Dead By Dawn (2 page)

The woman was trembling. She looked into Kelly’s big, blue, terrified eyes. Her voice came out shaky, “What are we going to do now?”

“Same plan. We’ll dump her and get rid of this one.” He pointed at Kelly.

They all got back into the car. The woman drove to the aqueduct. The man in the back gave her directions. “Take a left here,” he demanded.

She turned the car and kept driving until he told her to stop. The other gunman in the front seat got out and took Kelly out of the car. “Take that one and dump her, then we’ll do this one,” he said to the man in backseat.

The man in back lifted Dayna’s body from the car and started walking to the edge of the water. The gunman who was holding Kelly shot the other man in the back as he walked away. The man dropped the little girl’s body as he fell to the ground. The woman put Kelly in the front seat of the car and stayed with her, while the other man loaded the dead man into the trunk of the car.

When he got into the car, the woman asked, “Are we going to do anything with the other little girl?”

“No, leave her there. Someone will find her quickly and she’ll get a proper burial,” he said.

“What are we going to do with Bing’s body?” she asked.

“Let’s head out to Tehachapi and dump it out there. There is alot of desert. No one will find him for a while.”

“What about the kid?”

“Any ideas?” he asked.

“One of us has to stay with her or she’ll tell,” she said.

“I can’t take care of a little girl,” he said exasperated.

“I can’t either,” she said.

“Do you have any relatives?”

“I haven’t seen my family in years.”

“How long has it been?” he inquired.

Se paused, trying to calculate the time in her head. “Three years or so.”

“So, maybe it’s time to go back and introduce them to their grandchild,” he said quickly.

“I hate those people,” the woman said in disgust.

“Look, they will be good cover until we come up with a better plan. The cops are going to be looking for those girls.”

She thought about it for a moment. As much as she hated her parents, it was better than going to jail. It was also the only plan they had at the moment. Pensively she said, “Okay, that’s what we’ll do. After we dump Bing’s body, we’ll head to my parent’s house.”

They drove off into the night with Kelly between them in the front seat and the body of the dead man in the trunk.

September 3, 1977

Seventeen year old Barton Edmunds got out of bed for work. He pulled on his work clothes and got himself a bowl of cereal for breakfast. After breakfast he went out on the porch and lit up a joint. He had been smoking pot every day since he was fourteen. Recently, his parents had moved him to a place of his own. They were no longer amused with the daily pot smoking and drinking. After he got high, he took some speed and headed out to work.

The farm house in Shandon was quiet when Barton Edmunds drove up at 6:00 am. That was unusual. The ranch was usually bustling by this time. Shelly Davenport would have breakfast cooking. The smell of bacon and eggs would usually be wafting out of the open back door. There was normally the sound of the two girls up and running around the house playing and squealing in their high-pitched voices. David Davenport was normally at work in the barn by this time.

Edmunds was the only ranch hand working that day because of the holiday weekend. He looked at the house for a moment and thought that maybe since it was a holiday, the Davenport family had decided to sleep in. Barton went out to the barn. The animals had not been fed. He fed the chickens and went back to the barn to get some hay for the horses. When that was done, he decided he needed to find out from David what needed to be done that day. He walked past the kids swing set in the silent yard and knocked on the back door. No answer. No noise. He walked around to the front yard. He could hear Jeremy crying. He walked up on the porch and knocked on the front door. After a few moments, there was still no answer.

Barton walked down the drive way to the back yard. The family car was sitting in the driveway and David’s truck was behind the barn. Edmunds could feel a prickle on the back of his neck. Something wasn’t right. He walked back up on the front porch and knocked again. Nothing but the sound of Jeremy’s crying. Edmunds tried to look inside through the plate glass window in front. The glare of the sun kept him from seeing inside. He cupped his hands next to his eyes and peered in again. David Davenport’s body was on the floor, behind a chair in the living room. He could see what looked like blood seeping out onto the floor around David.

Edmunds called to him, “Dave.” There was no answer. Edmunds tried the front door. It was locked. He decided to kick it in. If he was wrong, he would take it up with David later. The door didn’t give on the first kick. He tried again, but his attempt was clumsy. On his third try, the door gave way and opened. Edmunds fell forward into the small living room. He ran to David’s body; checking to see if he was alive. No pulse. He called out to Shelly. No answer. He went to the kitchen. She was dead on the floor. He started to panic. What if the killer was still here? Where were the girls? He went back to the bedrooms and looked for the girls. They weren’t anywhere. He found Jeremy and took him out of his crib. He had no idea what to do with a baby. Edmunds put him into his car and drove to the nearest neighbor to call the police.

The call came into Jeff Rogers’ office as he was preparing to leave for the day. His paralegal peeked her head into the office to let him know that Tracy McCarthy was on the phone. “She said it’s urgent,” the paralegal said.

Jeff put his briefcase on the desk and waited for the phone call to ring through. “Hey, there. How’s my favorite volleyball player?” he asked, truly happy to hear from her.

“I’ve got a problem. Maybe a stalker,” Tracy said to Jeff.

Tracy McCarthy was the world’s best beach volleyball player and one of Jeff ’s lowest maintenance clients. As a sports agent, many of his clients were demanding and high maintenance. But Tracy had never been like that. She was always down-to-earth. No drama, no drugs, no alcohol. She had a squeaky clean image that had landed her commercials and movie roles.

Jeff sat down in his chair. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I’ve been getting letters for a couple of months from a guy who says he may be my brother,” she said. “He showed up at the tournament in Huntington Beach this weekend and introduced himself. It scared me. He insisted that I needed to meet with him.”

