Lawman-in-Charge

Night had fallen, and he reached for the radio, fumbling with the buttons. “Copy that. What’s up, Tony?”

“Found a dead body floating in the lake.”

Oh, boy. He had heard tourists who drank too much and fell out of their boats were not uncommon in the summer months in the area. And there was nothing worse than a floater. “Got an ID on the vic?”

“Yeah.” There was a small silence. “You’d better get out here, Sheriff. This girl is local and she didn’t die by accident.”

He shot to his feet, instantly wide awake, his gaze sharp in the moonlight. “What do you mean she didn’t die by accident?”

“She was murdered.” Tony’s voice sounded strained. “Strangled with a towrope before being dumped in the water.”

TWO

Megan had trouble falling asleep, and when she did she dreamed of Katie. Even though at some level Megan knew it was a dream, she still heard the sounds of a struggle as Katie fought her captor. Katie’s muffled cry somehow pierced her consciousness and she awoke, her heart pounding as if she’d been the one attacked instead of her sister.

If only she could go back, to the night Katie had been murdered. Maybe if she’d gone with her sister to the pub, Katie would still be alive today. Katie had asked her to go along to Flannigan’s, as she was planning to meet some new guy she’d met during her job in the college library, but Megan hadn’t gone with her because she had to work early the next morning. So she sent Katie off by herself.

Only to be woken hours later to investigate a crime scene. Never in a million years had she expected to find Katie as the victim.

Megan splashed cold water on her face and then crawled back into bed and tried to fall back asleep. But as much as she needed rest, she kept hearing sounds outside. Wildlife, no doubt. After so many years in the city, the sounds of the animals took some getting used to.

A loud pounding on her door startled her so badly she almost fell out of bed. For a moment she wondered if she was dreaming again, but no, the pounding continued. Then it stopped. Her imagination? Or reality? She hated not being sure.

Her cell phone rang and she grabbed it from her bedside table, staring at it apprehensively, not recognizing the number. When was the last time anyone had called her? Her friend from Chicago, Shana Dawson, had probably called once or twice, but it had been so long ago she honestly couldn’t remember. Hesitantly, she flipped open the phone. “Hello?”

“Megan? This is Sheriff Torretti. We need your help. I’m standing outside your door.”

Relief that she hadn’t imagined the pounding was quickly replaced by surprise that the sheriff had her cell number, and then replaced again by cold dread. She scrambled out of bed and grabbed her robe. “I’ll be right there.”

“Thank you.”

Why would the sheriff need her help? She cinched the robe tightly around her waist and flipped on the porch light so she could see through the front window to verify that it was, indeed, the sheriff out there, before she unlatched the dead bolt on the door. When she opened it, she realized the man standing on her doorstep was the same one she’d met earlier that day outside of Rose’s Cafe. She flushed. “Sheriff? What’s going on?”

He hesitated a moment. “There’s been a murder. I don’t have access to a crime team and I really need your expertise.”

Her first instinct was to refuse. She didn’t go on-site to investigate crime scenes any more. She’d given up her career after Katie’s death. These days, all she could manage was processing routine DNA samples. “Surely someone on your staff is qualified to gather evidence?”

He shook his head, his expression betraying his frustration. “In normal circumstances, yes, but we don’t get many murders here. I’ve already called the Madison crime lab. They’ll process our evidence of a serial killer, which they’d never believe considering we only have one victim. So as of right now, we’re on our own.”

She frowned, realizing he was right. Crime teams existed in big cities like Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles but not in small communities like Crystal Lake. Once she’d thrived on the details, the exactness of the work that helped piece a complex puzzle together. But since Katie’s death, she’d lost her edge.

“I’m retired from CSI work,” she protested weakly.

“Please?” She had the impression from the hard set to his jaw that he didn’t beg very often, and the worried concern she glimpsed in his gaze tugged at her in a way she couldn’t describe. “I’ll take your rusty skills over nothing.”

A murder. She shivered in the dark night. She’d always believed victims and their families deserved justice. Once she’d been at the top of her game, but not any longer. Yet could she honestly refuse to help?

