Justice for Stacey: A Sally Nimitz Mystery (Book 8)

By MaryJo Dawson

A work crew for a telecommunications company is having a routine day digging ground to lay new cable – until the backhoe uncovers human remains. The supervisor of the crew is Sally Nimitz’ fiancé, George Thomas.
Three years earlier a rebellious seventeen year old girl ran away from home to go to California with her boyfriend. It doesn’t take long to establish one of the two sets of bones unearthed are hers.
Will the local authorities find out what happened? Stacey’s family have their doubts. Sally, George, and the third member of their sleuthing team are asked to make sure they do.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elderberry Press
• Release date: Oct 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005720391

MaryJo Dawson

MaryJo Dawson had a long and satisfying career as a nurse, most of it specialized in Obstetrics. She's lived in several states and one country abroad, but has settled happily in a small town in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains with her husband, Bill.Always a lover of mysteries, biographies, and history, but especially fond of the British mystery authors of the mid-twentieth century, she set out to write a mystery series of her own using these as her role models. There are currently five Sally Nimitz mysteries in print, the latest released in June of 2015. The books reflect the author's own enjoyment of a good story based in solid values, yet realistic, and fun.When not pondering a new adventure for Sally, there is time for family, friends, flowers, hikes, and the used bookstore.

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Justice for Stacey

Sally Nimitz Mystery Book 8

by

MaryJo Dawson

Justice for Stacey

Copyright © 2020 MaryJo Dawson

Published by MaryJo Dawson

Also published in e-book form by Elderberry Press

Published in the United States of America

Distributed by Smashwords

Cover Design by Bill Dawson

Ebook formatting by ebooklaunch.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

This book is written in ‘American’ English, so there may be some differences in spelling to other international forms of English.

This book is a work of fiction and all characters are fictitious or are portrayed fictitiously.

Also by MaryJo Dawson

The Death of Amelia Marsh

(First Sally Nimitz Mystery)

The Disappearance of Douglas White

(Second Sally Nimitz Mystery)

The Strange Situation at Emlee

(Third Sally Nimitz Mystery)

The Truth About Charlie

(Fourth Sally Nimitz Mystery)

Did Lucy Bedford Have to Die?

(Fifth Sally Nimitz Mystery)

Ending the Varney Curse

(Sixth Sally Nimitz Mystery)

Who Was Nathan Spencer?

(Seventh Sally Nimitz Mystery)

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Epilogue

Chapter One

This is as close as I’ve ever gotten to helping a daughter plan her wedding, Anne Carey said, her eyes alive with the anticipation. And almost certain to be the only chance I’ll ever get.

It was impossible to argue with that. My octogenarian friend had never married, never had children of her own. She was the beloved aunt to several nieces and nephews and an equal number of great-nieces and nephews, but all of them had a mother figure of their own for bridal consultation.

My own mother was a few years younger than Anne, alive and reasonably well. But she lived a couple of thousand miles away and she had no inclination to assist me, nor did I wish her to. My mother had been a trial when I got married the first time, and it was a relief to have her in Arizona and out of the picture as plans got underway for my second walk down the aisle. If Anne wanted to take the role it suited me fine.

The idea is to have a simple affair, I reminded her. Nothing too elaborate.

Anne was not deflated. Just perfect for my age and capabilities. Let me see those pictures again.

Four photos of four different dresses were laid out on my kitchen table for her perusal. These were my final choices from the catalogs I’d looked through, and in my opinion all suited the small ceremony and reception George and I wanted. George’s son, Robin, had gotten married only weeks earlier, and it was tempting to wear the nice dress I had purchased for his wedding. George had been fine with that, but Anne, my daughter Janelle, and my daughter-in-law Judy, had all objected. I bowed to the majority and for two weeks did a search for another. I had forgotten that getting married – like most things in life – was not just about the people who were directly involved. Unless you secretly eloped your close friends and family had opinions about the process, and as much as we could without relinquishing our most important wishes in the matter, George and I were both willing to oblige.

The lady sitting next to me, her head bent in total concentration as she scrutinized each choice, was one of my dearest friends. It made no difference at all that in years she was old enough to be my mother.

