High in Trial

TWELVE

Five hours before the shooting





Buck stopped by the office at change of shift, as was his habit. Even on his rare Saturdays off—of which this was not one—he liked to get a report from the night shift and check for bulletins or updates that might have come in on the computer overnight. This time of year things were pretty quiet around the county; the kids were still in school and the tourists hadn’t started getting lost in the woods or running their cars off a cliff, and if anything major had happened while he was away someone would have called. Still, he liked to check.

“Four DUIs, two domestics, one B and E,” reported Ham Broker, his night Charge Officer.

“Turns out it was the complainant’s son, trying to sneak back into the house after curfew. Syd Evans ran his car into a tree over on Blue Moon Trail, but he’s okay. The man’s blind as a bat after dark. We’re going to have to do something before he hurts himself.”

“Sounds like a light night for a Friday,” Buck said. He glanced through the duty log on the way to his office. He called good morning to the guys who were filling their coffee cups and good night to the ones who were just leaving.

“You know what else we need to do,” Ham said, following him.

“Hire two new deputies.”

“At least. One good case of flu and this county will be wide open.”

“I’m working on it, Ham.” Because he knew that sounded a little short, he glanced up and added, “I appreciate the job you boys are doing.”

Ham rubbed his cheek wearily. “Ah, hell, Buck, we know you’re doing the best you can. It’s just with tourist season coming on and some of the guys are worried about vacation time…”

Buck said, trying for that just right note between patient understanding and confident authority that Roe always used to master so effortlessly, “I know. I’m working on it.”

Ham looked as though he wanted to say something else, but settled for, “Well, I’m ready for some shut-eye. Oh, Rosie said before she left last night to make sure you saw that.” He gestured to a printout on top of Buck’s desk. “An APB on some fellow by the name of Jeremiah Berman. Came in after you left yesterday afternoon. She said you’d tagged him.”

The Hanover County Sherriff’s Department was routinely notified of all APBs in the tri-state area because of their proximity to the junction of North Carolina, South Carolina, and Tennessee. The sheer numbers would have been overwhelming, so only those alerts with a specific reference to Western North Carolina—or those that had been specifically requested by law enforcement in the area—were directed to the Sheriff’s Department inbox. After learning of Berman’s parole violation yesterday, Buck had put in a routine request for an alert if and when his name came up in the system. He hadn’t expected such a quick response.

There was such a jumble of papers on his desk that Rosie had taken to flagging the important ones with red sticky notes. Now there were so many red sticky notes that the word “urgent” had lost its meaning. Buck scrambled among the papers until he found the printout of the computerized bulletin and scanned it quickly.

“Looks like he drove off without paying at a gas pump in South Carolina,” Ham supplied. “The police traced the plates and found they were stolen. Parole violation, theft by taking, armed and dangerous.”

The printout included two camera shots: one of a thin-faced man with a scraggly beard, the official prison ID photo, and the other of a six-year-old blue Chevy pickup truck. Unfortunately for Berman, the angle of the camera also clearly showed the presence of an M14 rifle casually stored behind the passenger seat. Failure to report to his parole officer was one thing. Possession of a firearm while in commission of a crime was something else altogether. And Buck couldn’t help noticing the irony of the fact that the technology that might have proven Berman’s innocence twenty years ago was now going to send him back to prison for what might be a very long time indeed.

“Do we need to keep a lookout for this fellow, Sheriff?”

Buck frowned as he read the paper. “Killianville?” he said. “That’s nowhere around here, is it?”

“Nah, it’s farther toward the coast. You’re headed toward Charleston, you’ll see exits for Surreytown, Killianville, Pembroke. Two hundred miles away, easy.”

Buck relaxed. “Well, that’s something anyway.” He slid behind the desk and unlocked his computer, still puzzling over the printout. “Why the hell South Carolina?”

Ham said uncertainly, “Something we need to know, Sheriff?”

