THE MISSINGS (Aspen Falls Thrillers Book 2) Read online

  About THE MISSINGS

  Aspen Falls, Colorado.

  Secrets.

  Secrets within a community.

  Secrets within a family.

  Detective Chase Waters finds himself working the most interesting case of his career—one that comes closer to home than he could ever imagine.

  Are the mutilated bodies of young men and women the result of cult… or commerce?

  Early Praise for THE MISSINGS

  "A compelling, complex and emotionally connected story! The tension kept building and I couldn't stop reading. Well done!" — L.J. Sellers, author of the bestselling Detective Jackson series.

  "No sophomoric slump here after Ms. Brantley's first successful outing—RED TIDE….Another 'unputdownable'." — Jack Quick, Reviewer

  Praise for RED TIDE

  (You can read the first few chapters of RED TIDE at the end of

  THE MISSINGS)

  “For fans of the serial killer genre, RED TIDE is an engaging, well plotted story with characters you won’t forget. — L.J. Sellers, author of the bestselling Detective Jackson series.

  “The characters were engaging and as the stakes kept rising, I worried about them as if they were old friends….Brantley manages to cover a lot of ground and gives her characters depth and complexity.” — Jaden Terrell, author of RACING THE DEVIL and A CUP FULL OF MIDNIGHT

  “This book will go a long way in introducing Brantley to readers as a force to be reckoned with in the thriller/mystery niche.” — The Dirty Lowdown, Blogcritics.org

  “Just enough technical stuff to show Ms. Brantley has done her homework but not enough to take you out of the story….Definitely ‘unputdownable.’— Jack Quick, Reviewer

  “The main characters… have a good balance of haunted flaws and gutsy strengths, and the plot involves a lot of danger and risk…” — Kingdom Books, Mysteries-Classic to Cutting Edge

  “The text is fast-paced and sharp, which will appeal to thriller readers. Colorado comes through in this story, much as it does in Diane Mott Davidson’s beloved ‘Goldy’ series”— An Amazon Reviewer

  “Hard to believe that RED TIDE is Peg Brantley’s first book. The story grabs you from the first page and holds your attention throughout.” — An Amazon Reviewer

  “[A] fast-paced, easy read that is well-written and well-researched, with a cracking good story that satisfies on many levels…” — An Amazon Reviewer

  “Peg Brantley’s RED TIDE… depicts strained but vital family relationships.”— Confessions of a Mystery Novelist…

  THE MISSINGS

  Copyright © 2012 by Peg Brantley

  All rights reserved. Except for text references by reviewers, the reproduction of this work in any form is forbidden without permission from the author. Readers who have purchased this book are invited to catalogue, utilize conversion software such as Calibre, or back this work up in any manner that will affored them a more personal reading experience, remembering that the author sweat blood, money, time and tears to make this happen.

  ISBN: Electronic Book Text: 978-0-9853638-2-6

  Paperback: 978-0-9853638-3-3

  Published in the United States of America by Bark Publishing, LLC

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual people, locations, or events is coincidental or fictionalized.

  Edited by Jodie Renner at

  http://www.jodierennerediting.com

  Cover Design by Patty G. Henderson at Boulevard Photografica, http://www.boulevardphotografica.yolasite.com

  Ebook conversion by Liber Writer at http://www.liberwriter.com

  To George, Love of My Life, you patiently ate dinner

  alone while I worked,

  or stood ready to help me find the right word…

  you are deeply and truly my most important reader.

  I hope you like this new story.

  And yes, it’s done-done.

  THE MISSINGS

  by

  PEG BRANTLEY

  “Recognize yourself

  in he and she

  who are not like

  you and me.”

  –Carlos Fuentes

  Chapter One

  Main Street, 400 Block

  Wednesday, September 19

  Senior Detective Chase Waters pulled his car up to the alley. Crime-scene tape stretched like flexible neon ribbon across the entrance, popping in and out of the light from his headlights. The shadow of the tape bounced against the snow in a sort of bizarre striptease, with falling snowflakes adding a glittering special effect to the surreal setting. Chase hoped the uniforms who confirmed a body in the dumpster hadn’t messed up the scene.

  He’d know in a minute.

  Chase pulled on latex gloves and cloth booties and climbed out of his car. His evidence bag over a shoulder, camera in hand, he dipped his long frame under the tape. About two inches of fresh snow made him slip, and he wondered if the old rubber-band-over-the-soles trick would have been a wiser move. Only September, and the snowfall held promise of another record Colorado ski season. It didn’t, however, do much for his footing at this hour of the morning, when he could have been lying in his warm bed next to the woman he loved.

  The Crime Scene Unit van puffed exhaust at the other end of the alley. A door opened at the end of the CSU vehicle, and he saw Akila move with cautious deliberation down the steps, carefully holding a pan in front of her. The pan billowed steam from its heated contents. Chase thanked the heavens that his case had drawn Akila Copeland from the crime unit. Known by other detectives, district attorneys, and more importantly, judges, as one of the most meticulous Crime Scene Investigators in the area, Akila made him feel a little better about being out here in the early morning hours processing a scene.

