AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But as she stepped inside, she saw that the officer at the desk was on the phone. Immediately, May's instincts prickled, as thefemale officer's tense stance told her clearly that this was an emergency call.
A moment later, the officer glanced at her, and May saw the same urgency reflected in her hazel brown eyes. Without a doubt, something had happened, and May stepped forward, ready to hear what it was, preparing herself for whatever this next disaster might be.
She cut the call and took a deep breath, her expression serious as she looked from May to Owen and back again.
"You need to get to Chestnut Hill, immediately," she said. "There's been a murder there. The family have just called it in from their homestead. They had a break-in on a cottage on their property, probably a couple of hours ago. And a young woman, their twenty-year-old daughter, has been killed."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
May gasped a horrified breath as she took in this latest bombshell. Another woman was a victim—and this time, she was killed?
She and Owen rushed for the car while the officer in the lobby was busy summoning reinforcements. In a short time, May knew, forensics, the coroner, and additional police would be rushing to the farmhouse. But for now, she and Owen were leading the charge.
They jumped into May's car and sped to the scene, which was to the west of Chestnut Hill.
May was feeling sick inside.
"Do you think this is related to these other murders?" she asked Owen.
"It must be. Surely?" he said. "On a homestead too—that's the same as what's been happening with the others."
"But what I don't understand is why this woman was killed," May said. "Killed! We are fairly sure the others were abducted. What happened? Did something go wrong?"
"We need to find out. Their name is Haven. That's their family name. Haven's Homesteading is their business," Owen said, reading the additional information that had been sent through on his phone.
As May veered onto the main road, gripping the wheel and accelerating as fast as she dared, she hoped she would get answers, soon. At least the roads were quiet this late at night, and with her lights flashing, she made good headway and was speeding up to the homestead's main gate in what felt like just a few minutes.
Lights were on, and May could see people standing outside the homestead. There were a few other cars parked there. What had happened, she wondered. How had this tragedy played out?
May jumped out of the car. She was quivering with tension. Taking a deep breath and trying to keep a calm, professional demeanor, she rushed over to the knot of people who were standing outside the farmhouse door.
"Deputy May Moore, and Owen Lovell," she said, introducing the two of them quietly. "I'm so sorry about what's happened. Please can you take us to the scene."
The people moved aside, and May saw at the center of the group, was a tall woman with thick, brown hair graying at the temples, and a man with a shaven head, wearing a black scarf and woolen jacket. Her immediate impression was that they both looked like farming types. And she was sure they were the parents. They confirmed this a moment later. The man spoke, his voice shaking.
"I'm Ron Haven. I'm Melissa's dad. This is my wife. We . . . we can take you to the scene. Melissa lives in a cottage on our property on the other side of our barn. We can show you what we found there."
Wondering what was happening, May walked with them.
"We were having a family dinner in the house," Ron explained, his voice hoarse and breathless as he walked. "Melissa was supposed to join us, but she was getting back late, she was with a client."
"With a client?" May asked as they walked across the paved courtyard and headed down a path toward a cottage that looked to be an annex to a large barn.
"She helps in the family business. Haven's Homesteading. We . . . we help farmers who experience challenging growing conditions. Poor soil, erosion, and the like." Ron sounded as ifhe was finding it difficult to gather his thoughts. He gripped his wife's hand tightly.
"She was supposed to come through to the main house for dinner," Mrs. Haven said. "But when we were ready to eat and she hadn't yet arrived, we went to the cottage to call her. And we found . . . we found her car outside, but her door had been forced." She let out a sobbing gasp.
Ahead, May could see a new silver pickup parked under a wooden carport, next to a cottage with a front door that had most definitely been forced. The wood was splintered, and the door was hanging off its hinges.
Feeling a sense of dread, she stopped at the door and peered into the small cottage. She didn't want to contaminate this scene. Any trace evidence that could be picked up might be important.
But she saw no signs of a body. The hallway ahead seemed to divide into two rooms. To the right was an open door leading into a small lounge with a white sofa and two comfortable chairs as well as a desk and workstation. May noted that the laptop was still in place, closed on the workstation.
And ahead, was a bedroom, and here there were signs of a struggle. The chair was knocked over, and May saw splashes of blood on the bed and on the beige rug. Without a doubt, a violent confrontation had played out here. But murder?
"Where is her body?" May said.
"I . . . I don't know! She's been taken! I can't find her anywhere, and we have looked. We've been looking ever since we called you! We have shouted and called her name. We tried to call her phone, but it's in the bedroom." Turning to her husband, Mrs. Haven dissolved into fresh tears.
