Traces of Guilt

  The sheriff would walk in at some point this afternoon, probably with his father and a deputy or two, and Evie would like to have something on the walls so she could avoid eye contact with Gabriel. She would need his help—no one knew these cases better than the local cops—but she still wished she’d been able to say a normal hello to the man before she’d wrecked her car and became a babbling idiot.

  This experiment of looking at cold cases needed to go smoothly, hopefully be successful. She sincerely hoped the way she’d arrived on scene was not a precursor to the rest of her time in Carin.

  The next few weeks would set the tone for her place on the task force, and she wanted to bring something positive to the table when it officially launched in January. Sharon Noble was recruiting good, experienced cops. Theodore Lincoln from Chicago and Taylor Aims from St. Louis were already definites. Rumor had it David Marshal was coming back from New York just for this. If Ann continued helping out next year, there wouldn’t be a stronger list of names for the assignments ahead.

  Evie wanted to play a useful role in that group, learn from them, get the experience that only working with great cops could give. She knew the task force on her résumé could cement the rest of her career, be the reason she might make head of the state Bureau of Investigations one day. She wanted a success here so badly it worried her. Normally solving a case was motivation enough. Having her emotions personally tangled in an outcome just made for stupid mistakes. She’d jinx it herself by trying too hard, or caring too much about the impression she was making, miss something because her mind was distracted. “Ann?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Tell me to shut up. I’m thinking too hard.”

  Ann laughed. “The case?”

  “Haven’t even gotten that far yet. I’m still wandering around in task-force stuff. How did I end up getting picked for this? To represent the State Police? Did you put forward my name?”

  “Your boss likely looked around for someone young enough not to care about the long hours without extra pay, tough cases with incomplete records, relentless reporters and public scrutiny, someone who could face explaining to the governor why a case isn’t solved. I’d say your name was likely one of two he considered.”

  “Oh. Why are you doing it?”

  “Because I want to. Why did you say yes?”

  “Because I want it.”

  Ann grinned. “See? We’re simpatico, you and I. Do you want to talk through the Florist case today or the Dayton girl?”

  “I was thinking we’d look at the Dayton case when you get back Tuesday. For now I’d like to take advantage of the initial curiosity about what’s going on to get people talking about the Florist case. Most of the deputies worked the original disappearance, or at least one of the subsequent reviews of the case.”

  Ann nodded. “That makes sense.”

  Evie taped up photos of the Florist family. Scott and Susan Florist, their young son, Joe. A deputy, his wife, and their boy, all three missing. Scott was a good-looking man, his wife’s smile reflected in her eyes, and she looked happy. The boy had a grin full of mischief.

  Evie’s hand traced across the three photos. If she felt her mind wandering to the task force again, to her place on it, she had only to look at the photos to bring herself back to what really mattered. She wanted to find out what had happened to these three people. There was extended family in this town who needed answers. She took a deep breath and felt herself settle in for the duration. This was what she was good at, right here, working a case.

  She found a marker and to the left of the photos drew a long line across the length of the wall. Midpoint she scored the line and wrote down the date of the disappearance. She didn’t know if the answers to the case would be found in the information before or after that date. The trigger for why a crime happened often rested days or weeks before it occurred. The actions of the guilty party after a crime were often just as revealing. Sometimes it was a combination of both that helped her figure out the puzzle.

  She gingerly picked up the first box, her stiff back complaining, and carried it over to a table, took a seat, and began to sort out the contents, looking for information and facts she wanted to highlight on the timeline.

  “Evie,” Ann called over, “the list of open questions—do you want them first thing on the wall as people come and go, or do you want them deeper in the room so someone has to walk past all the gathered facts before they get to the questions being asked?”

  “Deep in the room would be best. I don’t want to have to explain to curious deputy George or family member Flo how come I want the alibi for the sheriff the night the Florist family disappeared.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Too tough?”

  “Nope. Work it hard and work it deep.”

  Evie nodded, kept turning pages in the file. She fully intended to do just that.

  Half an hour later, Evie turned away from adding a date to the timeline, saw the sheriff through the glass just before he pulled open the door, and made a point of sitting back down at the table and pulling over some paperwork, giving it her attention.

  “Hey, Ann,” Gabriel said as the door closed behind him. “I recognize the Dayton case. That wall is already looking useful.”

  “It’s getting there. It’s a simple case for the most part. She was a beautiful child.”

  “That she was.”

  “We need more office supplies—Post-it notes, yellow pads of paper, pens, tape, markers. Where do you recommend I get them?”

  “Tell Iris. Shopping for office supplies makes her day.”

  Ann laughed. “I may tag along with her. A good color variety stack of Post-it notes makes my day too.”

  Evie heard Gabriel crossing the room in her direction and glanced up. He was in uniform, carrying a folder, very much the sheriff with similar appeal today as when she was a young girl thinking uniforms made the man.

  “Hello, Evie.” His opening was friendly, and she heard not a trace of humor about her post-accident demeanor, a point in his favor. He leaned against the table beside her. “How’s the headache?”

  Her head was still painful, and the stitches pulled—not what she wanted to admit. “It’s not aching like it was,” she answered with some caution.

