16. Garrett
CHAPTER 16
Garrett
I’d hit on a stroke of luck and found the sister of my cold case victim. Jocelyn Joyner, who’d gotten married and now went by Jocelyn Smith, still lived in the area, in a small neighborhood on the south edge of town. We didn’t have a current phone number, so I was hoping my luck would hold and she’d be willing to talk to me if I just showed up at her front door.
Instead of my uniform, I’d worn plain clothes—a button-down shirt and slacks. I had my badge and ID with me, but people were often more willing to talk to a guy in regular clothes than a deputy in uniform. I wanted to make her comfortable, especially since I was there to talk about a difficult topic.
Her house was nice, a big two-story with a well-maintained yard. No cars out front, but they might have been in the garage. I parked on the street, went up to the front door, and knocked.
A woman with long dark hair pulled back at the nape of her neck answered the door. She wore a blouse and slacks, like maybe she’d recently come home from work. “Can I help you? ”
“Afternoon. Sorry to intrude, but are you Jocelyn Smith?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Deputy Garrett Haven with the Tilikum County sheriff’s office. I’m wondering if I could ask you some questions about your sister, Jasmine.”
“What about her?”
“I’m looking into her case.”
“Did you find something? Oh my god, you have to tell me.”
“Possibly, but nothing conclusive. Would you be willing to talk to me?”
“Yes, yes.” She stepped aside and ushered me in. “Please come in.”
I nodded to her. “Thank you.”
She led me past a row of hooks with backpacks and shoes shoved underneath.
“Kids?” I asked.
“I have three. They’re at the store with their dad. I hate to think what kind of junk food they’re going to bring home. He’s a softie when it comes to that stuff.”
“Sounds like fun.”
I followed her into the dining room where she offered me a spot at the table. A painting of a mountain meadow hung on the wall.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
We both took a seat at the table. She clasped her hands together and fidgeted in her seat.
“First of all, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. But what’s going on? Did you find something in her case?”
“Possibly. I found a bracelet in the woods matching the one you reported she was wearing when she disappeared.”
Her mouth opened slightly and she held up her wrist. Sure enough, she wore a silver bracelet. “We thought they were so funny back then, we each bought one.”
“You’re certain she was wearing it that day?”
“Positive. She never took it off. They’re a little tricky to get on if you don’t have someone to help fasten the clasp.”
“Do you keep yours on all the time?”
“I take it off to shower and when I go to bed. But my husband helps me put it on every morning. It makes me feel like I still have a little piece of her with me.”
“I can’t prove the bracelet was hers, but it matches the description you gave, down to the engraving. And it shows the wear expected with exposure to the elements. If nothing else, it prompted me to take a look at your sister’s case.”
“Well thank goodness for that. It’s about time someone did.”
“I understand. We all want answers. When you initially reported your sister missing, you told investigators you were concerned that a man named Tanner Leeman might be involved.”
“Yes, Tanner was her ex-boyfriend. She’d broken up with him a few months before she disappeared. He wasn’t happy about that. But the police were sure he didn’t kill her.”
“Because he was on a fishing boat in Alaska.”
She nodded. “I thought it had to be him. Jasmine didn’t have any enemies. Everyone loved her. But even I had to admit it wasn’t possible for Tanner to be in two places at once.”
“The report also said in the weeks leading up to her disappearance and murder, she received packages from an unknown sender. Do you remember that?”
“Oh, yes. It was terrible.”
“Why? What was in them?”
She took a deep breath and looked away, as if recalling the incidents. “The first one had a pair of her underwear.”
“How did she know they were hers? ”
“Same brand, same size, same color. They were her favorites, and not something you could get locally. She ordered them online.”
“Was any of her underwear missing?”
“To be honest, it was hard to tell. It could have been a different pair. But who would have known what kind of underwear she wore, other than Tanner?”
“So she believed Tanner had sent them to her.”
She nodded. “She was afraid he’d been in her house. That he’d done it to show her he could still get to her.”
“Did she report the incident to the sheriff’s department?”
“No. I told her to, but she wouldn’t listen. She said they wouldn’t do anything, so why bother.”
“Did Tanner have a key or other access to her home?”
“He shouldn’t have. She changed the locks when they broke up. Not that it stopped him.”
“Was she aware that someone had been in her house? Were there any other signs of a break in?”
