Targeted (Callahan & McLane Book 4) (13 page)

“What did he say?” asked Nora.

“He’s the one who pointed out that the deaths appeared very targeted and well thought out—”

“We knew that,” said Thad. “Why do these guys always point out the obvious and make it sound like some grand observation?”

Zander ignored him and went on. “He’s very intrigued by the masks. Covering the face generally indicates that the killer knew the victim and it shows the tiniest bit of guilt as they try to preserve a small part of the victim’s dignity or hide the victim’s eyes from looking at the killer. But the fact that he deliberately brings horror masks to the crime scene for the sole purpose of covering the faces sort of goes against the first theory of covering the face. Euzent sees it as an indicator of pride and power. ‘I did this. I’ve created you’ type of mentality.”

“So a serious ego problem?” asked Nora.

“Definitely. Along with anger,” added Zander. “I sent Euzent everything we had on the three deaths. He’ll get back to me in a day or two. Oh, he does agree that Vance Weldon needs to be treated as a murder victim.”

“That’s what we’ve been doing,” Thad said under his breath. “What about common links between the three guys? Did anything turn up?” he asked louder.

“I’ve been going through their credit card statements,” said Henry. “Denny and Samuelson belong to the same national gym. They’re both automatically charged by the gym each month.”

“Do they work out at the same location?” asked Ava.

“They did. So it’s possible that they knew each other that way. I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to Samuelson’s coworkers and see if they believe the two of them knew each other, but everyone close to Denny says they weren’t aware of Samuelson.” He looked at his computer. “Special Agent Weldon and Denny used the same cell phone provider, primary bank, and mortgage company. Nothing surprising there. I have all the same, too.”

“Outside activities?” asked Zander.

“Two have no church affiliation. Weldon attended the Methodist church down the street from his house. Denny and Samuelson both volunteered with a philanthropy group for kids.”

“Did we find any cases that Samuelson and Schefte worked on at the same time?” Zander asked.

“We got a hit on the database search overnight,” said Nora. “It was on my agenda for this meeting.”

Ava and Zander sat up straighter. Why hadn’t she said that first thing?

“The case is seven years old and I’m not sure what to think about it,” Nora said. “Louis Samuelson was barely involved. His name is in the file because he provided some of the necessary legwork at the scene. He helped with the perimeter after a murder-suicide case out in rural Clackamas County. Schefte was one of the OSP investigators. A husband killed his wife and then himself in this case.”

“That’s a pretty weak connection,” said Zander. “There must have been a couple dozen cops from several departments that helped with the perimeter. Any FBI involvement? Any other officers from that case that have died?”

“Those are the questions I wanted answered before I presented it here,” said Nora. “I asked one of the IT guys to search for the answers a few hours ago and I just got a reply.” She scanned her computer screen. “There was some very light FBI involvement. The brother of the husband was being watched for domestic terrorism in Central Oregon.”

“That’s Vance Weldon’s department,” Ava pointed out.

“But the husband had virtually no ties to his brother,” Nora continued. “It appeared they were estranged. The FBI reviewed this case and moved on, classifying it as not relevant to any of their investigations. Vance didn’t work out of the Portland office at that time.”

“What was the outcome of the case?” asked Henry.

“It was exactly as appeared,” said Nora. “Everything indicated the husband killed the wife and then shot himself. He was deep in debt and his home was about to be foreclosed on.”

“We need to find out what the brother is doing right now,” said Ava. “And find out what bank was foreclosing. This is a lead we can’t set aside even if Weldon doesn’t appear to have been involved.”

“Any other deaths associated with the officers that worked that scene?” Zander asked.

“Two have died, but they’d also retired since that incident.”

“They say cops often don’t live long after retirement,” Ava said quietly to Zander. She planned to make certain Mason lived a long and healthy life after his.

“Causes of death?” Zander asked.

“Working on it. It wasn’t readily available, but out of the hundred or so names even remotely associated with the case—I’m talking evidence technicians and support staff, too—I don’t see two deaths as unusual,” stated Nora.

“Not two. There are
four
deaths counting Schefte and Samuelson,” Ava pointed out. Nora nodded in agreement.

“Mason’s name is associated with the case. It looks like he helped out at some point,” Nora added.

Chills shot up Ava’s back, and she sucked in a breath.

Mason worked a lot of cases with Denny Schefte. It doesn’t mean anything.

All eyes in the room turned to her.

She didn’t move and kept her gaze locked on Nora. “That doesn’t surprise me,” she said with a calm she didn’t feel.

Nora nodded and sympathy flickered in her eyes. Being in a relationship with a cop meant you dealt with danger and the unknown every day. Ava understood. Both she and Mason did.

