THE MISSINGS (Aspen Falls Thrillers Book 2) Read online

  Chase told Daniel to add Hispanic/Latino under each name. Daniel added the word illegal.

  “We don’t know that they were here illegally, Daniel, and there’s no doubt regarding the Benavides family’s status,” Chase said.

  “I have a question,” Terri said while Daniel corrected the board.

  “Shoot.”

  “Why didn’t we know about the two county homicides until now? It’s not like Sheriff Coble to keep stuff to himself.”

  “Coble sent the information. It just didn’t make it through the channels.”

  Daniel glanced up from his muffin, and arched an eyebrow. “Butz?”

  “Yeah,” Chase said.

  Chase watched Daniel’s lips compress into a hard line, but he didn’t say a word about the ignorant racist attitudes of their lieutenant. Instead, the Hispanic detective reached for a marker and stood in front of the column titled MOTIVATION.

  “Are you knuckle-draggers ready?” Daniel asked.

  “We have shit for information,” Terri said, staring at the board.

  “Well then, we’ll start with shit,” Chase said.

  The three detectives shot out a few possible ideas, then fell silent as they considered the list they’d come up with. The possibility of a serial killer seemed to top the list. S/K WHO TARGETS HSPNC/LTNO S/K MEDICAL STUDENT W/A GRUDGE AGAINST HSPNC/LTNO ONE REAL MURDER BURIED BY KILLING OTHERS CULT

  Whenever Chase read the shorthand for serial killer, “S/K” he always said “sicko” to himself. “We’ll leave these up there for a while,” Chase said, “but I don’t think we’re dealing with a textbook serial killer.”

  “Why not?” Terri asked.

  “Couldn’t tell you for sure, but it feels squirrely. For one, there’s not enough time between some of the DBs. Most S/Ks have a little downtime before they need to kill again.”

  “But we’ve got a targeted group,” Terri said.

  “There could be a lot of explanations for why Hispanics seem to be the target.” Chase thought about his visit with Ramona Benavides. “Illegals are not likely to go to the law—for any reason.”

  Terri’s cell phone rang and she checked the Caller ID. “I’ve got to take this.” She left the conference room and closed the door behind her.

  Chase turned to Daniel. “Do you know what’s going on with Terri?”

  “Does anyone ever know what’s going on with Terri?”

  Chase shook his head. Terri Johnson won the prize for enigma in the department. A lot of cops had tried to date her. If she dated any of them—and Chase couldn’t recall one name—they’d gotten to bat one time and not again. No one knew much of anything about her. She did her job and she did it well. You want more? Forget about it with Detective Johnson.

  A new patrol officer walked into the meeting room. “We’ve got the witness—that homeless guy? Patrol found him about thirty minutes ago and brought him in. He’s in the interview room.”

  Chase checked his watch. “Thanks. I’m on my way.”

  He turned to Daniel. “I’ll follow up with the religion angle today. You and Terri go through Rachelle’s cell phone records. Track down every number. We’re looking for names that don’t belong. Finish checking out her computer and copy as much of the profile pages as possible for all of her social network contacts. Call me if you find anything significant. Otherwise, we’ll meet back here at five-fifteen.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Aspen Falls Police Department

  Friday, September 21

  Before walking in to the interview room, Chase took a look at his only witness through the open door. If these cases were connected, which his gut told him they were, then their best piece of evidence at this point rested on notoriously unreliable eyewitness testimony. Their conviction bank sank further by virtue of the condition of the twitching doper in the other room.

  Chase glanced down at the paperwork from patrol. Stephen Hamilton, aka Skizzers, sat in the interview room. The scruffy man, dressed in filthy jeans and what looked like four sweatshirts, fidgeted. He picked at invisible bits on the table with his fingers, kicked his crossed legs and shook his long blond-gray hair away from his face. He bounced one shoulder and then the other into the air, all the while blinking nonstop and then staring at something only he could see in an upper corner of the room. All in the space of seven seconds.

