CHAPTER SEVEN
C HAPTER S EVEN
Matt was back in the sheriff’s station by eight thirty. He carried a container of fresh scones and a stainless-steel mug of Dana’s supercharged coffee. Bree veered off toward her office door, where her admin, Marge, waited with a stack of messages and a frown. Not much rattled Marge, so her troubled expression was not a good sign. She was dressed in black slacks and reading glasses on a chain. In deference to the heat outside, she wore her trademark cardigan unbuttoned.
Matt offered Marge a scone. “They’re fresh.”
She raised her drawn-on eyebrows and took one. “Thanks. I fear it’s going to be a long day. Reporters are waiting for you,” she said to Bree.
Bree grimaced. “I issued a statement last night. I need some time before I can answer questions.” She and Marge disappeared into Bree’s office.
Matt went into the empty conference room and started the murder board by pinning photos of the victims to the top center. He added a picture of Claire off to the side. Todd appeared in the doorway with his own mug in one hand and a manila folder piled on a laptop in the other.
Without speaking, Matt nudged the scones toward the chief deputy.
“Thanks.” Todd inhaled two scones and washed them down with coffee. Sugar and caffeine were a sad substitute for sleep, but when working a big case, they would all take what they could get.
“How’s Cady?” Matt asked. His sister and Todd lived together, and Cady was six months pregnant. She’d had a slew of routine tests the previous week.
“Worried.” Todd held up crossed fingers. “The results from the scans and blood work should be in today. I wish she could relax a little and enjoy the rest of the pregnancy now that we’re past the critical point.”
“She’s not going to breathe easy until that baby is here and healthy.” Years ago, Matt’s sister had experienced a late miscarriage. Though the doctors had told her she couldn’t have prevented it, Cady’s ex-husband had blamed her. The ass. Matt tamped down the anger that always surfaced when he thought of his sister’s ex. If Matt lived to be a hundred, he was still going to want to bash the ex’s face.
Again.
Todd nodded. “Three more months. Then we’ll all feel better. Maybe she’ll even marry me.”
“She loves you.”
“I know that. I know I’m being old-fashioned, but I was hoping we’d be married before the baby was born. I would never pressure her, but I can’t help feeling the way I do.”
“I get it,” Matt commiserated.
“I don’t understand how us getting married could jinx the pregnancy.”
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned about parenting, it’s that it makes you less than rational at times. If Luke doesn’t text me back in fifteen minutes, I picture him in every terrible accident I responded to in my patrol days. When the baby comes, you’ll probably worry in ways that don’t make sense too.”
“The more I read about pregnancy, the more I freak out.” Todd shook his head. “There’s so much that can go wrong. I wish I could help her.”
“You are,” Matt assured him. “By letting her call the shots and being there for her.”
Matt understood Todd’s dilemma better than he would admit. He would marry Bree tomorrow, but she wasn’t ready. Her past made personal relationships difficult. She didn’t trust or commit easily. He knew she loved him all the same.
Bree entered a minute later. “I need to give a press conference. Home invasions are terrifying. The press and public want information.”
Todd wiped his hands on a napkin. “Forensics should be finished with the scene this afternoon. Juarez will be in shortly. I’ll start him on gathering background information on the Masons.”
Deputy Juarez had been shot in the leg by a serial killer over the summer. Though he wasn’t recovered enough to return to patrol duties, he had begged Bree to let him come back to work. He was so bored he’d even volunteered to man a desk and type reports.
“Good,” Bree said. “What did we learn from questioning the neighbors?”
“Not much. We’re still working on the neighborhood canvass.” Todd removed a photo from his folder, a close-up of the hole in the Masons’ glass door. “As you know, entry was gained through the patio doors. Whoever came didn’t break the glass but entered quietly, as if they knew the Masons were home.”
Bree stared at the photo. “Dr. Jones established time of death as between eight thirty and nine thirty that evening, but Claire said her parents went to bed at nine. They looked to be settled and reading when they were shot. So, I’d bet they died closer to nine fifteen or nine thirty.”
Matt paced, the movement spurring his brain into gear. “Chances are good the killer or killers knew the Masons’ routine. Possibly also knew the layout of the house.”
“On that note, we need the name and number of the cleaning service,” Bree said. “Claire said they were in the house the day of the murders.”
Matt pictured the couple in their bed. “The killer broke in, went upstairs, and killed the Masons, then searched the bedroom and home office. The only things we know were taken were electronics and likely a few business files.”
“If we knew which files, that might point us to a lead,” Bree said.
“We can ask Claire to look at photos of the house and see if she can identify anything that’s missing,” Todd suggested.
“She didn’t seem to know much about their legal work, but she might identify other items that were taken.” Bree nodded. “It’s a big ask, but we don’t have many options. Without other family members or close friends, there’s no one else to do it.”
“The fact that they had no family or friends seems odd,” Matt said. “I mean, some people don’t have family they’re close to, but most people have at least one distant relative floating around somewhere. An aunt, a second cousin twice removed, someone .”
