Spiraled (Callahan & McLane Book 3) (17 page)

24

Mason knocked on the door of Tana Britton’s Eugene home and children’s voices immediately shouted. He glanced at Ray.

“She’s got three kids,” said Ray.

Mason nodded. After a review of the witness statements from the Eugene shooting, Tana’s had stood out as giving the best description of the shooter. Over the phone she’d agreed to talk to the investigators in her home. The door opened and the spicy scent of tacos touched his nose. His stomach rumbled, and he was thankful he and Ray had agreed to grab a late dinner after the interview. Tana had a baby on a hip and a larger child clinging to her leg. Down the hall behind her, a baby crawled as fast as he could toward the door, determined to join his mother. Mason looked from the baby on her hip to the baby on the floor.

“Yes, they’re twins,” Tana stated. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her brown eyes were surprisingly calm for those of a mother with three young children. The girl attached to Tana’s leg blinked at him with eyes identical to her mother’s. A mini-me. Tana glanced behind her to locate the other twin and then carefully stepped back. “Come in.”

Ray pointed at the boy on the floor. “Can I?” he asked Tana. She nodded.

He deftly scooped up the boy. “Hey, big guy.” The baby stared solemnly at him.

“That’s Lane. This is his sister Cora and the big sister, Ellie.”

Mason shoved his hands in his pockets. It’d been a while since he’d been around babies. He never knew what to do with one and didn’t feel the need to hold one. He was content with just looking. Babies harbored surprises. Usually the kind that made adults change their shirts. He followed Ray into a large family room. The rug was covered with toys and two swings took up way too much space. Mason perched on the couch next to Ray, who expertly balanced the baby on one knee. The baby continued to silently stare at Ray.

All Mason remembered about that baby’s age was his panic when Jake started to crawl. Suddenly everything in their home had become a potential threat.

Tana sat in an easy chair across from them and shifted Cora onto her lap. Ellie immediately squeezed herself into the tiny space left in the chair and eyed the investigators suspiciously. Cora grabbed at her mother’s tank top strap and pulled before Mason could look away. Tana snagged her strap and her daughter’s fist in time to avoid embarrassment all around. “Whoops.”

Mason pulled out Tana’s written statement from the Eugene shooting. “You were at the park really early that morning,” he said.

Tana nodded. “When I’ve got three kids who can’t sit still, getting in the car and going
anywhere
keeps me sane. They were all waking up at five
A.M.
during that month. I’m glad that’s over. This month they’ve been sleeping in until seven. Well, at least two of them have been.” She eyed the oldest, Ellie, who Mason estimated was close to four years old. “I know every park in the area and Green Lake is a good one. It’s got a huge sand area and even a clean water feature. It’s usually our first choice.” Her gaze dropped. “At least it used to be. We haven’t gone back since it happened.” She ran a hand over Ellie’s dark curls. “I don’t think the twins will remember, but Ellie sometimes talks about that day. I won’t go back because I’m afraid it will reinforce her memories. I want her to forget.” She gave Mason a weak smile. “Maybe next summer.”

He met Ellie’s gaze. Kids were sponges. How much did she still remember? Anger rolled through him at the thought of her terror. “Umm
. . .
maybe
 . . .
”

“Ellie, weren’t you watching Elmo?” Tana asked.

The child immediately slipped out of the chair and trotted down another hallway. “It’s on in our bedroom,” Tana explained. “When she’s watching she doesn’t hear a word I say. It’s almost scary.”

Elmo had been Jake’s favorite, too.

“Can you tell me what you remember from that day?” Mason scanned her statement as she talked, listening for any changes or inaccuracies. He hadn’t let her review the written statement, wanting her to freshly recall the incident. Her account matched what she’d written almost perfectly.

“You said he’d sat in the car in the parking lot for a while,” Ray stated. “How long would you estimate that time to be?”

Tana looked up at the ceiling, bouncing Cora on her knee as the baby started to squirm. “I remember wondering if he was talking on a cell phone. I couldn’t see one,” she quickly clarified. “But that’s what you expect is happening when someone parks and doesn’t get out. I don’t know the time. Maybe two or three minutes?”

“You were watching the car pretty closely?” Mason asked.

