Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Chaos erupted around us as trainers and staff tried to settle the startled horses. I'd never really been around horses much, even though Jack's family always had a barnful of animals when we were growing up. I wasn't necessarily afraid of them, but when you saw how small and fragile humans were against a horse's towering musculature, I didn't want to take unnecessary chances.

Martinez already had his weapon out and was running toward the area where the shots had been fired. I stayed behind him and out of his way, and motioned for innocent bystanders to stay inside the stables with the horses.

"Where'd it come from?" I asked Martinez.

"I don't know," he said. "It sounded like it was right on top of us."

"It came from over there," one of the trainers said. "One of the houses."

"Make the 911 call and let them know there are officers on scene," Martinez told him, waiting until the man nodded in the affirmative.

We crept around the perimeter of one of the outbuildings.

"Look there," I said, tapping Martinez on the shoulder. "At the staff cottage next to Alex's."

The front door was ajar and there was a bag that had been dropped on the steps, its contents scattered. Martinez reached down and withdrew the revolver from his ankle holster and handed it to me.

"Just in case," he said. "Don't shoot me in the back."

I rolled my eyes. I was an excellent shot. But I was irritated with myself that I hadn't brought my own weapon. There was a time after I'd almost been strangled to death by a serial killer that I'd never left home without it. But after Jack and I had married and our lives had settled down I'd found myself not taking as much care with my personal safety.

Technically I worked under the authority of the sheriff's office. I could assist the police or make arrests. And I could open carry. But I liked to leave the police work to the police.

There were six identical houses, all white and craftsman in style so they matched the aesthetics of the stables, and they were built around a shared courtyard. The house to the right of Alex's had ferns hanging from the porch and there was a number 2 in black iron on one of the posts.

I felt eyes on the back of my neck as Martinez and I crept our way toward the cottage and up the porch steps.

"Police," Martinez yelled, announcing himself and then pushing the door open wider.

Whatever he saw had him hesitating for only a second, but he trained his weapon straight ahead.

"Drop your weapon," he commanded.

He'd opened the door wide enough so I could see the scene inside. Astrid Nielsen stood with her hands up, a gun still in her hand, and Alan Goble was propped like a broken doll against the hearth of the fireplace. His chest covered in blood.

"I need to get to him," I said, softly. "He could still be alive." I was already digging in my bag for gloves, wondering how far out the paramedics might be.

"Astrid," Martinez said again. "Put your weapon on the ground."

The color was gone from her face and her eyes were wide with shock. But she nodded stiffly and lowered the weapon, so it landed with a thunk on the wood floor.

Martinez moved in quickly and kicked the gun out of the way before putting her in handcuffs. And I ran straight for the victim, feeling for a pulse in his throat. His skin was still hot beneath my fingers and the blood oozed from his chest. I checked his eyes and searched one more time for a pulse. But he was gone. And there was no bringing him back.

I looked at his wounds. "Three gunshot wounds center mass," I told Martinez. "An excellent grouping. You could fit a playing card over all three bullet holes."

There was a sob from behind me and I turned to face Astrid.

"I had to do it," she said, her face contorted with rage. "He did it. I knew as soon as I found out about Evie that he was responsible. He killed her, and if I didn't kill him he would have gotten away with it. He would have disappeared and gotten away with it. You don't know his background. His skill set. I didn't have a choice."

"We always have a choice," Martinez said. And then he started reading her Miranda rights.

I pulled out my phone and texted Lily to meet me for retrieval.

"Guess we're not going to get to question him after all," I said.

"Is this your house?" Martinez asked, looking around.

Astrid nodded but didn't speak.

"What was Alan doing in your house?"

I was half listening to Martinez's questions while I looked over the victim. He was dressed in jeans and a thin gray T-shirt, and he was barefoot. I looked around the room, but didn't see his black anorak. But his level of comfort seemed curious, and it gave us an answer for why he hadn't been at the guardhouse. I patted down his pockets, looking to see if he was carrying anything.

I found his wallet in his back pocket and pulled it out, flipping it open to see his ID. "Alan Goble," I confirmed. And then I felt something familiar at the small of his back and pulled out a small, snub-nosed revolver similar to the one Martinez had given me.

"It just gets more and more interesting," Martinez said. "It's curious that old Al here was comfortable enough to not only be inside your house, but to walk around barefoot, especially since he was supposed to be on duty. I guess our questioning up at the house interfered with your personal time."

Astrid shook her head again, but didn't say anything. She just kept staring at the man she'd killed in cold blood.

I bagged the weapon, and stayed kneeling by the victim until I heard sirens. I knew Lily wouldn't be far behind.

"So you're telling me that lady just shot that guy in cold blood, while the house was swarming with cops?" Lily asked on the drive back to the funeral home.

"Yep," I said. "That's a first for me."

She fiddled with the radio and my lips twitched as she chose country music. Cole was indeed rubbing off on her. "Did she think she would get away with it?"

