A Silent Fury (3 page)

Blunt-force trauma was the cause of death. Had he picked up a rock and hit her? Pushed her down so she cracked her head against something? But there'd been no sign of that kind of thing at the crime scene. No, the murder weapon was portable.

And the killer either ditched it far enough from the crime scene that the crime-scene unit didn't come across it—or he still had it.

 

More questioning led nowhere. Dylan said he wouldn't press charges as long as Chad left him alone. The boys were
told to stay away from each other, and Chad's parents took him home. Alonso went to his room and shut the door. Dylan's mother, who finally arrived, was filled in on the incident. She expressed her concern, asking to be kept in the loop if anything new happened in the investigation. His father never showed up.

After the mass departure, Catelyn studied the floor of the porch, thinking. She felt in her gut the kid knew way more than he was telling, she just couldn't prove it.

But she would.

Alonso would be upset, and Joseph would hurt for his brother, but…

She stood, straightened her spine as she walked toward her car. He was a cop. A good one. He wouldn't argue the arrest if she had enough evidence, knew he would be right there with her reading the kid his rights if it came down to it. Granted, Dylan's jacket turning up at the scene didn't look good, but his explanation was reasonable. Girls wore their boyfriends' jackets all the time.

So far, nothing had come back from the lab, but she didn't really expect anything this early even with the rush she knew would be on the evidence. With a missing teen, time was of the essence. She'd call Sandy Newman, a tech in the crime lab and a woman Catelyn called friend, to see if Sandy could rush it even faster.

“Hey.”

She stopped, turned to find Joseph leaning against a porch pillar, watching her. This time her shiver had nothing to do with anger. She remembered how it felt to slip into his arms and rest her head against his broad shoulder, remembered what it felt like to feel secure, safe. As if the rest of the world didn't matter and everything would be all right.

His sudden change of expectations about certain things in their relationship had crushed her. She'd grown up promising
herself she'd be different than her parents, have a different life, a solid marriage.

At first, she'd never thought about dating Joseph simply because he was already rising through the ranks of the local police department.

Then one night, they'd been sitting outside talking after a huge family meal and he'd asked her if she'd like to go on a date with him. She'd hesitated because of his profession, then assured herself that this was Joseph. He knew her dreams, her hopes—her career. During the time she'd been at the academy, all through school, he'd supported her, encouraged her. And so it had begun. She'd fallen head over heels in love with him and he with her.

Until he'd suddenly started talking about “after we're married.” About how he was excited because he would make enough money to allow her to stay home. And how God had blessed him in allowing him to find a woman who held the same values as his mother.

And her world had come crashing down. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. He wanted her to shelve her career and become the kind of wife she'd vowed never to be.

At least it had seemed sudden, she thought. Had the signs been there the entire time and she'd just chosen to ignore them?

She'd been devastated that he would ask her to give up
her
career to make
him
happy. No way. She knew where that argument would lead.

And yet she couldn't deny the attraction between them had sizzled, both physically and emotionally. She'd been drawn to his softer side, the one he refused to allow anyone to really see. That, and the fact that, deep down, he had a heart for comforting hurting people.

And it was definitely still there—the attraction, all of it. She held her tongue and just looked at him, hoping her face didn't reveal her inner turmoil.

Finally, he started toward her, hands jammed into his pockets. “Can we talk?”

“About what?”

“Us.”

“That's not even a topic, Joseph. There is no ‘us,' hasn't been for a while now.”

“There could be. What we had, Catie…”

She ignored the shortened version of her name. He only called her that when they were alone.

“Had.
As in the past. You never once said anything about me quitting my job until I was halfway in love with you and thinking marriage. And then you come out with these expectations and blindsided me.”

“I didn't realize…and you shut me out.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Without even giving us a chance to work through it.”

“It wouldn't have mattered. You simply reinforced what I already knew. Why it wouldn't be a good idea to marry a cop.” She threw her hands up. “And why are we even having this conversation anyway? Look. Your brother's friend is in trouble. Let's just see where all this ends up before we do anything stupid like talk about…us.”

His jaw clenched; his fingers curled into a fist. “If you—we—have to arrest Dylan, I'll have to figure out how to help Alonso deal with it. But for now, we have to work together. Without letting our past interfere. Can we do that?”

“We can try.”

“Deal.”

He reached out to grasp her hand in a handshake and the tingles that danced up her arm told her she might talk a good game about ignoring their feelings for each other, but actually putting her words into actions was going to take a lot more work than she'd bargained for.

J
oseph stared over Catelyn's shoulder at the autopsy report. Nothing new there. And nothing new about his inability to keep himself from noticing how good she smelled. Just like he remembered. A combination of vanilla shampoo and strong coffee.

“Hey, look at this,” she said, just as he inched back a tad to put a little distance between his nose and her hair. She pointed to the list of items found with Tracy. “An iPod. An expensive one.”

“Did they run the serial number on it?”

“Yes, and would you look at that?”

“Stolen.”

“That kind of makes you sit up and go, ‘hmm,' doesn't it?”

“So what does a deaf kid do with an iPod. She must not have been totally deaf. Who reported it stolen?”

