The Cold Case that Turned Hot

"There are only two people alive who lived with Victor and that's Samantha and William. Victor probably would go out of his way to hide it from William because men don't like being seen as weak. Samantha probably saw it though, and she'd have had at least some training in nursing school about how to recognize the signs. I need to find Samantha and talk to her.

"I don't believe that the day of the funeral was the last time William ever saw her either. You have a sister. Would you ever lose track of her or would she ever just go somewhere else to live and not tell you where she was going?"

"No, I wouldn't do that and she wouldn't either. We don't talk as much as we probably should, but we still do."

"Then why would William not try to find her? He goes to Chattanooga a lot. Maybe he's going to see her."

I shrugged.

"He told Harry they didn't get along very well because Victor wouldn't let him do anything but he'd let Samantha do anything she wanted. Since his dad was gone and they didn't get along, he was probably happier. The two people who kept pushing him down were both gone."

"Richard, people lie to you all the time. What if William was lying to Harry? Harry might have suspected he was, but without any way to prove he was, Harry didn't have much of a choice but to report what William told him."

I said I didn't have a way to prove one way or the other either. Rochelle frowned.

"I know that. We'd have to find Samantha. I don't know how we'd do that since I can't force William to tell me if he knows where Samantha is. You could if the case was still open, but I don't see a way to open it again."

We finished our meal and went home, but Rochelle wasn't finished yet.

"If you re-opened the case, you could push William hard enough to make him tell you where Samantha is, couldn't you? If we can find her and make her talk, maybe she'll tell us that Victor was suicidal. If that's the case, we have the killer and the case is solved."

I nodded.

"Yes, but there are so many ifs and maybes in this theory that I'd never convince the Captain to let me reopen the case. Even if he did, I couldn't really force William to tell me anything because as far as I know, he hasn't committed any crime so I'd have no leverage.

Rochelle grinned.

"We'll just have to think of some other way then. Maybe I could follow William the next time he goes to Chattanooga and see where he goes. If he goes to a construction site, he's probably doing what he says he's doing. If he goes to a house, he's probably going to see Samantha."

I shook my head.

"It's one thing to follow somebody in the city. That's pretty easy to do. Following them down an interstate isn't. It's too easy to lose somebody in traffic and once you do, it's really hard to find them again. They could pull off an exit ramp and you'd drive right past without knowing it."

Rochelle smiled and picked something out of her purse.

"I wasn't going to try to keep up with him. I got this to do that."

Rochelle held up a black plastic box.

"It's a GPS tracker that will tell me where William is on my phone. All I have to do is stick it on his car and then drive to where my phone tells me he is."

I shook my head.

"Well, that will tell you where he is, but if we try to use that information as evidence, any judge will say it was obtained illegally and not allow it to be used in court. We'd have to get a court order to put it on his car, and that leaves us right back where we started."

Rochelle grinned again.

"Well, there has to be some other way. Until we find it..."

Rochelle stuck the GPS tracker in her bra and then grinned at me and handed me her phone.

"We can at least see if it'll work. I'll go hide and you see if you can find me."

Rochelle didn't hide very well. I found her in the bedroom on the bed with no clothes on and the GPS tracker sitting on her mound. She smiled.

"Well, it works. Now that you've found me, what are you going to with me?"

It was good that that was a Friday night and I didn't have to work on Saturday. Rochelle seemed to be in one of her "I need more" moods. I did what I could for her, meaning twice that night. I managed once more on Saturday morning, but after that I was shot.

After breakfast, we started going over what we knew to see if there was anything we'd missed. That was a frustrating task. We had a lot of information that fit several different theories, but not enough information to discount or prove any of them.

Our mail was always delivered about ten in the morning. At noon, while Rochelle fixed some lunch, I walked out to the mailbox to get it. It was mostly the usual stuff -- a couple slick paper catalogues for women's wear, one from a credit card company that promised us cash back on anything we used it for, and the monthly bill from the electric company. The last envelope was different.