Choose two, I said. In case there’s a problem with one of them, like finding my size.

Don’t you have a preference? she asked in return.

Maybe, but let’s see what you pick.

I got up to check the casserole in the oven and glanced at the time. George thought he might get off a little early, as they won’t actually start laying cable until tomorrow. Guess that didn’t happen. It’s a good thing dinner isn’t ready yet.

Anne wasn’t listening. I sat back down, sipped my coffee, and let my mind go back to recap the amazing turn my life had taken since late August. Friends for years, both before and after the death of my husband Michael, George Thomas had been someone I could always count on. When he, Anne, and I became a team to look into the violent death of a lady named Amelia Marsh, it was Anne who coyly mentioned George had feelings for me that went deeper. But I wasn’t hearing it at the time. For one thing my grief over losing Michael was still too fresh.

To our surprise the three of us went on to become involved in more mysteries, and over the next few years George and my relationship remained close, but never turned romantic. George was a patient man and I still wasn’t ready. Suddenly, precipitated in our last case by a random bullet that actually grazed flesh, I saw George in a different light. The weeks since had been an eye opener for me, realizing it was possible to love like this again.

The dark blue with those cap sleeves, and the midi length maroon/ ivory combination.

The pronouncement drew me out of my contemplation.

I like the style of the dark blue, but what about the color? I’m not sure that shade is flattering to my skin type. The other is one of my choices.

Anne thought the blue would suit me fine, but we agreed the dark red with the ivory lace swirl pattern through the skirt and down the sleeves would be first choice. The ladies’ clothing company that featured the dark red dress boasted customer service twelve hours a day, seven days a week. It was not yet 7 p.m. in their time zone so I went right to the telephone. The customer service representative on the other end assured me it would arrive with time to spare, and quoted me a price slightly under the one listed in the catalog.

May all the rest of this go as well, I said. The first two hurtles had now gone better than hoped for. Because the guest list was only about twenty people we didn’t need a large reception area, and a small dining annex at the Hanley Hotel in our small town’s historic district met our needs perfectly. The date of our ceremony was encroaching upon the beginning of the Christmas party season, so booking anything that required a larger group would have been about impossible.

We went on to discuss the guest list, and when the timer on the oven went off we set the table.

Where is that guy? I asked. Now that he’s got me hooked he’s going to start being late?

Anne grinned but made no comment. Five minutes later we heard George’s pickup truck pull up. He didn’t have a key but he knew the door would be unlocked. Unconsciously I must have been expecting him to saunter in looking weary and apologetic. And although he hadn’t had time to change his shirt and looked like a man who had been working outdoors all day, what drew my attention was the odd expression on his face. Something was going on.

When we heard him arrive Anne and I both walked into the living room to greet him. Without saying anything he greeted us each with a hug. I also got a kiss on the side of my temple.

Everything all right? I tried to sound casual.

As right as it can be when you think you’re minding your own business digging a hole and come up with human bones.

He got a reaction as he knew he would, but after giving him a startled look Anne said mildly, You wouldn’t be teasing us about something like that, would you dear?

Never, he promised. It shook me up, shook us all up, but I’m still hungry. Can I tell my story over dinner?

It’s ready. Wash up and we’ll dish up.

It was customary for each of us to bring something to our three-way dinner dates, but since George was late and walked in empty-handed, I thought the shock of unearthing human remains made him forget his contribution. Not so.

I would have been here fifteen minutes ago but I stopped at the deli at the supermarket, he called out from the bathroom. It’s on the passenger seat, sorry, forgot to bring it in.

Five minutes later, but over thirty minutes later than planned, we sat down to our meal. The casserole was forgiving and the rolls were quite fresh. No harm done. Anne’s pudding was chilling in the refrigerator.

Hungry he might be but George was dying to spill the beans, and only a few bites into his meal he elaborated on his first loaded statement.

Maybe after dealing with people who get themselves killed for so long, there’s something in the air that puts a person – in this case me – at the scene of such things.

A theory that has come up before but has never been subjected to research, I responded. Out with it. What happened today?

