Bleeding Through: A Rachel Goddard Mystery (Rachel Goddard Mysteries) (5 page)

“If she was killed soon after she was abducted, and stored somewhere cold,” Dr. Lauter said, “decomp and the other processes would have been slowed down considerably but not stopped.”

“Stored?” Brandon said, frowning at the photos.

“It’s just a hypothesis. I mentioned it because she doesn’t appear to have lost any weight, and if she’d been kept prisoner for a month—” Dr. Lauter shook her head. “Let’s wait and see what the autopsy shows.”

“All right,” Tom said. “We don’t know exactly when she was killed. But let’s think about the way she died. Strangulation takes strength and time. The killer had to hold onto a healthy, athletic young woman for several minutes, while she was struggling.”

“Probably a man,” Dennis said. “Boyfriend? Stalker? Didn’t the Fairfax cops check out those angles?”

“I’m sure they did,” Tom said. “Her father thinks there’s another possibility. I don’t know how seriously to take it, but Dan thinks her murder’s connected to her work with the Virginia Innocence Project in Fairfax County. I’m not sure whether she was doing it for course credit or just for the experience, but she wanted to prove Vance Lankford is innocent.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dennis said, his tone sour. He handed the two pictures back to Dr. Lauter. “The guy beat Brian Hadley to a pulp with a tire iron. Why anybody would think he’s innocent is a mystery to me, and I don’t know what an amateur could turn up six years later that would clear him.”

“I don’t either,” Tom said. “My dad worked that case. The evidence was solid. But the Virginia Innocence Project’s been able to get new trials for a few state prisoners, and they’ve found evidence to clear two people. The lawyer who runs it called me when she decided to let Shelley look into Lankford’s case, and she sounds pretty sharp. I never expected it to amount to anything, but I doubt she would have gotten the innocence project involved if she didn’t see some merit in it.”

“Do you think one of the Hadleys could have been involved in Shelley’s murder?” Brandon asked. “They haven’t been too happy about her stirring things up, asking questions. To their minds, she was trying to set Brian’s killer free.”

“Dan told me Skeet Hadley’s been harassing the whole Beecher family,” Tom said. “For months, ever since he found out what Shelley was doing.”

“That sounds like Skeet,” Brandon said. “I went to school with him, K through twelve. He’s got the worst temper of anybody I know, and he never lets go of a grudge.”

“So maybe he went to talk to Shelley and ended up killing her in a rage?” Dennis asked.

“After driving for hours to get to Northern Virginia, probably stewing about it the whole time?” Dr. Lauter put in. “That’s not spur of the moment rage. That’s premeditation.”

Tom closed the useless file. It would fatten up soon enough. “It’s just one possibility we have to look at.”

“So we start by talking to Skeet?” Brandon asked.

“After I see Shelley’s folks again. I didn’t get a lot of details from Dan earlier because there was so much going on.” As he stood, Tom glanced at his watch. Almost time for dinner. He wanted to eat it with Rachel and take a break from bad news. “By the way, the Fairfax County detective who’s been working Shelley’s disappearance is on his way down.”

Dennis grimaced and said something Tom didn’t catch.

“He’ll stop in Roanoke to see the body before he comes here. She could have been killed in his jurisdiction. Until we pin down the location of the murder, this is a joint investigation. Accommodate him as best you can—but don’t share anything with him without my go-ahead.”

Dennis grumbled, “Like we need some outside cop getting underfoot, telling us what to do.”

Which was more or less the same thing Tom was thinking.

***

Tom parked the cruiser on the side of the road a hundred feet from the Beechers’ driveway, and he and Brandon walked to the house past cars and trucks lining both sides of the pavement. Vehicles filled the driveway bumper to bumper. In the front yard, half a dozen preschool boys played a clumsy, noisy game of kick-the-ball on grass still wet from the earlier rain, seemingly unaware of the turmoil and heartache gripping the family that lived here.

“My mom’s here,” Brandon said, gesturing at one of the cars they passed on the driveway. “The Beechers and my folks are good friends.”

“Yeah, I guess you knew Shelley pretty well, didn’t you?”