No. She couldn’t. Ignoring the dread curled in her stomach, she nodded. “Give me a few minutes to get dressed.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

She tried to smile as she closed the door, but her hands were shaking. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She brushed her teeth and then quickly donned a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt and her work boots before heading outside. Sheriff Torretti was waiting patiently beside his squad car.

“Where’s the body?” she asked.

“On the south shore of the lake. You can follow me,” he said as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

She did as he requested, and all too soon, she followed him to a place where several cop cars, red and blue lights flashing, were parked in front of a path leading down to the lake. Carrying her camera and a flashlight, she climbed from the car.

“This way.” Sheriff Torretti gestured toward the path.

She didn’t walk down the path right away, but swept her high-powered flashlight over the scene to see if she could pick out any clues. She saw nothing more than a few bent and broken branches, indicating that someone, most likely the cops, had been down this way. Using her camera, she took several pictures, just in case.

She continued making her way down to the lake, acutely aware of the sheriff following behind her. Despite her initial embarrassment at being with him, she had to admit his presence helped her to feel safe.

When she reached the clearing, she stopped and once again scanned the area with the flashlight. “Have your deputies been down here?”

“Yes. Deputy Tony Markham pulled the victim out of the water because he didn’t realize at first she’d been murdered.”

“He found the victim?”

Luke nodded. “Yeah, apparently her mother called when her daughter didn’t come home at curfew, so he went looking for her. This path is used by the high school kids when they come down to the lake.”

She didn’t move, but swept her light around the wooded area, searching for clues. “Do you often have bodies washing ashore?”

His lips thinned. “No. Before I came there was a drunk tourist who fell off his boat and hit his head on the way into the water. But that was over two years ago. This is the first homicide in the eighteen months since I’ve been here.”

Even one homicide in the small town of Crystal Lake seemed like too much. It took a minute for her to register what he’d said. He was relatively new to the area, just like she was. “Do you think the murder actually happened here?”

“I couldn’t see anything to indicate the crime had taken place here. The lake is spring-fed, so there is a slight current running north to south. To be honest, this could have happened anywhere.”

Not good news. It was always harder to find detailed evidence when a body has been moved. Even worse when the body was dumped in the water.

Interesting that this was the normal hangout place for the teens of Crystal Lake. If the crime had been committed elsewhere, had the killer chosen his spot on purpose, knowing the body would wash up here to be found quickly? Crystal Lake was several miles long and surrounded by woods. There had to be a zillion other places in the area to hide a body.

Fighting apprehension, she headed closer to the lake. A young female victim was lying on the bank, where the deputy had dragged her from the water. She flashed a light along the ground, seeing a mess of trampled footprints, more than just from the deputy, but she supposed if the kids were down here often, that wouldn’t be unusual.

As she moved closer, the scene became surreal. The water changed to a blacktop parking lot at the corner of Flannigan’s Irish pub. The young woman was lying at an awkward angle, the orange braided rope bright against her slim neck. Katie? No, it can’t be. Katie? Katie!

“Are you all right?”

The deep voice beside her snapped her back to the present and she drew an uneven breath, trying to focus on the matter at hand. Her victim, the girl in the water, was blonde, just like Katie. Megan moved closer, focusing on her face, realizing with dread that she remembered the girl. “Oh, no,” she whispered.

“What?” Luke Torretti followed beside her, careful not to disturb anything. “Do you know her?”

“Teagan,” she murmured, remembering the scene outside the diner. “No, that isn’t right, she called her friend Teagan. I don’t know this girl’s name.”

“Liza Campbell, an eighteen-year-old high school senior.” Sheriff Torretti’s tone was grim. “When did you see her last?”

“This afternoon, just before I ran into you outside Rose’s Café. She was heading down to the lake with a redhead named Teagan and they met up with a group of boys.” Megan took another step and almost went to her knees. The rope wrapped around the girl’s neck was badly faded, but in the light of her flashlight she would guess the original color had been red, pink or orange. Regardless of the color, it was polyurethane and braided.

Just like Katie’s.

