Killing Dreams Page 8

  “What’s going on?” Wyatt appeared behind Jo. She handed him the doughnut bag.

  “They’re still out of jelly.” Her voice was thick with disappointment.

  Wyatt raised a brow at Sam, then looked into the bag and pulled out a chocolate glazed before passing the bag to Sam.

  “So any word on the land?” Wyatt asked with his mouth full.

  “Reese is on it.”

  “What I don’t get is why he moved the bodies? Why put them on Frank’s land? You think the killer had a grudge?” Wyatt asked.

  “Actually, it’s not Frank’s land. That area where the bodies were found is on conservation property,” Jo said.

  “Ahh … That makes sense.” Wyatt took another bite. Lucy focused her concentration on Wyatt, waiting for a crumb to fall. Judging by the way he was chowing down, crumbs were likely. “Conservation land would never be built on.”

  “A perfect place to stash bodies you didn’t want dug up,” Sam said.

  Jo twisted her mouth. “But why move them in the first place? That land by the cabin is remote and swampy. I doubt anyone would build there.”

  “You never know. Some of the places Thorne has built on have been suspect. We know he’s paying people off to get what he wants.” Sam’s phone dinged with a text. “That’s Bev, wondering if we’ve got anything new on the owners of that property.”

  “Got it!” Reese called in from the reception area. They hurried to the squad room as Reese came around the corner with a paper in her hand. She handed it to Sam. “Traced that trust to a corporation—Mervale International.”

  Sam’s brows shot up. “Mervale? That’s Thorne’s wife’s family company.”

  Jo smiled. “The plot thickens.”

  “That’s a great lead,” Sam said. “Marnie said she was good friends with Thorne’s wife. Maybe I can get some information from her.”

  Reese made a face. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in what Marnie Wilson says.” Sam frowned, wondering why, and Reese added, “Just saying she might not be all she seems.”

  Sam trusted Reese’s judgement, yet he didn’t want to write Marnie off until she’d actually done something to make them not trust her. “She still might be better than Jamison.”

  “Sometimes the devil you know is better than the one you don’t know,” Wyatt said.

  “Speaking of the devil,” Jo nodded toward the window. Henley Jamison walked down the sidewalk in his charcoal designer suit, red tie flapping over his shoulder. He was headed in their direction, and he looked like a man on a mission. “Let’s make sure he doesn’t stay long.” Sam glanced over at the filing cabinet. “Where’s Major? Maybe he’ll hiss at Jamison enough to make him leave.”

  Mew! The cat looked at them suspiciously from where he’d been lurking near his now-empty food bowl.

  “Hey, kitty. Want a treat?” Reese crinkled the cat treat bag, and Major showed a little interest. She made a big show of putting treats on the top of the filing cabinet. Major hopped up, casting them a malevolent glance, before sniffing the treats as if he expected them to be laced with poison.

  The door flew open, and Jamison’s voice bellowed over the post office boxes. “Where is everyone? There’s a big investigation going on, you know!”

  “In here investigating,” Sam shouted back.

  Jamison came around the corner scowling. His eyes flicked to the photos on the cork board, then around the room at all of them. Apparently satisfied that they were indeed investigating, his scowl lightened.

  “Can we help you?” Jo asked.

  “I’m on my way to a news conference about those bodies you found. I don’t have much time for chit-chat. Just stopped in to see if there was anything new I could reveal to the media. The public likes to think we are making progress.”

  Sam was always cautious about what to reveal to the media. It was never a good idea to reveal your findings and give the killer opportunities to cover his tracks. “There’s nothing definitive. We’re tracking down some leads, but don’t have any answers.”

  “Huh. Well, this case is a big deal. The feds want in and are already out at that cabin. Have you proven the two cases are connected?”

  “Not yet.”

  “But you think they are?”

  “Yep.”

  “Based on a leaf?” Jamison looked skeptical.

  “A rare leaf found in only a few areas in New England. The cabin site just happens to be one of those areas.”

