Escape to Sampson's Quarry (A Sampson's Quarry Mystery - Book Two) Read online

  "Thanks. You too.” Bri left Nancy's office and went to her desk to shut down her computer and grab her bag. She checked to make sure she had her phone and keys before leaving the office. It was a warm afternoon and she was glad that they were able to park close by, really only a few steps from the office. The office was stationed in one of six pre-war houses that lined the street along the town square. During the last town renewal, the houses had been saved and remodeled to be turned into businesses. A small parking lot had been set right in the middle of the six houses, three houses on either side. The small parking area allowed for twenty or so parking spots reserved for the owners and employees of those businesses.

  As Bri approached her car, she looked underneath and around it for signs of any other damage. She was relieved to see there was no sign of a leak, no puddles of anything underneath the car. Feeling oddly vulnerable, she unlocked the door and got in, closing and locking the door as fast as she could.

  Bri hated that she had become so paranoid. With the damaged brake line and the phone calls, she could not afford to ignore the string of strange things that had happened since she arrived in Sampson’s Quarry. Bri had tried to reason that the damage to the brake line had been an accident or incidental wear and tear. Lucas had assured her that it wasn't possible given the way the brake line had been damaged. Lucas and the man at Galloway Auto had thought it had been too purposeful, as though someone had taken something like a small ice pick and systematically pierced holes in the rubber line.

  Bri had hoped to make a new start in Sampson’s Quarry, and in some respects, she had, but with these latest occurrences, she had started to wonder if she shouldn’t start thinking about moving again. Just thinking about it made Bri want to cry, but it was becoming clear that she was no longer safe in Sampson’s Quarry.

  Putting those worries out of her mind, Bri left the parking lot, turning to drive along the town square. She was nearly halfway home when it occurred to her that she needed to stop at the post office. About two months ago, she had decided to get a PO box after her mail started to disappear. The police had concluded that it was most likely teenagers causing problems as other residents in her neighborhood had also complained about missing mail. Even with that knowledge, she had decided to get the PO box as a precaution. It had seemed like a good way to ensure that she didn’t miss any more important mail, and the post office was right on her way home.

  She pulled into the post office to find the parking lot empty, which was not surprising as it was a little after five o'clock. The building with the post office boxes was open twenty-four hours a day, allowing the mailbox owners to retrieve their mail even though the post office itself was closed. She had often been there on her way home from work. It wasn't until she had gotten out of her car that it occurred to her that she, in fact, always picked up her mail in the evenings. Without even realizing it, she had developed a pattern. She immediately made a mental note to change that in an effort to be less predictable in her daily schedule. She could pick up her mail at lunch or if she was out running an errand for Nancy.

  The room with the mailboxes was just as empty as the parking lot. Bri appreciated the rush of cool air that blew over her when she opened the door. After how busy day it was in the office, silence and the slightly-dimmed lights felt almost as relaxing as sitting at a coffee shop.

  “All that’s missing is one of those comfy couches,” she muttered to herself. She went through her keys and had just opened her mailbox when she heard a noise from around the corner, like the sound of shuffling feet. The sound was so unexpected that she quickly looked behind her, her heart suddenly beating faster as she began to panic. She quickly pulled the mail from her mailbox out and dropped it into her bag. Anxious, she fumbled with her keys as she tried to close and lock the box, plainly hearing the shuffling sound again.

  "Calm down. It's probably nothing," she told herself and began to walk back to the door, hearing her high heels making a clacking sound on the tile floor. Bri had almost reached the door when she heard the shuffling sound again, seemingly right behind her. More frightened than she had been in a long time, she broke into a run, pushing through the door and straight into someone standing on the sidewalk. She pushed away, her screams filling the empty parking lot as she stumbled backward.

  Killian Reese reached out his hands to steady the screaming woman. "Ma'am? Ma’am, are you all right?"

  The woman pushed away from him quickly, almost violently, before she realized what she was doing. She looked up and he could see the moment that she realized that she wasn't in any danger.

  "Ma'am, are you all right?" he asked again. He looked past her into the post office. Not seeing anything immediately threatening, he turned back to her.

  "I am so sorry," she said shaking her head and taking another step back. "I just…"

  "Did something happen inside the post office?"

  The blonde woman’s eyes darted to the post office door and then she laughed nervously. "No, everything's fine. I think I just have an overactive imagination."

  Reese felt skeptical. Obviously, something had frightened this woman. "What happened that made you think that?"

  She seemed reluctant to talk, but finally said, "I was getting my mail out of my mailbox and I kept hearing a sound around the corner, like footsteps or shuffling. I don't know; like I said, it's probably just my overactive imagination."

  Killian pushed her for more information. "And you heard the sound more than once?"

  "Yes, at least three times.”

  "I'm going to go inside to check it out," he told her.

  She took a step toward him. "Oh gosh. No, you don't need to do that."

  Reese realized he had not introduced himself and pulled his wallet from his pocket, opening it so that she could see his badge and identification. "I'm Detective Reese with the Sampson’s Quarry Police Department."

  The woman smiled slightly and nodded. "Yes, I know. We've actually met."