“Hmm?” Buck tapped the Enter key impatiently, urging the screen to come up. He glanced at Ham absently. “No. Nothing yet. Get some sleep, Ham. Tell Adele hi for me, okay?”

“Yes, sir. Okay, will do. Have a good day now.”

But Buck was already deep into the information on the screen, and he didn’t even notice when Ham left.

He was still researching updates when his cell phone rang ten minutes later. He glanced at the caller ID and answered with, “Hey. Listen to this. Berman apparently left Georgia yesterday after ‘borrowing’ his brother’s pickup truck with an M14 in the back. Changed license plates somewhere in South Carolina and stole a tank of gas late last night in Killianville. Abandoned the truck in a mall outside of Pembroke, where we can assume he picked up another car. The rifle wasn’t found.”

Wyn said, “Good morning. I love you too.”

He winced and refocused. “Hey, hon. I’m sorry. I can’t get this thing off my mind.”

“That’s okay. Actually, great minds obsess alike. I had an idea after we talked last night. Remember we sent Smokey Beardsley upstate for possession five years ago? I did an inmate search, and guess where he ended up? Marion Correctional Institute, same as his old buddy Berman. Now, I’m not saying they were cozying up together or anything, but what do you think the chances are that the two of them didn’t get together to talk about old times?”

Buck sat up straighter. “Damn it, you’re right. Smokey got out last spring. He’s been keeping his nose clean, more or less…”

Wyn gave a disbelieving sniff. “As far as anyone can tell.”

“But if a guy like Berman wanted a contact on the outside…”

“It might be worth a trip down a dirt road to talk to him.”

Buck closed his eyes slowly. “Damn,” he said. “I miss you.”

“Always just a phone call away,” she returned brightly.

“And seventy-two miles.”

“Well, there’s that.”

After a silence, he said, “What are you doing today?”

“Buying oranges, getting my hair cut, going for a run, doing laundry. You?”

“Talking to Smokey Beardsley.” He hesitated. “Not too short.”

“What?”

“Your hair. I like it long.”

She laughed. “Later, alligator.”

“Hey,” he said. “Good morning. And I love you.”

Her voice was soft. “Back at you, big guy.”

She disconnected with a click, and he was once again alone with the computer screen.



* * *



Everyone gathered in the far corner of the parking lot, the one nearest the woods, and watched the coroner’s van take Marcie away. There was a crime scene van, three police cars, two detectives, two hotel security guards, and a growing contingent of hotel guests with their dogs. A frantic hotel manager with spiked blond hair kept a cell phone pressed to his ear while he paced back and forth, and a couple waitresses from the dining room brought trays of coffee and Danish, their eyes big with curiosity and dread. A portion of the field and the parking lot had been taped off, and most of the curious onlookers were kept on the far side of that tape. Those of us who were considered material witnesses, however, were confined inside the barrier. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

The detective said, “So you were walking your dog this morning when you found the victim in the woods. Is that correct?”

I wasn’t sure how many times I’d repeated my story. I wasn’t sure how many times I’d have to repeat it before they got it right.

“No,” I said. I felt Miles’s hand on my shoulder, gently kneading the knots that were tightening at the base of my neck. I took a breath and spoke more calmly. “The victim’s—Marcie’s—dog was running loose. My dog is a trained search dog. He tracked the runaway dog. But it was her dog, Flame, who led us to her.”

“Is that a fact?” The detective looked up from his notebook, appearing interested. “A trained search dog, huh?”





“We’re with Mountain Wilderness Search and Rescue,” I explained wearily. “Western North Carolina.”

He pursed his lips in a way that was meant to indicate he was impressed. “So what are you doing down this way?”

“There’s a dog show.”

He glanced around at all the dogs and uneasy-looking handlers gathered both inside and outside the taped barrier. “No kidding? My wife has a poodle. She always talked about showing it.”

“This isn’t that kind of dog show.”

