The Killer in Me Page 15

  Lila winced.

  “Too soon?”

  “Sheriff, if I may, send Meyer with me. He needs the experience, and . . .”

  “And Fontaine probably isn’t over how you ditched him yesterday. I completely understand. You’re right, Deputy Meyer is a good choice.” Benoit reached for the slips. “Are the reports sufficient for you?”

  “More than enough.” Lila stepped closer to the desk. “One more thing.”

  Looking up, Benoit met her gaze, a single eyebrow lifted.

  “Do we have access to ATVs?”

  The sheriff cocked her head. “ATVs? Why do you need one?”

  “To follow that trail behind the Barrett place.”

  “I see. I’m not aware that we have access to any for department use, but I’m sure Fontaine can rustle up something to use. Give me the morning to get that figured out.”

  “That’ll do.”

  There was a light rap on the doorframe.

  Deputy Meyer hooked his thumbs in this duty belt. “Orders for the day, Sheriff?”

  “You’ll be with Deputy Dayne today. If things change, I’ll have Georgia radio you.”

  Meyer nodded, his eyes flicking to Lila. She flashed him a grin. “You drive, rookie.”

  He frowned, following her. “You’re the new deputy. That makes you the rookie.”

  Benoit’s laughter echoed behind them. Meyer’s candor was much appreciated, elevating Lila’s mood. He sounded like a younger version of Cecil.

  “Meyer, I’ve got ten-plus years of law enforcement over you. I did my rookie tour on the mean streets of the Windy City while you were chasing girls in middle school.”

  “You’re not that much older than me,” he grumbled.

  “Fine, high school.” She gripped his shoulder. “Don’t worry, the shiny chrome will tarnish and no one will notice.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Elizabeth eyeballed the top phone message. Pratt Meyer wanted to set up an appointment to meet with her. Today. She didn’t want an appointment with Pratt. In fact, she wasn’t all too thrilled with the town council meeting this evening—she had not been able to fine-tune the budget due to the uptick in unexplainable homicides.

  Ahh, the joys of politics and administrative duties as sheriff. Well, Elizabeth had handled the internal workings of the army’s good ole boy network and the spouses who wielded their soldiers’ rank as a battering ram. Small-town politics were a cakewalk in comparison. Yet, she recalled many a Juniper church potluck that would make even the highest-ranking officer duck for cover from the barrage of verbal mortar rounds.

  Too bad she didn’t have a believable excuse to get her out of talking with Pratt.

  But wait. Maybe she did. Elizabeth rocked back in her chair and lifted her gaze to the ceiling. Someone should talk with the Wagners again, see if they had any clues that could point the investigation into their daughter’s death toward her killer. And Elizabeth should get permission from the school principal and or the superintendent about speaking with students. Over the years in her capacity as a family liaison and as a teenager herself, Elizabeth had learned one solid lesson: if you wanted the truth about the goings-on in any community, rural or military, you asked the teenagers. There was always more truth than rumor in the things students whispered among themselves. Despite what most adults thought, kids were on the front lines, and they saw more than any parent wished they would.

  A firm rap on her door rocked Elizabeth forward. Just the man she wanted to see.

  Rafe crossed his arms and leaned into the doorframe. “She didn’t throw in the towel?”

  Elizabeth shook her head and tossed aside the pink message slips. “Don’t be hard on her. She’s got the bull by the horn on this one and isn’t sure how to start the dance.”

  “Still think it’s a bad idea.”

  “And that’s why you’re a deputy and I’m the sheriff.”

  Snorting, he pushed off the frame, entering her domain. “Have any special orders for me today?”

  She gestured for him to close the door. Once they were sequestered, she relaxed in her chair. “Know anyone who would be willing to let us borrow some four-wheelers or side-by-sides?”

  Rafe narrowed his eyes. “Maybe. Why?”

  “Dayne wants to check out those trails behind the Barrett place. We noticed tracks leading from the house into the timber, probably the escape route of whoever took those girls there.”

