Cold Case Cover-Up Read online

  He pushed through the front doors of the hospital as the attacker sprinted across the parking lot and ducked into the woods. Quinn stopped running, realizing he wasn’t going to catch him. The guy was too fast.

  He leaned over, resting his hands on his knees, and tried to catch his breath. He usually trained every day, even when he was home, but since the embassy attack and Tommy’s death, he hadn’t had the desire to work out and it showed today. This short sprint had taken a lot of out of him.

  He returned to the third floor, glad to see that security had been called and was busy securing the floor. He stopped one of the guards and told him who he was and about the hooded figure he’d tried to apprehend.

  “Check the security tapes. Maybe one of them got an image of his face.”

  While the guy had glanced up when Quinn shouted, the hood had masked his face and Quinn couldn’t give a better description than height and weight and color of the hoodie he was wearing.

  The guard nodded and relayed the information to his supervisor over the radio.

  Quinn walked into Dana’s room and saw her on the bed being examined by the nurses. Her eyes held a sunken look to them as if she’d been defeated. He supposed she had been, but it could have been much worse. He could have walked into this room to find her dead with her throat slashed.

  She perked up when she spotted him. “Quinn! Did you catch him?”

  He hated to wipe away the look of hope on her face. “No, he got away.” He mentally kicked himself. He should have continued training, not spent time mourning what he’d lost. What good had that done him? He was supposed to be a hero. Isn’t that what all the news channels were calling them for disobeying orders and charging into the embassy to rescue those trapped inside? But he didn’t feel like much of a hero today. “What happened?” he asked her.

  “I don’t know. I was turned away looking at my phone and the next thing I knew, he’d grabbed me. I didn’t even hear him come in. He told me I was sticking my nose where it didn’t belong and that I should pack up and leave town.”

  Another threat to give up her investigation and leave? He’d obviously been wrong in assuming no one would care she was looking into a thirty-year-old cold case. Someone apparently cared a lot. But who and why?

  Whatever it was, he was going to find out.

  “How is she?” he asked, directing this question to the nurse.

  “She landed hard on that shoulder again, but other than that, she’s going to be fine.”

  “Good.” He turned back to Dana. “I’m going downstairs to check out the security video, but I’ll be back soon.”

  He left her in the care of the nurse and walked downstairs, taking a moment to phone his brother to let the sheriff’s office know what had happened.

  “Was she hurt?” Rich asked after Quinn had explained.

  “Not seriously, but she could have been.”

  “Okay, you check out the security feeds to see if you can ID this guy and I’ll let Dad know. I’ll also watch for any suspicious sightings of a guy in a hoodie matching that height and weight. Keep me posted.”

  “I will,” Quinn assured him.

  He spoke with the head of security, showed his credentials as a reserve deputy and asked for an update. They had little to offer.

  One of the security techs pulled up the video. “We were able to capture images of this guy as he moved throughout the hospital, but none of them show his face. Even before he attacked her, he was keeping his face hidden from the cameras.”

  “He knew what he was doing,” Quinn stated. “Were you able to backtrack to look at what kind of vehicle he arrived in?”

  The tech shook his head. “No, the first image we have of him is in the parking lot.”

  Quinn hated how careful this guy was being. “Keep watching the parking lot. If he had a car, he’ll eventually have to come back for it.”

  The security tech assured Quinn he would keep watching, and Quinn walked back upstairs to check on Dana. He hated that he didn’t have better news to give her. Whoever had attacked her had once again managed to get away clean.

  He was surprised to find her dressed in her street clothes and the nurse helping her with her shoes, as if she was getting ready to leave the hospital. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m leaving. I have a meeting with Jerry Foster tonight.”

  “Who is Jerry Foster?”

  “A former writer at the West Bend Daily News. In fact, I’d confirmed I was on my way when that guy grabbed me. If I hurry, I can still make it.”

  “You can’t leave. I’m sure they need to keep you overnight.” He looked to the nurse for confirmation but she shook her head.

  “Actually, she’s free to go. I was working on her discharge papers before this happened and although her knee is bruised up, I don’t see anything that would necessitate keeping her overnight.” She touched Dana’s shoulder. “I do recommend you take it easy, though. You’ve been through something terrible with these two attacks.”

  “I will. I promise I’ll take it easy, but I must do this interview. Can you arrange a cab for me?”

  “Sure, I’ll call one for you,” the nurse agreed.

  Quinn couldn’t believe what he was hearing. They were letting her go? Didn’t they realize how dangerous that could be? He knew it wasn’t the hospital’s job to protect her, but he would feel better knowing she was safe and sound in a hospital room overnight with a deputy posted on her door.

  But that obviously wasn’t happening, which didn’t leave him with much of a choice. “That won’t be necessary,” he said. “I’ll drive you.”

  He wasn’t letting her go off on her own again, not until they found out who was threatening her and why.

  * * *

  Dana hurried through the paperwork the nurse gave her then reluctantly allowed herself to be wheeled to the front doors of the hospital in a wheelchair.

