Page 11

FAITH

T he whiteboard on the wall wasn’t giving me any answers, no matter how long I stared at it.

Coulter Rodman- ex- fiancé was at the top of the board, with Contacted the victim the day of death underneath.

I wanted to erase it because my gut told me it was irrelevant, but it was one of the few facts that we had, and couldn’t be denied.

The bareness of the rest of the board mocked me.

My attempt at arranging an elaborate depiction of the evidence in the case served only to highlight how little I’d been able to collect.

We had nothing but circumstantial evidence and thin theories.

For some insane reason, I felt personally responsible for not having anything of substance to work with.

Jake- fiancé was to the right of Coulter’s name, slightly lower.

But In Minnesota underneath pretty much ruled him out.

Three thousands miles of distance was a hell of an alibi.

Still, he could have had someone do his dirty work for him.

But after talking to Kylie’s mom, and reading his sweet text just before Kylie died, and seeing Kylie’s wedding-planning mode at the scene, it was hard to imagine what motive Jake might have had to harm her.

Still, we owed him a visit when he was back in town, and a deep dive into his finances for unusual activity.

I scribbled CHECK BANK ACCOUNTS/ CARDS underneath Jake's name.

Another small constellation on the board signaled where I needed to go next. Lorelei coworkers. Maybe someone there had seen her with an irate customer, or would have some insight into something amiss in Kylie’s final days.

I stared at it for a few more minutes. Nothing on that board supported the strong feeling in my gut that this was not an accidental drowning.

Death before 4pm

Water in lungs

Blunt force trauma to the head

Possible lock tampering

Shoes?

Jeep?

I had nothing. And that's exactly what my boss would see when he got there later today.

“Hey Louis,” I called out. “What do you know about the Lorelei?”

He smiled. “The sunsets are the best, and the Key Lime Coladas, oh man…” he closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the thought.

“Do you know who owns it?” I asked, steering the conversation back to the point .

“The Lindbach family as far as I know. Unless they’ve sold out and gone corporate like so many other restaurants have.”

“Can you find me a contact for them?”

“Sure thing.” He spun back around to his computer, the keys clacking.

“Thanks.” I replied, turning back to the case board. I studied it, willing my brain to make a connection. “We must be missing something,” I muttered.

Oscar’s booming voice from behind me made me jump. “If you’ve missed something, we’ll find it.”

I turned, surprised. He was earlier than I expected. “Detective Ramirez.” I popped to my feet, extending my hand. “Welcome back. How was your holiday?”

“Short,” he said with a reluctant smile, shaking my hand firmly. “But when duty calls, you have to answer.” His eyes scanned the board. “The Sheriff already filled me in on what he knows. Tell me what you’ve got.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath, feeling like I was back in Calculus class, trying to explain something I didn’t understand.

“Right. So far, there’s not a lot to go on.

The victim, Kylie Russell, was found drowned, but it’s unclear how she ended up in the water, or the source of the blunt force trauma to her right temple ”

Ramirez leaned in closer, examining the sparse notes and photos on the board. “Walk me through everything from the beginning.”

I started from the top, detailing the timeline, the lack of witnesses, and the inconclusive autopsy report.

“We know Kylie was supposed to be at work at the Lorelei at 4pm. She spoke to her mother that morning around ten, texted with her fiancé Jake, who’s in Minnesota, after three.

Nothing of note in her apartment. She’d apparently made herself something to eat, presumably while getting ready for work.

A neighbor found her floating in the canal several hours later.

There are no signs of forced entry or struggle.

No evidence on the dock or boat that’s tied up there.

The preliminary coroner’s report listed the cause of death as drowning, but also noted the blunt force trauma I mentioned.

We’re waiting on a more extensive report shortly. ”

Detective Ramirez scanned the board, his expression serious. “What’s this about lock tampering?” he continued, pointing to the note.

“The finish around the lock casing of Kylie’s front door had possible scratches, and the key didn’t fit quite right,” I explained. “It could indicate someone trying to pick the lock. I’ve asked forensics to take the lock apart and see what they can find.”

