Authors: Carolyn Arnold
Paige and Zach pulled into the driveway belonging to Connie Shepard, the woman who found Ellis in the ditch. There were three other vehicles there, indicating Shepard had company to support her. Finding a man barely clinging to life would be traumatic.
Lights appeared to be on in every room of the house. There would be no risk of waking anyone up. The house itself was glowing with the colored festivity of the season. A lit, inflatable family of snowmen was on the front lawn. As a grouping, they would have been large enough for a person on a plane to hone in on.
Some people were so tacky when it came to their holiday decorations, but even colored lights were not Paige’s thing. She preferred the soft and elegant touch that white lights offered. She also had a thing for the dangling icicle variety if put up in good taste and not overdone.
Her Christmas tree was always accented with white string lights and colored ornaments.
She loved her brass pieces, some with glass jewels that sparkled.
She didn
’t have the assortment her mother did, which ranged back through generations of the Dawson family, but she did have her
Baby’s First Christmas
ornament. It was a red ceramic stocking with a bear peeking out the top of it. Her name was on the stocking’s trim. Her mother told her this piece was hers, while the others they had acquired over the years, personalized or not, were to remain in the family home. Paige had made the compromise.
This year, she had only gotten as far as pulling out the box of decorations before she’d headed off to Colorado. Each year she would pick out real trees with her mother—one that would belong to the family home and one that would go in her apartment.
She wondered if they
’d get this case solved in time to hunt for trees or even celebrate at home. Her heart fell heavy when negative thoughts took precedence. They
had to
get back in time.
“You coming?” Zach was out of the SUV and butted his head in through the open door.
“Yeah, of course.” She smiled, certain it would appear wistful—the way she was feeling.
She understood why Jack had them on this right away, but still wondered if they would have been further ahead to
come in the morning. A night’s sleep had the tendency to dredge things from the unconscious and provide clarity.
Paige rang the doorbell. It played a rendition of
“Silent Night” infusing even more homesickness and nostalgia through her. She expected Connie Shepard’s dog to start barking, but nothing. It must have been asleep somewhere or unable to come near the door.
The chime hadn
’t finished by the time the door was opened.
A woman in her mid-twenties stood there, a rocks glass in her hand, half full of amber liquid. By the way she wavered, it was obvious it wasn
’t her first drink of the night.
“FBI. We’re looking to speak with Connie Shepard,” Zach said.
She flashed a goofy grin and pointed a finger back at herself and pressed its tip into her chest.
“This is.”
She took a noisy slurp of alcohol and flashed another smile at Zachery.
“And who are you? You’re kind of cute.”
Maybe it was best that they return in the morning. What were they going to get out of a drunk woman? And if they did get something out of her, how reliable would it be?
“Who is it, Connie?” A man came up and draped his arm around her, letting it dangle over her right shoulder.
“They are the FBI.” She kissed him on the cheek—a wet one by the sound of it.
He didn
’t seem to mind. He pulled her in tighter, smiled at her briefly, but leveled a serious gaze on them. “She’s been through an awful lot today. Questioned by the cops about what she found. I think you should leave her alone.”
His eyes were glassy. He had been drinking along with her.
Paige could see, behind the couple, there were a few others who were also drinking. One guy scowled at her.
That confirmed it.
“Perhaps, we’ll come back in the morning.”
“Good idea.”
Connie
’s boyfriend slammed the door.
As they walked down the steps, loud music poured out of the house.
Paige jacked a thumb over her shoulder.
“Guess she found the medication to help her cope with what she’s been through.”
“It’s not her I’m worried about right now.”
“Jack?”
“Yeah, how’s he going to react when we tell him we didn’t speak to her tonight?”
The next morning, we were in the hotel’s restaurant taking advantage of the continental breakfast. The spread of empty carbs was astonishing. There was a hot tray of scrambled eggs and one of pork breakfast sausage—I said no thanks to the latter.
My plate had appeared like I was on some sort of egg diet before I had scarfed it down like a man who wasn
’t sure when his next meal would come. With it, I drank enough coffee to fuel a transport truck. Paige and Zachery pecked at their food, while Jack was finished and had
an unlit cigarette perched between his lips.
“There wasn’t any sense in pushing a drunk woman to talk,” Paige said. Defensiveness was written on all her features, and her cheeks held a touch of pink. Somehow when she was charged up for a fight, she was even more attractive.
Jack removed the cigarette from his mouth and tapped one end on the table as if it were a pen.
“I asked you to speak with her.”
“I understand that, and we tried.” She broke off a piece of her croissant and popped it into her mouth. It had me wanting to kiss the butter from her lips.
Her mouth formed a brief pout after she swallowed her food.
“Jack, she wasn’t in any condition to talk to us. Trust us on that.”
Jack stopped tapping the cigarette.
