Pretty Broken Dolls by Jennifer Chase

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Tuesday 1055 hours

Katie was tired since she had only slept for three hours, but it was important to continue their investigation on Jeanine Trenton’s murder until reports arrived from the Jane Doe homicide. She knew that they would overlap in many ways and waited patiently until more information became available.

Katie spent fifteen minutes talking with Virginia Rodriguez from the Community Health Alliance, the first chance since the distraught man with a gun overshadowed the interview. The woman was difficult to talk to, but was truthful about the friction on the job, as she called it, between her and Jeanine, and admitted to bullying her in the past.

She hung up the phone and sighed.

“Anything?” he asked.

“No, but she was at least honest in answering my questions. Virginia Rodriguez is an unlikely suspect, but we’ll keep her on the board just in case.”

Katie pointed to a padded envelope on her desk. “Right, shall we see what this is?”

“I was waiting for you to open it,” said McGaven with a curious expression.

Katie opened the envelope from the army K9 training facility in Sacramento. She pulled out two flash drives with USB plugs and a handwritten letter.

Detective Scott, please find a few videos from K9 training that I hope will help in your investigations. The sound isn’t the best—I apologize for that. These were the only video documentation I could find of Jeanine Trenton, but there were others in which recruits washed out. I thought that would be of interest to you. If I come across anything else, I will send it on. It was a pleasure meeting you. Kindest Regards, Sergeant Anthony Serrano

“Interesting.”

“What?” she said.

‘“It was a pleasure meeting you’…” he repeated.

“Give it a rest, Gav.”

“I’m just saying. He was extremely impressed by your K9 training abilities.”

“And Cisco,” she added. “Here, plug these into your laptop so we can check them out.” She handed him the flash drives.

McGaven took the drives and inserted them. After a few moments, a window opened with ten video images.

Katie rolled her chair closer to McGaven.

He clicked on the first video icon. “Here we go.”

There were muffled voices, which Katie assumed was Sergeant Serrano giving instructions. Standing at the front of the group was Jeanine Trenton; she had a regal German shepherd sitting at her left side. There was a group of recruits watching, but it was difficult, if not impossible, to see the identities of the soldiers as the view was of the backs of their heads. There were a couple of women, based on their ponytail or braid down the back. Jeanine was showing basic obedience, and Katie assumed this session would have been the very beginning, or orientation for the training course. Jeanine was cheerful and energetic as she moved through the exercises. She definitely was a good dog handler and clearly loved it.

“We can’t see much,” said McGaven.

“Maybe not, but we can see Jeanine Trenton alive and happy.”

“True.”

“And she definitely loved working with the dogs. That’s why I can’t figure out why she quit and why she never talked about it much.” Katie watched the other videos.

There was nothing out of the ordinary until they reached the second to last video. It appeared that Jeanine was arguing with one of the recruits and she was angry. Her words were difficult to make out but she said something like, “You shouldn’t be anywhere near animals and don’t know anything about the gift of bonding with dogs.” But the person she was speaking with had their back to the camera. It was clear that it was a woman and there was a man next to her.

“Wow, now there’s a different side to Jeanine Trenton,” said McGaven. “A little out of line.”

“Not really,” said Katie. “You don’t know the army. It can be a tough pill to swallow if you’re not used to criticism. It can be fierce. But I think Jeanine was being passionate and maybe this person wasn’t at all cut out for being a dog handler.”

McGaven rewound the video a few times. “I can’t see who she’s talking to or the person next to them.”

“I know. Not very useful.” Katie was a bit disappointed, but not defeated. There was always something to learn from every clue.

Katie and McGaven watched the videos again.

After the last video, Katie said, “I think I’m going to send an email to Sergeant Serrano and ask if he could identify these recruits, since he sent videos and all.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

Katie quickly sent an email from her cell phone.

She studied the murder board. “So what do we have on Jeanine Trenton’s journal? Anything worth mentioning?”

