Shadow Dragon (13 page)

CHAPTER 28

When Carrie Daniels stepped into the room, Kyle hardly recognized her as the same girl he had seen in the pictures at the Joneses’ cabin. That girl had appeared youthful and exuberant, with a sparkle in her eyes in spite of what had happened to her parents. But the girl who sat across from him now looked older than her years and weary to the point of collapse. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her skin looked pale and splotchy. Her eyes were red, but more than that, they appeared dull and lifeless. Kyle had seen that look before. It was the same look he had seen on Miss Vera’s face after her son, Roberto, had been killed in a convenience store robbery. Kyle immediately felt sympathy for the girl.

When Lewis introduced him, the look in her eyes was one of near panic, and for a brief moment, Kyle thought she might turn and run. Instead, she tentatively shook their hands and sat down.

“Ms. Daniels,” Kyle began. “First, let me say how deeply sorry we are for your loss and assure you that we are doing everything in our power to ensure that the perpetrators are brought to justice.” He pulled out one of his cards and handed it to her. “My job is to act as a liaison between yourself and our office to make sure that you are kept informed about the ongoing investigation and eventual trial as well as to offer grief counseling and to provide assistance with any other needs you might have during that time.” While Kyle spoke, she kept her head down, looking at the purse clutched tightly in her hands. “I know this is a very difficult time for you, and I want you to know that I’m here to help you through it.”

Carrie nodded and quietly asked, “What happened?”

“We’re not really sure,” Lewis said. “It appears that someone broke in through the front window and killed both of your grandparents.”

“Why would anyone want to do that?”

“We don’t know yet,” Lewis said. “We were hoping you might be able to help us with that. If you don’t mind, we would like to ask you a few questions.”

Carrie cleared her throat, trying to regain control of her tremulous voice. “Okay.”

“Ms. Daniels, do you know of any reason why someone might have wanted to kill your grandparents?” Lewis asked.

“No, they were both incredibly kind, loving people.” While Carrie spoke, she continued to look down at her purse, nervously twisting the thin straps around her fingers. It was painfully reminiscent of the way that her grandfather, Bill, had held his ball cap during his interview.

“Are you aware of any reason why someone might want to take over your grandparents’ lease?”

Carrie sniffled and shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

Lewis nodded. “Just take your time and think. We’re not in any hurry here. Do you know if there were any former business partners or associates who might have had a disagreement with either of your grandparents?”

“No, my grandfather was a ranch hand for years, and my grandmother was a schoolteacher. They didn’t start the fishing-guide company until after I was away at college.”

Lewis made a few notes in his pad and then asked, “Has anyone approached you about your grandparents land?”

“No.”

“Do you know if they had any disagreements with any of the renters who stayed at their cabins?”

“No, at least nothing that they told me about.”

“Did they ever say anything to you about the murders at their other cabin?”

Carrie looked surprised by this. “No, what other murders?”

“Four men from Seattle were killed at your grandparents’ rental cabin in February. They never said anything to you about this?”

“No,” Carrie said. “They never mentioned it.”

“So you spoke to them between that time and now.”

“Yes,” Carrie said and nodded. “I talked to them all the time.”

Lewis paused again, nodding. He was being careful not to push her too hard. “When was the last time you spoke with your grandparents?”

“I … I don’t remember exactly. About a week ago, I guess.”

“And during this time, did they say anything that seemed unusual? Did they seem different? Like they were nervous about something?”

“No, but I’m not really surprised they didn’t say anything. They were both so protective of me, especially my grandmother. I’ve been having a bit of a hard time lately, and I’m sure they just didn’t want to worry me about anything else.”

“What sort of trouble?” Lewis asked.

“I … I’ve been having some trouble with one of my exes. But I don’t see how—”

“Please be patient with us,” Lewis said. “I know it may not seem relevant, but we need to gather all the information we can. Now, specifically, what kind of trouble were you having?”

Carrie bit her bottom lip. “I … it … he had been abusive, and after I broke up with him, he began stalking me,” she finally blurted out. “I went to the police about it, but they said there wasn’t anything they could do about it.”

“Please understand … we have to cover every possibility,” Lewis said. “Did your ex-boyfriend ever make threatening statements against your grandparents?”

Carrie looked stricken by that thought. “He’s made them to
me
, but he never mentioned my grandparents. You don’t think—”

“We don’t know,” Lewis said, trying to keep her calm. “That’s why we’re asking you. Do you think he is capable of something like that?”