  He smiled, no doubt recognizing the dodge. “We’re bringing in a big cooler that we’ll keep stocked with ice and soda. Consider it a perk of the job and help yourself. The root beer is local and excellent, but if you get tired of it and prefer other types of soda, we won’t razz you that much.”

  She relaxed a touch more, appreciating the one-of-the-guys tone more than she would like to admit. “Thanks for the heads up.”

  “You and I have some business to complete.” He placed papers beside her. “The police report on the deer you hit for your insurance company.”

  She flipped pages, saw photos, winced. “I didn’t remember it being this bad.”

  “You were fortunate to have been able to walk away from it,” he commented, his tone now serious. “Give it a read and sign the last page. You can hand it back when you next see me. You’ve got a nice buck you earned the hard way if you’re interested in venison. Henry hauled it in to be butchered.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll pass. I don’t mind barbecued venison steaks, yet under the circumstances it doesn’t seem quite appropriate. Henry’s welcome to the buck in exchange for his time dealing with it.”

  “I’ll let him know,” Gabriel said. “Your car is at Aaron’s Auto Shop. He can arrange to ship it to the garage of your choice, or he can work with Thomas over at Crane’s Body Shop and get the work done here. I’ll vouch for the fact they know what they’re doing.”

  “If they can fix it within the next two weeks, I’d just as soon get the work done locally. I can get by with a rental.”

  “Aaron thinks about a week plus—I’ll tell him to get started. The place next to Aaron’s is a used-car dealer. Ben will give you a week-by-week rental if only to be able to tell the ne
xt customer, ‘It’s been driven for the last week without the engine having a problem.’ I wouldn’t buy from him because most have been in prior wrecks—he likes to buy very cheap and mark up double, but he’s honest about it. You could pay more at a name-brand rental company if you like, get something without the history, or take a chance with Ben.”

  “You’re steering me towards him.”

  “Well, he’d be a first cousin to the missing Detective Scott Florist.”

  “Ah, then Ben it is.”

  “Thought you might agree.” He held up a set of keys. “For the yellow convertible parked outside. I figured you wouldn’t mind the flash.” She walked over to the window to look at the car. “Consider it another perk for the vacation,” he said behind her. “It didn’t leak oil on the way over here, which is a good sign. Stop by and sign the paperwork with Ben sometime before the end of the week. You’ll be able to angle the conversation over to the case while you’re there.”

  She blinked, laughed. “Thanks. That’s an excellent-looking car.”

  “Sure is. Just FYI—knowing the sheriff isn’t going to get you out of a speeding ticket. We need every fifty bucks we can get for the town’s budget.”

  She pocketed the keys he offered. “I’ll try to remember.”

  “City and county maps,” he said as she returned to the table. He laid them beside the accident paperwork. “Don’t get lost. There’s a GPS in the car, but I wouldn’t trust it for the back county roads.”

  “Okay.”

  “Your dogs are fine with Will. He’d like to keep them another few days, if that works for you, to make sure their bruises are fully healed. I marked his place on the map.”

  “I spoke with him earlier today. I’m grateful to him. I just hope they haven’t already changed loyalties.”

  He chuckled. “Will likes to tend things.” He pulled a phone out of his shirt pocket. “I brought you a spare office phone. We’ll spot you some minutes in return for your time on our cases. It’s GPS-tagged so I can always find you. It will get you through until you can get yours replaced.”

  She turned the phone over, saw the number taped on the back. “Very useful. I’ve been borrowing Ann’s.”

  He set another sheet of paper on the table. “Phone numbers you might need. Local stuff, Florist family relatives. Speed Dial One gets you me. Two is Josh. Three for Will. If we can’t answer a question for you, we’ll know who around here can.”

  “Why are you being so helpful?”

  “I’ve decided I like you,” he said lightly. “Maybe it’s the green eyes.”

  She didn’t reply. He spun car keys around his finger and turned toward the door. “I’ll be back in about an hour. You want to start by talking through the Florist case?”

  “Yes.”

  “Honey cashew chicken for dinner or beef fried rice?”

  “Both.”

  “I’ll bring enough to feed Dad too should he wander in. Let him know.” He disappeared out the door.

  Evie picked up the last thing he had left on the table. A roll of sweet-tarts. She thoughtfully opened the end of the roll and slipped one out.

  “And you were worried about first impressions because . . . ?”

  “Shut up, Ann.”

  Ann laughed and settled on the chair across from her, held out her hand. Evie passed over the candy. “Was that normal Gabriel Thane?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I think I can turn down the heat in this place. He must have been born flirting with his nurses.”

  “He does have that effect,” Ann agreed.

  “Think he killed the Florist family?”

  “I think you can mark him off the list. I wouldn’t assume the same for his deputies.”

  Evie looked across at Ann. “Ouch.”

  “Look hard and look deep,” Ann repeated.

  “Yeah.” Evie slipped another sweet-tart from the roll. “I see why you like the Thane brothers. Josh is the one I haven’t met yet, but from what you’ve said, he sounds like a nice guy too.”

