Page 34 of Murder in the Lighthouse

“We should’ve heard something by now,” Lucien announced when they finally reached home. “This waiting is ridiculous. We can’t afford to sit here and do nothing.”

“What do you suggest? We walk into the Santa Cruz PD and accuse them of having a connection to a string of murders that occurred in 1999. Or maybe ask if anyone there has left online clues about Jill Vosberg’s murder.”

“Very funny.”

“Don’t you think Jade and Birk have been monitoring each thread? If Birk had discovered anything new about the poster or Keith Shepherd, he’d have reached out by now. He did say that it might take him a while to pinpoint the IP address. Practice a little patience, will you?”

Lucien dumped their bags in his office and unpacked his laptop. “Keith Shepherd is our primary suspect. I don’t think he’d be dropping hints online, especially not on forums related to solving the cold cases. The poster is playing a virtual dance with us, a game of cat and mouse. Let’s bug Birk and see if he’s come up with anything yet.”

“Why not do your own background checks on the victims? We know Bethany was interested in the Upland and Vosberg cases. But somewhere, there’s a third victim. ID that one. Put a name to it instead of waiting for Birk to get in touch. I have work to do upstairs.”

He watched her disappear down the hallway and heard her footsteps overhead on the landing.

“She has a point,” he muttered as he began to research Santa Cruz murders from 1999 with similar characteristics.

Very few murders occurred during that year. But the murders of three women stood out. In addition to the Upland murder in April and the Vosberg murder in June, there was a third that fell into the same category. In October of that same year, Cynthia Zepp had been a twenty-seven-year-old single mom who needed extra money for Christmas presents for her two boys. To cover expenses, she’d taken a second job working part-time as a night clerk at a local convenience store while her mother watched the kids. A month later, Zepp disappeared from the twenty-four-hour food mart during her shift two days before Thanksgiving. Eight days later, a utility worker found her nude body dumped by the side of a county road. She’d been strangled and stabbed.

“This has to be the third victim,” Lucien decided as his cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen to see Birk calling. “What’s up? I think I know who the third victim is.”

“Great. You figured out it was Cynthia Zepp, right?”

“You already knew that?”

“Unlike you, I’ve been working instead of traipsing off to spend the night at some fancy schmancy hotel. Did you know Jill Vosberg had a younger sister?”

“I didn’t know that.”

“See? I found out Trish Vosberg’s been a cop on the police force for twelve years, a sergeant no less, at the Sheriff’s Department. And Truthseeker22’s IP address tracks back to a house owned by her.”

“Okay, that’s impressive.” He explained how he’d left a reply to every comment made by Truthseeker22 on various blogs. “I’ve been sitting here waiting for her to post a response.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath. From what I can tell from her background, Trish is a savvy cop. She probably saw throughyour strategy upfront. Right now, she’s in wait-and-see mode, knowing you’re trying to pull her out into the open. She won’t fall for it without determining how serious you are. I suggest you contact her directly and arrange a meeting where you can lay your cards on the table.”

“Why would she agree to that? And wouldn’t she want to know how I connected her to Truthseeker22?”

“I doubt that will matter to her. Why? Because she wants more than anything else to solve her sister’s murder. That’s what all the posts are about. Believe me, she’ll want to meet you if she thinks you hold a piece of the puzzle. And she probably already has a suspect at the top of her list. Is it Keith Shepherd? Who knows? That’s why you should ask her directly. Get her to tell you what she knows.”

“You mean instead of messing around waiting for her to reply?”

“Yeah. Why do that? I’ll look into potential places to meet where Jade and I have your back, where we can watch from the wings.”

Another holding pattern, Lucien decided. Maybe Brogan was right. He could be impatient. “I’ll hold off making contact until you suggest a meeting place.”

“Jade knows all the offbeat coffee shops in the downtown area. I’ll text you a location soon.”

He heard a click in his ear, realizing Birk was done talking. “Bye to you, too,” he muttered, turning his attention back to the homicides. Upland, Vosberg, and Zepp all died by strangulation and had multiple stab wounds somewhere on their bodies. He studied the details. They all lived in close proximity to each other, with definite geographical statistics worth noting.

Deep in thought, he heard arguing coming from upstairs. Brogan seemed to be having a heated discussion with someone. Her voice reverberated off the walls. He couldn’t remember thelast time he’d heard her so angry. Even the dogs tilted their heads to listen.

Though he could only make out every other word, he got the gist of the conversation. Something about a birth mother, something about Rachel raising her. She rattled off a series of questions. How had that come to be without blood ties to the Brinell family? Had Delia known all this time? Had she been keeping secrets? Why had Rory pawned her off on strangers to raise in the first place?

Brogan kept tossing out so many questions that it became difficult for Lucien to keep up.

After Brogan demanded answers, he heard her slam the phone down and storm onto the landing. He shoved away from his desk and met her halfway on the stairs.

“You can forget about making the trip to Connecticut,” Brogan announced. “I’ll call the charter service and cancel. It’s clear to me that Cordelia Brinell Gregson has no plans to admit to the truth any time soon. She threatened to fire me as CEO, then when that didn’t get the response she wanted, she threatened to disown me, to write me out of the will. Who cares about stupid stuff like that when I was never a real part of the family in the first place? I asked her if my birth mother was still alive. Do you know what her flip answer was? She insisted that the DNA was wrong. Then proceeded to remind me that Rachel had died in a plane crash. I explained that I wasn’t demeaning the time I spent with Rachel or her, only that I wanted to know the truth. That’s when things went off the rails. Is it wrong to want to know how Rachel ended up raising me? Is it wrong to ask how that happened? Is it wrong to want to know where my dad fit into all this, other than acting as the sperm donor who occasionally visited me until Rachel died? Who told him it was time to show up and claim me as his anyway? How did he know? Where was Delia in all this subterfuge?”

“All great questions,” Lucien said as he tried to give her time to vent.

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