Killing Dreams: A Sam Mason Mystery Book 5 Read online

  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.”

  The giant doughnut sign for Brewed Awakening snagged her attention. “Hey, let’s hit up Brewed Awakening. I need a stronger coffee. And a doughnut.”

  Sam pulled up to the drive-through, and a bright-eyed teen poked her head out. “The usual, Chief Mason?”

  “Please. And a plain doughnut, a maple glazed and a few jellies.”

  Jo pushed her blue-mirrored police-issue Oakleys on top of her head and leaned forward to look across Sam at the girl in the window. “Make that a half-dozen jellies.”

  The girl glanced behind her and frowned. “We’re out of jelly. How about lemon or Boston cream?”

  Jo let out an exasperated sigh and sat back in the seat. “Fine. Lemon then.”

  The girl handed over the coffees and the white bag full of doughnuts, and Sam pulled away. Jo was quiet as she opened the lid and sipped her coffee, welcoming the bitter taste.

  “Is something wrong besides the lack of jelly doughnuts?” Sam asked.

  Jo glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He had his eyes on the road, and she could see the deep creases of worry at the corners of his eyes. His lightly-stubbled jaw was tight with the tension of the case.

  Sam felt deeply about seeking justice, especially for families who had lost loved ones. She knew how hard he was working on this case. She didn’t want to add to his burden. It wouldn’t be fair to dump on him about her sister right now just so she could feel better. She looked back out her window. “No. Just this case.”

  Lucy poked her head between the seats and Jo grabbed the bag, twisting in her seat to look at the German shepherd. “Just one little crumb. These aren’t good for you.”

  Lucy panted happily and scarfed up the minuscule fragment.

  The silence in the car grew heavy. Jo needed to stop tormenting herself about whether or not she should tell Sam about her sister. She was clearly giving off vibes that something was amiss. She would tell him, just not now.

  The police radio chirped, and Reese’s voice boomed out, surrounded by static. “Got a call out on Highland Road. Apparently Bullwinkle knocked down Mrs. Peterson’s fence again. Over.”

  More static and then Wyatt’s voice. “I’ll take it. I’m in the area.”

  Bullwinkle was what the townspeople called any moose that happened to be in the area. Jo wasn’t sure, but she thought maybe they believed there was only one moose in town. There were many moose in the area, so Jo doubted that it was the same one each time one of the animals was spotted wandering through the yards and streets.

  Sam looked down at the police radio. “I guess maybe this thing really will work better than using our phones.”

  “If we remember to turn it on.”

  Sam laughed. “Good point.”

  He smiled at her, and Jo felt the tension between them dissipate. They’d always had an easy working relationship and trust that helped them work together. Jo was relieved that she hadn’t ruined it. Despite the heavy burden of the case that lay in front of them, things were looking up.

  As they neared the police station, Jo saw a familiar car that dashed her good mood.

  “Crap. It’s Holden Joyce.” Sam voiced her thoughts.

  As he parked behind Holden’s Toyota 4Runner, Jo grabbed the bag and slid out of the passenger door. “Look on the bright side. Maybe he has good news.”

  Holden Joyce was waiting for them in the squad room, but he didn’t have good news.

  “I hope you aren’t holding anything back,” he said after Sam told him about the visit to Mervale.

  “Look, I want this case closed as badly as you do. Especially if it involves Lucas Thorne,” Sam said.

  Holden’s eyes narrowed. “Lucas Thorne? You really have a bug up your ass about him, don’t you? What makes you think this case has anything to do with him?”

  “The cabin is owned by his wife’s family company.”

  “That’s a stretch, don’t you think?”

  Sam’s jaw tightened. “We suspect he’s a drug dealer. We found remnants of a meth lab on the property. And that property is tied to a relative. Doesn’t sound like a stretch to me.”

  Holden’s expression turned dubious. “That meth lab was no longer in operation. And it’s more than an hour from here. If Thorne wanted to add meth to his distribution channel he might pick someplace closer to set up shop. I just hope your zest to nail Lucas Thorne for something won’t cloud your judgment.”