  “Horses would be better back there than ATVs.”

  “Do you see our intrepid investigator from Chicago on the back of a horse?”

  “Then maybe you and I should go, not her.”

  “I can’t today.”

  Rafe tilted his head to the side. “I’ll take Lundquist.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Since the two of you switched shifts, he’s sleeping.”

  “I know that place like the back of my hand. You can’t get everywhere by four wheels.”

  “But someone or two someones did.” She vacated her chair and wandered to the front of her desk. “Rafe, she’s not comfortable with you after what happened yesterday. Brent knows the timber well enough for the two of them to check it out. Just get access to the vehicles, and we’ll go from there.”

  “I should be there.”

  “Why is it so important for you to be there?”

  “That’s family property, remember.”

  “Do you have the authority to give permission for us to look?”

  His eyes narrowed. “You know the answer to that.”

  “Then don’t act like you’re the keeper of all things Barrett. Ma will be informed, and I’m certain she’ll give access.”

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  Elizabeth reached behind her and grabbed up a notepad and pen. “She’ll give access.” Scrawling instructions on the top sheet, she ripped it off the pad and held it out to Rafe. “I have a special assignment for you.”

  He took the notepaper and read her orders. “What the hell?” He shook the page. “You want me to poke around in Ma’s affairs? My own cousin and her family?”

  “You’ve never liked her.” Elizabeth returned to her place behind her desk. “That should make it easy for you to pry.”

  “Whether I like her or not, it doesn’t seem right. What do you hope to accomplish with this, other than putting me on her bad side?”

  “She paid me a visit last night, and some of the things she said and didn’t say have me wondering. Fitzgerald told us Daniel had run afoul of the law and Sheehan did nothing about it. Why?” She pointed at Rafe. “You and I both know Sheehan has always been up to no good, but what we don’t know is with whom and what it is. Maybe Ma and he have a pact, a little ‘you scratch my back I scratch yours.’”

  “That’s reaching, Ellie. I don’t deny that Sheehan has things to hide. But Ma? Really? What could she possibly be involved with that would let her have any sway over Sheehan to get him to look the other way?”

  Elizabeth stared at Rafe, hoping he’d catch the scent of the trail she was leaving. He did.

  “You think she knew about the drugs and what Daniel was up to?”

  “I think it was more than knew. I think she’s the one pulling the strings behind it.”

  “Are you drunk? Because that’s the only explanation I have for you to even think that.”

  She crossed her arms. “You’re starting to sound like Joel.”

  Rafe glared, crumpling the note. “Low blow.”

  “I call it like I see it. This isn’t a mission behind enemy lines. All you need to do is dig through any files and reports Sheehan had and further back if you must to see if there are things that line up with Ma, Henry, or anyone in the Kauffmann family. Go as far back as you can.”

  “And if I find something?”

  “Then you tell me right away. Not a word of this gets to anyone else. You work alone on this. Understood?”

  Rafe cupped the back of his neck and sighed. “I don’t see what this has to do with our m
urders.”

  “We’ve got blood evidence in the Barrett place that points to one or both of those girls being there. Maya Wagner was left at a place where Daniel Kauffmann was caught with drugs. And the field belongs to Sophie Meyer, the wife of a longtime antagonist to the Kauffmann clan. A feud of which Ma reminded me of last night, and a thing I thought had long burned out.” Elizabeth let her arms fall to her sides. “Something is up with these murders and her family. What? I want to know.”

  “You think Sheehan is connected somehow?”

  “That one, I’m not sure about.”

  “What about Ma’s insistence that Daniel’s death wasn’t accidental?” Rafe asked.

  “Two birds, one stone. While you’re dusting off the archives, see if Sheehan was careless enough to leave something behind about that. From what I’ve been able to learn, everything was done properly and all involved came to the same conclusion. I need to give her a dog bone because I’m tired of her riding my ass about it.”