"I don't think she did," I said. "I think she fully expected to get caught and didn't care in the slightest. She just said Alan was responsible for Evie's murder and that if she didn't do it he'd get away with it."

"Vigilante nut job," Lily said.

"Certifiable," I agreed. "There was something off about her from the beginning, but I couldn't put my finger on it other than the fact that she wasn't telling us something. She and Alan obviously had some kind of relationship and maybe she found out more about him than she wanted to know. He's obviously got some kind of sexual addiction. That's the first thing everyone we've talked to has told us. He makes his rounds through the ladies."

"But just how young does he start?" Lily asked darkly.

"That's what we're about to find out," I said. "I'm hoping we find Evie Lidle's scratch marks all over him. If so, three bullet holes to the chest seems like the easy way out."

"Agreed," she said. "I was hoping for public castration."

"Ahh, the good old days," I said.

"I'm just saying this whole thing is weird."

"Maybe Martinez will be able to get something out of her," I said. "He's going to let her sit in lockup for a while. She hasn't even asked for an attorney. All of this is like adding another long day to an already long day."

I turned onto Catherine of Aragon and watched the funeral home come into view. It was nice to see a semblance of sun and sky instead of the gray clouds that had become our normal, and people were taking advantage of it. Parents were walking along the streets, talking to neighbors, while their kids rode bikes. And a group of teenagers were playing a game of football in the street since the yards were too wet.

"Long day indeed," Lily said. "If I didn't have another couple of hours of studying to do I'd be spending my night in a bubble bath with a glass of wine."

I grunted, thinking that didn't sound like a half-bad idea. I was already tired to the bone and the regular workday hadn't ended yet.

"Maybe you'll have time for both," I said, pulling under the carport. "I can cut you loose once you help me move him. This is going to be pretty standard as far as autopsies go. And if I need help I'll call Sheldon. He's not off until five."

"Really?" she asked. "That would be great. I've got exams coming up. Just to think I have three more years of this."

"It'll be over before you know it," I said. "And then you can start your residency. That's when the real fun starts."

"I'll figure that out when I get to it," she said. "I don't want to wait too long to start a family. Cole and I figured getting pregnant after med school and before residency was the right timing. I know he's worried about being too old to be a dad, but lots of people have kids into their forties and fifties now. It's no big deal."

"Does this mean you've decided to marry him?" I asked, getting out of the Suburban and going to the back. We slid the gurney out the back.

"Oh, I'd already decided I was going to marry him by our second date," she said, grinning. "I just had to let him catch up to the idea."

"Then why did you tell him no when he asked you?" I asked.

"Because he was asking because he thought that's what I wanted him to do. Which I did. But he needs to ask me because it's what he wants to do. Now he's had a couple of weeks to talk himself into the idea, so when he asks me again he'll be ready. If that makes sense."

I just grunted because none of it made sense.

"Just let me know when the wedding is," I said.

"You'll be the first," she said. "So I heard you got a dog."

I typed in the code for the lab door and waited as the door released and opened. "That's the rumor going around."

"You said you've always wanted a dog," she said.

"I have," I said. "That was part of my deprived childhood. But I think I'm just overwhelmed at the moment. I'm a delayed processor as far as emotions go, so I'm not sure this has all set in yet. And I tend to look at things through a skeptical lens anyway."

"It's a dog," she said, laughing. We rolled the gurney onto the elevator and I pushed the button to take us down. "What could possibly make you skeptical about a dog?"

"There's a certain amount of paranoia that comes with being the daughter of my parents. My father is dead, at least I think he is. But my mother is still alive out there somewhere, working for who knows what government or terrorist organization. Could be a toss-up. So when I hear that Doug found a dog caught in the creek by our house, my first thought isn't that it's an answered prayer because I've been asking for a dog."

"You think the dog has a nefarious purpose?" she asked, good humor sparkling in her eyes. "The dog is a government plant?"

"I know it sounds ridiculous," I said. "I've just learned to be cautious in life. My head is a busy and crowded place right now. I'm sure I'll process the fact that we have a dog once I see how much damage he's done to the couch. If I make it home before Jack maybe I can help salvage whatever is left."

"Jack's going to love that dog," she said. "He just has that weird hang-up about his childhood pet. It's traumatizing to lose a family pet."

"Especially when he named it after his grandmother," I said. "There aren't many golden retrievers named Barbara. May she rest in peace."

"And now he has a dog named Oscar."

We got Alan Goble lifted onto my autopsy table, and I got out the necessary paperwork and my recorder. I was already focused on the job. We knew who killed Alan Goble. But what we didn't have was motive. And while he was lying dead on my autopsy table the real case still belonged to Evie Lidle. Every hour that went without us discovering who her killer was meant he was still out there, with his sights possibly on another little girl.

"Go," I told her. "Enjoy your study time. And drink a glass of wine for me when you're done."

"You don't have to tell me twice," she said. "You want me to send Sheldon down if he's free?"

