Faceless (6 page)

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Authors: Dawn Kopman Whidden

Tags: #Mystery & Crime

BOOK: Faceless
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“I’m sorry, Jean, I thought you knew. I thought someone told you. I thought Joe would have told you.” She pushed a few papers out of the way and sat her large frame on the boss’s desk.

 

“What?” I was bracing myself for more bad news.

 

“Joe called up the chief yesterday and told him he needed some time off. He was on his way the VA hospital in West Palm Beach. His daughter tried to take her own life yesterday, but they stopped it just in time. I guess the injuries she sustained in Afghanistan and the PTSD just became too overwhelming. I’m sorry, Jean… I know how close you all are.”

 

Now it was my time to sit down. Kathy’s foot was resting on the arm of one of the chairs that was in front of the chief’s desk. She pushed it toward me with her shoe, rolling it close enough for me to grab. I pulled it toward me and sat down. The cheap vinyl seat let out a whoosh as I landed.

 

I couldn’t understand why Joe didn’t confide in me. It hurt to realize that Kathy knew all of this, and I didn’t. He was my partner… my best friend… or at least, that is what we once were to each other. Next to Glenn, there was no one I trusted in this world more.

 

I just didn’t know anymore. I didn’t know whether to be angry or feel compassion for the man. Yes, his world was torn apart and turned upside down, but didn’t he realize that mine was, too. Yes, he lost Connie, his wife of twenty-five years, yes, his only daughter was terribly injured while serving her country, yes, he lost them both.

 

But I had lost all three of them
, I thought selfishly. I lost him, I lost my best friend to liquor and anger and bitterness.

 

I stood up. I knew I had to get my act together and now concentrate on finding the creep that killed this young girl.

 

“What’s going on with the girls? Did anybody else but Marty interview them?” I asked her, totally changing the subject.

 

“Frank is working with him.” She must have thought the expression on my face pertained to Frank, because she tried to defend him. “Frank’s a good interviewer, Jean.”

 

“Yeah, I know.” I told her, still disturbed by what she told me about Annie. It should have been Joe that told me. Once upon a time, he would have confided in me. I realized she was still talking.

 

“The mayor is here and he’s making some demands. This thing is going to be one hell of a mess, Jean. It had better resolve itself quickly, or heads are going to roll. The reporters have shown up already. I think I convinced them to head over to the school—let the chief deal with them.”

 

“Good idea,” I replied. “I don’t need them here right now, we have enough to deal with. I’m going to see what’s doing upstairs. Maybe Marty got some answers.”

 

She gave me a sympathetic look and put her hand on my back as she followed me out the door.

 

“Joe will come around, Jean. Give him some time. Connie was his world, and Annie is his universe. He’ll come around.”

 

She was trying to convince me, but I knew she really was as worried about Joe as I was .We both knew that he was in a world of pain and his behavior and drinking were spiraling out of control.

 

I didn’t say anything else, because there was nothing more to say. I headed up the stairs to the turmoil that awaited me next. As I climbed the stairs, each step seemed to have swollen to twice its normal size. I was physically and emotionally drained.

 

I used to love this job. I used to take situations like this in stride. Cases like this would get my adrenaline churning resulting in a burst of energy. A murder like this should have incited my anger and made me anxious to solve the case and put away some crazy freak for the rest of his or her natural life.

 

But I wasn’t feeling angry or anxious. I was feeling downright depressed, and I was lacking my usual confidence. I knew I needed to shake it off, so before I got all the way up the stairs I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth and said a few expletives under my breath. Joe would have told me to chill out… but Joe wasn’t here.

 

 

 

Chapter Five

 

Marty

 

Marty heard the mayor before he saw him.

 

The man’s voice trumpeted through the hallway like a bull elephant’s cry in the jungle. Turning from Frank, who gave him a look of despair, he caught sight of His Honor making his way up the stairwell, pushing one of the uniformed officers to the side. Behind him was the first lady of Fallsburg, looking mortified.

 

“Don’t give me this crap, officer, I demand to see my stepdaughter!”

 

“Mr. Mayor, please…” The officer tried to block his way, but the husky politician was having no part of it.