  Reese was surprised by that, she was quite beautiful and he was fairly sure he would have remembered meeting her. "Oh? We have."

  "Yes, it was a couple weeks ago. My friend was in the hospital though so I'm sure you don't remember me."

  As soon as she mentioned the hospital, he suddenly remembered. "Oh right, the Gardner auto crash connected with the Hamilton case."

  "Right, Haley had been injured in the crash.”

  Killian had remembered speaking to them at the hospital. “How is Ms. Gardner doing now?”

  She seemed surprised by his question. “She is out of the hospital and feeling much better. Thank you for asking.”

  "Why don't you stay right here, Ms. …" his voice trailed off, not remembering her name. He looked at her, waiting for her to give him her name.

  "Caldwell, Bri Caldwell."

  "Yes, of course. Ms. Caldwell, why don't you wait right here while I check the post office?"

  "No, that's all right." She looked around nervously.

  Normally when someone looked nervous, he would think that they had something to hide, but with Ms. Caldwell, it seemed that she was more frightened than nervous. He still wanted to talk to her but wanted to make sure the post office was clear. "If you're nervous about standing out here, how about you wait in your car?"

  She looked over at her car and then nodded. “Yes, I could do that.”

  He watched until she was safely in her car and then heard the loud click of the door lock. For good measure, he waited a moment longer before giving her a thumbs-up and opening the door.

  The mailbox room of the post office was as empty, as it had seemed from his earlier vantage point on the sidewalk. As expected, the walls were lined with mailboxes of various sizes, and devoid of anything else, except for two trash cans placed in the far corners of the room and a rolling display of shipping supplies displayed near the door. Reese paused just inside the door, listening for any signs of someone being in the small building, but heard nothing but the drone of the air conditioning
cycling through the vents.

  Reese walked down one side slowly, continuing to listen intently for any sounds of footfalls coming from the other side. Reaching the back, he looked around the corner to find nothing but a low counter, presumably for people to sort their mail. He peered into each trash can as he passed by, seeing nothing suspicious. He had almost made his way around back to the foyer when he heard a strange sound. If it was the same sounds that Ms. Caldwell had heard, she had not been wrong in her description. It did sound somewhat like shuffling footsteps. Trying to follow the sound, he backtracked to the low counter and waited. It wasn’t too long before he heard the sound again, but it was less distinct from there. He walked around to the other side and waited. He was just about to give up when he heard the shuffling sound again but much more pronounced.

  “Well, it’s coming from somewhere, Reese,” he muttered.

  Puzzled, he walked back to the foyer and stared at the room, trying to deduce what he had heard and where it had come from. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the ground for a moment, waiting for the sound to come again. Impatient he looked up slightly and happened to see the bottom edge of a door. It had been well hidden behind the rolling cart and a standing sign advertising post office hours and other information. He moved the sign and cart out of the way and found the door unlocked. Even though he highly doubted that anyone could get inside and move the cart and sign back in front of the door, he remained cautious as he opened the door.

  He saw no one when he entered, and the room was so small that there was no place for anyone to hide. There was a small desk on the far wall and several boxes of what Killian could only assume was more shipping supplies for the cart in the foyer. Although relieved that he had not found anyone lurking, he was still perplexed as to the origin of the sound they had heard. As though on cue, he heard the sound again. In the corner behind the door, he found an automatic vacuum that must have been accidentally activated. It was somewhat trapped between shipping boxes and continued to move around in the small area. On one of its passes, it would go over a fallen package of shipping paper which caused the shuffling sound that both he and Ms. Caldwell had heard.

  Chuckling, he reached down and shut off the small vacuum and made a note to call Byron at the post office in the morning to let him know. Reese left the small office and replaced the sign and the cart. He walked back outside to speak with Ms. Caldwell. She was waiting in her car looking expectantly at the door when he came out. He had barely taken a step toward her car, when she waved and then pulled out of the parking spot, leaving the parking lot before he could stop her.

  Reese stared at the back of her car as she turned onto the street. He had wanted to talk to her, although he supposed it was unnecessary given what he had discovered. It didn’t really matter as he found himself somewhat concerned about Ms. Caldwell’s welfare. He had seen behavior like hers before; he only hoped he was mistaken. He made another mental note to follow up with her as well.

  3

  “Thank you, Detective Reese,” Mrs. Hutchins said.

  “You are very welcome. I wish I had more information for you but I will check back with you in a week or so.” Reese stepped out onto the front porch and handed her his card. “If you think of anything else, please call me at that number.”

  The white-haired woman looked down at the card in her hands and nodded. “I will. Thank you.”

  Reese nodded at her and said, “Have a nice day.”

  Mrs. Hutchins nodded and closed the door. Reese walked down the path to his car parked at the curb. Out of habit, he looked up and down the street; it was a normal residential street with tract housing on both sides. It was a nicer neighborhood but still had its fair share of criminal activity. Luckily for Mrs. Hutchins, it had only been her garage that had been broken into. A few tools had been stolen but nothing highly valuable, except perhaps Mrs. Hutchins's peace of mind. The robbery had taken place over two months ago, but Reese tried to stop by every other week to check on her and let her know that he was still on the case, and that he had police patrolling the neighborhood on a regular basis.

