Reclaim My Life (8 page)

“It doesn’t hurt to be prepared, I guess.”

“We
have
to be prepared. Even if a storm misses us, it can cause power outages that affect us in a number of ways. Evacuations from the coast create traffic gridlocks.” He met her gaze over his coffee cup. “Now
your
eyes are glazing over.”

“Are not.” She tossed back his words from Wednesday’s interview with a smug grin.

“I’m hoping the disaster preparedness meeting is a waste of time, darlin’.”

“But you’d advise me to follow that emergency checklist that comes in the weekly paper, right?”

Lorraine returned with a plate of French toast topped with warm syrup. “Bingo, sweetie. Don’t wait until the last minute to try to stock up on drinking water and batteries in this town.” She served the plate to Elizabeth, teasing him with the aroma of hot cinnamon and melting butter.

“Is it too late to change my order to French toast?”

Lorraine crossed her arms. “Yes, it is. You want me to bring you a side order, though?”

He laughed. “Better not. I’ll just sit here and drool over the professor’s.”

Elizabeth pushed her plate toward him. “Want a taste?”

The offer took him by surprise, but he quickly recovered. “Sure.”

Unwrapping his utensils from the paper napkin, he forked off a corner of French toast and slid it into his mouth, savoring the intimacy of the act as much as the rich flavor. Maybe it wasn’t much, but he felt as if he’d made progress—a baby step—in his pursuit of Elizabeth Stevens. At least he was in the dugout.

“Well?” She gazed at him with eyes as dark and liquid as the warm maple syrup. “Isn’t it absolutely the best?”

“Absolutely.” But Wil was talking about more than the French toast. “Thanks.”

“Here you go, Wil.” Lorraine served him his breakfast then nodded toward Elizabeth’s plate. “Boyd uses real French bread, sweetie. None of that sissy sandwich bread—no, sirree. And the syrup is real, too, from maples in Vermont.”

“Tell Boyd it’s wonderful.” Elizabeth pulled back her plate and dug in.

Wil ate his eggs quickly, sopping up the yolks with his toast. Chewing on a slice of crisp bacon, he remembered what he’d wanted to ask her. “I had another question for you.”

“Sure, what about?”

He lowered his voice. “Do you know if Cathleen Hodges went out with the chief of police, Adam Gillespie?”

She squinted her eyes in a thoughtful frown. “The guy who looks like Keanu Reeves?”

Keanu Reeves? Wil struggled to place the name. “I assume he’s a celebrity?” Expecting her to roll her eyes at his ignorance, he was surprised when she apologized instead.

“That’s a habit of mine—relating everything to movies. I forget most people have a life away from the DVD player.”

“Most people don’t know much about Shakespeare, and you’re an expert.” He didn’t know why he said such a thing, but her remark confused him. “Would you have me believe a beautiful, intelligent woman like you spends all her spare time watching DVDs?”

“Escapism.” She sipped from her cup of tea. “To answer your question, I’m sure Cathleen never dated Chief Gillespie or anyone else in town. I’m almost positive. But Kris did. She’s the one who refers to the guy as a Keanu Reeves look-alike.”

“Kris Knight?” Could his dad have been mistaken when he’d thought he’d seen Gillespie with Cathleen? He’d seen the pair in a rowboat, from a distance of about two hundred yards. Both Cathleen and Kris had long, brown hair and were of a similar stature and age.

“Yeah, Kris went out with Gillespie a couple times but said it didn’t work out. You’d have to ask her why.”

“No need.” He
would
ask, but he wouldn’t say so to Elizabeth. The last thing he needed was for a rumor to get back to Gillespie that Wil was looking at him as a person of interest in the homicide.

Elizabeth leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Well, she’ll be at my place tonight, if you want to question her. We’re having pizza and beer. Want to join us?”

Again, she’d blindsided him with the unexpected. An invitation to her house? He wasn’t about to question the thaw in her attitude, whatever the reason. After weeks of one-sided flirting, he was finally getting a break. Not that she’d asked him for a date—they wouldn’t be alone, after all—but could he afford to pass up the opportunity? “I just might do that. In fact, why don’t you let me bring the pizzas?”

“Sure, that’d be great.” Now it seemed her turn to be surprised. “Vinnie’s has a special on three mediums.”

Since Vicente Vega owned the only pizza parlor in Drake Springs, they didn’t have to decide anything but toppings. “Vinnie’s actually Mexican, you know, and his Mexican pizza is the best. Have you tried it yet?”

“No, but I’m game. Kris is usually agreeable about food.”

They settled on a time, and he took down Elizabeth’s address—not that he needed it. He’d patrolled her street more than once, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Since she’d probably consider that stalking, he wouldn’t admit his adolescent behavior, especially now that he’d made a bit of progress with her. He left the diner with an optimism at odds with the workday that stretched ahead.

In the baseball game metaphor of his love life, he’d finally picked up the bat.

Wil met Jamie Peterson at Hodges Animal Clinic on Main Street, where Cathleen Hodges had established her veterinary practice. Although Jamie was his least experienced deputy, she was also his most conscientious and meticulous employee—with the possible exception of Zelda Brooks, his secretary. Jamie had the makings of a detective and would probably leave the small county sheriff’s department after a few years’ experience, not that he blamed her. Hadn’t he pursued a career away from Drake Springs? She could draw a higher salary in a city the size of Jacksonville, or even a small city like Ocala or Gainesville.

He held the keys he’d picked up from Otis Gibbons, the realtor in charge of managing the property. “Nobody’s been in here since the murder, right?”