Luke saw Megan sway and reached out to grab her. Her arm was slim yet strong beneath his fingers. It was the second time she’d appeared about ready to faint. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked her to come out here. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

His question snapped her out of the reverie she’d fallen into. Her shoulders stiffened. “I’m fine.” As if to prove it, she shrugged off his hand, lifted her camera and began taking pictures, pretending the brutal slaying of a young girl didn’t bother her.

He stayed close, just in case, watching her work. Crime scene experts were usually not squeamish when it came to violent death, but having heard about Megan O’Ryan’s history from Frank, he could understand what she was probably going through. Her younger sister had been strangled too. The similarities between the two crimes had to be difficult for her. Yet she approached the scene with cool professionalism, obviously stronger than her slim, petite frame looked.

She spent a lot of time looking around the area. She walked over to the fire ring not far off the lakeshore and bent to examine the ashes. “They’re still warm,” she murmured.

“I know.”

Nodding, she stood and went back down to the young girl’s body. “Rigor mortis has just set in, so I estimate the time of death is approximately within the past four hours.”

He agreed with her assessment and knew the warm ashes gave credence to her time frame. “I suppose the lake water washed away any evidence.”

“Maybe, maybe not. There’s still some mud embedded in the bottom of her running shoes. And I would recommend sending the faded rope around her neck to the lab. If the perp wasn’t wearing gloves, there might be skin cells in the fibers of the rope. We could get lucky.”

Luck wasn’t his strong suit, but he nodded. He wasn’t going to take any chances. Not with this. His first murder as interim sheriff.

Dawn was breaking over the horizon by the time the medical examiner left the scene, taking Liza’s shrouded body with him.

Megan came up beside him. “Liza didn’t die here. The dirt embedded in the bottom of her shoes has the consistency of clay. I can’t see anything around here except sandy dirt and a bit of moss.”

“So what do you recommend?” he asked.

She grimaced and shrugged. “It’s a long shot, but we could do a broader search, to see if there’s some other area around the lake where a scuffle might have taken place. Can you shut down access to the lake for a while?”

“We can shut down the public boat launch, but there are at least twenty-five dwellings surrounding the lake. I can send a few deputies out to ask everyone to stay off the lake, if you think it will help.”

“I think it would help. We need to start as soon as we have more light.”

“And what if she wasn’t killed close to the lake?” Luke couldn’t help but point out the obvious. “She could have been killed anywhere, there’s natural forest for miles around. Don’t you think your plan to search the entire lake is a bit extreme?”

“Extreme? Or inconvenient?” Her gaze bored into his. In the faint light he couldn’t tell what color her eyes were, but for the first time tonight, there was a fiery determination shooting daggers at him. “If she was your daughter, don’t you think a little inconvenience would be worth it to find her killer?”

Touché. As a cop he knew very well how family members of victims needed closure. She was right. He raised a hand in silent surrender. “Okay. I’ll approve overtime for every single deputy to help us search.” He’d better call the mayor too, because it was only a matter of time before both of their phones would be ringing from angry and worried citizens. Especially once they started questioning everyone, including the hordes of tourists.

“You’re going to want to question Liza’s friends, Teagan and the boys she went out to the lake with.”

He swallowed the spark of annoyance. He had asked for her help, so there was no point in complaining when she gave it to him. “Yeah. I know.” He could get the names of the boys from Teagan, no doubt, and Liza’s best friend was exactly the place he intended to start.

Megan hesitated. “I realize I shouldn’t make rash judgments, but there was one boy, lanky and tall, with long dark hair, dressed all in black, who seemed to be a loner, standing apart from the rest of the group.”

His breath froze in his throat at her description. Long dark hair? Lanky and tall? Loner? Sam?

Was she really describing his son?

Oblivious to his internal turmoil, she continued, “He appeared angry, a deep scowl on his face. I remember thinking he looked like trouble. Maybe his anger got the better of him.”

Angry accurately described Sam. Trouble did too. But even if his son had been at the lake last night, that didn’t mean he’d had anything to do with Liza’s death. As far as he knew, Sam hadn’t been caught doing anything illegal.