Brandon didn’t answer, and after a few steps Tom realized the younger deputy wasn’t keeping pace. He turned. Brandon stood on the driveway with his head bowed, thumbs hooked over his gun belt.

“You okay with going in there?” Tom asked.

Brandon drew a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and jutted his chin. “Yeah, I’m okay. Let’s go.”

Although Tom’s family wasn’t close to the Beechers, he’d known them as long as he could remember, and he wasn’t any more eager than Brandon to wade into the sorrow this house contained. Teary-eyed women, men who didn’t know quite what to say or do, Dan and Sarah and Megan in more pain than any kind words or gestures could alleviate. Every one of their friends and neighbors, faced with the loss the Beechers had suffered, would be thinking even as they offered sympathy:
Thank god it isn’t us.

Climbing the front steps, Tom admitted to himself that he would feel the same way if he and Rachel had children. He didn’t want to imagine how he’d react if anything happened to his little nephew Simon, and at times like this, he wasn’t sure he wanted any kids of his own to worry about. One more way to get your heart broken in a merciless world.

Aw, hell, who was he trying to fool? He’d marry Rachel today if she would say yes, and he would welcome and love as many kids as she wanted to have.

The living room was so crammed with women that Tom and Brandon had to shoulder their way in, trying to be polite about it. The combined odors of hairspray and perfume hung in the air. The two of them worked their way over to the couch where Sarah slumped, vacant-eyed, with Brandon’s mother on one side and Joanna McKendrick on the other. Marie Connolly had apparently come straight from the bakery she and her husband owned, and she still wore her customary black slacks and pink shirt, with the logo
Connolly’s Country-Fresh Baked Goods
stitched above her heart. She had an arm around Sarah’s shoulders.

Joanna, a middle-aged blond woman dressed in the jeans and boots she wore around her horse farm, looked up at Tom with sad, weary eyes and shook her head as if she had no words for what she felt. She pressed a clean tissue into Sarah’s hand and lifted the hand to catch a trickle of mucus before it ran down over her lips.

Tom realized all the women had fallen silent, waiting to hear what he would say to Sarah. “I don’t have any news,” he said. “I won’t bother you with questions now, but I’d like to talk to Dan.”

Sarah stared into space, giving no sign that she’d heard Tom. Joanna said, “He’s on the porch.”

With Brandon trailing him, Tom continued through the house. In the kitchen, platters and serving dishes covered with aluminum foil crowded the breakfast table and counters—hastily assembled condolence gifts from people who had little else to offer except their words and their presence. The aromas of beef, chicken, and freshly baked bread came as a relief to Tom after the chemical haze in the living room, but he wondered how long it would be before the Beechers felt like eating again.

They found Dan, and a dozen other men, on the big screened porch at the rear of the house. Dan stood at the screen, staring mutely into the backyard and the woods beyond. The family’s yellow Labrador, Scout, sat at his side, leaning into his leg as if propping him up. The other men stood back, giving Dan space.

Tom touched Dan’s arm, startling him into awareness. “Can we talk for a couple of minutes? I have to ask you some questions.”

“What good are your questions now?” Dan’s voice came out hoarse, his words a little slurred, making Tom wonder if he’d taken a drink to dull his pain. “She’s gone. We’ve lost our daughter.”

“I need you to focus right now on helping us find out who did this. That’s the best thing you can do for your family. Can we talk somewhere in private?” Megan, Tom realized, had probably retreated upstairs, and he didn’t want to go up there with Dan and disturb her. “Why don’t we go out in the yard?”

Dan heaved a sigh and nodded. Tom pushed open the door to the yard and let Scout run out first.

On the small flagstone-paved area that served as a patio, several folded plastic chairs lay in a stack and a grill on wheels stood under a protective black cover. Dan followed his dog onto the lawn.

Falling in next to Dan, with Brandon on the other side, Tom said, “You told me earlier that you think Skeet Hadley had something to do with Shelley’s death. I wanted to ask you—”

“He had everything to do with it.” Dan swung around to glare at Tom. “I should’ve stopped him before it went this far. I’ll never forgive myself for not—” He choked up and couldn’t go on.

