Exposing Truths: A Sam Mason Mystery Book 3 Read online

  Summer shook her head. “No. I didn’t —”

  “Are you sure?” Jo cut in. “Because right now we have the rest of the White Rock Police Department checking your alibis. One of them is at The Carrington House looking to prove you lied about your whereabouts the night Ray was murdered.”

  “What do you mean?” Summer asked, her back straightening.

  “You weren’t at the campsite that night, were you?” Sam pressed.

  Summer held Sam’s gaze for a few defiant seconds, then deflated a bit. “Okay, fine. I wasn’t at the campsite all night. Camping sucks. So whenever we go on these little junkets, I rent a nice hotel room and I sneak to the hotel after everyone is asleep. Nice showers, comfy bed and a continental breakfast. You gonna arrest me for that?”

  “No but we will arrest you for murder.”

  “You can’t prove that.”

  “Not yet, but right now we’re getting a search warrant to search the hotel for the laptop.”

  “What laptop?”

  “The one Ray was writing his book on.”

  “Why would I have that?” Summer seemed genuinely perplexed.

  “Because you didn’t want anyone to see his notes revealing who you really are.”

  Summer relaxed, a smile quirking her lips. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong. Ray didn’t know who I really am. I met him long after I changed my name.”

  Sam leaned forward into her face. “Maybe he found out just like we did.”

  “It’s not that easy to find out. You guys probably discovered that yourself, right? With my family’s money I can hide a lot of things. I bet it took quite a bit of digging to figure out who I really am.”

  It was true. It had taken Reese quite a while to come up with Summer’s real name. And if Sam had to guess, he figured Reese had probably pulled in a few favors and maybe had done some things not quite by the book. Things that normal civilians like Ray wouldn’t have access to.

  “You can search my room if you don’t believe me.” Summer pulled a key card from her purple suede fringed purse and handed it to them. “I’ve got nothing to hide. Anyway, I was in my hotel room that whole night. Don’t they have computer programs that will tell you when the key card was used and when the doors were opened?”

  Sam glanced at Jo. They did have those. “Call Kevin and see if he’s still at the hotel. Tell him to act like a warrant is on the way.” Sam shrugged his shoulder at Jo. A warrant really wasn’t on the way, but sometimes you could get people to pass along information by pretending it was.

  Jo moved off to the side, her phone to her ear.

  “So, are you gonna arrest me or let me go?” Summer asked.

  “Depends,” Sam said.

  “On what?”

  “On what the hotel says.”

  Jo snapped her phone shut. “She might be telling the truth. The card key access says she went in her room at 1 a.m. and there was no other entry.”

  Sam narrowed his gaze at Summer, who looked a little too smug. He didn’t want to let her go. She was his best suspect, but he had nothing to hold her on. Finally he stepped back and gestured toward the parking lot. “You can go.”

  Sam and Jo watched her rainbow skirt swirl around her ankles as she rushed away.

  “You think she could’ve done it?”

  “Doesn’t sound like it. Not if she was in her room,” Jo said.

  Sam shook his head. “Is there a way she could’ve gotten out of that room without using the door? A window? Maybe she had someone else use the key card and go into her room while she was out murdering Ray. Call Kevin back and see if there’s surveillance footage of the parking lot. If there is, have him get those tapes to find out what Summer really did that night.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Jo’s gut told her that Summer might actually be telling the truth. She didn’t exhibit any of the telltale signs of a liar. Fidgeting. Looking to the left. Nervousness. Summer hadn’t exhibited any of them, and she’d readily volunteered her room key.

  Jo’s mind cranked along, running through the other suspects and trying to place one as the most likely to kill as she trudged back to the Tahoe.

  “Now what?” Jo asked, looking at Sam over the top of her sunglasses.

  “We see if we can stir things up.” Sam let Lucy in the back of the Tahoe, and he and Jo got in the front. He started the engine and pulled out, traveling back down the dirt road.