  Jamison considered that and then nodded. “Sheriff’s office says the bodies could be runaways that got mixed up in drugs. I suppose that would be another thread that connects them.”

  Jamison had been shifting position as he talked, and now he stood a few inches from the filing cabinet with his back to it. He was surprised at how adeptly Jamison connected the pieces that tied the cases together. Maybe he wasn’t as dumb as he looked.

  Hiss!

  Major’s paw shot out, his claw raking Jamison’s shoulder and snagging a thread in the fabric, leaving a pull in his expensive suit.

  “What the—!” Jamison spun around, and for a second Sam feared what he might do to the cat. But Jamison was full of surprises today. He stopped, his face softened, and he cautiously held out his hand for Major to sniff.

  Major craned his neck forward, sniffed and then looked up at Jamison.

  Mew.

  Surprisingly, Jamison scratched the top of Major’s head. Even more surprising, Major let him. Sam thought he might have even heard a purr.

  “Nice cat.” Jamison gave Major’s head one last pat, picked at the pull Major had made in the shoulder of his suitcoat, and then turned back to Sam. “I gotta run. Keep me apprised of any new developments.”

  He turned on his heel and left them all staring after him.

  “Nice kitty?” Jo’s tone was incredulous.

  “Who knew Jamison was a cat lover?” Wyatt asked.

  “Or that Major was a mayor lover,” Reese quipped.

  “Maybe we should send Major over to his office as a gift. He seems to hate us,” Sam said.

  “No way!” Reese put her hands on her hips and addressed the cat. “Nice going, traitor. Maybe you should appreciate your cushy digs here or you might end up bunking with Jamison. I bet he won’t feed you the expensive food with the gravy you like.”

  Major tucked his front paws underneath him and stared at Reese.

  “Maybe Jamison isn’t as bad as we thought, if he’s an animal lover,” Jo said.

  “Maybe, but I know one thing: He’s going to be a pain about this case until it’s solved. And because that land has a direct connection to Thorne, I guess our next move is to pay a visit to the corporate offices of Mervale International.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The corporate offices of Mervale International were in the next town. They were housed in a long, concrete one-story building about a quarter mile down an old logging road that had been paved. The parking lot was freshly paved with sharp white lines and pockets of landscaping. Shiny metal storage buildings in the back were hidden by tall Lombardy poplars. Next to the building, perfectly-trimmed shrubs grew from a bed of bark mulch. Apparently Mervale International was doing very well.

  The plate glass doors opened to a large reception area with a marble tile floor, mahogany walls, and a semicircular reception desk with a young blonde sitting behind it. She smiled as they approached, but concern flickered in her eyes when she noticed the badge on Sam’s hip.

  “Can I help you?” she asked tentatively.

  “We’d like to speak to Robert Summers, please.” In her usual efficient manner, Reese had provided Sam with information on Mervale International and its officers and Board of Directors. Thorne wasn’t involved with the company, but it looked as though the CEO was his brother-in-law Robert Summers.

  She pressed her lips together and looked down at something on her desk. ”I’m sorry, but Mr. Summers isn’t in.”

  Was she putting him off? He hoped they wouldn’t get
the runaround.

  “We can wait. When will he be back?”

  The girl glanced around the lobby as if she didn’t know what to say. Sam was sure they didn’t want the police lounging around in their upscale lobby. Finally, she said, “I’m afraid you may have a long wait. He’s on an extended leave.”

  Interesting. Why the secrecy? Probably just the usual corporate paranoia. Whatever the reason for his extended absence, Sam doubted it had anything to do with his case.

  “Then could we speak to whoever is in charge?” Sam asked.

  “That would be Beryl Thorne.”

  Sam and Jo exchanged a glance. Beryl Thorne was second-in-command of her family’s company? This provided an even greater connection between the cabin and Thorne himself.

  “Then we’d like to see her,” Sam said.

  The receptionist picked the phone receiver off her desk, held it to her ear, and glanced at Sam. “And what should I tell her this pertains to.”