  “Hey, Chase. We got lucky. The uniforms were careful and approached the dumpster from the sheltered side next to the building. We have a couple of really great footprints in the snow from the alley. Plus some tire tracks.”

  “You need any help?”

  “I could use your assistance for this last cast. It’s in an awkward place and looks like it’ll be the best one for this set of prints.”

  “How many prints?”

  “Two distinct sets. If you get their footwear we’ll have some cool evidence.”

  “Too bad there isn’t contact information on the sole of every shoe.”

  “You mean like an owner’s code? One day, my detective friend, one day. I sort of hope I’m not around to see it, though—too much Big Brother for my taste.” Akila laughed and led him to the far end of the dumpster where a clear footprint was formed in the snow halfway under the metal container.

  As the two bent to pour the hot sulfur into the print, Chase worried about the fragile nature of sulfur casts. He knew that, surprisingly, the snow wouldn’t melt when the liquefied sulfur hit it, but the resulting beautifully detailed impressions were like sandstone—one false move and all of the beautiful evidence could crumble into a thousand pieces.

  “Don’t worry.” Akila read his mind. “I’ve got plenty of photos from all angles. We’re good to go. There’s just this print in this impossible place I’d really like to capture. And as long as we can keep the casts together, we’ve got perfect 3-D evidence.”

  “You must’ve gotten here fast.” Usually Chase had to wait for the CSU van—if it was available at all.

  “I just got back into town from Snowmass when the call came in.”

  “Snowmass? Did someone lose their platinum ring again?” Last summer a woman vacationing in Snowmass had called demanding every depart
ment in the area provide a full effort to find her half-million-dollar platinum ring. That included the CSU van.

  “Actually, something completely different demanded our attention tonight—a dog and pony show for the brass and politicos. Some Hollywood production team is in the area to film some mountain scenes and wanted to get an authentic feel for a crime-scene vehicle. Some asshole volunteered me. I figure they needed to show another ‘face’ of our fine mountain community.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope. This fine African-American skin of mine is more than just something to hold my brain in. Not only did I get overtime, but I got two offers to test for a walk-on role.”

  “All right! Why so late?”

  “My shift didn’t end until eleven. And they didn’t want us out there until eleven-thirty. Something about a late dinner and entertainment. Hey, I wasn’t complaining. I can use the money.”

  Ten minutes after pouring the sulfur into the impression, the CSI carefully pulled up the cast. She flashed a smile at Chase. “Perfect. I knew this was the best one, but because of its position under the dumpster I couldn’t get all the photo angles I wanted.”

  Time for the body. Chase worked to move his mind toward a professional and pragmatic place. It was important to work toward justice for each victim, and while observing a body whose life had been taken by force made him angry and depressed, he needed to trump those emotions. He needed to let the dead body begin to tell its story.

  He cranked his neck. “Did you get photos of the DB?”

  “Yeah, but you’ll want to get your own. Jax is on her way.”

  “Great.” They were lucky to have a medical examiner as good as Jacqueline Taylor based right here in Aspen Falls.

  “Anything interesting?” Chase asked, as he moved toward the dumpster with his camera.

  Akila stopped and looked directly at him, her expression somber. “You have no idea.”

  Chapter Two

  Main Street, 400 Block

  Wednesday, September 19

  Chase shook off the creepy-crawlies Akila’s words carved into the night. They’d worked a lot of cases together, and for her to tell him he had no idea what to expect didn’t bode well.

  He directed his flashlight into the dumpster. At first he wasn’t able to spot the body. The Pearls of the Ocean Chinese Restaurant had enjoyed a busy Tuesday night. They were supposed to bag their garbage but it looked like the kitchen help must have been in a hurry and just dumped everything. Then he saw it. The carved-up and mutilated corpse lay in bizarre repose among the detritus of bok choy and egg foo young. Chase fought a wave of nausea and wondered if he’d ever be able to enjoy Chinese food again.

  At first glance, the body looked like a badly carved-up side of beef. Huge, vacuous, gaping holes were where he might have expected critical wounds, if not solid pieces of intact flesh. The body cavity was laid open from the groin to the neck. Skin hung loosely around broken and missing ribs. Chase stepped away from the dumpster and fought to keep his professional composure.

  Akila was watching him. “Don’t feel bad. If you think you’re going to hurl, you can add yours to mine—around the corner. Just get there in time. I don’t need your reaction to mix with whatever evidence might still be here for me to uncover.”

  Chase swallowed, took a breath and looked around. The clear places in the snow. Only those few prints—tire prints in the alley, shoe prints around the dumping place. The obvious lack of blood evidence. There hadn’t been a struggle—not here. “This isn’t the scene of the crime.”

  Akila shook her head. “Nope.”

  Chase leaned deeper into the trash container while speaking into his cell phone recorder app. Later, he’d be able to make sure he didn’t miss any details in his notes. “Male. Nude. No clothing in evidence. No visible identifying scars or tattoos. Most of his upper torso has been cut out. Looks surgical, not like some animal. A knife did this. Someone who knew what they were doing.” He made the comments more for himself. The CSI would have already seen everything.

