Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
“PLEASE,” JOEL SAID, gesturing to the two chairs opposite his desk as they entered the sheriff’s office.
Deck pulled out one for Harper, and she sank into it.
He wanted to assure her again that they’d get him—that Nick would be behind bars not long after this conversation—but he knew only too well how the law worked and, sadly, how it could be manipulated, like his parents had done.
Or maneuvered to suit one’s pursuits, like their sister Bristol did.
He held a confident attitude for Harper and prayed he was wrong about his concerns.
Bristol. He exhaled. They’d been close as kids—the two oldest—but she’d followed right in their parents’ footsteps.
With the exception that she appeared to be working under her own code or moral compass—askew as it was.
Regardless, it broke his heart. He prayed daily that God would wrangle Bristol into His love.
Because it would take a miracle to bring her to that point.
Joel rested his forearms on his desk. “What can I help you fine folks with?”
“I’ll be direct.” Deck propped one booted foot over his opposite knee.
Joel chuckled. “You usually are.”
“We think one of my best friends was killed by her husband,” Harper said, beating him to the punch.
“Why don’t you start from the beginning.” Joel grabbed a notepad and pen.
Harper looked at Deck. “Should you begin, or should I?”
“Please.” He gestured for her to start.
“Okay.” She exhaled, shaking out her hands. “I recently got back from an overseas trip.”
Deck wondered how much she would say, but knowing how private she was, nothing would come up about what happened to her over there, and he didn’t blame her. Most people didn’t need to share as much as they thought they did.
“Upon my return,” she continued, “I learned my friend Taylor Jackson died.”
Joel jotted down notes, then looked up. “I’m assuming the manner of death indicated murder?
” The main phone line rang, but he ignored it.
When the ringing continued, he finally glanced at the phone in frustration.
“Sorry,” he said. “We’re a bit short-staffed right now.
We need a new deputy.” He glanced at the number, then clicked the voicemail button.
“That can wait.” He turned his full attention back to Harper. “You were saying?”
Harper raked a shaky hand through her hair. Deck reached over and took her other hand in his, hopefully soothing her by running his finger along her thumb. She didn’t pull her hand away, and it warmed him. She was letting him be there for her—an answer to prayer—and that meant the world to him.
“I was told she had a heart attack, but I don’t believe it.”
Joel tapped his pen against the pad. “May I ask why not?”
“For starters, no one officially declared it a heart attack.”
Joel sat back and linked his arms over his chest. “I’m going to need you to explain that one a little bit more.”
Harper explained about Nick’s decision not to autopsy and continued through it all—the journal, affair, and will.
“Okay.” Joel sat forward and lifted his pen to once again jot down notes.
“If there’s enough evidence to support what you’re claiming, then an autopsy could always be done now, but we need the proper evidence to get approval from a judge.
Especially to have an autopsy done against the husband’s wishes, and if the husband killed her, it would definitely be against his wishes. ”
“That’s the problem.” Deck shifted in his seat, draping his arms on the armrests. “There can’t be an autopsy.”
“Like I said, it depends on the circumstances, and the evidence you’re presenting.” Again, Joel tapped his pen on the legal pad.
“No. I get what you’re saying, but there can’t be an autopsy. Not in this case,” Deck continued. “Nick had her cremated right after the forty-eight-hour mark.”
“Oh. Well, that’s interesting. But again, we can’t hold the man accountable for when he chooses to cremate his wife. People grieve in different ways.”
“He’s not grieving,” Harper said in a rush, then stilled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to burst out like that. It’s just . . .” Tears filled her eyes, ready to tumble over her cheeks.
Joel tugged a handful of Kleenex from the box on his desk and handed it to Harper.
“Thank you.” She sniffed.
“I know this must be very difficult for you, and I’m sorry for your loss.
I’m just trying to play devil’s advocate because I know how these things go down in court.
If he murdered his wife, and if there is enough evidence to prove it, I’ll do everything I can to help nail him.
We just need to walk through everything. ”
Harper reached for a fresh tissue. “I understand.”
“But here’s where things get really weird,” Deck said.
Joel arched a brow. “How weird are we talking?”
Deck gestured for Harp to continue. He was so proud of her. He still didn’t understand the magnitude of what happened to her, but here she was, fighting for justice.
“We attended her remembrance ceremony at their house this morning, and while we were there, I was down at their fire pit by the river to get the fire poker, and when I pulled it out, I saw a cremation coin. As we collected it—with all protocols in place—I also found part of a small glass bottle. I think it’s from a perfume bottle.
