Murder Post Death: Clint Rugbee Mysteries, #3

By A.M. Holloway

Home invasions, unexplained murders, and an unstable 911 operator.

Detective Rugbee had never seen life so busy as everything bad descended on him at once. He and Bonner worked to solve the murder of a young girl, but without leads, that proved impossible.

Then the home invasions began, starting slow but then they grew in intensity. When a homeowner died during the attack, Rugbee and Bonner dropped everything to concentrate on the attacks. The citizens of Beachside deserved to be safe in their homes.  

During this investigation, Rugbee put Bonner's life on the line inadvertently when he hired an unstable 911 operator. The operator fixated on Bonner from the moment she met him. She held a gun to his head as he tried to talk her into lowering her gun. Tense moments followed as her finger pulled slightly on the trigger, clearly showing her intentions.

More murders occurred as Rugbee worked to handle the demands of his job. Finally, Jud helped the detectives break the case but not before the killer attacked Rugbee, leaving him for dead in the police department parking lot.

This is a white-knuckle race to the finish for all involved. Does Rugbee survive his injury so he can help arrest the killer or will he have to depend on his team?

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.M. Holloway
• Release date: Jan 30, 2024
• ISBN: 9781956648270

Book preview

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Prologue

The black limo pulled into the cemetery parking beside an open grave. People stood around in their dark-colored clothes, holding umbrellas above their heads as the rain drops fell. They watched as the family emerged from the car and strolled to the gravesite. No one spoke.

The family sat in tiny chairs in the first row so they could have the best view. Then the service began. A blond-haired girl sitting next to her mother watched the service, but she heard nothing. Instead, she inspected the crowd. Her eyes fell on a shadow lurking toward the back.

Every time she worked to see if she recognized this person, they shifted their location. Maybe it’s her nerves. Perhaps they’re not even there. After all, she was burying her younger brother.

After the service, the family returned to their house. It’s a modest two-story home on the outskirts of Beachside. The family moved here several years ago, thinking they could protect their kids from drugs and alcohol. The funeral proved that’s impossible.

Distant relatives dropped in on the family and gave their condolences, but nothing could make the blond-haired girl feel better. Her brother was still gone.

Days turned into weeks as the girl tried to find her new normal. Her only saving grace was since she was in her first year of college, she wouldn’t have to walk the halls of her old high school without her younger brother. That would be something she couldn’t do. Somehow, she had to stop feeling sorry for herself and get on with life, and that’s what she did.

She met a new guy at the coffee shop where she worked, and they hit it off at their first meeting. She spent hours with this guy at the shop, until one day, he turned dark. He offered no smiles or hugs. Instead, he grabbed her arm and forced her into her car.

The guy’s actions were so unexpected that she failed to scream. She watched his eyes as they darted from side to side. Her body trembled as wicked thoughts ran through her mind. She reached for the door handle, but he locked it.

She plucked her phone from her pocket, and he ripped it out of her hands. Then she realized there was no escaping this madman, so she struck him on the side of his head, hoping he would stop the car. But her actions only caused the guy to grunt and moan as he rubbed his head.

Time was running out, and she knew it. The girl turned in her seat and kicked the guy with both feet. The impact forced him into the door and window, dazing him and causing the car to leave the roadway.

When the car came to a rest, the girl checked her surroundings. She was unsure of her location because she failed to pay attention as they drove. The guy mumbled something, and the girl jumped into action. She reached across the guy, unlocked the car, and bolted. She landed in a swamp-like pond. When her sneakers sunk into the icky pond bottom, she grimaced. Who knew what swam in these waters?

Before she made it to the bank, the guy was on her, and now he was more furious than before. He bared his teeth at her but offered nothing. She asked, why are you doing this? She yearned to know why he picked her. Did he know her family just buried her bother?

Shut up! He fumed.

You were at my brother’s funeral! Who are you, and what do you want?

You’ll never know who I am, and I want you!

Seconds later, the guy watched the girl take her last breath as his hands circled her neck. But now he had a bigger problem. What was he supposed to do with a dead girl’s body and a wrecked car?

Chapter 1

I stepped outside into the crisp January morning air, turning my face to the sun. There’s nothing like living in the Florida sun. Something I never dreamed would happen.

Morning, Rugs, Ralph said in greeting as he swept the sidewalk.