“Not that I know of.”
“You said she received packages, as in more than one. Do you recall how many there were?”
“There were two.”
“What was in the second one?”
Her eyebrows drew together. “Flowers.”
“Fresh flowers, or dried?”
“Fresh. A bouquet. She thought Tanner was trying to apologize, but there wasn’t a note.”
“What kind of flowers were they?”
“They were all white, with lilies.”
“Do you know where they came from? Was it a local florist?”
“I don’t know. I remember the box they came in was like the first—blank. No logo or stickers or anything.”
“Was there postage on the packages? Had they actually been shipped? ”
She paused, as if considering. “You know, I don’t remember. It seems like there was, but I don’t actually know for sure.”
Damn.
“In the case notes, it indicates that you told law enforcement about the packages. But it doesn’t look like they took them into evidence or treated them as part of the case. What did they tell you about them?”
“They said it was probably Tanner. Seemed like something an angry ex would do. Without any evidence that he’d broken in, there wasn’t much they could do about it. And I think once they realized he couldn’t have killed her, whether or not he sent her a pair of her own underwear or flowers was irrelevant.”
“Do you know if he ever admitted to sending either package?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure if they ever asked him.”
“The case notes indicate he was cleared as a suspect because he was in Alaska at the time of her disappearance. Was there any indication that the packages came from Alaska?”
“No, but he’d only just left, I think the day before she disappeared. He could have done it before.”
“Do you remember when the flowers arrived, relative to when she disappeared?
“A day or two before, I think.”
I kept my expression carefully neutral, but inside I was seething. It was possible those packages had come from her ex-boyfriend. But what if they hadn’t? How could the investigators have been sure? Those items should have been taken in as evidence. How could someone have dropped the ball so badly?
“You don’t happen to have those packages or any of the things they contained, do you?”
“No, I don’t. It seemed sort of morbid to keep them. ”
“Of course.”
“Why are you so interested in them? I thought they didn’t have anything to do with her murder.”
“I’m just looking at her case with fresh eyes. Were there any other strange incidents you can recall around the time of her initial disappearance? Any indication she was being watched or followed?”
“She did seem preoccupied. Like she was nervous. I remember because she wasn’t usually like that. She was such a happy person. It was like there was a cloud following her around. But she didn’t tell me why, so I don’t know what was making her feel that way.”
I hesitated before asking, but I had to know. “She didn’t happen to get anything on her car? A gift bag, maybe with a stuffed animal in it?”
She shook her head. “No, nothing like that. At least not that I know of.”
That was a relief. “Okay. Thank you for your time and I apologize for poking at a painful wound.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’ll help in any way I can if it will get my sister’s killer behind bars.”
“Of course. I’m doing my best.”
“Thank you, deputy?”
“Haven. Garrett Haven.”
We got up and she walked me to the door. I gave her my card and asked her to call me if she remembered anything else that might help.
I left and went back to the station. Someone had brought in goodies, but they were just donuts from the Quick Stop. Easy to ignore. And I had bigger things on my mind.
Jasmine’s murder had been considered a crime of opportunity. She’d been taken off a hiking trail, a simple wrong place, wrong time situation.
But was that it?
The location of her bracelet still bothered me. It was too far from where her body was found, and not on a hiking trail. How had it gotten there?
And the packages. I wasn’t convinced they’d been sent by her ex. I’d have to see if I could track him down and ask him myself. If he admitted to doing it, fine, I could move on and find another lead to follow.
But this trail was beckoning to me, tickling my instincts. A package with her underwear in it meant someone had broken into her house. That wasn’t a crime of opportunity, that indicated research and planning. And it had been meant to send Jasmine a message.
Someone had been watching her. She hadn’t been a random victim. She’d been a target.
I went to my desk and sat down, intending to dive back into Jasmine’s case files, but Sergeant Denny appeared as if from nowhere. He crossed his arms, and by the groove between his eyes, I could tell he wasn’t happy. “Prosecuting attorney’s office dropped the Jones case.”
“What?”
“Botched reports, missing evidence. The whole thing’s a mess. I know you’re a rookie investigator, but you should know better.”
I had no idea what he was talking about. I’d followed protocol to the letter. I always did. “That doesn’t make sense. What’s missing? Who else had access?”
His gaze darkened into a glare.
