The Silence (Columbia River #2)(30)

“I know. I mean, now I know. Back then I just thought she was mean.”

Would Jayne’s life have been different if she had received the proper help?

“I’m sorry, Ava.”

Ava didn’t answer. She usually hated when people felt sorry for her, but Zander was an exception because his sympathy was aimed at the past, not the present.

“Let’s go talk to that 7-Eleven clerk,” Ava said. “I’ll call the Clatsop County sheriff about David’s case on the way.”

Zander started his vehicle and put it in gear. “On it.”



Ava had been on hold in the car for five minutes before Clatsop County sheriff Greer picked up the line.

“Special Agent McLane!” The sheriff sounded genuinely pleased to hear from her. “I’ve been wondering about you. I hope you’re fully recovered?”

“I am. Thank you.” The truth was her shoulder and collarbone still ached, except for the areas that were numb. And she occasionally shuddered as she drove past men watching traffic as they stood on the side of the road. She’d been a vehicle passenger in the sheriff’s county when a killer shot at the car. If the shot had been a few inches higher, she’d be dead.

“And Agent Wells? How’s he doing since he persuaded Emily Mills to leave the coast? Their romance is still the talk of the county.”

Ava glanced at Zander behind the steering wheel. “Zander is fine. I don’t think anyone persuaded Emily. She does exactly what she wants.”

Zander nodded emphatically, his eyes on the road.

“I’m calling about the shooting in Seaside this morning.” Ava struggled to keep her tone even.

“Sad business,” said the sheriff. “The victim had a big family, and I’m hearing over and over how kind he was.”

Ava winced and struggled to align her words. “I know. He was my . . . father. But I didn’t know he existed until last fall. My mother never told us about him.”

The sheriff was silent for a long moment. “Well, now, that’s just horrible. I’m very sorry for your loss, Agent McLane. I had no idea he was your father.”

“My mother thought she was doing the right thing at the time.” Ava cleared her thickened throat. “What can you tell me about . . . the incident?” She couldn’t say murder. Not yet.

“I just got an update from the detective who caught the case. David Dressler left for a run around eight this morning. His family wasn’t sure of his route but believed he was headed south down the beach from the promenade.”

Ava knew the promenade was a central spot in Seaside, where the touristy Broadway Street met the beach.

“He was found by a couple of tourists in some taller vegetation.”

“Was he still in sight of the city homes along the beach? Or past the golf course?”

“The vegetation blocked him from any home’s view. And the golf course was further south.”

“Weapon?”

“Found a nine-millimeter casing. We’ll know more details after the lab looks at it.”

“His injury?” Her voice was hoarse.

“One shot to the temple. No stippling. No exit wound.”

Hopefully death was instantaneous.

“Witnesses?”

“None so far. Only the folks that found him. Medical examiner said he hadn’t been dead more than a few hours. We’ve been canvassing the area but haven’t found anyone who heard a shot.”

Did they use a suppressor? The roar of the ocean was loud, but not enough to muffle a gunshot.

“Anything else?”

“A report of an assault on a woman early that morning near a bakery shop not far from where he was found. We’ve requested the bakery’s video.”

Hope rose in Ava’s chest. “Did she give a description of who assaulted her?”

The sheriff sighed. “She hasn’t come forward. The bakery clerk reported it during our canvass. He saw them in front of his shop around eight a.m. He said the man slugged her in the face, making her drop to her knees.”

“Why didn’t the clerk report this earlier?”

“He claimed he had his phone in hand, ready to call it in, when the man helped the woman up and they walked away together, his arm around her shoulders. He said the woman didn’t appear to be coerced or fighting him off, so he let it go.”

“She was probably petrified that he’d hit her again if she fought back.”

“Could be,” agreed the sheriff. “My intuition says it’s not related, but it’s all we’ve got so far. Two violent acts that close together warrant some speculation in a small town of that size.”

“Agreed,” said Ava, trying to make the pieces fit together. They didn’t.

“We also had an early-morning home break-in about two blocks away from where your father was found.”

“Cameras?”

“Nothing caught on camera. The rental house was empty, and the alarm system went off after a window was broken. When the local police got there, it was all quiet. It appeared the alarm scared them off. This one feels like teenagers to me . . . or possibly someone homeless looking for a place to sleep.”

Ava didn’t know what to make of the break-in. It was another incident that didn’t seem to be related to her father’s death. “Um . . . where is the shooting victim being examined?”