Callahan and Lusco were trying to make their second personal call of the day. They’d already been lost once on the curving, sloped streets in the West Hills of Portland. Frustrated with the snowy weather, Mason was thankful he’d switched to his Blazer, leaving the useless rear-wheel-drive government sedan at home. A good decision. Several of the snow-packed, narrow streets were steep and treacherous. At least the sanding crews had made a pass through the area.
“God help them if they ever have a fire up here, they won’t be able to get out, let alone get a fire truck in.” Ray was grumbling, riding shotgun as navigator. He glanced up from his crumpled MapQuest printout. “Over there. That’s it.”
Mason stared at the big home. “Are you sure?” Dr. Campbell didn’t have a private dentistry practice. She just taught at the dental school and took on forensic cases. How’d she afford a home like that?
The house was old Portland. Mason estimated that it had been built around 1900, give or take twenty years. Multiple gables and a wraparound porch gave it an open, friendly look. Impeccably maintained, the two-story house showcased a velvet lawn of snow, manicured landscaping, and pure white siding. Tall, stately old firs added to the prestigious aura of the neighborhood.
People who lived up here didn’t have big box homes with three-car garages and pools. No evenly spaced snout houses where the sole difference was the shade of the exterior paint. That wasn’t what these homeowners wanted; they wanted quality, history.
Mason pulled up behind a Land Rover at the curb. He noted all the cars parked on the narrow street, a few blanketed by nature like they hadn’t budged since the first snowfall a week ago. Most of the homes had a narrow driveway leading to the back of the house, where gardening tools probably filled the old single-car garage.
Ray stepped out of the Blazer and eyed the expensive vehicles lining the street. Mercedes, Lexus, BMW. “How do these people sleep at night with their cars parked on the street? Do they have invisible force fields to keep out the car thieves?” Mason knew Ray locked up his two-year-old Chevy in the garage every night.
Through the snowfall, Mason noticed a square sticker on the rear window of the freshly parked Land Rover. It was a parking permit for The Oregonian.
“I don’t think she’s alone.”
Michael Brody was trying to take over the interview. The tall man was intense, nearly rude. Mason bit his cheek and kept his temper in check. He’d allowed Brody to sit in once the man had agreed to be there exclusively as support for Dr. Campbell, not as a reporter.
“Is it possible the wrong man was put in prison a decade ago? Or maybe Cal Trenton was a copycat murder?” Brody asked.
“I’m not going to speculate. We’re looking at every angle.” Mason had already repeated the same line three times. The damned reporter had a mind that never stopped hypothesizing and scrutinizing. Mason had checked out the man after reading his front-page coverage of the case. Everyone had said the man was obsessive when he was sniffing out a story and brutally honest in his writing.
Mason purposefully turned to Dr. Campbell, hoping Brody would shut up for a minute. She tensely perched on the edge of the couch in the huge formal living room. A room that looked straight from a snobby decorating magazine. Dark hardwood floors gleamed, white baseboards and crown moldings set off the designer wall paint.
Dr. Campbell wore a red ski sweater and jeans. With her hair pulled back, she looked eighteen. If you didn’t look in her eyes. They were cautious, measuring, and guarded. She exuded a professional, calm control that reminded Mason of a skilled surgeon during a routine tonsillectomy. If he hadn’t seen her struggling to hold herself together last Saturday morning, he’d believe nothing could rattle her.
Brody hovered over her, sitting on the arm of the couch, coiled to attack if something threatened her.
He reminded Mason of a hawk.
“Are you sure you’ve never met Calvin Trenton before?” Mason asked again. He was still trying to find a connection between Trenton’s badge and Suzanne’s remains.
Dr. Campbell threw up her palms. “I cross paths with hundreds of patients every year. I don’t keep track of names. Plus, I’ve worked with several police departments in investigations, including Lakefield and Corvallis. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d met him.”
Ray’s cell phone rang. Glancing at it, he rose from his chair and stepped into the kitchen for some privacy.
Pausing the interview until Ray returned, Callahan searched for polite small talk. Something he was lousy at. “Nice house.”
She grabbed at the offered branch. “Thank you. It belonged to my parents. This is where I grew up.”
“Your parents don’t live here anymore? Just you?”
Dr. Campbell shook her head. “My mother died several years ago. Dad couldn’t bear to live here any longer, and he couldn’t bring himself to sell it. Now it’s mine.”
“Your father’s the chief medical examiner of Oregon.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” She didn’t expand.
Brody cleared his throat and silently communicated something to Dr. Campbell as she glanced his way. She gave him a tiny shake of her head.
Mason felt shut out.
These two were tight. Their body language spoke of intimacy, but they didn’t act like a dating couple. “How do the two of you know each other?”
