Playing Dead_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [79]
“Hi, Phin,” she answered. “You work fast.”
“Not fast enough.”
“What?”
“There is no coroner’s report on those homicides.”
“What?” She sounded like a parrot.
“It’s gone.”
“How?”
“Good question. There’s no way it can just disappear. If someone requests the report, we make a copy. It’s kept in a digital file. It’s easy to print a certified copy. The original backup reports are also digital, and a paper copy is kept off-site. The digital file is the easiest to access, and it’s not there. I checked our internal records to make sure the case numbers matched. There’s a gap in the numerical file. They were erased, or they were never archived electronically.”
“How is that possible?”
“Hell if I know. I’m not a computer nerd. But I’ve never once heard of a missing report. Then I called the warehouse and asked them to pull up the original paper copies. Lied through my teeth, saying they were needed ASAP for an appeal case.”
“And?”
“They’re not there.”
“Could they have been misfiled?”
“I’m having the archive supervisor research it personally, but I swear, Claire, I’ve never encountered a problem like this. Both the digital and the paper files missing? It’s like they never existed. What did you want to know about the bodies anyway?”
Claire was still absorbing the information. Missing coroner’s reports on both her mother and Taverton. “Bullet trajectory. I wanted to see at what angle and distance the bullets were fired.”
“Why?”
“Information. I don’t know exactly why, but because they were missing from the case files, I became curious. Now I’m more curious.”
“You and me both. I’ll let you know what I find out, but don’t hold your breath.”
“Thanks, Phin.”
She hung up and dialed Janice Krause. It was no coincidence that both her mother’s and Chase Taverton’s autopsy reports were gone. What was in them that didn’t come out at the trial? How could they disappear with no one being the wiser?
“Hello?”
Claire had almost forgotten she’d called Taverton’s sister. “Mrs. Krause?”
“Yes? Who’s this?”
“Claire O’Brien, with Rogan-Caruso Protective Services. I’m an investigator looking into the death of a law student from UC Davis.” She spoke fast, hoping Mrs. Krause wasn’t taking good notes.
“I don’t understand.”
“According to my interviews, Oliver Maddox, the deceased, had met with you earlier this year—in December or early January—regarding the personal calendar of your late brother, Chase Taverton.”
There was a long pause. “What does—I’m confused. Are you saying Mr. Maddox died?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m sorry. He was a nice young man. But what does this have to do with my brother? Chase was killed fifteen years ago.”
“According to Mr. Maddox’s notes, he retrieved Mr. Taverton’s calendar from you. Correct?”
“I gave him a copy, yes. I didn’t even know I had it, but when he called and asked if I had any of Chase’s personal effects, I recalled several boxes my mother had in her possession before she died in 2001. He came to my house and went through them.”
“You made him a copy of the journal? Do you still have the original?”
“No.”
“No?” Claire repeated, stunned.
“A couple months ago, someone from the district attorney’s office called and said they needed the boxes.”
“The D.A.? Do you remember who you spoke with?”
“No.”
Claire’s heart fell.
“Hold on a minute.” Claire heard the phone being put down. Then a long minute later, Mrs. Krause came back on the phone. “I found it. The receipt.”
“Receipt for the material?”
“Yes. I remembered that a police officer came by and picked up the boxes.” She paused.
“What was his name?”
“It’s not on the receipt. Just an illegible signature. It’s on Sacramento County Superior Court letterhead, though. Received three boxes, personal possessions D.D.A. Taverton.”
“When?”
“January 21. It was the third Monday, I remember, because I was running late to my bunco game.”
Claire thanked her and hung up. That was no coincidence.
Oliver Maddox had a copy of Chase Taverton’s personal calendar, and he died on January 20. Less than