She shuffled to the next page. “Here. The Whites. Abe and Eva White on the west side of town.”

“A breaking and entering. There's been a rash of those lately, hasn't there?”

“Yep. The guys working it think it's gang related, but haven't been able to connect any specific members to the break-ins yet.”

“This might be your connection right here. Go back to the autopsy report.”

She did and he pointed out the tattoo. “She had a tattoo of a skull around her belly button.”

“The symbol of the new and up-and-coming local gang, The Skulls. We just had a whole session on gang training a month ago.”

Joseph sighed. “So now they've infiltrated the deaf school.”

“But Tracy spent the majority of her school day at the regular high school. It could be that the gang's not originating on the deaf campus, but the local high school campus.”

“Or neither.”

“Right. So Tracy was a gang member, we know that much. She's also in possession of stolen merchandise. Which brings me to the questions: Does Dylan know about this? Does he know anything about the breaking and entering and thefts going on? Is he a member of the gang?”

“A lot of good questions.” He closed his eyes, picturing Alonso's thin, but well-muscled frame. He shook his head. “I can't remember my brother having a tattoo, but I haven't seen him without his shirt, either. I can't imagine him getting involved in that, but I'll ask Alonso later.”

Catelyn shot him a look that said she thought he had his rose-tinted glasses back on. Thankfully, she kept her opinion to herself. He'd have to prove Dylan's innocence one way or another. And if the kid was guilty…

“Did Dylan ever say why Tracy was so adamant about Kelly breaking up with him?”

Joseph shook his head. “Nothing specific. Just that her brother wanted to go out with Kelly and she kept turning him down because she was Dylan's girlfriend.”

“What's Tracy's brother's name again?”

“Zachary.”

“So, we need to talk to Zachary about this gang that his sister was a part of.”

“Looks like. And my bet is that if she was a part of it, so is he.”

“He's not deaf. He's hearing and goes to Esterman High.” She pushed back from her desk and wisps of blond hair tickled his chin sending shards of longing to clench his gut. Somehow, some way, they were going to have to work things out because she had already burrowed her way under in skin in less than twenty-four hours. Just the thought of telling her goodbye again was painful enough to know that having to go through the real thing again would probably rip his heart to shreds.

Pushing aside his personal agenda, he said, “I suppose we should give the family a call and let them know we want to talk to Zachary. I'm guessing he's probably not back at school yet so soon after Tracy's death.”

Catelyn got on the phone and made the call. Joseph got up to stretch a minute and say something to one of the other detectives he'd worked with a few years back.

When she hung up, Catelyn turned to him and frowned. “He's not there.”

“So, where is he?”

“His mother didn't know. She said he got a text after lunch and said he was going to meet up with a friend. She hasn't heard from him since.”

“When's Tracy's funeral?”

“Tomorrow. Visitation is this afternoon.”

“I've got a feeling we need to see if he shows up to the visitation.”

“And who he shows up with.”

 

Catelyn scanned the sea of faces heading in to pay respects to the family. Mostly teenagers, teachers, probably some
church members. The line to greet the family and offer sympathy extended well down the hall to snake around to the entrance to the funeral home. The front door stood open and Joseph waited off to the side, dressed in a suit and tie.

She nearly stumbled in her uncomfortable medium-height heels. She'd never had a problem walking in them before so she couldn't blame her sudden clumsiness on the shoes.

No, it was Joseph. What was she going to do about him? He exuded strength, authority, and was completely at ease in his six-foot-two-inch frame. At five feet eight she didn't consider herself a short woman, but next to him, she always felt petite, feminine. Something that didn't happen very often around other men. And Joseph was definitely the only man who'd ever made her palms sweat. She rubbed them on her black skirt and tried to paste a serene expression on her face.

His smile greeted her with a warmth that nearly caused the upward tilt of her lips to take a downward turn. So much for serenity.

Have a little backbone, Catelyn. And, Lord, if You'd help me control my wayward emotions here, I'd really appreciate it.

He held the door open and she slipped in, nearly jumping out of her skin when his hand dropped to the small of her back. He's only being a gentleman, she told herself. Relax.

Easier said than done. From the back of the line, they waited, watching.

A few more people trickled in, and the line in front of them moved slowly, but consistently. Catelyn kept her eyes peeled. “See him?”

“No, but he's probably with the family in the receiving room. I can't get a good view yet. A few more inches and I'll be able to see if he's in there.”

Catelyn lost her balance and stumbled into the person in front of her. Joseph caught her arm before she could do much
damage. The woman turned to see who'd knocked against her and Catelyn felt her face flush. “I'm so sorry. I don't wear heels often and…” She trailed off when the woman laughed and waved a hand as though brushing the incident aside.

“Don't worry about it. Happens to the best of us.” A frown pinched her brows. “It's a shame, isn't it?”

“I'm sorry?”

The young woman who looked to be in her early forties stood there holding the hand of a child about six years old. She had a brace on her other hand. “Just a shame. Tracy used to babysit for us on a regular basis.”

“Oh, so you knew her well?”