The address had been printed on a printer and was addressed to Rochelle, and there was no sender's address in the upper left corner of the envelope. The postmark was from Dalton, Georgia. When I went to the kitchen, I asked Rochelle if she knew anybody in Dalton and she said she didn't think so. I handed her the envelope and said that somebody there must know her.

Rochelle went to the silverware drawer and took out a butter knife to slit open the envelope.

"I have no idea who that would be or how they got my address. The only people who have my home address are you, my Aunt Betty in Walhalla, and my agent. I've never given it to anybody else because there are a lot of people who read my books who would like to get to know me on a personal basis. I'm not even in the phone book because I've never had a landline in this house. I have business cards, but all they have is my name and the link to my bio page on my agent's Internet site."

Rochelle pulled a single sheet of paper out of the envelope, read it, and then handed it to me.

"I think we're closer to the truth than we think we are."

It wasn't a letter. It was just two short sentences printed by a printer in all capital letters.

STOP ASKING ABOUT THE ACCIDENT. IF YOU DON'T YOU WILL HAVE AN ACCIDENT TOO, JUST LIKE IN YOUR BOOKS.

I looked up at Rochelle.

"Well this solves one problem. This is a threat against you and that will let me re-open the case. Once I do that, I can use every tool I have to figure out what's going on. Until then, you need to stay home, stay inside and away from the windows, and keep the doors locked."

Rochelle shook her head.

"I've come this far and we seem to be getting close, so I'm not going to stop just because of this. I can take care of myself if I have to."

I'd figured Rochelle was going to say something like that, but she needed to face the reality I knew.

"Look, Rochelle, this may be just a bluff to stop you from looking into the accident, but whoever wrote this knows who you are and where we live and wants to keep you from finding out more about what happened. I can't think of anybody who would want you to stop except the real killer. That means the killer wasn't Victor and that they're still alive and they might not be bluffing. The last thing I want is for something to happen to you.

"If I'm working the case, I can't take you with me, so I can't protect you. If I'm protecting you, I can't work the case. The only option I see is for you to do what I said -- stay home and keep the doors locked. That's what I'd tell any person who'd been threatened. I know you want to keep helping, but the best way to help me right now is to not do anything that will put you in danger."

"I can still make phone calls and use the Internet, can't I?"

"Yes and there's another thing you can do. The person who sent that letter somehow found out your home address. Even if you've never had a landline or given your name to anybody except who you said, at some point, The County Clerk will have a record of when the house transferred to you. There are at least a dozen people finder sites on the Internet that would have that information as well as anything on your driver's license. It would cost somebody to get that information, but not so much as to keep a determined person from finding you.

"What you can do is make sure our security system is recording the road in front, your drive, and back of your house. Those are the ways a person would try to get in because they could drive or walk to the doors there without looking too unusual. You need to keep the windows locked though, just in case. We'll look at the video every night and see if we have anything that looks abnormal. If there is, that's the person I'll be looking for first."

"Also, keep your car in the garage with the door down. That way, they won't know if you're home or not. If they think you're not home, they'll probably just go away and try again. If they think you're home...well, it depends upon how much they want you to stop."

On Sunday, I made sure the video cameras on the security system were all working and that the recorder was recording. Then I checked the door locks on the front and back door and all the window locks to make sure they were working. I thought about giving Rochelle my backup gun, a Sig P-380, but she'd never shot a gun that I knew of and there wasn't time to teach her what she'd need to know. It didn't seem like I was doing enough, but it was about all I could do.

On Monday morning, I was waiting at my desk when the Captain came into the room. I got up, told him we needed to talk, and then followed him into his office and closed the door behind me.

He sat there listening while I explained the case and the theories Rochelle had. I could tell he wasn't really listening until I showed him the letter. He looked at it, then looked up at me.

"You think this is a real threat?"

"Yes, I do. I didn't believe much of Rochelle's theories until she got this. When I add the letter to what Harry told me and what his reports and the coroner's reports said, I don't think that was an accident. I think it was a double murder that was covered up well enough Harry couldn't prove otherwise.