He finished chewing, swallowed, and said, You won’t believe it. We could hardly believe it ourselves. We had to do some unexpected digging to detour around where we intended to lay a portion of the cable – never mind why. We were about ten feet further from the road than we planned to be and circumventing some trees with the backhoe. It was a miracle Floyd didn’t toss up more of the bones. He noticed one in the loader, so before dumping the dirt he called out and asked me if I’d check it out. It looked like a long leg bone. Charlie was with me, and said, ‘What the hell? That looks like a human bone.’ Floyd got off the machine and seeing something was going on, Al stopped measuring and walked over to take a look. We all thought it looked like a human leg bone so I had the boys get a shovel so we could poke around more gently. We knew enough to be careful but a little more digging and we saw more, plus bits of clothing and some sort of heavy plastic. We’ve all watched enough crime shows to know better than to mess around too much; we stopped right there.

I hesitate to get too specific while we’re eating, I said, but did you see a skull?

The crew had not, but before they left the site a skull had been unearthed.

We lingered long over our food, because George was determined to eat as well as share his story, and both of his listeners wanted to hear all the details. As site supervisor it was George who used the radio communication in his company truck to notify the home office, who in turn called the county sheriff’s department. Meanwhile his crew stepped away from what might be a crime scene and waited for law enforcement to arrive. It was now questionable as to when the rest of the communications cable would be laid. Within the hour the entire area was cordoned off by yellow tape and all four men were separately questioned as to what happened.

They seemed satisfied with what we told them, George thought. But we were detained there for over two hours while more people showed up, a lot of them wanting to hear what we had to say first hand. That’s why I’m late, because we had to go back to the office after that. But it wasn’t all bad.

You got to stick around and hear some of what was going on, I guessed.

Exactly. They were hard at it when we were told we could and should leave, but it was clear they were finding a lot of bones and were already sure of one thing: there were at least two bodies buried there.

George also observed bits of clothing being carefully collected, and what he thought was a belt.

This all sounds very suspicious, doesn’t it? Anne voiced.

That’s what the law thinks, too, George said. And so did we. Why bury people out there with no marker? This is no ancient Indian burial site.

Please, God, let this not be some burial ground for a serial killer or something, I said devoutly. I don’t suppose you heard anyone verbalize a guess as to who these unfortunates were?

George gave me a regretful look. Sorry, no. The land there isn’t too far from a road so it’s pretty unlikely some psychopath made a habit of digging there. You recollect anyone who went missing awhile back?

None of us could think of anyone. But if only the skeletal remains are left, these deaths happened sometime ago, I pointed out. And it’s over fifty miles from here. None of us have any family or close friends out that way.

It might be on the news tonight at 10, George said. But it’s too soon for them to know very much to release to the press. Maybe by tomorrow night.

I totally agreed it should be headline news. There’s definitely a story here for the media.

Anne nodded. And not a happy one, you can be sure about that. It is always the saddest to me when you hear of bodies never being identified.

Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to happen in this case, I said. Maybe it’s the location, because there’s more than one, I don’t know, just a feeling. DNA testing is improving all the time.

We both know your hunches are worth listening to, George said generously, with a glance in Anne’s direction.

Just so, she agreed. Sometimes I’ve wanted you to be wrong but this is not one of those times. There might be people out there who have missing loved ones and need some closure.

Anne and George both lingered so we could watch the evening local news together. It was top story but told us nothing we didn’t already know, except the remains being uncovered indicated two bodies who, by what personal effects had not deteriorated and could be identified, appeared to have been quite young.

The night was cool but clear. Miss Carey lived in the same housing area I did and not too far away, but since it was dark George and I both decided to walk her home. We had covered some other subject matter after dinner, including our matrimonial plans. Now as we sauntered slowly back to his truck we were content to say nothing at all.

He held me close for a moment, kissed me, and only when opening the door to climb in said, You’re working the next two nights? That’s what’s on my calendar.

I verified it. Will I see you on Sunday after I get up?

He grinned. You couldn’t keep me away. Call me when you’re out of bed and feeling human. Maybe we can take a drive if the weather holds and see some fall colors before it gets dark.

Why George Thomas, I said mockingly. That sounds rather romantic.