Yet Sam hadn’t been home earlier when he’d come in from work. And he’d claimed he was hanging out with Doug. Luke thought back to when he’d gotten the call about finding Liza. He’d torn out of the house, heading straight to the crime scene without checking Sam’s room.

But now that he thought about it, Sam’s large, rusted, black four-wheel-drive Chevy truck hadn’t been in the driveway when he left. His gut clenched again. What time had the call come in? Quarter after two in the morning?

He told himself to relax, that Sam often didn’t come home by his curfew. He’d verify where Sam had spent the night, and it was highly likely Sam had a decent alibi.

Sam claimed to hate Luke for moving them to this small, podunk town, as he described it. But Sam wasn’t a bad kid. He may have gotten into a few fights, but always with other boys, never taking his anger out on a girl. Sam was quiet, not doing well in school, but that was normal teenage stuff. No, there was no reason for him to worry about Sam, not over something like this.

Not cold, premeditated murder.

“Thanks for the information,” he said, when he belatedly realized Megan was waiting for his response. “Don’t worry, we’ll check into every possibility.”

“I’m sure you will.” Megan looked slightly embarrassed, as if realizing she was ordering him around. She gave him a strained smile before turning toward her car. “We’ll need decent light, so I’ll meet you at the diner in three hours to start the search.”

“I’ll have everyone ready to go by then,” he agreed.

He watched her drive off. He didn’t leave right away. First he made his phone calls, ordering the deputies to report to work and then leaving a message for the mayor. Once those two most important tasks were finished, he debated between going home and going straight to the office.

After a short internal argument, he headed home. He told himself the main reason was to change clothes, knowing that this was going to be a long day with potential media exposure. As the interim sheriff, he was expected to be in uniform at all times.

But his heart squeezed in his chest when he pulled into the driveway.

Sam’s truck still wasn’t there.

Luke strode into the house, straight down the hall into Sam’s room. The bed wasn’t made, but then again, it rarely was. He stood in the center of the room, looking for some sign, anything to tell him that Sam had been there at least at some point during the night.

Dark clothing was scattered all over the floor, but he couldn’t tell if any of the garments had been recently worn and discarded. His son’s entire wardrobe consisted of black T-shirts and black jeans. Luke had taken some dirty dishes out of Sam’s room the day before, and there were no recently used plates or glasses lying about to indicate he’d come back at some point during the night.

Nothing at all to indicate Sam had been here. Luke swallowed hard.

Did that mean he didn’t have an alibi? That maybe his son had been with the dead girl? Sam did seem to be angry, but surely not angry enough to take someone’s life.

He desperately needed to find Sam, to question him before one of his deputies did.

THREE

Megan decided to eat breakfast at Rose’s Café before meeting Luke and the rest of his deputies to begin the search. She wasn’t really hungry, but her brain needed nourishment in order to remain sharp enough to find any clues as to where Liza might have been killed.

The similarities between Liza’s death and the victims of the St. Patrick’s Strangler, as the press had dubbed Paul Sherman, bothered her. She wanted to talk to the sheriff about her suspicions, but he hadn’t been at the office when she’d stopped by on her way back to the café.

Josie was behind the counter again. Megan ordered an omelet for breakfast and then asked Josie if she’d seen the sheriff recently.

“He’s out back, sweetie, talking to his son.”

“His son?” She couldn’t hide her shock. “He’s married?”

“Widowed.” Josie grinned, enjoying the gossip. “His boy runs a little wild, though, if you know what I mean.”

Widowed. Why the tragic news made her feel a mixture of sadness and relief she had no idea. Megan slid off her stool and walked outside, circling the corner of the diner. She stopped abruptly, remaining semi-hidden behind the Dumpster, when she caught a glimpse of Sheriff Luke Torretti facing down his son.

“How long have you been drinking?” Luke asked in a low furious voice.

“What do you care?” The boy was the same one she’d noticed the day before, the tall, lanky kid with the long, dark tangled hair, only today his hair was pulled back in a stubby ponytail, partially hidden by the paper hat the boy wore. Dressed in scruffy jeans and a long apron tied around his narrow waist, he looked to be the café dishwasher.