  He gave her a nod and turned to the door. Elizabeth watched him exit, leaving the door open. Georgia spun her chair, phone pressed to her ear, and held up two fingers. Acknowledging the message, Elizabeth grabbed up her phone and punched the red blinking line two.

  “Sheriff Benoit.”

  “Sheriff, Pratt Meyer.”

  Elizabeth tensed. Looked like she wasn’t going to get away with not calling him back.

  *

  Dark gray, heavy clouds built in the sky, towering over the sporadic farm buildings. Snow, the radio weatherman predicted.

  Beside her, Meyer tapped out a rhythm on the steering wheel only he seemed to understand. Lila dragged her gaze from the glass and peered at her new partner. He twitched, ceased his drumming, and glanced at her.

  “Am I bothering you?”

  Lila shifted in her seat to face him better. “Brent, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Brent, I’m not bothered. I just have one question for you. Why?”

  He frowned, slowing the squad car for the turn onto the road leading to Three Points. “Why what?”

  “Why are you doing this? Why be a deputy?”

  The talk radio host filled the silence as Meyer completed the turn. Lila let him think over her question. Adjusting his grip on the steering wheel, he tilted his head to the side.

  “I always had a desire to help. It just grew into this urge to be something different than what I was raised in.”

  “And how was that?”

  The Three Points sign flashed past. Meyer chanced another glance at her.

  “The sheriff didn’t tell you?”

  “Sheriff Benoit isn’t the type to just blurt out the gossip on all of her deputies.”

  He shrugged. “True.”

  The car slowed as they breached the first row of residential homes. Having been here only once before, Lila was glad things were looking familiar to her.

  “My father is Pratt Meyer. If you do a quick internet search, you’ll learn all you need to about that man. My mother is Sophie Fontaine-Barrett-Meyer.”

  Lila jerked. “No shit?”

  “Yeah. She doesn’t like to broadcast it much.”

  Sitting back in her seat, Lila let his revelation sink in. “Is everyone related to everyone around here?”

  “Kinda sorta. If your family or families lived here long enough it gets to be a thing. And in some cases, a problem.”

  “In what ways?”

  “I’ll use my family for example. The Meyers and the Kauffmanns have hated each other since the moment they settled here. I think it started out as a Catholic versus Protestant ordeal. No one can really remember why, but why give up a good feud?”

  “What about the sheriff’s family?”

  “Outsiders.” Brent smiled. “Geesh! The Benoit family has lived here since before World War I, I think, and people still act like they just moved here.”

  Lila frowned. “Outsiders? That’s not what Georgia was telling me this morning, she said the sheriff isn’t an outsider, that’s why she was so easily elected and people accept her.”

  “There are exceptions to the rule. She married into a long-standing family and that’s how everyone sees her.”

  “But they’re divorced.”

  “And she and Rafe have been dancing around each other for years. She’s one of our own. That and people really do like her.”

  Lila huffed. “Explains why Mrs. McKinnley barely tolerated me, yet Sheriff Benoit had her feeding out of her hand.”

  Shrugging, Brent turned onto the street leading to the McKinnley home. “You have to understand one thing about Eckardt County and the towns of Juniper and Three Points. There are those who can trace their ancestry back to the founding of this state. And then there are those who came after.”

  “And yet, you’re related in one way or another,” Lila said. “How close is your mother to Deputy Fontaine?”

  “They’re second or third cousins, I forget how. Mom is actually closer in relation to Martha ‘Ma’ Kauffmann.”

  “Isn’t she the last living Barrett, the one who owns that place where I found the blood?”

  “Not the last living Barrett, just the last of her particular family line. When she married Henry Kauffmann, her father disowned her.”

  Brent slowed the squad car and nosed into the driveway.

  “You said your family and the Kauffmanns hate each other. Isn’t it better now that there is a relation married to one?”

  He grunted. “It’s worse now. I think it has more to do with the fact that my father is wealthy and the Kauffmanns aren’t any better off than when they bought their first plot of farmland.”