  Shit.

  Chase entered the interview room and introduced himself, reaching out a hand to the homeless man. Stephen “Skizzers” Hamilton froze, visibly processing what had happened and what an appropriate response might be. After some hesitation, he thrust out one of his thin hands. Pride infused his face at the accomplishment.

  Shit.

  Chase decided to begin with something simple. “Where were you last night, Skizzers? We looked for you and couldn’t find you.”

  “Gandalf needed me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Please, ‘tective. You know, Gandalf. I consult with him from time to time.”

  Lord of the Rings. Shit.

  “Plus, the vampires were looking for me. I needed to disappear.”

  Twenty minutes and a bowl of dry cornflakes later, Chase knew Skizzers’ account would never in a million years hold up in court.

  “Skizzers, think carefully. Did either of the two men you saw at the dumpster the night before last see you?” Their eyewitness, their one link to what happened the night before last, shook his head.

  “Nope. They looked in my direction.” A tiny grin played on his lips then disappeared. “Too bad for them. I had already cloaked myself.”

  Skizzers might be certain of his safety but the eyes of Stephen Hamilton were afraid.

  Even though Skizzers’ value to this investigation couldn’t be lower, Chase refused to risk him getting killed. Technically, Chase wouldn’t be questioned if he bounced Skizzers back to the streets and let him take his chances. Morally, Chase couldn’t let that happen. “Is there someone you can stay with for a while? Some place outside of Aspen Falls?”

  The homeless man sat in silence.

  “Anyone?”

  “I have a sister in Basalt.”

  “Do you have a number for her?” Just outside of Aspen, Basalt sounded perfect. In the event Chase needed to get to Skizzers, accessibility would not be prohibitive.

  “Yeah, but I’ll need a ride.”

  “No problem.”

  “Can I get a hamburger on the way?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Aspen Falls Community Church

  Friday, September 21

  Chase had arranged to meet Ed Taylor at the church’s outreach coffee shop. Pastor Taylor’s hours were as bad as his and Chase was lucky to get an appointment this fast. Especially considering Chase hadn’t been to church in months.

  Chase’s shoulders fell as he set the cup of coffee back down on the table. “You’re telling me there are no cults in Aspen Falls.” He’d really hoped for some bit of information that would lead him to the killer or killers—who didn’t show any sign of stopping any time soon. He didn’t like the idea of cults in Aspen Falls. He liked the idea of cults that killed even less. But even less than that? He hated not being able to pull this case together and bring the killers to justice.

  “Not saying that at all. What I am saying is that unless cult activity is impacting someone who attends our church, I may not have any reason to know of their existence. And right now there is no one I know who is in that kind of trouble. That doesn’t mean cults aren’t out there. In fact, I’d be surprised to find out there aren’t any.”

  “Why would that surprise you?”

  “Do you believe in heaven?”

  “From time to time.”

  Taylor laughed. “I hear what you’re saying.”

  “What does that have to do with cults?”

  “In heaven,” Taylor said, “evil does not exist. It does not exist at all. But here on earth? It’s a free-for-all for our souls, and to some, evil is an easier and more a
ttractive way to walk. In the end those people will discover there’s a price to pay. Only a fool would believe he lives in a world—or a country, or a neighborhood—without cults or other such things.”

  “Sounds like you’re saying I should just look around, and my eyes will be opened.”

  “You’re a detective. Your eyes have already been opened to a lot of terrible dark corners of this world and you’ve witnessed the physical results. What I’m saying is that just as there are wonderful things we can’t see or touch while on this earth, there are evil things we can’t see or touch. The cults are here, Chase. If you look for them you’ll find them.”

  “Can you tell me where to begin?”

  “Check out the college. Young people are often ill-prepared when they’re away from home for the first time.” Taylor looked thoughtful. “It’s fertile ground.”