She should leave, go back inside rather than stand here eavesdropping, but investigative instincts she’d thought long dead came to life, preventing her from leaving.

“You’re right, Sam. Why should I care? So what if you go to jail? So what if you’re convicted of strangling Liza Campbell? Why would I care about what happens to you, when you don’t?”

The boy, Sam, blanched, and Megan thought he looked ready to throw up. Maybe it was a hangover from the drinking Luke mentioned or the blunt description of Liza’s death. “Doug will vouch for me. I slept on the floor of his bedroom.”

“And what time was that exactly?” Luke didn’t give his son an inch. “Because from what I’m hearing, you were the last one to see her alive, and your only alibi during the time of Liza’s murder is your best friend Doug.”

“That’s really great, Dad. Thanks a lot.” The familiar sneer was back on Sam’s face. “It’s really nice to know my own father suspects me of killing some stupid chick.”

“Stupid chick?” Luke’s voice had gone dangerously soft. “Is that what you think of her? What’s the matter, Sam? Did she turn you down when you asked her out? Did she look down her nose at you? Make you mad? Did you have a fight? Tell me what happened between the two of you. If you come clean and tell me everything now, it will be better for you in the long run.”

Something in Luke’s tone must have warned Sam not to push it. Instead of hiding behind sarcasm, he responded to his father’s questions. “I didn’t fight with her. I never asked her out. She wouldn’t have gone with me anyway, she’s still hung up on Sean Mathews.”

“Is Sean her boyfriend? Was he with you guys last night?”

Sam shook his head. “No, Sean left two weeks ago to join the army. He’s in basic training down in Kentucky somewhere. Liza was mad he broke up with her.”

“So your story is that Zach, Doug, Teagan and Patrice left first, but you stayed behind a little while longer to talk with Liza. At midnight, you left Liza and went back to Doug’s house. There were six of you at the bonfire and you split a case of beer. After you and Doug went to his house, you sat around and finished off a bottle of Jack Daniels while playing video games.”

“Yeah.” Sam stared down at his feet for a long minute. “That’s what happened. Liza was fine when I left.”

“You let her go home alone?” Luke pressed.

Sam flushed with guilt. “I offered to take her home, but she said she’d be fine. She gave me the impression she wasn’t going straight home. I figured she might be meeting someone else. None of my business what she does in her free time.”

There was a long pause, as Luke digested that information. “How often do you drink?” Luke finally asked.

“Not that often.” The way Sam avoided his father’s gaze made Megan believe he wasn’t being honest.

“And you didn’t bother to come home last night, or to call to let me know you were planning to spend the night at Doug’s.” Luke’s sarcastic tone made her wince in sympathy for Sam, although it sounded as if the kid deserved it. She would have been just as upset if Katie had pulled such a stunt. “And where were Doug’s parents while you were drinking?”

“His parents are divorced. His mom works nights as a nurse at Hope County Hospital.” Sam hunched his shoulders. “This is the first time we got drunk on hard liquor. Normally we just drink a few beers. Doug’s mom is a nice lady, it’s not her fault we were stupid.”

“You’re right about that,” Luke agreed, his tone slightly bitter. “You and Doug were stupid. Really stupid. Drinking isn’t going to help, Sam. Don’t you realize by now that drinking is only going to make things worse?”

A heavy silence fell, and Megan wondered if she should choose that moment to interrupt. But then Luke dismissed his son. “Get back to work. One of the deputies might need to ask you some questions later.”

Sam looked as if he wanted to say something more, but he clamped his mouth shut and spun on his heel, walking back into the back door of the café. Luke turned and saw her, his eyebrows pulling together in a small frown when he realized she’d heard at least a portion of his conversation with his son. “You were right,” he said with a grimace. “He is trouble.”

She bit her lip, a twinge of sympathy making her regret her rash statement. She took several steps, closing the gap between them. “I’m sorry,” she said in a low tone. “I didn’t realize he was your son.”

Luke shrugged. “Not your fault.” His shoulders drooped, as if the interaction with his son had worn him out. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Was there something you wanted?”