he told her he’d call her before picking her up that evening. From the diner he headed straight to the place where Jolene Tate had been murdered.
Officer Patrick Carter’s patrol car was parked next to the corner where bright yellow crime-scene tape marked off the area where Jolene’s body had been found.
Patrick got out of his car to greet Flint. “I’ve been sitting on the scene all night, and Officer McGlowen is at the house that Jolene has rented for the past month as it appears the confrontation between her and Hank started there.”
Flint nodded as he focused on the body form displayed on the ground and the markers that noted potential evidence that had already been collected. Jolene hadn’t had a stellar reputation in town, but nobody deserved to die the way she had. He gave himself a moment to grieve the dead and then looked around once again.
His team had done a good job, as he’d trusted them to do while he’d dealt with Nina the night before. “The coroner report should be on your desk sometime this morning, but the cause of death was definitely strangulation by rope,” Patrick said.
“That’s exactly what Nina described. I’m going to check out the house. I’ll be right back,” he said to Patrick. Flint headed up Cherry Street where two houses from the corner Jolene Tate had lived alone for the past month in a small bungalow.
Officer Dana McGlowen sat on the front porch and stood at his approach, her brown eyes looking like a puppy dog eager to please. She was a relatively new hire but had already shown herself to be highly motivated to do a good job. She had quickly become a valued member of the team.
“Have you been here all night?” Flint asked.
“Yes, sir,” Dana replied. “The crime scene boys were here last night and collected some things but intend to be back here this morning. They didn’t want to do too much before you had a chance to check things out.”
She stepped aside so he could enter the small living room. “It looks like a fight started in the kitchen, and then Jolene managed to run out of the front door in an attempt to get away. The front door was standing wide-open when we arrived last night to check it out.”
Normally, Flint would have been at both scenes immediately, overseeing the evidence gathering and leading his team, but Nina’s arrival at the station had forced him to allow his men to do their jobs without him. He could have assigned another officer to sit on Nina, and he had to admit that his desire not to had been strictly emotionally-driven. He’d simply felt he was the best man to stay with her.
He followed Dana into the kitchen, where it was obvious some sort of brawl had taken place. A kitchen chair lay on its back near the table, and broken glass littered the floor. A half-empty bottle of cheap wine sat in the center of the table, with a single glass. Flint suspected the other glass was what crunched beneath his feet.
“Any sign of forced entry?” he asked.
“None.”
“Then she must have invited him in,” Flint said thoughtfully. “If it was Bittard, then why in the hell would she let him inside? Why wouldn’t she call for help?”
“They were lovers before he got arrested. Women do stupid things when they’re in love,” Dana said as if she’d had personal experience in the matter. “He was probably trying to talk her out of testifying against him, making promises to her that she wanted to believe. Maybe he was trying to talk her into going on the run with him, and as soon as the quarantine was lifted, they could get out of town and be together with a fresh start.”
Flint shook his head. “She saw Hank kill Donny Gilmore in cold blood. What could Hank possibly say that would make her change her mind about testifying? Make her even think about hiding out or going on the run with him?”
“Apparently, from the looks of the way things went down, he didn’t get her to change her mind. Something went wrong. Jolene tried to escape, but he caught up with her and made sure she wouldn’t be a threat to him.”
“This is just what we need with everything else that’s going on in town,” Flint replied in frustration. “Is somebody relieving you here?”
“Mike Harriman should be here within the next hour or so,” she replied.
“When he gets here, go home and get some sleep. I have a feeling we’re all going to be putting in plenty of long hours until we get Bittard under arrest again.”
Flint left the house, his head swirling with everything that needed to be done as far as this particular case. He needed to start at the beginning, reinterview all of Bittard’s low-life friends and check out the old haunts where he used to hang.
He had to be getting help from somebody to stay hidden in a town with no exit, and Flint was determined to arrest anyone who was aiding and abetting him.
Approaching his car, his gaze fell on the place where Jolene Tate had breathed her last breath. For just a moment, his mind cast him back in time and instead of Jolene Tate, he saw an older woman with blond hair sprawled on the ground after having been shot in the head.
Madelaine Vasso had witnessed a gang shooting, and unlike so many, she had been determined to put some of the thugs away. It had been Flint’s job to keep her safe until she got to the courthouse to testify. They had been walking up the courthouse steps and had nearly reached the front door when a single bullet had pierced her head and instantly killed her.
His utter failure to protect her and the depth of his grief and guilt had eventually made him leave the Cheyenne Police Department and return home, back here to Dead River.
He shook his head to dislodge the memory of Madelaine and instead was punished by a vision of another woman’s body lying on the ground, her wavy auburn hair like a lush blanket beneath her head.
Nina.
His heart crashed, and he drew a deep breath, knowing he needed to keep it together. He would not have another failure like Madelaine. He refused for Nina to suffer the same fate as Jolene Tate.
Somehow, someway, he had to find Bittard and neutralize him before he got to Nina and before the quarantine was lifted and a killer ran free.
Nina stood at the front door of the diner, waiting for Flint to pick her up. The talk of the day had been Jolene’s murder and the house fire at Nina’s. While most of the conversations had been sober, at least it had taken the thought of the Dead River virus out of everyone’s head for a short period of time.
Business had been a little better today than in the past couple of weeks as people ambled in to get a bite to eat and soak up the latest gossip. She had been touched by the concern she’d received from customers and her staff. But she knew the uptick in business wouldn’t last. By the time all the gossipmongers got their fill, they’d disappear back into their own isolation.
There was no question in her mind that her business had taken a hit because of the disease that kept the town quarantined. It broke her heart to see people shunning each other as fear of catching the virus guided their decisions and movements.
She hoped the big Thanksgiving Day feast she’d planned in less than three weeks would bring people out of their homes and give them
