Crisis Shot Read online

  “I think so too,” she said, “but I need to look at this as a law enforcement officer.”

  “Of course, of course. How can I help?”

  “Have you ever seen any problems between the Macphersons?”

  “No, they are what they seem, what they advertise. And that church—well, it’s the real deal. I’m an atheist and yet they welcome me to the men’s breakfast. I think no one knows the Macphersons better than Klaus and Addie.”

  “Thank you for the information.”

  “Certainly. If I can help, let me know.”

  Tess hung up, glad that went well, and made a note to talk to the pair when she went home. She then called the Jackson County sheriff.

  “I was about to call you,” the sheriff said. “When I saw that BOLO, I prayed it was a mistake. Do you want me to gear up for a full-scale search?”

  “We need to be prepared, but further than that, currently I don’t know where to start. Anna and her car are in NCIC, but no one is certain about where she might have gone. I’m not sure where to stage a search.”

  “Gotcha. I’ll make sure all my guys have this information and I’ll personally contact Josephine, Douglas, and Siskiyou Counties if you like.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff. I appreciate that.”

  “No problem. Anna Macpherson is a gem. I pray to God she’s okay.”

  Tess already knew that Oliver Macpherson was a big name, not only in the Upper Rogue, but in the whole Rogue Valley. But it was hitting home now how big. His church was the third largest in the area. As soon as the local newspaper got wind of his wife being missing, they’d be all over it. That could help, but she needed to be certain Oliver knew about the possibility. She called to let him know.

  “Yes,” he sighed. Tess heard weariness in his voice. “I knew this would be a newsworthy story. Is that a bad thing?”

  “Not for me,” Tess said. “If Anna is news, that puts more eyes out looking for her. But I wanted you to be prepared.”

  “I have a lot of people praying and looking. All I want is Anna home.”

  “Me too. Where are you now, Oliver?”

  “On my way to a parishioner’s home. Her husband died suddenly this morning. She needs me.”

  Tess didn’t know what to say. “But if I need to contact you—”

  “I’ll leave my phone on. I need to do this. It’s more than my job. This is family.”

  Tess hung up and wondered about this man of faith. He had his own personal crisis going on, yet he was seeing to someone else in their time of need. Crazy, dedicated, or guilty? She wasn’t sure of the answer to that question.

  She didn’t believe in God per se—she wouldn’t call herself an atheist, but this all-knowing, all-seeing God didn’t make sense to her. She’d gone to church for years with her dad when she was a kid, but stopped when she was sixteen and he was murdered. The idea of a good God and a murdered father did not mix in Tess’s mind, so she never tried to force it.

  After doing all she could for Oliver Macpherson, Tess went back to pondering Glen’s case. But even after time percolating, she could find no new insight. A knock on her doorframe interrupted her musing. She lifted her gaze and saw a welcome familiar face.

  Steve Logan.

  She’d been thinking about him, wondering if he’d pop up to help with the Elders homicide, and had even considered calling him if he didn’t show. He was the type of guy she was used to. Military-style haircut, squared-away tan uniform, and a steely gaze that had cop written all over it.

  “Chief O’Rourke.” He flashed a bright smile and Tess had to fight the jump in her heart rate.

  “Now there’s a hunk of man,” she could hear Jeannie say. Thinking of the leer that would follow almost made her smile.

  Clearing her throat, Tess said, “Sergeant Logan, after reading your last text, I was afraid you’d not step foot in Rogue’s Hollow ever again.” She flashed her own smile, thinking about the text he’d sent, detailing how Bubba Magee had barfed in the back of his patrol car twice before he could get the man to jail. The mess and cleanup kept him from being able to help with the homicide yesterday. She felt not a little pleasure at seeing him now, in spite of that unfortunate event.

  He stepped into the room and Tess stood.

  “You know, stuff happens. I was able to clean the car out, and after about a hundred dollars’ worth of air freshener, it smells okay. I’m concluding that Rogue’s Hollow is going to be a tough place to stay away from. And now you have a murder. When it rains, it pours. I’d like to help. And I’m cleared to.”