“Absolutely. A great kid. Well, a great kid with a lot of faults, but I liked her. Oh, I'm sorry.” She held out a hand that Joseph and Catelyn took turns shaking. “I'm Stacy Dillard. My husband, Alan Dillard, is the baseball coach at Esterman High School.” She placed a loving hand on the child's head.

“This is Alan Jr.”

“I'm six,” the little guy piped in. “My mom hurt her hand.”

Catelyn smiled at him and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you Alan Jr.”

Stacy gave a self-conscious laugh and held up her hand. “Carpal tunnel. Anyway, I wasn't sure if I should bring him or not, but my mother couldn't babysit today and I didn't want to miss…” Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them back. Taking a deep breath, she blew it out. “Tracy's brother, Zachary, is our catcher.”

Joseph spoke up. “Then you know Dylan Carlisle.”

The woman's green eyes brightened, the tears fading. “Oh, sure, he used to hang around Zachary quite a lot. We have the team over for cookouts and such about once a month.” Her brows drew together in a slight frown. “I haven't seen much of Dylan lately, though. How's he doing? Is he here?”

“He's upset about Tracy, of course, but other than that, he seems to be doing all right. And no, he's not here.”

“I know you consider him a suspect, don't you?” When neither Catelyn nor Joseph responded, she frowned. “Alan said you did. Dylan told him about being questioned by the police.” She let out a sigh. “I can't see Dylan as having anything to do with Tracy's death. If the police need a suspect, they need to be looking at Zachary, if you ask me.” She herded the child in front of her toward the door. “Well, I was waiting for Alan. He told me he'd meet me in the line, but he's probably talking to someone and got held up. I guess I'd better see if I can find him. It's good to meet you.”

She started to hurry off, but stopped when Catelyn laid a restraining hand on her arm. “Wait a minute. Why do you say that? About Zachary, I mean.”

The woman shrugged. “He and Tracy fought constantly. I even saw him shove her into the fence one day after a game. I don't know what she said to him, but he didn't like it. Tracy and Dylan argued some, too, but Dylan never put his hands on her like Zachary did. I don't have anything other than just my feelings when I say Zachary should be a suspect.” She sighed. “And I probably shouldn't have even said anything. Excuse me.” This time Catelyn didn't stop her as she hurried off.

Catelyn looked at Joseph. “So Zachary plays on the baseball team and has a temper. And Dylan is known to hang out with him. Teammates and friends?”

“No crime in that. She also said she hadn't seen Dylan in a while.” He thought for a moment. “Maybe the boys are former friends. I'll have to ask Alonso and see what he says. Maybe it's as simple as Dylan and Zachary had a falling out and he was avoiding being around him. That would explain why she hadn't seen Dylan around—because he was doing his best to stay out of trouble.”

“Maybe.”

“I still want to know if Zachary's a part of this gang. And who he was with earlier while his family was at home grieving.”

“As soon as we can get to him, we'll find out.”

She spotted Stacy Dillard coming back her way. The poor thing looked harried. “I guess I'll just wait here. I can't find Alan anywhere.” Still clutching Alan Jr.'s hand, she slipped back into the line in front of Catelyn and Joseph. “Do you mind if I take my spot back?”

“Of course not. Go ahead.”

Stacy did and started talking to the person in front of her.

Catelyn stepped to the side to peer around the shifting line of bodies and into the visitation room. “I think I see him,” she told Joseph. “Standing next to his mother and younger brother.”

“Yep, that's him.”

“Just a little closer. Oh, look, everyone's standing.”

Zachary shook the next person's hand, looking uncomfortable in his black suit and red tie. Tall, with the build of a natural athlete, he shifted, his eyes moving to and fro. He didn't even bother to try and smile to the people offering condolences; in fact, he looked ready to bolt.

Catelyn leaned in a little closer to Joseph. “You got your running shoes on?”

“I was just thinking the same thing. Why would he run, though? We just want to talk to him?”

“Maybe he thinks that
we
think he knows something.”

“Yeah, and he's scared he'll tell us if we catch him.”

“Then let's catch him.”

Two more steps forward. Zachary's eyes raised, caught on Catelyn's, flitted to the man beside her and widened. The fear in his face couldn't be missed, not even with the distance still between them.

Sweat turned his face shiny and he shifted, glanced at his
mother's back, his sister in the now-closed coffin—and the door on the other side of the room.

“He's gonna make a run for it,” Joseph predicted.

“I'm going to cover the other door. You get him from this side.”

“Right.”

Catelyn slipped out of line and headed down the short hall to the door that opened to the hallway around the corner. The open balcony above her now stood empty, occupied only moments before by friends and family who were now greeting the bereaved. If Zachary made it outside to his car, she'd lose him. Or he would have plenty of hiding places in the cemetery with the huge markers.

Rounding the corner, she was just in time to see a figure dart from the visitation room and head in the opposite direction.

“Zachary, stop! We just want to talk!”

The teen looked back once and kept going, picking up the pace to a fast jog.

Joseph came out of the room. He must have cut through in pursuit. No one else followed, so it must have been done discreetly.

“That way,” she pointed.