Don't Slay the Dragon (The Chronicles of Elizabeth Marshall Book 1) (6 page)

Chapter Eleven

It was a cold, rainy afternoon that I sat in the waiting room of the small police station.  The receptionist behind the front desk kept looking up at me from her computer screen.  They didn’t get many homicides in a small town like this, so I guess it drew attention when someone came in to speak to the detectives on the case about it.

“Ms. Stewart?”  An older man came through the secured
door and stood before me, his large hand extended to shake mine.  I stood and shook his hand.  He was probably in his late fifties and just a few inches taller than me, about five feet eight or nine but solid with a slight stomach.  His hair was slate gray with a mustache just a shade darker.  He wore a black pull-over with a ‘Riverview Police Department’ logo on his chest and dark gray dress pants.  His weapon was on his right hip and his badge was attached to his holster. “I’m Detective Hammond.  Follow me this way.”

I followed him through a labyrinth of halls and offices.   It seemed as though they had expanded recently
.  The first part of the offices looked older, but as we went further it looked newer, with updated carpeting and fresher paint.  We stopped at a medium sized office and he waited to let me enter first.  There were two desks in the room, each facing an opposing wall.  One small window let muted light in.  I sat in the only empty chair while he went to the desk with the placard “Detective Don Hammond”. 

At the other
desk another detective sat, talking on his office phone and looking at his computer screen.  He seemed wrapped up in his conversation and didn’t notice my entrance.  He had black, wavy  hair and was clean shaven.  I didn’t get a full look at his face, but he seemed younger, early thirties maybe. 

I didn’t want to open the conversation and Detective Hammond remained silent until
his partner hung up the phone. 

“Detective Sawyer,”
the other officer rose and extended his hand towards me once his phone conversation had ended.  As I shook it I noticed how tall he was, a good six foot four.  He was broad shouldered, physically fit, with piercing blue-gray eyes.  He had a dark red pull-over with the same logo on it, black dress pants and holstered weapon.  While Detective Hammond had a more stern face, Detective Sawyer’s face was more open, kinder.

“Ms. Stewart.  How can we help you today?”  He began.

Before I could open my mouth to reply, Hammond interrupted.

“You do understand that there is certain information that we can’t divulge
in the Barbara Marshall case, don’t you?”  His bushy eyebrows drew together as he talked, speaking to me like he might a child.  “Even though we were the investigating detectives, the case is still open, it hasn’t gone to trial.  Most of the information related to the case is-“

“Hammond
, hold up.”  Detective Sawyer interrupted.  He seemed the more patient of the two.  “Maybe we should find out what Ms. Stewart is here for before we start laying down the law.”  There was a sparkle in his eyes, as though he was amused at his partner’s pit bull behavior and encouraging me not to take it too seriously.  Hammond pursed his lips but kept silent.  Sawyer turned his full attention to me.

“Call me Caitlyn, please.”  I began.  “I understand there is information you can’t tell me.  Mark Jacobs, her public defender, referred me to you both.  There may be more to the case than you realize
.”

“Doubtful,” Hammond scoffed.  “It’s a slam-dunk case if I ever saw one. 
All the evidence points to the daughter.  She’s a nut job. Guilty as sin.” He took a file folder from off his desk and riffled through it. It must have been Lisbeth’s case file. I couldn’t see much from where I was sitting.  “There’s plenty of motive and history between Barbara and her daughter.  All of the neighbors interviewed said there had been a volatile history between them for years. Their arguments were well known among the other residents of the trailer park. In fact, no one else even had a motive as far as we can tell. When you’ve been on the force as many years as I have, you can see these things coming from a mile away.”

Sawyer cleared his throat, a clear signal for Hammond to shut his mouth. 

“The
suspect
is innocent until proven guilty,” Sawyer corrected.  “And as you just said, there hasn’t been a trial yet.”

Hammond rolled his eyes.  This must have been a frequent argument between them.   He opened his mouth to launch into what I’m sure was heated reply when
a female, uniformed officer appeared in the doorway.

“The Chief wants to see you, Hammond.” 
Detective Hammond opened his mouth, about to argue.  “Now.”  She didn’t wait for a reply but turned and walked away.

With a grunt
he slammed the case file onto his desk then stood up and exited the room without another comment.  Sawyer gave a heavy sigh and turned back to me.

“You’ll have to excuse Don,” Sawyer smiled once Hammond was out of hearing
, “he’s eight months away from retirement. I think he used up all of his patience the first thirty years he was on the force.”

