The Coroner, page 3
“Emily?”
“What? Oh. Yeth. Yeth, yeth, yeth!”
“Was that a ‘yes’?” Brandon pulled the ring from between her lips.
“Yes, I will marry you!”
“Thank you,” said Brandon as he slid the ring onto Emily’s finger.
“Oh my gosh, it’s amazing! This is amazing! I love you.”
“Surprised, then?”
“Completely. Feel my pulse,” said Emily.
“I’d rather do this.” Brandon leaned in to kiss her. Emily’s phone buzzed again from her purse. She ignored it as the kiss lingered. Finally, Brandon let up and said quietly, “I love you, Emily Hartford. Secrets and all.”
“I love you too.” She leaned in for another kiss. She held up her hand and, out of the corner of her eye, admired her ring in disbelief.
“Does your family know about this?”
“My mom helped me pick the ring.” Of course, she did. His mom would want to make sure her son’s fiancée’s ring was the talk of her country club crowd.
“You both did a great job. I love it. I love you.”
Emily’s phone buzzed again as a voicemail dinged.
“You sure you don’t wanna check that? Cathy seems pretty persistent to wish you a happy birthday.” Brandon released Emily from their embrace. Emily dug for her phone.
“It’s not Cathy this time. It’s a Freeport number. But I don’t recognize it. I can deal with that later,” she said as she started to slide the phone into her pocket. A text pinged back at her, and Emily drew the phone back out to check it again.
Em, this is Jo. Pls call me ASAP.
“Who’s Jo?” asked Brandon.
This was weird. “We were best friends growing up.”
“Another friend I’ve never heard about. File this away in the secret life of Emily Hartford. You’re very popular today.”
“We haven’t spoken to each other since I left Freeport.” She looked at Brandon, who was raising his eyebrow in suspicion.
“That’s odd.”
Which part? Emily wondered. The part where they hadn’t spoken to each other in twelve years or the part where she was calling today of all days? She dialed into the voicemail and pressed “Speaker” so Brandon could listen.
Jo’s voice filled the room. “Emily? This is Jo. I’m calling from Freeport Memorial Hospital. I’m an ER nurse here. I’m calling because … well, your dad … had a heart attack. Please call me.”
The voicemail clicked off. Shock and disbelief surged through Emily as the cupcake dropped from her grip.
5
Evening was closing in as Freeport County Sheriff Nick Larson sat in his cruiser, mulling over the strange events of the past twelve hours. Most of his days were filled with long stretches of patrolling dotted with somewhat minor offenses like truancies, thefts, or domestic assault. But this day had begun with the mysterious death of Julie Dobson, a high school senior, local equestrian hopeful, and daughter of a state senator.
Within minutes of being called, Nick arrived at Premiere horse stables, the only equine center in the county. It sat on the outskirts of Freeport, about six miles from the city limits. The entire operation—barn, stables, training ring, performance ring, office building, and pasture—spanned a couple hundred acres.
Nick viewed Julie’s body on the stretcher where the EMTs had laid her. It had looked like an accident, but he couldn’t be sure because a farmer had discovered Julie’s body and transported her from the scene to Premiere’s stables. When the EMTs got to the stables, they tried routine resuscitation maneuvers on Julie. After a few minutes, they pronounced her dead at 7:56 AM.
Julie couldn’t have been gone for more than an hour because rigor mortis had not yet started in her extremities. Over his years in law enforcement, Nick had worked with Dr. Hartford, the county medical examiner, many times and learned the stages of decomposition. Just by observing the front side of Julie’s body, she didn’t seem to have any exterior wounds. Of course, he wasn’t by law allowed to touch her body, so he couldn’t be sure what he might find on her back side. He’d have to wait for the medical examiner to turn her over.
