The Last Sister (Columbia River)(25)

Greer turned the ignition. “The Osburne place isn’t very far from here.”

“I’ll follow.”



The sheriff’s Ford Explorer abruptly pulled onto the shoulder of the narrow road and slammed to a stop. Zander sucked in a breath as he hit the brakes and pulled in behind him.

Zander had been distracted, studying the homes along the two-lane highway. Maybe it was the bleak weather, but the properties scattered among the tall trees and brush had depressed him. Many held broken-down vehicles, rusted swing sets, and barns with giant holes in their roofs.

Greer stepped out of his vehicle, and Zander did the same. As far as he could see, they weren’t near a home or driveway. There were only trees.

The sheriff’s face was grim as he strode toward him, and the hair on the back of Zander’s neck rose.

“What happened?” Zander asked, his stomach sinking.

“Just got a call. One of my deputies shot himself this morning, so I need to go there first. The Osburnes will have to wait.”

“What?” Shock jangled through Zander’s nerves.

Greer crossed his arms and looked away. “It was Copeland,” he said through white lips.

Zander instantly placed the name. “Your deputy from yesterday morning. The one who took down Sean’s body.”

“He’s dead. My boys say he used his service weapon.”

Zander couldn’t speak. Is this related to the Fitch murders?

“I need to go.” The sheriff turned away, his shoulders stooped.

“I’m coming with you.”

Greer glanced back. “Thank you, but that’s not necessary.”

“Yesterday your deputy was the first officer at a crime scene that I’m investigating, and today he’s dead?” Zander held the sheriff’s gaze. “I’m coming.”

Greer stared. He looked as if he’d aged ten years since they’d talked at the pub. “Suit yourself,” he muttered.

He knows I have a point.

Zander climbed back in his vehicle and immediately called Ava.

Minutes later Zander parked behind the sheriff again. The Copeland home was in a small residential neighborhood full of cookie-cutter one-story homes on small lots with green grass. The street was crowded with law enforcement vehicles. Clatsop County, Astoria, City of Seaside, and even a state patrol vehicle. Officers stood in small groups in front of the home, and neighbors pressed against the caution tape, snapping pictures.

Ava’s SUV caught his eye. She was on her phone, pacing beside it. She had still been in downtown Bartonville, so she’d beaten them to the scene, and because Ava had interviewed Copeland yesterday, she knew where he lived. She hung up as Zander and Greer approached, her blue eyes somber.

“I updated the boss,” she told them. “And I was told the medical examiner went inside the home here a few moments ago.”

“Copeland was such a young kid,” muttered Greer.

“He was young. Do you think the murders got to him?” Ava asked. Her tone indicated she found it doubtful.

“How’d he seem when you talked to him yesterday?” Zander asked her.

“He was shook up and definitely upset, but I got the sense he wanted to see justice done for the couple.” Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t see an officer not wanting to live because of what he’d experienced.” She gestured at Greer. “But you knew him better.”

“I never saw or heard of any suicidal tendencies on his part,” said the sheriff. “But let’s get the facts first.”

Greer scanned the groups of waiting officers. They’d all stopped their conversations and were facing his way. Palpable pain radiated from them as they waited for their sheriff to do something, anything.

Zander knew the sheriff could do nothing to ease the grief.

“I want two officers to keep the civilians back from the tape,” Greer ordered the closest group. “Tell them to put their phones away. Have some respect.” He ducked under the tape and headed up the short walk. Zander and Ava followed. The three of them signed a log held by a deputy at the front door.

The deputy’s eyes were red and swollen, but he stood ramrod straight as they wrote down their names. The sheriff removed his hat and rested a hand briefly on the deputy’s shoulder. He gave a quick squeeze and nodded but didn’t speak.

Gratitude flickered in the deputy’s eyes.

The three of them passed through the front door, and Zander squared his shoulders to face another death scene.

The body was in the living room immediately to their right. Nate Copeland sat in a recliner, his feet on the raised footrest. The chair had been reclined back so far that it was almost flat. Copeland could have been taking a nap except for the blood caking his head and neck. A young Hispanic male bent over the body, doing something under Copeland’s raised shirt. He looked up at the trio.

“Hey, Sheriff.”

“Dr. Ruiz,” said Greer. “This is Special Agent Wells and Special Agent—”

“McLane,” said the young medical examiner, looking at Ava. “We met a while back. Or is it Special Agent Callahan now?”

“Not yet,” Ava answered. “The wedding is this summer.” She glanced at Zander. “Dr. Ruiz handled my DB on a case at the coast last fall.”

Dead body.