His easy going manner helped me relax a bit.  His grin was boyish and charming, and probably well practiced.  I imagined the two detectives were great at the whole good cop/bad cop routine.  But could I really trust this officer to take what I was going to say seriously?
  I hadn’t had the best of luck in my personal life dealing with a man in uniform.  Trust alone was something I still struggled to give blindly.

“Ok, back to why you’re here.”  He lifted
his eyebrows, prompting me to talk.

“Well, I’m just concerned that you might not know all the facts of this case.”  Was it my imagination or was his smile slipping and starting to look just a bit condescending?

“I assure you, Caitlyn, that we did a very thorough investigation.”  He leaned back in his office chair and crossed his arms over his wide chest.  He looked somewhat smug.  Had I just stepped on his law enforcement ego?  “The forensics team carefully gathered all the evidence.  We made sure the crime scene was not contaminated in any way.  I understand with all these C.S.I. shows on TV that everyone thinks they’re an expert, but you don’t need to worry in this case.  I can’t go into details with you about the evidence, but I assure you we covered every base.”

He was already dismissing me and he hadn’t even heard what I had to say. 

“Can you tell me if it was just fingerprints from Elizabeth’s right hand that was found on the knife?  Was there any trace of fingerprints from her left hand?”

His eyes narrowed just a bit.  He opened his mouth to say something then turned and wheeled his
chair towards Detective Hammond’s desk.  He opened a manila file folder still lying on the desktop.  I couldn’t see much more of the file but it seemed to be well-organized and fairly thick.  He shuffled through several pages, scanned through reports, then seemed to find what he was looking for.

“Palm and fingerprints of the right hand only, an exact match to the suspect.”  He flipped the folder closed, as though that ended the conversation. 

“If there were only prints from the right hand, then Elizabeth couldn’t have killed her mother.”

He chuckled and shook his head. 

“I’m really not following your logic.”  He was humoring me at this point, I could tell.  It wasn’t surprising considering what I was dealing with.  Sometimes it was hard, even for me, to take it all in.  It wasn’t exactly something most people thought about on a daily basis.

“How much to you know about
dissociative identity disorder, Detective Sawyer?”

His look of confusion was what I was waiting for.

“It used to be known as multiple personality disorder.”

His eyebrows rose in question
.  He cleared his throat and thought a moment before he spoke.  He seemed to be taking me seriously now.

“Ok, Caitlyn, you have my full attention now.”
  He leaned closer to me, a curious expression in his eyes.  Before I could say another word, his cell phone rang.  He mumbled a curse, checked the caller ID, then turned his back and answered his cell. 

“Really?
  Are you sure it’s him?”  He spoke into the black cell phone, his face a mixture of frustration and excitement.  “We’ve been looking for him for months. Ok, be right there.”

He stood up and I followed suit, sorry our conversation had ended so quickly.

“I’m sorry, Caitlyn.  We’ve been trying to locate a suspect from another case and they just picked him up in North Salt Lake.  I have to transfer him back to this jurisdiction.”  He ran a hand through his thick hair in frustration.  “I really want to continue this conversation.  Can we meet another time, tomorrow maybe?”

I nodded, grateful that he still might be willing to hear me out.

“How about the espresso shop across the street?  Say around noon?  I’d rather not have Hammond there next time.  We can cover more ground that way.” 

Chapter Twelve

There was something exciting about turning sixteen and being behind the wheel of a car for the first time, with no one else there but you.  No parent doing back-seat driving, no annoying big sister always criticizing, no little brother making noises.  Just myself, the radio, and the open road.

It wasn’t that far of a drive to get to Lisbeth’s trailer park,
but it was still great going solo.  It was a beautiful spring night with only a slight breeze in the air.  I got there too quickly so I took my time trying to park my mother’s SUV in the narrow road in front of the trailer.  Finally satisfied with my parallel parking, I locked up with a click to the gadget on her key ring and walked up the three wooden steps to the front door.

Lisbeth met me at the door with a relieved smile.  She gave me that look that told me that she and Barbara were getting on each other’s nerves today and she was grateful to have me here for a buffer.  I walked through the door, directly entering the kitchen/dining area.   Barbara was in the tiny cooking space, juggling several pans on the small stove.  She gave me a brief smile and a distracted wave then turned back to the stove.

“Come on, let me show you what the Academy recruiters sent me,” Lisbeth grabbed my arm and led me through the small front room.  Through the doorway was her room.   It took up the front part of the trailer but was still diminutive to the point of being claustrophobic. 