“And people without family sometimes fill that space in their lives with friends,” Todd added. “But according to your interview with Claire, her parents didn’t socialize.”
“Maybe they’re introverts?” Bree stared at their photos.
“Aren’t lawyers extroverts?” Todd asked. “They have to connect with clients and court personnel.”
“We don’t know what kind of small-business law they practiced,” Matt said. “They might write contracts all day.”
“Yes, but they still have to deal with clients.” Todd pulled two business cards from his folder. “I found these in the desk. It appears they were partners in their own firm, Mason and Mason.”
Each business card bore the firm’s logo, two M s connected by a fancy ampersand. Underneath, text read L EGAL S ERVICES FOR Y OUR S MALL B USINESS . Their individual names, A TTORNEY - AT -L AW , a phone number, and an email address were printed in the corner.
Todd pointed to the phone numbers. “These numbers are registered to Josh and Shelly Mason personally.”
“Maybe they were killed by a client,” Bree suggested. “Maybe the one Claire said was giving her mother a hard time.”
“The killings did have an execution vibe.” Matt wrote client? on the board.
“The murders were efficient,” Bree agreed. “And lawyers can be privy to sensitive client information.”
Todd typed on his keyboard. “We have business records to read.” He gestured toward a stack of boxes in the corner.
“They might do some of their work digitally,” Bree said in a doubtful voice.
“Which might explain why the personal electronics were taken.” Matt wrote more notes under the word client? : location of records , business contacts .
“Did you review everything in the home safe?” Bree asked Todd.
“Yes,” Todd said. “Did you know Claire isn’t the Masons’ biological child? They adopted her twelve years ago. We found her adoption order, along with Shelly’s and Josh’s birth certificates, all their passports, and social security cards. They also kept their home and life insurance policies in there.”
“So Claire has lost two sets of parents,” Bree said, her voice full of sorrow.
“We don’t know that her biological parents are dead,” Todd said.
“Claire would have been five when she was adopted. I wonder how much she remembers about her bio family.” Matt noted her adoptive status on the board. At this point, they had no idea what information might result in an investigative lead. Better to include everything they found and sort the threads later.
“She was adopted at age five, but that doesn’t mean that’s when she lost, was taken from, or relinquished by her biological parents. She could have spent time in the foster care system.”
“We’ll have to ask her,” Bree said. “Erin was four when our parents died. She had snatches of memory. Maybe Claire does too.”
“How much did they carry in life insurance?” Matt asked.
“Two hundred thousand each,” Todd said. “Primary beneficiaries were each other. Secondary beneficiary is Claire on both policies.” At least Claire wouldn’t be penniless, like so many orphans. She could go to college, have a life.
“Nothing excessive then, and no other beneficiaries that might want a payout. What about tax returns?” Bree asked. “Or the name of an accounting firm.”
Todd lifted a hand. “I’m still sifting through the papers in the office. I spotted tax returns but I haven’t had a chance to review them.”
“Still no will?” Bree asked.
“Nothing that we found at the house,” Todd said. “We’re requesting cell and financial records. Maybe we’ll find an attorney in their phone contacts or an appointment with one on their calendars.”
“Considering they were attorneys themselves, maybe not.” Bree turned to Todd. “Let’s see the adoption paperwork. I’ll need to forward copies to the social worker.”
Todd sifted through the papers in his folder and slid several pages across the table toward Bree. “Here.”
Bree looked over the documents. “There must be a will somewhere. They’re lawyers.”
“Maybe it’s the same as the contractor who doesn’t fix his own house,” Matt suggested. “Also, some people can’t face the thought of their own death.”
Todd went back to his computer. “I called Claire’s manager first thing this morning. He confirmed her hours last night.” Dotting i’s and crossing t’s was a boring but critical part of the job. He closed his computer and gathered his papers. “I’ll get Juarez working on those warrants and background checks. Deputies will be knocking on doors this morning. Maybe we’ll get lucky and someone saw a stranger last night.”
Matt considered the murder scene. A stranger crime didn’t feel right, but all investigative avenues needed to be pursued at this point in the case. Procedure existed for a very good reason.
Bree ran a hand across the top of her head. “I’m grateful my sister left a clear will naming me as guardian. I had no legal issues assuming care of the kids. They never had to go into the foster system. Dealing with the death of their mother was hard enough without the added uncertainties of where they were going to live and who would care for them. I can’t imagine how Claire is coping. She has the trauma of finding them on top of the grief of losing them.”
“And they left her with no one to reach out to.” A burst of anger speared him. How could a parent neglect such an important detail?
“Maybe they have digital copies of their wills in their cloud account or physical copies in a safe-deposit box,” Bree suggested. “Safe-deposit box keys are small. One of those might still turn up.” She checked the time on her phone screen. “I have to prepare for the press conference.” She got up and headed for the door.
After she left the room, Matt stared at the murder board. “I can start reviewing those business records.” He reached for the top box.
“I’ll go give Juarez his instructions.” Todd stood. “Then I’ll come back and help you.”
Matt opened the box. As Bree had noted, lawyers were privy to sensitive information. Maybe something the Masons knew got them killed.