She shrugged. “I have three kids. Do you know what it’s like to have your attention divided into three sections? I don’t have much focus for anything else.” Her gaze narrowed at Mason. “But when you’re a mom, part of your senses are always on the lookout for trouble. I notice when unfamiliar people enter an area where my children are playing. I notice when dogs appear or vehicles arrive. My mind leaps ahead a hundred steps and sees all possible outcomes, and you can be damn sure I take action when I see one of those outcomes start to unfold.”

“So your radar went up with this vehicle?”

“A little bit. I could see movement in the car, like someone was leaning over the backseat, and wondered if the person was getting a kid ready.”

Wiping it down.
They’d received word that the only prints on the vehicle had been around the trunk and the rear doors. The entire front seat area had been thoroughly wiped down, along with most of the backseat.

“Then he stepped out with that gun and I saw he’d put on a mask, so I went into action.” Tana closed her eyes. “Cora and Lane were in the sand, two feet from me. I grabbed them and yelled for Ellie, who was over by a slide. She just turned and stared at me, so I ran to her.” Wet brown eyes opened and looked at Mason. “I had a twin on each hip, but I shoved them both into one arm and grabbed her hand and we dashed behind the castle. He was already shooting.”

Mason had studied park pictures that showed the castle, a solid structure that stood about four feet high with an opening for kids to crawl inside and peer out through narrow slits of windows. The castle was about fifty feet from the restrooms. He doubted it would have stopped a bullet.

“The screams
 . . .
” Tana looked away and tears dripped from her cheeks onto Cora’s shoulder. She wiped them off.

Mason leaned forward. “You must have been terrified for your children.”

“You have no idea.”

I have a bit of an idea.

“I want you to think about when the shooting stopped. You said you heard a man yell that the shooter had shot himself. You got a good look at him?”

Tana brushed at her cheeks and swallowed. “I did. I looked around the corner when I heard him shout. The shooting had stopped.”

“What was he wearing?” Mason prodded carefully.

The mother frowned. “Shorts. Tank top. A hat.”

“Like a baseball cap?” Ray asked.

“Yes. I can’t recall the color. Something dark. Dark longer hair, too. Like just touched his shoulders.”

“Was he skinny? Short? Fat?” questioned Ray.

“Tall,” Tana said. “Narrow build. Long arms. He was holding them up as he ran like he was surrendering. I remember being relieved when I saw him because he seemed so assured that the shooter was down.”

“What did he do next?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I turned back to my kids and stayed behind the castle for at least a good minute. I couldn’t move; I was absolutely frozen. All I could do was hang on to my babies. If the shooter had walked around the castle at that minute, we’d all be dead.” She took a shuddering breath. “I was able to react and get them out of the way at the right time. But as soon as I heard it was over, I couldn’t do a thing.”

“That’s pretty normal for a stressful situation,” Mason said. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Yes, I followed up with my pediatrician because I was concerned that Ellie would need to talk with someone. The doctor saw that I needed help and put me in touch with someone.” She gave a shaky smile. “Ellie’s been fine. No behavior issues at all. I’m the one that’s a wreck.”

“Did you see the man with the cap afterward?” Mason asked.

Tana thought. “No. I don’t think so. My memory is crystal-clear up to where he shouted that the shooter shot himself and then after that it’s all a blur.”

“Anything else you remember about the shouting man?” asked Mason.

“He was wearing a backpack.”

Mason exchanged a look with Ray.
He carried away the black clothing.

25

Her phone rang through her car speakers as Ava whipped into the parking garage at Oregon Health & Science University. She hit the button on her wheel and flinched as her voice shook as she answered the phone. She’d had thirty minutes to stress over Jayne’s condition on the drive to the hospital, and she’d nearly run through two red lights.

“Ava? This is Charlene. I’m sorry I missed your call yesterday.”

The manager at Jayne’s halfway house.

“Did you hear about Jayne? What happened to her?”

“No.” Charlene’s voice sharpened. “What are you talking about?”

Ava hit her brakes as she nearly rear-ended a sedan backing out of a parking space. The sound of her pounding heart filled her car. She waited and snagged the space. She turned off her car and leaned her head against her headrest. “I had a call thirty minutes ago. It sounds like Jayne attempted suicide. They took her to OHSU. I just got here.”

