Broken Loch: The Carin Trimble Mysteries, #1

By R. C. Ducantlin

Detective Carin Trimble is on a quest to untangle a web of hints left by her late mother. As she delves deeper, she confronts a dark mystery that will unveil the intricate tapestry of their family's past — a revelation poised to shatter everything they thought they knew.

 

Set in a sleepy town in Minnesota, the story revolves around Carin Trimble as she probes Marble Grove's dark secrets. The story unfolds with engaging characters, complex relationships, and a web of dark secrets. An intelligent and intricate small-town mystery that will keep readers hooked until the very last page.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R C Ducantlin, Ltd.
• Release date: Apr 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9781949211887

Book preview

Prologue

I miss my dreams. I don’t remember having nightmares. I reminisce about vivid adventures. My mind created sweet stories to keep me happy. I’d wake up with bright, imaginative tales in my head. When I was younger, my dreams were about boys, and girls, living somewhere other than in the desolation of the Texas Panhandle. When I got older, after I joined the Marines, my dreams changed.

I dreamt about training, fighting, and winning firefights. In boot camp, I began dreaming about the sadness of losing someone close. My mind told me some of the people I was training with would not make it. Our operational deployments were scheduled for the end of training, and the Marines never say no. Too many of us received assignments to companies surrounded by sand and angry people. Locals have been fighting invaders, and their own, for two thousand years, which makes the indigenous people wrathful. Sadly, my Marines were not going to change the history of the native people.

Hoorah.

I don’t know when the dreams stopped, not exactly. It was sometime after the firefight. I was Sergeant Carin M. Trimble, Military Police, reporting as ordered. All Marines are soldiers with a weapon — including me. I mainly stayed on base because of my duty assignment. I was fortunate — no recon missions for me. During my posting in the desert highlands, there were a few minor skirmishes and one big firefight. I am not telling the truth. My counselor says I should always admit when I am not honest.

There were firefights when sappers tried to test our resolve. I remember the details of only one fight.

The specifics are simple. Sergeant Carin Trimble let Corporal Janet Longmyer die. I allowed my friend to get torn in half by a Kalashnikov. Fucking 7.62x39mm cartridges fired from an AK-47 on semi-auto. Forty bullets per minute killed my friend.

The Psych people said there was nothing I could do. PTSD, they said. They said Janet signed up just like the rest of us, and she accepted the risk. She knew it was her duty.

Duty.

Hoorah.

Is it a duty to die in a place with no name? Is it our duty to die in agony, nearly cut in half, while arresting a Marine who died strung out on heroin? A marine so high he didn’t feel a thing when the bullet hit him in the face?

I don’t dream anymore — Janet won’t let me.

Chapter One

Three Months Ago

Are you sure? Don’t play games.

Mari, Ash, and Carin are drinking at the Purple Duck to celebrate Mari’s acceptance into the forensics program. Her name is Miriam Leilani Cochran — everyone calls her Mari. A stint as a medic in the Army focused the intelligent Mari’s mind. Ash and Mari are a solid team of first responders and are comfortable with each other. Their camaraderie extends to Detective Carin Trimble, who fits well in the tight group. Mari is tall with dark hair and bright eyes. She sipped beer before repeating what she had just told the younger man.

I’m serious. Junie is going to ride with you. You’re going to be the new lead. It’s time to man up. No more waiting for someone to give you an order. Before you ask, Junie talked the right people into what she called an internship. Her goal is to complete an online criminology degree and apply to the department. She plans to do as many things as possible related to becoming a detective. Carin has influenced Junie, and she is trying to shortcut the process by working at the PD in different roles and as a first responder. Hence, Junie is your new partner.

Mari is a decade younger than Carin. They bonded over the shared history of Carin being a Marine and Mari being an Army grunt. Ash is a few years younger and many years behind Mari in terms of life experience.

The honey skin tone of being bi-racial accentuates Ash’s fit and athletic physique. Both EMTs work at staying fit, and Ash’s smile matches Mari’s. His smile hides his fear of becoming the lead. Nevertheless, pushing his shyness aside, a perpetual sunniness oozes from Ash, who struggles to look at his friends when speaking about their history.

Working with you has been a trip. Mari, thank you for everything. Working with Junie is going to be a whole new level of nutty. I didn’t tell y’all. I’m going back to school, too. I start classes in a couple of weeks.

Carin is happy to let her friends, both former lovers, chat. Nearly a year into her new role, the detective is surprised by how close she has become with Mari and Ash. The two sitting with her are the only true friends Carin has made since she was discharged from the Marines a decade earlier. The Honorable Discharge came with vivid dreams and a diagnosis of PTSD. Her nature, which she is working on softening, forces her to ask questions that others would let slide. Correcting the often-annoying personality trait is a work in progress — no details go unquestioned.

School? Where? Ash, this is good news.

Mostly online at Minnesota State. It’s a business focus, with one day a week in class at the State Campus in Burnyville.