But it didn’t mean she wasn’t affected.

“We need to follow up on the protesters at the memorial and on the cause of death of those two officers,” Nora stated. “Louis Samuelson’s memorial hasn’t been scheduled yet. According to his father, the immediate family didn’t like how public Denny Schefte’s memorial became and wants to do something privately.”

“Can’t blame them,” said Henry. “That sort of publicity isn’t for everyone.”

“They don’t want OSP to do
anything
,” Nora said. “I realize it’s not about us, but it can be helpful for other officers. We’ll respect their wishes.”

“Any new evidence out of either autopsy?” Zander asked.

Nora pulled out a sheet of paper. “According to the medical examiner, Denny didn’t have any flesh under his nails or any defensive wounds on his arms.”

“He didn’t fight back,” muttered Henry. “Or he never saw it coming.”

“There was one long dark hair found on his shirt,” Nora stated.

“DNA?” asked Ava.

“No follicle to remove it from.”

Crap.

“It’s a bit unusual,” said Zander. “Obviously there were no women with them, but he could have picked it up from a previous guest in his cabin or even off a chair at the bar.”

Nora nodded and gave a small grin. “They found one on Louis Samuelson’s body, too,” she said triumphantly.

A chorus of confusion sounded in the room.

Nora likes a little drama.
Ava didn’t know whether to admire her or shake her for making them wait for the information.

“Again, no follicle. But visually it’s very similar to the one found on Denny.”

“A woman?” Ava said slowly. She tried to imagine herself lifting Louis Samuelson onto the spikes on his living room wall and then driving more through his wrists.

“Holy shit,” said Henry. “I can’t see it.”

“Could be a guy with long hair,” said Zander. “I assume both hairs haven’t been analyzed by trace yet?”

Nora nodded. “Correct. As soon as the second one was brought to my attention this morning, I requested a comparison.”

Ava wondered how long it would take. “We don’t have anything like that from the Weldon scene, right?”

Nora shook her head. “Dr. Rutledge did tell me he’s taking another close look at what he has from Vance Weldon’s autopsy. I don’t think the presence of a long hair will turn up. He also told me the early tox screens on Denny and Louis didn’t reveal anything interesting. We’ll have more in-depth results in a few weeks.”

“This can’t go on for a few weeks,” said Ava.

“Agreed,” said Nora. “That’s why we’re going to find him. Or her.”

17

Mason mindlessly shuffled papers at his desk. Across from him, Ray did the same. The detectives’ corral was oddly empty, everyone out in the field except for the two of them.

And except for Nora and Henry upstairs in the task force room.

Mason’s brain told his muscles to get up, head for the stairs, and listen in on their meeting. It took all his focus to stay seated and address his cases.

Ray appeared to have a hangover. Mason hadn’t seen Ray hungover in two years. The last time had been after a bachelor party for . . . Mason paused. He couldn’t remember the guy’s name. All Mason could remember was that the guy had left OSP to join his new father-in-law’s real estate company. Now he drove a Lexus.

The Realtor didn’t feel the public wanted to shoot him in the back.

“Did you take some aspirin? And drink lots of water?” Mason asked.

“Yes, Dad,” Ray answered, not looking up.

“I feel fine,” Mason stated.

“Good for you.”

“You should have stuck to beer.”

“Morales was the one who ordered the tequila shots,” Ray complained.

“Tequila gives you hangovers. Even I know that.”

“I forgot.”

Mason didn’t answer that one. His desk phone rang.

“Detective Callahan? I’m Heidi Lain. I work with Dr. Kersey and help her treat Jayne McLane.”

“I remember you, Heidi.” He’d met the woman during one of his trips to the center with Ava. He couldn’t remember what she did exactly, but he knew she wasn’t a doctor. When Jayne had entered the center, she’d given written permission for all her medical records and medical discussions to be shared with both Mason and Ava.

“It’s been recommended that phone calls go to you first instead of Ava, correct?”

“That’s right. She gets emails only. She needs to have a filter between herself and anything to do with Jayne. That filter is me.”

“During our team meeting this morning, Dr. Kersey shared the conversation she had with you yesterday.”

“Does she think we’re nuts?” Mason asked bluntly.

Heidi laughed politely. “She didn’t say that. I will say the staff here is evenly divided on how much progress Jayne has made. Some of us share a more skeptical view. Dr. Kersey is fabulous, but sometimes sees the world through rose-colored glasses.”

Mason wanted to cheer.

“You see Jayne for the liar that she is,” he said.

Heidi paused. “That’s one way of phrasing it. I prefer to say I don’t take everything Jayne says at face value. I’ve learned that patients frequently tell you what they believe you want to hear. Oftentimes it’s hard to tell the difference between truth and lies. Some of them are very skilled at it.”

