Evan died. We were sitting on her couch. I had my arm around her, comforting her, and before we knew it clothes were flying off. She wept afterward, and I felt like a shit. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I also thought about her question: Would you trade it all for a woman or a family? I’d like to think I wouldn’t be with anyone who’d ask me to.
Chapter 6
DAY TWO
I t was like the media vans had procreated overnight, doubling in number. I again took the back security entrance and headed straight to the Investigations office. Ralph was already at his cluttered desk.
“Morning. Get your interviews in?” he asked.
“Naomi Moberg, Harvey Kling, and Gus Taylor. The Petersons weren’t answering doors or phones.”
“Don’t blame ’em—they just lost their boy, and I’m sure the media is bugging them. Well, we better head to the meeting.”
“Do I have time to try the Petersons again and see if I can talk to them today?”
“Sure, I’ll be in the conference room.”
Mrs. Peterson answered and agreed to an interview at their home at 1:00.
Ralph and Leslie Rouch were in the conference room, both paging through notes. Jack Whitman entered and tossed two plastic bags of cake doughnuts on the table.
“Dixie sent these,” he said.
Georgia, Jack’s secretary, was right behind him wheeling in a cart with two coffee carafes and a pitcher of water, and cups. She was a pleasant woman in her fifties with pure white hair she said turned by age forty when her daughter turned fifteen.
“Thanks, Georgia, you’re a peach,” Jack said—as he always did. She gave him a tiny smile.
“Do you need me anymore, Sheriff?” she asked.
“Nope, you can go.”
Georgia nodded. “All right then. We have a choir rehearsal this morning—we’re having a special prayer service tonight for Ted and Ronny. They were both members of St. Stephens, you know. Such a sad time for everyone.”
“That it is. Thanks for coming in this morning. See you Monday,” said Jack.
Then he turned to us. “Austin Spanney called me last night. Said dozens of people broke through the tape at Emmaline—singing, holding candles. He wanted to know what he should do.”
“What did you tell him?” Ralph said.
“Let them be as long as they were peaceful. Figured BRO had what they needed.”
Ralph continued. “Hopefully. Anyway, let’s get started. I spoke with Kohler’s in-laws, Hamilton and Ruth Fairchild. The last time they saw Ted was on Sunday for dinner. He acted like himself and never mentioned any problems. They couldn’t think of anyone who would want to harm a well-liked and respected man such as Ted. Ham mentioned all the community service and charities he contributed to.” Ralph paged through his notes. “And they were at mass Friday morning when the shootings occurred.”
“What time was mass?” I asked.
Ralph checked his notes. “Eight o’clock. I confirmed their attendance with Father Moran.”
“Maybe they went to establish the alibi,” Leslie said.
I think I just heard Jack say “Bullshit” under his breath. Leslie either didn’t hear or was too classy to respond.
“Leslie, I understand you found something of interest in Kohler’s truck,” Ralph said.
“Yes, in the glove box. Here are copies of the Bible verse I found. We’re going to try and pull prints and DNA from it.”
“Did you ever locate Ronny’s phone?” I asked.
Leslie paged through her notes. “No. It wasn’t at his home. Kohler had his on him. We did a quick check and no calls were made or received that morning.”
Ralph wrote in his small notebook. “Has your doc looked at Ronny yet?”
“He retrieved the bullet from the spine but that’s all. He’ll perform one autopsy at a time.”
“What did you find out, Cal?” Ralph asked.
I gave a summary of my three interviews.
Ralph said, “So, now we have to reconstruct what may have happened. Anyone have any thoughts?”
“Either one victim was an intended
Chapter 6
DAY TWO
I t was like the media vans had procreated overnight, doubling in number. I again took the back security entrance and headed straight to the Investigations office. Ralph was already at his cluttered desk.
“Morning. Get your interviews in?” he asked.
“Naomi Moberg, Harvey Kling, and Gus Taylor. The Petersons weren’t answering doors or phones.”
“Don’t blame ’em—they just lost their boy, and I’m sure the media is bugging them. Well, we better head to the meeting.”
“Do I have time to try the Petersons again and see if I can talk to them today?”
“Sure, I’ll be in the conference room.”
Mrs. Peterson answered and agreed to an interview at their home at 1:00.
Ralph and Leslie Rouch were in the conference room, both paging through notes. Jack Whitman entered and tossed two plastic bags of cake doughnuts on the table.
“Dixie sent these,” he said.
Georgia, Jack’s secretary, was right behind him wheeling in a cart with two coffee carafes and a pitcher of water, and cups. She was a pleasant woman in her fifties with pure white hair she said turned by age forty when her daughter turned fifteen.
“Thanks, Georgia, you’re a peach,” Jack said—as he always did. She gave him a tiny smile.
“Do you need me anymore, Sheriff?” she asked.
“Nope, you can go.”
Georgia nodded. “All right then. We have a choir rehearsal this morning—we’re having a special prayer service tonight for Ted and Ronny. They were both members of St. Stephens, you know. Such a sad time for everyone.”
“That it is. Thanks for coming in this morning. See you Monday,” said Jack.
Then he turned to us. “Austin Spanney called me last night. Said dozens of people broke through the tape at Emmaline—singing, holding candles. He wanted to know what he should do.”
“What did you tell him?” Ralph said.
“Let them be as long as they were peaceful. Figured BRO had what they needed.”
Ralph continued. “Hopefully. Anyway, let’s get started. I spoke with Kohler’s in-laws, Hamilton and Ruth Fairchild. The last time they saw Ted was on Sunday for dinner. He acted like himself and never mentioned any problems. They couldn’t think of anyone who would want to harm a well-liked and respected man such as Ted. Ham mentioned all the community service and charities he contributed to.” Ralph paged through his notes. “And they were at mass Friday morning when the shootings occurred.”
“What time was mass?” I asked.
Ralph checked his notes. “Eight o’clock. I confirmed their attendance with Father Moran.”
“Maybe they went to establish the alibi,” Leslie said.
I think I just heard Jack say “Bullshit” under his breath. Leslie either didn’t hear or was too classy to respond.
“Leslie, I understand you found something of interest in Kohler’s truck,” Ralph said.
“Yes, in the glove box. Here are copies of the Bible verse I found. We’re going to try and pull prints and DNA from it.”
“Did you ever locate Ronny’s phone?” I asked.
Leslie paged through her notes. “No. It wasn’t at his home. Kohler had his on him. We did a quick check and no calls were made or received that morning.”
Ralph wrote in his small notebook. “Has your doc looked at Ronny yet?”
“He retrieved the bullet from the spine but that’s all. He’ll perform one autopsy at a time.”
“What did you find out, Cal?” Ralph asked.
I gave a summary of my three interviews.
Ralph said, “So, now we have to reconstruct what may have happened. Anyone have any thoughts?”
“Either one victim was an intended
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