“I … I don’t know. I … oh, God, if—” She paused as she struggled to maintain her composure. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to hold back the tears. “Can I see them?” she blurted out.

Lewis frowned. “I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.”

“Why?”

Lewis sighed.

“Ms. Daniels,” Kyle jumped in. He knew Lewis wasn’t the most diplomatic person in situations like this. “This is not going to be easy for you, but I think it’s better that you hear it from us rather than read it in the papers. Your grandparents’ bodies were … dismembered, and we have yet to recover all of their remains.”

Carrie sat in stunned silence for a moment, unmoving, as if time had stopped for her. Then she suddenly burst into tears. She opened her purse and pulled out a crumpled bar napkin with the airline’s logo on it but dropped it. It was as if that one small incident was the last straw. She dropped her purse, sending things spilling out and rolling across the floor. She buried her face in her hands as sobs racked her body.

Instinctively, Kyle stood up and moved toward her to offer support, but she flinched backward and held up her hand as if to ward him off. He stopped and stood there, unsure of what to do.

“Can I
please
go?” she cried.

“Yes,” Lewis said. “Just let us know where you’re staying so we can get in touch with you.”

Kyle helped gather up the contents of her purse. She grabbed the purse and stood quickly, the chair scraping across the floor. She rushed out the door, her hand held over her mouth, tears streaming down her face.

They were both silent for a moment after she left.

Finally, Kyle asked, “Do you think the boyfriend might have done it?”

“I don’t know,” Lewis said. “He might have, or he might have hired someone to do it if he knew about the money.”

Seeing something, Kyle knelt down and picked up a pen that had slid under the table. It was a silver Mont Blanc with engraving on the side:
We are so proud of you!

He looked at the door, feeling terrible for the brokenhearted girl who had just run from the room.

CHAPTER 29

The white steeple rose high into the sky in stark contrast to the banks of low, gray clouds that shuttered the day. A few scattered snowflakes drifted down only to melt as soon as they landed on the hoods of the cars or the wet sidewalk.

Kyle turned up the collar of his overcoat and stuffed his hands in the pockets as he and a handful of local townspeople made their way into the church for the Joneses’ memorial service.

He wasn’t exactly sure why he was here. He had brought her pen with him, but he could just as easily have called her to let her know he had it. He had told Lewis he thought it might be worthwhile to attend in order to keep an eye on the girl and any possible suspects who might show up, but that wasn’t really the reason. Nor was it anything as shallow as physical attraction for the girl. Sympathy, empathy, and even guilt were more accurate descriptions for the feelings that had drawn him here. He supposed it stemmed from his childhood experiences with Miss Vera and her son, but he had always been drawn to people in need. Deep down, he felt guilty about their situation in life, as if he were somehow responsible for their misfortune and it was his duty to make things right again.

In this particular case, Kyle’s guilt was not totally unfounded. The hard truth of the matter was that if they had found the killer in time, Carrie’s grandparents would still be alive.

Whatever his motivation, Lewis hadn’t seemed to mind. The past few days had been spent following up on information about Carrie’s ex-boyfriend, including any airline tickets he might have purchased to Montana, substantial bank withdrawals, loans or credit card advances he might have made, or any other suspicious activity he might have been involved with in recent weeks. They were still waiting for the forensics report on the Joneses’ place, which was due back today.

Halfway down the aisle, Kyle paused when he saw the elaborate stained-glass windows above the choir loft. They were reminiscent of the windows in the Highland Park Methodist Church in Dallas, bringing back a sudden flood of memories he thought he had put behind him long ago.

The last time he had been there had been for his father’s funeral. He could still remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday. It was a cool day in late October, the sky a brilliant blue. The leaves on the long row of maples lining the walk had already turned, and the ground was awash in a sea of colors. The crisp, clean scent of fall was in the air, along with the musty smell of damp, decaying leaves.

As he thought back to that day, Kyle realized he hadn’t been back to that church since. It wasn’t because he wasn’t a religious person; it was just that after his father died, there hadn’t been anyone left who cared enough to take him anymore.

That was one thing he had in common with Carrie. Although the circumstances weren’t exactly the same, he knew what it was like to lose one’s parents. He had lost his father to a heart attack when he was thirteen, and even though his mother was still alive, for all intents and purposes, he had lost her to the bottom of a bottle years before that.

