Shattered Secrets: A Boyd County Murder Mystery

By Eliza Faith

Shattered Secrets, Murder, Mystery, Detective, Investigation, Small Town ,Art Theft, Twists and Turns, Evidence and Interrogations, Wit and Humor, Good Read, Novella Eliza Faith

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9781304687173

Book preview

Shattered Secrets

A Boyd County Murder Mystery

Eliza Faith

Eliza Faith Writes Publishing

Copyright © 2024 ElizaFaithWrites

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

                   ISBN::   978-1-304-68717-3

Imprint:: Lulu.com

Cover design by: Eliza Faith

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

Printed in the United States of America

In Loving Memory of my Mother and my Investigative Partner.

I Could Never Ask for Anyone Better to Go Sleuthing With.

You Caught Every Clue I Missed, Filled in Every Hole I had Left Open, and Found Every Overlooked Piece of Evidence Crucial to Solving Each Mystery.

The twists and turns of this treacherous path are nothing more than an intricate web of lies and deceit. A betrayal of seismic force that shatters my very foundation.

Eliza Faith

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Shattered Secrets

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Afterword

Shattered Secrets

A Boyd County Murder Mystery

Eliza Faith

Chapter One

I pulled a chair up in front of my captain's desk. Det. Lewis, he bellowed. His stomach rose and fell with each word. His shirt buttons were threatening to pop with every labored inhale. I couldn't stop staring at the button. It fell right where his belly button should be. Though I was rooting for the button to pop, I wasn't sure I wanted to see what would come through the separated pieces of fabric that would no longer securely hold him together.

Det. Lewis, he repeated, I have decided to put you on temporary paid suspension. It is just for two weeks. I don't want to hear any arguments about it. You have been acting erratic and responding as if this case is personal.

This pulled my attention away from the button to the one-way conversation I was part of. You say you are fine, but clearly you are not. I want you to rest, take some time, and return refreshed. You are one of the best detectives I've got here. I do not want you to throw your career away. It is impossible to control the outcome of these cases. The evidence leads us where it leads us, and sometimes, our suspect is uncooperative and even slippery. You know that. Please, go to lunch with your partner. Do not come back. He wasn't asking.

He stood up, indicating the conversation was over. I followed suit. Furious. I did not want to take time away. This was a terrible time for a vacation. I had a perp to catch, and I couldn't do it sitting at home, doing self-care.

Captain Valak opened the door for me. I mumbled a thank you, stormed to my desk, grabbed my backpack, and headed for the door. Halfway out the door, I realized I had forgotten to hand over my badge and service weapon. I, of course, made a show of crossing back over to him, relinquishing them, and left with an audience.

Det Susan Barkley grabbed her purse and chased me out the door. Well, what did he say? Susan and I had been partners for the past year and a half. Susan was ten years older than me, had been in the force six years longer, and was a detective for three of those years.

I had only been a detective for two years and her partner from the beginning of my investigative career. We had a great relationship. She acted like a mother, which could be rather annoying. I assumed that is how all girls felt about their mothers. I wouldn't know I didn't have one.

My mother was killed and left in a ditch like roadkill. Her body slumped in an ungraceful, unladylike heap, blood everywhere. I remember the lights flashing outside my home. Red, blue, red, blue, blue, white, blue, red. So many people came and went from our house that night.

I wandered around the house and yard, trying to figure out what was happening, but people kept patting my head, saying poor child, and wrapping me in a blanket. I wasn't cold; I was confused. So many people were talking at once; their voices became one harmonious hum, like a horde of bees. When someone finally told me straight out that my mother was dead, that really stung.

We walked two blocks to Stickman's Stick Foods and Shoestring Fries. It sat in the same spot every day, a fixture of that spot, adjacent to a small park with space to set up small card tables and chairs for people to sit and eat together.

Captain put me on mandatory paid suspension for two weeks. Pisses me off because how am I supposed to catch Hailey's killer lying around? It's not like I can do any real policing with no badge or gun to back me up.

This could be good. Have you thought about going and seeing your father? Susan looked up from her plate of fries smothered with cheese and bacon. One hand halfway to her mouth with a forkful of fries, the cheese dripping off them, leaving basically bare fries; she froze and waited for my answer.

Oh, you are serious? It had been years since I had been to Bristow, Nebraska. Once my mother was gone, it became a cold, empty house, no longer a home. I had gone to live with my grandparents on my mother's side in Los Angeles. I could, I said thoughtfully. You know, Hailey's case triggered some memories. Now, I am questioning myself about what was going on around me during the time my mother was killed. You know her case has been cold for eighteen years. There are things I didn't question back then because I was a kid. I didn't think anything of what I heard or saw, but now, looking back… I'm asking myself, what was really going on there?

I took a bite of my corn dog, ketchup, and mustard dripped onto my chin. You got a napkin? I am worried, though, that if I were to go home and dig into this, I might become obsessed with finding out what happened to my mother.

Susan handed me a napkin, and I wiped the condiments from my face before continuing. What if I can't let it go? What if I am not ready to come back? What would I do? It's my career and my life on one hand, and then it's my mother and closure on the other.

Why don't we worry about that bridge when it becomes necessary to cross it? Susan patted my hand to assure me all would be okay. Go home. I can let the captain know what you are doing if you want, or I can keep it to myself. I'll leave that for you to decide.

NO! Don't tell him, not yet anyway. If I find I need more time, but not yet. You can say I went home to see my father but don't tell him why I visited. Please.

Okay, Amelia, that's fine. This will stay between us until it becomes otherwise necessary to tell someone else, but please promise me you will stay in touch with me. I need to know you are okay and you make it there safely. Especially if you leave tonight, there are supposed to be storms coming in, so it will be a bit of a rough drive.

Susan and I finished our lunch, threw our trash away in the receptacle closest to the sidewalk in the direction we were heading, and made our way back to the precinct. Once there, she returned to work, and I went to my apartment to pack for my trip to Bristow.

I didn't feel much like going on a twenty-plus hour-long drive alone through the night, so instead of driving to Bristow, I booked a one-way ticket. I could figure out how I would get back to LA when I was ready to return. The flight was much more doable; it would be only 7 hours and 45 minutes with one stop at