  “His face is intact. Young. Looks Hispanic, or some kind of Latino origin.” Chase thought about the relatively large undocumented population of illegal Mexicans living in Aspen Falls. He also thought about his other new case. A Hispanic male—no ID—found on a hiking trail. The kid hadn’t been carved up like this one, so other than sex, age and race, there didn’t appear to be a connection. No information, regardless of the queries he’d put out there, had come in. They were still waiting on autopsy results.

  A hand shoved him gently away. He turned to see Jax Taylor. “Hey, Chase. Let me get to my body, will ya? I’m dead on my feet and I don’t need you taking up one more second of the sleep I’m gonna get back to when this night—strike that, early morning—is over.” She held a pen and a notepad in one hand and carried a flashlight in the other. A camera hung around her neck.

  The medical examiner looked into the dumpster and uttered something Chase couldn’t quite make out. But he understood exactly what Jacqueline Taylor had said.

  She turned to Chase. “Without a liver—or much else, for that matter—TOD is gonna be a problem.”

  This case had just begun and already it was going downhill.

  Chase stood back and let the ME get to work. He turned to Akila. “Where are the uniforms?” He had some questions for them.

  Akila nodded past the CSU van. “Kirk Wheatley caught the call.”

  Chase felt better about the support he’d lucked into. Wheatley had enough experience and street smarts to keep from messing up the evidence.

  He headed over to the patrol car and looked in the window. Kirk was filling out his report, using the computer to diagram the scene. Chase knocked on the passenger window and the officer waved him in.

  Chase climbed in to the passenger seat. “Hey, Kirk. How did you draw this shift?”

  “I’m kind of baching it since my wife left me. I figured I could build up some points if I want some time off later—or need a favor.”

  Chase nodded. Personal relationships were tough to maintain in this line of work. He’d been lucky with Bond, but they still had to navigate rough terrain from time to time. “Sorry to hear about the breakup.”

  Kirk shrugged his shoulders. “Bound to happen sooner or later.”

  “Who called in the DB?” Chase asked. He didn’t mention the pristine crime scene. Professionals expected nothing less.

  “Skizzers.”

  Chase sighed. Skizzers was a doper. Townspeople provided him with food, and in bad weather, a warm corner in a heated garage. But as careful as they were not to give the Vietnam veteran money, no one had quite figured out that by giving him food and shelter, he could parlay his disability check into whatever street products he could find.

  “Shit. Skizzers.”

  “Yep. Said that two giant bats swooped in with their Batmobile. Morphed into vampires and one of them split in two, leaving half of itself in the dumpster—which, for some reason, he referred to as a gift box.”

  “Someone listened to him?” Chase couldn’t believe a call like that had been taken seriously.

  “Not until he got specific about the location, and lucid for long enough to state the fact that two men had dumped a body, and we’d ‘better, by God, check it out.’”

  “Did he get a license number?” Yeah, right. Like that would ever happen.

  “Nope, but we’ve got a BOLO for the Batmobile.”

  “Video surveillance?”

  “A couple of cameras. That doesn’t necessarily mean they’re working cameras. Or that they taped anything we can use.”

  “We’ll check the local businesses tomorrow morning.” Chase looked at his watch. Four-fifteen. “I mean, later this morning.” He needed to get his notes in order and try to catch an hour or two of sleep.

  Chase got out and walked up to where Jax and Akila continued to work both the scene and the body. Akila stood inside the dumpster and looked almost comical decked out in baby bl
ue protective gear. She rose to her full height and tugged down her face mask. “I should have taken the walk-on offers. This stinks. Literally.”

  “Good, you’re here,” Jax mumbled after glancing in his direction. “I’m ready to secure the victim and could use your help. Akila requested uniform assistance to bag the garbage and haul it to the crime lab, but she could use some muscle now to haul the body out.”

  Chase donned protective gear, like it would do any good, and jumped in the dumpster with Akila. “Shit.”

  “Welcome to my world.”

  The two of them struggled and slipped in the slime to place the body in the bag. Chase fell twice, in awe of Akila’s more sure footage, but stayed on his game. With Jax’s help on the outside of the dumpster, they got the body out intact and ready to roll.

  Before he could offer his assistance, Akila put a leg up over the edge of the dumpster and dropped to the ground, covered to her knees in unidentifiable lab specimens. Chase elected to wait a few minutes until he could make the jump out of the dumpster without an audience. His bad knees and questionable back made him more of a target by co-workers than he liked. He also wondered if he could strip down to his skivvies and trash the rest of his clothes so Bond wouldn’t have to deal with them. He didn’t want to show up in their home with pants slimed with unidentifiable goo and bacteria.

  One thing at a time.

  He wondered if this body had anything to do with the other John Doe on the books. Bad things happen everywhere, even in the idyllic Colorado mountain town of Aspen Falls.

  But really bad things, especially here, tended to be connected.

  Chapter Three

  Aspen Falls Police Department

  Wednesday, September 19

  After he put his notes together into a Word document, Chase went home and fell into bed. An hour later—it felt like ten minutes—he got up, shaved, showered and poured himself a cup of French roast. It didn’t have the desired effect. Maybe he should try mainlining it.