As he stared at the multicolored depiction of Christ on the cross, Kyle wondered if it was that similarity with Carrie that had drawn him here today, perhaps in hopes of finding someone he could commiserate with.

He took a seat at the back of the mourners. He wasn’t a relative or a friend of the family, and he didn’t want to be disrespectful. Besides, this way he would be able to see everyone else who was in attendance.

The front of the stage was lined with an array of flower arrangements. In front of the flowers was a large black-and-white photograph of the Joneses on their wedding day. It was a duplicate of the one Kyle had seen in the cabin.

When everyone was inside and settled, an elderly lady began playing the organ. After a few hymns, the minister stepped up to the lectern to deliver the eulogy. He spoke fondly of the Joneses and of their promised life in the hereafter before he turned the podium over to Carrie.

Kyle straightened up, trying to see over the heads of those in attendance while Carrie made her way up the red-carpeted steps. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, the long, brown tresses spilling down the middle of her back. She wore a simple, dark blue dress, without any noticeable makeup or jewelry.

She appeared nervous as she adjusted the microphone to her height, flinching at the amplified creaking that rang out through the sanctuary.

After she cleared her throat, she paused for a moment as she unfolded a few sheets of paper and laid them on the platform before her.

“Please forgive me for reading this,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m not very good at public speaking. I’m much better at writing, and there were so many things I wanted to say I was afraid I would forget if I didn’t write it all down.

“When I was eleven, my parents were taken from me in an automobile accident. It was the most horrible time in my entire life. I couldn’t understand why something so terrible should have happened to me. What I had done to deserve such punishment from God? Fortunately, Grandpa Bill and Audrey Gran took me in. Without them, I’m not sure I would have made it through the next few years.” At first, she was just reading aloud, but as she continued, she seemed to gain confidence, the words seeming to come easier.

“My grandmother was an incredibly strong lady. No matter what happened, she never lost faith. At my parent’s funeral, she was the one who held us together. I remember her standing before the church, her chin held high as she spoke of how proud she was of her daughter and how she knew she was in a better place, waiting for her friends and family to join her one day. I remember Grandpa Bill pulling out his hanky to dab his eyes and holding it for me to blow my nose. And even though she was hurting as much, if not more than the rest of us, my grandmother never shed a tear. She was our backbone, our strength. Her faith was amazing.”

Carrie paused to flip the page, and it appeared as if she might break down. She sniffled and wiped beneath her eyes with a shaky hand. A smile crossed her face. “Guess I could still use Grandpa’s hanky,” she said. A few in the audience laughed nervously, but Kyle wasn’t one of them. The more he listened, the more guilt-ridden he became.

“Grandpa Bill and Audrey Gran lived on a small ranch in Montana at the time,” she continued. “With Bill and a few hired hands running the ranch while Audrey taught third grade at the elementary school in Lewiston. I remember how strange it all seemed to me after moving from the city. My parents were gone, and I was in a new place without any friends. I began to withdraw, but it seemed like every time I began feeling sorry for myself, Audrey Gran would suddenly appear with milk and a plate of freshly baked cookies or an offer to go horseback riding to the far side of the ranch. It was as if she was gifted with clairvoyance. She was always there when I needed her most.

“Some of my fondest memories from that time are riding out late in the afternoon to watch the sun set behind the mountains in the distance. Although she never spoke about it directly, later I came to realize that this was Granny’s way of getting me to look at life from a broader perspective, to see all the beauty and wonderment of life instead of focusing on the darkness and pain that was so prevalent in my life at that time.”

She paused for a moment and bit her bottom lip. Tears welled in her eyes as she struggled to maintain her composure.

“I told myself I wasn’t going to do this,” she said, her voice cracking as the tears rolled down her face.

Kyle felt as if someone had stuck a dagger in his gut. And every time she threatened to break down, it twisted a little bit more.

It took a while for her to regain her composure, but she would not step down. The sanctuary was silent except for the scattered sobs and coughs and sniffles as everyone shared in her grief.

Finally, when she had gathered herself sufficiently, she cleared her throat and began again.

