Page 28 of Crime Lab Cold Case (Pacific Northwest Forensics #2)
“Maybe we can get something on this John Westfall. Were you able to find out anything more about him besides his current residency at Shady View?” Natalie hadn’t had any time of her own to check into him after leaving Rachelle’s last night.
The car accident, the shooting and discovering Rachelle had taken a toll on her body and mind.
She’d fallen into bed last night and had slipped into an exhausted sleep.
The old nightmare didn’t even revisit her.
“Not much. Enlisted in the navy. Worked at Boeing for years, and retired from there when he had his accident.”
“The shooting accident?”
Michael shook his head. “No, he almost drowned. Suffered brain damage. That’s why he’s in the rest home. He’s not that old, or at least not as old as you’d expect a resident of Shady View to be.”
“Brain damage, huh?” Natalie swirled her coffee and watched the little whirlpool in the cup. “Is he going to be able to talk to us?”
“No clue.” Michael lifted his shoulders. “But it probably means he didn’t sneak out of the rest home and murder Raine or fix your brakes or shoot at you.”
Natalie folded her hands in her lap and tried to squeeze away the disappointment she felt.
When Michael had told her about the bullets matching Westfall’s gun, she’d figured they’d finally gotten a break.
Something going their way for once. Now, the prospect of an interview with Westfall didn’t seem so promising.
They arrived at Shady View faster than Natalie had time to regain her previous optimism. She eyed the spruce, the firs, the maples and alders ringing the property, blocking out the daylight. “They weren’t kidding about the shady view, were they?”
“Shady and green.”
Michael got out of the vehicle, and she followed suit, inhaling the competing smells from the different trees that gradually melded into a fresh scent that slapped the face.
She shivered and zipped up her jacket. “This is pretty, but I wouldn’t want to end up in a place like this. Too dark.”
“I know.” Michael flipped up his collar. “I mean, they have a bay, a river and a sound out here. You’d think they could’ve given the guests a nice water view.”
She jostled Michael’s shoulder with her own as they approached the entrance. “They’re not guests.”
A smiling woman greeted them at the front desk. “Hello, I’m Monica. Welcome to Shady View. Are you looking for a place for your loved one?”
Michael spoke up first. “Uh, no. We came to visit one of your…guests. John Westfall.”
Did Natalie imagine it, or did Monica’s smile dim just a little?
“Do you have an appointment to see John?” Monica started clicking away on the keyboard in front of her.
“No. John’s an old friend of my father’s. I was in the area, and thought I’d drop in to say hello from my dad. That’s alright, isn’t it, Monica?”
Maybe Michael’s blue eyes mesmerized her, but Monica was all smiles again. She even had a pink tinge to her cheeks. “Of course. We just need to ask John. What’s the name?”
Natalie kicked Michael’s foot. What if Westfall refused to see them?
“Tell him it’s Jerry Wilder’s son—from their old navy days.”
“Just a moment, Mr. Wilder. I’ll call his nurse.”
As Monica got on the phone, Michael wandered to the window to look out on the unrelenting green.
Natalie came up behind him and whispered, “Is your dad’s name Jerry?”
“No. Just thought I’d try a common name. Is he going to remember everyone he served with?”
“I don’t know. These old guys can surprise you. My grandfather couldn’t remember my nephew’s name, but he could tell you all about the Battle of the Bulge…in detail.”
“Great.” Michael spun around when Monica called out.
“Mr. Wilder? John has agreed to your visit. Room one-sixty-five, down your hall, to the right.”
“Thank you, Monica,” he said sotto voce to Natalie as Monica buzzed the door. “We’re in.”
They ticked off the room numbers as they walked down the hallway, their shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor.
Natalie’s nose twitched at the smell of antiseptic that tried to cover the mustiness that seeped through.
The denizens of Shady View should open the windows more and let in some of that fresh air.
When they reached 165, the door stood partially open, and Michael tapped on it before walking inside. The balding man facing them in a wheelchair did not look like he was capable of standing, never mind cutting brake lines and shooting a gun.
Undeterred, Michael pulled a chair close to Westfall, his knees almost touching those of the disabled man. “John, can you hear me?”
One side of John’s mouth quirked upward in a permanent grin, but he nodded.
Michael got straight to the point. “John, did you own an old Beretta?”
John moved a stiff hand in his lap, the fingers curled inward. Natalie held her breath as she focused on his hand.
A nurse bustled into the room with a board under her arm. “If you expect to have a conversation with John, he needs his bell.”
“Bell?” Natalie watched as the nurse put the board on John’s lap and set a call bell on top of it, positioning his hand on top of the bell.
“One for yes, two for no. Right, John?” She squeezed John’s shoulder and exited the room, leaving the door open.
Michael exchanged a look with Natalie and started again. “Did you own a Beretta, John?”
John’s finger went to the ringer, which he tapped once.
“Do you still have that gun?”
Two rings.
“Was it stolen?”
Two rings.
Natalie held up a hand to Michael and asked, “Does a family member have the gun?”
Two rings.
Michael hunched forward, almost in Michael’s face. “Do the cops have that gun?”
One ring.
Natalie gasped and drew back. “How could that gun be in police custody? They gave it back to him. It said so in the report, right?”
“Unless the cops gave the gun to a family member, and that relative didn’t tell John he still had the gun.” Michael rubbed a twitch at the corner of his eye.
“Is that what the report said?”
Michael sighed. “It didn’t specify whether it was given back to John or a family member.”
“Can I try something else?” Natalie put her hand on Michael’s arm, and he drew back from John.
“John, did you know about a girl named Katie Fellows?”
One ring.
Natalie’s adrenaline spiked, and she dropped to her knees in front of John. “Did you harm her? Did you, John?”
The other side of John’s mouth lifted. His crooked finger hovered over the ringer. Natalie’s breath came in short spurts as she watched him lower his finger to the bell.
He pressed down.
She waited, heart pounding.
The finger stayed pinned against the ringer.
She lifted her gaze to his face, noticing for the first time the blackness of his eyes as he stared at her. Fury whipped through her veins. “Ring the bell, John. Yes or no. Ring it.”
“Natalie.” Michael stroked her back, but she shrugged him off.
“Ring the bell, you bastard. Ring it once. I know it was you.”
“Mr. Wilder!” The nurse had come charging back into the room. “What is going on in here? Get out now, or I’ll call the police.”
Michael gripped her arm and practically dragged her to her feet. “Let’s go Natalie. There was a misunderstanding. We’re leaving now. John’s fine.”
The nurse crouched in front of John’s wheelchair and as Michael led her from the room, Natalie craned her neck around the nurse’s broad back to meet those black eyes again. Then she heard the bell ring once.