  He got into his car and looked up at her door. His visits were a little thing, but he hoped that it would help the older woman feel safer at home. It was something he had not been able to do when he was on the force in Chicago; too many cases and too little time. It was part of the reason he left the CPD. He had joined the police department because he wanted to help people. In a large city though, it just wasn’t possible to do more than take a report and hope something came up when it went through the system.

  In his six years with CPD, they had been understaffed and overworked. By the end of his fifth year, Reese had seen enough and started looking for another job. He had been a week away from taking a construction job with a cousin when his former partner had suggested the open position in Sampson’s Quarry. Reese had applied just to say that he had; it seemed like a long shot. Even so, a week later he was flying out for an interview and two days after that was looking for an apartment in the small town.

  Sampson’s Quarry wasn’t really all that small of a town but, compared to Chicago, it felt like Petticoat Junction. The Sampson’s Quarry Police Department was smaller than some, with about three hundred officers as opposed to the nearly twelve thousand on the CPD force, but it was more than adequate for the smaller population and the decreased crime rate. It allowed him the opportunity to do more to help the people of Sampson’s Quarry. Things like checking in on Mrs. Hutchins.

  He stopped at the next red light and found himself next to the post office. His immediate thoughts went to his experience with Ms. Caldwell the previous week. It had been his intention to follow up with her. He had thought of her often but hadn’t had the opportunity to track her down. When the light changed, he turned right on Harper Boulevard and pulled into the post office parking lot.

  Reese pulled out his phone and hit a button in his contacts. The phone rang twice before someone answered. “Danvers.”

  “Hey, can you look up something for me?”

  “Well, hello, to you too,” his partner replied. “What do you need to know?”

  “The Hamilton case, Brianna Caldwell was the woman that called us about Ms. Gardner not making it into town.”

  “Right, Owens was trying to kill them with his car as they drove through the mountains.”

  “Danvers,” Reese said, trying to get him back on track.

  “Oh right; he allegedly tried to kill them with his car,” he said with a snort.

  Reese tipped his head back against the headrest and counted to ten. “Danvers. Can you look up where Ms. Caldwell is employed?”

  “Oh,” Danvers said. “Sure, hang on.”

  Reese could hear the click of the keyboard as Danvers presumably pulled up the file. “Okay, it looks like she works in the office of Redmond Realty over on Lewiston Drive.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be back in the office late this afternoon.”

  “What are you talking to the Caldwell woman about?” Danvers asked.

  Reese was surprised by the question. He ended up replying with, “I simply wanted to follow up with her. I haven’t personally spoken to her since I visited Ms. Gardner in the hospital.”

  “Right. Okay, sounds good. I’ll see you later.”

  Reese didn’t even bother to say goodbye as he knew that Danvers had already hung up. It had annoyed Reese when they had first started working together, but for the most part, he had grown used to how Danvers operated.

  He realized that the realty office was on the town square--across the square diagonally from the police station. It would be very easy to stop and check on Ms. Caldwell. He turned back out onto Harper Boulevard to follow it back where it crossed over Lewiston Drive, fairly close to the town square where the realty office was located.

  It had not taken him long to find the office, parking his boring dark blue sedan on the street at one of the meters. He dropped a couple of quarters in, even though he was techn
ically there on official business. The office was situated in one of the six cottage houses that had been preserved by the historical society. He walked up the narrow pathway to the door and walked into the office. Brianna Caldwell was sitting behind a cherry-stained desk. She was talking on the phone and he stood patiently by the door. He appreciated having a moment to observe her. The anxiety that he had seen the day at the post office seemed to be gone.

  She looked up and then immediately smiled, holding up a finger to let him know she would be right with him. Reese nodded.

  “Of course,” she said into the phone. “I will give Nancy the message as soon as she arrives in the office.” She listened for a moment, straightening the sleeves on her blouse. Reese was fairly sure that it was the same color of green as her eyes. He was still debating the thought when he realized that she had hung up the phone.

  “Good afternoon, Detective Reese. What brings you to Redmond Realty?”

  To his amazement, he heard himself utter, “I am looking to buy a house.”

  “Oh,” she said blankly. Of all the things that he could have said, that was not what she had been expecting. It made total sense though, given she worked for a realtor. She stood up, trying to recover. “Well, you are in the right place.”

  He looked around the office. “It appears that way.”

  Bri glanced at the closed office door. “I’m sorry, but Nancy is not in right now. She is out showing clients some properties. If you would like, I can get some information from you and have her contact you either this afternoon or tomorrow.”

  “That isn’t necessary.” He gestured to one of the chairs on the opposite wall. “May I?”

  “Yes, of course,” she answered and then frowned, wondering if she had missed something. “Detective Reese…”

  “You can just call me Reese,” he said.

  Her curiosity got the better of her and she asked, “Reese? Not your first name?”

  “Nope,” he said after pulling the closest chair over next to Bri’s desk.