  Jo could practically feel the tension rising between the two men. Though she shared Sam’s dislike of Holden Joyce, they’d solve the case much easier with cooperation. She held up the bag between them. “Doughnut?”

  Holden turned to her. He was still scowling, but in his eyes she saw something softer. “Thanks.”

  He reached for the bag, and then she saw him do something she’d never seen him do before. He actually broke into a real smile. For some reason it put her on edge. He seemed almost as if he wanted to make friends.

  Or did he? Maybe it was all an act because he knew that he could get more information from them if he befriended them. But the way he’d acted when Sam mentioned Thorne made her wonder if he was going to give him a hard time about chasing down leads to prove Thorne was involved. Was that the reason he kept insinuating himself in their cases? Was it possible Holden Joyce was on Thorne’s payroll?

  Holden talked around a mouthful of doughnut. “John Dudley managed to match the dental records of one of the victims. She was identified as Arlene Cross, a runaway from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. But her parents hadn’t heard anything from her in more than ten years. She was gone a lot longer than her body was in that grave. We were hoping they might be able to tell us what kind of clothing she had in case we find anything that matched it in the debris we found in the cabin.”

  “They couldn’t?” Jo asked.

  “Nope. She’d been gone for so many years they had no idea about her wardrobe.”

  “Will you be able to get any DNA from the clothing in the cabin?” Sam asked. “Maybe we’ll be able to match that to DNA of the skeletal remains.”

  “The lab’s working on that. So far it’s not promising,” Holden said. “I wouldn’t hold out hope on pinning anything on Thorne, and I don’t want to focus on him so much that we disregard other suspects. Whoever was running the meth lab is likely a different person than whoever killed those girls.”

  “I agree,” Sam said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let Thorne off the hook. He could very well be involved, especially with that meth lab.”

  “Seems to me if he really was the drug dealer here you guys would’ve nailed him by now.”

  “Our late mayor blocked most of the search warrants we tried to get to gather evidence. And we suspect there might’ve been a mole somewhere in the system that got wind of our plans to catch him in the act and alerted Thorne.”

  Holden’s eyes flicked to a desk in the corner. “You mean Richardson?”

  “No. Not Richardson,” Sam said. “He was a good cop. We think it might’ve been someone else who perhaps had access to the police department.”

  “Like maybe one of the other federal workers,” Jo said. “Not one of us.”

  “You mean Dupont’s killer?” Holden asked.

  “Maybe. We’ll never know if it was.” Jo glanced at the filing cabinet where Major usually presided. The cat wasn’t there, but Jo thought if only the cat could talk he’d be able to tell them if his former owner had been a mole. But how would he have known about their plans? Sure, he had occasion to be at the station a lot, but it wasn’t as though they talked about covert operations in the lobby for everyone to hear.

  Holden chewed his doughnut for a few seconds. “A drug dealer is one thing, a serial killer quite another. Their modus operandi usually isn’t the same.” He glanced at Jo. “I just hope you keep that in mind. We don’t want those victi
ms to have to wait any longer for justice.”

  “Agreed.” Sam said. “We have the same goal. To catch whoever did that to those girls and find out who was running the meth lab. How about we try to work together better on this one?” Sam held out his hand.

  Jo nibbled the corner of her doughnut. The air was thick with tension as Holden Joyce hesitated, staring at Sam’s outstretched hand for a few beats before shoving the rest of his pastry in his mouth and clasping Sam’s hand. “Agreed.”

  Holden picked another doughnut from the bag before turning to leave. “You let me know if anything new comes up. I’ll do the same.” Then he looked directly at Jo and said, “It’ll be nice working with you.”

  A funny feeling gnawed at Jo’s gut as she watched him leave. What was up with that weird look? Had Sam noticed the strange undertone? It was almost as if he was trying to give her some subliminal message. But what, exactly? The last case they’d worked with him he’d wanted to make sure Jo was disciplined for a minor slip-up. So why was he acting so friendly now?

  “That was weird,” Sam said after they heard the door shut.

  “I’ll say.”