  Tess held her breath for a minute. With blond hair, blue eyes, classically chiseled features, and a build that said he worked out, the man was devastatingly handsome, but so was Paul, her ex-husband. Underneath Paul’s beautiful exterior had lurked a shallow, selfish heart. Tess needed to be on guard. But the crush of loneliness that had stalked her for two months was going to be a difficult bear to combat.

  “I think things are handled so far, Sergeant.”

  “You know, I think I’d rather you call me Steve. I mean, we handled a few scrapes together, and I have a feeling we’re going to be working together a lot. No need to be formal.” He smiled warmly and extended his hand.

  Tess took his hand and relaxed. She liked Logan as a cop and could be a little less formal, but was she opening a door she wasn’t ready to step through?

  “Come, have a seat. You have something for me?”

  “I do.” He held up a folder and stepped past the chair to drop it on her desk. “Coroner’s report.” Logan sat in the offered chair.

  Nonplussed, Tess picked it up and then sat back in her chair. “So soon?” She was used to waiting a week or more in Long Beach.

  “Except for the tox screen. That’ll be a couple of weeks.”

  She opened the folder and pulled out the report. Time of death interested her right off the bat. Coroner estimated that was between 5 and 5:45 a.m., while it was still dark but getting light. He then stated what had been obvious from the scene: death was a homicide, caused by a 9mm bullet to the head. As Tess feared, there was no usable bullet or fragments found. The head shot was too badly deformed, and in the body the fast-moving projectiles had gone through and through. She made a mental note to go back out to the scene and search again for a bullet. But for the slug taken from the dog, it might be the only piece of evidence tying the killer to the murder. She wasn’t holding out hope they’d find prints on the casing.

  “He put up a fight. There were scratches on his face and a defensive wound in his hand; the round went through and through.” Logan held his hand up. “He was trying to stop a bullet. Elders was shot at least four times.”

  Tess considered this, visualizing the scene in her mind. “I wish I had a better picture of what happened that morning. Because he held his hand up, do you think there’s a possibility the bullet was aimed at someone else? Maybe he was trying to shield a friend. Or his dog.” Even as she asked the question, she thought of Tilly. Had she been with Glen?

  He gave a head tilt. “You think someone else was there with Glen?”

  “Let me show you the pictures, see what you think.” Tess turned to her computer and pulled up the crime scene photos. Logan got up and walked around to look over her shoulder. The familiar squeak of leather gear and the light pleasant scent of his aftershave very nearly went to Tess’s head. She worked to concentrate on showing him the scene photos.

  “This is not a local fishing spot. Look at the smashed grass. It just looks like more than two people were there.”

  “Hmm, maybe. But maybe there were two killers?”

  His nearness caused a jolt of attraction to flare. She pushed back a bit.

  “At this point I guess anything is possible. Are you familiar with Tilly Dover?”

  He grunted and rolled his eyes. Straightening up, he moved around to the front of her desk but stayed standing. “Everyone knows Tilly. I went to school with her and her brother, Bart. She was relatively normal
then—I mean, on medication and stuff. She’s bipolar. But she hasn’t always been on the streets. After high school she took some junior college classes, wanted to be a paramedic. If I remember right, she might have even become an EMT-1. She also taught Sunday school in church and was functioning for a while. But then her dad died. That sent her around the bend and she’s been on the streets ever since. I think Bart washed his hands of her.”

  He made a fist with his left hand and tapped it with his right palm, pensive expression on his face. “Yep, she and Glen were close. I see where you’re going. You think she was with him? That’s why you gave us the information about a possible body in the creek.”

  Tess nodded. “I’m guessing if someone did go into the creek right there, their body would have been seen or located by now.”

  “Most likely. The creek calms when it reaches the Rogue. Lots of people swim there and fish; a body making it that far would attract attention. It’s not cold right now or deep enough to keep a body from decomposing and floating to the surface.”

  “I thought so. I also recovered a piece of fabric.” She frowned. “I’d have wagered money someone went into the creek there.”

  “And you think it’s Tilly?”

