A cold day for august, p.1
A Cold Day for August, page 1
A Cold Day for August
A Detective August Miller Series
Charles Prandy
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Copyright © 2020 by Charles Prandy
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All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
Created with Vellum
Contents
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
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Thanks
Other Books by Charles Prandy
Chapter One
Journal Entry #1
Looking back on it now, the hardest part was when I finally had to tear myself away from her empty, soulless eyes. Yes, the chase had been tiring, and my hands ached from pulling the rope tight around her neck, but I’d known all along it would go my way. She was a fighter, and she’d resisted with all of her strength, but I was stronger. When she went limp, I knelt down and smelled the warm saliva on her breath. She should’ve known better than to run, but I knew I’d definitely been clear about the consequences. I lowered my face even closer and asked a simple question that was too late for her to answer: why?
The woods were thick that night, and an overcast sky made it harder to see. Dry leaves crunched under my feet, and the tips of my fingers were numb from the bitter cold. I know the woods well but, in my desperation to find the other one, I tripped a couple of times over protruded tree roots, which made me concede that I wasn’t thinking clearly. Vapors of white mist hung in the air every time I exhaled. My eyesight continuously shifted back and forth as I began to wonder if I should just turn back and go the other way. Then, over the vibrant sound of my beating heart, I heard something; a slight whimper in the light wind. I quickened my steps, and that’s when I saw her in the distance, which caused me to stop.
My heartbeat skipped as I watched her maneuver around a fallen tree. Then she tripped. She didn’t know the woods like I do. When she stood up, she looked around sporadically, and I’m sure she was hoping that I hadn’t found her. But I had. That’s when the two of us caught sight of each other. Her eyes widened as mine narrowed. She screamed and took off running. I gave chase and caught up to her with minimal effort. I knocked her over and then wrapped the rope around her throat. I pulled with all of my strength until I heard the final spells of life leave her body. Once she was limp, I grabbed her feet and dragged her back home.
Chapter Two
December 21st
The emotion came out of nowhere. I wasn’t expecting to cry, but there I was; sitting in my car, holding a Starbucks cup with tears streaming down my cheeks. Someone walked by. I didn’t know if it was a man or a woman, but they paused and looked at me. I didn’t acknowledge them, so whoever it was continued walking. I couldn’t understand why I was crying so hard. Psychologically, of course, I understood, but not emotionally. I hadn’t cried this way for ten years, back when my fiancé had broken off our engagement for another woman. I’d loved him deeply, and he’d just dumped me as if I was a one-night stand whose name he didn’t even know. Fuck him.
I placed the cup in the cup holder and then slammed my open palm against the steering wheel. This can’t be happening again. I laid the back of my head against the headrest and finally took in a deep breath. After a few moments, the tears stopped falling. I closed my eyes, but a flood of horror ran through my mind, which made me quickly open them again.
“Corrine,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Minutes earlier, as I’d been walking back to my car from Starbucks, I’d gotten a call from dispatch informing me that a woman’s body had been found at Lake Needwood in Rockville, Maryland. Hearing the news had made me immediately stop in my tracks. My stomach had tightened, and I’d felt a little lightheaded. As a homicide detective, I was used to getting these kinds of calls, but when I’d heard that the body had been found at Lake Needwood, every horrible memory had come swarming back.
I finally gathered myself and dried my face with the sleeves of my coat. I looked into the rearview mirror and saw that my eyes were red and puffy. The light eyeliner that covered my lower eyelids was smeared across my upper cheeks. I took a few minutes to clean myself up before making my way to the lake.
The drive took fifteen minutes. The closer I got to the lake, the harder my heart pounded in my chest. I hadn’t been back there in nearly twenty years, but seeing the surrounding trees and landscape made it feel like I’d been there just yesterday. I parked within a fleet of squad cars. I followed the trail of cops to the lake, and it felt like every step took me further into the past. The musty smell of the lake water dragged me back and, for a moment, I wasn’t sure if I could continue. I might have turned around if not for a familiar voice calling my name.
“August!”
To my right, I saw my friend Mason Brady, a uniformed cop I’d known since the academy. A former marine a decade removed, Mason still looked like he could hike a klick with no problem.
I waved slightly, saying, “Hey, Mason.”
“You got the lead on this?”
“Yeah. How long you been here?”
“I was first on the scene.”
I nodded and looked towards the lake.
“So, what’ve we got?”
“Twenty-something Caucasian female.”
“Do we know how she died?”
“From the marks around her neck, looks like she was strangled.”
My breath escaped my body, my knees felt weak, and I stumbled back for a moment.
“August!” Mason said. He reached for my arm and steadied my balance. “You okay?”
“Sorry, yeah, I’m fine. Did you say ‘strangled’?”
The way he looked at me, it seemed like he might call the paramedics over to check me out, but I assured him that I was fine.
“Yeah, looks like strangulation.”
“Okay, let’s take a look at her.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I just need to catch my breath for a second.”
I took in a deep breath and then shook my shoulders to show Mason that I was fine.
“Okay, I’m good now.”
He led me to the young woman’s body, and I immediately felt sorry for her. She was between two bushes, and she was fully clothed. I knelt down and saw the red marks around her throat, concurring with Mason’s theory that she’d been strangled.
“Any ID?” I asked.
“Not so far.”
I looked at her hands and saw that there was no jewelry. Could she have been robbed? Most women her age wore some kind of jewelry, so it was a question that needed flushing out. As I looked over her lifeless body, I heard the cries from years ago passing through my memory, then Mason’s radio chirped, and a male voice said that they had found something.
I stood up and followed Mason about fifty feet to where a cop wearing gloves was holding a wallet.
“This was in the bush.”