  Parking the car, he cut the engine. Lila found a handheld radio and prepared to exit the car, while Meyer called in their location.

  “Why are we here?” he asked, opening his door.

  “I have some lingering questions for Mrs. McKinnley I need cleared up. Just catch me on any social faux pas I have. Me being an outsider and all.”

  “She’s not as bad as most. It’s that strict rule of thumb she had as a teacher to not tolerate ignorance.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Lila quietly groaned as she exited the car. Her body had healed from her crash through the floor days before, but her muscles were still not happy with her. She hooked the radio to her duty belt and zipped her coat.

  Together, they closed the unit’s doors and headed up the drive. A cutting wind plowed through the yard, pelting Lila with shards of ice. The snow had arrived. She hunkered inside her coat, glad she’d chosen to wear this instead of the jacket like the day before. Welcome to the Midwest, the land of “If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes. It’ll change.”

  The wind rushed headlong before them, buffeting the house with force. Lila froze when she spotted movement coming from the front entrance. Her hand shot out and grabbed Brent’s elbow, her other hand going to her sidearm, unsnapping the holster strap.

  “Something’s not right,” she hissed. Unholstering her weapon, she lowered the gun against her thigh and stepped ahead of him. “Call it in.”

  As he radioed Georgia, Lila inched up the remainder of the driveway, watching the door creep back into a position that made it look closed. The wind whipped her hair into her eyes. Swiping it back from her face, a futile effort, she hesitated at the bottom step.

  She would not fail. Not this time.

  He touched her arm. “Backup is on the way.”

  “Who?”

  “Fontaine.”

  “What did you call it in as?”

  The door glided open.

  “I didn’t call it anything,” Meyer said, his voice tense. “Just said to have someone come out.”

  It would take Fontaine every bit of fifteen or more minutes to get here. Lila didn’t know if there was time to wait.

  “Go around back. She had a patio door. Look for any forced entry or if someone is here.” Lila pointed the opposite direction. “I’ll
check out the garage and the right side of the house, then come back.”

  Nodding, he started to walk off.

  “Meyer, give me some kind of heads-up either way.”

  “Copy.” Off he went.

  Drawing in a breath, Lila headed in the opposite direction, sidestepping the lawn ornaments and dormant gardens, every few steps glancing back over her shoulder to make sure no one came to the front door. The garage had no windows or a way to see inside, but for the most part it appeared to be shut up tight. Once she cleared the side of the house, seeing nothing suspicious, she returned to the entrance.

  “Dayne,” Meyer hailed her.

  She grabbed the radio from her hip and, hauling it up, she pressed the button. “Got anything?”

  “Nothing. The drapes are drawn, but there’s a light on over the sink. Window is too high up for me to see in.”

  Maybe Mrs. McKinnley was still in bed? Why would she leave her front door open?

  “Are the patio doors locked?”

  “Yes,” Meyer said after a moment.

  Best way to enter this odd situation was to leave him back there protecting the exits. Lila didn’t like that idea when she was only one person at the front. She gnawed on her lip. No way was she entering an uncertain situation without someone covering her backside.

  She keyed the radio. “Meyer, come back.”

  Waiting for him to return, she called on the calming techniques she’d learned to keep from losing it completely. When Meyer joined her, she had a handle on her state of mind, ready to face the situation before her.

  Lila stared hard at the free-swinging door. No sign of forced entry. But Neva McKinnley did not cross Lila as someone who just left her doors open.

  “What do you want to do?” Meyer asked.

  Throw up, that’s what she wanted to do. Instincts screamed something was wrong here. But an unlatched door didn’t prove what her frayed nerves were warning.

  She peeked at Meyer. He had not drawn his gun. She looked down at her hand, her grip tight on the butt, so tight her knuckles were white. What was she doing? This situation did not warrant for her to have her gun out. Damn it, yes it did. What was wrong with her? She could not be second-guessing every situation.