Chapter 11
Savvy
“Take a breath, Wanda.”
The poor woman is hysterical, and I can’t blame her.
Dispatch called me twenty minutes ago that an incident call had come in from the Rogers’s place. Since our last encounter there, I’d instructed dispatch to call me first for any future disturbances at that address.
Another sleepless night and another interrupted weekend.
At least I got my run in this morning. I needed it to try and clear my mind.
Last night’s unexpected kiss had been dominating my thoughts, when I should’ve been focused on my case.
Only one kiss that stopped as abruptly as it started when Nate’s daughter came looking for her father, but it had packed a punch.
One that made me question everything I thought to be true, and left me feeling guilty.
The crisp morning air on my run went a long way to gaining some perspective, and by the time I received the call, I was buried in the case file I brought home.
I quickly changed into my uniform and contacted Hugo to meet me at the Rogers’s place. I figured I should have some backup—I’m not an idiot—and we showed up here in tandem, prepared to tackle Ben Rogers.
Except, he wasn’t here.
When the judge allowed Ben to be released on bail on the Monday after we booked him for assault, Wanda wisely decided to head out of town to visit her sister and let things cool down a bit.
But when she wasn’t able to get a hold of Ben for the past day and a half, she drove back home, only to find her husband gone.
She was sitting on the porch steps when we arrived, rocking back and forth. I left Hugo to check her out while I went ahead inside, sidearm drawn just in case. Despite his truck in the driveway where it’s usually parked, there is no sign of Ben anywhere in the house.
However, when I entered the garage through the mudroom, it was clear something had happened here.
A sizable brownish-red coagulated pool of what likely was blood, marked the concrete floor.
Laying right beside it was a ball peen hammer, the blunt side coated in the same sticky red substance.
I immediately contacted Auden and asked him to call in the crime scene techs.
I may be jumping the gun, since I don’t know what happened here yet, but my gut tells me my worst fears may have come true.
I hope I’m wrong, and there is a simple explanation for this. Perhaps he injured himself, became disoriented, and wandered off somewhere, but either way, I’m making sure all bases are covered.
“Try again, deep breath.”
While Hugo continues to try and calm the woman, I put in a few more calls. I have an ambulance on the way for Wanda, and I have Brenda dispatching a couple of deputies to assist us. First priority is looking for Ben, and I am silently praying we’ll find him alive somewhere.
My eye is drawn to Dozer Combs’s place next door, but his vehicle is not parked out front and I don’t see any movement.
“Wanda,” I draw her attention. “Have you seen Dozer?”
She blinks a few times and glances over at Dozer’s single wide. Then she looks at me, shaking her head.
“Okay, you stay here with Hugo, I’m just going to check if he’s home.”
As I walk over, I’m silently praying whatever fate found Ben Rogers hasn’t befallen Dozer as well.
There’s no answer when I knock on the door, and nothing looks out of order when I peek into the mobile home’s windows.
It’s entirely possible he simply isn’t home—which I hope is the case—but I do want to speak with him as soon as possible. He may have seen or heard something.
There are a few other houses to canvass in the neighborhood, but those places are farther up the road. Still, it’s possible one of the neighbors noticed something, and as soon as I get some backup here, I’ll send someone to start knocking on doors.
Auden pulls up just as I return from Dozer’s place, an ambulance turns onto the driveway right behind him. I leave Hugo to handle Wanda and the EMTs, and motion for Auden to follow me.
“Fuck,” he curses when I show him the garage.
We stay in the door opening, making sure not to disrupt the scene.
“No drag marks or blood trail I can see,” I fill him in. “Just that pool of blood and the hammer.”
“It’s too clean, it almost looks staged,” Auden observes.
He’s right. I noticed that too, and it’s part of the reason I don’t really believe this could’ve been an accident. If some kind of mishap caused him to bleed this profusely, he would’ve left a trail for sure.
“I don’t think he left this garage under his own steam,” I share. “The only way out would’ve been through the house, or out the garage doors.”
“Could’ve been under the cover of night,” Auden suggests, pointing at a stack of folded tarps on a shelf of the storage unit along the wall. “Maybe wrapped in one of those tarps.”