  “What do you think he’s up to?”

  “No idea. We’ll just have to be cautious around him. If he’s gonna share information with us, I guess it can’t hurt.”

  “I guess you’re right. If he actually shares everything.” Sam walked over to the cork board where they’d tacked up printouts of the images Wyatt had taken at the shallow graves. He leaned his butt against the edge of Jo’s desk and set his coffee cup down. “So I guess it’s up to us to prove that Thorne is the perpetrator behind at least one of these crimes.”

  “Do you really think he had anything to do with these girls?” Jo scanned the images, her eyes coming to rest on one of the bog birch leaves lying on the blue tarp with the odd pattern of holes. Could the leaf really connect the graves to the cabin? Even if it did, they needed much more.

  “I have no idea, but I don’t think the other police agencies are going to put in quite as much effort in looking into Thorne as we are,” Sam said.

  “We need to find something to tie him to that meth lab. What about the duct tape and hoses left in the kitchen? Is that something he would use at his construction site?” Jo eyed the bottom row of photographs.

  ”Maybe. But they’re also common construction materials. The meth lab is older. Anything purchased for his construction site would have been purchased recently, so there might not be any way to prove a connection.”

  “What about something in his past? If he killed those girls, he’s probably exhibited some odd behavior previously. Serial killers usually ramp up.” Jo knew a lot about that. In her research of serial killers she discovered all kinds of things about them, but she didn’t want to go into too many details or Sam might question why she knew so much.

  “Good thinking.” Sam pulled out his phone and thumbed in a text. “I’ll get Mick on that. We don’t want to ruffle any feathers with Holden Joyce or the state police or any of the others if they think we’re paying too much attention to Thorne. Problem is we might not be able to tie him to the meth lab. He usually has minions do his dirty work. But if he is the killer I’m sure he would’ve done that work himself.”

  “Maybe we should talk to Jesse. He might know something about the meth lab.” Jesse Cowley was a small-time drug dealer in town Sam had been grooming as an informant. He’d made a point to catch Jesse with a little bit of pot now and then and let him go so that Jesse owed him. Now might be a good time to collect.

  “Can’t hurt, though he doesn’t seem to know very much about the higher-ups on the chain. I suppose any information would be good. I’ll have Mick meet us at Holy Spirits tonight. We’ll probably run into Jesse there.”

  Woof!

  Lucy raised her head from where she’d been lying in a patch of sunlight and looked toward the lobby.

  “What is it?” Sam asked just as the lobby door opened and they heard Harry Woolston greeting Reese. A few seconds later he came around the corner of the post office boxes wearing blue, green, and pink plaid Bermuda shorts and a pink polo shirt.

  Lucy rushed to him, sniffing the hem of the shorts with suspicion. This wasn’t Harry’s usual type of outfit.

  “What’s with the get-up, Harry?” Sam was amused.

  “Darn wife. Wants me to take up a hobby. Painting. Golfing. Bridge. She says hanging around at the police station is dangerous.” Harry pressed his lips together. “Then again, I guess she might have a point. I did almost get shot last time.”

  “Yeah, your wife might be onto something. Hobbies could be good at your age,” Jo said.

  “Bah! Hobbies are boring.” Harry bent down to pet the top of Lucy’s head. “I need action!”

  Lucy’s tail wagging stopped abruptly, and she jerked her head toward Sam’s office. Major sauntered through the partially open doorway as if he owned the place. He stopped and the two of them glared at each other for a tense second before Major continued to the filing cabinet, leaping up to the top in one fluid motion.

  Achoo! Harry looked at the filing cabinet. “Are you keeping that darn thing? I’m allergic.” He moved as far from the cabinet as he could get, Lucy following at his heels.

  “Yes, we’re keeping him, Harry!” Reese called in from the reception area.

  Harry made a face. “Anyway, I just stopped by to see how you got on with Marnie Wilson.”

  “We got on fine.” Sam sounded noncommittal.

  “Well, I hope so. You know us seniors really like her for mayor, and I’m hoping you can put your support behind her.”