  Jo glanced out the back window at the dust kicked up by their tires. They’d already talked to Dennis, and now it appeared Summer had an alibi. Could Peter or Sally be the killer? Or maybe it was someone not part of Ray’s group. There were plenty of environmentalists in the area, and Ray had been doing this for a long time. He probably had dirt on several of them. Sam was right, though, a little stirring up might shake the killer loose.

  “How you gonna stir things up?” Jo asked.

  “I think we should go to the camp and give them something to think about. The killer might do something rash if he thinks we can get photos off that camera,” Sam said.

  “Great. Can we stop at Brewed Awakening on the way? I need a coffee.”

  Sam smiled, and Jo felt her tension ease. He had an easy way about him that raised her confidence in their odds of catching the killer.

  He pulled into the drive-through and ordered a coffee and doughnut for Jo, a coffee for himself and a doughnut hole for Lucy.

  He tossed the nugget of fried dough to Lucy. “You only get one, girl. They aren’t good for you, and I don’t want you to gain weight.” Sam glanced down at Jo’s stomach.

  “What?” Jo looked down. Her stomach was still flat. Okay, maybe there was a bit of a pooch, but she was almost forty. “Maybe I should cut down to two doughnuts a day.”

  Sam laughed. “Nah, you still look pretty good.”

  The compliment warmed her, but she still ate only half the doughnut before shoving the other half into the bag and locking the bag in the glove compartment. Lucy had a clever way of finding food in the truck and devouring it when they weren’t looking.

  “I don’t know if they’ll fall for the camera routine,” Jo said, licking a blob of jelly from her thumb. “The killer burned the flash drive in the fire pit. And there’s no internal memory on that camera. The killer probably knows that.”

  “Yeah, but the flash drive could have been the one John was looking for under the cottage. Maybe the killer found it in the cabin that day when he took the laptop.”

  Jo sat back in her seat. That was right. The laptop was still missing, so the killer did find something in the cabin that day. “So the camera memory card could still be out there? It’s probably lost at the dump.”

  “Right, but the killer doesn’t need to know it could be at the dump. We can fake him out. Maybe we could tell him forensics can pull photos from the camera. And if the flash drive from the fire pit was from the laptop, maybe he’ll think the drive is still out there and go looking.”

  Jo’s phone dinged, and she pulled it from her back pocket. “It’s a text from Kevin. He’s looked at the surveillance video from the hotel, and guess what?”

  Sam looked over at her, his eyebrows rising slightly over his aviator sunglasses. “What?”

  “Summer can’t be the killer. The camera recorded her going into her room. She didn’t come out until later that morning. There’s no other way out of the hotel.”

  * * *

  The campsite hadn’t changed much since the last time Sam had been there. The tents still stood in the clearing, and he recognized the same people from his first visit. None of them had left town, which made him wonder if any of them could really be the killer. Why would Ray’s killer stick around?

  The only reason he could think of was because it would be too suspicious if they left. That confirmed his hunch that the murderer was probably one of the people they’d already questioned. But which one?

  Summer wasn’t here, so unless she’d already told them about Ray’s book, Sam would be able to s
urprise them with that bit of information. Jo would be able to judge their reactions to determine if any of them already knew that Ray had been planning on exposing secrets.

  They approached the campsite, and Lucy went into her sniffing routine. Peter and Sally stopped hanging clothes on the line and approached Sam and Jo. Dennis finished putting trash in a barrel and looked up at them with a scowl. The chubby guy Sam remembered was named Ian got up out of a lounge chair and glanced at Sally and Peter uncertainly.

  Sam scanned their faces, trying to detect any undue fear. There wasn’t any. Maybe after he told them about the camera that would change.

  “Here to harass us again?” Dennis asked. “I already told you everything.”

  “Sure, but some new information has come to light,” Sam said.

  “New information?” Peter looked at him dubiously. “Did you find Ray’s killer?”

  “Not exactly. But we do have a good lead.”

  “So why are you here, then?” a man in a tie-dyed T-shirt that Sam recalled from his initial visit as Frank asked.