McGaven flipped through his notebook. “Nothing more than about her work nightmare and harassment. I’ve read most of it, skimming through really mundane stuff. She did mention about the neighbor, Mrs. Caldwell— apparently, she was accusing her of having too many people at her house. She thought the neighbor was weird.”

“And?”

“And she mainly talked about day-to-day struggles and if she was going to too many parties. And…”

“Nothing jumped out? Nothing about her K9 training time and how much she loved it?”

“Nope.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate.” Discouragement was beginning to set in. The journal had seemed promising at the storage facility, and now it seemed it was just about boring day-to-day occurrences.

McGaven turned his attention to the board and then back to Katie. “So, assuming that Campbell is right, and the last three are copycat killings, what is the killer’s motive? What stands out the most?”

Katie stood up. “Well,” she said. “Let’s recap what we have so far: we have our killer staging the victims, meaning they want to cause a scene, mock the police, put the vic in view of the public. Basically, making them pay for something that happened to them.”

“They took something away…”

“Good point,” she said. “It’s about control, revenge, and possibly abuse. I still can’t get what Sergeant Serrano said out of my mind: ‘graduate or wash out’. Could that be what this…” She gestured to everything they had. “What all of this is about? Just a ticked-off person that washed out of military K9 training? It can’t be that easy.”

“No, but it’s central to these cases,” he said. “And…”

Katie turned to him curiously. “And what?”

“Well, I didn’t think I needed to state the obvious.”

“Meaning?”

“The K9 connection is central, but it brings it back to you. Someone was warning you with those shots at the park training. There was no evidence left behind, but the person carefully fired shots near you.”

“What? To warn me? For me to get off the case?”

“No, that you’re going to be the next ex-military K9 handler victim. They are giving you fair warning.”

“Don’t you think that’s reaching?” It had occurred to Katie too, but she pushed it aside. Why would anyone want to hurt her?

“Maybe. But what if I’m not reaching?”

“Thanks for your concern, but I can take care of myself.” She saw McGaven’s expression become clouded and troubled. “Gav, I’ll be careful—just in case.”

He nodded.

Katie and McGaven spent more time going over notes and lists, and made a few phone calls.

* * *

Katie was anxious, her eyes weary, and she wanted to get out into some fresh air to keep moving and recharge her energy levels. She turned to McGaven who had stopped typing on the keyboard and seemed to have closed his eyes for a moment.

“Okay, that’s it.”

“What?” he said, startled.

“It’s Tuesday.”

“So, that doesn’t really mean anything when working a homicide?”

“This has been a really tiresome week already. And I’m declaring…”

McGaven waited for what she would say.

“Coffee, lots of good coffee and some food too—maybe even junk food.” She stood up, slipping on her jacket. “You coming?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He stood up, stretching his back.

“Grab the Trenton file with the interview with the neighbor—Mrs. Caldwell. Let’s go pay her a visit.”

“Yep, will do. It’s shaping up to be a great day now we’re getting coffee and a road trip!”

* * *

After a quick stop for coffee and bagels with everything on top, Katie felt much better and wanted to get her mind straight about the Trenton and Jane Doe case.

She took a sharp turn too fast, but straightened out the sedan, and sped down the road heading to Raven Woods once again.

“Where’s the fire?” asked McGaven, as he was reading the interview of the neighbor. He balanced his coffee and paperwork impressively on his lap.

“There’s a fire somewhere right now—I guarantee it.”

“Maybe, but I would like to make it to Mrs. Caldwell’s house alive.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I’ve driven a Humvee in the desert under heavy artillery fire.”

“Not a lot of twisty roads, ravines, and oncoming traffic there,” he said and couldn’t help but snicker.

“I didn’t crash an army vehicle and I’m not going to crash a police sedan.”

Changing the subject, McGaven said, “There was a page in here that was misfiled. Missing from her interview. Here, it’s page twelve and thirteen is missing. It could be a misfile from copying everything.” He continued to sort through the pages making sure they were in order.

“Anything interesting?” Katie sipped her coffee.