Mari, Ash and I are happy for you, and congrats again on being accepted into the program. Ash, you too. I have a long day tomorrow. I took care of the check. Carin rises, pulling her coat from the back of the high-top chair.

Carin, wait. You didn’t tell us how it went with Todd. Mari is trying, again, to get the dirt on Carin’s evolving personal life.

That’s not until Sunday, so tough beans to you.

With pride in not gossiping about her time with Todd Davison and his family, Carin walks away with a smile — happy knowing she has friends.

Two Months Ago

Carin sits inside the café, beside the window, at her favorite table. She remembers how warm and happy she felt at Sunday dinner with Todd and his family. Sipping the new herbal tea Melba insisted she try, Carin uses her phone to read Harold McCreedy’s cover story on the Marble Grove Gazette website. It is a pleasure to read the story, and her contentment deepens with Harold’s words.

The local reporter has written enough truth to be reasonable, and nothing in the story makes Carin look incompetent about finding the ‘suicides’ in the local swimming hole. Water testing confirms that the Old Quarry is a safe place to swim, and the fish stocking will continue. The state and county are discussing investing in improvements to Old Quarry Park and Old Quarry Road. Deep in thought about Marble Grove and this afternoon’s second Davison family Sunday dinner, Carin is surprised to hear her name.

Carin?

Emily, hello. I’m sorry, I was reading and daydreaming.

I can see that. I wanted to talk to you privately.

Carin waits, knowing the conversation will either be positive or terribly painful. Carin’s detective’s mind takes in the moment. Emily is a patrol officer in the Marble Grove PD but is not working. Her jeans, heavy boots, and a thick sweater protect against the cold, gray day. With her hair pulled tight into a ponytail, the tips of Emily’s ears are pink from the cold.

Sure, what’s up? Please, sit?

No, thank you. I won’t stay long. I know what you did and why you requested me for security when Garrett Morris killed himself. Xena Morris told me why Garrett left the money for my sister and me. My adoptive parents are coming around to me knowing the truth. They’re starting to accept me learning about my birth mother — Xena. I can’t call her Mom.

Carin catches Emily’s shift in tone from bright and friendly to a tinge of sadness but decides to remain silent. The detective is not offended when the young officer switches to her police voice.

Xena will not name our father. My parents know the family that adopted Elisa, my twin sister, and will talk to them about getting together. I hope so. You know, people are weird about things.

Choking back the mix of joy and pain, Emily continues in an everyday voice.

Truth, even painful truth, is positive in the end. Thank you.

I didn’t do much. You did the hard part.

Hard part? Emily raises an eyebrow, waiting for Carin’s response.

Learning the truth about family can be hard. I suspect accepting the reality of your life is difficult. All families are fruitcakes. Some are nuttier than others, but all are a little fruity.

Holy crap-oly. The way you said, family. It triggered a memory. I am sure I remember meeting a girl when I was little. I think there are family friends with a girl named Elisa. I remember a day. I remember a birthday party.

Do you? Carin tries but fails to keep the smile off her face.

You knew?

I don’t know anything. Don’t you know? They call me Detective-Know-Nothing.

Yeah, whatever. Thank you for everything. I have some calls to make.

In her head, already planning to visit her adoptive parents, Emily doesn’t notice the grin threatening to break Carin’s face. While the door closes behind Emily, Melba says something over the bell’s tinkling.

What’s that, Melba?

I asked, what are you going to do about Kendel Oensted?

One Month Ago

Ash has grown into the role and loves being the senior EMT and driving the response vehicle. Helping people is high on his list of things that give him an appreciation for being alive. The young man knows teaching is his calling, and coaching the inexperienced Junie is a big reason he continues to enjoy the job. Without the educational component of the job, Ash knows he would not be able to continue seeing the pain and sorrow that come with the responsibility of being a first responder.

Maybe a teaching degree.

What’s that, Ash?

Not taking his eyes off the road, Ash’s voice is soft. Much more than a traditional ambulance, the vehicle is equipped to respond to a wide range of emergencies — including search and rescue calls. Ash drives the beast with caution but is willing to chat.

Sorry, I was thinking out loud. My coursework is for a business degree. I want to help minority-owned small businesses. Working with you has me thinking about teaching.

You’d be a terrific teacher. Business pays more. Junie is far to Ash’s right in the large cab but is close enough to reach across and gently poke Ash in the ribs — to annoy him.

Come on, Ash, let me drive.

No, not until you pass the test for the CDL.

Why do I need a commercial driver’s license? I drove my Uncle Todd’s work trucks when I was fourteen. If I can drive a front-loader — I can drive this monster.

At five-three, one hundred pounds, and newly twenty-three years old, Junie always surprises people with her abilities. Her mouse-colored hair, always in a ponytail, reaches below her collar and compliments her clean and efficient attire. After graduating with two degrees at twenty-one, the intelligent woman does not often accept no for an answer. Nor is she willing to compromise her life’s goals.

Ash catches Junie in the corner of his eye. She is checking, for the third time this hour, that her hair scrunchy is correct. Turning back to the yellow road line racing by on his left, Ash puts on his teacher’s hat.

