Crisis Shot Page 16

  “I’ll check in and let them know that I’m with you.”

  “I have to stop by the church. Pastor Macpherson wants to come with me when I talk to this pastor in Butte Falls.”

  “You want him tagging along?”

  “I do. He knows his wife’s habits.” She caught her breath when she realized there was a different meaning to his question. “Do you think he had something to do with his wife’s disappearance?”

  Logan shrugged, cop face securely in place. “Pastor Mac has a good reputation in the valley. I don’t go to his church, but I know a lot who do. But you know as well as I do, appearances can be deceiving.”

  Tess nodded. She did know that—boy, did she know that. But her cop instincts told her Macpherson was innocent here. He’d have a better idea of his wife’s route, habits, whatever, than she would.

  “I think he’ll be helpful. I’ll pick him up and follow you to Butte Falls.”

  “You’re the chief.” He smiled and squeezed her upper arm in a casual way, but it nonetheless sent a pleasant shiver down Tess’s spine. It might be quite uplifting to maintain friendly relations with the county sheriff’s department liaison.

  The church parking lot was packed when Tess pulled in. It looked as if the whole town and then some were at the pastor’s home. She was happy to see someone had helped the pastor clean up the mess the burglar made. Logan didn’t get out of his car when Tess went to get Pastor Macpherson. She could see that the pastor’s head was down, and he was listening to an older man who was speaking into his ear. The crowd of people looked her way expectantly, and Tess did her best to project command presence and confidence.

  “Chief, I wish I’d known at breakfast you were looking for Anna.” Casey stepped forward, a familiar face in the crowd. But there was worry etched in her face.

  “Me too, but we weren’t certain then. Did she say anything about why she was going to Butte Falls? Did she have an appointment?”

  “No.” Casey bit her bottom lip. “I should have asked more questions, but it was so routine, so normal . . .” She wiped an eye.

  “Chief O’Rourke, are the break-in at the pastor’s house and Anna being missing related?” The question came from Damien Gangly, the man who compiled the crime section of the local paper. The area was small enough that weekly arrests were noted in the independent newspaper. Tess had dealt with Damien often and considered him a fair, thoughtful man. He had his signature camera slung around his neck and recorder in his hand.

  “Everything is preliminary, Damien.”

  “But you must have a theory.”

  “Sure, I could speculate, but that won’t get us anywhere at the moment. The pressing issue is the location of Anna Macpherson. As far as that goes, I want facts and good leads, not speculation. Now, excuse me. I need Pastor Macpherson.”

  She searched the sea of semi-familiar faces, and without her asking, they parted for the pastor to walk toward her. She noticed the man who’d been speaking to him was by his side, a man Tess vaguely recognized. She’d met a lot of people in two months; names were sometimes difficult to put to faces. This guy obviously had the pastor’s ear. He had an interesting scarred face with a flattened nose, and Tess wondered if he’d been a boxer.

  “I’m here, Chief, ready to go,” Pastor Macpherson said.

  “Are you going to Butte Falls?” Damien asked. “Do you need volunteers? Searchers?”

  Tess held a hand up, cognizant that everyone was watching and listening to her. “We’re going to talk to the person who possibly was the last to see Anna Macpherson and try and retrace her steps. It’s important that we have a chance to evaluate this situation before we ask for volunteers or organize a large-scale search.”

  “Haven’t you wasted enough time already?” That came from Mayor Dixon and it surprised Tess. He’d been supportive earlier.

  The man with the flat nose cut off her answer. In a rough, deep voice he said, “Now, Douglas, stop being a wannabe cop and let the chief do her job. She needs to know all the facts before letting people like you muck it up.” That got some chuckles from the crowd and Dixon shot the man a glare.

  “Mayor Dixon—” Tess worked on her best conciliatory tone—“channel 10 and channel 12 are sending film crews to Rogue’s Hollow. They’d like an on-air interview. It would be a great help if you could handle that.”

  Dixon’s whole demeanor changed. “TV news? 10 and 12?”