  “I don’t need this,” she insisted. “I can walk myself.” However, the nurse claimed it was hospital policy and refused to bend the rules.

  Dana was a little surprised to see Quinn waiting for her, his truck parked by the front doors and the passenger door open. But she was more surprised by his insistence on driving her to her interview with Mr. Foster. Was he so worried about her safety that he didn’t want to let her out of his sight? She didn’t know whether to be terrified or flattered by that prospect.

  She pushed herself up from the wheelchair only to fall back into it as dizziness overtook her. She hated the feeling of weakness that flowed through her and hated even more that Quinn was seeing her at her most vulnerable. She was trying hard to maintain a semblance of strength and determination, but she had to admit she was exhausted.

  “Let me help you,” he said, his strong arms suddenly around her as she stood again. She glanced up into his soft green eyes and saw compassion there. He really was a good man and she was thankful he was here for her.

  She leaned on him for support, her head woozy at the sudden loss of balance, or maybe the feel of his embrace. She was close enough to smell the musky scent of his aftershave and feel the muscles in his arms as they tightened around her. It had been too long since she’d been in a man’s arms. Not since her relationship with Jason Webber had ended six months ago. But then she’d never felt as protected in his embrace as she did right now in Quinn’s.

  “You okay?” he asked, helping her steady herself.

  She gave a brief nod. “I’m fine.” But the way her head spun had nothing to do with her mild concussion.

  His arms loosened around her, but he didn’t move away. “You sure?” She sensed his patience and protectiveness. He wouldn’t let go until she was steady.

  What was she doing getting all moony over Quinn Dawson? She was acting like a child with a crush on a man who’d swooped in and saved her life. She had to get a grip before she
made a complete fool of herself. He might seem like a good guy, and maybe he was, but she’d learned the hard way that love and family weren’t in her future. She’d been left and abandoned too many times to allow her heart to be broken again. Even God had left her years ago and if He didn’t want her, why would someone like Quinn Dawson? She wouldn’t—couldn’t—go down that road again. “I’m okay,” she assured him, then stepped up into his truck, his hand never leaving her until she was safely seated inside.

  He crawled in behind the wheel then started the truck, but tried one more time to change her mind. “Isn’t this something that can wait until tomorrow? I know you’re hot on this story, but it’s a thirty-year-old case. It will keep one more day.”

  She shook her head then grimaced at the pain that caused. “One thing I’ve learned in this business is that if someone agrees to be interviewed, it’s better not to give them the time to change their minds. Besides, someone’s trying to frighten me into giving up. I don’t want to give them time to get to Jerry Foster, too.” She wondered if Quinn was already regretting offering to drive her. If he’d been expecting an argument, he was disappointed. She was desperate and she was holding him to his proposition to drive her.

  He gave her a look that said he couldn’t believe she was being so reckless, but he put the truck into gear and took off down the road without saying a word.

  The last time they’d been alone together, she’d opened her mouth and accused his grandfather of something awful. She had to admit she was curious to know after that incident why he was helping her.

  “I’m sorry if I upset you last night. I didn’t mean to imply anything about your grandfather. I’m really just searching for the truth.”

  He nodded. “My grandfather was a good man, Dana. You didn’t know him, but he was. He loved his family, this town and he loved the Lord. He always taught me to be a man of honor.”

  She saw the love he had for his grandfather and admired it, but she also knew that people often did things that surprised those who loved them. She saw it all the time in her investigations for Newswatch. How many wives and families had ever suspected their fathers or brothers or uncles of being cold-blooded serial killers? They were always the ones surprised by the revelations when the truth came out. She’d lived it, too, in her relationship with Jason, who’d fooled her into thinking he loved her then betrayed her.

  “I know you want to believe that, but in my experience, that’s hardly ever the case.”

  “I just want to make sure that you don’t have tunnel vision in this matter. It seems like you’ve focused in on him. My family isn’t the story.”

  She remained silent on the rest of the drive. She was sorry that Quinn thought she was targeting his family, but finding out the truth about her identity and what really happened to Alicia Renfield was all that mattered to her now, not Quinn Dawson’s feelings, or anyone else’s. She was on a mission to find answers and it was one she was determined to see through.

  * * *

  “Thank you for meeting with me,” Dana said when Jerry Foster invited them both inside.

  “Glad to do it,” he said.

  “This is Quinn Dawson. He’s going to sit in, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.” He reached out to shake Quinn’s hand. “I’m familiar with your family. I don’t know your father well, but I knew your grandfather. He was a good man.”

  “Yes, he was,” Quinn responded, shaking the man’s hand and giving Dana a sideways, told-you-so glance. “Thank you for saying it.”

  Jerry shut the front door, then motioned for them to follow him into the kitchen, where he went to the coffeepot and filled three cups. “Have a seat,” he said, handing them each a mug.

  Dana took it from his hand and sat down, anxious to ask her questions before her fuzzy, concussed brain let them get away, but she’d learned from experience that it was always better to get people talking about themselves before digging into serious questions. “Tell me about the newspaper. How long did you work there?”

