Pretty Broken Dolls by Jennifer Chase

Chapter Thirty-Six

Thursday 1410 hours

Katie was quiet at the lunch break with McGaven. They had stopped at her favorite burger place before visiting the First Community Bank of Pine Valley where Darla Winchell worked, but she was preoccupied with the email message and being in Darla’s home. It was as if she were connected to her, and the other victims, due to the military K9 link. She wondered if she was too close to the cases to be completely objective. She had skimmed through Darla’s personal letters, but there wasn’t anything that stood out or was connected to her time in K9—most were just letters from an old boyfriend. She would have McGaven take a look at them back at the office.

“Are you going to eat your fries?” asked McGaven.

“What? Oh, go for it.” Her appetite wasn’t what it usually was when she was working on a case.

“I know that I’m not one of your gal pals but if you have something on your mind, you know you can trust me.” He looked at Katie with a sincere expression.

Katie knew how lucky she was to have a great partner—they had been through so much together and she knew she could trust him. But sometimes she just had to let herself work through things in her own time. “I’m fine, really. I appreciate the concern.”

“Is it Chad?”

Katie couldn’t lie. “Yes, but… we'll just have to see."

“I know the cases are difficult, but we are moving nearer to a closure.” He dipped another French fry into catsup. “It always feels like this in the middle of wading through everything—trying to figure out what’s pertinent and what isn’t. It’s the game we play.”

“It’s true.”

McGaven looked at his watch. “We should probably head over to the bank.”

* * *

The First Community Bank of Pine Valley was a medium-sized bank located in the main part of town and was a popular place for most of the local residents. Darla Winchell had worked for them for six years, working her way up from a teller to an executive, handling business accounts.

Katie and McGaven entered the bank and hovered around the entrance trying to figure out where to go to meet with the president. The security guard immediately spotted them and made his way over to greet them. Katie opened her jacket to reveal her badge. He made a waving gesture with his hand, indicating he understood, and went back to his post.

Katie saw the various desks behind partitions and walked over to ask if she could meet with Michael Raines, the president of the branch. A young woman wearing a burgundy dress went to alert Mr. Raines that two police detectives wanted to talk with him.

They didn’t have to wait long. A serious-looking, dark-haired man wearing glasses and a dark suit with a red tie headed toward them. He moved with purpose and projected an all-business attitude.

“Hello, I’m Michael Raines, the president of the bank.”

“I’m Detective Scott and this is Deputy McGaven.”

“Pleased to meet you both,” he said and shook their hands. “Let’s talk in my office.”

They followed him through an area where there were four desks. The employees looked at Katie and McGaven with some interest, but mostly concern.

The big corner office was where they were headed. It was sparsely decorated, with a large desk, comfortable leather chair, and two smaller chairs for customers to sit down.

As soon as they were seated, Katie began.

“Mr. Raines, thank you for seeing us on such short notice.”

“You said it had to do with Darla Winchell.”

Katie shifted in her chair, knowing she would not only have to break the news of a death, but of a brutal murder. “Yes. I’m sorry to inform you that Ms. Winchell is dead.”

He sucked in a gasp. “What?” he whispered. “Dead? But you are detectives so that means… she was murdered?”

“Yes, that’s correct.” There was never an easy way to break the news. It always sounded harsher than it needed to be under such trying situations. “I am so sorry to have to share such horrible news about one of your employees.”

“Oh my… how?”

“We’re not able to discuss any details at the moment,” she said. “It’s an active investigation.”

“Of course. What can I do to help?” he said, obviously upset. His mind was clearly reeling from the news.

“We would like to ask a few questions about Darla. If that’s okay.”

“Of course. I’ll try to answer if I can.” He looked back and forth from Katie to McGaven and then settled on Katie.

“How would you characterize Darla’s work here?”

“She was what every employer dreams of. I mean that. She was one of those employees that always wanted to learn more, strive more, and move up whenever she could.” He paused a moment to gather his thoughts, as if it had really sunk in that she was dead. “Whenever there were classes— whether it was better ways to work with co-workers or new computer systems in dealing with business accounts—she was the first to sign up.”

“Did she ever confide in you that something was bothering her at work? Like another employee or a customer?”

“No, never. But I’m not the best person to ask, being her boss. Some of the other employees would be better suited to answer that question.” He leaned back in his oversized chair. “I know that she was close with Daniel Harper; he’s in charge of new accounts and investments.”

“Is he here today?” asked McGaven.

“Yes.”

“Just a couple more questions and then we’d like to speak with him, too,” said Katie.

As Mr. Raines waited, he tapped his right index finger on the arm of the chair.

Katie thought he was holding something back. She was curious and suddenly remembered what John had said about the killer receiving an injury to the right index finger. “Mr. Raines, can you show us your hands?”