  “You said yourself that they were close.” Tess told him what Pete had said about the tab Glen started for Tilly.

  “So if she was there, and she hasn’t washed up because she’s alive somewhere, she’d be a witness?” Logan shook his head. “Don’t bet on it. Girl’s brain is scrambled. You’d have better luck with the dog as a witness. Why do you think Glen was there anyway?”

  “I can only guess he was meeting someone for some reason. I’m trying to get phone records.”

  “You find a phone?”

  “No, but I have his number. He’d dropped his ride off for repairs, called someone; then a few days later he’s dead.”

  “Well—” Logan hiked a shoulder—“Glen Elders was a dirtbag. He ran with a rough crowd. He probably owed someone money.” He held his hand up like a gun. “Pow—said person got tired of waiting.”

  Tess thought about the bag of money Elders had handed Anna. That certainly was enough money to kill for. She closed the autopsy file and told Logan about the money.

  His eyes widened. “Fifty grand? No lie?”

  “A notice is due to print in the paper next week. Other than his staff, Pastor Macpherson decided to keep quiet about it until the notice comes out.”

  He didn’t hide his shock. “Well, that’s a lot of motive.”

  Tess agreed. “You dealt with Elders a lot?”

  “It’s a small valley. He normally bounced between Shady Cove and White City. They don’t have their own PDs, so they contract with us—you know that. Elders was a frequent flier. The only thing I’m sure of is that the money wasn’t his.”

  “Money is always a strong motive for murder.”

  “You just have to find the guy short fifty grand.” His smile was brilliant, warm, and Tess bit back a sigh.

  She held up the coroner’s report. “Thanks for dropping this by.”

  “Not a problem.” He checked his watch. “How about I buy you lunch, get to know the new chief better.”

  This time Tess thought carefully. He’d been a great help for two months, and she did like him, wanted to get to know him better, but where she came from, too many cops were players. She doubted it was any different here. But she was hungry. She’d done everything she could do for Anna and Glen to this point. Rule #10 applied: “Good cops never get wet or go hungry.” And it was better to be on Logan’s good side than not.

  “I have an investigation to get back to, but it is lunchtime.” She smiled back, deciding she’d play friendly for the time being. “You have any place in mind?”

  “Sure do. Max’s Grill makes the best bacon burger in the Upper Rogue.” He stood. “Shall we walk or drive?”

  24

  Sonya was in shock, crying one minute, composed the next, when Oliver arrived. As a pastor he’d been present at many deathbeds, presided over many funeral and memorial services, saw a lot of raw grief, and he never got used to it. It was a painful, broken world they lived in. He never pretended to have all the answers and had learned a long time ago that a simple hug coupled with a quiet presence went a long way. He met Sonya on the porch and just held her for a long while, feeling her pain mingle with his own. After she’d calmed a bit, gained some composure, they sat together on the glider rocker on the front porch. Oliver held her hand and waited to see what she needed most from him.

  “Hey, Pastor Mac.” Her oldest son shook his hand. The other two Devaroux children lived out of state. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Of course. Your father was a good man.”

  After a minute Sonya sniffled. “He said he wasn’t feeling good . . . you know, a little under the weather. I thought he was going to take a nap . . .” She squeezed Oliver’s hand. “I wasn’t expecting this—I wasn’t. He was healthy.”

  She leaned into him and sighed. Oliver rubbed her shoulder and prayed for comfort. He thought of Anna. Typically, she never went with him to situations like this, didn’t feel offering immediate comfort was her calling. She would cook for the family, pray for the family, but didn’t reach out until the grief was less raw.

  Oliver never minded her absence. This was a difficult calling—he knew that—but he also knew it was his place to be here at this time. Now, though, as the mystery of Anna’s disappearance was shredding his heart, Oliver wished she were here with him or, at the very least, home waiting for him when he finished.

  –––

  Anna wasn’t home like he’d hoped when he arrived, but his house was clean and full of people. The prayer team was there, along with his pastoral staff. Like Sonya had welcomed his presence, Oliver welcomed theirs. His tank was empty and it wasn’t beneath him to admit that he needed support.