  “I did more than work there, miss. I owned it. It was a family business, started by my father in 1935. He passed it on to me. We had our good years and our bad ones, but it became too much when everything started going digital. I kept an online paper going for a while, but I finally gave that up a few years ago, too, and retired completely when my wife got ill, except for an occasional blog post now and then.”

  “I’m sorry about your wife. How is she?”

  “She passed away last year. Cancer. Jane and I were together for forty-three years.”

  Dana’s ears perked up at the familiar name. “Jane Shaw? I recognize her name from the byline of the articles I read. She wrote for the paper, too.”

  Jerry nodded. “Yes, she did. She was already a writer when we met in college and she kept her maiden name. She was a valuable asset to the paper. I couldn’t have kept it going all those years without her. She was smart as well as beautiful.”

  Dana was sad to hear about her passing. Jane Shaw had been on her list of people to question about the murders. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she told Jerry, and she meant it. It was obvious he’d lost his entire world in the past few years. She knew what that felt like.

  He tapped his finger on the table and locked eyes with her, his face morphing from a grieving widower to the newspaperman he’d once been. “But you didn’t come here to talk about me and my family, did you, Miss Lang? You want to know about the murders.”

  Excitement bubbled through her. This was why she’d come to town and finally she was going to have answers to her questions. She tried to keep her excitement hidden as she nodded. “Do you remember it?”

  “Every detail. My body isn’t as sharp as it used to be, but I still have my mind.”

  “What can you tell me about it?”

  “I remember the night of the fire,” he told her. “It was around eight when I heard on the police scanner about a fire out there at the Renfield place. By the time I arrived, the fire department couldn’t do much except keep it contained to the house. They didn’t want it to spread to the brush and catch the woods on fire. It was blazing hot and smoke had filled the place. Several of the firemen had tried to go inside to look for survivors but the smoke was too thick and black. They weren’t able to see anything.”

  “Diesel fuel,” Quinn stated, and Jerry nodded.

  “The family had their own gas tanks. It was once a working plantation and they still had some fields they plowed so they kept fuel on hand.”

  Dana glanced at Quinn. He was pinching the bridge of his nose and looked to be pained by the tale. How had he known that about the diesel fuel?

  “Of course, that was also a sure sign that someone had intentionally set the fire. Regular house fires don’t burn like that and the use of an accelerant indicated arson. No one had any idea where the family was, but I remember the garage door was up and both cars were inside. I figured they had to be home. It wasn’t until early the next morning that the fire died out enough for anyone to start searching. Rene’s body was found inside the house at the foot of the stairs. Some people speculated that she’d been trying to escape the fire...that is, until the coroner discovered she’d been shot.”

  “I’ve read all of your and Jane’s articles about the fire and murders. How much of what you wrote came from primary sources?”

  “We’d never had anything like this happen in West Bend before. No one knew exactly how to handle it. We spoke with the sheriff’s office often and they answered our questions. There was an understanding among everyone that the public deserved to know the details.”

  “What about Bill Mackey? Did he speak directly with you about the case?”

  He turned his gaze to Quinn, then tapped his finger. “No, he was pretty tight-lipped about it. Most of our information came from the other deputies. Today it’s common for police to keep their stories c
lose to the vest, but it wasn’t that way back then, not in West Bend. This was the first case that Sheriff Mackey became very secretive about.”

  “Did he ever give you a reason for the change?” Quinn asked.

  “No, just said the victims deserved some privacy and the investigation was ongoing. There were rumors around town that Rene was planning on leaving Paul and running off with another man, so when his body wasn’t recovered, everyone figured he’d killed her then started the fire. His parents had died in an accident a few months earlier and many of Paul’s friends refused to believe he could be responsible for killing the only family he had left. They thought he died in the fire and his body hadn’t been found yet or else burned up.”

  “Was there any evidence to back up the story about her leaving Paul?”

  “No, only rumors. People said they’d been arguing a lot lately. They didn’t know what about, but no one believed things were bad enough for him to kill her over.”

  “Why do you think the sheriff stopped talking to you?” Dana asked.

  The older man shook his head. “I think it had to do with the little girl. Jay Englin found her body a few days later in the rubble. It had to change Bill to see that. That’s my opinion. After that, I imagine he changed his mind about what the public needed to know.” He shrugged. “He never came out and said that was what it was, but I figured it had to be.”

  His reasoning seemed logical, but he didn’t know Dana suspected Jay Englin had never found the child’s body in the rubble. “And what about Jay Englin? How did finding her affect him?”

  “It shook him up good. He started drinking after that and eventually quit the fire department. He moved out of state a few years later. Last I heard, he was living in Memphis selling insurance.”

  She knew that pulling a dead child from a burned home would have to do unspeakable things to someone’s emotions. Yet, had that really been the reason for their changes in attitude? If Dana was right, he hadn’t really done that, so it shouldn’t have affected him that way. But something had shaken him based on Jerry’s account of his change in behavior. What had he really seen that night? Something that suggested the baby was in too much danger to let anyone believe she was alive? Dana carefully broached her next question. “Did someone besides Jay Englin and Bill Mackey ever see the child’s body?”