  “She seems like she’s planning some good things,” Sam said. “I highly doubt my support will be a deciding factor in the election.”

  Harry waved his hand dismissively. “Of course it will. You know the people look up to the police chief in this town. Why when I was chief —.”

  Fortunately, Harry’s diatribe about the good old days was interrupted by his phone clanging. He dug it out of his pocket and squinted at the display. “Darn. It’s the wife. I gotta run. See you guys later.”

  Jo bit back a smile as he turned and ran out. For all of Harry’s bluster, Jo knew who really wore the pants in that family. She clearly picked out his outfits.

  Sam’s phone pinged. “Okay, Mick is on the case. He’ll meet us at Holy Spirits tonight.” He glanced up at the clock, then back at Jo. “That gives me just enough time to talk to our number-one suspect, Lucas Thorne.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sam’s thoughts were on Jo as he pulled into Thorne’s construction site. He didn’t think her odd behavior had anything to do with jelly doughnuts. Did it have something to do with his lunch with Marnie? Maybe Sam was reading too much into the way she’d been acting, but he’d worked closely with Jo for several years now, and he thought he knew all her moods. Then again, he’d never been very good at understanding women, at least according to his ex-wives.

  “It’s probably just nothing. I should let it go, right?” Sam asked Lucy as he let her out of the back of the Tahoe.

  Lucy wagged her tail in agreement.

  “Okay, good call.”

  The construction site was busy. Thorne was building a five-story hotel on an old farm site. It had great views of the mountains and the lake, but Sam would’ve rather seen it remain farmland. He couldn’t wait to put Thorne out of business.

  Sam headed across the dirt lot toward the construction trailer amidst the clanging of machinery and shouting of workmen. The exterior of the aluminum trailer was thick with dirt and rust, but Sam knew its shabby appearance didn’t extend past the outer walls. Inside, it was about as opulent as a construction trailer could be.

  Just before he got to the makeshift wooden steps, Lucy veered to the right, trotting toward the building.

  “Lucy!” Sam snapped his fingers.

  The dog hesitated, glanced back at him, and then swung her head back toward the construction site and continued on. />
  Sam shrugged and followed. If Lucy was disobeying a command he was sure she had good reason.

  She stopped at the corner of the building. There was no construction going on at this end, so there was minimal risk of Lucy getting hurt. Sam scanned the piles of building materials just to make sure. Was this why Lucy had led him here? He catalogued it in his mind: rebar, lumber, concrete. No duct tape or rubber hoses as he’d seen in the cabin.

  Lucy was busily sniffing the corner of the building. Sam didn’t see anything there either.

  But something else was odd. The ground next to the building was freshly covered, as if plans to build there had been changed. Wasn’t the lobby supposed to go here? He shaded his eyes and looked toward the other end, where the construction was focused. It looked as if they’d moved the lobby area down there.

  He looked behind him to the land that belonged to Jackson Pressler and was the nesting site of the Great Bearded Owls. Had Thorne moved the lobby to the other side so that the building wouldn’t disturb the owls? Had it been at his wife’s insistance?

  Sam whistled for Lucy. “Okay, I see what you wanted me to see. Come on. We have to talk to Thorne.”

  Lucy tore herself away from her sniffing and trotted back to the trailer at Sam’s side.

  Sam opened the flimsy aluminum screen door and knocked on the hollow plywood door behind it.

  “Come in.” Thorne bellowed from inside.

  Sam opened the door, and a cool wave of spicy aftershave wafted out. Inside, the hum of the air-conditioner in one of the windows masked the sounds of construction. The office was as plush as he remembered. Thick carpeting. Rich dark paneled walnut walls. Shelves lined with trophies. Golf, tennis, softball. Apparently Thorne had lots of leisure time.

  “Shut the door. I’m not air-conditioning White Rock.”

  Thorne sat in a big black leather chair behind an ornate mahogany desk. The sleeves of his light blue button-down shirt were rolled up to reveal forearms that were tanned and muscular for a man of his age. Though in his late forties he still looked youthful. Probably all that golf and tennis.