“Very.”

“Really?” She let her foot off the accelerator and took the next two turns with less speed.

“Mrs. Sadie Caldwell, fifty-five years old, widow, retired correctional officer from Federal Correctional Institution in Lompoc, California. She was caught selling items to inmates including but not limited to, cigarettes, aspirin, mouthwash, arthritis cream, and model airplane kits.”

“Model airplanes?”

“I said it was interesting.”

“She sounded like the local pharmacy until…”

“It seems that Mrs. Caldwell was helping certain inmates with creative implements that could be made into weapons—not to mention the glue-sniffing thing.”

“Was she fired?” said Katie.

“No, she was given the opportunity to quit and take her pension immediately or go to jail for three years. She retired.”

“Smart.”

“Agent Campbell and his team ran a police report on her and it was clean until after she retired. Apparently, she began harassing her neighbors, acting paranoid, saying weird things, and she secured her home like she was protecting a palace of gold. Her threats to Jeanine Trenton began escalating.”

“Are you making this up?”

McGaven laughed. “Nope, not even a little.”

“So I’m assuming that you want to take point on this interview.”

“Ah, that’s a negative.”

“Why? You have a way with the ladies.”

“Not this one. She has an eighth-degree black belt and has been known to get into fights when she worked at the prison.”

“Dr. Dean said that someone with martial arts skills could hit or kick hard enough to damage or stop the heart,” she said.

“That is true. Still want to talk to her?”

Katie thought about it. “When did her husband pass away?”

“Six years ago. He was a bail bondsman.”

“Interesting couple.”

Katie drove past the “Welcome to Raven Woods” sign.

“She’s out of my league as an interviewee,” said Katie. “She probably wouldn’t like me to be in charge and would take direction a little bit easier from you.”

“How about we just wait and see after we meet her?”

Katie turned down Fox Hunt Road again, noticing that the road was mostly deserted and how dark it felt, as trees blocked much of the daylight. It was quiet. She found it difficult to believe that no one had heard or seen anything unusual, according to the reports.

“Deal,” she said.

The overcast day made it even drearier than the previous visit. Katie immediately recalled their brush with gas suffocation and it made her arms prickle.

Could it have been Mrs. Caldwell who tampered with the gas?

Pulling up to the house next door to the boarded-up home of Jeanine Trenton, Katie parked. Neither of them spoke for almost two minutes.

“You ready?” McGaven said.

“Let’s see what Mrs. Caldwell has to say.”

Katie got out followed by McGaven and they studied the brown house, which had heavy white shutters and darkened windows and looked well taken care of and tidy. Katie wondered if they were specialized windows to maintain more privacy. There wasn’t much landscaping, but some bushes across the front. No pots of flowers. No fruit trees. No ground cover. No doormat. Just minimal and natural.

Katie walked up to the porch and glanced up, seeing a video camera lens. She wondered if Mrs. Caldwell was watching them at that moment, so she shifted her jacket to show her badge and gun.

McGaven waited next to his partner.

Katie knocked three times then stepped back. She noticed that there was a pair of yellow gardening shoes sitting next to the stairs. They had a significant amount of mud and brush from the outdoors.

A static radio sounded, coming from a small speaker. Then a woman’s voice said, “State your business.”

“Pine Valley Sheriff’s Department. We want to speak with you for a moment.”

“About what?” The voice was curt and made the cheap speaker crackle.

“Mrs. Caldwell?” said Katie.

There was a pause.

“Mrs. Caldwell?” she said again.

“Yes.”

“Can you come out here to speak with us?”

“I can’t see your badges. State your names.”

Katie sighed and kept her patience in check. “I’m Detective Katie Scott and this is my partner, Deputy Sean McGaven.”

“What do you want to talk to me about?”

“Your neighbor, Jeanine Trenton.”

“She’s dead and gone.”

“We have a few questions. Can you come out here to speak with us?” Katie was losing patience as the woman’s voice grated on her.