“Jayne’s the best I’ve ever seen,” Mason said. “And I’ve been a cop for over two decades.”

“I agree.”

“I appreciate you calling to tell me this,” said Mason. “We were worried she’d fooled everyone out there.”

“That’s not the only reason I’ve called.”

Uh-oh.

“I’ve been watching Jayne interact with another patient and I have concerns. I’ve brought my concerns to the staff and the other patient’s family and now I’m taking them to you.”

“Oh, crap.” He gripped his phone tighter, and Ray looked up at his change in tone. “What’s going on? Is it a man?”

“It is,” Heidi answered.

Mason didn’t vocalize the string of swear words that shot through his brain. Jayne had mentioned a man in one of her emails, and he knew Ava believed she was fixated on him.

“You need to separate them. Today,” Mason said. Men and Jayne didn’t mix well. She’d convinced one boyfriend to break into Mason’s home, and she’d nearly died in a meth lab explosion because of the same man. According to Ava she latched on to a man, got what she wanted, and then went on her merry way, leaving bodies in her wake. The stories Ava told about Jayne and her past boyfriends made his hair curl.

He wasn’t overreacting.

“I agree, but the center has rules in place and neither of them have broken any rules. They’re only in each other’s presence during some downtime in the common area. We have separate wings for the men and women but a shared public space.”

“I remember,” said Mason. He’d toured the center. It’d felt sterile and welcoming at the same time. The common area was the part that had felt like someone’s home.

“They talk quietly nonstop,” said Heidi. “Nothing else. But she’s acting different. She smiles like she has secrets from everyone . . . not the type of smile that she’s having a good day. It’s a malicious smile—if that makes sense.”

“It does.” Mason had seen it. “What’s the story with this guy?”

“I can’t share much due to patient confidentiality laws, but he’s quite young.”

Vulnerable to a pushy older woman?

“What do you think she wants from him?” Mason asked. “If you were in her shoes, what is the appeal?”

“Attention. Admiration.”

“That’s pretty standard for Jayne, but I suspect there’s more to it than that. She could get that from anyone. What makes this guy unique?”

“Well . . . he’s from a very rich family.”

“Bingo,” said Mason. “Jayne can smell other people’s money a mile away. You need to give this family a heads-up. If this guy has access to any accounts while he’s in there, believe me, Jayne will figure out how to tap into them for her own benefit.”

“But he’s married,” argued Heidi. “I’ve seen him with his wife. They’re still in that newlywed phase. The whole reason he’s here is to get cleaned up for her.”

Mason wondered if Heidi had just crossed that patient confidentiality line. “Jayne doesn’t see wedding rings. If she wants something, she plows through everything until she gets it. She doesn’t care who she hurts. I’m sure your doctors have tested her and realize she’s a narcissist, right?” In his own bits of research, he’d found Jayne to fit the textbook definition of the word.

Heidi was silent.

“You brought this to my attention because you know there’s something wrong. I’m telling you that your instincts are right and this patient’s family needs to take some precautions.”

“It creates a bit of a delicate balance for us,” Heidi said slowly. “These patients are here because the families want them in a safe place where they can focus on their healing. It’s the reason you chose us for Jayne, correct?”

“Yes. You’re saying that you don’t want to warn his family that trouble might be coming from another patient? Because that would indicate your staff can’t keep him safe,” Mason said dryly. It was the same in all businesses: How do I cover my ass?

“He’s not in harm’s way,” Heidi stated.

“Not physically, no,” agreed Mason. “But I can assure you he’ll be a shell of the man he is now if Jayne decides he has something she wants.”

“I understand, Detective Callahan. I’ll see what I can do on our end.”

“Say, I forgot to ask Dr. Kersey last night, but do you know if anyone has called or come to the center asking for Jayne? Ava’s had a couple of encounters with an older man who’s shown an odd interest in finding Jayne. He claims it’s because of her artwork, but Ava and I have our doubts.”

“What do you think he wants?” Heidi asked.

“That’s what we’re wondering. It’s very possible Jayne owes someone money, but that’s just an educated guess.”

“I’m not aware of any inquiries for Jayne. You know we’d never reveal if a patient is a resident during a phone call or to someone who walks in off the street. We have strict guidelines on patient privacy.”

“I know you wouldn’t. I’m primarily curious to know if this person has managed to track her.”

“I’ll check with our receptionist. All general calls go through her.”

“Can you check right away? We’d like to know as soon as possible.”

Heidi promised and wrapped up the phone call. Mason slowly replaced his receiver.

“Jayne strikes again?” Ray asked.

“Not yet. But I’m afraid she’s up to something.”