Morning, Ralph. I’m heading to the office. Call me if you need anything.

You know I will. Ralph chuckled as he watched Rugbee climb into his unmarked police department SUV. He thanked God every night for that man. Not only did Rugbee save his life, but he also became his family.

When I glanced at my phone, I noticed the date and moaned. Ellery Finnegan’s parents would stop by today for an update, and I still had no information. I thought about taking today off, but that would prolong the conversation, and I wasn’t one to hide from unpleasant meetings.

As it turned out, the Finnegans waited for me in the lobby. Morning, Etta, morning Mr. and Mrs. Finnegan. Etta nodded while the Finnegans stood and followed me into my office.

Before I sat my coffee down on my desk, Mr. Finnegan asked the same question at every meeting. Any updates, Detective?

No, sir. There’s nothing so far. The file is still here, and I review it weekly and check the state and federal databases for any commonalities to other murders. My hand lay on the red file folder at the top of my inbox. I wasn’t lying. Everything I mentioned was the gospel. Detective Bonner also had the same file on his desk and the same picture of a young blond-haired girl named Ellery Finnegan.

The meeting lasted all of ten minutes. At the end of each visit, Mrs. Finnegan leaves the office, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. And I wonder how the Finnegans get through each day after losing two children within weeks of each other.  

Etta stood at my door after the Finnegans left. They break my heart. I can’t imagine the heartbreak. Etta shook her head.

Why does everyone look so sad? Chief Bray asked with a head tilt.

The Finnegan’s just left.

I can’t believe it’s been a month since their last visit. The months seem to pass more quickly these days. Bray added, then stepped away when her phone rang.

Etta left me alone in my office when Bonner entered. Morning, Rugbee. He said on his way to his office. But when I didn’t reply, he stopped and took two steps backward.

What’s wrong?

Ellery Finnegan. Her parents had just left for their monthly visit. Can we review the case again? I keep telling myself I’m missing something.

Sure. I’ll grab my file and coffee and be right there.

While Bonner was away, I opened the file, then I flipped the murder board so Ellery could stare at us. She was so young when she was murdered, and I still couldn’t figure out if she knew the killer.

Bonner entered the office a few minutes later with his red folder tucked under his arm. Have we checked the databases lately?

No, but I’ve added it to my list. In your opinion, do you think the killer has killed before, or was this a one-time thing? I asked.

Bonner tilted his head. I’ve given that some thought since our last conversation, and since someone moved the body, I think the killer has killed others before Ellery.

Let’s start from the beginning. I rattled off the timeline where Ellery went to work that morning but was never seen by another employee. They claimed when they got to the store, the back door was askew.

Do we agree that Ellery could have opened the back door? If so, it’s possible the killer snatched her from the store’s rear.

Bonner questioned, Could the killer have been inside the store when Ellery entered?

We investigated that earlier, and the crime scene tech found no trace evidence suggesting that idea. Emily found Ellery’s smudged fingerprints on the doorknob. That was the complete list of evidence from the store. Then we found Ellery’s car, crashed on the side of the road.

Bonner picked up the story. This is where things turned dicey. He flipped a page in his folder as he revisited the evidence. The driver's window had minute traces of blood and a strand of hair that proved unusable. Then we located Ellery’s body further down the road, leaning against a tree with her hands crossed in her lap, and obvious handprints and bruising around her neck.

I nodded as I recalled the same information. Bonner stopped speaking to look at me, clearly waiting for me to finish, just like we’ve done for the past six months. We should be able to recall each detail from memory. I added, The killer posed Ellery’s body after he killer her. Why? Is he sending law enforcement a message?

Bonner brought a book with him on profiling a killer. Several bright-colored sticky notes stuck out from the pages. He referenced the book on staging versus posing, and I agreed. They felt the killer posed the body because the girl’s shoe heals had signs of damage, like if someone dragged her along the road’s side before placing her next to the tree.

The detectives had no answer about the murder itself, whether the killer meant to kill Ellery or if she surprised the killer, which left him no choice.

I questioned the killer’s description of organized versus disorganized. For an organized kill, there are typically three crime scenes. The first scene is when the killer approaches the victim. The second is where the killer murders the victim, and then finally, the third scene is where the killer disposes of the victim’s body.

