The Shadow Box(83)

Conor pulled out his cell phone and dialed Jen. They had to apply for a warrant to search Dan Benson’s house, office, cars, and the wreck of his boat to see if he had a pair of Top-Siders caked with quicklime. They would search for DNA, weapons, GPS coordinates, and anything else connecting him to the disappearance of Claire Beaudry Chase.





45





TOM


Tom was trying to get hold of Jackie, but when he called both the gallery and her mobile phone, it went straight to voice mail. He texted her, and after three hours, he didn’t receive a reply. That was unusual, and it made him wonder, but he wasn’t exactly worried. He headed across the parking lot, past the van, three state police cars, and Conor’s unmarked vehicle, to the boat shed, where what was left of the Sallie B was stored on a cradle.

The building was cool compared to the hot weather outside, and it still smelled strongly of smoke. He walked toward the hull, looking up at the charred and gaping hole just below the waterline, hearing the chatter of officers getting ready to do their work. His head investigator, Matthew Hendricks, stood amid the detectives and troopers.

The Major Crime Squad had gone over and over the boat, but late yesterday Conor had called to say they would be back to search again. As Tom approached, he saw his brother standing at the Sallie B’s stern, reading a sheaf of papers.

“What have you got there?” Tom asked.

“A copy of the search warrant,” Conor said, looking up. “We already served it to your commandant, but here’s one for you too.”

Tom took the papers and read the first page.

SEARCH AND SEIZURE WARRANT / STATE OF CONNECTICUT SUPERIOR COURT

To search the Sallie B, a 42-foot Loring motor yacht (color white, registered to Daniel and Sallie Benson, which is currently stored at the United States Coast Guard Pier B in Easterly, CT).

For property described in the foregoing affidavit and application, to wit:

Blood, saliva, physiological fluids, secretions, and genetic material, hair, fibers, fingerprints, palm prints, footprints, shoe prints, dirt, dust, and soil, paint samples, chemical samples, and items that may contain traces thereof; hatchets, axes, knives, and other sharp-force instruments and cutting tools, shovels and other digging equipment, blunt-force instruments, glass and plastic fragments, marks of tools used to gain access to locked premises or containers; cellular telephones and electronic communication devices, to include SIM cards, computers, and electronic storage media, digital imaging devices; infotainment system/vehicle electronics/GPS navigation devices; photographs or handwritten notes by, to, or from the victims, and male/female clothing and/or footwear; traces or bags of quicklime. The evidence will be collected and submitted to the Connecticut Department of Emergency Services and Public Protection Forensic Science Laboratory and/or other qualified law enforcement facility for physical examination, scientific testing, and forensic analysis.

“What are you hoping to find?” Tom asked. “Other than everything.” He tapped the search warrant.

“Shoes, basically.”

“All this for shoes?”

“Deck shoes,” Conor said, pointing at Tom’s feet. “With ridged soles. Like yours.”

“And the rest of what’s in the warrant? ‘Infotainment system’?” Tom asked.

“The Bensons have SiriusXM radios in each of their cars and on the boat, and the systems come with location services. Someone might turn off a cell phone or GPS but forget about their radio.”

“Don’t you already know the Sallie B’s cruise track?”

“We’re checking for anything we might have missed.”

“Is Benson under arrest?” Tom asked.

“No, not yet.”

“Will he be?” Tom asked, thinking of Gwen and how that would affect her.

“Depends on what we find. Possibly, though. Jen has teams on the way to his office and the Benson home right now.”

The house, Tom thought. It was nearly three thirty p.m., and unless she was still at school, Gwen would be there.

“Is it okay if I head over?” Tom asked. “To check on Gwen?”

“That would be great, actually,” Conor said. “I hate what she must be going through, and how much worse it will be if her father was involved.”

Tom drove straight to the house. Jen Miano hadn’t arrived yet. He parked on the street, not wanting to get boxed in by police vehicles. As he walked up the front sidewalk, he caught sight of Lydia Clarke and Gwen working in the garden on the side of the house. Maggie barked and raced toward him.

“Hey, little one,” he said, picking her up. The Yorkshire terrier squirmed in his arms and licked his face, and he had no doubt that she remembered her time with him and Jackie.

“Hello there,” Lydia said, surrounded by garden tools and flats of annuals—snapdragons, zinnias, cosmos, and other flowers like the ones Jackie bought to fill their window boxes.

“Hi, Tom,” Gwen said, doing her best to smile but unable to hide the sadness in her eyes.

“Look at that garden,” Tom said. “It’s really pretty.”

“Mom usually plants these,” Gwen said. “They’re her favorite summer flowers.”

“Well, they’re beautiful,” Tom said.

“She would like them,” Gwen said.