  “Police business.”

  The girl’s gaze drifted to Jo, who nodded in agreement. She dialed a number and announced their presence. Sam and Jo wandered over to the large plate glass windows looking out at the parking lot. It was filled with cars. It took only a few minutes before the clicking of heels on marble announced Beryl Thorne’s arrival.

  She was a petite woman in her late forties. She looked young for her age, which surprised Sam, who thought being married to Thorne would be stressful enough to make his wife look like a crone. But her mink-brown hair was free of gray, and her easy smile appeared to be genuine. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Beryl Thorne. How can I help you?”

  “Chief Sam Mason.” Sam gestured toward Jo. “This is Sgt. Jody Harris.”

  They shook hands. Beryl had the strong, firm handshake of someone who had been wielding business deals for a long time.

  “Perhaps we should go to your office.” Sam didn’t think she would want them talking about meth labs and dead bodies in the corporate lobby.

  Concern flashed in her doe-brown eyes, but she simply nodded and turned. “This way, then.”

  Beryl’s office was in the back corner of the building with a view of the forest. It was nicely decorated, all cherry wood and trendy blue-gray walls. She didn’t display many personal photographs or mementos. Just a series of framed photos of owls arranged on one wall. Sam remembered Marnie Wilson telling him Beryl favored environmental causes and had taken an interest in the rare bearded owls.

  Beryl gestured to two black leather chairs that sat across from her desk. “Have a seat.”

  She settled into the chair behind her desk. “Now what is this about? I can assure you all of our permits are in order.”

  “This isn’t about permits. It’s about a piece of land that was traced to your company.”

  Beryl frowned. “Traced to my company? What exactly does that mean? It sounds rather ominous.”

  “It’s a property of interest in Colebrook. The deed shows it is in a trust, and investigators have discovered that the trustee is Mervale International.”

  Beryl shrugged. “We own lots of land. We are a real estate development company. That hardly warrants a visit from the police.”

  “And having some of that land in trusts is not unusual?”

  “Not at all. We have holdings for current development as well as future development. We split things up into various trusts almost like subsidiaries of the company.” She slid her keyboard in front of her. “And what parcel of land is this?”

  “It’s out in Colebrook, was owned by the Sundown Realty Trust.”

  Beryl focused on the computer monitor on the corner of her desk, her fingernails clacking on the keys. She hit the return button, then sat back. “Ahh. Yes, I seem to recall that was a more recent acquisition.”

  Sam leaned forward in his chair. A recent acquisition? It was impossible to tell how long the meth lab had been abandoned, but John Dudley had been fairly confident those bodies had been in the ground for at least five years. If Mervale had recently acquired the land, then maybe he couldn’t link it to Thorne after all. “How recent?”

  Beryl chewed her bottom lip. “I think probably within the last decade. I’m actually really not up to speed here. I’ve been in the background for years, but my brother’s illness has forced me to take the helm.” She glanced at the computer screen again, then narrowed her eyes at Sam. “Colebrook? Isn’t that a little out of your jurisdiction, Chief Mason? I thought you were chief in White Rock. My husband has spoken of you. Just what is your interest in this land?”

  “It’s pertaining to a case in my jurisdiction.” Thorne couldn’t have said anything good about Sam to Beryl. Would she kick him out?

  Beryl leaned back in her chair. “Then maybe I should get my attorney involved. If this has something to do with police business I might not want to say any more.”

  Sam wondered how many people misjudged Beryl Thorne by her petite stature and soft brown eyes. There was a steely glint inside those eyes. She was a hardened businesswoman. And she wasn’t naïve. She knew she had no legal responsibility to talk to him.

  Sam didn’t want to have to get a search warrant. That would take time, and if Jamison was as protective of Thorne and his family as DuPont had been, he might not even get one. He needed to make Beryl think they were on the same side. The side of the victim. He had to appeal to her humanity. Even though she was married to Thorne, he hoped she still had one.

