Chapter Nine
In his home office, Mason Sawyer sat on a well-worn, high-backed black leather ergonomic chair at an L-shaped walnut desk that had a small filing cabinet attached to it. His dog, Hopper, sat lazily nearby, rejecting the opportunity to roam free on the ranch.
Spread across the desk were case files from his investigation into the murder of Lynda Boxleitner two decades ago.
Though he’d stepped away from police work since retiring—after an injury and his wife Alyssa’s death made it too difficult to remain on the force—Mason had never quite been able to rid himself of information on Lynda’s mysterious death.
It was as though, deep down inside, he believed that he might need to come back to it again once the case was reopened.
He wasn’t sure if that was official or not, but Mason believed that his son was hell-bent on clearing up his present-day death of Mia O’Dell by poisoning case in conjunction with the cold case death of Lynda Boxleitner.
Mason felt obliged to do his part to the extent he could as a retiree. He thought, It’s the least I can do in trying to help Campbell piece this together, if the deaths were connected at all. Not to mention having another crack at solving Lynda’s murder long after the fact—once and for all.
But as of yet, he saw nothing while going over the investigation notes, witnesses, evidence and whatnot that he hadn’t seen twenty years ago.
All roads still seemed to lead back to Wendell Braison as the most likely culprit in Lynda’s death. But that hadn’t been nearly enough to make an arrest, much less get a conviction and prison sentence.
But what if I’d been wrong in pursuing Wendell?
Mason asked himself, lifting a can of beer and taking a sip.
What about Kenneth Braison? Had he overlooked him?
Though Kenneth was twentysomething at the time and fully capable of killing Lynda, his alibi of being in Boise when the murder took place had held up.
On the other hand, Wendell—who was thought to have been romantically linked to Lynda and manipulative in controlling her and his other followers—was sketchy in his own alibi. But did that make him guilty of murder?
And could Kenneth have pulled a fast one by faking his whereabouts at the time of Lynda’s death?
What am I missing? Mason mused, going through the files again. Could another Braison Family member be at the center of both deaths?
Or were Lynda and Mia’s poisoning not connected by time? And perpetrated by one or more persons outside of the Family?
When Hopper suddenly got to his feet, Mason snapped out of his reverie as Sally entered the office. She was carrying a plate of oatmeal cookies, his favorite, and said, “Thought you could use a break with some fresh-baked cookies…”
Mason grinned. “That, I could.” He watched as the dog ran up to her, seeking to get a cookie or two himself. “Looks like Hopper feels the same.”
“I guess he does.” Sally smiled while tossing the dog a cookie, which he caught in midair. She sat the plate on the desk in an empty spot. “So, how are we doing here?”
Mason almost hated to say not so good. He had filled her in on what was happening after Campbell paid them a visit. She had been nothing but supportive in his desire to assist his son in reopening the investigation that came with his biggest regret as a police detective.
“Still a work in progress,” he settled on telling her. “Could be that I’m only spinning my wheels, going nowhere fast. But it’s just as possible that there may be something here that could be a means to one end or another—”
Sally seemed amenable to whichever way this went, kissing the top of his head. Mason was left to wonder if he could ever be satisfied with never knowing who ended Lynda’s life—or why?
* * *
STEFANIE WAS IN her studio giving tai chi lessons to a group of children.
She had once been one of those children in her youth, with her parents encouraging her to develop skills in the ancient Chinese meditative martial art.
She hoped to one day teach her own children tai chi, assuming she were so blessed to become a mother someday.
The thought of Campbell being the perfect father of those children entered Stefanie’s head, making her tingle, though such a possibility was way too soon to get too out in front of.
She came back to reality for now as Stefanie went through warmups with her class of eager learners. This was followed by tai chi short forms, then breathing exercises, or chi kung, while lying down.
The goal, for both children and adults, was to improve conditioning aerobically, balance and flexibility, and upper- and lower-body muscle strength.
She was satisfied that this was happening and the participants—or in this instance, their parents—were getting their money’s worth.
Just as the class had come to an end and the children—wearing white tai chi uniforms like her own—began filing out to their waiting parents, Stefanie was surprised to see Bella strut into the studio.
For an instant, she wondered if Bella had thought that it was an adult class today but got her timing wrong.
