Leann Harris - Guarded Secrets

“What’s that?” Detective Sandoval asked.

“Her ex had been threatened.”

Detective Littledeer motioned Lilly toward the kitchen table as the crime-scene people arrived and started taking prints. “Is there anything you can think of that your ex-husband was involved with that was risky?”

Lilly tried to come up with something suspect that Peter could’ve been involved with. “I really don’t know of anything. After we divorced, he started drinking and running around. He’d show up sporadically at the house and want to see Penny, and then he would disappear again for six months.

“About four years ago, he found a job and seemed to straighten up his life. He saw Penny regularly and paid his child support. Eighteen months ago, he started coming to church again and gave his life to Christ. He seemed very happy until—”

“Until when?” Detective Littledeer quizzed.

“It was last April. I remember when because it was right after tax time. He’d glanced at my tax return and got a funny look on his face. He turned to me and gave me that warning.”

Detective Sandoval walked into the kitchen and sat down next to Detective Littledeer. “The evidence team’s finding lots of prints.”

“How will you know if they are Pete’s or someone else’s?” asked Lilly.

The detectives looked at each other. Detective Littledeer met her eyes. “Your husband’s prints are on file.”

She paled.

“It was a drunk driving charge from four years ago,” he explained.

Lilly wondered if they were telling her everything. “Is that all?”

“Also, the company he was working for at the time of his death requires prints of all its employees,” Detective Sandoval added.

Frowning, Lilly asked, “Why would they do that?”

“Armored car personnel have to have their prints on file,” Detective Littledeer explained.

“We’ll also need your fingerprints,” Detective Sandoval added.

Her heart raced. “Why?”

Detective Littledeer frowned at his partner, but he turned to her. “Simply as a process of elimination. Also, bring your daughter with you so she can be fingerprinted. You can tell her that it is just a precaution. Schools now like to have the kids fingerprinted.”

He didn’t say why, but Lilly knew the sad reality of missing children. One of the women who worked with her at the church and the community garden had a child who’d gone missing.

“I’ll bring Penny by tomorrow and we both can have our prints taken.”

“What’s going on here?”

They looked up and saw a man standing in the doorway. In his early fifties, he stood with a military preciseness and his hair was cut in a burr.

“And you are?” Detective Littledeer asked.

“Mark Rodgers, the owner and manager of these apartments.” He glanced around the room. “What happened here?”

After informing the owner who they were and why they were there, Detective Littledeer asked, “Did anyone ask to see this apartment in recent days?”

“No. No one has been by to ask anything. Since Mr. Burkstrom’s lease was up at the end of the month, I wanted this place cleaned out so I could paint and recarpet. He bought a new condo off of Rio Grande Boulevard.”

“When was the last time you were in this apartment?” Detective Sandoval asked.

“I came by when this lady here got her husband’s clothes. I told her then when the lease was up.” The owner looked around at the mess. “This place wasn’t this way the last time I was here.”

“Did you see someone leave here in the last half hour?” Detective Littledeer asked.

“No. I just got back from a trip into Santa Fe. When I saw all the cop cars parked out front, I came up to see what was wrong.” He continued to look around. “You say it was a break-in?”

They nodded.

“I’ll keep an eye out. I don’t want my tenants put in any danger.” The owner shook his head. “When am I going to be able to rent this place?”

Both detectives glared at the man. He backed up and raised his hand. “Hey, I’ll give the lady until the end of the month.” He disappeared out the door.

The detectives turned to her. “How did you get in here?” Detective Sandoval asked.

“My daughter has a key. When I got Peter’s things from the cops, his car keys and his house key weren’t among them. His wallet was also missing,” said Lilly.

Detective Littledeer’s eyes darkened. “I’ll go back over the incident report and see if I can locate those keys.”

“Detectives, we’re done here,” one of the evidence techs informed them.

“I can now go through Pete’s things?” asked Lilly.

“You can. If you find anything you think would shed light on what happened, call.” Detective Littledeer gave her his business card.

“Thanks,” she said as the detectives filed out the door behind the techs.

Once alone in the apartment, Lilly scanned the mess. “Oh, Lord, what was Peter into?”

After spending a few hours trying to restore order in Peter’s apartment, Lilly drove to her little house a block from San Mateo Street Community Church. Having a job so close to home was a blessing because Penny could walk to the church after school and help her with the garden. She was the secretary, manager and community gardener for their parish. The garden had started with the pastor wanting to reach out to the community. They’d only had a few of the church ladies help with the planting that first year. Since then it had taken off. This season they’d tripled the amount they harvested from the garden.

She hit the remote for the garage door and waited for the door to open. She would be sure to gather some flowers from her garden to thank Allison for keeping Penny overnight. Allison would probably spoil both the girls with hot-fudge sundaes and let them stay up until nine-thirty. Penny needed spoiling. It had been a rough week for both of them. Once school started next week, hopefully life could return to some semblance of normal. Lilly had hoped the time Penny spent with her would reassure her daughter that she wouldn’t leave, too.

Lilly had called her parents in Florida, letting them know what had happened. Her dad hadn’t been too sympathetic. Her father never forgave Peter for abandoning his daughter.

Gathering her purse, she got out of the car. She’d boxed Peter’s shoes, clothes and dishes. She could give some of the things to several needy families in the church. Opening the door that led into the kitchen, she put her purse on the table and flipped on the light.

She gasped as she looked at the mess in her kitchen. Someone had been in here, searching for…what?

Grabbing her purse, she looked for Jonathan Littledeer’s business card. She found it and dialed the number.

“Littledeer.”

“Detective, this is Lilly Burkstrom. I just walked into my house. It looks like my husband’s apartment wasn’t the only place ransacked.”

“Your house was broken into?”

“Yes.”

A crash from the bedroom made her gasp.

“Lilly.”

“I heard something.”

“Get out. Go next door and call 911.”

She turned and ran out the garage.

T he instant he hung up with Lilly Burkstrom, Jonathan Littledeer called his partner and told him about the incident.

“I can be there in fifteen minutes,” Dave told him.

“No.” Jon had been reluctant to contact his partner since Dave was celebrating his twins’ tenth birthday. “Today is your daughters’ birthday. Do not leave that party. If there’s anything significant, I’ll let you know.”

Dave didn’t reply. They both knew the reason why Jon wasn’t celebrating with the Sandoval family. Jon had lost both of his daughters to a rare genetic disorder—Niemann-Pick disease type C. Both Jon and his wife, Roberta, carried the recessive gene. No one had known the children had the disease until the oldest, Wendy, was two and a half. Rose had been born just a few months before Wendy got sick. She had run a high temperature and had her first seizure. When she had a second seizure after recovering from the fever, the doctors were stumped. It took a while before they were able to determine what was happening. Wendy’s body eventually wasted away and she died two days before her fourth birthday. A month after they buried Wendy, Rose had her first seizure. She died much quicker. She suffered for only thirteen months. The day they buried his sweet Rose, Jon’s wife went home after the funeral and took too many sleeping pills. Jon buried his wife one week after his youngest daughter was laid to rest.