“Wrong. Before Brady got over here, the doc’s assistant had opened the office, just as she had the day the doc went missing. She said she had a couple of animals in the kennels that needed attention.”

“Are they still here?”

“No, she delivered them to their owners since Brady told her not to allow anyone inside.”

“Good.” He unlocked and opened the door. The odors of antiseptic and wet animal fur greeted him.

“What are we looking for?” Jamie whispered the question as if the killer lurked in the next room.

Flipping the light switch, Wil turned on the row of fluorescent fixtures overhead. “Her appointment calendar, her diploma, anything that gives us information about family or people she’d been in contact with.”

Hodges Animal Clinic occupied a converted shotgun-style house, with the former living room serving as the reception area. Part of the interior wall had been cut to desk-level and had a large metal desk and file cabinet shoved against it in the next room. The floor shone as if from a recent mopping. Sturdy metal and wood benches offered seating for pet owners, and ceramic bowls in the corners held water for the patients.

“Brady notified her parents yesterday.” Jamie’s voice returned to its normal volume. “He got their names from the landlord.”

“Yes, I know.” Wil had delegated that unpleasant task to Deputy Newcomb. “They live in Arkansas, right?”

“Yes, in Magnolia.” She followed Wil into the office area, where a desktop computer filled the desk corner. “Brady and I found their number on the internet after we got the names. See, Doc Hodges’s father died and her mom remarried, so the last name was different. Mr. Gibbons said when Hodges signed the lease, she’d insisted that her personal information be kept confidential, almost like she was hiding.”

“Abusive ex-boyfriend—from what I found out from her friends.”

Jamie brightened. “Did they have a name for this ex?”

“No, but that’s one item we’re looking for.”

“Does Brady know about the abusive ex?”

“He didn’t when he called her parents.” Wil snapped his fingers. “Good thinking. I’ll have him talk to her mother and see if she can give us a list of names of old boyfriends.”

“What about searching her home?”

“She lived in the double-wide in back, right?”

“Technically, it’s around the corner on Ortega Avenue.” Jamie referred to the cross street beside Hodges Animal Clinic.

“I have those keys, too. Why don’t I leave you here while I comb through her house?”

“Sure, boss.” She bent beneath the desk to turn on the power strip. “This looks like a good place to start.”

“Good thinking. You know your way around computers, and that’s as likely a place as any for her to store calendars and addresses.”

The monitor came to life and the hard drive whirred. “What time’s your meeting with FDLE?”

“Not until this afternoon, so take your time and be thorough.” Wil didn’t miss the disappointment in her eyes. He slapped his forehead. “God, Jamie. You’re the last person I should remind to be thorough.”

She broke into a smile. “Thorough is my middle name.”

Leaving her to sift through the victim’s computer files, he made a pass through the rest of the building. The former bedroom was an examining room, judging from the tall stainless steel table in the center and the pet scales in the corner. The kitchen still looked like a kitchen but probably doubled as the surgery room, since two tall cylinders of some kind of gas, surgical tools, and a locked cabinet filled with medicine crowded the sink and refrigerator. The utility room held nothing but six empty kennels.

He let himself out the back door, through the side gate of the fenced dog run—careful of where he stepped—and into the back door of Cathleen Hodges’s house. Turning on the light, he found himself standing in the kitchen. A quick walk-through revealed a typical three-bedroom, two-bath double-wide mobile home. One bedroom, about the size of Elizabeth’s windowless office, was unfurnished, obviously used for storage. A small sleeper sofa and desk filled another bedroom that wasn’t much larger.

Atop her bed in the master bedroom lay a laptop computer. A telephone line ran from it to the telephone jack. E-mails could hold a clue. He unplugged the laptop and tucked it under his arm. He’d have Jamie examine it later. After searching every drawer and table, he turned up little in the way of mail. He stuffed the envelopes in an evidence bag. The usage details in her wireless bill could be useful.

He finished his search, finding no address books, no high school annuals, nothing much in the way of mementos, except for an abundance of photos. Pictures were stuck everywhere. Just nothing that seemed helpful. Nonetheless, he collected any that pictured other people with her. He’d need to identify everyone in the photographs.

Locking up the house, he stepped outside into the harsh glare of sunlight. Back at his Jeep, he stuffed his collection of materials into his homicide case folder. After his meetings, he’d sift through, looking for any clue that might lead to the killer’s identity. He returned to Hodges Animal Clinic to see what Jamie had uncovered with the computer.

Friday afternoon, Elizabeth stopped for a twelve-pack of Budweiser and a six-pack of Coke at Miller’s IGA Market, where she ran into Kris Knight at the checkout. “Hey, girl.”

Kris stared at Elizabeth’s purchases. “I thought I was bringing the beer.”

“You are.” Of course, Kris had chosen Bud
Light
. “But we’re having another guest, and I wanted to have plenty. I’m not sure whether he’ll drink beer or soda, so I got both.”

“He?”

“I’ll explain in a minute.” She didn’t need the entire county to know she’d invited the sheriff to her house for pizza. She accepted her change from the curious cashier, then turned to Kris. “See you at my place.”

“I’m right behind you.”

Elizabeth’s house, which she’d been able to buy thanks to WitSec staking her the down payment, was on Park Street, seven blocks from the grocery. What it lacked in style it made up for in low-cost living. Well-insulated, the concrete block structure rested on a cement slab foundation. The house rarely made a sound except when rain pelted its metal roof, a soothing sound she’d missed with the summer’s drought. The shutters, painted green to match the roof, were too wide to be attractive but offered genuine hurricane-strength protection for her large glass windows when closed.