I glanced down at Cisco, who’d grown bored with all the standing around and was lying at my feet. Miles had wanted to take him back to the room, particularly at the height of all the excitement and confusion, but he clearly didn’t understand how it was with us. My hand was melded to the leash now. Without the warmth of Cisco’s body heat against my foot, I would’ve felt like a part of me was missing. And I wasn’t the only one. None of the women who gathered around with such anxious, disbelieving looks on their faces had seen fit to leave their dogs in the car. When you’re scared, you want your best friend with you. That’s just the way it is.

Miles said, “Someone called Raine’s room last night trying to get her to come to the front desk. You’ll find a complaint on record with the night manager. It looks as though someone was trying to lure women from their rooms in the middle of the night.”

Of course, in the horror of the moment, the whole story of the call in the night, as well as the story of the man who’d tried to sneak into the building under Sarah’s key card, had come tumbling out. The white line that appeared around Miles’s lips when I finished telling it was still visible.

I repeated the story of the incident now to the detective, who took it down dutifully. When I finished, he said, “Yes, I have a statement already from a Sarah Lissick about the man who tried to get into the building. Her description was fairly general, but it was something to go on at least.”

I swallowed hard. “Marcie wasn’t at dinner when we were talking about it. We all agreed to walk our dogs in the courtyard last night, but Marcie didn’t know.”

The detective said, “Thank you, Ms. Stockton. I think we have everything we need now. We have your cell phone number if we have any more questions.”

“What about her boyfriend?” Miles said. “Neil…”

He glanced at me questioningly, and I supplied, “Neil Kellog.”

“He seemed pretty upset when he was arguing with her yesterday,” Miles said, “and more than capable of violence. I heard him threaten her. Someone should talk to him.”

“He’s on our list,” the detective assured him.

I said, “They were arguing about the dog, Bryte. Neil wanted to take her home, but yesterday afternoon when Marcie came back to the hotel, she had Bryte with her. And there was a man with her too. I don’t know who he was.”

The detective was taking notes again, but I was concerned with more immediate matters. “Someone needs to get the dogs home. Does anyone know who’s supposed to be in charge of the dogs?”

A member of the hotel staff had unlocked Marcie’s room at the request of the police, and poor Bryte was finally freed. Who knew how long she’d been locked in there alone, barking for help? I volunteered to put both dogs in my SUV until someone made a decision about what to do with them.

The medical examiner said the cause of death was most likely strangulation, although the bruises and lacerations on her body suggested she’d been badly beaten first. I hadn’t heard her give a time of death, but it wasn’t hard to figure out. Marcie had been wearing the same clothes she’d worn yesterday, so it was probable she’d been lying out in the woods all night. Of course, she might have gotten up this morning and put on the same outfit just as I had done, but I had a different theory. At dinner she’d mentioned Flame had an upset stomach. She must have taken her out sometime last night, and she’d never come back. When the assailant grabbed Marcie, she would have dropped the leash, and Flame got away. The poor dog spent the entire night running in hopeless terror, looking for help, until she’d spotted Cisco and me this morning. And even then, we hadn’t understood what she’d been trying to tell us. Or at least I hadn’t.

When I travel, I keep an emergency contact form for my dogs right next to the emergency contact information on myself, so whoever is in charge of taking care of me will know who to call to come get my dogs. Maude would drive any distance for my dogs, and so would Buck if it came to that, so those are the numbers I list, along with specific instructions that my dogs are not to be taken to an animal shelter and a promise to pay any boarding or vet fees that accrue. Why doesn’t everyone do that? And why doesn’t the premium form for every dog event require you to give specific instructions for the disposition of your dog in case you’re incapacitated?

My mind was wandering, and I almost missed the detective’s question.

The detective said, “Can you describe him?”

I blinked, surprised to feel the hot wetness in my eyes. “Who?”

Miles squeezed my shoulder reassuringly and pressed another paper cup of coffee into my hand. I said, “Oh. The man. He was tall, light-haired. Broad-shouldered. I didn’t see his face. I got the impression they were close. Marcie seemed upset and he comforted her. I thought he might be staying here with her, but I guess not.”