However, as she wasn’t exactly dressed for exercise and had designer sunglasses on the top of her head, Stefanie assumed Bella was only stopping by because she happened to be in the area.
Still, Stefanie couldn’t help but say jokingly to her, “Here for some beginner tai chi?”
Bella laughed. “Not quite.” She flipped back her hair. “Just came from a meeting and thought I’d come by to say guess who paid me a visit earlier today?”
“Uh…” From the look on her face, Stefanie guessed who it might be. But said instead, “Your ex, hoping to somehow win you back?”
“Only in his dreams.” Her curly lashes fluttered frivolously. “Actually, it was your boyfriend.”
“Campbell?” The name popped out quite naturally, though Stefanie didn’t exactly think of him as her boyfriend at this point.
“The one and only,” Bella told her, hand resting on a slender hip.
“We’re not official right now,” Stefanie had to say, though they seemed to be headed in the right direction. She eyed her curiously. “So why did Campbell come to see you?”
“It wasn’t to arrest me or anything.” Bella chuckled. “He came to talk about Mia O’Dell, who worked for my father as his housekeeper.”
“Right.” Stefanie was thoughtful. “I remember you saying that.”
“Basically, Campbell just wanted to know what I knew about Mia during that time—including possible drug use—and even afterwards when she joined the Braison Family.” Bella sighed.
“I told him that my father caught Mia stealing and fired her. But I knew nothing about her taking fentanyl, for how long or who gave her the deadly drug. Or, for that matter, how she became indoctrinated by a cult.”
“Hmm…” Stefanie wiped her face with a towel.
She was surprised that Mia had been a thief.
But what did she really know about her, other than that Mia OD’d on fentanyl and was part of the Braison Family?
“I’m sure that anything you were able to tell Campbell was helpful in providing clarity to Mia’s life, leading up to her death. ”
“I hope so. But actually, it worked both ways,” Bella told her. “Since I had his attention, it gave me an opportunity to pick Campbell’s brain on his thoughts about a possible connection between Mia’s death and that of Lynda Boxleitner twenty years ago.”
“Oh, really?” Stefanie said, regarding her pensively.
“Campbell made a compelling argument that there may have been a link by bloodline and the cult to the two deaths.” Bella narrowed her eyes.
“I told him that if this proves to be true, then he should certainly do everything he can to bring whoever was responsible to justice. If that boils down to only Kenneth Braison because his father Wendell Braison is dead, then so be it.”
“I agree with you there,” Stefanie said, wondering if the Braisons were behind one or both deaths. Or were there other culprits responsible?
Bella looked at her and stated, “By the way, we talked about you, too.”
“Me?” Stefanie batted her lashes with surprise.
“Basically, we both agreed that you’re a lovely, wonderful person who deserves a second chance at love, wherever it may be and with whom—him, for instance.”
Stefanie colored. “Thanks for the show of support.” And thank you, too, Campbell, for seeming to really care for me.
“Anytime.” Bella showed her teeth. “I know you’d stick up for me were the shoe on the other foot.”
“Absolutely,” she assured her. “Well, I’d better jump in the shower. I’ll catch you later.”
“All right.” Bella pulled the sunglasses down and over her eyes. “I still want to learn tai chi one of these days.”
“Whenever you like,” Stefanie promised with a smile before heading for the locker room, thinking about Campbell and where things could go between them.
* * *
CAMPBELL WALKED INTO the office of Police Chief Gloria Schecter. Pushing sixty, she was slim in her uniform and had ash-blond hair in a piecey pixie cut. She had been a lieutenant when his father worked in the department and served as his boss.
Sitting in a brown leather chair at an adjustable-height corner desk, Gloria looked at him through oval glasses with blue eyes and said levelly, “Detective Sawyer…”
“Chief.” Campbell took a couple of steps forward. “As you know, I’m looking into the Mia O’Dell death on Founder’s Day.”
“Yes—she OD’d, right?”
“Yeah,” he responded, “and may have been helped—over and beyond tracking down the dealer—”
“Uh, okay…” Gloria sat back. “So, where are we in the investigation?”
Campbell regarded her. “I’m checking out the possibility that Mia’s death could be connected to the death of Lynda Boxleitner twenty years ago, which my father was investigating.”
Gloria leaned forward, interest piqued. “Are you, now?”