  “College kids and cults. Great. Something more for me to worry about with my own kids.”

  “Good luck to you, Chase.”

  When the two men shook hands, Chase felt the standard clasp morph into a grip. “Will I see you join Bond and your daughters at church this week? I think you’d find it helpful.”

  Not any time soon. “I’ll have to see how this case goes.”

  Chase got back in the car, powered up his tablet, and found the contact information he’d noted for the witch’s coven on campus. A place to start. He called the number and made an appointment with the High Priest.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cobalt Mountain Drug Store

  Friday, September 21

  Stephanie sat in the car, mad. She felt her shoulders tense all up and pinch her neck. She didn’t like all these changes. Not one bit. Just because Angela was older didn’t make Angela right. And no one bothered to ask her how she felt about not having balloons anymore for David’s birthday party.

  Mommy had smiled real big when Angela said she thought the balloons might be bad for birds and things. Maybe even fish if a balloon got in the water. Like that could happen. Stephanie loved the bright balloons and she knew David did too.

  When Mommy decided she wanted to open an antique store everything went poopy, and now Mommy didn’t have time for her. Not for anything. If she could cuss without getting in trouble, she would. What was Mommy thinking?

  And now this whole balloon thing.

  We’re supposed to write something personal to send to David? Burn the paper? Hel-loo. Isn’t that gonna be bad for the air?

  No one had bothered to ask her what she thought about all these changes.

  In the store, Stephanie had decided to put her foot down like that lady duck did on the cartoon last Saturday. She stamped her foot. Again. Louder. “You guys are being pucky, and I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  It didn’t work. So Stephanie crossed her arms. In her head she asked them in a nice voice to stop but maybe outside of her head she yelled it a little. That’s what she must have done. But if they’d been paying attention to her… if they had asked her what she thought about things… then she wouldn’t have had to be so loud.

  “Stephanie Marie Waters.” Uh-oh. Her full name. Mom’s mad voice.

  Her mom handed her the car keys. “You march out to the car right this minute and think about your behavior.”

  Stephanie wanted to tell her mom her behavior was just fine. It was her mom’s behavior that needed fixed. But she figured maybe she should save that for later.

  She stared her mother in the eye, held her hands out, which were holding the special paper to write their special messages on, and opened her fingers wide. The paper plopped to the floor. Stephanie wished it would have hit louder and thought about picking it up to drop it again, but the look on her mom’s face stopped her.

  Fine. She was done with them. They were all just too stupid.

  Three minutes later, sitting in the back seat of the car, Stephanie started feeling sorry about yelling in the middle of the store. Maybe she shouldn’t have done that. Or dropped the paper for David’s birthday on the floor. Now she felt bad. But not in the mad way, in the sad way. She decided to go say she was sorry. Get it over with.

  Back inside the store Stephanie searched for her mom. As she looked around, she saw two men watching her mom and Angela like they knew them. Did they? One man held a phone to his ear and kept looking at the ground while he talked into it, then back up to her mom and her sister. The other one bounced on his feet like a cartoon person. Like someone who wanted to say something but couldn’t. Maybe he had to pee.

  Did her family know these men? Probably. Or else why would they be so interested?

  Stephanie started walking toward them to say hi when she saw her mom grab a great big balloon that said “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” and move to the checkout lane.

  Yes! A balloon!

  Stephanie ran over to her mother and Angela, glad that she had felt bad before she saw the balloon. She didn’t know why, but she knew that was better than not feeling bad about yelling and stuff and still getting a balloon.

  “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

  “We’ll talk a little more about your behavior when we get home.”

  She had apologized but sometimes her parents wanted to talk about things more. Fine with her. Especially since they had a balloon.

  “We won’t be releasing this balloon, Stephanie. But after the family celebration you can keep it in your room if you’d like.”

  “Really? Just for me? I mean—for David, then for me?”

  “We’re still going to talk when we get home.”

  “Okay. But I really am sorry.”