He frowned. “Doesn’t sound very definitive…anything else out of place at the victim’s apartment?”

I shook my head. “Not that I could see. It was clean, neat, except for her lunch remnants. It looked like she’d been planning her wedding.” I felt a chill at the memory, and the strong conviction that someone had stolen her future.

Oscar fixed his gaze on the name at the top of the board. “What about Coulter Rodman?”

“Former fiancé. They broke up six years ago. He’d texted her the day she died, but she didn’t answer. ”

“Well, that sounds like our best lead so far.” Oscar stepped back and crossed his arms.

I hesitated, not wanting to implicate Coulter further. “I questioned him, at length. I thought he was suspicious at first, especially given that his texts to the victim were in response to her telling him that she’s newly engaged. But after interviewing him further, I tend to believe him.”

Oscar chuckled, and rubbed his chin. “The Rodman boys are all charmers. What was his explanation then?”

“He claims he was trying to speak to her in person to gauge the depth of her commitment to her new fiancé, and to wish her well if she was truly happy with him.” I said it with conviction, but hearing myself say it sounded ridiculous.

“And you believed him?” Ramirez scoffed, incredulous.

“After considerable questioning, I did,” I admitted.

Oscar’s eyes narrowed. “Did the Sheriff have any influence on your opinion? You may or may not be aware that he’s best buddies with the father, Spencer.”

“I’m aware. In fact, I asked him to leave the initial interrogation because he’s too close to the case. So, no, he didn’t influence my judgment.”

Oscar’s brows raised, a brief hint of a smile on his lips.

Standing up to the Sheriff might have earned me some credibility.

“It’s early yet for judgment,” Oscar cautioned.

“And for the record, you were right. We should keep the Sheriff out of any investigation into Coulter Rodman. I know you’re new to this small town, but this is a damn good example of why detective work is tricky in Smugglers Cove. ”

“Noted.” At least we agreed on that. Ramirez had made it clear that he hadn’t wanted me for a partner when I joined the force. In the few months since, we had disagreed on most things. This was the first time he’d ever said I was right about anything.

I debated whether to tell him about finding Coulter at the scene before I remembered that Coulter’s fingerprints would show up on the key.

“When I went back to the scene this morning, Coulter was there.” I said, watching for his reaction.

I explained the whole interaction in as much detail as I could recall.

“Truthfully, after all that, he didn’t seem like a likely suspect. ”

Oscar shook his head, disappointed. “Let’s get back out to the scene for another look before it gets even more compromised.”

A forest green Tahoe pulled in behind us as soon as we’d parked. A pale, drawn woman stepped out, her hands immediately covering her face when she saw us. Sobs escaped between her fingers. This must be Kylie’s mom, back from Texas.

“Mrs. Anderson?” I said gently, walking up to rest my hand on her shoulder.

“Yes, Kylie’s mother,” she said, her voice trembling before she broke into sobs again.

I patted her arm for a few moments as she cried, while Ramirez paced anxiously.

A tall, lanky man stepped out of the driver's side, and reached to shake my partner’s hand.

“Ed Anderson. Kylie’s stepfather.” After we stared at each other for too long, I finally said, “We need to walk through Kylie’s apartment with you, when you’re up to it. ”

Kylie’s mom nodded, taking a deep breath and wiping her eyes. “Just give me a minute to take my things upstairs.”

“Of course, take your time.”

While we waited, I walked Oscar through the scene outside, showing him the boat and the dock, before pointing to the north where the body had been found three houses down the canal. We exchanged theories in low voices, and both jumped when a blood-curdling scream came from upstairs.

“Mrs. Anderson? Mrs. Anderson!” We drew our weapons and raced up the steps. As we reached the top, she appeared at the door, visibly shaken, with her wide-eyed husband on her heels. “Someone was here. It’s been ransacked,” she shouted. “My whole house has been ransacked!”

We motioned for her to step outside and let us pass.

“Accidental drownings don’t usually end up with a house being tossed,” Oscar muttered as we stepped inside.

“Mrs. Anderson, you stay out here for a moment, while we clear the scene.” Ed stepped onto the landing beside her, hugging her into his side.