Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
I T TURNED OUT THAT E VERETT was one of the few people in town who had not seen the crash. Several videos of the incident went viral overnight on social media. Marcus Marshall uploaded the one that got the most clicks. As a result, national media picked up the story, and by Tuesday morning, Dry Oaks Police Department was inundated with media and media requests.
“Can we have a statement?”
“Was the crash pilot error?”
“Chief Keyes! Are you any relation to Joseph Keyes?”
The reference to Joe Keyes surprised her, though she wasn’t sure why. Her entire life she’d lived under the shadow of Joe Keyes and what he’d done. Thirty-five years ago, he killed two people and seriously injured a third. He was also implicated in the disappearance of a DEA officer.
Local news often brought up the incident on anniversary dates. Marcus Marshall wrote a book about it. Joe was in prison for life, and Hanna had never met him. But today was about Scott Buckley, not Joe Keyes, so she ignored the reference and hoped the press would drop the old news.
“Mayor Milton will give a statement as soon as possible.” Hanna pushed through them into the station and then headed to her office, closing the door for a minute of quiet.
The PD didn’t have a dedicated press office. Thankfully, Mayor Evelyn Milton liked talking to the media. Dry Oaks had not had this much attention from the outside world for as long as Hanna could remember.
A knock sounded at the door, and Terry Holmes poked his head in. “Got a minute, Chief?”
“Yes, come on in.”
He entered and closed the door behind him. “Wow, it’s a circus out there. Must be a slow news day.” He handed her a folder. “Here’s everything from yesterday. The good news about the media coverage is I think things will move faster. The NTSB investigator saw some of the posted videos. He doesn’t think the plane’s path to the ground was indicative of engine problems with the plane.”
Hanna took the folder and opened it, skimming the contents. “He’s already got preliminary findings here.”
“Yeah. The fire was extinguished quickly, and all the wreckage was moved to a hangar at the airport. He had a lot to work with and didn’t find anything that showed mechanical malfunction.”
“So that leaves us with pilot error or pilot sickness.”
“Right.” Terry nodded. “And the coroner called. He’ll move the autopsy up as soon as possible.”
“You talked to the airfield personnel at Columbia. Did they see anything out of the ordinary?”
“It was a normal day. No visitors or unusual people at the field. Scott had a mug of coffee and planned a survey of some property he was considering buying. He did the usual precheck, and his takeoff was smooth. He was in the air for thirty minutes before he crashed.”
She closed the folder. “I wonder if he had medical issues he didn’t know about.”
“It’s possible.”
“Good work, Terry. We’ll both attend the autopsy when it’s scheduled.”
He nodded and left Hanna alone with her thoughts. She scrolled through social media to see what was trending. Videos of the crash were still getting clicks. To her dismay, Joe and his crimes were also trending, and in the top ten. If people searched Dry Oaks for the crash video, they also found Joe Keyes.
Hanna should be used to it, though. Joe had been in jail as long as she’d been alive. It was part of her morbid history.
As tragic as Scott’s death was, so far it looked as if it had been a medical emergency. Hanna prayed it would be that simple and that news would trend away from Dry Oaks.
And her father’s sins of the past.
Two days later on Wednesday, thoughts of simple were demolished by the autopsy. Scott’s crash was not a medical emergency: It was murder. The county coroner, sitting behind his desk across from Hanna and Terry, listed the probable cause of death as “poisoning by cyanide.”
“I can’t make it official until after I get the toxicology results back from the state lab,” he said. “But his stomach contents tested positive for cyanide. Most likely it was in his coffee. If you have a mug or carafe for me to test, I can be more definitive.”
“As far as I know, there was no mug or thermos with the wreckage,” Terry said.
“We’ll have to do another sweep of the crash site.” Hanna looked down at her notes. “Personnel at the airfield were clear Scott had a travel mug in his hand when he boarded the plane.”
“He hadn’t eaten. Coffee was all he had in his stomach,” the coroner summarized. “He had a seizure at some point. Then his heart stopped. The paramedics tried hard, but essentially Scott was dead when he hit the ground.” The coroner put down his paperwork and took off his glasses.
“Who stood to gain from killing Scott Buckley?” he asked, and Hanna had no answer. She did know that she would pull out all the stops to find out.