  “He’s more laid-back than Gabriel and Will, probably goes with being the youngest.” Ann glanced at the time. “I’m going to head back to Chicago earlier than planned if you think you’ll be all right on your own here.”

  Evie smiled. “I’ll be fine—thanks for all the help, Ann, getting me this far.”

  “No problem. I’ll be here early Tuesday morning. If you solve either case while I’m gone, I’ll buy the hot fudge sundae.”

  Evie nodded in appreciation of the subtle encouragement. “An excellent motivator. Call me when you land so I know you’re safely home.”

  “Will do.”

  Ann collected her jacket and briefcase and headed out.

  Evie had the post-office building to herself. She tapped her foot on the cement floor and heard the echo. She wrote radio at the top of her to-do list.

  She walked over and locked the door, then turned to the mostly blank crime wall she was filling and looked at the neatly stacked boxes waiting for her. “Okay, Florist family. What do you have to tell me?” She carried another box over to the table, pulled out her chair, and opened the top folder.

  She finally felt as though the chaos of her arrival was ending and life was getting back to normal. She had a case to work. That felt really, really good.

  FIVE

  Gabriel Thane

  The post office lights were on, but Ann’s rental car was gone. The yellow convertible still sat on the street where Gabriel had parked it. He tapped on the door glass, pleased to see Evie had locked herself in.

  Evie came over to unlock the door. “Dinner,” he said by way of a casual greeting, nodding to the two sacks he carried. “Sorry I’m later than I intended.”

  “No problem. How about over there?” She pointed to a free table.

  “Ann get away okay?”

  “Yes. She’ll call when she’s home.”

  He unpacked the disposable plates and utensils he’d brought and set out the meal. Ann’s wall was mostly as he had seen it earlier, while Evie’s wall had grown considerably in details. “You’ve been busy.”

  “First day game plan—get set up.”

  “What’s day two?”

  “Shove case details in my mind until they leak out.”

  Gabriel smiled at Evie’s description. He began to walk through the Florist crime wall, reviewing the photos, the timeline. He paused at the end to review her list of questions. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or impressed,” he said, “that you want my alibi for the night they went missing.” She’s not messing around.

  “Someone in the department. Someone in the county. Maybe job-related—a person Florist arrested. Or it was a family thing.”

  Gabriel knew he was a good cop, thought of himself that way, but she said it so casually. Someone in the department . . . Or it was a family thing. It felt hard to breathe.

  He turned toward her and found her watching him steadily. He pushed his hands into his back pockets. “You’re right. But those aren’t casual categories.”

  “Going to get protective, Gabriel?”

  He thought about the missing deputy, his wife and son. He let out a huff of air. “No. You ask your questions. That’s why you’re here.”

  “Was he having an affair? Was she?”

  Gabriel simply grimaced. “I’d say no, but we’ll check it again. You don’t mince words.”

  “I don’t like wasting time. If this was a typical case, it would have been solved by now. In order to discover what someone else didn’t see, I’ve got to come at it from as many hard angles as I can find.”

  This wasn’t going to be a casual look at the case, a simple review of what others had done, but cutting through that work to discover what others had missed. “Evie, I think you’re going to wear the department out over these next couple of weeks.”

  Her eyes glinted with humor. “You’ll all survive me, Gabriel.” She turned back to the table. “Let’s eat.”

 
Gabriel dished out fried rice onto his plate, sampled it, added extra soy sauce. Evie, digging into the honey cashew chicken, asked, “Tell me about the Florist case.”

  He glanced over and was glad to see she’d found her appetite. He gave her the summary from his point of view: “Twelve years ago, the Florist family left their home on a Thursday evening in August for a three-day camping trip with friends. They never arrived. Vanished somewhere between here and the campground located at the north end of Carin Lake, a distance of about thirty miles. Their friends notified the police just after seven o’clock Friday morning when they still hadn’t arrived and calls went unanswered. Police found nothing at the house, found no sign of the truck they were driving or the camper they were towing along the possible routes they might have taken. They simply disappeared—a deputy, his wife, and their eleven-year-old son. A massive search and parallel investigation began, with hundreds of officers involved. It generated no answers to the mystery.”

  “That’s what interests me the most, Gabriel. Three people vanish, and the case remains unsolved. It’s got me more than curious.”

  “Having known them, the words I’d use are sad, mad . . .”

  “Point taken.”

  Gabriel set down his fork, shook his head. “Your objectivity will be an asset, Evie, and I shouldn’t knock it. Most who have worked this case over the years come to it with perspectives of having known one or all three of them, or they know their family members in the area.”

  “I can appreciate this case is personal for all of you,” Evie replied. “I truly don’t mean to sound distant or cold about them. Talk to me about the family. I’d like to know how you remember them.”

  From the years of thinking about this case, Gabriel could recall them as clearly today as when he’d last seen them twelve years ago. “Susan May Florist was a part-time bank teller. She also worked a day a week at the local bakery icing cakes. I’d see her at department picnics, baseball games. She had a nice laugh and a kind heart. She always made a point of asking about the Thanes.” He sipped at his soda, glanced over at the photos on the wall.