The Patrick Bowers Files - 05 - The Queen by Steven James Page B

off, at the press conferences Jake had emphasized how his profile had helped crack the case wide open. Personally, I couldn’t care less about press coverage or credit for a case, but I did care about murders being averted.
    And I did care about the arrogance of the people I worked with.
    â€œEither Donnie came home,” Jake said, “and found his family dead, then snapped and took his own life, or for whatever reason, he shot his wife and daughter and then killed himself. Think about it, Pat, a man kills his family then himself—not that unusual.” Then he added, a tight thread running through every word, “As you’re so adept at pointing out, we may never know his motives, but his actions speak for themselves.”
    â€œYou’re assuming too much, Jake.”
    He folded his arms. “Then give me another scenario that fits the evidence.”
    Alternate scenarios were not the problem—sorting through them to find the truth of what happened was.
    â€œFirst of all, we have no body so we don’t even know if Donnie or someone else was riding the snowmobile when it went under.”
    â€œYou’re thinking someone jammed the throttle or tied it off?”
    â€œI’m not thinking that yet because I have no reason to. I’m just considering it as a possibility.”
    He shook his head. “Pat, the water is a hundred yards from shore.”
    He was right. And the tracks were straight, aimed directly and unfalteringly at the open water. It seemed hard to believe that the sled would go that straight and that far without a rider on it, even if someone had secured the throttle.
    â€œJake, how many suicides have you worked that involved someone purposely drowning himself?”
    â€œIt’s rare,” he admitted.
    â€œWhat about through a hole in the ice?”
    He was quiet.
    â€œIf Donnie intended to commit suicide,” I said, “why not just turn the gun on himself or shoot himself with one of the handguns he kept in his gun cabinet? I’m guessing that most people would consider drowning in ice-cold water in a frozen lake a lot more frightening way to go than a quick, fatal gunshot wound. The open water is clearly visible, so it’s unlikely the rider accidentally went in. Also, the killer made no attempt to cover the bodies, and—”
    â€œI know,” he said impatiently. “Killers with close relationships to the victims normally position them in more reverent ways. I thought of that yesterday at the scene.”
    I let his rough tone go unchallenged. “Also, why would Donnie remove the spent cartridges and the murder weapon? And what about the nuclear submarine records and the Navy’s interest? Why would they even get involved if they thought it was either an accidental death or a suicide?”
    Jake didn’t reply.
    Four patrol cars turned onto the road leading to the boat landing.
    Jake turned his face from the wind to look at them. The black eel of water rippled uneasily behind him. “So what exactly are you saying?”
    â€œI’m saying that at this point we don’t know who, if anyone, went down with the snowmobile. We don’t know if Donnie is alive or dead. We don’t know who called Ardis’s cell phone at 1:54 or why the Navy is interested in this case. We don’t know how many people were present at the house when Ardis and Lizzie were killed, and we don’t have any idea who they might have been.”
    â€œSo you don’t think it was Donnie?”
    â€œIf you set aside assumptions about domestic homicides and look at this case objectively, everything except Donnie’s relationship with the victims and his disappearance points to someone else as the shooter.”
    Ellory and the two officers who’d stood sentry at the house last night crossed the ice toward us. Four more officers followed them.
    Often when the Bureau gets involved in joint investigations, local