No one else seemed to get away with speaking so directly to Jack. I wondered if it was because she was a woman or because she was Paige.
She filled in the silence. “We’ll go over there right after breakfast. It’s possible something shook loose overnight.”
“Hmm.”
“Jack, you understand. I know you do.”
His eyes slid from hers to mine, as if I were involved in what he viewed as a conspiracy.
“At least the kid and I made headway last night,” Jack said.
Paige put another piece of croissant in her mouth.
“Turns out the neighbor saw Clyde Ellis leave with another man.”
Zachery thrummed his fingers on his coffee mug.
“So we have an ID?”
“Not even close, but we have a red Nissan.”
“A newer model,” I added.
“Did Ellis seem to know the person he left with?”
“According to the neighbor, Ellis was following behind. It rules out that the man was holding a gun on him.” Jack slipped the cigarette back into his mouth.
“Okay, well, he could have been coerced in another way,” Paige said. “It still doesn’t rule out the use of a gun. The unsub could have been cautious that maybe a neighbor was watching. The underlying threat of being shot still a viable one.”
Zachery got up and went to the coffee carafe, which wasn
’t far from our table.
“Makes sense,” I said.
There was something at the tip of my brain, but I couldn
’t quite pull it out. It fell just out of grasp, but once I got a hold of it, it would prob
ably prove to be a revelation that would steer the case.
Zachery returned with a refreshed cup of coffee. “Ellis could have known his attacker and trusted him.”
“Good thought, Zach.” Jack offered the compliment, and I strained my neck to face him. He rarely offered praise.
I flashed a smirk at Zachery, the expression probably coming across as if I had been poked with an electrical prod.
“Agents, I thought I’d find you here. Saw your SUVs in the lot.” Detective McClellan stood at the end of our table.
No sign of Detective Hogan, but I can’t say I was really surprised.
“We’ve got some news.”
He took in the table and scanned the immediate area. He spotted a free chair and pulled it over.
“First of all, next of kin was notified and it met with the usual reaction. Denial, anger, and then a bunch of tears.” McClellan paused. None of us said anything, so he continued. “With Ellis succumbing to his injuries, needless to say, an autopsy has been arranged for this afternoon.
As Hogan had said last night, we believe Ellis was gagged.”
McClellan pinched his lips and dropped his hand.
“They were able to pull a partial print from the small piece of silver tape that we found near his mouth.”
“Was there a match?”
The detective shook his head. “Nothing in any database.”
“Have it tested for bodily fluids. We might come away with sweat transfer.” Jack rhymed off the next course of action, but his words stalled with the detective’s smile.
“Already taken care of. Further testing is being done.”
This guy was impressive, but it took more than that to excite Jack.
“When will we have the results?” he asked.
“If anything comes through on them, I will let you know immediately.”
Zachery pushed his plate into the middle of the table. “We’re after a guy who doesn’t have a record. He’s been killing for who knows how long and has never been caught. He’s smart.”
“This confirms, again, that Bowen isn’t our man.” The words came without thought. I was just proud that I had called it before anyone else.
I noticed the deep contemplation in Jack
’s eyes. “What are you thinking?”
Jack looked past me to Zachery.
“You mentioned our killer is smart. Kent Fields went to an Ivy League university.”
“He’s won Pulitzers,” McClellan chimed in.
“We’ll need to find out if he has a truck, or a Nissan, registered to him.”
I hardly pictured Fields cruising around in either one, but who knows. The man struck me as too flashy to have a pickup or a compact sedan. The only thing that would fit in the scenario was the color red. It would get noticed.
The detective picked up his phone and made the request.
Watching him, I realized something.
“I’m doubting the intelligence aspect.”
Everyone turned to me.
“Think of it. He shows up to kidnap Ellis in a bright red car? Why not something more subdued?”
Paige was the first to nod.
“Maybe our killer is a person of limited means?” Zachery said.
“Limited means? It was a newer model, remember, and he has at least two vehicles. I can barely afford one.”
“Hmm.”
Paige laughed.
“So we’re looking for a dumb, rich guy?”
“Why not? There are few of those.”
“Is he too narcissistic to think that anyone would point him out?”
Zachery shook his head.
“No. It would be just the opposite. He’d believe everyone is paying attention to him, and if they were not, they should be.”
“So he’s wanting to get stopped? Still, the color red for a vehicle used to kidnap someone. In broad daylight? That’s pretty brazen.”
McClellan hung up his cell, grinning as if the results were going to burst out of him.
“Kent Fields owns a truck.”
“What about a car?” Jack asked.
The detective
’s face fell. “Yes, a Mercedes.”
“The car could have been a rental.” Paige brushed the crumbs from her hands onto her plate.
Jack snapped his fingers and pointed at her.
“You go with Zachery to visit that girl right now. We’re going to get Fields’s prints.”
McClellan laughed softly. “You think he’s just going to hand them over?”