You need the CDL because it’s a requirement for your job by the insurance companies. Now stop asking. Come on, Junie, you know the drill. Let’s start again. Patient assessment and management with trauma, what is the first thing you do on arrival at the scene?

Junie gazed at the snow-covered trees sliding by her window and recited the checklist verbatim.

One, determine if the scene or situation is safe. Two, determine how the injury occurred or the nature of the illness. Third, confirm the number of patients. Fourth, request additional assistance if necessary. Five, consider stabilization of the spine.

Good. Then what?

Start talking.

"They call it ‘Verbalizing the General Impressions.’ Verbalizing won’t be an issue for you."

Whatever. Let’s talk about when you helped transport Bobby LeClare’s body.

What?

You heard me.

No.

Ash refuses to look anywhere but at the road, and Junie doesn’t give up.

I know that you know something. Mari told me before she left that you were pale when you returned to the house with the gurney.

Look at me. Do you think it’s possible for me to be pale?

Ha. Funny. You do have a good look about you. I like the honey skin tone. They sell a blush in your color.

Ash glances sideways, accepts Junie’s smirk of good-natured fun, and returns to driving.

I wasn’t pale.

What were you?

I was thinking.

Thinking about what?

About why Marg Lyttle would be giving a thumbs-up to Kendel Oensted as he drove by the scene.

Three Weeks Ago

Call for help. I’ll climb down and check the car.

Ash ignores Junie’s order and stares into the ravine from the seat of the response vehicle — thinking to himself.

This is where those high school kids drove off the road. They lived. I think this is where Robert LeClare died when the road washed out.

The duo answered the call for someone having a seizure at Quarry Park. Junie and Ash had to stop on Old Quarry Road. The switchback had washed out, forcing Ash to halt short of the park. There might be enough room to pass. Hesitating, he didn’t want to risk the response vehicle sliding into the ravine. Before Ash stops the vehicle, Junie is standing at the road’s edge, about to step into the descent. After climbing out of the truck to examine the road for passage, Ash turned to Junie, who was pointing into the canyon. She questioned her partner’s thousand-mile stare.

Ash, are you okay? Go back and get on the radio and get us some help.

Is that her car?

Yes, now get us some help.

Ash moves backward toward the response vehicle but keeps looking into the ravine until the edge of the gravel road blocks his view of the car that has rolled down the gorge. Junie climbs into the valley — sliding downward from tree to tree to keep from tumbling into the canyon. She arrives at the car out of breath, with fresh scratches on her face and arms from the low branches. Junie fears looking into the vehicle that is upside down and wrapped against a tree.

The rookie First Responder catches her breath and looks at the upside-down three-pointed star on the car’s trunk. Junie begins talking to herself to slow the growing fear.

Three points. One for land, one for sea, and the third for air. The places Mercedes-Benz thought they would dominate.

Junie?

She hollers back without looking uphill at her partner.

Hold on.

Using the car as an anchor, from the rear, she inches toward the uphill passenger side door and the scene she hopes she does not find. Junie bends to peer inside the upside-down car. The blood is the first thing she notices.

It’s her. Get the litter and the ropes ready.

Is she alive?

Craning her neck to look up, holding on to the car’s underside, Junie changes her tone to a voice that issues command and authority — both come naturally to the fireball.

Ash, get the litter out of the truck. Get the ropes ready. We are going to need help pulling her up the hill.

Junie?

Ash, please. We need the portable gurney and ropes.

Ash sucks a breath. The wanna-be teacher pushes the fear out of his mind before turning and complying. To Ash, it feels like a dream or living in a daze because his friend, a woman he has been intimate with, is pinned upside down in a car.

At the ravine’s edge, staring down, holding the litter and ropes, struggling to breathe, Ash fears the answer Junie is refusing to give. It takes the newbie responder nearly a minute to move to the driver’s downhill side and prepare to look inside the car. For Junie, the minute feels like a lifetime. She disappears from Ash’s view behind the turned-over car.

Junie?

She’s alive but hurt badly. We can’t wait for help.

Looking across the overturned car, uphill toward the road, Junie glares at Ash, who is holding the portable litter and staring at the car.

Ash, I see a lot of blood. Strap a med kit to the litter. Tie off the litter and use a tree as a pully.

His mental fog is worsening. Ash is struggling to comprehend that someone close to him may be dying. Finally, using strength he did not know he possessed, Ash moves. Junie leans into the vehicle and begins assessing how to release the seatbelt without the victim dropping onto her head or herself. Junie decides to check the door locks.

Moving back to the passenger side, turning over, climbing through the broken window, and trying to avoid the pooling blood, she reaches across the victim and pulls the door lock button. Hearing the doors unlock is a tiny victory that causes her to smile. Slithering out and inching back to the driver’s side, she notices Ash has the litter almost halfway to her and the victim. Talking to herself in a low voice pushes the fear from the newbie’s mind.

"Ash is a stud. First Responder may not be the best career choice