“Had you ever seen him before?”

“No. But I’d never seen Marcie before yesterday, either. Someone who knows her could probably identify him.”

“But he wasn’t with her when you saw her at dinner last night?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t think it was my place to ask about him. Like I said, I didn’t know her that well.”

The detective said, “Thank you for your help, Ms. Stockton.” He handed me a business card. “We’ll be in touch if we need anything more.”

I said, “If I were you, I’d check the emergency rooms for dog bite cases.”

He looked puzzled and I explained, “If she was walking her dog when she was abducted, the man probably had to fight off Flame. Her dog. Border collies can be nervous. They have a reputation for biting first and apologizing later when they’re threatened.” I shrugged. “Just an idea.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Not a bad one. I’ll put someone on it.”

He moved away and Cisco stood and stretched, ready now to get on with his day. Miles kept his hand on my back as we left the cordoned-off area, lifting the tape for Cisco and me to duck under. “Why don’t you give Cisco some breakfast and get your things packed?” he said. “I’ll settle the bill.”

It’s funny how the mind works. I wasn’t really planning to go to the fairgrounds and run jumpers-with-weaves today as though finding a fellow competitor murdered in the woods was just a minor interruption to my schedule, but for some reason I hadn’t considered not going, either. I certainly hadn’t planned to just pack up and go home.

“Do you mean—check out?”

“You certainly don’t intend to stay here.” It wasn’t a question. “In fact, I’d be very surprised if any of the guests do once they know what happened.” He slipped his arm around my waist in a brief hug. “Tell you what. We’ll drive down to the beach, get an ocean-front suite, take Cisco for a run—they allow dogs on the beach until May—and I know this great place for dinner right on the waterfront. Mel’s flight doesn’t get in until eight tomorrow night, so we still have most of the weekend.”

I said, “I don’t want to go to the beach.”

His hand slid away from my waist. “Well, you’re not staying here.”

It didn’t matter how right he was; there’s something about being told what I will and will not do that has always set my teeth on edge. “I’m a grown woman. I can stay wherever I want to.”

Those gorgeous gray eyes of his can be as hard as flint when the circumstances dictate. I felt chilled just looking at them. “Do you remember when you were talking earlier about having important things to fight about? This is one of them.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Miles.” I turned on my heel, and he grabbed my arm. Cisco barked once, sharply. Had Flame barked like that last night when a stranger grabbed Marcie in the dark?

I pulled my arm away from Miles and dropped my hand quickly to Cisco’s head. My sweet dog looked embarrassed to have let his nerves, which had to be as edgy as mine, get away with him. “It’s okay, boy.”

Cisco shook himself, grinned, and by way of apology, raised himself on his back paws and placed his front paws on Miles’s torso. Miles obligingly rubbed his shoulders, but his eyes were unsmiling on mine. “Talk some sense into her, will you, fellow?”

Cisco bounced all four paws on the ground and looked up at me with anxious eyes, possibly hoping I would remember his breakfast, possibly sensing, in the way dogs have, the discord between the two humans who were responsible for his care and hoping for nothing more than peace. I could have used a little peace myself at that moment.

Miles said, making an obvious effort to moderate his tone, “Okay, how about this? Let’s get Cisco situated and then talk about it over breakfast.”

“I can’t eat anything. I’m going to throw up.”

A faint smile traced the corners of his lips. “You’re not going to throw up. You’re my hero.”

I tried to smile back and couldn’t manage it.

Miles said, very quietly, “She was wearing your sweatshirt, Raine. When I looked at her… it could have been you. If you had listened to that jerk on the phone last night, if you had left your room…”

I felt my throat clutch. “I would never leave my room in the middle of the night.”

“Are you kidding me?” The anger was back. “You do it all the time. You’ve done it twice since I’ve been here!”

“But I always have Cisco—”

I broke off at the flare of infuriated exasperation in his eyes, because I knew what he was thinking: Marcie had Flame, too. Just like the rest of us, she felt safe with her dog.