The floor was littered with clothes until you couldn’t see the carpet.  The narrow twin bed was a jumble of pillows and
blankets.  On any flat surface there were martial arts trophies and medals.  Her walls were covered with countless fanciful pictures she had drawn over the years but tacked over the top now were several colored posters from the U.S. Naval Academy.  Blue Angels in a tight formation flying over majestic mountains. The beautiful scenery of Maryland where it was located.  Somehow, they seemed really out of place with the rest of the room.

“Elizabeth, set the table.”  The stern order was issued from the kitchen. 

“Give me a minute, Barbara,” Lisbeth yelled back.  She gave me a mischievous smile, knowing it drove her mother crazy to be called by her first name.  “Caitlyn just got here.”

We both sat on her messy bed and she opened the top drawer of her little dresser and took out a thick yellow envelope. 

“Dinner is almost done.”  Came the stern voice from the other room.  “If you want to eat before this meal is ice cold, I would suggest you come set the table this instant!”

Lisbeth gave a frustrated growl underneath her breath.  Barbara had a real knack for exaggeration and it always drove Lisbeth nuts.

“Here, you look through it,” she tossed the envelope my way and stomped off towards the kitchen, mumbling to herself.

I opened the envelope and looked through the numerous brochures from the Academy. 
Leafing through the various class curriculums I couldn’t help hearing the conversation from the other room.

“Do you always have to embarrass me like that?”  Lisbeth grumbled.

“Do you always have to be so disrespectful to your mother?”  I knew Barbara was getting ready to go into martyr-mode when she referred to herself in the third person.

“I wouldn’t be so disrespectful to you if you wou
ld treat me like an adult once in a while.”

“I’ll treat you like an adult when you act like an adult.”

“I act more mature than you do most of the time,
Barbara
.”  Lisbeth said the name with relish.

Time to be the referee.
  I tucked the brochures carefully back into the envelope and headed for the kitchen.

“That smells delicious,” I walked in as though I hadn’t heard their conversation.  Just like old times, I helped Lisbeth clear enough space at one end of their small table for a third place setting.  “Is that chicken fried steak?”

“Yes,” Barbara sniffed and bestowed a smile of approval on me.  “I remember how much you used to love my recipe.  At least someone here appreciates all that I do.”  She gave Lisbeth a pointed look which her daughter returned with a glare.  “There’s a green salad and my homemade mashed potatoes too.”

My presence seemed to work towards breaking up the tension.  How did these two manage to keep from killing each other with no one here all the time to break up their fights?  I thought to myself.

We each settled into a peaceful meal.  We often bumped elbows and struggled to find room for the serving dishes and our plates on the small table, but at least they had stopped arguing.  I always felt so uncomfortable when they argued in front of me.  I searched my mind for what I hoped was a safe topic of conversation.

“I guess you’ll be hearing from the Academy soon.  Their deadline for notifying scholarship applicants has to be coming up any time now.”

“I really wish you would reconsider this ridiculous idea of being accepted into the Naval Academy, Elizabeth.”

Oh no, had I just stepped into a mine
field? 

“Drop it, Barbara,” Lisbeth mumbled but kept her head down and concentrated on her plate. 

“You know how I feel about the military.  They’re just a bunch of lying murderers, controlled by our corrupt government.”  Barbara was warming up to the subject.  I could see the blotchy red starting to cover Lisbeth’s face.  “Besides, their entry requirements are far too strict.  You’ll barely make the academic and physical requirements but they look for leadership skills too.  When have you ever had any leadership experience?”

“I think Lisbeth has great skills,” I tried to defend her and side-track Barbara but Lisbeth interrupted me.

“I said drop it, Barb,” her voice had lowered and her shoulders were hunched over.  “We’ve already been over this a million times before.”

Lisbeth was getting angrier and I hoped Barbara would read the signals and back down.  What was with Barbara tonight, anyway? 
She seemed to be especially combative.

“You’re just doing this to be spiteful,” Barbara wouldn’t let up.  “There are plenty of good local universities you could go to right here in the state.  They would hand you a scholarship if you just applied
for it.”

Lisbeth made a
visible effort to get control of her temper.  She took a deep breath, carefully put her steak knife and fork down next to her plate, and looked up at her mother across the table.

“I want to go to the
Naval Academy, Mother.”  Her voice was steady and determined.  “I’ve met with the recruiters and scouts several times, as you know.  They have assured me that I’ve met all their requirements.  You need to just accept the fact that I’m going.”

Now I understood why Lisbeth chose the
Naval Academy.  It was her great act of rebellion.  The military environment went against all of Barbara’s anti-establishment beliefs. 

Barbara had always hated the government, the entire political process. The thought the military was just a war machine, full of murderers, sent out into the world as mercenaries to kill innocent lives. It was as though she was born for another age. She would have flourished in the sixties.