Nick then took the dirt two-track from the barn out to the field, where the farmer told the EMTs that he’d found Julie lying face down in a small crick that ran across the northwest corner of the training fields, far out of sight of the Premiere’s barns. Probably a good twenty-minute trot by horse from the stables. The form of her body was molded in the mud along the bank, and little puddles of water had formed pools where her head and legs had impressed into the ground. This disturbed Nick. What on earth could have caused this young life to be snuffed out so quickly? Had something spooked Julie’s horse, Mercedes? Had Julie fallen off? Or had there been a medical condition that had flared and rendered her unconscious?
Mercedes had not fared well from the accident either. A farmer had found him lying along the fence of a neighboring farm, and called the stables. His front right knee was shattered; a death sentence for an equine. However, Nick didn’t think the Dobsons would put him down. They had the means for surgery and rehab. Mercedes would never perform again as a show horse, but he would make for a good training ride.
Nick moved carefully about the scene, scanning the ground and brushing for any evidence. He then made the call to Dr. Hartford. When Dr. Hartford didn’t answer the phone, Nick left a message and took the next half hour to shoot photographs of where Julie’s body had been and the surrounding area.
Nick phoned Doc again and the voicemail picked up, but he didn’t leave a message. It was highly unusual for Doc not to answer. He was always on call and near his phone. Nick asked the EMTs to wait with the body while he drove out to Doc’s house, twenty miles away.
He soon discovered the unfortunate reason why Doc Hartford was not answering his calls. Nick found the doctor in his backyard, near a woodpile, slumped over and near death.
Because of the doctor’s unnatural position, Nick was afraid he had a second body on his hands. A quick pulse and breath check relieved him. Doc was still alive!
Nick immediately dispatched a second ambulance to Doc’s house, and he stayed with him the entire eight minutes and thirty-six seconds it took for the emergency team to arrive. By that time, Doc had regained consciousness but was slurring his words and claiming he felt woozy. And it took all of Nick’s strength to keep the good doctor from moving about and trying to stand up. While they waited, Doc insisted Nick tell him about Julie’s case. Doc gave Nick permission to turn over Julie’s body to get more photographs, cautioning him to be careful to note any impact wounds. He wanted Nick to move the body to the morgue, where he would do the autopsy. Nick held back his skepticism that Doc would be up to performing it. He knew it was better to let the old man have hope that he would soon be well enough to resume his work.
Once Dr. Hartford was off in the ambulance, Nick returned to the scene of Julie’s death and finished the investigation. He carefully rolled Julie over to a prone position, but he couldn’t see any obvious causes of death, like a stab wound or bullet hole. An autopsy would reveal much more. Now he just needed to find someone to perform it, as a call to the hospital revealed that Doc was laid up in the ICU, recovering from a heart attack.
Nick had managed to quell his worrying for a good part of the day. But after informing the family and putting out an official press notice, he knew it would only be a matter of hours before the news media from Rock River, the nearest, larger city of half a million, would descend on Freeport to get their story for an early-morning news cycle the next day.
Nick realized the pain forming in his stomach was not stress, but hunger gnawing at him. He thought back to his last meal. Lunch from the day before. No wonder. A burger in his system would help organize his thoughts. So he drove his cruiser down to Orion’s Belt, an all-night diner at the edge of town, and was greeted by a solitary waitress and a young couple on a late date, sharing a meal.
“Anywhere you like, Sherriff,” the waitress, Loretta, called out. He took a seat near the front, and she dropped a glass of ice water in front of him. “Long day, huh?”
“Is it still Friday?” he asked.
“For a few more hours,” she replied. “Know what you want?”
“Double cheeseburger, fries, small salad, vanilla shake, and coffee,” he rattled off.
“Somebody’s starving,” Loretta said. “How do you want that burger cooked?”
“Medium.”
“You got it,” she said and sauntered to the kitchen.
Nick took out his notebook and tried to focus on notes he’d taken earlier from the scene of Julie’s death. The tragedy had rocked the close-knit community. Of course, the question on everyone’s mind was the cause. Nick had checked out the location where the farmer had found her, but he hadn’t noticed anything unusual or indicative of foul play. So, how did Julie die?
