Betrayal with Murder (A Rilynne Evans Mystery, Book Three) (10 page)

“Well, it wasn’t inaccurate,” he said defensively. “The fiber had actually come from my car.”

“True,” she said as she ducked under a low hanging branch that reached across the sidewalk. “And it wasn’t your fault you were being framed. It actually sounds like it’ll make a good teaching experience. Like you said, forensics don’t lie.”

“You should come,” he responded. “You can watch me do what I do.”

“I can also sit back and watch all of your groupies fawning over you.” She glanced over and saw his ears turn crimson.

“I don’t have groupies,” he said.

She couldn’t keep herself from laughing. “I’ve met two in the last four months, and those are just the ones I’ve crossed paths with.”

He looked confused. “I know you said your old chief follows my lectures,” he stated. “Who’s the other one?”

“Your intern, Scarlett,” she replied without looking over at him. “She told me the first day we met that she had seen you speak, and it was one of the reasons she took the job in Addison Valley. I think that was the first time I realized you were so worshiped in the forensic world.”

“Eh.” Ben shook that statement off in his familiar, humble way. He may be one of the best in his field, but he certainly didn’t have the ego that usually went along with it. “When people want to be good at their choice career, they want to learn from the top people.”

“Yeah, well I think I will go next week,” she said. She looked over as she did and saw a grin sneaking across his face.

“So, I was wondering something,” Ben asked as they walked down the quiet streets. “Plastic surgery isn’t cheap. Do you really think that Mifflin would have been able to afford it? It’s not like he could bill his insurance for it.”

Rilynne hadn’t considered the expense behind it. Her face twisted in contemplation. “Well,” she said several moments later, “he did leave with a decent amount of cash. If he were truly concerned with being recognized, which I imagine he was, he would have spent all he could on the procedure. I wouldn’t put it past him to spend every dime he had if it meant being able to evade arrest.”

“That’s kind of risky, isn’t it?” he asked. He led her to a bench just outside the gazebo. “I mean, if he spent all of his money on plastic surgery, wouldn’t he be at a higher risk of being detected? He would have to get a job just to support himself. I’m assuming he forged a new identity, but they can fall apart fairly easily.”

The sun warmed her face as she sat down on the cool bench.

“I honestly hadn’t given it much thought,” she said as he sat down next to her. “Who knows how much money he had on him, though. If he was willing to kill, there’s no telling what else he could have been doing while on the force. I’ve heard of dirty cops that put away millions before being caught. For all we know, he could have left with enough money to buy his own private island.”

“Now that would be the life,” Ben joked. “Maybe I’ll look into getting one of those someday. I wouldn’t mind living away from it all for a while.”

Rilynne grinned and said, “I imagine you’d get pretty lonely out there all by yourself. I would give you two days before you start trying to solve some sort of mystery. You’d be using forensics to try and find out which sea turtle ate your supply of vegetables.”

Ben laughed and shook his head. “You could always stop by to keep me company. I would no doubt need help interrogating those sea turtles.”

Rilynne rolled her eyes and leaned back on the bench, letting the sun stretch over her. Before closing her eyes, she glanced over at Ben to find a grin covering his face.

*

“I honestly didn’t expect for this little town to have a bowling alley,” Rilynne said as they walked into the low-lit room. There was a small counter against the wall and six lanes set up under two large disco balls.

“There isn’t much to do for fun in small towns,” Ben replied. “Besides, everyone loves bowling.”

After grabbing their shoes, they took the last available lane.

“It’s been a while since I’ve bowled,” Rilynne said, pulling her shoes off. “And I’ve never been somewhere that you had to manually keep score.”

“There’s a small alley in Addison Valley that still does it like this,” Ben stated as he pulled a dark blue ball off of the rack. “They have dollar game nights on Wednesdays. We’ll have to go sometime.”

“It’s a date,” she said playfully. “I’m going to go grab a pitcher of beer, then prepare to get your butt kicked.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

She glanced over as she walked away and caught him watching her leave. When their eyes met, he quickly looked away, his ears reaching that unmistakable shade red. She felt her insides give a sudden jump as she turned back around. As hard as she tried, she was unable to keep the smile off of her face as she made her way back to the counter.

“Ladies first,” he said when she returned a few minutes later and placed a foaming pitcher on the table with two chilled glasses.

She picked up the bright orange ball and rolled it down the lane, turning back toward Ben the moment it left her fingers.

“You aren’t even going to watch?” Ben looked up at her curiously. He peered around her and nodded gently as the crack echoed through the room. “Not bad, but can you pick up those last two for the spare?”