But worse yet, her ashes were in the fire pit. ”
“Hang on. Are you saying your friend’s remains were in the fire pit?”
“I confirmed they were human remains at my lab, and the cremation coin points to them being Taylor’s. Besides, her urn was empty. The glass shard also had oleander in it. And I found part of a label in the fire pit too.”
“Oleander?”
“It’s a poisonous flower.”
“How poisonous?”
“You drink it, you’ll die. If it had been placed in a perfume bottle as we suspect, it would’ve been soaked up by her skin.
That would take longer. Maybe a couple months of daily use, but it would definitely kill you.
” She slid the toxin report on the glass shard she’d run at the lab across the desk to Joel.
He picked it up and examined it, then straightened.
“Just so I understand correctly, you’re telling me that you believe Taylor’s husband dumped her ashes into a fire along with a glass bottle that held a poisonous flower extract, which you’re guessing he used to murder her slowly until she either had a heart attack or the toxin mimicked a heart attack. Am I tracking that right?”
“I’m afraid you are,” Deck said.
“And this”—Joel held up the evidence bag with the coin in it—“you found on Nick and Taylor’s property?”
“No.” Harper shook her head. “The items were all found in a lower fire pit adjacent to their backyard, but it’s on public land, along a slope of the Rio Grande.”
Joel sat back, linking his arms across his chest, and tipped the brim of his cowboy hat up an inch.
“Since it’s not on Nick’s land, finding those things doesn’t prove he’s the one who put them there.
As close as they were, they weren’t found on his property.
You can technically prove the remains are Taylor’s because of the cremation coin but not from the ashes themselves, correct? ”
“Correct. You can’t extrapolate DNA out of cremated remains.”
“And you can prove there was oleander on the perfume bottle shard but not in the remains, am I correct?”
Harper slumped back. “Correct.”
“I’m afraid I can’t get a search warrant on those grounds. I suppose you could try to slap him with desecration of remains, but, once again, you can’t prove he did it. And he could say that’s what she wanted.”
Harper strained forward. “To have her ashes reburned?”
“Some people want a funeral pyre and then to be cast in the water. The fire pit is by the water. I’m just saying, even if you could prove he did it, he could claim a reason for it. Now, if you could prove she was poisoned, that would be a different story.”
Harper looked at Deck, her eyes radiating disappointment, then she smiled.
He cocked his brow. What was she thinking?
“Susan, Taylor’s sister-in-law, is going over tomorrow to clean out Taylor’s belongings. If she finds something that would tie directly to Taylor and could be tested for oleander, would that work?”
“Not if she touches it herself or removes it from the house. I’m sorry.
” Joel tossed his pen. “It’s as frustrating as a mule kicking himself, but in a case like this, things have to be documented, handled, and tested just right or he could walk.
But . . . if he, say, dumps all her things out in the trash by the curb, then it becomes public property.
We can legally go through his trash and test anything we can find. ”
“But the guy can’t be that dumb.” Deck reached over and took Harper’s hand.
“Just out of curiosity, what in the house could prove she was murdered?” Joel asked.
“Hair,” Harper said. “It holds DNA and would have the poison in it if it was in high enough doses to kill her.”
Joel took a deep inhale and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s just pray he’s either that stupid—”
“Which is possible,” Harper chimed in.
“Or something breaks our way.”
Fifteen frustrating and disheartening minutes later, Deck walked hand in hand with Harper to the car.
“He’s going to get away with it, that . . .” she mumbled beneath her breath. “He’s got to trip up somehow. He’s smart, but not that smart.”
“I think, since we can’t do anything with Nick and a search warrant right now, you should call Susan. Tell her not to touch Taylor’s hairbrush if she sees it. Just leave it in place. Our time will come.”
Harper looked up at him with hope. The first he’d seen of it in her striking eyes, and he loved the sight of it there. Little by little her strength to fight was coming back. “You really think so?” she asked as he opened the truck door for her.
She climbed inside and he draped his arm on top of the door. “I really believe so.”
He turned on the engine and cranked up the heat. “We’ll get him. It might just take time.” He truly believed they would—his cynical inner voice finally shushing on the matter. God was a God of justice, and Deck trusted Nick would face it one way or another.
“If he thinks we’re on to him, he’ll probably run.”
Deck reversed out of the spot and turned onto the road. “Then we’ll just have to run faster.”