"What I think now is that the murderer somehow learned about Rochelle asking questions about the accident and is afraid of being found out. I've solved murders committed for less of a reason, much less, so I think this person is serious.

"The only way to prove what really happened is to reopen the case. That's what I want to do -- reopen the case so I can talk to the son, William. The only people Rochelle has talked to are William's wife and William's mother so it's probably William who sent the letter. The only way to know that is to bring him in and talk to him until he tells the truth and I'm satisfied that he isn't lying.

"The other thing I want to do is put out an APB on Samantha McCabe so I can talk to her. Rochelle thinks William knows where she is. Unless the case is open, I can't threaten William until he tells me. One way or the other, I need to talk to Samantha to compare her story with William's and to what both of them told Harry."

"Both had a motive for killing Victor. William told Harry that Victor kept him on a short leash but let Samantha do whatever she wanted to do. That might have made William decide to kill Victor and since Victor and Rhonda were together that night, he might have killed her to avoid being caught. According to Harry's report, William didn't seem to like his mother all that much.

"I'm really suspicious about the fact that Samantha left Knoxville the day after the cremation. Her motive is the insurance policy Victor left with her as the sole beneficiary. She had no reason to leave unless she had some part in this. From what she told Harry, I don't think she cared much for either her mother or her father. She was more interested in getting their bodies cremated than in mourning their deaths.

"William seems to go to Chattanooga at least once a month so my bet is she's in Chattanooga. The letter was postmarked in Dalton, Georgia, but that's just across the state line from Chattanooga. Maybe she lives in Chattanooga and drove to Georgia to mail it, or maybe William just tells his wife he's going to Chattanooga but really goes to Dalton.

The Captain leaned back in his chair and put his fingertips together.

"I like your theory, but you don't have much real evidence to support it other than Rochelle's opinion."

"Yes, that's true, but I've worked cases before with less evidence."

"How long do you think you'll need?"

I figured he'd ask that so I had an answer.

"Probably a couple days to find William and talk to him and get his DNA. His DNA will confirm that he isn't Victor's son. Another day or two to find the daughter if he tells me where she is, maybe a week if he won't and she's in Georgia. I think maybe three weeks should tell me what I need to know to either charge somebody with murder or decide it was just an accident."

The Captain nodded.

"After hearing what you just told me and knowing how you've solved a couple other cold cases, I'm willing to believe you're on to something. I'll give you two weeks to show me some evidence that makes it likely you've figured it out, and I'll try to steer current cases to the other detectives, but you might still have to work one. Need anything else from me?"

I called Rochelle and told her the Captain had let me reopen the case. She was happy about that but still aggravated that she couldn't do anything. It was then I realized we had two other ways to find Samantha.

"Rochelle, Harry did a search of all the registered nurses in Tennessee looking for Samantha, but he didn't find her. That might be because she'd just gotten her degree. I don't know if there was a national nurse's registration or not back then and Harry's report didn't mention one, but there is now. Why don't you see if you can find a registered nurse named Samantha McCabe in Tennessee or Georgia. Since the letter was postmarked from Dalton, she might be there. She might have changed her last name if she got married, but I doubt she changed her first name, so you might have to look for a lot of Samantha's before you find her. She got her degree from UT, and the registration will say that."

The first thing I wanted to do was to get William's phone records. That was easy enough to do. I just went to a judge, explained the situation and asked him to issue a warrant for the phone records of William McCabe for each of the major phone companies in Knoxville.

I didn't think William had a land line because most people don't anymore, but I also didn't know his cell phone service. I phoned all the cell phone and landline companies in the Knoxville area, identified myself, and told them I was faxing the warrants to them. I wanted to know who and when William had called when he was supposedly in Chattanooga fixing equipment.

If I had that information, he'd eventually have to tell me why he'd made those calls. Even if he wouldn't, each of those different numbers and another warrant would also get me the names and billing addresses of the people he'd called. If one of those names was Samantha McCabe, I had the sister. Then I'd be able to drive down to Chattanooga or wherever she was and talk to her.