“Just watch me.” She took a sip of her beer and reached down again for her ball, rolling it toward the last remaining pins.

“
G
ood morning, Detective, Mr. Davis,” Byman said as they stepped into his office.

“Were you able to find anything?” Rilynne got straight to the point.

He shook his head and folded his arms, leaning so far back in his chair that Rilynne was sure it would topple over. “I had the dogs cover all of the area surrounding the locations with the plant, but they didn’t turn up anything. It could be that he buried your girl further out and just crossed through a patch on his way back to the road, but without a location to search, there isn’t much I can do.”

Rilynne nodded, knowing he was right. There were hundreds of acres surrounding the three locations the plants could be found. If Melissa Roberts was buried out there, chances were they wouldn’t be able to find her without Mifflin’s help.

“Now, I called the clinic and set up an appointment for us to meet with them at four. In the mean time, we can start working our way around the bars. One of them is open now, and one will be open in about two hours. The other two don’t open until three, but that leaves us with enough time to stop for some lunch,” he said as he stood and reached for his coat.

She was impressed with how much thought he seemed to have put into their day.

They took Detective Byman’s jeep, Ben insisting on taking the back seat so Rilynne could sit up front. The first bar they came to reminded Rilynne of one she used to go to while in college. Attached to the side of the building was a large covered patio with several pool tables set up and a bar that appeared to have been out of use for some time.

Despite being just after nine, there were already several people seated at the bar with drinks in their hands. The bartender, a man no more than a few years older than herself, had dark hair that reached the middle of his back, which he had tied neatly back.

“Hey, J.J., this is my cousin Amy and her husband Ben,” Byman said as he leaned against the bar. Though taken aback by the story Detective Byman was telling, Rilynne was grateful. She glanced over at Ben to see if he looked as shocked as she felt, but found only a look of pure delight on his face. “We have a little bit of a sensitive situation that I was hoping you could help us with.”

“Sure, Korey. Let me get these out and I’ll be right with you.” He sat the beers in his hand down in front of the couple at the end of the bar before walking around and joining them at the table in the corner.

“Ben’s brother ran into a bit of trouble a little while back, and has been on the run. Now, if we can get him to turn himself in, it’ll really help him out. The problem is, if he knew we were looking for him, he would just run again. I was hoping we could get a little discretion.”

“Of course,” J.J. said with a gentle, understanding nod. “I have a brother of my own who’s always been a bit of trouble. Do you have a picture or the name he would be going by?”

“We don’t know what name he’s using, but we do have a picture,” Rilynne said as she slid it across the table. “He left home a little over a year and a half ago, and we were hoping he might have come out here. He always admired the pictures we had from our trips up here to see Korey, and thought he might try to see it himself.”

“He’s always been a bit of a drinker, his favorite being whiskey,” Ben added surprisingly confident with his story, as improvised as it was.

“I’m afraid I don’t recognize him,” J.J. replied as he studied the photograph carefully. “If I do see him come in, though, I’ll call you immediately.”

“Thanks for your help, J.J.,” Byman said as he extended his hand.

To her disappointment, the other three bars went about the same.

“Well, if he wanted to remain hidden, he might have avoided the bars on purpose. After all, bartenders are like therapists. When you’ve had enough to drink, you could end up telling them anything,” Ben stated as they climbed back into the jeep. “He could have easily just visited a liquor store if he needed a drink and avoided the risk.”

“Well, hopefully the doctors will have something for us,” Rilynne stated.

The office looked more like a small hospital than a clinic. The waiting room, though small, looked like every emergency room she had ever walked into, down to the white tiled floors. To her right, there was a large electric door that appeared to require a badge to open. Just behind the admissions desk, she could see a hallway with six doors, half with charts on them.

“Hello, Rosie,” Byman said as he walked up to the woman sitting behind the admissions desk. “We have an appointment to talk to Dr. Raab.”

“She’s just finishing up with a patient,” she replied. “You can wait in her office.” Rosie pointed to a closed door at the opposite side of the empty waiting room. She pushed her chair away from the desk and led them to the door, unlocking it and holding it open. “She’ll be with you shortly.”

Detective Byman leaned against the wall while Ben and Rilynne sat in the chairs across from the desk.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” a tall blonde woman said as she walked in a few minutes later. “There has been a nasty stomach bug working its way through town. Good to see you, Korey. Ted was just saying that we should have you and Leann over for dinner.”

“That sounds great, Tricia. Leann has been looking for a reason to make her famous pasta salad,” he replied. “How’s your sister enjoying Florida?”