“Did he seem creepy?” Jeff said.

“No, he seemed fine, actually. Nice looking, well kept. Do you think I’m over reacting?” Tracy asked.

Jeff thought for a moment. “No, I think you should go with your gut reaction. Do you have the letters?”

“I have them. Should I get a restraining order?”

“No, not yet. Would you mind if I have my wife check him out?” he asked. Jeff ’s wife was ex-homicide detective Lindsay Carter. Lindsay had recently started her own private detective firm.

“I thought your wife quit the department after the baby was born.” Tracy said.

“She did. There was no way that I was going to get her to stay home all day. She’s too type-A for that. She’s a private detective now,” he said.

“Wow, good for her. Good for you too. I remember she used to work some awful hours. Nice for her too, no dead bodies,” Tracy said with a laugh.

“Those days are over. Although, I know she misses it. She’s a nineto-five woman, now,” he chuckled. “Do you know the guy’s name?”

“He says his name is Jeremy Davenport. The address on the return envelopes is in San Luis Obispo,” she said.

Jeff wrote down the information. “I’ll talk to Lindsay tonight about taking the job.”

“Okay, have her call me and let me know what she needs.” Tracy said. “Thanks for listening. I don’t mean to be a pain but my husband gets worried with him gone all the time.”

“I understand his concern,” Jeff said. Tracy McCarthy’s husband was a professional basketball player and on the road a great deal of the year himself. Jeff wondered when they were going to have children. Stu Parker was six-foot-seven and Tracy McCarthy was a smaller, but statuesque six-foot-one. No doubt, those would be giant children if and when they got around to it.

Jeff left the office and headed home to Calabasas. When he walked into the house, the smell of roast chicken overwhelmed his senses. He walked toward the kitchen to see what else his wife had cooking. “Hi sweetie,” Lindsay said. She walked over to him with their son, Evan, in her arms. “Look sweetie, Daddy’s home.”

Jeff took Evan from her arms. At six months old, he was a cherub. Big fat chubby cheeks and sparkling blue eyes, just like his mother’s. He had reddish blond hair; no doubt from Lindsay’s side of the family. Evan was her little clone. “Hi, big guy,” he said and kissed his son’s cheek. Jeff leaned over and kissed his wife. “How was your day?”

Lindsay went to the oven to check the chicken. “It was fine. We went to the doctor for a checkup and then to Grandma’s house.”

“My mom, or your mom?”

“I had a little shopping to do, so I left him with your mom for a couple hours.”

“How was your day?” she asked, pulling the chicken out of the oven.

“It was good. Tracy McCarthy called me. We have a job for you,” he said.

“Yeah, I can get out of the house for a few hours,” Lindsay said excitedly.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” Jeff asked dryly.

“No, I just miss the action. Ray calls me everyday to see when I’m coming back.” Ray Karns had been Lindsay’s former partner when she quit the force. “He’s threatening to bring me hot chocolate and cold cases. What’s up with Tracy?”

“A possible stalker. The guy has been sending her letters. He’s gotten bolder lately and tried meeting her.”

“Are the letters threatening?”

“I don’t think so. From what Tracy told me, he insists that they are related. Anyway, I told her you would call her.”

“Did you get any information?” Lindsay asked.

“I did. But, I’m not giving it to you until tomorrow morning. I know you. If I give it to you tonight, you’ll spend all night researching the guy.”

“I’m that transparent?” she asked, coyly.

“Yes, you are. Now feed me woman,” he joked.

“Caveman, you want to pull me back to the cave by my hair?” she laughed.

Jeff gave the information to Lindsay as he left for work in the morning. Lindsay called Tracy McCarthy while Evan was napping.

“I checked out Jeremy Davenport. There doesn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary. He doesn’t have a criminal record,” Lindsay told her.

“Okay, so I shouldn’t be worried?” Tracy asked.

“Why don’t we do this, I will stop by and get the letters. If I read them and think something is off, I’ll call you,” Lindsay said.

“You don’t have to come down here. I am meeting Jeff at his office this afternoon at two. Why don’t you join us and we’ll all discuss it?” Tracy offered.

Lindsay got dressed in a nice pair of black slacks and a pink silk blouse. It felt so good to dress up again and spend the day with adults. She loved her son more than anything in the world, but she definitely needed to spend more time with other adults. She put on some makeup and curled her mid-shoulder-length blond hair. Today, she would go all-out and wear high heels.

The drive to Jeff ’s office in Beverly Hills took about forty minutes. When Lindsay showed up, Jeff’s assistant showed her into Jeff’s office. He looked up from the phone call he was on and smiled. She sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. When he got off the phone he said, “You are one hot chick. Don’t tell my wife I said that.”

“Your wife is one lucky lady,” she said in a flirty voice. “Where’s your client?”

As if on cue, Jeff ’s assistant showed Tracy McCarthy in. She walked over and hugged Lindsay. “You look great.”

“Thanks, how are you?” Lindsay replied.

“Things are good. I’m here to sign some contracts. Jeff got me more work,” she said smiling. “How’s Evan? I want to see pictures.”

Jeff pulled a picture frame from the credenza behind the desk. “Here he is. Our little stud muffin.”

“Oh, he’s so beautiful. He looks just like his mother,” she cooed.

They sat down and got down to business. Tracy took a stack of letters from her oversized purse. “Here they are. I reread them this morning after we talked. I think he’s crazy.”

“When he approached you at the tournament, did he seem crazed?” Lindsay asked.

“No, he seemed normal. But, he kept insisting we needed to talk. He gave me his phone number.”

“Does he want to talk about something specific?” Lindsay asked.