I’m finding out there’s still a romantic side to my nature, he said smugly, before shutting the door and driving away.

Chapter Two

All three of us paid close attention to news media to learn more about the bodies uncovered along a country road in rural Indiana. By Friday evening, which was over twenty-four hours after the initial discovery, the state and local news said the two bodies had been tentatively identified, but this information was being withheld until complete verification and notification of the families of the victims. The anchorman also said the deaths were highly suspicious in nature.

I was working twelve-hour night shifts on the obstetrics unit at Hanley General Hospital, but caught that report before leaving my house. We were too busy Thursday night for much private conversation, even if some of the others were aware of the discovery. But the next day there were several discharges and one of the sick babies was transferred out to a higher level of care. The unit had calmed down, but even if it had not the staff would have been buzzing with the story. It was obvious the minute I entered the nurse’s change room. The names of the two people whose bones George and his crew had been the first to discover was still being withheld from the public, but as I was changing into my scrubs two of my fellow nurses were quite sure they knew who at least one of them was. There were seven of us scheduled to go on duty and five now present in the locker room to hear the scuttlebutt. Lois Johnson and Berniece Landry were the two nurses doing the talking.

I do remember her, Lois was saying as I walked in and opened my locker, her tone indicating she had just put a face with a name. She was a teenager, kind of cute, a little on the chunky side, but with an attitude. Social services got involved, that’s why it sticks in my mind.

That’s her, Berniece said positively. Almost four years ago. She had just turned seventeen and she disappeared a few months later.

Are you talking about the bodies they found east of here? Brie looked up from tying her shoes. You guys knew one of them? Brie was a pretty brunette who had been with us only a year.

Berniece nodded. I know who she is. My husband has kin out that way and he knows the girl’s grandparents.

Berniece and her husband Desmond had been married for only a few years, a second marriage for her and a first for him. Another co-worker and good friend of mine, Emma Schultz, had given her a wedding shower. At the time both Emma and I were single, too. Who would have guessed then that Emma would re-marry her ex-husband and I would now be engaged? Neither Emma nor myself had been looking to find someone; on the contrary we had been content with our lot.

The good-natured nursery nurse was elaborating. Desmond says they’ve had a lot of hard times in that family. Poor health, financial problems, kids that caused them lots of grief, it’s really sad.

How do they know it’s her? another interested listener asked, sitting on the long bench to put on her working shoes.

A deputy at the sheriff’s department called and asked Florie – that’s the grandmother – if she and any other close family could come down to look at some of the personal effects. That was this morning. Florie is a neighbor to Desmond’s mother and she called and asked if Earline would take her. Florie’s car isn’t running and she couldn’t get a hold of anybody else right away. They showed her jewelry that Florie said definitely belonged to Stacey.

The room was unusually quiet, not even another locker slammed as all five of us listened soberly. Geez, Brie said the only word spoken.

Nurse number six walked in, saw us all congregated around Berniece, the looks on our faces, and said blandly, Somebody die?

Two some bodies, I said. What about the other one? Did the grandmother have any idea about that?

Bodies? The newest addition to our group’s jaw dropped. Brie took her aside to explain.

It could be the guy they thought she ran off with. It is a male, they’re sure about that, but Florie couldn’t help them much with positively identifying him, although she had a pretty good idea who it was.

The day shift would be getting antsy pretty soon if we didn’t come out to relieve them, so not much more was said before we dispersed to our assigned areas on the unit. But twelve hours is a long time, the night stayed calm, and there was quite a bit more discussion and speculation about the deceased young woman. Her name was Stacey Groom.

People think of birthing units as happy places and essentially that’s true. Even very dysfunctional families usually find joy and anticipation in the birth of a new baby. It’s a clean slate, so to speak, looking at that newborn. Lois – who was the delivery nurse with Stacey – recalled that some of the family had this positive outlook, although their situation was far from ideal. There was no father of the baby involved or even alluded to. The new mother was unusual in that she openly expressed little interest in her healthy little girl, and we all knew that even the women who turned out to be poor mothers later had maternal instincts that usually gave them an initial burst of accomplishment and pride.