“She’s making me a little jealous with all her talk about warm weather,” she chuckled. “I think she’s spent nearly everyday since she moved going down to the beach, even during the winter. Personally, I think it’s a little crazy, but to each his own. So, what is it that I can help you with?”

“This is Detective Rilynne Evans and forensic specialist Ben Davis. They came to our little town searching for a fugitive. We were hoping you might be able to assist us,” he explained.

“This man,” Rilynne pulled a small stack of pictures out of the folder on her lap, “is believed to have been in the area nineteen months ago. Because the case he was involved in was nationally publicized, he may have sought the assistance of a plastic surgeon to hide the scar on his face.”

Dr. Raab reached for the glasses on her desk as Rilynne slid the pictures toward her. After putting them on, she picked up the photos and examined them carefully.

“No, he’s never been in for a consult or had any work done here,” she replied a few moments later. “We’ve dealt with quite a few facial scars, but the majority are on women or children. I also don’t recall him ever coming in for any other treatments.”

“What about the other doctor in the office?” Ben asked.

“Dr. Cahill and I always work together on surgical consults, as well as any new patients in the office. I’ll double check with him, but I’m confident that he’s never been in our clinic.”

“Well thank you very much for your time, Tricia. If you think of anything else, please give me a call,” Byman said as Rilynne and Ben rose from their seats.

“Of course. A pleasure to meet you both,” she said as she extended her hand.

Rilynne felt nothing but disappointment when they walked back to the car. While the men entered into a conversation about the up coming baseball season, Rilynne sat back in her seat and searched her mind for the next place to look.

She was so lost in thought she didn’t realize they were back at the station until Ben opened her door.

“Are you going to just sit in there?” he asked with an amused grin. She rolled her eyes and climbed out.

She followed Byman back through the station to his office. After grabbing coffee, they sat around his desk.

“All right,” Byman said. “Where do we go next?” If he felt the same hopelessness Rilynne was suddenly feeling, he wasn’t showing it.

They sat in silence around the desk, each searching their minds for an idea. Occasionally, one would make a sound like they had something to say, but it never progressed past that point. The silence was only interrupted when Ben’s phone rang ten minutes later.

“It’s Summers,” he said to Rilynne as he answered.

“Daniel Summers is another member of our forensic team,” she told Byman. “He’s looking over all of the blood evidence for Ben. He can read blood better than anyone I’ve seen.”

“Hold on,” Ben said loudly, silencing Rilynne. “I’m going to put you on speaker. I’m here with Detective Evans and Detective Korey Byman. This sounds like something they should both hear.”

“Hello all,” Daniel Summers’ voice sounded out across the line. “I compared the spatter to every known weapon in my database, and then used the specs of the cut in the shirt to try and identify any other one it could have been. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to find anything. I then called the coroner and confirmed that there were no visible signs of injury on the bones. If someone were stabbed once, it would be impossible to have that amount of cast off from the weapon. A wound in that area would have bled profusely, though.

“It’s my professional opinion that the victim-sorry Detective Evans-that Christopher Parker was stabbed and his blood was collected from the wound and purposely sprayed across the room to make the scene, for lack of a better word, horrific.”

“When you say ‘sprayed’, how…” she paused, gathering her composure before she could continue. “Do you know how he did it?”

Summers hesitated himself, giving Rilynne the strong feeling that he was trying to consider the best way to tell her.

“It’s all right,” she said firmly. “I just need to know.”

“The closest match that I could find was a child’s water gun.”

Rilynne fought off the urge to be sick as his words floated out of the phone. As the wave passed, it was quickly replaced by an incredible fury.

“So what it looks like, is he collected Christopher’s blood as it drained out, put it in a water gun, and proceeded to spray it on the walls?” She was hoping he would say it was a preposterous theory and must have been something else, but she knew the chances of that were non-existent.

“It appears he bled out on the bed but the blood on the headboard and walls was added manually,” he said in a tone that was more soothing than Rilynne had ever heard. “I spoke with Chief Wooldridge and he’s sending all of the pictures from the first scene to me. I’m going to look over them and see if the same signs are present.”

“Why would he do such a thing?” Byman asked, sounding as though he were going to be sick himself.

“If the first scene was also staged, he would have wanted to cause as much emotional reaction and distraction as possible. If there were a single pool of blood, what happened would have been relatively straightforward,” she rattled off. “By staging the scene, it would have caused confusion and hindered a quick analysis. With this level of staging, though, along with the fact that he used my father’s knife to stab me instead of any other one in the kitchen, and his insistence on going to the hospital and telling me himself that Chris was gone, I would have to say that he’s a sociopath. Only someone who enjoyed watching people suffer could even consider doing something like that.”