Ice (A Chris Matheson Cold Case Mystery Book 1) Read online

  “Yeah, Bell, why are you treating Matheson like a common thug?” the sheriff asked with wide angry eyes.

  Rodney shot a glance in Chris’s direction, as if he expected help from his former best buddy. In silence, Chris grinned up him.

  “Ethel Lipton told me yesterday that she had information on a murder. Since Chris was a person of interest in her daughter’s disappearance—”

  “The FBI cleared Christopher as a suspect in Sandy’s murder decades ago,” Doris said with a wave of her hand.

  Rodney’s mouth dropped open. The toothpick dropped onto the floor.

  “Yeah,” Sheriff Bassett said, “the FBI cleared Christopher, Bell. So what are you interrogating him for?”

  “If you’d quit acting like a moron and take a few minutes to read Sandy Lipton’s case file,” Doris said, “you’d see that the FBI had a team of investigators confirm Christopher’s alibi themselves. If he hadn’t been cleared, he would’ve been fired at the very least.”

  “I thought he didn’t have an alibi,” Rodney said. “He was driving back to Quantico when she disappeared.”

  “Which included toll roads, which have traffic cameras at the gates,” Doris said. “They got pictures of his car with him behind the steering wheel, license plate, and time stamps.”

  “Plus, I had a roommate,” Chris said. “He confirmed the time I got home. There was no way I could have abducted Sandy around noon, driven to my apartment in Quantico by one o’clock, and meet friends for a volleyball game at two.”

  “But-but everyone says—” Rodney stuttered.

  “Because they only believe what they want to believe,” Doris said. “Kirk’s political enemies wanted to believe he used his influence to protect Christopher and cover up a murder. The FBI made a statement to the media about clearing him, but no one publicized that because the truth is never as sexy as the lie.” She looked the deputy sheriff up and down. “Even you, Rodney. I know you have issues with accepting responsibilities for your own mistakes—”

  “Now with all due respect, Ms. Matheson—”

  “Have you talked to Clarence Stengel?”

  “Who?” Rodney glanced again in Chris’s direction.

  “Hey!” Doris snapped her fingers in Rodney’s face, causing him to stand at attention as if he were before a law enforcement superior. “Don’t look at him. Look at me. I’ve asked you a question.”

  “I don’t know who Clarence Stengel is.” A bead of sweat rolled down Rodney’s temple to his cheek. “I swear.”

  “He’s the assistant manager at the department store and witnessed the altercation Ethel Lipton had moments before she was killed by two gang-bangers.”

  “Did you take Stengel’s statement, Bell?” the sheriff asked.

  “Well…”

  “Clarence knew the young woman that Ethel had gotten into a row with,” Doris said. “The police and DEA are very familiar with her. Her name is Precious Hawkins, the baby momma of Jose Martinez. She has a couple of kids by this animal—and takes great pride in having a big drug dealer for her man.”

  “We know Martinez.” The sheriff turned his full attention to Rodney. “His middle name is Bad News.”

  “Precious cut in line in front of Ethel,” Doris said. “That started the fight, which Precious recorded and sent to Jose with a text about what this awful woman had done to her—playing the victim card to the hilt. She then called him while store security was notifying the police. Jose assured her that he would take care of it.”

  His face red, the sheriff asked through clenched teeth, “Bell, have you even looked at Martinez for being behind this?”

  “Um—”

  “‘Um’ is not an answer,” Doris said. “I found this out with one phone call to Clarence while putting chains on the truck after Christopher called to tell me about you acting like an idiot.”

  “Her word, not mine,” Chris said. “I used the word ‘jackass.’”

  “Christopher, come. We’re going home.”

  Sheriff Bassett shoved Rodney out of the way in his rush to open the door for her.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Chris met his mother in the corridor.

  “Did you remember to pick up the milk and pancake mix?”

  “Um…”

  “‘Um’ is not an answer.”

  “I remembered to use our shoppers bonus card.”

  “Get in the truck, Christopher.”

  Sheriff Bassett leaned into the corridor to admire Doris’s departing figure. Once she was gone, he turned his attention to his second in command. “Did you see that?”

  “I saw Chris Matheson kill two men tonight and walk out of here,” Rodney said. “You even held the door for him.”

  “I was talking about Doris.” Sheriff Bassett smoothed his hair with his hands. “Did you see the blue sparks that came to her eyes when she was yelling at you?” He sighed. “I wonder if she’s still in mourning.”

  Chapter Seven

  As sleep gently slipped away, Chris became aware of a cold wet triangle pressed against the back of his neck. He opened his eyes only enough to peer out under his heavy eyelids and turned his head to see a huge black dog snout.

  During the night, Sterling had migrated from the dog bed in front of the fireplace to Chris’s room, which had been converted from the finished attic.

  Chris reached out from under the blankets to pat the German shepherd on top of the head and rolled back over onto his side. Equally mixed with snow, the sleet tap-tap-tapped on the roof above his head to lull him back to sleep.

  He was grateful he and his mother had made it home before the storm reached full intensity. They had to crawl along the river road and up the lane through one inch of snow, under which was a half an inch of solid ice.

