Gretchen said, “So, during Beverly Urban’s junior year of high school, she worked at the ice cream stand which was right across the street from the theater where Kurt Dutton was personally overseeing a remodel.”
“Right,” Josie said.
Gretchen went on, “And the summer after your junior year, Ray was working at a site across from the Wellspring Clinic where Beverly went, probably to confirm her pregnancy.”
“Yes,” Josie said. “I think that’s how she got his jacket and how his prints got on her receipt. Ray must have seen her there or coming from there. She was probably upset. Ray could never help himself when it came to vulnerable women being upset. He’d spent his entire childhood trying to comfort his mother every time his father beat her up. Then when his father finally left, Ray was fiercely protective of her.”
“But Ray was fiercely protective of you as well,” Noah pointed out. “And Beverly was your enemy.”
“I know,” Josie agreed. “But if he’d seen Beverly coming out of the clinic upset, he would have helped her or tried to comfort her. I know he would.”
Gretchen said, “Ray sees her, goes to her, comforts her. Gives her his jacket. That’s why he never told the truth about what happened to it. He couldn’t get it back from her because she was buried in it. Like everyone else in your high school class, he figured she just moved away and took the jacket with her.”
Josie nodded. “And Ray knew how much she liked him. He wouldn’t have been surprised that she left town with his beloved jacket. He definitely would not have told me what happened at the time because he would have known I’d go ballistic back then.”
Mettner said, “All right, we’ve got the Ray connection sorted out. It makes sense, and if we’re wrong, we’ll know it from the baby’s DNA test. If we’re right, Ray definitely didn’t kill her. What’s the final piece?”
“Kurt Dutton,” Josie said. “He and Beverly were having an affair. He was the father of her baby. That would have been problematic for a number of reasons, including the fact that Vera had a prior connection to Dutton’s wife.”
Chitwood said, “How did you get from Beverly working across the street from Dutton to him fathering her child?”
“From this,” Josie said. She laid another piece of paper on the desk for all of them to see. It was a color photograph pulled from Marisol Dutton’s Facebook page. The post had been made nearly ten years ago, but that didn’t matter. The picture told them everything they needed to know. In it, Kurt Dutton stood on a beach staring out at a sunset. A drink rested in his hand. His head was turned back toward the camera, a smile on his face. On his left shoulder was a skull tattoo. Marisol had captioned it simply: Paradise. Josie placed the photo they’d found among Beverly’s things beside it for comparison.
Mettner gave a low whistle. “Damn.”
“All right,” Chitwood said. “We have a solid link between Beverly and Kurt Dutton. I think a defense lawyer’s gonna argue that in Beverly’s photo you can’t see the guy’s face so we can’t prove it was Dutton, but we’ll let the lawyers sort that out at trial.”
“What about Vera?” Gretchen asked. “Where does she fit into all this?”
Noah said, “Maybe she saw him kill Beverly? She disappears because she’s afraid he’ll kill her, too, and then when Beverly’s body is found, she comes back to Denton and he actually does kill her.”
Gretchen shook her head. “I don’t think that makes complete sense. If Vera saw the murder, why wouldn’t she just report it? We’re talking about her kid here.”
Noah said, “Dutton was rich and powerful and, at that time, he was running for City Council.”
Gretchen said, “But he wasn’t cartel powerful or federal government powerful. She could have turned him in easily. I think we’re still missing something. Besides, he’s got an alibi for the morning Vera was shot. After we met with Connie and Marisol, I made some calls to confirm their alibis. Both were home with their husbands.”
Mettner said, “Maybe Marisol lied for her husband.”
Josie said, “Or maybe she slept late that morning and never knew he was gone. What if she’d been drinking heavily the night before? Passed out? It’s possible he could have snuck out and back in before she even woke up. We’re onto something now. It’s a start. We also checked Dutton’s firearm purchase records. He has owned a nine millimeter pistol since 2000.”
Chief Chitwood said, “You’ve got enough to bring him in and talk to him. Do it. Tomorrow. Schedule him to come in. Two of you stay here to question him while the other two serve the warrant at his home for the gun. We’ll go from there.”
Forty-Six
The next morning, Josie and Noah waited in her car just outside the entrance to Quail Hollow Estates. Gone were the protestors and the residents opposing them. Josie sipped her coffee while Noah looked at his phone. “Dutton was due at the stationhouse ten minutes ago.”
“He’s running late,” Josie said.
They had driven past the Dutton residence upon their arrival at Quail Hollow and seen both Dutton vehicles in the driveway. Then they’d taken up position outside of the development so they’d know exactly when he left. But he never emerged.
Josie’s cell phone chirped with a text message. She looked at it. “Gretchen,” she told Noah. “Dutton’s attorney is there waiting for him. He’s called Dutton’s cell phone but didn’t get an answer.”
Noah grimaced. “You want to go in or wait a few more minutes?”
“Let’s give it ten more minutes,” Josie said. “Then we’ll knock.”
The ten minutes passed slowly. Gretchen texted once more to let them know Dutton’s attorney had tried again, unsuccessfully, to reach Dutton. Still there was no sign of Dutton’s vehicle leaving the development.
Josie put the car in drive, a sinking feeling in her stomach, and headed toward the Dutton residence. She parked on the street and together, she and Noah approached the house. They knocked on the door but there was no answer. They rang the doorbell. Nothing.
“I don’t like this,” Josie said.
“We can’t go in without cause,” Noah said.
Josie took out her phone and fired off a text to Gretchen. “I’m going to ask her to make sure attempts to contact both the husband and the wife have been made. Wait here, I’m going to see if any of the neighbors are home. Maybe one of them has a key.”
Noah stood at the front door, alternately knocking and ringing the doorbell to no avail while Josie went door to door along the street. Of the six houses she went to, three of the neighbors either weren’t home or didn’t answer. Two didn’t have keys. The last neighbor was Connie Prather. She answered the door in jeans and a fitted T-shirt that said Mama Bear on it. In her arms was her tiny dog.
“Mrs. Prather,” Josie said. “By any chance do you have a key to the Duttons’ home?”
“What’s going on?”
“Mr. Dutton was supposed to meet his attorney at the police station this morning, and he didn’t show up. Both vehicles are there, but we’re not able to get in touch with Marisol or her husband.”