“I’m not implying someone tampered on purpose, I—”
“Look, mistakes happen,” he said, cutting me off. “But don’t get too deep into that cold case. I know you want to be the guy who catches a killer, but that doesn’t mean you can get sloppy on smaller cases.”
I wanted to argue that I hadn’t gotten sloppy, but I knew it was better to keep my mouth shut. Especially if he was just going to blow off steam at me, not write me up. So I nodded once .
He nodded in return and walked away.
I let out a frustrated breath. It certainly wasn’t the first time one of my superiors had given me a hard time about something. Sergeant Denny could be a hardass. It was just part of the job.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, like I was being watched. I glanced up and saw Kade standing on the other side of the room, leaning against a pillar with a cup of coffee in his hand. His expression might have seemed neutral—just a guy taking a quick break before going out on assignment again. But even at a distance, I could see the tightening at the corners of his eyes, the slight hitch in his jaw.
He wouldn’t have tampered with something to make me look bad, would he?
That seemed like a stretch. Just because he’d been in a bad mood a lot, didn’t mean he had it in for me.
Pushing Kade out of my mind—he wasn’t my problem—I got up and went outside. I wanted to clear my head, but I also had a call to make, and I didn’t want an audience. Sarge had said the prosecutor’s office had dropped the case. I had a pretty good relationship with Phillip Lancaster, one of the prosecuting attorneys. Maybe he could shed some light on what was going on.
“Lancaster,” he answered.
“Hey, Phillip. Garrett Haven. Got a minute?”
“Sure thing.”
“I just got word about the Trent Jones case being dropped. Seemed pretty open-and-shut. Any idea what happened?”
“Yeah, this is a tough one.” He paused, and his voice was hesitant when he continued. “There were too many things in your report that weren’t accounted for in the evidence room. Started to make it look like you were exaggerating or you’d mishandled things. And forensics found your prints on the car.”
“Mine? I wore gloves the whole time. That’s not possible. ”
“I don’t know, that’s above my pay grade. All I know is, a jury would rip the case to shreds. We both know Jones is a problem, and believe me, I want him off the streets as much as you do. But the missing evidence alone is a bad look. Sorry, man. I hate to be the bearer of bad news.”
Fuck. Missing evidence? My prints on the car?
“Look, I have no idea how that happened.”
“Don’t sweat it too much. But if the guys on your end aren’t keeping things buttoned up, there’s only so much I can do.”
“Right. Got it.”
“Just… be careful. You have a good reputation. Don’t want to lose that.”
“No, I don’t.”
“While I have you, how are things going on the Joyner case? Making any progress?”
“Nothing substantial yet. I talked to the victim’s sister. There’s an angle they didn’t pursue. I think the victim might have been targeted before she was taken. Someone might have even broken into her house.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. But don’t worry, I’ll be meticulous with everything. If I have any shot of finding this guy, I’m not going to let any stupid mistakes get in the way.”
“Good. And thanks for following up. I’m always available if you have questions.”
“Thanks, Phillip. Appreciate it.”
I ended the call.
Part of me wanted to throw my phone. Anger simmered in my gut. Mistakes? I didn’t make mistakes. Not like that. It wasn’t just that this made me look bad—which it did—it also kept a criminal on the streets. And a frequent flier like Jones would most likely offend again.
I just hoped if he did, no one would get hurt.
My phone buzzed with a text and, despite my frustrations, the corners of my mouth turned up in a smile at seeing Harper’s name. My anger cooled.
She’d sent a picture of herself holding a cupcake with pink and yellow swirled frosting.
Harper: Pink lemonade cupcakes. Aren’t they cute?
Me: You’re cute.
Harper: Want me to save one for you?
Me: How about you save some frosting. I can lick it off you.
Harper: How soon can you be at my place? Not really, I can’t leave work. But now I’m all tingly in, you know, places.
Me: What places?
Harper: Secret places.
Me: Delicious places.
Harper: You’re killing me right now.
Me: Not sorry.
Harper: Can’t wait to see you again.
Me: Me too.
The urge to type love you hit me like a punch to the jaw. Love you? It was too soon for that. Spontaneous Garrett might have taken over for a while, and I didn’t regret that, but I still needed to be careful.
And I needed to stay focused. If I really had made mistakes, I couldn’t let it happen again. My job was at stake.