I reached for the wallet and pulled out the driver’s license. I walked back to the woman and then looked at the ID.
“Beverly Cook,” I said.
There was another ID in the wallet for the University of Maryland, which was about a forty-five-minute drive from the scene.
“Fall semester just ended,” I said.
I looked at the driver’s license again and noted that the address wasn’t too far away. I joined the search team and looked around the area for another hour or so before deciding that I needed to leave and talk with the family. This was one of the hardest parts about being a detective; telling a family that one of their loved ones had been murdered, especially so close to Christmas.
Chapter Three
The day was cold, but I had to briefly open my window as I drove away from the lake to help clear my head. The wind whistled as it passed through the window’s slit, which kept it from being a silent ride. Today was the first day of winter, December 21st, four days away from Christmas, and so far, it felt like the coldest day of the year. Many of the houses I passed were decorated with Christmas lights and ornaments. I pictured families wearing Christmas sweaters, sitting around the tree telling Christmas stories. I exhaled deeply, thinking about what that kind of Christmas would have been like.
The GPS told me to turn right off of Xavier Street and that my destination was three hundred feet on the left. I parked against the curb and saw that there was a Christmas wreath on the front door. The house was probably full of Christmas spirit, and I felt like the Grinch who was about to take that spirit away. I rang the doorbell and waited a moment. My hands shook slightly, and I felt my breath quiver. My palms became a little moist, which usually happened when I had to bring a family this kind of news.
A middle-aged blonde woman opened the door. She wore a red apron dusted with remnants of flour. She wiped her hands with a paper towel, and the smell of freshly baked cookies suddenly filled my nostrils.
“Hi,” she said. “May I help you?”
“Mrs. Cook?”
“Yes,” she said with a smile.
I pulled out my detective’s badge and showed her my ID.
“I’m Detective August Miller with Montgomery County PD.”
Mrs. Cook’s smile suddenly went away.
“Is something wrong?”
“I’m afraid so, ma’am.”
Mrs. Cook stared into my eyes for a few seconds and then raised her right hand to her mouth. I’d seen this look before countless times, when a parent realized that their child was gone. It’s the look of shock, sorrow and denial, all at the same time.
“What kind of detective are you?”
I hesitated and then said, “Homicide, ma’am.”
Tears fell from those same eyes that stared at me. She shook her head back and forth as the realization of why I was there set in.
“Beverly?”
“I’m sorry, but yes.”
A deep moan erupted from within her body as she suddenly fell to the ground. She caught me off guard, and I wasn’t able to catch her.
“No! No! No!” she wailed.
I knelt next to her and put my arms around her shoulders.
“Please say it isn’t true,” she said.
I helped her up and walked her to the closest couch. I sat with her for nearly an hour and held her hands as she hunched over and cried into them, then I gently asked her questions that she wasn’t ready to answer. I found out that Beverly had only been home from school for about a week. She’d been catching up with friends over the past few days and had been planning to spend the previous night at the house of her childhood friend, Amanda Price. I immediately wondered if Beverly had actually met with her friend and, if so, where Amanda was now.
“Mrs. Cook, have you heard from Amanda?”
“No,” she said through sobs.
Red flags and question marks suddenly formed in my mind. I wanted to continue to console her, but something in the back of my mind told me to quickly reach out to Amanda and her family. I asked Mrs. Cook for Amanda’s contact information and details on some of Beverly’s other friends. As she wrote them down, I asked her if there was anyone that she wanted me to call to come be with her, but she shook her head no, even as she sat sobbing on her couch.
“I’ll be in contact, Mrs. Cook. Again, I’m truly sorry.”
I let myself out and urgently began trying to reach Amanda Price.
Chapter Four
As soon as I sat in my car, I dialed the number that Mrs. Cook had given me. The phone rang four times and then went to voicemail, with Amanda’s voice saying that she was unable to get to her phone and to leave a message. I left a message telling Amanda who I was and that she needed to call me right away. My voice was rushed and a little harsh, but that was okay because I wanted Amanda to understand the urgency and call me back.
I put the address that Mrs. Cook had given me for Amanda’s family’s home into my GPS, which said that it was nearly four miles away. I drove a little faster than normal, hoping that someone there could tell me where Amanda was. The neighborhood resembled the Cooks’ neighborhood, with many houses covered in Christmas decorations. The GPS led me to a house, but it looked like no one was home. There were no cars in the driveway, and the window shades were down. I got out of the car and quickly made my way to the front door. I rang the doorbell and waited a minute or so before I heard the lock click. A teenage boy, who looked like he was early college-bound himself, appeared as though I had woken him. His hair was disheveled and he squinted in the daylight.
“I’m Detective August Miller,” I said. I showed sleepy-head my badge.
“Can I help you with something?” he asked. He talked slowly, and I wondered if he was hungover.
“I’m looking for Amanda Price. Is she home?”
“Amanda?” He seemed to awaken a little. “What’s a cop want with my sister?”
“I need to ask her a few questions. Is she home?”
“Nah, she’s not here.”
“Are you sure? You look like you just woke up.”
“I did, but her room is right next to mine, and her bed is made. If she were here, she would have answered the door instead of me.”
“Are your parents home?”
“Nah, they’re at work. Everything alright with my sister?”
“I just need to ask her some questions. Was Beverly here last night?”
“Bev? Not sure. I wasn’t home last night. What’s all this about? First, you’re asking about my sister, and now Bev. Something wrong?”
The boy was more awake now than when he’d first opened the door. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my card.
“Try and reach your sister. If you do, give her my number and tell her to call me right away.”
The boy took the card and looked at it for a moment before looking at me.
“Is my sister alright? Is she in some kind of trouble?”