Nick had been racking his brain about it all day as he went to the high school and took statements from various teachers and friends who knew Julie. There seemed to be no apparent reason for a natural death. A conversation at the police station with her parents confirmed that she had not been sick or had any life-threatening illnesses. And he had a hard time believing it was a homicide. Julie wasn’t a threat to anyone. There was no evidence to assume it was a teenage crime of passion. She had no boyfriend or jealous ex. Was it a random act of violence? He couldn’t wrap his mind around that because there were no signs of rape or force. No defense wounds. At least from what he could see.
Here’s what he knew so far. Circumstantial evidence pointed to the fact that she had been riding alone Friday morning. She was wearing her riding gear, and her horse, Mercedes, had been found in a nearby pasture, wearing Julie’s saddle. But nobody had actually seen Julie riding that morning. Even the owner of Premiere, Gary Bodum, who’d arrived around seven thirty AM, hadn’t seen Julie. He stated that it wasn’t uncommon for Julie to get a ride in before her first class period at school, which started at 7:45 AM. When that was the case, Julie always left the stables before Gary arrived, so it hadn’t occurred to him to look for her when he got to work.
From what her parents reported, Julie had been a clean kid. No drugs or alcohol. A superior equestrian. Honor Society student. Loving daughter and sister. His interview with a few friends from her school yielded no suspicions that anyone had anything against Julie Dobson.
The town first officially learned of Julie’s death during a noon school announcement provided from the Dobson family. Shortly after, Nick had managed to tamp down the rumors, which had been circulating all morning, and quietly lined up a team of grief counselors at the high school for the afternoon.
Nick had stressed to anyone who asked that the case hinged on the medical examiner’s report, which would take a little longer than usual, seeing as how the town’s medical examiner had just suffered a major heart attack. After his examination, Robert’s nurse, Jo, a good friend of Nick’s, told him in confidence that she was uncertain that Dr. Hartford would ever recover enough to return to his position as medical examiner, and he would definitely not be able to perform Julie’s autopsy. This gave Nick several options. They could send Julie’s body downstate about an hour, to Rock River, where there were several forensic pathologists who could perform the autopsy. It would cost Freeport County four times Dr. Hartford’s hourly rate, not including transportation fees. Or they could check with Michigan State University, which often accepted bodies for medical school students to practice on under the supervision of licensed forensic pathologists. Their fees were only double Dr. Hartford’s rates, half of what Rock River pathologists charged. Of course, Nick would need to get Julie’s parents’ approval for this. That could prove challenging because the university was more than a three-hour drive from Freeport, and that meant even more transport costs.
They could always send for another medical examiner, whose fees would be five or six times Dr. Hartford’s normal rates. And it might take up to a week to get on a traveling medical examiner’s schedule. But at least Julie’s body could stay in Freeport, which would lend a great deal of comfort to her family and the community. And to Nick. He trusted Doc. Everyone trusted Doc. It would be hard for Freeport to see one of their beloved young go under the knife of a stranger. Questions and suspicions would be raised, and the answers never fully accepted. That was just small-town mentality. It wasn’t easy for them to trust outsiders.
Nick sighed as he ran all these options through his head. These thoughts soon became clouded with Nick’s distress about Dr. Hartford’s heart attack. Dr. Hartford was a brilliant ME, and he didn’t believe in bilking the taxpayers. He charged a minimal wage for his work, and he lived within his means. Greed wasn’t woven into any part of Dr. Hartford’s fabric. Unfortunately, Freeport County had long taken Dr. Hartford’s services for granted. They were used to a bargain. And Nick knew that before he could decide what to do with Julie’s body, he would have to get approval from County Commissioner Beavon’s office to release the additional funds. Beavon saw little PR benefit to spending money on the dead. He preferred spending on flashy causes like festivals, park renovations, and street repairs. These were visible ways he could show off his benevolent stewardship of county coffers to the people of Freeport.