They exchanged another look. Brody shrugged and pulled out his iPhone, giving it his attention, letting her answer the question.
She gave the reporter a glare, but turned polite eyes on Mason. “We met downtown. I didn’t have a ride home late one night, and Michael offered to drive me.”
She accepted a ride from a stranger? Mason didn’t think so. His expression must have reflected his disbelief because she hurried to clarify.
“I was having a problem with my um...date, outside a restaurant. He’d had too much to drink, and Michael stepped in when things started to get...rough.”
From the shuttered look on her face, Mason figured “rough” was putting it mildly. With grudging respect, he took an appraising look at the hawk on her right.
“I broke his nose.” Brody mildly tossed out the comment. He was still focused on his iPhone. Before Mason could comment, Ray appeared.
“Mason.” Pale, he spoke from the doorway to the kitchen and jerked his head for Mason to join him.
“What’s happened? What’s going on?” Brody interjected.
Out of the corner of his eye, Mason saw that the hawk had scented something. Brody had finally looked up from his cell, and his gaze tracked Mason as he strode to the kitchen.
Ignoring him, Mason’s eyes locked with Ray’s. Whatever Ray had to tell, it wasn’t good.
“They’ve found another murder they think is related to this case,” Ray whispered.
“Who? Where?” Damn it, Ray, spit it out.
“Joseph Cochran.”
Mason searched his memory and came up empty. “Who?”
“Former DA from Benton County. He’s been in private practice in Lake Oswego for a while.”
“Benton County. That’s Corvallis, right?” Mason’s brain was making leaps he didn’t want it to do.
“He was the prosecutor in the DeCosta case,” Ray stated.
“And that coincidence makes it part of ours? Just because we’ve got a DeCosta connection with the Mills girl?” Mason could picture the tall man now. Joseph Cochran had publicly sworn on television that he’d nail the “demented killing bastard.” Then he’d gone after DeCosta like a shark after bloody chum. And succeeded.
Ray cleared his throat and shifted his eyes to the kitchen doorway, checking for listeners. “There’s a baggie of hair with the body.”
“Whose hair?”
“Short, gray. They’re gonna test it, but it’s a visual match to Cal Trenton.”
“Christ.” They had to get to that scene. Mason started back to the living room to excuse them, but abruptly swung around to face Ray. Something nagging at the edge of his brain. Why would Cal Trenton’s...?
“Trenton. Was he involved in the DeCosta case?”
Comprehension spread across Ray’s features. “He had to be. Somehow. Shit. Why didn’t we look into that earlier?”
Mason had an idea how to get instant confirmation on their theory. His pounding boots entered the living room, startling Dr. Campbell and Brody, who had an ear to his cell phone.
“Dr. Campbell. You testified at the DeCosta trial. Do you remember any of other people that testified against him?”
“I guess.” She looked reluctant to dig up painful memories. “Why?”
“I think the name Calvin Trenton might make a connection for you now.”
Staring at him, Dr. Campbell’s eyes widened, and Mason could see the mental click. “He was one of the cops who arrested him. I remember now,” she whispered. “There were at least a dozen cops who testified in the trial, but his testimony was the important one. He nearly cried on the stand as he described DeCosta’s torture chamber and weapons. I had to leave the courtroom.” She swallowed hard, and Mason worried she would be ill.
The memories were coming back to Mason. As a member of the task force he’d encountered a hundred cops while working on the Co-Ed killings. At Dr. Campbell’s description, he also remembered watching the tough cop nearly crack on the witness stand.
“Joseph Cochran’s been murdered.” Brody slid his phone back in his pocket.
Three pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. One confused and two annoyed.
“Damned press,” mumbled Ray.
Brody gave Mason a slow predator’s smile. “That’s right. You can’t keep your secrets for very long. There’s always someone who likes to talk.”
“I know that name. He was the district attorney in the DeCosta trial.” Dr. Campbell broke the tension between the men. “What’s going on? Who’s killing these men? DeCosta’s dead. Right?” She pushed up off the couch as her voice rose, seeking confirmation from Mason’s eyes.
“That’s right. The man is dead.” Mason could tell his words didn’t assure her. The dentist was visibly shaking. He turned to Ray. “I need the name of every person involved in putting DeCosta in prison.”
“Shit.” Brody stood and firmly wrapped one hand around Dr. Campbell’s upper arm. “Lace. You’re one of them.”
Dr. Campbell paled, her gaze locked with Mason’s. “My testimony put him away.”
Mason held her gaze, flashes of Cal Trenton’s tortured body flashing through his mind. Fuck! Was she on somebody’s kill list too?
Mason turned to eye the big windows. “You got a security system?”
“I’m calling right now.” Lacey was already dialing her phone.