Bonner stated, I’m going with organized because we have three. We know the killer approached Ellery at the store, then killed her at the car crash site, finally posing her body further down the road.

Then I brought up a good point. But what if Ellery surprised the killer? She didn’t give him a way out without killing her. He didn’t take time to conceal the body when he had the opportunity, so he left her in the ditch partially submerged in swamp water.

Minor infraction. Everything else fits into the organized bucket. I think he was tired of dragging her down the road, and the posing was the first thing that came to mind. Think about it, Rugbee. How long could he drag a dead girl down the road without being seen?

I nodded when I considered Bonner’s statement. You’re right, Bonner. But even though we agree on that, we still have no suspects.

If the cameras had been working on that dreadful day, we would prepare for trial, not hunting for the killer, Bonner stated.

My desk phone rang, startling us. I answered, listening to Etta, and said, Send her in.

A petite, brunette young girl stood in the doorway. She eyed Bonner right off. Then she shifted to me. I stared at her because I couldn’t read her eyes. Then I wondered randomly to myself, What just came to her mind?

After introducing Marcella Bova to Bonner, I explained she was here to interview for a 911 dispatcher position. Bonner stood, shaking hands with the girl on his way to his office.

Marcella sat across from me, and I noticed how penetrating Marcella’s eyes were as I looked at her. I didn’t waste any time with the interview. She answered every question positively. While she lived in Melbourne, she would consider moving to Beachside if the job panned out. When I asked about her family, she stated, I don’t see how that’s pertinent to me being qualified for a job.

I never said it did, Marcella. We’re family here. I meant nothing by the question. But deep down, I questioned the girl’s intent. I gave her the standard line that their interviews continued for two more weeks, and I’d be in touch.

She reached her hand out, shaking my hand. I look forward to it, Detective. Then smiled at me as she glided to the front door.

Bray walked up behind me. How did you like her?

I jumped when she spoke. I didn’t know you were there. When I turned to face Maisie, she tilted her head.

What kind of expression is that, Clint?

I’m unsure. Marcella was charming, but something felt off. I can’t explain it.

Do you think she’d be a good fit for the 911 office? Chief Bray studied me as I struggled to answer.

I’ve no idea. I’ll see who else applies, and then I’ll schedule another interview with her. We still have three weeks until we open, right?

Yes, three weeks until we dispatch our calls instead of the county sheriff’s office doing it for us. I hope Toby knows what he’s doing with this expansion. Maisie said as she shook her head.

I added, with Beachside’s growth since he took the reins, it was only a matter of time before this would have happened anyway, so we might as well embrace it.

Etta called for me, so I walked to her desk. We have a lady on the phone that said two people just forced their way into her house.

I asked for her address. Notify an officer to meet me there. Then he turned to face Bray. Bonner. You’re with me.

Bray called after me, Let me know the outcome.

We trotted out the door. Now that we’ve moved into a larger building, we have an actual parking lot. It’s much easier than searching for a parking spot on the road’s side. Bonner questioned the caller, Why did she call the police department instead of 911? It seems 911 would have gotten a quicker response.

I don’t have that answer, but we’ll ask the caller. This address is in a nicer neighborhood, but there are nicer ones, too. I stated as I looked to the left before turning right onto the side road leading to the neighborhood.

The woman paced on her front porch, talking with Officer Kellon Finch. We joined the pair and found out the caller, Joan, was in the kitchen when two guys busted into the house through the front door. She heard the racket and went looking for the source. The guys had their hands on their TV when she yelled at them.

She grabbed the phone while yelling at them. As they raced past her, one guy reached out and struck her arm, causing her phone to fall to the floor. They never stopped running. She gave excellent descriptions of both guys. Apparently, the guys thought no one was home when they entered. Joan surprised them as they left empty-handed.

We gathered what information she could give us. Then I called the crime lab. It shocked me that Emily was on vacation, and Jud was taking her place. I’d never worked with Jud, but things changed.

Kellon, Bonner, and I inspected the area where Joan found the guys. Bonner noticed fingerprints. Hey guys, we might get a fingerprint here. I’ll mark it for the lab tech.

Minutes later, a guy of medium height with light brown hair walked onto the porch. Detective Rugbee. I’m Jud.