“What?” The manager let out a string of curses that made Ava’s ears burn. “She’s been gone all day. She was here for check-in last night, but took off at daybreak this morning. I’m sorry, Ava. She was doing so well—”

“I know!” Ava exclaimed. “My calls with her—”

“—until yesterday,” Charlene finished.

Ava caught her breath. “What happened yesterday?”

“She was in quite a state. Ranting and picking arguments with two of the other girls. Twice I had to fine her for abusive language. I was going to call you if she didn’t straighten out. First she was gone all afternoon and then she was on a tear last night.”

“She called me yesterday afternoon. She’d gone to our old place and was furious that we’d moved and not told her.” Ava closed her eyes.

“Oh, Ava.” Charlene’s voice lowered. “That must have been a huge shock for her. All she does is talk about you.”

Ava’s guilt increased tenfold. “I need to go inside. A guy found her in Jefferson Park with bloody wrists.”

Charlene was silent for several seconds. “I didn’t see anything leading to this,” she said slowly. “She seemed so balanced lately.”

“I know. I felt the same way.”

“Please tell me what you find out,” Charlene said. “You realize she can’t return here. An incident like this is an automatic dismissal. I’m really sorry.”

She could hear the sincerity in Charlene’s tone. “I know. I appreciate all you’ve done for her.”

The call ended and Ava sat in the silent car. The pounding of her heart had returned to normal.
I don’t want to go inside.
She wanted to turn the car back on and leave. Drive home and read a book. The bottle of wine she’d bought last week dominated her thoughts.
Vodka would be faster.

She craved blissful nothingness.
Go home and let the doctors deal with Jayne.

Go inside and deal with the uproar. Stress. Paperwork. Where would Jayne go live now? Who would help her?

Sixty seconds ago her main purpose had been to get to Jayne and find out her condition.

Now she wanted to hide.

Jayne could be dead.
She paused, letting the thought sweep through her, analyzing and holding her breath as she waited for her reaction.

Nothing.

I’m numb.

Tears leaked down her cheeks. Had it come to this? Was she so damaged that the death of her twin would mean nothing? She started the car and placed it in reverse. Why had she driven all this way if she didn’t care? She looked over her shoulder and wiped her eyes, unable to see. She blinked and wiped again, unable to view any passing cars. She slumped in her seat and reluctantly turned off the car. She couldn’t drive—and she couldn’t go in.

Indecision froze her. She was powerless.

Mason.
More anxiety crippled her. She hadn’t called or texted him about Jayne, afraid to face his disappointment. Mason’s view on Jayne was clear: she messed with Ava’s head and was best avoided.

Call him.

She couldn’t do it. She didn’t want to hear how wrong she was to have driven to the hospital, to have given Jayne five minutes of her time.

I know he’s right.
She shouldn’t have come.

Ava dug her phone out of her purse and her fingers paused.
He’s in Eugene. He can’t get here for at least two hours.

She mashed her lips together—and called Zander.

26

Mason and Ray compared notes in his car. It’d been late by the time they left Tana Britton’s home, but they didn’t want to head back to Portland until they’d talked with the cousin of shooter Joe Albaugh.

“It looks like he’s the spokesperson for Albaugh’s family,” said Ray as he studied a file. “The parents wanted to stay out of the spotlight after Albaugh was announced as the shooter. Bill Albaugh was at the press conferences and kept reporters away from the immediate family.”

Mason understood perfectly. In an emotional time, having someone slightly removed to handle the public was a godsend.

“It’s late. Should we call him?” Ray asked.

“I don’t want to come back to Eugene. We hit our main goal of finding out about the backpack, which means that last male witness could have left with clothes and might be the real shooter. Now we need to find out who he is. I think finding the connection between the three shooters is the way to pinpoint our suspect.”

Ray nodded. “I know Shaver is shifting focus to the young men’s backgrounds to look for that connection. I think talking to the cousin would be a good start. Maybe he could pave the way for us to talk to the parents. The parents’ interviews from June don’t reveal a lot. The investigators thought they had the suspect so they were simply looking for the why. The parents didn’t know why he killed those people. Claimed Albaugh gave no sign.”

“He was the one with the headaches, right?”

“Yes. That’s the only odd thing the parents claimed was going on with their son.”

“But he didn’t live at home, so they couldn’t really know. I wonder how much they saw him.”