  “Yes. I e-mailed you the press release. There’s really nothing else to add, but if you could do the interview, I’d appreciate it.”

  All eyes were on the mayor.

  He nodded. “Yes, well, I believe I can handle that.”

  “Great.”

  She turned to Macpherson, who looked around at the crowd.

  “Thank you, Jethro. Thank you for your help today. I ask that you keep Anna in your prayers until we have something else for you to do or we bring her home.”

  Nods and murmurs of approval rippled through the crowd. And Tess couldn’t help but notice the effect Macpherson had on people. As tired as he looked, and as stressed as she bet he was, he could give a class on command presence and leadership, she thought. Part of her wondered what it would be like to listen to one of his sermons. She shook off the thought and directed the pastor to her patrol car.

  Butte Falls was roughly forty minutes away, a left turn off of Highway 62. After they left Rogue’s Hollow, they drove through Trail, then Shady Cove. The ride was quiet for the first ten or fifteen minutes. Finally Macpherson spoke up.

  “That Steve Logan in the sheriff’s car?” he asked.

  “Yeah, you know him?”

  “I’ve spoken to him once or twice.”

  “We’re going to his jurisdiction, so it’s good to have his help.” She cast a glance at the pastor. He was looking out the window and she couldn’t read him.

  “Your wife didn’t mention going out here to speak to this other pastor, this Octavio fellow?”

  “No, but I’d left just after breakfast, had a meeting to attend. She might have gotten a call from Octavio and didn’t want to disturb me. I’m guessing. I called him but he was out cutting wood. By the time we get to the church, he’ll be available.”

  “Is it out of the ordinary for her to head off to Butte Falls?”

  “Not really. We work closely with Octavio, and Anna is good friends with his wife, Esperanza. She’s learning to speak Spanish and likes to practice with Esperanza.”

  Tess made the turn for Butte Falls behind Logan and the car again fell silent. She realized then that she felt certain now the pastor was not guilty here. Anna needed to be found, but anxiety welled up inside. Tess’s gut told her Anna was not missing voluntarily. And that left only the other alternative: she was missing because she couldn’t come home, because someone was holding her against her will or she was dead.

  The second possibility pained Tess more than she would have thought possible.

  25

  The Butte Falls church was on Crowfoot Road. Technically not in Butte Falls proper, it was in Eagle Point but served Butte Falls. It was small and reminded Tess of an old-fashioned one-room schoolhouse, with a peaked roof sporting a cross where a school bell might have been. They’d climbed some in elevation. There was forest all around and the smell of pine trees and fresh air hit as soon as she got out of the car. A slight man who looked Mexican met them as they approached the building.

  “Pastor Mac.” He smiled, looking hesitant as his eyes took in Tess and Logan. “What’s up? Esperanza say you called for me.” His speech was heavily accented.

  “Octavio.” Macpherson held his hand out and the two men shook. “I don’t think you’ve met our new chief.” He gestured to Tess. “This is Chief O’Rourke. And you know Sergeant Logan.”

  Octavio nodded and Tess shook his offered hand. “Nice to meet you, Chief O’Rourke, but I think something must be wrong, you here.”

  “We don’t know that yet. We just wanted to ask you some questions.” />
  “Yes,” Macpherson jumped in. “Octavio, did Anna come to see you the day before yesterday?”

  Octavio nodded slowly and set Tess on edge. There was something off about this guy.

  “Sí. She come to talk about Glen.”

  “Glen?” Macpherson looked surprised. Tess and Logan exchanged glances.

  “What about Glen?” Tess asked.

  Octavio grinned. “He’s a believer now. He came to Christ, got clean from the drugs. Anna, she want to make sure that Glen, he tell the truth.” He paused. Then held his hands up. “Well, it’s true. Glen, he Christian now.”

