CHAPTER 10
Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the officer parking lot of the Wolf Hollow police station. The station is located in what is commonly referred to as “Old Town”, which is the section of Wolf Hollow that is nestled in the crook of the elbow that is where the Merritt River to the north meets the Atlantic Ocean to the east. When Wolf Hollow was first founded back in 1749, the settlers began building here, where they had easy access to the open sea, as well as being able to control the mouth of the river. Over the next two hundred and seventy-four years, the settlement gradually expanded outward, reaching the foothills to the west and the marshy wetlands to the south.
Parking my car, I stepped out and approached the station. The building from the outside looked imposing, mortared grey-stone blocks rising four stories, with actual ramparts atop. Back in colonial America, when it was built, the ramparts had cannons mounted that were intended to defend the mouth of the Merritt. Though they were never used, the rusted relics still stand watch today, gazing out over Old Town, a reminder to the history of the city that it has become.
Opening the modern-day glass doors, I walk up to the duty officer stationed behind the entrance desk.
“Morning Turk.” I say, pushing my plastic bag forward. Turk, whose given name is Tarkan, which apparently means “he who is bold and strong”, is a rather large, bald-headed man with bushy black eyebrows, a jutting forehead, and a square jaw. In short, probably not someone that you don’t want to mess with in, well, anywhere.
“Morning Detective,” he replied “what do we have here?” he asked, motioning towards the bag with the cigarette butt.
“Cigarette butt I picked up this morning. I want to have the lab run it for DNA.” I replied.
Turk made a note in his log, assigned it an evidence ID number, and handed it back to me. “The Newton thing this morning?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I replied. “Possible person-of-interest.”
“Heard about it. Sounds like a sick son-of-a-bitch” Turk says, shaking his head. “She was your case a while back too, right? A stabbing? Same day that Anders-“
“Yeah,” I replied, cutting him off and grabbing my evidence bag back. “same day.” I pushed through the turnstile that allowed me access to the rest of the department.
My first stop was the lab to drop off the evidence bag. Given the relatively small size of Wolf Hollow, anything related to DNA was sent out to Wilmington for analysis. Chanelle, the lab tech, registered my evidence, and promised to send it off to Wilmington today, with results back hopefully within two to three days.
My next stop was the one that I was least looking forward to. Leaving the lab, I hit the elevator and punched the button for the second floor, where the detectives, as well as the Chief of Police, resided.
When the doors opened, I was looking down a short hallway. The building itself is a small footprint, which is why it is four floors high. The original builders wanted a high vantage point for their cannons as their primary focus, which is why the station is the tallest building in Wolf Hollow. In present day, the first floor is primarily entrance and lobby, lab, interrogation rooms, and holding cells. The second floor is for officers, detectives, and personnel. Third floor is for filing, storage, and the police armory. The fourth floor is largely unused, with old, rusted filing cabinets, broken tables other detritus from years past.
Stepping out of the elevator onto worn carpeting, I proceeded down the hall to the end, where Barnes’ office was. On the way, I passed the detectives’ door on the right, and the officers’ door on the left. Quickly peering into the detectives’ room, I was hoping to catch a glimpse of my new partner. Seeing only two people, who I identified as Cabot Riley and Ashlynn Sears, the other two detectives in Wolf Hollow, I continued on to Barnes’ office.
I knocked on the door that had “Police Chief” boldly stenciled on its glass pane and was rewarded with a gruff “Enter”.
Opening the door, I stepped into Barnes’ office. The left wall was filled with books, ranging from law tomes to Mark Twain. The back wall was stone with paneled windows, with Barnes’ large, stained oak desk sitting in front. To the right was his trophy wall with framed degrees, pictures with local politicians, and community awards from his previous home of Raleigh. Two empty red-leather chairs sat in front of his desk, and to the right, underneath his trophies, was a small oval glass cocktail table with three more stuffed chairs. Sitting in one chair was Addison Barnes III, and sitting in the other was a slim, long-haired redhead, which I could only assume was my soon-to-be new partner.