 

“Get out of my way, kid, before I have your job!” he hollered, spraying spittle in the officer’s face.

 

Marty stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the bad comb job the mayor used to hide his balding and lumpy scalp. He figured that this was as good a time as any to come to the officer’s rescue.

 

“That’s not necessary, mayor. Marty called out, trying to be as diplomatic as possible.

 

The mayor, who was as wide as he was tall, had a tendency to try and throw his weight around. Marty knew that Paul Knox was more hot air than substance, and he knew that the mayor knew that he knew it.

 

The minute Knox saw Marty at the top of the stairs, his whole attitude changed.

 

“Marty! Good, you’re here. This imbecile won’t let us see my stepdaughter. She needs her mother right now.”

 

Katie
’s mother stood behind him, looking intimidated. Although Marty was well acquainted with Paul Knox, he had never met the mayor’s second wife. The platinum blonde was at least three inches taller than her husband, even though she was wearing flats.

 

Marty nodded to the young officer who had been trying to keep the mayor from gaining access to the interrogation room.

 

“It’s okay, Stiskin, I got this.”

 

Relieved, the young officer made his way back down the stairs, deliberately bumping the husky politician as he passed him on the narrow stairwell, tipping his hat to the mayor’s wife as he descended.

 

The mayor watched intently and waited for the officer to get out of sight before he climbed to the top of the landing in an unsuccessful effort to appear closer to Marty’s eye level.

 

“What the hell happened, Keal, what is this about Katie being a witness to a murder?”

 

He must have recalled at that moment he was with his wife, who appeared frozen a few steps below him, because he suddenly turned his attention to her. He climbed back down a few steps and placed one chubby palm under her elbow, guiding her up the rest of the stairs.

 

“Your stepdaughter is fine, Paul. I was just going to get her a soft drink. Can I get something for either of you? Mrs. Knox?”

 

“No, nothing, thank you. Can I see my daughter?” the blonde asked him.

 

Marty took a good look at the woman. She had the same exotic features that made her daughter so striking and conceded that the woman was probably quite beautiful once herself. But now the mayor’s wife looked tired and worn. He could hear his father’s voice as he recalled one of the old man’s favorite expressions: “Rode hard and put up wet” seemed a fitting way to describe the lady.

 

Marty turned to Frank, who had been standing on the sidelines watching the exchange.

 

“Frank, could you bring a few refreshments up? I’ll bring them to see Katie.”

 

“Yeah, sure, Marty. Mayor, can I get you a soda?”

 

With a smile and a wink, Frank signaled to Marty that the older and more experienced detective wasn’t insulted that Marty was taking the lead in the investigation.

 

Turning back to the mayor and the second Mrs. Knox, Marty motioned for them to follow him.

 

“Tell me what’s going on, Marty.” He once again resorted to acting passive and friendly. Paul Knox, the career politician and occasional attorney, was never without a motive. The mayor calculated that the familiarity would allow Marty to speak more freely.

 

Marty turned and leaned his back against the door of the room where Katie waited.

 

“One of Katie’s friends was murdered last night, Paul; we’re trying to find out what happened.”

 

“Who?” Katie’s mother grabbed her husband’s hand. “What friend?”

 

“A girl named Jamie Camp. Do you know her?” Marty asked looking directly at the blonde woman.

 

She gasped, bringing her hand to cover her mouth. “Oh my God—Jamie? How?”

 

“What does this have to do with Katie, Marty?” The mayor put a protective arm around his wife.

 

“Did either of you know that Katie wasn’t home last night?” He once again directed his question to the girl’s mother.

 

“She said she was spending the night at Tiffany’s. I didn’t think that Katie had anything to do with Jam…” she stopped midsentence and turned to her husband. Marty could see the woman getting exceedingly nervous.

 

“Well, how about we go in and ask Katie what she knows? Maybe she can shed some light on what happened last night.”

 

Marty opened the door and noticed Katie’s relieved expression immediately when she saw her mother. The relieved expression disappeared just as fast when she saw who accompanied her.

 

Getting up, the girl quickly turned her attention back toward her mother and fell into the older woman’s arms. Marty, watching the scene unfold, noticed that although Katie seemed to find comfort in her mother’s embrace, her eyes seemed to be riveted on her mother’s husband.