I shifted my gaze away, embarrassed and defensive and deeply uncomfortable. “Do what you have to,” I mumbled. “I have Marcie’s dogs in my car. I need to make arrangements for them.”

“Does that mean you’re leaving with me?”

Strong emotion, especially when I don’t understand it, often makes me say stupid things. I snapped back, “I didn’t come here with you, did I?”

A woman’s voice spoke behind me. “Excuse me, ma’am?”

Someone touched my shoulder lightly and I spun around. “What?”

I found myself looking at a well-groomed and perfectly made-up young woman with a microphone in her hand. Behind her was a much less well-groomed young man in baggy jeans and a tee shirt with a camera mounted to his shoulder. She said pleasantly. “Carolina Mays from WCGA News.” She pronounced it Caroleena. “Are you the person who found the victim?”

As I might have mentioned, I’m used to being interviewed, and so is Cisco. I said, “That’s right.”

“Do you mind talking with us about it, Ms.…”

“Stockton,” I supplied. “Raine Stockton.”

Cisco sat beautifully at my side and I saw the camera guy lower his shot to focus on my dog. That was good. At this hour of the morning, I was no competition for Cisco in a beauty contest.

The reporter said, “I understand you were walking your dog when you came upon the body in the woods.”

I sighed and began the story again. “No. My dog is a trained search dog…”

The interview took five or six minutes and included several close-ups of Cisco’s intelligent golden face, which I knew would be reduced to ten seconds on the noon news. When the reporter and cameraman moved off in search of other interviewees, I turned back to Miles, but he was gone.

* * *

It probably shouldn’t have surprised me that Ginny and Aggie were a veritable font of information for the police, and Sarah, of course, was interviewed extensively about the incident with the man who tried to follow her into the building. I waited until Aggie was in between interviews and waved her over.

“How are you holding up?” she insisted, squeezing my arm. “What an awful thing. I can’t believe we were almost out of the parking lot when we saw the ambulance. We wouldn’t have known what happened until we got back tonight! And then it would be too late to find another hotel. Someone needs to tell the people who’ve already gone to the fairgrounds. I texted the trial secretary, but I haven’t heard anything back. I can’t imagine anyone will feel safe here tonight. I know Ginny and I are going straight home after the competition today. No ribbon is worth this. Are you okay? I’d have nightmares for the rest of my life.”

I said, “Do you know what Marcie would want us to do with the dogs? Does she have any relatives or anyone who would come get them?”

Aggie frowned. “Oh, dear. Well, there’s Neil, of course. He is the co-owner of the dogs.”

We looked at each other, but there really was no need to say it. Nonetheless, Aggie did, albeit in a much lower tone. “Of course, since he’s probably going to end up in jail…”

“We don’t know that.”

“Oh, honey, you were right there yesterday when they had that big fight, and everybody heard him threaten her! And that’s not even the worst. Why, Marcie told me…”

I said firmly, “I’m sure the police will get to the bottom of what happened to Marcie. In the meantime, Neil is the legal co-owner of the dogs and he’s the one we need to contact. Do you know how to reach him? The contact name on the dogs’ tags is Marcie’s.”

She still looked reluctant. “He was supposed to run Bryte this afternoon. I guess you could try him at home, but…”

“You don’t happen to know where I could find his number?”

“No, but Marcie said he has a place in town. He shouldn’t be too hard to find.” She shook her head sadly. “It’s just so unbelievable. Maybe someone in the club knows if she has any relatives. I’m sure someone is taking care of her other dogs back home. Ginny and I will ask around when we get to the fairgrounds and see if anyone has any ideas. But if all else fails, we’ll be glad to take the dogs home with us and keep them until things are settled. You know, in case Neil can’t.”

“That would be great. I know her family will appreciate that. Meanwhile, though, I think I should try to find Neil.”

Aggie nodded agreement and returned a wan smile. “If the police don’t find him first.”





~*~