“Harper!” Addison boomed as he arose and turned to face me. “Glad you’re here!”. Addison Barnes III was a large, black man, whose father and grandfather were both former successful Police Chiefs in Raleigh. Addison took over his father’s reins right before the COVID outbreak, but was unable to match his father’s record. After COVID released it’s hold, and the populace began to emerge from its shell, Barnes had difficulty in maintaining order. Possibly due to a reduced police force, apathetic training during the pandemic, or a lack of strong leadership, Barnes’ tenure was marred by increased crime rates and high turnover. Rather than face an uncertain re-election in big-city Raleigh, he opted to transfer to Wolf Hollow, where our Police Chief of twenty-three years, Pete Torrence, had recently decided to retire. Now, three months in, Addison was still somewhat of an unknown quantity as he settled himself in to his new position.
“I was just starting to fill Medora in on the Newton case, and the events of last night.” He continued. “Harper,” he nodded towards the redhead, “meet your new partner, Medora Dunning.
Medora rose and turned to meet me. Upon first glance, I was guessing Medora was in her early to mid-thirties. She was tall, around five foot eight, with an athletic build. Attractive, not in a cover-girl sort of way, but sneaky good-looking, where the more you see her, the more you notice. Her hair was a deep auburn color, pulled straight back in a ponytail. The eyes that rose to meet mine were a smoky gray with a sharp, intelligent spark, beneath pencil eyebrows, and soft freckles that stretched across a pert nose. She was dressed sensibly in a flannel burgundy shirt tucked into jeans, short leather boots, and sporting her new detective’s badge clipped to her belt.
“Good morning, Detective Jones, nice to meet you.” Medora said in a modulated voice with a trace of a southern accent as she reached out a hand with clipped fingernails and a thin, gold bracelet clasping her wrist.
I reached out to shake her hand, and was pleasantly surprised at her strong, firm grip. “Detective Dunning, a pleasure to meet you, and you can call me Harper” I returned.
“And you can just call me Medora,” she replied with a slight laugh, “and you can also drop the “Detective”. I don’t think I’ve earned it yet”.
“Detective Medora is from my jurisdiction in Raleigh.” Addison explained. “She passed her detective’s exam last month, and had the good sense to follow me here to Wolf Hollow”, he continued, with a short laugh.
Medora joined in laughing, “Of course Addison,” she replied, laying a hand briefly on his beefy arm, “you were the perfect boss in Raleigh! I’m just so glad that there was an opportunity for a detective here in Wolf Hollow!”.
Addison? Feeling slightly nauseous, I tried to get the introductions back on track. “Well Medora,” I began, “welcome to Wolf Hollow. Let’s head to the bullpen where I can show you your desk and get you up to speed on this morning. Chief,” I nodded at Barnes, “I’ll keep you posted. Medora, if you want to follow me.” I turned back towards the door.
Barnes seemed somewhat nonplussed at my abruptness but recovered quickly. “Of course, Detective Jones,” he replied, more formally now. “Please do. That nonsense this morning will hit the news soon I’m sure.”
Oh, you have no idea, I thought, as I held the door for Medora. “Chief.” I nodded to Barnes as I closed his door.
Turning, I began escorting my new partner down the hall towards the detectives’ pen. “So, you and the Chief got along well in Raleigh, huh?” I ventured.
“Oh please,” Medora replied casting me a sideways glance, “I can’t stand the fat lecher. He’s just easier to manipulate when I’m on his good side.”
Some detective you are Jones. “Nice act then” I replied. And note to file on Ms. Dunning for future reference. “How long did you work under him in Raleigh?”
A quick dagger of a glance to see if I was suggesting a double meaning. “Just around six months. I had transferred up from Austin, Texas, and then had the opportunity to take the exam” she replied, referring to the detective’s exam.
That explains the accent, I thought, as I slowed, and showed her the door to the detectives’ room.
The detectives’ room, or the bullpen, as it was affectionately called, was about twenty feet square, with worn gray carpet and walls of flaking light yellow paint. Two metal desks faced each other on the opposite walls to the left and right of door, with a large scarred wooden table that we called the war table in the middle. Bright morning sunlight streamed through dirty panel windows on the opposite wall, illuminating strewn papers, two coffee cups, and an open box of donuts spread out on the war table.
