After Deputy Aguilar finished, she held up a finger, a signal for the middle-aged woman to stay put. The muscular, diminutive deputy sauntered over to Thomas at the curb while Deputy Lambert guarded the door.
“What’s the story?” Thomas asked. “Looks like a medical emergency.”
Aguilar set herself between Thomas and the distraught woman.
“The house belongs to Lincoln and Kay Ramsey. Lincoln was the man on the gurney.”
“Heart attack?”
“COPD. Ramsey’s condition degraded over the last decade. It accelerated over the past two months. He didn’t have a heartbeat when the paramedics wheeled him out. My guess is the guy died twenty minutes ago.”
“I wouldn’t expect this many uniforms on scene unless we suspected foul play.”
“The woman over there,” Aguilar said, tilting her chin toward the female she’d interviewed. “That’s the daughter, Ambrose Jorgensen. She lives with her husband, Martin, and two kids on the east side of the village. She claims someone broke into the bedroom. When she ran upstairs, she found the window open to the screen. Lincoln Ramsey wasn’t breathing. She called 9-1-1.”
“That’s why there are three deputies here.”
“Right. Sheriff Gray worked overtime today, and I didn’t want to call him in.”
“So what do you believe happened?”
“My theory? The guy died of natural causes, if you consider COPD natural. Had a great uncle who passed from COPD. It’s not pretty at the end. Anyway, Kay Ramsey couldn’t verify her daughter’s concerns. The poor woman probably couldn’t remember what she ate for dinner, let alone if she’d left the bedroom window unlocked.”
“Warm night like this one, most people leave their windows open.”
“Ramsey said someone was in her neighbor’s yard. It was too dark to recognize a face.”
“Did we check with the neighbor?”
“Yeah. It’s an eighty-six-year-old woman, and she says she settled down in front of the television three hours ago and was ready for bed before the commotion started.”
“Okay, bring the daughter over.”
Aguilar motioned at Ambrose Jorgensen. The Ramsey’s daughter sloughed across the front yard with her head lowered, her makeup smeared by tears.
“Mrs. Jorgensen, this is Deputy Shepherd. Please tell him what you told me.”
Ambrose folded her arms and glanced at the house, her eyes haunted.
“Mom and I were downstairs inside the kitchen when somebody broke inside.”
“What makes you think someone was in the house?” Thomas asked.
“The floorboards creaked, and then there was a thud, like someone bumped against the furniture.”
“Are you certain it wasn’t your father?”
Ambrose rubbed at her arms.
“He was too ill to move. Mom said my father hadn’t left his bed in twenty-four hours.”
Thomas pictured his own father, diagnosed during the spring with stage four lung cancer. Mason Shepherd had lost weight and energy. But the downward spiral was still to come.
“I told Mom someone was upstairs,” Ambrose continued. “But she waved it away and said I imagined the noise.”
“What happened next?”
The Ramsey’s daughter chewed her thumbnail.
“Mom had a horrible time dealing with my father’s disease. She stepped outside to clear her head. While I called home, another thump came from inside the bedroom. This one was loud enough that I worried my father had fallen out of bed.”
“Did you check on him?”
“Right away. On my way up the stairs, I heard something else. Like the screen opened and slid shut. When I reached the bedroom, my father had stopped breathing. I yelled for help and called 9-1-1.”
Aguilar lifted her chin at the master bedroom. “Did you look out the window for an intruder?”
“No,” she said, glaring at Aguilar as if the deputy had slapped her. “My priority was my father. All I cared about was calling for an ambulance.” She bit the inside of her cheek, her eyes glistening. “Not that it helped. Dad was gone when I found him. There was nothing the paramedics could do.”
“Your mother claims she doesn’t recall locking the window.”
“No, but she saw someone next door.”
“We’ll check for shoe prints,” said Thomas, assuaging the Ramsey’s daughter. “But it’s possible your mother saw a neighborhood kid running through the yard. When I came down your road, I noticed a dozen or more kids chasing each other.”
“If you’re suggesting my mother mistook a child playing hide-and-seek for a full-grown adult...” Ambrose took a composing breath. “She can recognize the difference, even in the dark.” Ambrose shifted her pocketbook to her opposite shoulder. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to be with my mother.”
“We’ll call if we have additional questions.”
After the Ramsey’s daughter drove off, Deputy Lambert stepped off the porch and joined Thomas and Aguilar in the yard. Trained by the U.S. Army, Lambert stood a few inches over six feet, his hair buzzed military short beneath his hat.
“This seems like a wild goose chase,” Lambert said, following the taillights into the night. “I’ll dust the bedroom for prints. Between the Ramsey couple and their daughter, there must be prints all over the room.”
“Concentrate on the windowpane,” Thomas said. “And it wouldn’t hurt to dust outside the window. Is there a way to enter the master bedroom from ground level?”
“There’s one possibility,” Aguilar said. “Follow me.”
A porch roof stood over a side entrance. Thomas ran his gaze over the stoop.
“Could be someone climbed over the rail, pulled himself onto the roof, and jostled the screen open.” Thomas scratched his chin. “But why would anyone murder a man dying from COPD?”
“Maybe Lincoln Ramsey had enemies,” Lambert said.
Aguilar shook her head.
“I’m sticking with my original theory. The guy died in his sleep. He might have thrashed before passing, and that’s what the daughter heard.”
“All right,” Thomas said. He nodded at Lambert. “While you dust for prints, I’ll check the neighbor’s yard where Kay Ramsey saw the shadow. Aguilar, knock on a few doors. Perhaps a neighbor saw someone.”
Lambert’s heavy frame climbed the stairs inside the house as