 

Mrs.
Knox
took her daughter’s face in her hands and pushed some stray hairs away that had fallen over the girl’s right eye. Suddenly Katie’s dry eyes began filling up with moisture, and fresh tears began to fall. Her mother wiped them away, gently kissing her daughter’s cheeks.

 

“Oh, my poor baby, what happened, honey?” The older woman asked, taking a seat at the table, as if she was in too much emotional stress to continue standing.

 

Frank
came back into the room at that moment and handed Katie her Diet Coke. The teenager took a seat next to her mother, once again using just the tips of her fingers to move the chair into position.

 

Once she was seated, the mayor found a seat at the head of the table, as if to make sure he was in a position of authority. Behind the mayor’s back, Frank sent Marty a look, rolling his eyes in a way Marty assumed to mean that the other detective had little use for the chubby politician.

 

Marty pulled out a chair opposite Katie. He pulled a small digital recorder out of his pocket and laid it on the center of the table.

 

“Do you mind, Katie, if we record this conversation?” he asked her. “It may help you remember later some of the things you say here. Sometimes when we experience a trauma, our mind will block things out or things get foggy.”

 

The mayor turned his attention to Marty. His jowls jiggled like a bowl of Jell-O.

 

“Is this necessary, Marty? It’s obvious that Katie has been through some trauma. Why don’t you and I discuss this outside?” He started to get up from his seat when Marty motioned for him to sit.

 

“Yes, Paul, I’m afraid it is necessary. A young girl is lying in the morgue, and Katie may be able to help us find out why.”

 

Marty turned his attention back to Katie. The tone of his voice softened when he spoke.

 

“Katie, can you tell me exactly what happened? What were you girls doing up in the woods in the middle of the night?”

 

“We just wanted to hang out.” Her voice was hardly audible across the table.

 

“Katie, can you speak up a little bit? I didn’t hear you.” Marty gave her a soft smile, trying to make her feel a little less anxious.

 

“We just went to hang out. We thought it would be fun… sneaking out.” She spoke a little louder, a bit more self-assured.

 

“Did you all go up there together? All four of you?”

 

Katie
nodded.

 

“Can you speak up, Katie?” Marty reminded her of the recording by glancing at the small electronic device.

 

“Yes,” she answered this time slightly leaning toward the machine.

 

“How did you get there, Katie?” he questioned her. “It’s too far to walk.”

 

She hesitated, as if she needed time to formulate an answer.

 

“We hitchhiked.” Realizing that she was still speaking softly she repeated herself, this time a little bit louder. “We hitchhiked.”

 

Realizing that this might be an important piece of information and might even lead to a suspect, Marty leaned closer, making an effort to make her feel like he could be trusted. He took great care, though, not to get too close. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by getting into her personal space.

 

“Who picked you up, Katie? Was it someone you know?” Marty glanced over at Frank. From the other detective’s expression, he also appeared to be thinking along the same lines.

 

Quickly, maybe too quickly, Katie answered him.

 

“No.”

 

“No what?” Marty asked.

 

“No, I didn’t know who it was. It was just a stranger,” she elaborated.

 

Disappointed by the girl’s answer, Marty leaned his chair back, its front legs lifted off the floor. His fingers tapped nervously in frustration on the arm of the chair.

 

“Are you sure, Katie?”

 

She nodded her head. “Yes,” she said out loud, remembering the recorder.

 

Marty quickly turned around and grabbed a pen and pad sitting on the cabinet behind him.

 

“Can you describe the car?

 

“No. I don’t remember,” she answered, leaning back in her chair, closing her eyes.

 

“What color was it?” he asked her.

 

“I don’t know, it was dark.”

 

“Can you describe the driver?” Marty asked, trying not to let her hear the anger in his tone.

 

“No. I want to go home. Mom, I want to go home, please.” Turning to her mother, her voice took on noticeable desperation.

 

Fearing that the girl was going to clam up, Marty tried another angle. Taking on a more sympathetic attitude, he turned off the recorder, and placed the pen down.

 

“Katie, this is really important. We need to find the person responsible for doing this to your friend. We need to stop this person, make sure no one else gets hurt.”

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