Pretty Broken Dolls by Jennifer Chase
Chapter Seventeen
Friday 1305 hours
After Katie and McGaven picked up a key from Daniels & Smith, Attorneys at Law, they headed to the storage facility to have a look at Jeanine Trenton’s personal belongings. Her things were being held in probate until the state could sell everything, including the house. She had no immediate family, but the probate attorneys were doing their due diligence in case there was a family member not listed.
Katie and McGaven had received permission to look through Jeanine’s belongings as part of the murder investigation, and anything they took would be factored into the probate.
As McGaven drove to the storage unit, Katie remained quiet. She was thinking about the military K9 facility and wondered what experiences Jeanine Trenton had had there as a trainer. It was clear that Sergeant Serrano had feelings for her, but there was no mention of it to her best friend. Why?
“I wonder what secrets are going to tumble out?” said McGaven.
“We’ll see.”
“Why are you so quiet? That big detective brain of yours working overtime?”
She laughed. “Something like that.”
“I bet you’re trying to figure out the killer’s motives and why they are so screwed up.”
She shifted her weight and moved her attention from the window to her partner. “It’s really difficult to stay focused on this killer when there are three previous cases.”
McGaven didn’t respond, but it was clear he knew exactly how Katie felt. His face and jaw tightened.
“This may sound strange…”
“What?”
“Somehow this case—these cases—seem personal. It’s the K9 training. It’s a part of you—probably forever.”
“I never thought about it like that—but you’re right.”
“Yeah…” He took the turn into the storage facility and stopped at the entrance to key in the code. The black gate opened wide and McGaven drove in. “Sometimes I may just surprise you.”
Katie smiled. “Every day on the job you surprise me, Gav.”
McGaven eased around several buildings until he found “E.” He parked outside and they both exited the vehicle.
“We’re looking for E121,” he said.
The entrance on the bottom floor was a plain metal door. There was a simple sign above, reading “E110–E130.”
Katie pulled the utility door open and the fluorescent ceiling lights automatically lit up as they entered. The outside door shut behind them, making a distinct suction sound. They walked down a long hallway. As they passed through, the lights extinguished, leaving darkness behind them. The temperature was quite a bit cooler than the outside air and became stifling. Since there were no windows to indicate if it was light or dark outside, it had a creepy vibe.
“I think this is it,” Katie said and pointed to a medium-sized storage unit on the left. “E121.”
McGaven retrieved the key, unlocked the padlock and pulled up the roll-up door. “There it is.”
Looking inside the locker, they sighed. There were boxes stacked from floor to ceiling and it would take a bit of time.
“Well,” Katie said. “At least they are clearly marked, so let’s find the personal items and forget the rest. We don’t need to look at the dishes, pots, and pans.”
McGaven shed his jacket and began to pull out boxes of interest. Twenty minutes later, they had only a total of ten boxes to view.
“That’s not so bad,” she said, with her hands on her hips. “I’ll take five.”
McGaven sliced open the tops of the boxes with his pocketknife.
For the next fifteen to twenty minutes, Katie and McGaven carefully emptied boxes, examined the contents, and then repacked them.
Katie felt keenly aware of the intrusion by going through Jeanine’s private things as she viewed personal letters, birthday cards, and individual pieces of jewelry. “Anything?” she said, glancing to McGaven.
“Nope.”
Katie had been through three boxes already and was just about to pull the last item from the bottom of the fourth box. It was a navy-colored journal. With no picture or lettering, it was just a plain book. When she opened it, she viewed handwriting and some simple drawings. She noticed that the last entry was a week before Jeanine was murdered. “Gav.”
He was busily repacking one of the boxes.
“Gav,” she said again.
He looked up. “What do you have?” He moved closer to see the journal.
“I’m just skimming but she was very honest and detailed when she wrote her entries.”
McGaven read over her shoulder. “Let’s bring it with us.”
“Yep.”
A couple of photos dropped from the back of the journal. Katie bent down and picked them up. They were of Jeanine during her time in the military, pictured with some of the dogs. Bright-eyed, smiling, she appeared to be loving her job. “It looks like Jeanine was very happy training dogs in the military.”
“I wonder what happened? Why didn’t she stay?”
“I don’t know. Sergeant Serrano didn’t give any indication,” she said. She slid the photos back into the journal. “See if you can find any photographs or memory disks.” She thought she should have pressed him harder.
“On it.”
Katie and McGaven searched for anything that might prove useful, but didn’t find anything other than the journal.
After returning everything to the storage space and securing the lock, they left the facility.
Katie was now behind the wheel as McGaven skimmed through Jeanine’s journal.
“Listen to this,” he said and read out loud: “‘I love working at the CHA, but I don’t know how much longer I can take the hostile environment. No matter what I do, tackling them head-on or ignoring them, it’s always the same. Lately it’s been aggressive and I’m afraid that they might try to harass me at my house.’”
“That sounds serious,” she said.
“It does,” he agreed. “And her handwriting starts out neat and then gets messier as if she was struggling to write that particular entry.”
“Interesting. I’m glad that we’re on our way to the health center now.”
“Let’s see what shakes out.”