“Even though Ben wasn’t a particularly big man, you’d have to be pretty damn strong to be able to carry that kind of dead weight very far,” I contemplate out loud. “If Ben is actually our victim,” I add. “We don’t technically know who the victim is yet.”
And unless we find a body, the only way to get an identification would be through blood testing in the lab.
“Very true. So, whoever the victim is, they’ve likely been moved to a vehicle,” he suggests. “Someone was attacked, maybe surprised from behind, or it could have been someone the victim knew. Hit them with that hammer to disable them and took them to a different location.”
“That would be my guess, and we need to send out a patrol car to check for security cameras in the neighborhood that may have picked up anything. But first we still should search the immediate surrounding area. In case our theory is way off base.”
“One thing though, Savvy; I think we’re looking for a body.”
I was already resigned to that very possible outcome.
Whatever happened took place many hours ago, judging by the mostly dried blood stain on the concrete floor.
There is also a lot of it, so even if the victim survived the initial attack, I don’t think they would’ve lasted long with that amount of blood loss.
By the time we get back outside, Wanda is being loaded into the back of the ambulance.
“What’s happening?”
Hugo turns at my approach.
“She’s shocky and tachycardic. They want to take her in for observation.”
“Okay.”
It’s probably better for her not to be around when the crime techs arrive and we start searching the neighborhood.
“Want me to go with her?” Hugo wants to know.
“No. I need you here. Call Dana, tell her Wanda is on her way and fill her in on what’s going on. She can probably find someone to sit with Wanda, but make it clear she should not be left alone at any time.”
Soon after the ambulance leaves, two of my deputies arrive and I quickly get them up to speed. Then I split the men up into two groups to get this ground search underway, I pair Hugo up with KC and Auden with Warren Burns, who is a former detective for the Seattle PD.
I stay behind to do another walk-through of the house—in case I missed something the first time—while I wait for the crime scene unit. I’m about to head inside when I spot Dozer’s old pickup truck coming down the road.
“What’s going on?” he asks as soon as he gets out of his truck. His expression is one of concern as he takes in the vehicles parked in front of his neighbor’s house. “Is Wanda okay?”
I guess it’s not so surprising that would be the first thought in his mind, that something might have happened to her.
“She’ll be okay, Dozer.”
“I don’t understand, what happened? Why are you guys here? Did that bastard harm her?”
“You mean Ben? Have you seen him?” I question him.
He switches his attention from the house next door to me.
“Ben? I saw him when I was loading the truck to head up to the cabin. That would’ve been Wednesday. He was on the porch, drinking.”
“You haven’t seen him since?” I prompt.
Dozer shakes his head. “Been up at the cabin ’til now, fixing the roof. Tree fell on it in that big storm last month. Why? Where is Wanda? Is she inside?”
His eyes are fixed on his neighbor’s house as he starts moving toward it.
“Hold up, Dozer. You can’t go in there. Wanda isn’t there.”
That stops him and when he swings around on me, I’m startled by the intense expression on his face.
“Where is she?” he snaps.
“The hospital, but, Dozer…” I start, but he’s not listening anymore. “Hey…wait!”
Before I can stop him, he rushes past me and despite his advancing age and rickety frame, hops behind the wheel. He narrowly misses hitting the crime unit’s van coming up the road as he speeds off.
He seems very concerned about Wanda.
Interesting.
Nate
Jesus, this is so not my thing.
I probably shouldn’t be using that name, considering where I find myself this morning. It’s just that I’ve never felt more out of place.
It’s for Tatum, that’s what I need to remind myself of. Trust me, I would not be spending a perfectly good Sunday morning sitting in my truck, at the edge of the parking lot outside the New Horizons Church, if anyone but Tate had asked me to.
She didn’t actually ask me to sit outside, she asked me to come, because she wanted to attend a Christian youth music group.
I suspect maybe she hoped I’d attend the service taking place at the same time in the church part of the building, but the parking lot is as far as I’m getting.
Already I feel like I’m committing sacrilege simply by being on church property.