  Obviously the Rogue telegraph and news of Glen’s murder had not reached here for some reason. However, Octavio’s information brightened Macpherson. Tess remembered enough of church to know that this was important to believing individuals. For a brief second it brought back the memory of how happy her dad had been when she was baptized. Shaking the memory from her thoughts, she concentrated on the task at hand and couldn’t help but notice that Octavio would not look her in the eye. He concentrated on Macpherson. He didn’t even glance at Logan.

  “Glen’s more than that, Octavio. He was murdered yesterday.”

  Octavio’s eyes got wide. “Murdered? What, uh . . . how this happen?”

  Macpherson filled him in.

  “Oh, Dios mío,” he said, shaking his head. “Who would do this? What does it have to do with Anna?”

  “We’re trying to figure that out. How long was she here with you?” Tess asked.

  Octavio hiked a shoulder. “We had lunch, my wife with us; then she go home. One, maybe one thirty.”

  “Did she tell you she was going home when she left?”

  “Sí, she say she want to tell Pastor Mac about Glen. She was very happy.” Again he muttered something in Spanish. Tess caught shock in his tone and his words, something about the devil’s work. Murder was that.

  Tess saw Macpherson frown. Octavio saw it too because he asked, “What’s wrong? Something happen to Anna?”

  “We don’t know,” Macpherson said. “She . . . well, she hasn’t called or anything and she’s not been home since Wednesday morning. Glen told you that he changed his life, or you see that he did?”

  “I see with my own eyes. He’s a new person. And now he’s with Jesus.”

  Tess folded her arms and stared at Octavio, wondering if this information about Glen could possibly have any bearing on Anna’s whereabouts. “Anna didn’t mention a side trip, another stop, anything?”

  Octavio shrugged. “No, nothing.” He looked down at his feet.

  After a beat to get the man’s reaction, she asked, “Is your wife here now?”

  Octavio looked toward the church. “Yes, she’s with the baby.”

  “I’d like to talk to her.” Tess started for the door.

  But Octavio stopped her. “Not here. My house. It’s over there.” He pointed to the other side of the lot to a single-wide trailer. “But she don’t know where Anna is.”

  “I’d still like to ask her myself.” Tess nodded to Logan. “I’ll be right back.”

  He said nothing and Tess couldn’t read his expression. Could Logan see there was something wrong here or was it just her?

  As she walked away, she could hear the three men begin talking about Anna, Octavio’s dismay sounding insincere as far as Tess was concerned.

  A woman peered through the curtains as Tess approached the trailer. Her face was visible above a sticker with the PSS security logo. As she stepped up on a small wooden porch, the curtain dropped abruptly.

  Tess rapped on the door. “Esperanza, it’s the police. I just want to ask you a few questions.”

  She heard shuffling and the sound of a baby cooing. It was a long moment before the door opened.

  “Sí?” A dark-haired woman with beautiful eyes and a fearful expression stood in the doorway, holding a baby on her hip. “I no speak English,” she said, smiling tentatively.

  “No importa. Hablo español.” Tess was fluent in Spanish and she could tell Esperanza was surprised by that.

  Tess asked about Anna, and Esperanza looked anxiously over Tess’s shoulder at her husband before she answered. She basically said the same thing her husband did, except for the time Anna left. Esperanza said Anna left sometime after two and that she had a long, private talk with Octavio before she did go.

  Tess mulled this over as she walked back across the parking lot to the church. Octavio was hiding something—she could feel it—but it didn’t track with her that it was murder. Still, she couldn’t assume. She glanced around the church grounds and knew there could be a car hidden somewhere. She and Logan would have to take a look.

  “What specifically did you and Anna talk about?” she asked Octavio when she returned to the men.

  “Glen. I told you.”

  Before Tess could follow up, Macpherson spoke up. “Octavio specializes in reaching hard-to-reach men. He’s a prison chaplain. This is big that Glen turned away from his old life and wanted a new one.”

  “I get that,” Tess said, keeping eyes on Octavio. “But your wife said you had a long, private conversation with Anna. What did you talk about?”

  He seemed prepared and answered quickly. “A job. We try to think of where we can find Glen a good job.”

