Page 49 of The Fragile Ones

McGaven nodded and made several calls.

“Sissy?” said Katie. “Did Darren have family, or a partner somewhere?”

“The only thing he ever told me was his mom lived in Vegas.”

Katie whispered to McGaven, “He could be heading there—include those instructions on the APB.”

McGaven nodded.

Their search was interrupted when Katie’s cell phone rang. As she took in some news her face momentarily crumpled before she regained composure. “Yes, we know where it is. Thanks for the call,” was all she said before she hung up.

“What?” said McGaven.

“That was the chief. Mrs. Mayfield has been found dead in her home—apparent suicide.”

Chapter Twenty

Wednesday1215 hours

After loading up the DVDs from Darren Rodriguez’s apartment, and thanking Sissy for her help, Katie drove them straight to the Mayfield residence on Sandstone Way. When they arrived, there was already a city SUV, one police cruiser, and a dark navy van parked on the road. Two inquisitive neighbors were hovering in the driveway next door, and a couple more two houses down.

“Do you think Chief Osborne and his boys are capable of running a crime scene like this?” said McGaven.

“In a word, no,” she said with a quiet tone, as McGaven vocalized her biggest fear: that this was actually a homicide, and that the local police would potentially trample all over the evidence before they’d had a chance to look.

Katie grabbed a couple pairs of gloves and booties, giving McGaven one set of each, and they entered the yard through the small white picket gate. The ghosts of the Mayfield girls danced all around her.

“Detective Scott,” said Chief Osborne, as he hurried out through the front door allowing the screen to slam behind him.

“Chief, what do you have?” she said.

“We’re pretty sure it’s a suicide.”

“You know you can never get the crime scene back if you’re wrong,” said Katie. “It’s always good to operate on worst-case scenario.”

He turned, checking behind him as if to see if anyone was listening. “That’s why both of you are here—and perfectly timed, I might add. We have limited resources here, but do the best we can. I spoke with Sheriff Scott and he agrees you are the best around and should work the scene—whether it’s suicide or not. So this is your scene…”

“Okay,” said Katie, quickly realizing they didn’t have all the equipment they needed to properly work the crime scene, but knowing it had to be done now. “I want everyone out of the house. Has anyone touched the body or any of the evidence?”

“Just the first responder, Officer Mason, to see if she was alive.”

“I see,” she said. “Who called it in?”

“No one.”

“Why was Officer Mason here?”

“Mrs. Mayfield called the police herself.”

Katie felt her stomach drop, like she was on a helter-skelter. She glanced at McGaven. “Make sure everyone is out.” Turning to the chief, she said, “Do you have someone that can document the scene? A photographer?”

“That would be Wendell,” said the chief.

“Good. Get him here now, please.”

The chief moved toward his SUV and made a call on his cell phone.

Katie slipped on her gloves and booties, waiting for McGaven to escort Officer Mason and the morgue technician from the house.