Chapter 39

Seattle, Washington

Monday, March 9, 2020

As expected, reopening closed cases inside Seattle PD isn’t a simple process. Bureaucracies are like that, and the larger

they are, the slower they move. The Kent case had been reopened, but it had only circumstantial evidence. That meant that

out of our batch of cases, the only open one and our single avenue forward was the Jake Spaulding homicide in Liberty Lake.

By the time Scott and I caught up with Detective Sechrest, she had already swallowed her disappointment and pivoted to another

plan of action. Without questioning Scott’s presence, she directed us to the conference room.

“I’ve set up a Zoom call for half an hour from now. Detective Byrd is working on getting a judge to sign off on her search warrant requests. We may not have ours, but once she faxes hers over, we’ll be able to execute those. But she warned me in advance. The judge over there has agreed to issue search warrants, but he doesn’t feel we have enough to justify an arrest warrant at this time.”

That was disappointing, but search warrants were a big improvement over no warrants at all.

Prior to that moment I’d never heard of a Zoom call, but live and learn. It wasn’t actually a phone call at all since it was

done via computers. Even so, it took the better part of half an hour to get everyone online and talking to one another. Once

that finally happened, Detective Sechrest took charge.

“Since Mr. Beaumont here is the only one of us who has actually visited the suspect’s residence...” she began.

“Call me Beau, please.”

“Beau then,” she agreed. “With that in mind, I think it’s only fair to ask him how he suggests we go about approaching this.”

Luckily I had already given some thought to the search process, and I took it from there.

“The house itself looks as though it’s abandoned, but that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be searched. Constance Herzog may have

concealed evidence there. The ADU out back is where she actually resides. It’s a quilting studio that doubles as a living

space. That needs to be gone over with a fine-tooth comb. There’s a framed picture on one wall of the ADU. It’s of Constance

Herzog’s father. Be sure to take that into evidence because his involvement in a long-ago armored car robbery is likely the

source of the hundred-dollar bills found at our various crime scenes.

“This afternoon I went to see her and purchased one of her quilts, which is what the crime lab used to develop her DNA profile. To gain access, I had to enter through a gate that comes equipped with an up-to-date security system. If we search her residence first, she’ll no doubt be notified of our activity via one of her devices. Rather than give her time to start destroying evidence, I think we should execute the device warrant first, and we should do so at her workplace. Since that location happens to be Seattle’s 911 communications center, it’s bound to cause quite a stir, but that can’t be helped.”

“What next then?” Detective Byrd asked. “Her vehicles?”

“Correct,” Sandy answered. “According to the Department of Licensing, she has two—a 2018 Prius and a 2007 Dodge Caravan. Here

are the plate numbers.” She read them off. “This afternoon when Beau went to the residence, the Prius was there but the minivan

was not. That must be kept at an off-site location.

“Nine-one-one dispatchers work twelve-hour shifts, with the night shift going on duty at six p.m. According to my sources, she reported to duty on time and is still there. While Beau was at dinner, I took the liberty of

having a patrol officer drive by the residence to see if the Prius was still parked outside. It wasn’t, so presumably she

drove that to work. I currently have uniforms checking all parking facilities close to the West Precinct. When the Prius is

located, they have directions to place an AirTag on it. With search warrants only, we won’t be able to take her into custody,

but if she attempts to flee in that, or if she heads for wherever she keeps the minivan, we’ll be able to follow her movements

on my phone.”

I’m old school. Back in the day the only way to follow a bad guy in a fleeing vehicle was to keep him in view. Using an AirTag

wouldn’t have occurred to me in a million years, and I gave Sandy Sechrest high marks on that score.

“What about weapons?” Detective Miller asked. During the Zoom call those were the first words out of his mouth.

“That’s a big question mark,” Sandy answered. “Constance Herzog isn’t a registered firearms owner as far as the State of Washington is concerned, and she’s never used a handgun in the course of her crimes, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have one. We must consider her to be armed and dangerous.”

“What all are we looking for in the searches?” Scott asked, directing his question at me.

“Fentanyl and vape pens for starters,” I said. “Some money, of course, specifically old hundred-dollar bills that predate

the Treasury Department’s inclusion of security strips.”

After that a short silence fell over the room. Sandy glanced around. “Any other questions?” she asked.

“I’d be happy to join in on the search warrant team,” Detective Miller offered. “Say the word, and I’ll be there with bells

on.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Sandy answered. “I asked the captain about that. He said that due to insurance liability constraints,

only sworn Seattle PD officers can participate.”

“Wait a minute,” I objected. “I thought you said—”

She cut me off in midstream. “I know what I said. I promised you a ride-along, and I was wrong. The captain was adamant about

that. Sorry.”

Scott raised his hand. “What about me?” he asked. “Can I come?”

“You’re in,” she said. “And Ben Weston is planning on joining us, too, but for now Beau is out.”

For the next several minutes, I sat there doing a slow burn. If I was hanging around town only to be sidelined at the last

minute, what the hell was the point?

The Zoom meeting broke up a few minutes later. I told Scott that since my services weren’t needed, I was going to head home.

And that was my full intention, too. Sandy caught up with me before I boarded the elevator.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded.

“Home to Bellingham,” I growled back at her. “Obviously I’m not needed here.”

“You’re not needed for executing the search warrants,” she said, “and as I said earlier, I’m sorry about that. Orders are

orders, but I’ve got another job for you.”

“What kind of job?”

With that she held out her phone. It was turned on, and a closer inspection of the device revealed a map of downtown Seattle

with a bright red dot sitting smack in the middle of the screen.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“That’s the AirTag attached to Constance Herzog’s Prius,” she said.

“Somebody found it?”

“Yes, they did, and he called to let me know so I could turn on the tracker. The Prius is parked on the second level of a

parking garage at Ninth and Lenora, and I’m putting you on Prius-sitting duty. Since we don’t have an arrest warrant, I’m

afraid that once we execute the search at the communications center, she’ll try to make a run for it. It’ll be your job to

keep track of her and let me know where she ends up.”

With that, Sandy gave me her phone. That’s when I noticed that a Post-it was attached to the back. On it were written the

numbers 551980.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“My birthday,” she answered. “It’s also my password. I’m what my dad called a Cinco de Mayo baby. The phone is fully charged,

but if it happens to turn itself off, you’ll be able to use the password to turn it back on. The moment that Prius moves out

of its parking place, I want to know about it.”

“If I have your phone, how do I call you?” I asked.

Sandy looked momentarily perplexed. “Call Scotty, then,” she said finally. “I’ll bet you have his number.”

My slow burn vanished.

“Roger that,” I said, stepping into the elevator and giving her a mock salute. “Happy searching.”