  Everyone in his living room was worried, not accusatory, but wondering why he’d waited so long to make a report.

  “I wasn’t certain,” he told them. “Maybe she did need time away to pray. We’ve told you how disheartening the last doctor’s appointment was. Anna was angry about the prognosis and she has in the past needed time to herself in order to work things out.”

  Nods all around. He and Anna had been before the board many times, asking for prayer about the cancer situation.

  Casey Reno burst into the house breathless. “Pastor Mac! I just heard. Anna is missing?”

  The words sliced Oliver with a reality he could deny if it wasn’t voiced, and he had to take a breath before answering. “Casey, I just don’t have any idea where she could be.”

  “I saw her just before she left town the day before yesterday. I . . . I can’t believe this.”

  “You saw her?”

  “Yes, she came into the bookstore and asked me to order the books for the women’s Bible study. She was on her way to Butte Falls to talk to Octavio.”

  Oliver frowned. Anna hadn’t mentioned planning to take such a trip. Octavio was a pastor in the small town of Butte Falls, southeast of Rogue’s Hollow. He had a tiny congregation but a way with the most difficult of people.

  “Why was she going there?”

  “She didn’t say. She just told me in an offhand way as she was leaving the shop.”

  “I didn’t know she’d gone to see Octavio. Will you tell Chief O’Rourke what you just told me?” He pulled out his phone.

  “Sure.”

  “I’m calling Octavio. You call the chief.”

  –––

  Tess’s phone began ringing before she finished lunch. Steve Logan turned out to be charming lunch company and she was sorry for the interruption. The first couple of calls were from local news, the paper and all the area TV stations. She’d expected coverage but soon realized that Glen’s murder and Anna’s disappearance would be the lead stories. Murder and missing cases were sometimes ho-hum in Long Beach, but not here. She’d already sent the media press releases, but th
ey wanted on-air interviews. She was trying to think of a way to hand that off to Mayor Dixon when Casey Reno called.

  “Chief O’Rourke, I’m here with Pastor Mac, and I need to tell you that I saw Anna on Wednesday as she was getting ready to leave town.”

  Reno was talking very fast and Tess caught only a bit of what she was saying.

  “Slow down. I’m not getting everything. You saw Anna?”

  “Yes, she came into the bookstore. She told me that she was headed out to Butte Falls to talk to a pastor there, Octavio Donner. Pastor Mac is trying to get ahold of him now. It looks like the last place Anna was, was the Butte Falls church.”

  Butte Falls. An old logging town, small and still somewhat rural. Was this a place they could start searching?

  “Good news?” Logan asked when she disconnected.

  “Maybe. A possible lead in the Anna Macpherson case.”

  “Ah, good news for Pastor Mac. She turn up?”

  “No, but she was last seen on her way to Butte Falls. Maybe there’s a clue there. Thanks for lunch.” She got up and he stood with her.

  “My pleasure. I enjoyed the conversation.” His eyes sparkled with warmth.

  Tess felt her face redden slightly. It had been too long since she enjoyed this kind of attention from a man. “Likewise, Steve.”

  “You heading out to Butte Falls?”

  “I am.”

  “Want some company?”

  Tess wanted to say yes immediately. Before lunch she was cool concerning the sergeant, but now she found herself wavering back and forth from enchantment to disenchantment, stronger on the enchantment, when it came to Steve Logan. And she had to admit, she liked his company. He was a bright, entertaining guy. They’d even talked about getting together off duty. He promised to take her rafting down the Rogue, something that appealed to her a great deal. It sounded good to Tess, but was it too good to be true?

  “I was going to ask for the sheriff’s department’s help since Butte Falls is outside of my jurisdiction . . . ,” she said, hoping she sounded professional and not as lonely as she felt. When it came to romance, a part of her thought that everything in her mind was covered with the black gunk her divorce had thrown over her life. Was that still too dark and gooey? The other part of her liked Logan and longed for some closeness, a closeness she’d not had with Paul since well before the marriage officially ended.