"No, thanks," I said. "I can work faster on my own. I want to get this finished so I don't miss the interview with Astrid Nielsen."

"Happy cutting," she said.

I waited until the door locked behind her before I turned on my recorder and got to work.

"Victim's driver's license identifies him as Alan Victor Goble. Age fifty-one. Brown and brown. Height is listed as six foot one and weight one hundred and ninety pounds, but I'll confirm with my own measurements."

I made sure I hadn't missed anything in the pockets of his jeans, and I checked his hands and ears for jewelry, but he wasn't wearing any. Then I got the scissor and cut the clothes from his body.

There was no dignity in death. We all left the world the same way we came into it.

I put his clothes inside a machine that vibrated at such a high frequency that any particulates that were easily missed would be shaken out into a tray to be analyzed later.

I weighed and measured him, and notated in his chart that his actual height was just under six feet. I took pictures of the intricate tattoos down his arm, and then saw he had others on his shoulder and across his back.

"Victim has scarring across ribs six, seven, and eight. Looks like from a sharp instrument of some kind, possibly a blade. Puckered scarring along right tibia, similar to that of a bullet wound. X-rays will confirm whether the bone was fractured."

I found several other scars as I examined the body of Alan Goble. I'd done autopsies on those who'd spent time in law enforcement before and the scars on his body were in line with a career spent in the line of duty. We'd request a copy of his medical file as well as his service file. I was interested to see how he'd come to be head of security for the Lidles.

"Cause of death—three gunshot wounds to the chest. Small caliber. Weapon currently in evidence with the King George Sheriff's Office."

I did a quick set of x-rays and then took a urine and blood sample. And then I prepped to make my first cut.

A little over an hour later I was rolling him into the refrigeration unit and making my last notations on his chart for Martinez. Alan Goble had been a man in the prime of his life. He'd been healthy and his system had been clean of drugs or alcohol.

I made a copy of everything, physical and digital, and then I put them on my desk to give to Martinez. I'd planned to text him and let him know I was finished, but I found myself rolling the body of Evie Lidle out and under the light.

I did another external examination, carefully checking to see if I'd missed any needle or puncture marks. How was she taken from the property without anyone hearing or seeing? I took another sample to see if her levels had changed, but there was nothing else showing up in her system but the small trace of anti-nausea medication.

She'd left that house with someone she knew. I couldn't think of another explanation.

I moved to her feet to pull the white sheet back over the small body and felt my breath hitch. My skin tingled and my lungs burned and I could feel the weight of the world bearing down on me. She was so small. So innocent. And no one had been able to protect her. Not even the people who loved her.

I could feel something welling inside of me, and I was afraid of what it would look like if it escaped. I hurriedly pulled the sheet up and rolled her back to the refrigeration unit. And then I took the stairs two at a time and ran to my office, not bothering to check if the lab door had locked behind me.

I ran into the bathroom and turned on the shower to scalding hot, and then I stripped out of my clothes and got under the spray. The tears were falling before the water could wash them away. I crumpled to the floor of the shower, the tile cold beneath me, and wept with an abandon that I'd only ever experienced once before—when I'd found out my father was still alive.

I just needed a little time to fall apart and I'd be fine. But between the fight with Jack, seeing results for one negative pregnancy test after another, and knowing the horror that Evie Lidle had suffered in her last hours, I knew it was only a matter of time before the dam broke. The human soul could only take so much, even mine after dealing with death day in and day out.

I didn't hear Jack come into the bathroom. I only felt his arms come around me as he lifted me into his lap and off the cold floor. He didn't tell me to stop my tears. He just let the water fall on us both as he held me close.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm sorry I keep pushing you away. I don't want to push you away, but it's like I can't help it. Every time one of those tests come back negative. I'm just so angry, and you don't deserve to be the target."

"We're both dealing with our anger and disappointment in our own ways," he said softly. "I know you're still here. Just like I hope you know that I'm still here for you. But this is a journey we've never been on before. And we're having to navigate our own paths. But what we have to decide is if we're going to navigate together or we're going to navigate apart. It's okay to take time to process on our own."

"But we're stronger together," I said, my hand rubbing across the hair on his chest. "I've missed you. I've needed you. I just didn't know how to tell you that."

"I know," he said, and I could feel the smile in his voice. "I'd already decided I would only give you until the end of the week to brood. But after I saw your face this morning, when you finished the autopsy on Evie Lidle, I could tell you were close to breaking. I hated having to go back to that courtroom and leave you. And I came back as soon as they dismissed me."

"Looks like it was just in time," I said. "I was downstairs. And all I could do was stare at her. She was a child. Loved. Protected. Provided for with everything money could buy. And it still wasn't enough. I don't know if I can keep doing this. Keep trying to bring a child into this world. I feel like I don't even know who I am anymore."

"I know," he said. And I could hear the sadness in his voice. "Maybe what we need to do is take a break."