Chapter 9
Jane returned to work with more questions than answers. She sent the cold wallet out to the lab in Quantico, hoping they could do something with it. Though from the state of it, she had a feeling it would be good for nothing except a trash can.
She made some notes and found Sherry Duvall’s number. After setting up a meeting for the following day, she thought about what had been bothering her about Dave Duvall and called Detective Ryan.
They’d worked together a year ago on a murder case, and she appreciated his dedication to his job. Plus, he had a sweet tooth that went well with a good stakeout. He’d been working the Duvall and Coatney cases and had been the one to call her in on them.
“Agent Cannon,” he answered on his personal cell phone. “What can I do for you? Sorry I couldn’t stick around earlier. Had a doozy of a perp pop up we’ve been trying to grab for months.”
“No problem. Something’s been bugging me about the interview, and I was wondering if you had a few minutes to talk.”
“About our terrible liar, Dave Duvall?”
She chuckled. “That’s the one.”
“You know, the guy seems genuinely upset about his brother’s death. I don’t get the feeling he had anything to do with killing his brother, sister-in-law, or those poor kids. And to be frank, I’ve seen a lot of murderers. Dave Duvall doesn’t have the stomach to kill.”
“I didn’t get that sense either.”
He continued, “Not that he couldn’t hire someone to do it, but nothing we’ve found convinces me he’s a part of those homicides.
He inherits a portion of his brother’s estate, along with the sister and mother.
He doesn’t have any major debts and is a decent enough boss, according to his coworkers.
I dug deep on this, especially after the second home invasion.
Even the neighbors like him. Dave Duvall is, by all accounts, a genuinely nice guy. ”
“But…?” she prodded.
“But today, he clearly lied to us. What’s this Collective you mentioned?”
“Yesterday, I got called in to a third home invasion. There, I found a hidden notebook that listed the Duvalls, the Coatneys, and the Strands—our recent vics—as well as seven other names now on our radar. And in the book was mention of something called the Collective. I have no idea what it means yet, but Dave reacted to it.”
“He did, didn’t he?” A pause, then Ryan added, “Have you talked to the sister?”
“No. I plan to see her tomorrow.”
“Want company?”
Jane thought about it. “Yeah, that would work.”
“When are you meeting her?”
“Nine. How about I swing by the precinct to grab you at 08:30? Sherry Duvall lives in New Holly.” A half hour should give them enough time.
“That works. I’ll spring for donuts and coffee.”
“I knew I liked you.”
He chuckled and said, “See you then, Agent Cannon,” before hanging up.
With that plan in place, Jane made a few more notes on what to ask Sherry Duvall the following day then moved back into the Coatney murders.
Nick Coatney had made his money in tech the old-fashioned way—coding.
Unlike the Duvalls, the Coatneys worked together in their tech firm.
Nick had founded the company and still coded on occasion, mostly because he liked it, according to those who knew him.
His wife Kathy, however, still crafted algorithms and code.
They didn’t have any government contracts that Jane could see. But they were real movers in the world of large-scale data applications, with their fingers in everything from forecasting future trends in marketing and healthcare to customer behavior analysis.
She searched her emails and found information sent from the Tactical Specialist she’d been working with. TSs were skilled at maneuvering around social media, databases, and searches through networks to dig up buried communications.
Scrolling through the results TS Teri Chapman had recovered yielded little. Jane saw nothing suspicious in the correspondence. Most of it was work or family related. Kathy Coatney’s children had been heavily involved in sports.
Unfortunately, they’d never know what it felt like to play at a higher level, denied a chance at competition due to a sick killer with no morals.
Except he hadn’t killed the animals.
Jane picked up the phone. “Hey, Teri? It’s Jane. Yeah, I have a question about the folder you sent me on the Coatneys.”
Teri, an attractive woman in her mid-thirties, who subsisted on a diet of social media, pop music, and sugar, was never so happy as she was when pulling on a thread and tracing it to its end. Jane had also never seen the woman without a piece of gum in her mouth.
“Shoot.” Teri cracked her gum.
Jane grinned. “What flavor today?”
“Blueberry buzz. I think my tongue is turning blue.”
“Very professional.”
“Hey, I swap out with Wild Watermelon Waves to turn it back to pink before I interact with people. I’m currently mushrooming in the dark while I glom through New Google, Facebook, and IG.”
“New Google?”
“TikTok.”
“Ah, okay. So the Coatneys. They had a black Labrador Retriever, correct?”
“Hold on.” Keys clacked, then Teri answered, “Right. Do you want me to give you the address?”
“Address?”
“For the dog. They found it two days ago at the Seattle Animal Shelter. It’s on hold to be adopted.”
Jane checked the time. “Thanks. I owe you.”
“You truly do.” Teri disconnected.
Grabbing her keys, Jane hustled to her car. With any luck, she could make it to the shelter before it closed.