She told Kurt everything that had happened from the time she and Trent began interrogating Hans Bowerly until he confessed to meeting Natalie.

“We had another reason for bringing him in, Kurt. The front steps of that vacant house aren’t far from the street. We hoped he got a look at the shooter.”

“Did he?”

“It was dark, but he saw the passenger fire the gun—a man with a beard and mustache. Thick, dark hair. He thinks he was young.”

“That’s not a detailed description.”

“Facial hair is easy to grow and remove, so it might not help us. But it’s more than we had before. And if the shooter doesn’t think he was seen, he might not change his looks. We’ve released the description to the media. Someone might know something about this bearded man—or might have seen him.”

“What’s going to happen to Hans Bowerly?”

“He’ll cut a deal for helping us and won’t be sent back to jail for violating his parole. There’s no proof that anything illicit took place between Natalie and him, so we can’t charge him with anything.”

“So where do you go from here?”

“Good question. We’ve got a stolen 2008 red Ford F-150 with no identifiable fingerprints or DNA. We’ve got a mystery shooter with a mustache and beard, but otherwise too vague for an artist’s sketch. And from the rifling profile, we know the weapon was a Smith and Wesson second or third generation semiautomatic pistol. But without fingerprints or DNA, we’re essentially stalemated. We need to start digging deeper into the personal lives of Drew Langley and Tal Davison. There has to be something there to connect the two roommates to the shooter.”

“Hi, Mom.” Vanessa walked into the kitchen and put her arms around Brill. “Did you find out anything new?”

“We’ve now got a partial description of the shooter.”

“Really?”

Brill gave Vanessa the description she had released to the media.

“Though having a general description of the shooter is helpful,” Brill said, “we’re still going to have to dig more deeply into the personal lives of Drew and his roommate.”

Vanessa sat in the chair next to her dad. “Ethan doesn’t believe Drew was involved in anything shady.”

“That may be true, but if these were intentional murders and not random shootings, we’ve got to figure out why someone wanted them dead.”

“I feel so bad for Drew’s parents,” Vanessa said, “and for Ethan.”

Brill studied her daughter’s face. “Honey, if Ethan told you something about his cousin that could help the investigation, even if it was private, you wouldn’t keep it from me, would you?”

“Of course not. I’d insist that Ethan come to you with it.”

“Good.”

Brill’s phone vibrated. She took the phone off her belt clip and glanced at the incoming caller name and number. “Excuse me. I need to take this—yes, Beau Jack, what is it?”

“You’re not going to believe this, Chief, but I think we might have recovered the Smith and Wesson used in the shootings.”

“What?” She locked gazes with Kurt. “Where’d you find it?”

“In the Dumpster behind the Toffee Emporium,” Beau Jack said. “We got an anonymous call from a man who said we would find it there, wrapped in a towel. We’re about to take it back to the station and dust it for prints.”

“See if you can find out who placed that call.”

“I’m already on it.”

She glanced up at the kitchen clock. “I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

Ethan sat with Vanessa on the screened-in porch at the Jessups’ house, waiting to find out if the gun the police found would lead to the person who killed Drew.

“I don’t know what’s taking my mother so long,” Vanessa said. “We probably should go ahead and eat dinner without her. I’ve been through this enough to know she may not get home for hours.”

“I sure hope the gun leads to the killer.” Ethan squeezed her hand. “I’ve always tried to be there for grieving people, but I’ve never really understood how it feels to lose someone until now.”

Vanessa sighed. “I remember when my grandparents died in the car wreck. We were all sad for a long time, and it didn’t seem real then either. We just need to get Drew’s funeral behind us. The next few days are going to be hard. Too bad it had to come right on top of Memorial Day weekend.” Vanessa stood and arched her back. “I’m going to go get dinner on the table. Would you mind rounding up the family?”

“Be glad to. Your meatloaf smells delicious.”

Ethan followed Vanessa to the door, where she almost ran headlong into her dad.

“I was just coming to get you,” Kurt said.

“Have you heard from Mom?”

“No. But we might as well eat. Your mother is liable to be tied up for a while.”

“You’re reading my mind. I was just coming inside to get it on the table.”

“How can I help?” Kurt said.

“Pour the iced tea. Ethan, would you get the meatloaf out of the oven and set it on the stove?”

“Yes, ma’am. You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Ethan followed Kurt and Vanessa into the kitchen, where Emily was strapping Carter into his high chair.

How natural it was being with Vanessa’s family. It seemed so unfair that he had waited months for school to be out so he could spend the summer getting to know them better—and now tragedy had once again taken center stage.

Brill stood at the window in her office, a cup of coffee in her hand, and looked at the flaming pink sky above city hall.

She heard footsteps and turned around just as Trent Norris breezed into her office.

“The gun’s registered to an Edgar R. Ortega of Irvine, California,” he said. “It was stolen six months ago, but it’s definitely been fired recently. We’ve asked ballistics to put a rush on it, and we should know soon whether the bullets we retrieved from our victims came from this gun.”

“Good work.”

“There’s a bonus.” Trent flashed a half-moon smile. “We did get a complete thumbprint and several partials. They don’t match anyone’s in the system—yet.”

Brill took a sip of coffee. “Let’s make sure we actually have the murder weapon and this isn’t some kind of stunt. But regardless, we need to refocus on Tal Davison and Drew Langley. Let’s start digging into their personal lives and revisit the parents with the idea that these young men may have been targets and not random victims. I know it’s a difficult time for the families with the funerals this week and Memorial Day weekend coming up, but this can’t wait.”

Ethan did another lap around the kitchen, Carter riding on his shoulders and giggling with delight.

“Okay, buddy, that’s it for tonight.” Ethan set Carter on the floor, and the boy crawled to Vanessa and pulled up on her legs.

“Wow, that was fun, wasn’t it, baby boy?” Vanessa stroked Carter’s hair, then looked up at Ethan. “He loves it when you play with him. I know you really didn’t feel like it tonight. But thanks.”

“I love it too. And it sure beats moping around.”

Emily crushed a Coke can and threw it in the recycle bag. “Would you like me to take Carter upstairs and put on his pj’s?”

“Thanks, Shortcake. That’d be great. I’d like to walk Ethan out to the car.”

“Come on”—Emily held out her arms to Carter—“let’s go find Barney.”

Vanessa watched Emily take Carter out of the kitchen, then locked arms with Ethan and strolled toward the front door. “You need to get to bed.”

“You’re probably right. I have to be up at five and on site at six.”

“I wish you’d take a little time off—at least until Drew’s funeral is over.”

“I’ll do better if I stay busy.” Ethan opened the front door and followed her out on the stoop. “But I really do need the college money. If I don’t work, I don’t get paid.”

“Isn’t your uncle Ralph’s attitude toward his brother hard to take?”

“Yeah, but it’s always been hard for me. At least he’s consistent.” Ethan put his arm around Vanessa’s shoulder. “I don’t want to talk to him about it anymore. I said what I had to say.”

“Won’t it be awkward at work, tiptoeing around Drew’s death?”

“Not really. We’re all busy. But Stedman’s there, and I don’t have to pretend with him. He’s sympathetic about Drew, and he’s gone out of his way to be nice.”

Tessa stood staring out the kitchen window, and was startled when Antonio’s voice interrupted her thoughts.