  Pulling the thick comforter and blankets around him, Chris drifted into the sleep that comes from gratitude of not having to go outside into such weather.

  “Daddy?” said a soft little voice. “Are you asleep?”

  Fighting to stay in his sleep filled state, Chris reached out from under the blankets and tapped the little girl standing next to his bed. His fingers caressed the soft fur and long ears that he recognized as belonging to Thor. He walked his fingers up to the neck and small face.

  “Nonni wants to know if you want eggs to go with your pancakes,” Emma said.

  “We don’t have pancake mix,” Chris said in a whisper, so as to not wake himself up.

  “She’s making them from scratch.”

  “But we don’t have milk.”

  “She’s using almond milk.”

  “Oh, Lord, have mercy.” Chris rolled over onto his stomach and covered his head with the pillow. Thor jumped onto his back and climbed over him to join Sterling on the other side of the bed.

  Emma nudged him in the shoulder. “Do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Want eggs with your pancakes?”

  “Tell her I want eggs and no pancakes.”

  Pressing his eyelids shut, he listened to the pitter patter of her footsteps across the hardwood floor and down to the next floor. With a heavy sigh, he drifted back to sleep. Sterling curled up at the foot of the bed and Thor made a nest between Chris’s ankles.

  While Chris had been at the book club meeting the night before, Doris had introduced Thor to Sterling. Surprisingly, when they returned home from the police station, they found Thor sleeping with Sterling in the dog bed.

  Chris was vaguely aware of two small feet clambering up the steps and across the floor to his side of the bed.

  He stretched his arm behind himself and out from under the covers to grasp her arm. This girl was bigger than Emma. He felt a Pandora bracelet on her wrist—the same one that he had given to his late wife for Christmas the year Emma was born. After his wife’s death, he had given it to Katelyn, who never took it off
.

  “Dad, are you asleep?”

  “No, I’m chopping firewood. Don’t you see the pile of logs at the foot of the bed?”

  Katelyn giggled. “Nonni wants to know if you want bacon or sausage or both.”

  “Both.”

  “And how do you want your eggs?”

  “Scrambled.”

  She made it to the top of the stairs before Chris stopped her. “Katelyn honey?”

  “Yes, Dad?”

  “I’m sorry I yelled at you yesterday,” he said while keeping his head under the pillow. Apologizing was easier if he didn’t have to look at her. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just upset about Tara digging up lies from ancient history to hurt you.”

  “Well I’m sorry for even asking you about it. I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re right. You’d never do the stuff they were saying you did. Forget it.”

  “No, I won’t,” he said. “I’m going to find out what happened to that girl.”

  “Daddy, you don’t have to do that for me.”

  “Not for you. Not for me either. For her. Sandy was a nice girl. Something happened to her—something awful. She deserves justice.”

  There was a smile in her voice when she said, “And knowing you, Dad, you will find out what happened. I’d hate to be the bad guy when you catch up with him.”

  He listened for her to trot down the stairs. Instead, she returned to his bedside. “Dad?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Can I have an advance in my allowance?”

  Do we have to have this conversation now? He groaned. He could make it easy and say yes. She’d leave happy, and he’d go back to sleep. Or, he could do the right thing and interrogate her, which would teach her a lesson about being responsible with money.

  “How much of an advance?” he muttered.

  “Thirty dollars.”

  “For what?”

  “Valentine’s Day,” she said. “It’s this Saturday and Zack invited me to go to the movies and dinner.”

  “And you want to buy a Valentine’s Day present for Zack.” Chris fought to conceal the abundance of disgust wanting to spill into his voice.

  “No, I already got him a Valentine’s Day present,” she said. “That’s what I used my allowance for. I need money for the movie and dinner.”

  Tossing the pillow aside, Chris rolled over to face her. The daylight caused him to blink several times before she came into view.

  Proud of being asked out on her first date, Katelyn had a wide smile on her face.

  “This boy asked you out on a date for Valentine’s Day, but you have to pay?”

  Katelyn nodded her head. “Of course.”

  “Of course? What do you mean ‘of course?’” he said. “You bought him a Valentine’s Day present, and he asks you out and expects you to pay. That’s not a date.”

  “You don’t understand, Dad.”

  “Make me understand.”

  “He can’t afford to pay my way because he’s taking Tara to lunch and the matinee.”

  “I thought he was taking you to the matinee.”

  “After her,” she said. “And it isn’t fair for us to expect him to pay for both of us, so he’s not paying for either of us.” She smiled. “I’ve got him for dinner. Isn’t that great?”

  Afraid of what he might say, Chris dropped down onto his back and pulled the blankets up over his head.

  “Daddy?”

  “Not now.”

  “But—”

  “We’ll talk about it later.”

  She hurried downstairs.

  Thor burrowed under the comforter and proceeded to chew on his hair. Chris ignored the bunny because mentally he was busy giving Zack Daniels a lecture on being a gentleman. At the climax of his speech, Chris grabbed Zack by the throat and shook sense into him. He was so enthralled with his lesson about gentlemanly manners that he didn’t hear his remaining offspring gallop up the stairs and across the floor.