Loretta returned with a tray laden with Nick’s order and set each part down on the table. She glanced curiously at the notebook open next to Nick.
“Shame about Julie Dobson. She was a talented girl. Big loss for Freeport,” said Loretta.
“It is. Quite a shock.”
“She and her family used to come in every Saturday for breakfast.”
“Is that so. Did you talk with her?”
“Sometimes. Just chitchat. You got any leads on how she died?” Loretta asked, fishing.
“You know I can’t talk about that,” he said with burger stuffed in his mouth.
“But I’m still gonna ask.” Loretta nodded with a wink and filled his coffee mug. Then, Nick added, “How well would you say you knew Julie?”
“I dunno. I’ve been at Orion’s for six years. So I guess I’ve known her since she was eleven or twelve.”
“You notice any changes in her behavior lately?” asked Nick. Loretta thought about it for a second as Nick scarfed down a few fries.
“I noticed Julie didn’t wanna talk too much to her family,” Loretta said. “It was like she didn’t really wanna be with them.”
“Isn’t that normal for teens?” Nick asked.
“Not for Julie,” Loretta explained. “She used to be really talkative with them. Telling them what happened at school. Joking. Laughing.”
“When did that stop happening?” Nick asked.
“I guess over the summer. Julie would come in wearing a sullen look.”
“Maybe she was tired,” Nick suggested.
“That look was planted on her face the whole breakfast. Every week,” Loretta said.
“Did you ever ask her or her parents what was wrong?” Nick pressed.
“One time I asked her mom if everything was okay. And she just shrugged and said, ‘You know teens.’ So I left it alone. ’Cause I do know teens. And they go through phases,” Loretta stated.
“Well, from your experience with teens, what kind of phase do you think Julie was in?” Nick queried.
“Who’s to say? Teens got a lot more to think about these days than they did back in my time. Lot more to distract them. They got access to a bigger world, Sherriff. Could be almost anything,” Loretta concluded.
“Anything like drugs, alcohol? Do you know who she hung around with?” Nick asked.
“Not really. I only saw her in here,” Loretta answered.
“You said she was depressed?” Nick asked for clarification.
“I wouldn’t say depressed. Just annoyed. Like any teenager dragged to breakfast on a Saturday morning with their parents. I didn’t read too much in it,” Loretta added, taking Nick’s empty salad plate with her back to the kitchen.
Almost anything, thought Nick. That’s what it felt like. A broad chasm filled with endless options and questions. He needed that autopsy done. First thing in the morning. There was a town and media that would soon be muscling him for answers.
He paid his tab and hopped back to his patrol car. He wasn’t on patrol anymore, but he didn’t feel like going home. He wouldn’t sleep anyhow. He wanted to hang around Freeport until the press rolled into town, which could be any moment. They were known to set up camp in the middle of the night to break their story at dawn.
Nick decided to take a slow drive around town. Driving was therapy. It always helped him find answers he needed.
6
It was almost ten PM when Emily’s Nissan Leaf zipped through the empty streets of Freeport, her hometown, north into the mitten of Michigan, about a four-hour drive from Chicago. She hadn’t seen the town in twelve years, but honestly, things didn’t look a whole lot different since she’d left. A few storefronts downtown were boarded up. Others were new to her. A yarn store. A high-end home goods store. A new coffee shop. What one had been her mom’s favorite department store, Glassner’s, was now a sporting goods and outfitters, oddly boasting the same name. Live bait, ammo, and hunting licenses were advertised in the front window.
Exhaustion etched in her expression, Emily sailed past the four downtown blocks, blowing the only stoplight at the center of town. She kept going for several blocks, oblivious to the flashing lights behind her. Finally, the police car trailing her sounded its siren. The cop at the wheel let it squeal for a few seconds, enough time to grab Emily’s attention, and then shut it off so as not to disturb the sleepy town.