“I don’t have to speak with you.”

Katie decided to go another route to try to make her open the door—just a bit of deception and pretext. She glanced at McGaven who kept his best poker face. The street was still unnaturally quiet—no cars; no people walking; no dogs barking; no birds chirping; no wind blowing through the trees—just idly stagnant.

“Mrs. Caldwell, the word around Lompoc is that you were selling drugs and stealing profits for yourself.”

They waited.

The front door unlocked. It sounded as if three heavy locks disengaged. The door slowly opened a crack as a woman’s eye stared out at them. Her short grayish hair was cut in a pixie style with bangs. “That’s a lie.”

“Just repeating what we heard.”

“It’s a blatant lie.”

“We don’t believe in gossip, only in facts. Can we talk to you?” Katie tried to soften her voice and appeal to her as one law officer to another.

“I don’t have to.”

“We know that, but we’re trying to solve a homicide. Any help would be greatly appreciated.”

She opened the door wider as her eyes darted back and forth from Katie to McGaven. “Does the big guy talk?”

Katie laughed. “Sometimes.”

“We just want to ask a few questions about your previous neighbor,” said McGaven. “We won’t take up much of your time.”

“Here’s my card,” said Katie.

“Hmmm,” she said, taking the card and still eying them suspiciously. She opted to open the door wide and stepped out onto the porch, but slammed the door behind her. Her focus rested on McGaven. “You know, my late husband was tall like you.” She seemed to like McGaven and ignored Katie as she stepped further outside.

Mrs. Caldwell was dressed in a running outfit, navy blue, and ill-fitting around her middle. She was heavyset but moved her body much more gracefully than her stocky frame would suggest. It was clear that she’d had some type of advanced physical training.

“Mrs. Caldwell—” Katie began.

“How tall are you? Six foot six?” she asked McGaven.

“And a half,” he said, smiling.

“What do you want to know about that hussy?” Her demeanor relaxed as she focused on McGaven.

“Do you remember anything from the night she was murdered?”

“No.”

“Anything suspicious or unusual from the days leading up to the murder?”

“Like what?”

“People visiting. A strange car parked on the street or sounds of arguing from the house.”

“I didn’t hear anything. It was quiet, for once.”

“What about you?”

Mrs. Caldwell took several steps toward the street, expecting McGaven to follow.

Katie kept her distance. She noticed a bamboo pole about three feet long lying on the ground next to the house and thought back to what Dr. Dean had said about the injury on Jeanine’s chest.

“What about me?”

“Well, I heard that you speak your mind a lot around here.”

The neighbor laughed. “That’s a nice way of saying it.” She turned to Katie. “He has a nice way about him.”

Katie forced a smile and nodded in agreement. She watched Mrs. Caldwell’s arms moving constantly, twitchy, her fists clenched, as she anxiously moved slowly around in the front yard. She wore a simple gold band on her left ring finger and when she wasn’t fidgeting, she spun the ring between her thumb and forefinger of her right hand. There was a slight bulge in her pant pocket that matched an outline of a medicine prescription bottle. It was possible that she could be taking something for anxiety, depression, or even a form of schizophrenia—her erratic behavior began to make sense.

“Mrs. Caldwell—”

“Sadie,” she corrected McGaven.

“Sadie,” he said. “What was bothering you about your neighbor?”

“It was those parties.”

“What kind of parties?”

“I don’t know. People would drive up and meet at her house, and then about half an hour later, they would leave.”

“Did that bother you?”

“Not at first. But then the parties got louder and they would be out back making more noise. It’s just not right.”

“Did you call the police?” he asked, knowing that she had from police records he had searched.

“Of course. I obey the law.”

“Of course you do.”

“They just needed to be taken care of…”

Her words hung in the air.

Taken care of…

“You know, right and wrong. The Lord’s wrath.”

“And you’re sure that you didn’t hear or see anything that night?”

“Nope. Wish I did, though.”

“Why?”

“Then that would have meant all the bad voices would have finally stopped.”