Page 37 of The Lost Heiress
Sergeant Wallis had an intimidating presence, even sitting down. He was a tall husk of a man, broad shouldered and big boned. He had a voice to match, low and deep and rumbling.
“You see this?” he asked, setting the morning paper down on his desk. It was the front page of theSan Luis Obispo Herald. Detective Church didn’t have to look to know what it said. He’d read it this morning, and not just in theHeraldbut in theWashington PostandUSA Todayand theNational Enquirer, the headlines getting more and more brazen and salacious as the credibility of the paper declined:Cold Case Heats Up: Second Body Discovered in Saoirse Towers CaseandTowers Case Becomes a Double Homicide: How Many More Skeletons Is the Senator Hiding?And Church’s least favorite:S.L.O.(W) County Sheriff’s Office Misses Not Just One Body, But Two.
“I saw,” Church said.
The press conference the other day and the announcement that a second, unidentified body had been found on the Towers property had ignited even more public interest in the case and, consequently, more ire in the direction of the San Luis Obispo County Sheriff’s Office. In Church’s opinion, the whole department looked like a bunch of Barney Fifes. Not only had they misclassified Saoirse Towers as a missing person for over four decades, but her body had been found at the very locationfrom which she had gone missing. And now there wasn’t just one body that had been missed, but two.
Sergeant Wallis leaned back in his chair.
“Listen, I’m bringing Detective Leland in on this one,” he said.
For a moment, Church thought he had misheard him. “Leland?” Church said.
Sergeant Wallis nodded.
Church was used to—and very much preferred—working alone. There were seven officers in the Major Crimes Unit, but the Cold Case Unit, where Church worked, was only him. There was nothing Church enjoyed more than the solitude of his own desk and an afternoon spent sifting through an old, dusty case file.
“With all due respect, Sarge, Leland’s never worked a case this old,” Church said. “He won’t know what he’s doing. He’ll just get in the way.”
“Saoirse Towers is still your case,” Sergeant Wallis assured him. “But I’ve got two bodies now. I need two detectives. Detective Leland will be focused on ID’ing this Jane or John Doe. He’ll stay out of your hair.”
Church was silent a moment. “Tell me this isn’t because of the Riley case,” he said.
Sergeant Wallis shifted in his chair. “Listen, this is a big case,” Wallis said, and it wasn’t lost on Church how Wallis had sidestepped his question. “There are a lot of eyes on this. I want you to have a second set of hands. You don’t have to like it, but you do have to accept it.”
There was a knock on Sergeant Wallis’s office door, and the department secretary, Judy, ducked her head in.
“I have the DA on line two for you,” she said. “Looks like they’re moving up the court date for Dean Williams.”
Judy smiled at Detective Church when she saw him, mouthed a friendly hello, and Church gave her a nod.
“Put him through,” Wallis said.
“Will do,” Judy said, ducking back out.
Wallis fixed Church with a hard stare. “Do we understand each other?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Church said. “Understood.”
As Wallis reached for the handset on his desk, Church stood and headed for the door. He was halfway through it when Wallis called his name.
Church paused, turned back around. “Sir?”
“Take Leland with you to Santa Barbara,” Wallis said. “Whatever BFS has to say, Leland should be there too.”
The Bureau of Forensic Services was a state-run crime laboratory located in Goleta, about an hour and a half south of San Luis Obispo and just east of UC Santa Barbara. Church had been there many times. The lab assisted local law enforcement agencies with forensic testing and analysis. Their accreditations and state-of-the-art facilities far surpassed the small crime laboratory at the San Luis Obispo County Sheriff’s Office, which was better equipped to run blood samples in DUI cases than to conduct a forensic analysis of bones.
As Church and Leland waited in the lab, Leland eyed the two cups of coffee that Church held.
“One of those for me?” Leland asked.
“No,” Church said but offered no further explanation.
They had driven down separately. They could have driven down together, but Church had purposely scheduled an interview directly after with Teddy Mountbatten, Saoirse’s ex-boyfriend, who resided in Los Angeles now, so as to make carpooling impossible. Church didn’t like the idea of being trapped side by side in a car with Detective Leland for a whole hour and a half, both ways. In truth, he didn’t know Leland that well. Leland was one of the newer detectives in the Major Crimes Unit, and Church never went out of his way to get to know anyone, preferring instead to keep to himself. Leland was young, still—late twenties. As far as Church had been able to form an impression, Leland reminded him of a golden retriever—friendly, eager to please,and not the sharpest tool in the shed. Church suspected Leland had been promoted to detective only because he was the sheriff’s nephew, and he had probably been assigned to this case for the very same reason.
“This is so much better than the morgue,” Leland said, looking around at the bones assembled neatly on stainless steel tables.
“How so?” Church asked.
