Terminal 9 by Patricia H. Rushford Page A

let you know if I run into any roadblocks.”
    â€œSounds good.” Philly went back to sipping his coffee and began dictating reports into his mini cassette recorder.
    Hearing his phone ring, Mac headed for his desk, which was situated in one of the small cubicles in the detectives’ office. He caught a glimpse of the empty chair at Kevin’s desk as he walked past his open office door and felt an intense sadness.
    â€œDetective McAllister,” Mac said as he hit the speaker button on the phone.
    â€œOh good, you’re there.”
    â€œMorning, Dana. What’s up?”
    â€œJust wondering if it was okay if you picked me up to go to the courthouse in Columbia County instead of meeting you at the office this morning. I told Jan I wouldn’t be able to make lunch. She suggested getting together for coffee in St. John’s, so she just picked me up at the OSP lot. I could make the meet on the way out west if that’s okay with you. I’ll be at The Java House on Vaughn.”
    â€œSure,” Mac said. “I’ll just peck away on the warrant for a while and meet you there by 8:30.”
    â€œAre you sure? I don’t want to miss out on anything, but I’ve been trying to get some one-on-one time with Jan all week.”
    â€œIt’ll be fine. You should go. Jan has a lot to offer.”
    â€œThanks, Mac. I’ll see you out there.”
    AT A FEW MINLTES TO NINE, Mac and Dana entered the stone World War II-era courthouse and jogged up the stairs to the second floor, where the county prosecutor’s offices were housed. Mac pressed the buzzer to the heavy metal door leading into the office. Almost immediately, the receptionist unlocked the electric door.
    â€œHi, Mac,” the receptionist greeted the two detectives, smiling at Dana as they entered the office. “You must be Dana Bennett.”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œDarren said you’d be coming. I’m Lila.” The women shook hands.
    â€œIs Darren in?” Mac asked.
    â€œHe is. You know where his office is, Mac; go on back.”
    â€œThanks.” Mac led the way past her desk and down a long hallway to the third office on the right. “Knock, knock.” Mac pushed on the already open door.
    â€œC’mon in, Mac. Good morning, Dana.” Darren stood up at his desk and gestured for them to have a seat in the two chairs facing him. “I’ve already briefed the grand jury. I need for you to give a quick testimony before the jury, and we’ll cut some subpoenas for Clay’s medical records and personal finance records so you don’t have to write a warrant affidavit.”
    â€œGood.” Mac appreciated the D.A.’s efficiency. “Is there a judge on the premises today? I have a warrant affidavit prepared for the house.” Mac set his briefcase on an empty chair, removed a file folder, and placed the packet on Darren’s desk.
    â€œI’ll need the autopsy information and probably the lab work before the judge signs off on it, but it’s a starting point. I’ll review it this afternoon if I get the chance. I have trial all day.” Darren glanced at his watch. “If you’re ready to give testimony before the grand jury begins hearing other cases, we can get subpoenas for financial companies today and get that medical information over to Dr. Thorpe.” Darren motioned toward the employee break room that doubled as a grand jury hearing room one week a month.
    â€œThey’re ready now?” Mac asked.
    â€œReady and waiting.” Darren grabbed a pad from his desk. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll hold off on testimony subpoenas for Dan Mason and the others. Let’s see what kind of reception they give you at the rail yard today.”
    In Oregon, grand juries were mainly used as a primary charging forum for issuing felony indictments. Citizen jurors would listen to police testimony and decide