“Grandpa Bill was one of the kindest, funniest, and most loveable people in the world. While my grandmother showed me how to be strong, he showed me how to laugh again. He loved animals and the outdoors, and he taught me to love them as well. The first time he tried to teach me how to milk a cow, we wound up getting more on the ground and each other than we did in the pail. We both laughed so hard we cried, and I swear that from then on, every time I passed that cow, it ran from me.” She smiled through her tears as people in the audience chuckled. “Even though he was busy with the ranch, Grandpa Bill always found time for me, and every few weeks, he would take a day off so the two of us could go hiking or fishing. I didn’t have the heart to tell him how much I hated the smelly, slimy things, but I loved those trips.”

She looked toward the ceiling and blinked several times. When she spoke again, her voice was thick with emotion.

“Now that they’re gone,” she said, “I don’t have anyone else to rely on to help me through this. But I do have the lessons of courage and love that they taught me, and as long as I have that, I’ll never be alone.” Again, she paused before she managed to get out, “Thank you all for your kindness … and prayers … and for being here today.” And then it was as if the emotional weight became too much for her, and she broke down again as she hurried from the podium back to her seat.

Kyle felt like a complete bastard. He couldn’t have felt worse if she had called him up in front of everyone and pointed him out as the reason her grandparents were dead.

There was an uncomfortable silence, broken only by a few more coughs and sniffles as an older lady made her way up the steps. She shuffled over to a microphone on the right side of the podium. She sang as the organist played “Amazing Grace.”

At the conclusion of the service, Kyle stayed back while friends of the Joneses gathered around Carrie to give their condolences. He didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, as if she were being watched. Nor did he want to embarrass her by returning her pen in front of a group of people. He was contemplating if he should just slip out and do it at some other time when he noticed a tuft of red hair among the well-wishers at the front of the sanctuary. After he made his way to the far end of the row, Kyle slipped down the aisle behind Carrie to get a better look. It was the reporter, Wallace Hipple. Kyle recognized him from the press conferences and his photo in the paper.

He didn’t think Hipple had known the Joneses. So why was he here other than to try and get something from her that he could write about in the paper like some overaged TMZ reporter? The story had become the talk of the town, and Hipple had done nothing but increase the apprehension of everyone in the valley with his sensationalized reporting. Kyle wanted to hear what the reporter had to say.

The crowd around Carrie had dispersed for the most part, and Kyle got close enough to catch part of what Hipple had to say. He was the last to speak to her—no doubt in an effort to maximize the amount of time he might spend with her while minimizing the number of witnesses to his questions.

“… dear friends and I just wanted you to know how much they will be missed.”

“Thank you,” Carrie replied politely.

“Yes, well, it’s the least I can do,” Hipple said, doing his best to appear sympathetic. “Now I know this isn’t really the best time for this, but I was wondering if—” He broke off as he glanced above Carrie’s shoulder, his eyes meeting Kyle’s.

Kyle arched his eyebrow, challenging Hipple to continue with his question.

“Yes, well, perhaps this is not the best time,” said the pompous little reporter. “Maybe we can talk again some other time. In private,” he added with a sneer toward Kyle. “Here’s one of my cards. Please feel free to call me any time if there is anything I can do for you.”

Hipple turned and walked away down the aisle toward the doors. Kyle was disappointed that he hadn’t caught more of the conversation, but he was glad the little weasel was gone.

Apparently sensing Hipple’s sudden change had been caused by someone behind her, Carrie turned around.

“Special Agent Andrews, isn’t it?” Carrie asked.

Kyle was caught off guard. He hadn’t planned on Hipple spotting him and bolting so quickly. “Uh, yes … well, no. I’m a victim specialist, remember?” he explained, hating the way it sounded.

“Isn’t it a little unusual for an FBI agent to attend the memorial of the victims?” she asked. It sounded like more of an accusation than a question.

“I can’t really say,” he said with a shrug. “I just wanted to offer my condolences and let you know how sorry I am. I met your grandparents, and they were both very kind.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Is that all?”

Kyle
had
been sincere, but she seemed suspicious of his motives. “I was also curious to hear what that reporter had to say to you,” he admitted.

“Why is that?”

Kyle didn’t want to get into the details of the situation, so he simply said. “I don’t trust him.”

“I see,” she said, her voice suddenly terse. “You don’t trust reporters?”

Damn
, Kyle thought as he remembered that she was a reporter with a small paper in Denver. “No, no, it’s just that I—”

“Look,” she said wearily, “I’ve had enough dealings with the justice system lately, and to tell you the truth, I don’t trust you either. Instead of worrying about what some reporter has to say to me, why don’t you go find who killed my grandparents?”