  “Look. I’m not supposed to give up specifics, but your company isn’t in any trouble. It’s clear that land has not been used. We’d just like to get some specifics on its ownership. It could help bring closure to quite a few families that are missing loved ones.”

  Something flashed in Beryl’s eyes. Compassion? Sam hoped so. After a few seconds she turned back to her computer. “This has something to do with the bodies found out by Frank Buckner’s, doesn’t it?”

  Sam nodded.

  “But this property is in Colebrook. What’s the link?”

  “There was a cabin on the property and we found evidence that might link to it what we found near Frank’s,” said Jo, using her soft woman-to-woman tone. Sam was glad he brought her along. She always clicked better with the women they questioned. Plus, Jo was an expert in human psychology. She was good at judging when people were lying. He knew she’d be studying Beryl to see if she knew more about the cabin or her husband than she let on.

  “A cabin?” Beryl started typing again. “We don’t usually buy structures, just land.”

  “This cabin was well hidden in the woods.”

  “There’s no mention of any structure in the computer files. Typically we buy large parcels of land only. But there have been a few cases where someone built a cabin that wasn’t officially on the records. You know those old-timers didn’t want to pay the increase in property taxes.”

  “What is the land for if not the cabin?” Jo asked.

  Beryl tapped the computer screen with a neatly trimmed but unpolished nail. Despite her perfectly tailored blue suit and high heels, Beryl Thorne was no girly-girl. “This land is for future development.”

  “Development? Why would you want to develop something there? It’s in the middle of nowhere.”

  Beryl leaned back in her chair again. “It’s in the middle of nowhere now, but we’re securing it for the future. As you know, population pushes out and rural areas become more populated. We always keep an eye out for good deals.” She squinted at the screen. “This lot was purchased at a very good price, though there’s no specifics as to why. Sometimes people inherit land they have no interest in and let it go cheaply.”

  “So you scoop it up, then just hold onto it and build later,” Jo persisted.

  Beryl nodded. “We always have an eye out for land that we think will become prime properties. We buy them and hold them for future generations. For my nieces and nephews. It is a family business, after all.”

  “Is that similar to what your husband’s company does?” Sam ask
ed.

  Beryl’s eyes slid to Sam. “No. He builds commercial development in the present. He doesn’t have an eye toward the future.”

  “Do you work for that company too? I mean, the two businesses are similar, so is it an offshoot of Mervale?” Sam asked.

  Beryl laughed and shook her head. “I don’t get involved in his business. I found out long ago that business and pleasure don’t mix. His business is totally separate from Mervale.” She turned back to the computer and continued typing. “Unfortunately, this file is incomplete. We recently changed over our computer system and not everything has been entered. I can get my assistant on it and let you know more about when the land was purchased.”

  “We’d really appreciate it.” Sam stood, and Jo followed his lead. “Thanks for talking to us.”

  As they turned toward the door, Beryl said. “No problem. My pleasure.” It might have been Sam’s imagination, but her tone seemed to indicate that she might have gotten more out of the conversation than they had.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jo watched Mervale International grow smaller in the side mirror as they drove away. “You think she’s gonna be cooperative?”

  “Seems that way. At least until she finds out her husband is our main suspect,” Sam said.

  Jo snorted and turned to look at Lucy, who was lying in the back. They’d left her in the car with the windows cracked, and she looked bored. “I can’t picture her being married to Thorne. She seemed kind of nice and smart.”

  “Well, they do say love is blind.” Sam’s voice carried a tinge of irony.

  Jo glanced sideways at Sam. He’d been married twice. Had he gone into those marriages blind? He didn’t seem like the type of guy to be taken in easily by women, but then again he had gone to lunch with Marnie Wilson. Did Marnie have ulterior motives aside from wanting his support as chief of police?

  “So you don’t think she was lying to us or trying to cover for her husband?” Sam asked.

  Jo’s area of expertise was reading people, and she’d been looking for the signs. “I don’t think so. Seemed like she was being straight with us.”