“Exactly what has Skeet done to make you think he would hurt Shelley?”

Swiping a hand across his face, Dan blinked back tears. “He’s been over here I don’t know how many times, telling me I had to put a stop to it, make Shelley back off. But damn it, she wasn’t doing anything to the Hadleys. It didn’t involve them.”

“Did he ever harass Shelley directly?” Brandon asked.

“Oh yeah. He kept calling her, telling her what she was doing was wrong, she was just causing the family a lot of grief on top of what they already suffered. She bought a new cell phone with a new number just to keep him from getting to her. And I had to throw him out of the house every single time Shelley came home. He just wouldn’t leave her alone about it.”

“Today is the first time I’ve heard about this, Dan.” Tom didn’t try to hide his exasperation.

“Why didn’t you report it?” Brandon asked.

Dan threw up his hands. “I wish to god I had. I wish we’d taken out some kind of order to keep him away from her. Away from us. But Shelley said she understood, and she didn’t want to hurt the Hadleys by getting Skeet in trouble with the law. God, why did I listen to her? Why didn’t I do something to protect my daughter?”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Tom said, although he knew he’d feel the same way in Dan’s situation. “Aside from Skeet, can you think of anybody who would’ve wanted to hurt her?”

“I told you it’s a waste of time to—”

“I know, I know. Just bear with me here. Was she having problems with her boyfriend?”

Dan pulled in a breath, let it out, as if forcing himself to be patient. “There’s a boy she hung around with, but I don’t know how serious they were about each other. We never met him. His name’s Justin something. He’s a photographer. Didn’t sound to me like he amounted to much, but she liked him. I never got the feeling he was giving her any trouble.”

Tom wrote down the first name. He’d have to find out more from the Fairfax detective.

“Skeet’s the one you ought to be looking at,” Dan said.

“I intend to. Meanwhile, I want you to stay away from him. Stay away from all the Hadleys.”

Dan’s jaw clenched.

“Think about Sarah and Megan. You don’t want to do anything to make this harder for them.”

Dan held Tom’s gaze for a long moment, then shook his head. “I’m not making any promises I can’t keep.”

Chapter Five

Rachel pushed rice around on her plate with a fork as she tried to come up with words to tell Tom about Michelle’s impromptu visit without making it sound as if a ton of trouble was about to crash down on them.

Since they’d sat down to dinner at the kitchen table he’d barely spoken, and he ate mechanically with a distant expression on his face. Rachel knew he was totally absorbed by the Shelley Beecher case. He’d changed into his brown uniform and planned to get back to work after eating. She might not talk to him again until morning, and she couldn’t wait that long to tell him Michelle would be there in a few hours.

The mantel clock in the living room began chiming seven, as if nudging her to get it over with before she ran out of time. On the kitchen wall next to their table the bird in the old cuckoo clock popped out and added its raspy chorus.

Rachel waited until the clocks fell silent. “I’m sorry I can’t give you more notice than this, but my sister’s coming to stay for a few days.” Her voice sounded like a shout in the quiet kitchen. “She’ll be here tomorrow.”

For a moment Tom seemed to have trouble focusing on what she’d said. He blinked. “Your sister?”

“Yes.” Avoiding Tom’s direct gaze, Rachel grabbed her glass and swallowed a gulp of water. “Michelle’s having…a problem, a fairly serious one, and she needs to get away for a few days. She wants to talk to me about it.”

Tom folded his napkin and tucked it under the edge of his plate. Rachel could tell he was trying not to show a reaction, but she caught the sudden wariness in his eyes.

“A marriage problem?” he asked. “Is she leaving her husband?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. In fact, Kevin’s driving her out here, but he has to go back on Monday because of work.”

Frowning, Tom said, “She has a serious problem and her husband’s going to drop her off and leave her?”

“Yeah, that surprised me too,” Rachel admitted. “He’s always so protective toward her. But he has something major scheduled at work, a negotiation of a settlement in a big lawsuit, and he’s in charge for his firm. He can’t be replaced.” She paused. “You’ll like him. He’s a great guy. And I really am sorry to surprise you like this, especially now. Do you mind?”