It was four by the time I got the warrants, made the calls, and faxed the warrants. I didn't have much else I could do, so I signed out and went home. When I got there, Rochelle had done what I asked her to do. I had to use my key to get in the front door.

I expected to see Rochelle either in the living room or in the kitchen but she wasn't and that worried me. As quietly as I could, I checked our bedroom, our bathroom, and the spare bedroom on the first floor. When those rooms proved to be empty, I started to panic, something I hadn't done in a long time.

I pulled the Sig from the holster at my waist and started up the stairs. I was half way up when I heard a groan coming from the bedroom Rochelle uses as her office. That sound made me think the worst, so I flicked the safety on the Sig off "SAFE" and then went up the rest of the way and then to Rochelle's office. The door was open just a crack so there was no sound when I slammed it open the rest of the way until it hit the door stop.

As the door was opening, I yelled, "Police. Don't move", and stepped into the room and quickly looked from one wall to the other. What I saw was Rochelle sitting at her desk with a pistol in her hand. She was chuckling.

"So, in my novels, the bad guy always shoots first, but neither of us is a bad guy so what happens now?"

I put the Sig back to "SAFE" and then holstered it again. Rochelle put her pistol down on her desk.

"Rochelle, you scared the hell out of me when you weren't downstairs and then I heard you groan. I figured somebody had you up here and was doing something to you. You're lucky I didn't shoot you."

Rochelle grinned.

"I groaned because I started my novel and I didn't like what I'd written, and I wasn't lucky. I know how you guys train. Even if somebody had me up here, you'd have told him to stop what he was doing and step away from me. It's you that was lucky. When I heard that fourth step from the top squeak like it always does, I figured someone had gotten inside the house. I was going to shoot them if they tried to do anything to me. It was when you slammed the door open that I figured it was probably you. I've never read about a murderer who does something like that. They're always pretty sneaky."

I walked over to her desk and looked at the pistol. It was a Sig P380, the same pistol I wear on my ankle as a backup gun, except mine is all black. Rochelle's had a pink slide and pink pearlescent grips.

"So, when did you get a pistol and were you going to tell me about it someday?"

Rochelle grinned sheepishly.

"I kind of like how you always want to protect me, so I didn't tell you. As for when I got it, I was writing my first novel and the murderer used a pistol to kill the victim. I was typing along when I realized I couldn't write about how he did it because I'd never shot a gun before.

"I went down to a gun store and saw this one in the case. I thought it was pretty so I bought it. Then I took some classes at their indoor range so I'd know how to shoot it and what shooting it felt like. Turned out I'm a pretty good shot. At least that's what the instructor told me.

"He asked if I was going to get a carry permit and I said I'd think about it. After I did, I didn't think it was likely anyone would try to do anything to me and I wasn't sure I could shoot another person anyway. I just locked it in my desk so I'd know where it is. After getting that letter, I decided I might not have a choice. That's why I got it out and made sure it was loaded. When I heard the stair creak, I got it out and pointed it at the door. I'd decided to shoot whoever it was if I had to. Now that you know I can defend myself, can I keep working on the case?"

I shook my head.

"I don't yet know how much danger you're really in and I can't risk anything happening to you. You can still help, but you'll have to do it from here."

I chuckled then.

"If you don't stay here, I'll have to take you downtown and lock you in a cell to keep you safe until I figure this out."

Rochelle grinned back at me.

"Men in prison get to have conjugal visits. Would you come and conjugal visit me? I think after I tell you what I found out today, I'm going to want to be conjugal visited at least once."

"I think I could manage that. So, what did you find out?"

Rochelle picked up a piece of paper from her desk.

"I didn't find any registered nurses in Tennessee named Samantha McCabe. I found eight nurses named Samantha and two with the last name of McCabe, but none with both names. Like you said, she might have gotten married and changed her last name, so I went to three social media sites I've used before. Usually, women who've changed their last name because of marriage will use their birth last name as a middle name so people can find them.