The two desks to the right were occupied. Sitting at one was a tall, older man with bushy white hair and a handlebar mustache. He was dressed in a collared blue button down shirt, dark slacks, and a pair of worn loafers. He had a phone nestled in the crook of his bony shoulder as he was typing on the keyboard of his computer.
Sitting at the other desk was a short stocky woman with her gray-blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun. She was dressed in a black shirt under a knitted sweater, jeans, and sneakers. She was chewing the end of a pencil as she gazed at her computer monitor thoughtfully.
As Medora entered the room ahead of me, the female detective raised her eyes, and looked at Medora appraisingly.
“Detectives Riley Cabot and Ashlynn Sears,” I announced, “meet Detective Medora Dunning. Just transferred from Raleigh.”
Medora gave a smile, “Nice to meet you both. Glad to be here!”
Ashlynn, still chewing on the eraser and never taking her gaze from Medora, said “Welcome.” Riley, without taking his eyes from his screen, waved his hand briefly as he continued to talk on the phone.
Slightly disconcerted, Medora turned to me. “Warm and fuzzy.” She said under her breath, as her eyes wandered towards the donuts.
“They were very tight with your predecessor,” I explained. “We all were. Give em some time. And stay away from those donuts if you value your colon,” as I tracked her gaze. “We’re over here.” I indicated the empty desks.
Sitting in my worn wooden chair, I leaned back as Medora settled in across from me. Looking up, she asked, “So, Chief Barnes was beginning to fill me in on what you were up to this morning. Care to fill in the blanks?”
Looking across to where Anders had sat for the better part of twenty years, a brief numbness overtook me as my brain flashed back to that night six months ago. Mentally shaking myself, I brought my gaze up to the curious gray eyes across from me, and gave her a brief rundown of what happened with Alison and Anders, and then the events of last night.
During my recitation, Medora never broke eye contact, listening silently until I concluded with the events of this morning, and my bagging of the cigarette stub.
When I finished, Medora leaned back, thought for a second, and said, “Well, Occam would say that last night was just a random sicko, with no ulterior motive other than to get his jollies.”
I looked over at her. “I don’t think Occam had necrophiliac molestation in mind when he was referring to the simplest solution. Just doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Oh I agree.” She replied. “This is just too macabre to be just random. Have you had a chance to run a search through the NCDB?” The NCDB was the National Crim Database, where detectives could access all recorded crimes across the United States, and by using filters, keywords, and parameters, narrow a search down to specifics in an attempt to find patterns.
“Not yet.” I replied. “Why don’t you get started on that so we can eliminate the random option, and I’ll go pull the Newton file from six months ago. We’re going to go over that night again, find what we missed.” I rose from my chair.
“You’re getting the Kaplan file too?” She asked quietly, looking up at me. Even though the Alison and Anders murders happened within hours of each other, Chief Torrence had opened two separate investigations, which to this day, even though they appeared obviously intertwined, I believe Pete did it so that I could still be involved. Given that Anders was my partner, there was no way Pete could assign his case to me, but by separating the cases, I could work Alison’s case and still be close to the Kaplan murder.
“Yeah.” I replied gruffly. “We’ll have to talk with Riley and Ashlynn later, they handled the Anders case.” I turned and headed for the door.
“Detective?” I half-turned and raised an eyebrow.
Medora was looking at me, and nodded towards her computer monitor. “The computer is asking for Anders’ password.”
Dammit. “Isolda2013. His wife’s name and the year they were married.” I replied. “We’ll have to get tech to change that for you.”
Dormant feelings of anger and frustration over Anders’ death began to bubble anew, as I turned back and stalked through the door, heading for Records Storage.
In my gut, I was certain that this wasn’t a random attack last night. And somehow, Anders’ murder had something to do with it. And I’ll find out. I thought grimly. This time, I’ll find out.
ns 15.158.61.5da2