“Are you going to tell Ava?”

Mason didn’t answer. He didn’t know the answer.

“If you tell her,” said Ray, “is there something she can do to help the situation?”

“That’s just it. I don’t think so. We’re powerless on the outside. The only solution is for the staff to keep the two of them separated or else convince him or his family that he shouldn’t be around her. I don’t see either of those things happening.”

“Will Ava be affected if Jayne messes with this other man’s head?” Ray asked pointedly.

Mason understood his friend was trying to help him look at the problem logically. “Not really. She’ll be disappointed in her sister, but that’s nothing new.”

The repercussions for Ava from Jayne’s behavior couldn’t be predicted.

How did you estimate the effect on a heart that’d been destroyed countless times?

Ava strode past the doors in the long hallway. The large office building stood in a nice area of southwest Portland with ample parking and quiet streets. Her assignment was to interview the director of the philanthropic organization that Denny and Louis Samuelson had both volunteered with. Mason had been on the organization’s board for a good decade. It was similar to the Big Brothers Big Sisters programs. This one paired cops with at-risk youth, both boys and girls. Mason had volunteered for several years before his ex-wife pointed out that the program’s children saw more of him than his own son did. Ava spotted the door that read C
OPS
4 K
IDZ
and pushed it open.

The office space was large and quite bare. She was pleased to see the nonprofit hadn’t sunk its funds into designer furniture or fancy water features for the waiting room. Half of the furniture in the room was kid-size and appeared well used. Crayons, games, and books filled a large table in a corner. No signs of electronic entertainment.

Ava approved.

The receptionist greeted her and told her she’d let the director know she’d arrived. Ava had barely sat down when Scott Heuser entered the waiting room and held out his hand. She took it, slightly surprised at his youth. He looked like a fraternity pledge. Mason had spoken highly of Scott Heuser in the past, saying he’d infused the organization with fresh blood and optimism.

He introduced himself and invited her back to his office. The back area of the business was as bare as the front. No frills here. He ushered her into a small office and gestured for her to take a seat. “I’ve found what I can on those two officers.” Candid brown eyes met hers. “You understand we try to keep track of who does what, but we have so many volunteer events it’s nearly impossible to track everyone. People are supposed to sign in and they don’t. Others promise to attend and then don’t show up.” He held up a hand as she opened her mouth. “I’m not criticizing. We’re all very busy and either forget or overextend ourselves. Even I don’t follow through on all my promises.”

Scott flipped through a few sheets of paper on his desk. “Captain Schefte volunteered for almost twenty years. I’m impressed.”

“I can see him doing that,” Ava said. “He was very active outside of his job. What did he do for you?”

“He mostly coached our sports teams. Basketball for ages five through high school. Boys and girls. He also did one-on-one mentorships a few times. He hasn’t done any for the past several years.”

“That’s where you pair a cop with a child who needs another adult influence, right?” Ava asked.

“Yes. Over two-thirds of the kids we work with come from single-parent homes . . . most of those are missing a father. The organization has more male volunteers than female, so it’s worked well to pair up men with high-risk children over the decades.”

“But what about proper training for these volunteers?” Ava asked. “They aren’t experts in child psychology.” She’d volunteered only at the big fund-raisers, which didn’t have child involvement. She hadn’t helped out on the true front lines.

“We have classes for the volunteers before we pair them up. We’re very frank about some of the situations they might be walking into. A child might have an addict in the family or have been abused.” Scott’s face was stone-cold serious. “We tell them to use common sense and understand that most of the kids simply need positive attention. If they see signs of the child needing medical or psychological help, we have resources. The majority of our volunteers have been patrol cops at one point or another; they’re already used to looking for the signs.”

“Very true,” said Ava. “They’ve learned on the job.”

“It makes for an excellent pool of volunteers,” said Scott. “Cops 4 Kidz wasn’t originally intended to rely on police officer expertise; it was started because cops saw a need. Every day. Most police officers picked that profession because they want to help people. Our organization adds another opportunity to provide that help. Often on a more personal level.”

“Most police officers?” Ava questioned.

Scott sighed. “You know as well as I do that some are more about their own egos. Once they realize that we don’t pat them on the back for their service and that this can be heartbreaking work, they leave. We need people who have a deep desire to give and give.”

“Are you saying some of them cause problems?”

“Oh, no. I didn’t mean that at all. There’s a level of quitting that we completely expect. We
know
it will happen. We try to screen our one-on-one volunteers very carefully so we don’t let a child down when the volunteer decides this isn’t the right fit for them. It’s not for everyone.” He looked at his papers again. “Captain Schefte was a very popular one-on-one volunteer. I wonder what made him step away?”