It wasn’t enough for Lisbeth to find a school out of state and on the other side of the country from her mother, she had to choose one that Barbara would least approve of.  She wanted to find a place as far removed from this little trailer in the run down trailer park and her mother’s control as possible.

“Then why haven’t you heard anything yet?”  She goaded.  “They would have contacted you by now if they were really interested in you.” 

Barbara’s hazel eyes narrowed at her daughter then she stabbed a piece of meat with her fork and put it in her mouth.  I watched in trepidation as Lisbeth flattened her hands on the table next to her plate and utensils. 

“Lisbeth, I’m about done eating.” I tried desperately for a distraction.  “Why don’t we go for a walk then we can help with the dishes when we get back.”

She didn’t seem to hear me.  Her left hand now hovered over her steak knife on the table.  Barbara continued as though I hadn’t spoken.

“You really need to accept your limitations, Elizabeth,” she brought her fork up to make her point
.  “This is what we are.”  She gestured around us at the tiny trailer.  “You’re just poor white trailer trash.  The Naval Academy doesn’t accept poor white trailer trash in their-“

With a flash, Lisbeth had the steak knife in her left hand, brought it up across the table and had it within an inch of Barbara’s throat.  My metal chair scraped across the linoleum floor as I shot back in surprise.  I expected anger in Barbara’s face, fear even.  I didn’t expect the smirk.  She had her steak knife too, and it was pointed against Lisbeth’s chest.
  It was inches away from her heart.

“Try it, daughter of mine,” she purred.  “What’s the old saying?  I brought you into this world.  I can take you out
of it.”

Had the world suddenly turned upside-down?  How could I possibly diffuse this situation?  How had I gotten myself into the middle of this? 
Why had I left my purse with my cell phone in it back in Lisbeth’s room?

I glanced
back and forth between the two faces, one older and smug, the other younger and intense.  The similarities between the two faces were haunting.  Suddenly, a vicious gleam came into Lisbeth’s eyes.  With a swift move of her right hand, the sharp edge of her palm came up and slashed across Barbara’s wrist, causing her mother’s steak knife to fly across the room and land with a clatter on the floor next to the front door.  Lisbeth’s knife was once again against her mother’s throat, a tiny drop of blood dripping down her wrinkled neck.

I snapped out of my horrified, frozen state.

“Let’s go outside, Lisbeth,” I stood up and cautiously approached the two.  A deep look of fear was now in Barbara’s eyes.  All smugness had been erased.  I didn’t dare touch either of them but tried to keep my voice calm and careful.  “Just put the knife down and we’ll go outside.”

“The Dragon should die.”  It was a deep, masculine voice that came out of Lisbeth’s lips. 
The dark, hallow voice sent shivers up my spine. 

“Put the knife down, Lisbeth.”  I tried to keep the fear out of my voice. 

“Lisbeth isn’t here.”  The sinister voice replied.

“Then who is this?”  I don’t know what made me ask that question. 

“Vesper.”  He hissed.

I was going completely on instinct now.  Nothing in my somewhat sheltered life had prepare
d me for anything like this.  I inched closer and carefully held out my hand, hoping it wasn’t too obvious how bad it was shaking.

“Give me the knife, Vesper.” 
I requested. Barbara was shaking so bad herself that I feared she would injure herself further. 

Lisbeth turned slightly to look at me.  I don’t know how to describe it except that there was nothing familiar in those green-black eyes.  A complete stranger was staring back at me.

“Vesper, give me the knife.”  I repeated more firmly.

We all stood frozen for what seemed like an eternity.  No one appeared to breathe.  What should I do next? 
Should I run for her bedroom and grab my cell?  Call the police? A moment went by, then another. My entire body seemed to ache with the strain. 

I was as surprised as anyone when the steak knife was placed slowly in my open palm
, as casually as if she was handing me a roll with dinner.  My friend seemed to mentally shake herself then look at me blankly, a confused expression crossing her face.  If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought she had been somewhere else all this time. Her eyes lightened to a bright green though she still stood tensely. 

Wasting no time, I scrambled to gather up my steak knife and the one on the floor, taking all three
and subtly dropping them into the kitchen garbage can behind me.   

“Hey Caitlyn, let’s go for a walk.”  Lisbeth was back. Her
voice was light and almost carefree.  I glanced at Barbara to gage her reaction.  She wiped the drop of blood on her neck with a paper dinner napkin, thankfully keeping silent.  She gathered the dinner plates from the table and put them in the sink, hands still shaking.  She stood at the sink with her back to us both, trying to gain control of herself I would guess.  Maybe it was best to get Lisbeth out of here right now.