  If Octavio was surprised by their visit at first, he clearly had recovered. He looked Tess in the eye and smiled, but for the life of her, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something off about the guy.

  “Do you mind if Sergeant Logan and I take a look around the grounds?”

  He shook his head. “No, go ahead.”

  26

  “There are two ways to get home from here,” Oliver said after the chief asked him which way Anna would have gone home from the Butte Falls church. Logan had already left to return to White City, but not before he and the chief had a lengthy private conversation while they searched the church grounds. Oliver worked hard to stay calm, but it was clear the chief had a problem with Octavio.

  She was way off base, he was sure. Oliver had known Octavio for five years and seen only a man dedicated to helping those who could not seem to break away from drugs or a life of criminality.

  “What is the most likely route for her to take?”

  “The way we came. The other way is to head up Crowfoot to Highway 62. It takes longer because it’s winding and more scenic.”

  She started the car and pulled out of the church lot, heading in the direction of the scenic route. “Since we didn’t see any indication that her car broke down coming here, we’ll check out this route,” she said.

  He agreed with her by nodding but said nothing. The gravity of the search was striking home; what if they found Anna’s car on this road after all this time?

  He noticed that she drove less than the speed limit. Normally Oliver liked this route. Crowfoot climbed up into the mountains bordering Butte Falls. It was rural here. A lot of houses were set on large pieces of forested land. He’d lived here as a child, and while he didn’t remember much of that time in his life, the pictures his parents cherished, the trees and the forests of southern Oregon, had cemented his desire to return to the area. God had since blessed him with a thriving church, and he soaked in the culture of the area, recognizing that the rich history of logging gave Oregonians an affinity with the land many people from out of state couldn’t understand. The forested scenery often gave him peace. But today he felt ready to jump out of his skin.

  “You’re wrong, you know,” he said to Chief O’Rourke.

  “About what?”

  “About Octavio. He would never hurt Anna.”

  “Do you think she’s hurt?”

  That question hit Oliver like a right cross to the jaw. “I, uh . . .” He sucked in a breath. Grabbing hold of the handle above the door, he squeezed and braced himself to say what he’d been thinking but didn’t want to be true.

  It was out there now. The implication hung over Oliver like a noose.
>
  “I can’t imagine any other reason why she hasn’t called or come home.”

  Anna was not coming home.

  He felt Chief O’Rourke glance his way but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  “I just have a bad feeling about your friend. A gut instinct he’s hiding something. It might not be about Glen’s murder, but it’s something. I trust my instincts; they’ve always served me well. Rule #4: ‘Always trust your gut.’”

  “Maybe, but I trust Octavio.”

  “Trust him because he’s a fellow pastor?”

  Now Oliver did meet her gaze. “No, because he’s a friend.”

  “Fair enough,” she said and returned her attention to the road.

  She slowed a couple of times. Oliver noticed her checking out side roads, driveways, anything that looked traveled, he thought. They were losing daylight. It was when they began to travel downhill that she pulled over and stopped at an overgrown logging road.

  “Ever been on that road?”

  He eyeballed the side road. “No. Doesn’t look passable.”

  “Someone has driven it lately.” She shifted the car into park and got out.

  Oliver followed after a few seconds. The chief made her way down the road as it jogged right into a copse of trees. He wasn’t certain who saw it first, but there in the brush, he saw the rear end of a sedan.

  Anna’s car.

  Oliver lurched forward, but Chief O’Rourke grabbed his arm, the strength of her grip surprising him and stopping him cold.

  “Let me look first. I don’t want you destroying any evidence.”

  A protest died on Oliver’s lips, the impulse to scream for Anna almost overpowering. He knew the chief was right, but the urge to leap forward and look inside the car was all-consuming.

  She stepped toward the vehicle carefully, pulling gloves out of her pocket as she did so. He saw her touch the trunk and lean down and sniff before continuing to the driver’s door. After an inspection she turned back toward Oliver.