“Would you also write down the names of your residents and staff?”
“The officer told me none of my people were hurt.”
“We just like to be sure everyone’s been accounted for.” Sally wrote the names down, her hand steady and sure. “I’ve listed seven names. Six residents and one staff member. I starred resident names who supplied full names that I thought might be fictitious.”
“Fictitious?” Garrison said.
“I hadn’t had time to verify their identities. Some may have lied about their last names.”
“That happens a lot?”
“All the time. But I always check on people. I don’t want trouble. Yesterday was my night off and I was in a rush to get out. I didn’t take the time to run background checks. It was cold, and turning folks away seemed harsh.” She raised fingers to her lips. “Did one of my residents do this?”
“I don’t know yet.” Garrison glanced at his notepad. “You only had one staff worker on call last night?”
“I was supposed to have two but my second night worker called to say she’d be late.”
“Did her call surprise you?”
“No, no. Eva is very reliable. She just called to say she’d have to work late—at her other job. She works three jobs. She’s hustling to save money. I understood she’d be here as soon as she could.”
“You said her name was Eva?”
“That’s right. Eva Rayburn.”
“And the other volunteer?”
“Beamer.”
“We spoke to him last night. He was in the front of the house watching TV with the residents when the fire broke out.”
“Sounds like Neal. He likes his television. I’m glad Eva wasn’t on site.”
“Why?”
“She’d have been in the back of the house in the kitchen working. The kid barely sits down.”
Garrison thought about his victim. “What does Eva look like?”
“She’s short. Maybe five feet. Dark hair. Blue, blue eyes. Pretty girl. Could pass for a fifteen-year-old. Why do you ask?”
Eva matched the description of his mystery woman. “We found the body of a woman behind the shelter. I’m trying to identify her.”
The furrow in Sally’s brow deepened. “Oh, God. Was the girl Eva?”
“Judging by your description, no.”
Sally pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead. “Was this woman killed by the fire?”
“We’re still trying to determine the cause of death.” He pulled a Polaroid of the victim’s face shot before the medical examiner’s office bagged her body. “Would you mind looking at a picture of the woman? ”
Sally straightened her shoulders. “Of course.”
The lines on Sally’s face deepened as she stared at the picture of the victim. Tears welled in her eyes. “Poor woman. God bless her.”
“Do you know her?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sure?”
She drew in a breath and refocused on the picture. Seconds passed. “Sorry, I don’t know her.”
Garrison took the picture back and tucked it in his breast pocket. “No problem.”
“What can you tell us about the people who were staying in the house?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Whatever you have at this point.”
“Two of the women had jobs as cleaning ladies at a local school. The men didn’t work, but collected Social Security. ”
“Did you have any trouble here recently?”
“No. In fact, it’s been as smooth as glass. No fights. No contraband found. I knew trouble was bound to return. Looks like it did in spades.”
“What’s your idea of contraband?”
“We do surprise searches every day. If I find something that breaks our house rules, I confiscate it. Knives or guns. Drugs. Alcohol. The usual troublemakers. If a weapon or drugs are found, the resident has to leave immediately, but if it’s alcohol we sometimes cut them a second chance. The resident is issued a warning and if it happens a second time they’re evicted.”
“You evict anyone lately?”
“It’s been a couple of months since I had to kick someone out.”
“Who was it? ”
“Oh, I’ll have to go back and check my records.” She glanced up at the shelter. The charred ruins glared back at her. “The files were in my office. They were destroyed.”
“And you don’t remember this person’s name?”
“Only that it was a woman. She brought drugs into the shelter. I tossed her out. She called me a few names.”
“Any threats?”
“Oh, yeah. In fact, Eva stepped between us. She’s small, but the girl is strong and isn’t afraid of a fight.”
“What did Eva say to her?”
Sally raised a brow. “She spoke so quietly I couldn’t hear, but whatever she said it had a real impact.”
“Ever hear from that resident again?”
“No.” Sally paused then snapped her fingers. “Her name was Brenda.” She frowned as if burrowing into her memory and then shook her head. “But the last name escapes me.”
“Anything else you can tell me about Brenda?”
“She worked the streets. Said she wanted to get her life together but she was just one of those people who seemed more interested in a bed and a hot meal than putting her life back on track.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
“Enough. But for every one hard-core addict that shows up here, two others really need us. Most of our residents just have trouble managing the day-to-day details of life caused by mental illness.”
“Would you be willing to look at a few mug shots to see if we can identify this Brenda woman?”
“Sure. Sure, I’ll do whatever I can to help. Where are my residents? I want to talk to them.”
“We bused them to the YMCA so they could shower and get a meal.”
“I’ll need to check on them.”
“Sure. An officer can drive you.”
“He can follow if he wants, but I drive my own car. First the Y, then the station.”
“Sure.” Garrison pulled a card from his pocket. “Call me if anything else comes to mind.”
Sally took the card. “Sure.”
Chapter 6
Tuesday, April 4, 8:15 A.M.
When Eva approached the shelter, she parked on a side street like she had last night and again cut through the yards. When she rounded the corner her breath caught in her throat as she got her first daylight look at the burned-out structure. The old Victorian had collapsed into a pile of charred, smoking timbers. The scent of smoke still hung in the air. It truly was a miracle that anyone had gotten out alive.
“Eva.” The unknown man’s deep voice caught her off guard and she turned, startled. The cop from last night stood only a few feet from her. She’d not heard him approach.
She faced him. “I’m sorry?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You are Eva Rayburn.”
Not a question but a statement. “Who are you?”
“Detective Deacon Garrison.” He pointed to the badge hanging around his neck. “You are Eva.” He glanced through the yards at her truck. “And that is your vehicle?”
She could lie. But checking her license would be easy enough. “The truck belongs to my boss. Toby King owner of King’s Pub.”
He nodded. “You work at the shelter?”
“How do you know my name?”
He moved a few steps closer, but was careful not to get too close. “I spoke to Sally Walton a few minutes ago. She described you.”
“You’ve seen Sally?”
“Yes. She’s fine.”
Some of the tightness eased in her throat. “Good.”
“How many were staying at the shelter last night? ”
Garrison stood well over six feet and she had to crane her neck to look him in the eye. “They expected five or six. But often more show up by lights out. I was running lat
e so I couldn’t say.”
“Where were you?”
“I deliver subpoenas. You can ask my boss, Luke Fraser, at LTF Processing.”
“I’ll do that.”
Eva resisted the urge to drape her arms around her chest. No need to feel defensive. In fact, sounding defensive fueled the flames of suspicion. “Great.”
He hovered, clearly not finished. “Do you know who was staying here?”
“I can jot down a list of who was here. We have regulars but I have no way of knowing. Didn’t Sally know?”
“She did. Just double-checking.” He handed her a pad from his pocket. “Write them down.”
Tense fingers gripped the pen and she wrote names in neat, precise handwriting. “I don’t know if these names are real or assumed. Sometimes our residents lie.”
“Do the best you can.” He smelled of soap. No aftershave. No frills. Neatly trimmed nails and a starched shirt projected a button-down, by-the-book image that would have been totally believable if not for an intense energy that seemed barely restrained.
She handed back the notebook, mindful not to touch him. “Did anyone die?”
“We had one fatality.”
“Oh my God. Who?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Do you know how the fire started?”
“I hoped you could tell me.”
“Me? I wasn’t here.” This moment mirrored another night ten years ago. Cops threw leading questions at her and interrupted when her answers didn’t fit what they wanted.