I reached out my hand and shook Jud’s, then Finch and Bonner followed. Nice to meet you.

Jud was plenty capable of taking care of himself. He looked like a tech guy, but he was muscled and maybe a few years younger than me. Tell me what we have here. He said as he looked around the house.

I introduced him to Joan. Then I gave him a synopsis of the event. Bonner pointed out the possible fingerprint. Jud shook his head. I think you might have something here, Detective Bonner.

Jud sat his case on the floor, then went about fingerprinting the TV and the top of the mantel. Then he searched the area around the TV, hoping for more. When he faced the group, he asked, Did the guys touch the front door or kick it open?

Joan shrugged her shoulders. The group walked to the door and inspected it for evidence. Officer Finch pointed to the dead bolt, It looks like they used a crowbar to open the door.

Jud leaned in for a closer look, then stepped back and took photos. Is there a crowbar in the yard? Sometimes criminals drop their heaviest items to make running faster.

I’ll check. Officer Finch replied.

Jud leaned into the detectives when he walked away. He’s a big one. Then he chuckled as he returned to the house.

Bonner and I snickered too. I asked, Do you think these were high school kids?

If I had to guess, yes, I’d say so.

Me too. We’ll wait for the fingerprint results, but if they have no criminal record, they won’t be in the system.

Bonner nodded. The high school principal is the same one I had. I’ll speak with him once we have enough information.

Finch walked back to the group, holding a crowbar in his gloved hand. Jud, this is for you. Good call on the yard.

Jud accepted the tool and placed it in an evidence bag. He glanced at the group. Joan, I’ve completed my inspection so that you may clean the residue now. I tried to be as neat as possible, but this dust scatters.

Thanks for coming so quickly. I wanted the Beachside Police Department to respond, and I didn’t know what would happen if I called 911.

Now they understood why she called the station. Right now, the sheriff’s office dispatches our 911 calls to officers inside Beachside, but in three weeks, we’ll have our dispatch department.

Really? Are you hiring? Joan asked.

Yes, we are. Forward your resume to my email address, and we’ll set up an interview. Call us if you need anything else, and we’ll be in touch on your home invasion. I shook her hand as we left her standing on the porch.

Bonner shared, What about that, Rugbee? We answer a call and walk away with a potential employee.

It caught my surprise, but I think she’d be good. Joan never lost her cool when the incident occurred. That would be a good quality to have if you’re handling emergencies.

Bonner nodded in agreement as their radio crackled. They moaned when they heard the call. Dispatch to Rugbee.

Rugbee, go ahead.

We have a report of a home invasion on 2354 Willow Way. An ambulance has been dispatched.

10-4. I dropped the radio while Bonner flipped the lights and sirens.

Officer Finch’s radio traffic followed. Rugbee. I’ve got one guy trapped in a neighbor’s yard.

10-4, ETA 60 seconds.

Bonner, radio for additional units. I’ll drop you with Finch while I check on the homeowner.

I skidded to a stop at Finch’s location. Bonner jumped out with his hand resting on his weapon. Rugbee continued around the corner, following the ambulance.

The homeowner lay on his sofa with a towel on his head. It looked like the criminals pistol-whipped the guy in the head.

I’m Detective Rugbee with the Beachside Police Department. Can you tell me what happened?

I’m Jacob Tetherton. I own this place. Two guys busted through the front door while I sat here watching a show. I guess I scared them because the one that came in first hit me over the head with something hard, then they left.

I grimaced when the EMT lifted the towel from Jacob’s head. The EMT explained the gash would need stitches, and he’d get a ride to the hospital.

Before they loaded Jacob onto the stretcher, I asked, Can you describe these guys, Jacob?

I nodded because I’d heard that description before. So, I had confirmation that these two kids were running around forcing their way into homes, regardless of the occupants.

As the homeowner lay on the gurney, I advised that I’d contact him later to discuss the incident. Then I called Jud because I’d like to know if the attackers used a crowbar on this house, too. But by the looks of the door, I already knew the answer.

I backed out of the drive as the ambulance left. Then I joined Bonner and Finch in search of the criminal. Bonner, Finch, come in.

Bonner. We’ve moved to the other side of the structure.

I joined the guys. Have you seen the guy?

Finch stated, I watched him enter the structure through the window on the other side. But I haven’t seen him exit.

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