  “Hey, Dad,” Nikki said in such a loud voice that he jumped under the thick blankets, “do you want me to clean out the stalls and feed the horses so you can sleep in?”

  The snow and sleet tapered off by noon. The clouds parted to allow the sun to shine on a four-inch deep snowy blanket trapped between two thick layers of ice.

  Except for Emma’s chatter, all was still when Chris led his girls on horseback along the trails winding through the thick woods at the opposite end of the farm. The woods ended at a two-lane road that led to the freeway cutting straight across the mountain to connect Virginia with Charles Town. The snow-covered riding trail also acted as a service road to the utility poles located at various points across the countryside.

  The riders heard an occasional vehicle whizzing by on the freeway on the other side of the woods. The highway department had continuously salted the road during the night to keep it clear for those unfortunate enough to not get a day off.

  At first, Chris feared that Sterling would take off and get lost in his new surroundings. But, Sterling had instantly become attached to his new master—following him around the farm house and darting out the door to tag along when he and Nikki went to saddle up the horses.

  On the trail, the German shepherd trotted alongside Traveler while Mocha and Sadie disappeared into the woods in their pursuit of various critters.

  Watching the Doberman and lab, Sterling’s ears would perk up. He’d gaze up at Chris sitting on top of Traveler, as if to ask permission to follow. Even when Chris consented, Sterling chose to stay with him. Instead, the dog trotted up and down the line of horses, as if to take count to make sure no one was missing.

  They rode single-file, Chris at the front of the line and Doris bringing up the rear on her chestnut mare. Off in the distance, a train making its way through Millville blew its whistle. The CSX and metro train tracks ran along the river, past the tiny town, and then snaked through the countryside to Martinsburg in the next county.

  Far up along the trail, Mocha’s and Sadie’s barking took on an urgent tone.

  “Sounds like they found something to chase,” Doris said.

  “I hope they don’t go too far.” Katelyn sat up in her saddle and leaned over to peer around Chris. “Cat Tail Road is only about a half mile up ahead. If they decide to chase it out into the road—”

  “They both know better than to run into the road,” Doris assured her.

  His ears standing tall, Sterling had moved up ahead of them on the trail and waited. Chris held up his hand in a fist—a signal for them to stop.

  There was something about the tone of the dogs’ barks that he didn’t like. It was more serious. They weren’t playfully chasing a squirrel.

  After a long moment, the barking stopped. Sadie came into sight—trotting toward them with something in her mouth.

  “What did they catch?” Nikki asked.

  Equally curious, Sterling moved in for a closer look. The Doberman ran past him to trot up to Chris, who leaned down from his saddle to grab the object.

  It was a fedora hat.

  “They brought down Indiana Jones!” Katelyn said with a giggle.

  While the girls laughed, Chris twisted around to peer at Doris. She was not laughing. Neither was he.

  A retired security dog, Sadie had returned without Mocha, whose experience was in search and rescue. The lab had been trained to locate and stay with someone who had been lost or injured.

  “Stay with the girls,” Chris told his mother while gesturing for Sadie to lead him to Mocha. He galloped up the trail and around the bend to find the Labrador sitting on the side of the path. Mocha peered at a thick leafless briar bush at the bottom of a gully.

  “What did you find, girl?” Chris dismounted and petted the dog who led him downhill to the thicket. As he drew closer, he noticed a pair of legs clad in d
ark trousers and boots sticking out from under the bush.

  Off the service road, tucked under the overgrown bush at the bottom of a hillside, the body could have easily gone unnoticed if it hadn’t been for the dogs picking up its scent.

  Careful to leave as few footprints as possible, Chris approached the figure, clad in a cloth coat, to see if he was still alive. He doubted it. The body was covered in ice and snow. He had been dumped before the storm.

  Still, Chris had to check to see if he was still alive. He moved in closer to examine the body.

  The side of his head was covered with thick blood from what appeared to have been a blow to the side of the skull. His flesh was blue.

  In spite of the body’s condition, Chris was able to make out his facial features. As he peered at him, he experienced a sense of recognition. The dead man had been unattractive in life. His nose was oversized with a huge bump at the end. He had a wide square jaw—not unlike the bottom of a jug.

  The memory of who he was and under what circumstances they had met sent a shock wave through Chris’s body. He fell back onto his rump in the snow. Careful to retrace his steps back to the road, he took out his cell phone and hit the button for Doris.

  “What’d they find?”

  “A body dump,” Chris said. “Take the girls back to the house.”

  “Do you want me to call the police or should you?”

  “I’ll call,” Chris said before he had a second thought. “Mom, do you know Helen’s phone number?”

  “Yes, I have it on my phone. Why?”

  “Can you call her for me? Tell her to get out here—off the record.”

  “Off the record? Why?”

  “Just ask her for me, please, Mom. It’s important.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Oh, Tommy, what did you get yourself into this time?” Chris asked the dead man in a low voice as if he feared that someone might be listening to their conversation.

  After his girls had left, he returned down the hill to examine the body. Carefully, he retraced his footsteps by stepping in the same prints he had previously left and squatted to search the dead man’s pockets. He wouldn’t leave fingerprints since his hands were encased in winter gloves.