He looked confused, but slowly moved his hands forward with his fingers and palms facing upwards for Katie and McGaven to see. There was no indication of any injuries.

“Thank you,” she said, changing tack quickly to hide her disappointment. “Did you ever have to reprimand Darla for anything?”

The president appeared to think about it. “No, I don’t think so. She is… was one of my best employees… and I still can’t believe she’s gone.”

“I would suggest informing your employees so that they don’t hear it from some other source. Please give them time to grieve and whatever support they need. Everyone is different.” Katie made sure that the president understood.

“Yes. We have a company that helps with crisis situations and I will have them be available to anyone that needs it.”

Katie felt relief wash over her. “That’s wonderful. Would it be possible to speak with Daniel Harper?”

“Uh, yes. Please stay. I’ll bring him in and you can use my office.”

The president left the office and Katie waited until the door was closed and he was out of view.

“What do you think?” she said in a low tone.

“He’s genuinely shocked. We’ve seen it many times, but did I detect some deception?”

“I caught that too. He was too nervous, but that could have something to do with things going on in his own life—not with Darla.”

“True. There’s a high percentage of nervousness among people who interact with police.”

“Daniel Harper,” she said. “I didn’t see any photos in the apartment or her parents’ home with him. Is that odd? Or maybe she didn’t want to be reminded of him.”

“We’ll just see what he has to say.”

The president returned with a man in his early thirties, dark wavy hair, suit and tie without the jacket. His eyes were wide and he was obviously confused about why he was being ushered to the president’s office to talk to police.

“Detectives? This is Daniel Harper.” He held the door for the man. “Nice meeting you both.” He shut the door and disappeared again.

“I’m Detective Scott and this is Deputy McGaven. Please have a seat.”

He sat hesitantly in the president’s chair, looking uncomfortable. “What’s this all about?” he said in a quiet voice.

“I’m sorry. This is always difficult,” she said. “I’m sorry to tell you that Darla Winchell is dead.”

“What? Dead? How? When?” His voice became an octave higher as his eyes darted from one detective to the other.

“She was found murdered.”

“Murdered… what… what happened? Did you catch the person?”

“The case is currently under investigation so we are not able to give you details, but we wanted to get some background information from you. Is that okay? You up to it?”

“Uh, yes, of course. I… can’t believe she’s gone.” His eyes welled up with tears, but he was holding them back.

“What was your relationship with Darla?”

“We were friends and co-workers.”

“Did you date?” asked Katie, watching him closely.

“Well… yes, technically, we did.”

“What does ‘technically’ mean?” said McGaven.

“When we first met about six years ago, we flirted a lot and we went out a few times.”

“And?”

“And we felt we are better as good friends,” he said, not making eye contact.

Katie leaned forward. “Mr. Harper, I can see you have feelings for her. Anyone can see that you have feelings for her.”

“So? It’s not a crime.”

“I take it that Darla was the one suggesting that the two of you be just friends.”

“Yes.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“What do you mean? I was upset but I got over it. You don’t think I…”

“Mr. Harper, we’re trying to piece together her life and timeline before the murder to figure out who might have wanted to harm her.”

“I can’t imagine…” He couldn’t finish his sentence.

McGaven shifted in his chair, moving it closer to the man. “Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt Darla? Someone she had trouble with?”

“No. I can’t think of anyone. She is… was… a great person and everyone loved her.”

“Did she ever confide in you about something or someone that was bothering her?”

Daniel Harper thought for a moment. “No, I can’t think of anything. That’s what makes this so incredibly heartbreaking.”

“Mr. Harper, here’s my card.” She handed him a business card. “If you think of anything—

anything at all that might help us—please call me.”

He took the card and put it in his top pocket. “Of course.” He stood up.

Daniel Harper? D.H.

“Oh, just a couple more things. Could I see your hands, please?” He held them out before him, mystified. There was no injury to be seen. “Thank you. And did you ever send Darla emails?”

“Sure.”

“Did you ever sign them ‘DH’?”

He thought about the question and shrugged. “I don’t think so. Sometimes if I sent her a quick message, I might just sign it‘D’. I don’t remember.”

“Okay. Thank you, Mr. Harper. We appreciate your time.”

He rose and then quickly left the office.

McGaven looked at her.

“I just had to ask.”

“You think he’s the one who sent that email?”

“No. But we have to run down all the leads.”

“I’ll run background of the employees to see if anything pops up.”

“But, Gav, it is a coincidence. Someone who was close to Darla but wanted to be more just good friends, whose initials just happen to match up to our emailer?”

“I see your point.”

You know what you did. You can’t take it back. The finale is coming.