McGaven sat at his desk deep in research on the computer. His short hair had already dried and he looked refreshed now dressed in his slacks and long-sleeved shirt. Katie could smell the lemony shampoo he often used.
“You beat me,” she said.
“Well, I don’t need to get all dolled up.”
“Funny.” She dropped her jacket on her desk. “What are you looking at here?”
“I’m trying to locate more about the Elm Hill Mansion, but I’m just finding rumors and ghost stories, nothing that is worthy of the investigation.”
Katie pulled the missing persons file for Candace Harlan and grabbed a notebook. “This is Candace’s file. It was in a stack with several others I had been considering for our next case. Wow, there’s not much to the report.”
Turning his chair towards her, he said, “So what do we have?”
“Five years ago, last June, Shelly McDonald, manager at the house, called the police to report that one of the foster girls in her care was missing. Candace Harlan, sixteen years old, five foot seven, 125 pounds, brown hair, hazel eyes, last seen wearing a white nightgown. There were a few clothing items missing, such as her favorite pink sweater,” Katie said, reading the basic information and pausing to look at her photograph. Reading down, she said, “It looks like the deputy that took the report was… Deputy Hugh Keller.”
“Oh,” said McGaven in a dull tone.
“What?”
“Keller was fired about a year and half ago.”
“For?”
“Not following orders, using excessive force. He wasn’t cut out to be a police officer.”
“That’s a nice way of putting it.”
“Oh, and he was a jerk.”
“Okay, that’s better,” she smiled. “According to McDonald, Candace was there at bed check around 11 p.m., but in the morning she was gone. She said that she thought she ran away with a boyfriend—but didn’t have a name.”
“How many other girls were there living at the house?”
“It refers to six, including Harlan: Mary Rodriguez, Tanis Jones, Heather Lawson, Terry Slaughter, and Karen Beck. The other girls were all accounted for.”
“And none of them knew what happened to her?” he said.
“They spoke to them all. Her roommate, Tanis Jones, stated that Candace was there when she went to sleep and was gone in the morning.” Katie frowned. “Wouldn’t you think that the roommate would have some idea what happened?”
“Maybe, but maybe she didn’t care, or maybe she was sworn to secrecy.”
“It says here that Candace didn’t have any family. She was given up for adoption—which never happened, so unfortunately she stayed in the foster care system for her entire childhood.”
“That’s really sad.”
Flipping through pages, she said, “There are notations here for other report numbers.”
“Let me see.”
Katie turned the file to McGaven. “Oh, that means there were police calls to the house. That seems like a lot of calls for assistance.”
“How many?”
“Seventeen.”
“That’s excessive. Make sure we get all those reports and the names of the reporting deputies too.”
“On it,” he said. “Don’t you want to start your profile of the killer?”
“Not just yet. For now I’m more interested in the location, and why the killer thought it was a perfect place to bury a body. Why there and not in some rural area where it wouldn’t be found?” She strained her view to see what McGaven had on the screen.
“Okay,” he said and turned the laptop so that Katie could see it. “The current owners of Elm Hill Mansion are listed as Magnum Development, Incorporated.”
“I’ve never heard of them.”
“Seems Magnum Development, Incorporated, or MDI, is a company with many offices nationwide, but their main offices are in Miami, Florida.”
“Interesting,” she said.
“Previous owners?”
“Sara and Jonathan McKinzie.”
“Local?”
“No. Well…” McGaven stalled.
“Well what?”
“When I try to get their address, or at least mailing address, it’s like I’m being taken on a wild goose chase.”
Katie frowned and thought about reasons why someone would not want their personal information on public record. “What about the real estate transaction, new ownership, or escrow paperwork?”
“I don’t know. I don’t seem to be able to find anything right off. It looks like it was paid in cash.”
“What is the actual address that the county assessor’s office has on file?” she asked.
“I have 403 Elm Hill Road, but…”
Katie read over his shoulder. “But there’s also an older address of 407 Elm Hill Road. So… which one is correct?”
“Maybe the property was divided up and there is more than one registered address? I just can’t seem to locate them.” He sighed. “I can’t even find the basic info on the house, like square footage or exactly how much land there is.”
Katie stood up and pulled over the movable whiteboard so that they could both see it. “I guess we need to start with what we know right now.” She picked up a black marker and began writing down several headings: Crime Scene, Body, Victim, Elm Hill Mansion, and Killer.
“Okay.”
“Excuse me,” came a voice from behind them.
“Hey, Denise,” said Katie, turning and smiling at her friend who supervised the records division.
McGaven immediately stood up.
“Hi,” said Denise to him.
“Hi.”
“Here’s the information from Detective Hamilton from the Elm Hill place.” She put the file on Katie’s desk.
“Thanks,” Katie said.
“And, I was supposed to tell you both that the sheriff wants daily updates—beginning at the end of today.”
Katie groaned.
“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”
“No, you’re not,” said Katie. “It’s just that this was supposed to be Hamilton’s case and we don’t even know the identity of the victim yet. Well, we do, I guess, but it’s not official.”
“And on that note,” said Denise. “I’ll let you two get back to work.”
“Bye, babe,” said McGaven. “I mean, Denise.”
“Bye,” she said and was gone.
“Oh brother,” Katie said.
“What?”
“You guys are too cute.”
“Give me a break…”
Flipping open Hamilton’s case file, Katie quickly perused the information. “There’s not much here beyond what we already know. Except he has the names of all the workers and the foreman. But…”
“But what?” McGaven asked looking at Katie.
“You said Magnum Development?”
“Yeah.”
“Here, it says that the demo company is Edison, Fullerton, and Taylor Demolition Company.”
McGaven scrolled through the computer. “I don’t see that name anywhere connected with Elm Hill Project.”