  “Just thought you people would want to know that we found Ray’s camera. It turns out the killer had tossed it at the dump, which might have been a smart move if he didn’t know that Jackson Pressler makes sculptures out of junk that he finds at the dump.” Sam glanced at Jo. Even with her sunglasses on he knew she was busy scanning their faces, taking note of every twitch and facial expression.

  “So he used the camera in a sculpture? Couldn’t he see it was an expensive camera?” Dennis made a face and looked at the rest of the campers. “See how these rich people are?Though I guess I should be happy the guy is making sculptures instead of filling up the landfill.”

  “Well, it was kind of mangled in the dump, so Jackson didn’t see it had any value,” Jo said.

  “What’s so important about finding the camera anyway?” Sally asked, her arms indignantly crossed over her chest.

  “We think Ray took a photo of his killer. We know he had his camera at the owl zone that night. The camera wasn’t on him when we found his body, so the killer must have taken it.”

  “So why not just look on the camera?” Sally asked.

  “We didn’t find the memory card. Accessing the hidden internal memory on that camera isn’t easy. We need forensics, and that’s going to take a while,” Sam lied.

  “You’re here because you think it was one of us, don’t you?” Peter asked. “Because we said someone left here that night. You’re trying to stir the pot in the hope the killer will do something stupid.”

  Apparently Peter wasn’t as stupid as Sam thought. “Well, he knew you all best, right?”

  Frank scowled. “He knew lots of people. Some of us aren’t even good friends. We’re just camping out here to save money on the campground fee. What does it matter if he knew us best, anyway? I thought his death had something to do with the owls.”

  “Not directly,” Sam said. “We think he was killed because he was writing a book.”

  “A book?” Sally asked. “Why would someone kill him over that?”

  “Not just any book. The kind that tells secrets. And we think Ray had a whopper of a secret about the killer,” Jo said.

  “What about that hooded guy he kept meeting?” Sally asked. “He seemed shady. I bet he has lots of secrets.”

  “That was the writer he was working with,” Sam said.

  “Well, if you know the guy who was helping him write it, you must know all the folks that Ray had the goods on.” Dennis looked at him skeptically. “Why don’t you just ask any of those people?”

  “Yeah, if you know who it was, why are you bugging us? Why not pull him in for questioning?” Ian argued.

  “That’s the thing. They hadn’t gotten that far in the book yet,” Sam said. “I was hoping one of you might know who Ray might have had information on. It could be something that happened recently or maybe something that goes way back into the past. But whatever it is, it must be something pretty bad.”

  Everyone glanced around at each other and shook their heads. “Not me,” Sally said before glancing at Peter and looking down.

  Sam looked at Jo, who shrugged. Nothing more to be gained here. They’d planted the seed and would have to wait to see if it took root.

  “Okay.” Sam turned to leave, then said over his shoulder: “If any of you think of anything that Ray might have known that was worth killing him for, please let me know.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kevin and Reese were in the squad room looking over Kevin’s reports when Sam, Jo and Lucy returned.

  Sam headed for the coffee machine. He needed a jolt of caffeine to power the thought process, and the one he’d gotten from Brewed Awakening hadn’t been enough. He tossed the Styrofoam cup in the trash, the action making him think about Dennis and his trash obsession. Something about that guy bugged him.

  He put his dark-blue WRPD mug under the spout, grabbed an orange K-cup of Gorilla Organic, popped it into the receptacle and pressed the brew button. The smell of coffee wafted up.

  Jo tossed her bagged doughnut half on her desk. Sam picked up her smiley mug, caught her eye and held up the mug. She nodded, and he picked out the dark roast she liked and waited for his to be finished before brewing a cup for her.

  “I got the paperwork for the new guy prepared, Sam.” Reese walked past him toward her desk in the lobby. “You want to look it over?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “New guy?” Kevin frowned.

  Sam turned around, two mugs in hand. “Yeah, I decided to make an offer to one of the people we interviewed. Wyatt Davis. He seems the most qualified candidate.” Sam shrugged and put Jo’s mug on her desk in front of her. She didn’t look too excited about hiring Wyatt. Neither one of them was really that keen on filling Tyler’s spot, but what could he do? They needed the help.

