“Katie?” McGaven asked staring at her.
“Oh, sorry. Just thinking…”
“About the new case?” He finished her sentence.
“Stop doing that,” she said.
“What?”
“Finishing my sentences.”
“Well… I can’t help it.”
“Fine. Just don’t do it all the time. It’s annoying,” she said, slowly walking down the trail.
“Isn’t it a form of flattery?” He smiled as he followed her back down the hillside.
“Some would think so,” she played along. “But, it’s still annoying.” Katie began to jog slowly back down the steep trail to finish cooling down and to give McGaven a break.
Her cell phone rang.
Katie pulled it out of her pocket. “Detective Scott,” she answered. “Yes, he’s here. Okay, we’re both here now,” she said and put her cell phone on speaker for McGaven to hear as he jogged over.
“I’m glad that I caught both of you at the same place,” said Sheriff Scott. His voice was serious. “Do you remember a cold case that came across your desk recently, Candace Harlan?”
Katie had to think a moment, but it came to her. “Yes, a missing persons case—actually a runaway from foster care?”
“Yes,” he said.
Katie looked at McGaven, knowing what the sheriff was going to say—she caught McGaven’s eye and they listened intently.
“I need you and McGaven to get over to Elm Hill Mansion right now. During demolition this morning, they found a body. By description, it’s likely Candace Harlan, but we won’t know officially until the body is examined. You know the most about events surrounding Candace’s case—and I want you to be the first on the scene and to work this investigation.”
“We’re actually close. Just on our way down the Brown’s Hill trail,” she said and began walking quickly, McGaven beside her.
“Good. I need you to report to Detective Hamilton immediately.”
Katie frowned and stopped, leaving a stilted silence.
“He’s been briefed and knows you’re on your way. I need you to work the crime scene with him. This was originally a cold case on your desk, so the way I see it, you have first priority to the investigation.”
“I’m sure Hamilton has it under control,” Katie insisted. She wasn’t liked by the detective, and taking over a case like this would do nothing to alleviate the tension between them.
“Katie,” the sheriff said, “it’s not a request. So I would suggest getting to the scene ASAP.”
“Yes, sir. We’re on our way.”
The sheriff abruptly disconnected the call.
McGaven raised his eyebrows. “That wasn’t pleasant.”
“He’s been like that recently,” she said. “I can’t really blame him, under the circumstances; being the number one suspect in your own wife’s murder will have taken its toll. He’s just trying to regain his authority at the department again…” She moved faster along the path to get back to the parking area.
“I guess it is tough having the sheriff as your uncle,” he said.
“That’s an understatement.”
Three
Monday 0955 hours
McGaven parked the unmarked police sedan where he could between hastily parked work trucks, construction equipment and first responders. A number of construction workers, police officers, and people holding signs were obstructing the entrance to the property.
Katie had been informed that CSU were already inside the police-only area waiting for further orders from her. She took a moment in the car to watch the carefully controlled movements of deputies and forensic personnel protecting the crime scene by taping off areas in quadrants and shielding the body with a sheet. Most of the onlookers, including a few protesters that had hung around, pushed against the tape trying to get a look at the murder scene.
Katie opened the passenger door and stepped out, her running shoes instantly sinking into a puddle as the cool breeze whipped through her clothes. “Great,” she said, rolling her eyes as she trudged through sticky mud toward the yellow tape area. Neither Katie nor McGaven had had time to change out of their running attire, so they forged ahead without their badges and guns. At first glance, they looked like any nosy onlooker. Luckily, a patrol officer recognized them immediately and let them through.
Katie slowed her pace, taking everything in and scanning the area before making her way toward the body. Bulldozers were frozen mid-operation, towering over her. The stench of diesel masked the familiar odor of wet earth and pine trees, and all around her trenches and heaped soil battled against the run-off of water from all the rain they’d been having recently. To her left were three large metal construction containers—two had their doors wide open, but it was too dark to see inside.
It was a breathtaking site, with stunning views of the rolling valley all around and large elm and oak trees surrounding the house. The slight breeze made a whispering sound as it threaded through the leaves. It was no wonder someone would want to build their home here.
In the middle of the picture-perfect landscape stood the crippled remains of Elm Hill Mansion, clearly of no use or interest to anyone anymore and waiting to be knocked down. The once beautiful pale blue paint was now peeling from the wood in sections, leaving behind a tarnished beige undercoat—a sickly primer color beginning to seep through and take over.
If you squinted your eyes, it was easy to see that the historical house had once been a beautiful and striking manor. Two large columns at the entrance nodded to its grandeur, and several steps led up to a gorgeous double-door entrance with inlaid blue, green, and yellow stained glass depicting birds in the trees, obviously inspired by the amazing views that surrounded them. The doors hadn’t been removed yet, but it looked like they soon would be as the porch that had once wrapped around the front and sides of the mansion had already been removed and replaced with caution tape. Pretty windows on all three stories were now a misfit of broken glass and boarding. Around each window were intricately cut wood designs that added a whimsical fringe and decoration. Most were broken, hanging loose or completely absent. The wind, picking up now, caused loose pieces to rattle against the house.
Glancing behind her, Katie saw the small crowd of construction workers and a couple of other bystanders leaning over the yellow tape, trying to get a look at the scene. At least the area had been cleared quickly and there were hopes of preserving the site.
Katie and McGaven kept their course and walked toward the crime scene. Forensic Supervisor John Blackburn was organizing evidence containers and readying himself to take photographs when instructed, but he kept his distance and waited for Katie to get a first look. He nodded as she walked past.
Detective Bryan Hamilton stood next to a deputy, waiting for Katie. His perfectly pressed suit seemed out of place around the chaotic property. He appeared annoyed, running his fingers anxiously through his sparse hair, but forced a short-lived smile as she approached.
“How would you like to handle this, Detective?” Katie asked respectfully, knowing she was treading on his territory and making sure that her presence wasn’t going to cause any more antagonism than was absolutely necessary.