“This says the parents’ phone number has been disconnected,” Ray said, flipping file pages. “I bet the publicity was too much for them. Probably got tons of hate calls.”

“What’s the cousin’s number?” Mason asked. “And let’s not say a word about the mystery shooter.”

“Of course not,” said Ray. He read it off and Mason dialed. He connected to his car’s Bluetooth so Ray could hear. A male answered and Mason identified the two of them and asked if he was Bill Albaugh.

“Yes. I heard you’re taking another look at the shooting because of the recent shootings in Portland, right?” Bill asked.

“That’s correct,” said Mason. “We’re looking to see if there’s some sort of commonality between the three young men. We’re wondering if they knew each other.”

“Makes sense,” said Bill. “But that sounds awfully hard to pinpoint.”

“I assume you’ve been following the info on the latest shooting? The shooter was AJ Weiss. Did his name ring any bells for you?”

“Yes, I’m following the news. I’ve heard the name, and I saw the guy’s picture on TV. I didn’t recognize him. I asked Joe’s parents the same question once the name was made public. They hadn’t heard of him, either.”

“The number we have for his parents is disconnected,” said Ray. “Do you have a new one?”

“I do,” said Bill. “But I’m not giving it out until I talk to them about it. You have no idea how this has destroyed my uncle and his wife. There was a backlash from around the world. People are fucking crazy. What makes someone who lives in Tokyo feel they have the right to send them hate mail? It was clear my aunt and uncle had no idea what Joe was going to do. They didn’t beat him or emotionally cripple him. This was solely Joe’s action, but the public feels the need to berate and hate on the parents.”

Mason exchanged a look with Ray. The Internet had opened up instant access to the world, but too many people used it as an instrument of hate. “I’m sorry, Mr. Albaugh. I know exactly the type of people you’re talking about.”

“I was closer to Joe than anyone—he was only five years younger than me. He lived just a mile away all through his college years. I probably knew him better than his roommate.”

“Do you have any ideas about how he might have crossed paths with the two shooters from the Portland area?” Ray asked.

“Believe me, I’ve been thinking about it ever since the mall shooting. I just can’t see it. Joe never went up there. If he had friends in Portland, I didn’t know about it. The guy worked like sixty hours a week. He rarely took time off. I have to imagine they’re copycats.”

Mason bit his tongue, wishing the copycat theory were true. “How come he worked so much?”

Bill gave a harsh laugh. “He always had to have the latest and greatest electronics and toys. There was no filter with Joe when it came to spending; if he wanted it he bought it. He could never seem to catch up, though. He always was moaning about credit card bills. He worked those hours and picked up odd jobs so he could spend. He liked to buy stuff for people, too. Generous guy. Always had happy girlfriends.”

“What do you know about Joe’s headaches?” asked Ray.

“That they were driving him crazy.”

“How’d he manage to work so much if he was in pain?” Mason asked.

“He claimed work distracted him from the pain. Joe claimed it wasn’t a debilitating pain but more of a supreme annoyance. He’d learned to live with it.”

“He didn’t visit any doctors in the Portland area, did he?” Mason asked.

“Not that I’m aware of,” answered Bill.

“The list of specialists we got from his parents was all local,” Ray pointed out.

Mason nodded. He’d remembered that. But it didn’t mean Joe couldn’t have visited some off the list. They wouldn’t know unless they asked.

“Did he show an interest in gun clubs?” Mason asked. “I’m fishing a bit here, but what about white supremacy or domestic terrorism? We’re looking for anything that could shine some light on how these young men could know each other. And we’re still looking for a motive in all three shootings. People don’t do what these three men did without a motive.”

“I understand you have to ask shit like that,” Bill replied, his voice growing tight. “But I can tell you in all honesty that I’m not aware of anything like that. The police searched his apartment and took his computer. Wouldn’t they have found something there if that was true?”

Ray pointed at the file on his lap and then held up his hands, shaking his head.
All clear.

Mason wanted to swear. Joe Albaugh’s apartment had been cleaned out a few weeks after the shooting. He knew the parents had requested some of the items, while Lane County had kept others. A detailed list was in the file. He asked Ray for the list and looked it over while Ray asked Bill about Joe’s hobbies.

There is something here. I feel it.