  “Oh. That’s great. We need help,” Kevin said. Judging by the look on his face, he was about as enthused as Jo.

  Reese came back with the paperwork and handed it to Sam, who passed it to Kevin. Might as well let Kevin see who they were hiring. He needed to trust Kevin more, make him more a member of the team.

  Kevin glanced at the paper before handing it back to Sam. “If he’s good enough for you, he’s good enough for me.”

  “So what did you guys find out from Summer?” Reese perched on the corner of Jo’s desk and dug into the doughnut bag, frowning at the contents. She rolled it back up and put it back on the desk. The sound of the crunching bag attracted Lucy, who squatted in front of Reese, thumping her tail excitedly.

  “Sorry, girl, nothing in there but leftovers.”

  As if understanding, Lucy’s shoulders sagged, and she trotted back to her dog bed in the corner.

  “We’ve ruled out Summer,” Sam said.

  “The video surveillance at the hotel proves that she couldn’t have left. It’s indisputable. I saw the video and double-checked to make sure there was no other way she could have snuck out. And her car never moved. She was in her room at time of the murder,” Kevin said.

  “Too bad. I would have bet on her, with her name change and family connection,” Reese said.

  “So then we went out to the camp and planted the seed about the camera. I’m not sure that was very effective, though. None of them seemed startled or upset when I told them we thought Ray took a photo of his killer.” Sam looked to Jo for confirmation.

  “Most of them were a bit nervous, but I guess that’s understandable given the circumstances. Sally did look away when we asked if they knew of anyone who had a beef with Ray.” Jo leaned back in her chair, tapping the eraser end of her pencil softly on her desktop. “And now that I think about it, she did seem kind of sketchy about him when I talked to her in the ladies’ room at Holy Spirits.”

  “But why would that make them nervous? There’s no way to pull photos from that camera.” Reese looked at Sam. “It has no internal memory.”

  “I know that, but they don’t need to know,�
�� Sam said.

  “Ahh, I see.” Reese smiled.

  Sam walked to the corkboard to look at the photos and notes posted there.

  “Why are you so sure it’s someone from that camp?” Kevin asked.

  “We found the melted flash drive in the campfire there.” Sam pointed at the photo of the melted drive.

  “How do you know that flash drive had something incriminating on it?” Reese asked.

  “Why else would someone burn it?” Sam asked. He supposed it could have fallen in the fire, but that seemed unlikely.

  “So you’re guessing?” Reese asked.

  “Hypothesizing,” Sam corrected. This whole case was based on guesswork, but then again most of them were until you got solid proof. You had to follow every lead until something concrete developed. But was he following every lead?

  Sam’s gaze narrowed on the photo of Ray Ingalls’ body at the murder scene with the egg crusted on his face. Why was the egg there? The environmentalists expressed their anger by throwing eggs. They’d egged various places around town, not to mention Mayor Dupont and Thorne’s car. At first he’d thought Thorne had killed Ray because he saw something he shouldn’t have, and then used the egg to make them think it was one of the environmentalists. But maybe they’d been thinking about it the wrong way.

  Sam snapped his fingers and turned around. “Maybe we’ve been looking at the wrong angle. What if the killer put the egg on Ray’s face to frame Thorne?”

  “Why would they want to do that?” Jo asked.

  “Could be to throw off suspicion, or to get us off track. It’s no secret the owl zone could mess up Thorne’s construction plans, and I did suspect him at first. Seems it would be just his style to give them a dose of their own egg-throwing medicine. And maybe if someone hated Thorne enough — and who doesn’t? — they might want to kill two birds with one stone,” Sam said.

  “Get rid of Ray so he couldn’t tell their secret and frame Thorne for the murder,” Jo added.

  “Well, Peter has been actively opposed to big companies building resorts, and he was arrested once during a protest. The company building at that time was Mervale International, a Thorne subsidiary.”