She wasn’t like that, Lois recalled. I took care of her again the following night, and the nurse who gave me report noticed it too. She had already called in social services.

With all this refreshing of her memory, another of our number recalled who Stacey was. Stacey’s mother was all gaga about the baby, she said. But she had problems too, I think she was on drugs. Wasn’t the baby discharged to the care of the grandparents pending home visits and follow-up?

Both Stacey and the baby went home with Stacey’s grandparents, Berniece verified. Desmond’s mother told me that today. The Grooms practically raised Stacey, but they realized pretty fast Stacey wasn’t going to be much help and they’re too old to raise another child. Willis Groom got a bad head injury falling off a ladder and hasn’t been the same since. Anyway, the baby was taken by a first cousin and his wife. Then Stacey took off with a boyfriend, or so they thought.

Memories of this situation brought up some discussion of other patients who had big problems and presented the staff with special challenges. But no one else knew the Groom family personally so the subject matter waned after a while.

It came up again in the break room. I was relaxing by myself when Lois Johnson came in.

After warming her late night meal in the microwave she joined me and said without preamble, Here’s another mystery for you to get into, Sally, you and your friends. Her eyes glinted mischievously. Don’t tell me you haven’t been involved in something since you helped me out. I may not blab about it but I’ve noticed the signs.

Thank you for not blabbing, I said with a grin. But we don’t look for trouble. Someone has to invite us. This is what they call a cold case, right? We haven’t had any experience in that. With all of the exposure, this cold case should get plenty of attention from law agencies.

I sure hope so, she said. Stacey may have been a mess but she wasn’t much more than a kid. Mentally and emotionally, that’s just what she was.

Emma Schultz moved to Iowa after she got married again, but there were a couple of other co-workers I considered friends outside of the work environment and occasionally socialized with. Since Lois had asked me to help her younger sister out when she was in a jam, our friendship had progressed to that. Because she could be counted on to keep a confidence, I was tempted to let her be the first on the ward to know about my upcoming nuptials. But it was still a few weeks until the wedding and even Lois might let it slip.

One part of me wanted to announce the upcoming change in my life to the world, but another was hesitant. If the word got out on the birthing unit, where I had been a staff member now for several years, there would be tons of questions and the inevitable, are we invited? And they weren’t going to be, which would be awkward. The ceremony and reception after were restricted to immediate family and our closest friends. Someone might want to throw me a wedding shower or organize a pre-wedding celebration on the unit, as we had done for Berniece and Emma. I didn’t want one. That sounded churlish, even to me, but it was true.

Lois was looking at me curiously. What’s up? You suddenly seem far away.

I was. Sorry. More of an explanation seemed called for. Personal stuff. I’ll tell you about it later.

Not something bad, I hope?

No, not at all. Honest.

Glad to hear it, because if anything you seem really upbeat these days. She left it alone after that.

• • •

George picked me up Sunday afternoon at two, which gave us plenty of time for a drive before dark although it was now October.

Thought we’d head toward Hoosier National Forest, he said as we set out. I hear it’s pretty out there now.

Perfect. I beamed at him. The weather required a light cover or flannel shirt, but there was only light wind and the sun was shining brightly. Maybe we can even take a little hike.

A little one, he allowed. George wasn’t as keen on long walks as I was unless it was with a specific goal in mind, such as reaching a prime fishing spot or a deer blind.

He added as though it were a casual after-thought, It isn’t far out of the way to show you where we discovered those remains on Thursday.

It’s probably still all cordoned off with crime scene tape, but even so….. Yes, let’s go by there.

You couldn’t miss the tape barriers but there was no one, uniformed or otherwise, present to make sure they were respected. Of course we would do that, but George parked on the generous shoulder area of the roadside and we got out to take a closer look. There was no fencing or posting to indicate this was private land but George knew it was. The power and communications company had gotten legal permission from the owner to cross the land with cable in order to provide better communications service to the growing population of the area. He pointed out to me where it was necessary to detour from the planned route for laying the new cable.

The rest of the cable coming from the west is only about five feet in from the road, he explained. "Most of that is public land. But we hit a section of ground that is dense with rock, and we’d have to dynamite or something