  Her mom paid for their purchases and they walked to the car. Stephanie carried the balloon very careful to protect it as she got in the back seat. Belted in, she looked toward the store and saw the two men again.

  “Mommy, do those men know us?” Stephanie asked.

  “What men, honey?”

  Stephanie pointed while her mother started the car. From the tiny slice of her mommy she could see in the rearview mirror, she saw her mom stare. And she thought maybe her mommy’s hands shook a little bit before they gripped the wheel.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Aspen Falls Mountain College

  Friday, September 21

  The warmer than usual day shocked Chase’s system. He pulled his shirt away from his body, the idea of a shower sounding like a game plan. He looked up at the clear sky and hoped for a late afternoon rain. Unlikely. A group of racers zipped passed him on their bicycles, and he enjoyed the breeze they stirred up.

  Chase hadn’t found one thing in the last couple of hours that amounted to a hill of spent shells. Part of it might be the fact that some of the professors at Aspen Falls Mountain College were younger than he was. He not only stood out as a cop, he stood out as old. But this old cop knew elimination was part of the investigation process, and he really wanted to eliminate some possible scenarios this afternoon.

  He had five minutes before his meeting at the Student Union with John Bohnert, High Priest for the coven on campus. It was easier to walk than drive and hunt up another parking spot, so Chase picked up his pace and hustled to the appointment.

  Chase loved this campus. Students were casual and a lot more ethnically diverse than you’d expect at a remote mountain college in Colorado. As he hurried along, he watched as students gathered together, the sun dappled by shade from the mature trees on the campus. A few kids tossed a Frisbee around. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

  He smelled fresh popcorn. The AFMC Union, a hundred and eighty degrees from the few tables and vending machines Chase remembered at his own alma mater, included a movie theater, bookstore, art gallery, two types of dining, a game room, study areas, and meeting rooms. New, modern, and filled with the chatter and laughter of young people, it sure didn’t seem like a witch hangout. And that scared him.

  Bohnert had suggested they meet in the art gallery on the second floor. Quiet, uncrowded, it was a place to size one another up without any pryin
g eyes from Bohnert’s rather private group. From there they could go to the retail dining area on the first floor.

  Chase stepped onto the second floor and a rush of creativity assaulted him. Powerful artwork pulled him, demanded his attention. This quality from students? He meandered between mediums, enthralled at what he saw. Sculptures beyond his imagination, watercolors and oils, mixed media and even quilts. Quilts?

  “Detective Waters?”

  He spun. A regular-looking kid approached him. A kid who looked like any number of Angela’s friends, only older. Clean-cut, a T-shirt emblazoned with the school mascot, and a backpack loaded with what Chase assumed were books. Nothing about this good-looking young man screamed witch. Did he have the right guy?

  “John Bohnert?”

  Bohnert nodded and lead the detective back to the staircase where he began the descent. “We quit wearing black pointy hats years ago. Funny thing, when we got rid of those, our warts magically disappeared.”

  Chase might not have liked the idea of witchcraft, and he might not have liked this guy’s flip attitude, but he had a few questions he needed answers to. He’d play the humble role. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t blame yourself, Detective. We deal with it all the time.”

  Settled in a somewhat private table in one of the restaurant areas with soft drinks and fries in front of them, the young man glared at Chase.

  “I agreed to meet with you for one reason only. To impress upon you that covens are not cults. We don’t hurt animals or people, and to be considered a cult is patently ridiculous, not to mention offensive.”

  “Fair enough.” Chase took a sip of his drink. Not the time to discuss philosophical issues and what may or may not cause harm. He needed information. “Do you know of any cults on the campus that might harm animals or people?”

  A group of kids walked passed them—a couple of them bounced off the edge of their table like pinballs—and Chase watched Bohnert for a reaction. He seemed to will himself to be calm. Closed eyes, a deep breath. Chase suspected anger management classes but said nothing.