Still, I wasn’t going to tell my daughter no when she’s making efforts to connect with the new-to-her community. Of course, it was at Carson’s suggestion, but I figured there are worse things the kid could have gotten Tate into.
Busy place, the parking lot was pretty much full when I got here forty minutes ago. I’ve been killing time playing Sudoku on my phone. Something to engage my brain and my hands, otherwise I might’ve run out for a pack of smokes from the convenience store across the street.
The temptation to light up has been strong these past few days. I blame that kiss. I guess that was a little bit like falling off the wagon as well. It’s basically what the kiss was; indulging in something that may not be healthy for you, but is satisfying in a way nothing else can touch.
I mean, I’ve had entire wild sexual encounters that did not leave me feeling like an almost modest brush of Savvy’s lips did.
Even back then, I knew we had a number of odds stacked against us. A seven-year age difference—which doesn’t seem to matter that much now, but fifteen years ago it felt like a big gap—a not-so-stellar background on my part, and the fact her father was the sheriff and already not my biggest fan.
Never mind she lit up my world in a way I knew was a once-in-a-lifetime deal, or that she made me feel wanted when rejection was what I was used to. In the end, I knew in my gut it couldn’t last; she gave me so much when I had little to offer in return.
Maybe that’s why I didn’t put up much of a fight when I was being run out of town.
But I’m back now, and the years away have given me a chance to grow out of a reputation that crippled me, and gain a better sense of self-worth. Not only do I have something to prove, but I feel I have something to offer. To Silence, but mostly to Savannah.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when I notice the church doors opening and the congregation spilling into the parking lot.
I recognize several church-goers, including an old school buddy of mine, Roy Battaglia, with what I assume is his family.
It sure looks like he’s done well for himself.
I hear he has his own business, installing home security systems, which is pretty ironic, seeing as he and I did more than a few break and enters in our youth.
Guess we both landed on our feet, but he went a step farther and appears to have established himself as one of Silence’s upstanding citizens in the past fifteen or so years.
I watch as he helps his wife and daughter into a nice Cadillac Escalade parked about twenty feet from my truck.
Might be nice to say hello, but before I have a chance to get out of the truck, the rain that has been looming all morning starts coming down, and not just a little.
Roy scrambles to get in his vehicle and is already pulling out when I catch sight of Tate, standing in a crowd of people seeking shelter under the portico over the front entrance.
I start the truck and make my way around the parking lot, pulling up right in front of the group. I can feel every eye fixed on me and do my best to ignore them as I focus on my daughter.
Leaning over, I open the passenger side door for Tate, who is trying to stay dry by covering her head with a stack of papers she’s holding.
“What’s all that?”
“Some permission forms you need to fill out, and a schedule for upcoming events for the rest of the year.”
“Okay…I’m guessing you had a good time?”
She flashes a bright smile at me.
“It’s really cool, Dad. It’s like a choir and dance group with a band, and they make these reels for TikTok or Instagram to help them raise money to build a school in Burundi. Get this, last year they raised over three thousand dollars!”
I don’t have the heart to tell her three thousand is only a drop in the bucket of what would be needed to erect a building—even in Burundi, I imagine—instead, I grin at her enthusiasm.
“Sounds like a worthy cause. Tell me more.”
She does, all the way home. About the young guy running the program, who apparently is a sheriff’s deputy, and about other kids in the group.
She rattles off names I don’t recognize, except maybe one; Naomi Battaglia.
I’m thinking that might be the pretty blond girl I saw getting in the back seat of my old friend’s Escalade. His daughter.
I’d forgotten how small the world can be in Silence, Washington.
Tatum’s normally timid voice sounds excited and much more confident than I’m used to. I know she loves music, and she has a pretty voice—I’ve occasionally heard her sing along to her favorite tunes in her room—but I wasn’t aware she’s this passionate about it.
It’s a good thing. She’s settling in, and as a result I’m beginning to feel some solid ground under my own feet again.
It feels good.
Now, if only Savannah didn’t have this murder case taking up all her time, perhaps I could convince her to spend some of it with me.
Fuck, I hope she’ll give me this second chance.