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An abundance of nature surrounded them. So when Mack Dolworth pulled his 1998 VWPassat wagon into the garage that first day of June after their long drive up the coast, the trio had no reason to suspect their plans would go off-track within the week.
Behind the wheel of her Range Rover, Brogan stared at the house and said aloud, “I just don’t get it. Was it a random murder by a psycho, or were the Dolworths targeted?”
“Targeted would mean the killer knew they’d be here. Maybe the goal was to kidnap Elliott.”
“With the parents dead, there would be no chance of a ransom,” Brogan pointed out.
“Maybe ransom wasn’t the plan,” Lucien muttered from the passenger seat. “The topography has completely changed since 2001. For one thing, the woods aren’t as thick. In 2001, the killer could easily have used the trees as his approach from the rear. Ten years ago, the Forest Service cut back most of the undergrowth nearest the house as a firebreak precaution in case of wildfire.”
“That’s sad,” Brogan murmured, hugging Stella and Poppy a little tighter. “But a hard reality of living in a drought-prone area.” She looked up and down the quiet street and pointed back toward the corner. “A few sycamores and live oaks are still standing along the curb.”
“The forest didn’t completely go away. It just looks different, not like it did when the Dolworths were here. I checked Google Earth. According to photos, developers built this neighborhood in the middle of a full-on forest preserve that still belongs to the state of California.” Lucien shifted in his seat. “Let me see that police report again.”
Brogan picked up the file folder and shuffled through the documents before handing off the official report. She waited for him to peruse each line of information. “What is it?”
“That’s what doesn’t make sense. The cops on the scene didn’t know anything about the missing paperboy until later that afternoon. Only when Trey Rescher’s mother went looking for him did law enforcement realize they had another missing person. How was the paperboy part of this when he wouldn’t have reached this spot until five-thirty a.m.? The caretaker found the Dolworths dead in the kitchen shortly after seven. That’s when he made the 911 call. For Trey to have killed them, the teen would’ve had to jump off his bike at five-thirty, get inside the house, do the deed, and disappear with the kid, then be gone by the time the caretaker got here at seven o’clock.”
“That’s still an hour and a half window. A lot of time.”
“Even for an inexperienced kid? Trey would have had to morph into one motivated killer. Fast. And what happened to Trey’s bicycle? Did he use it to take off with the three-year-old? The report doesn’t say anything about ever locating the bike. How far could a teenager get with a toddler on a bike?”
“Not very far. Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting? You think Trey might’ve tried tosaveElliott from the killer and the killer caught up with both of them?”
“That’s my bias. I think Trey happened upon a nasty scene that morning. He spotted Elliott trying to get away and tried to save the little boy. It’s as good of an explanation as any. Open mind, remember? You didn’t want Trey to be the killer anyway.”
“It would mean the killer drove a large enough vehicle to get Trey’s bike to fit in a trunk or in the back of an SUV because he couldn’t leave it. But why couldn’t he leave it?”
“That’s a good question. The obvious answer is Trey saw the killer. The killer got rid of the witness. I’m leaning toward a targeted hit. But why?”
“Getting inside the crime scene might not be easy. Believe it or not, this place is booked solid until Labor Day,” Brogan muttered as she balanced her laptop on her knees, allowing the lid to rest on the steering wheel. She glanced up the street toward the gated house. After using the calendar to click on each date from the listing, she grumbled, “If we intend to get inside, I need to book it now for the Tuesday through Monday slot after Labor Day. That’s the only available timeframe. This Airbnb is a hot property.”
“Does that even make sense, though? If it’s not the same house on the inside, what’s the point of booking it? And it has been twenty-plus years since the Dolworths were here. What’s the value of looking around inside or staying here?”
“Only to get a firsthand look at the layout. Renovations or not, it’s still the spot where a double murder occurred. But you’re right. I don’t think there’s a benefit to renting it, even for a couple of days. Not that they would do that. The listing is very specific—book for a week or not at all—pay the six grand and leave early. Who would do that?”
Lucien shook his head. “Have I ever mentioned how much I hate those Airbnbs and how inflexible the rules are?”
“Since when? You used to love the idea of staying in a new place. I wish we’d brought the binoculars. What kind of detectives leave the house without a pair of field glasses?”
“Which is why we need to get to the county clerk’s office before they leave for lunch.”
Brogan took the hint and stepped on the gas, shooting a U in the middle of the block. “I’m not exactly in a hurry to get there. I don’t particularly like going into county offices. The clerks invariably always have snotty attitudes. They seem totally disinterested in whatever job they have. They’re either waiting to go on break or leaving for the day. And when they are behind their desks, they act like they’re on a power trip.”
Lucien chuckled. “Says the woman who failed her first eye test at the DMV. I remember the guy behind the counter had zero sympathy.”
“My point exactly. He knew I was freaking out and laughed at me anyway. I was sixteen.”
“I see how that experience may have jaded your opinion about all county workers.”
“Yeah, well, getting our marriage license wasn’t a breeze, either. Remember that fiasco?”
“That’s because you let your driver’s license expire.”
“I told you I’d been busy. My father had just died. I told the clerk that. You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” she countered as she kept her eyes trained on the road. “Something tells me this appointment will go about like all the others. Do we have all the paperwork completed we need?”
“No. Not even close. You might be right. This could be a waste of time. We’re still short almost all of the requirements. We haven’t been working as investigators for three years. And we don’t have six thousand hours of investigative work experience under our belts or anyone to verify that we do. Yet.”
“Then one of us will need to sign up for law school or take classes in police science.”
