by Mary Stone
Carla knew the younger woman possessed a Ph.D. herself and didn’t miss Latham leaving off the credit. Annoyance flashed over the younger woman’s expression so quickly that Carla would have missed it had she not been watching. Carla didn’t think it was from the absence of her title but more on the word “protégée.”
They shook hands. Autumn Trent’s hand was cool and dry, her handshake firm. Carla nodded, and Autumn gave her a warm smile. Carla decided that she liked the redhead and would be glad to have her help.
Rich had stepped forward and shaken Latham’s hand while Carla was sizing Autumn up. Now, he extended his hand to Autumn. “Dr. Trent. Welcome to Sawmill. My name is Rich Brower. I’m Gina’s uncle.”
Autumn’s face softened in sympathy. “Hello, Mr. Brower. You must be at the end of your wits. How are you doing?”
“I’ve had better weeks. Better years, come to that.” His voice went hoarse. “I’m worried about Gina, of course. And…” He glanced at Carla.
Carla nodded at him. Go ahead.
“And I think I know who’s responsible for the murders.”
Latham stepped in. “Why don’t we take this inside,” he clearly didn’t appreciate Rich speaking directly to Autumn, “instead of discussing an open investigation on the street.”
Rich looked around, even though there wasn’t anyone within listening distance. “Sorry. I’m a mite bit distracted.”
Carla turned toward the entrance of the building. “If you’ll follow me?”
It was one of her small pleasures in life, making men like Latham follow her into the red brick building.
Carla led them to the conference room upstairs, giving her secretary, Laura Jane, a nod as she passed. Laura Jane was a pretty brunette with a sweet smile that belied a nature stubborn enough to wrangle goats. Laura Jane mouthed the word “coffee?” and Carla nodded again. Soon, they were all seated, and Laura Jane brought the hot beverage.
Autumn had taken out a legal notebook from a laptop bag and gratefully took a cup, thanking Laura Jane with a warm smile. Latham didn’t even acknowledge the assistant as he leaned back in his chair, spreading his arms and legs enough to take up several additional inches of space.
When he had pretty much spread out as much as he could, Latham cleared his throat. “You were saying, Mr. Brower, that you had a suspect in mind?”
Rich cleared his throat, frowned at Latham, hesitated, and powered forward. “I do. Gina’s boyfriend, Kyle Murphy.”
Carla didn’t miss the superior look Latham tossed toward Autumn before asking, “What makes you think that?”
“Kyle isn’t just Gina’s boyfriend, he’s also a disturbed young man. I told Marcus to chase him off from Gina, but Marcus liked to think that everyone deserved a second chance.”
Autumn leaned forward. “Can you explain what you mean by disturbed?”
Rich seemed to be searching for an answer but shook his head. “It’s nothing I can put a finger on, actually. Gina just seemed to rely on him too much. His parents were killed in a car accident when he was seventeen, and I think that might have messed him up. Marcus said the boy deserved sympathy because of it. I suppose he did, but he didn’t deserve trust.”
Latham put his hands behind his head and reclined even farther in his chair. “It’s true that some people are never able to adopt the right perspective, but it’s important to make sure they have the support they need so they can become useful members of society.”
Carla wondered what it was about the situation that led Latham to believe Rich Brower needed a lecture about helping troubled youth just at that moment.
Autumn cleared her throat. “Mr. Brower, are there any leads on Gina’s whereabouts? Or those of Kyle Murphy?”
Carla decided to focus on Autumn’s question. If she looked at Latham for too much longer, she’d get off track. “I could tell you the places we checked and the people we talked to, but the trail has gone cold. I’m having the deputies keep an eye out in general, and they’re still working on questioning the many young men and women Marcus worked with at the community center, to see if anyone might know of their whereabouts. Or if there are any other suspects or witnesses. But a lot of those young people have behavioral problems or substance abuse issues, which can cause their own set of difficulties. No one wants to snitch, and not a one of them has faith in the legal system at this point.”
Latham clearly just had to get a word in. “I’m sure you’re being very thorough for the staffing and training you have available. Have you tried requesting assistance from any other jurisdictions? Portland?”
“We had some forensics folks down, and they’re processing the evidence.” Carla met his gaze full-on. “We might not have extensive experience with homicides, Mr. Latham, but let me assure you that we have enough investigative experience to know how to canvass the town and question subjects in a more than adequate fashion. I invested hundreds of deputy-hours in the case before I even thought about calling the Feebs. In addition, I was the one who connected our crime to the three others around the state.”
Autumn kept her eyes locked on Carla’s face. “Sheriff Morton, I’m sure you’ve done your work thoroughly and competently. I appreciate that every murder case is a tense situation, especially one as unpredictable and violent as this one. We will do our best to assist you, rather than getting in your way.” Her eyes shifted toward Latham. “I’m afraid that neither of us is at our best after that flight. Please excuse my colleague.”
Latham turned to her, eyes blazing. “Was that necessary?”
Autumn gave him a steady-eyed stare, her meaning clear.
Carla stepped in. No doubt he would retaliate later, but she needed to keep this discussion on track, at least until they left. “I’ve prepared a folder with all the case materials as we know them. I sent a pile of information to the FBI earlier, but we’ve had a few updates. I don’t know how significant they are, but you’re welcome to go over them.”
Latham sized up the folder, thick with documents, interviews, photographs, and reports. “Autumn, you’re in charge of information management.”
Autumn took the folder without hesitation. Carla was pleased to note that she hadn’t let Latham ruffle her feathers. “I’d like some time to review this and give Dr. Latham a summary before we go too much further.”
Carla stood. “I’ll show you into my office so you’ll have a quiet place to read. And I’ll pull out the new information in the folder, if that’ll help.”
“Immensely.”
The two of them walked back down to Carla’s office. Laura Jane made a face as they walked by, and Carla winked at her. Carla closed the door behind them.
“Latham isn’t much for social skills, is he?” Carla held up a hand so the psychologist wouldn’t be forced to answer the question. “Don’t worry. If you keep your voice low and don’t laugh too loud, nobody will hear you. Except Laura Jane, and she won’t tell.”
Autumn rolled her head on her shoulders, cracking her neck. “I compliment you on your powers of observation. Adam can be grating, but he isn’t unobservant. On the flight over, he even guessed that we would probably have a strong suspect right away, but that the main issue would be finding him. But he has some blind spots.”
“Anything having to do with women or his ego.”
Autumn hesitated for a moment, and the sheriff could tell the young woman was struggling with how to answer. She settled on, “You’re quite the detective, Sheriff Morton.”
“Carla, please, and I don’t envy you. You seem to be the personable one, so while I pull out the documents for you, why don’t you feel free to ask me questions?”
“Thank you. Has anyone made any attempts to contact either you or Rich to confess, to make an announcement, to ask for a ransom for Gina, or to make threats?”
Carla shook her head as she sorted through the paperwork. “Do you think it’s a for-profit kidnapping?”
“I’m not sure what I think. Honestly, the crime seems too persona
l for something like that. I studied the materials again on the flight over. Whoever is at fault, whether it’s Gina, Kyle, or someone else, they seem to be making a statement. If it had been a drug deal gone bad and Mr. Webster had relapsed, for example, then the message would be loud and clear. But the signals here are mixed.”
“What’s your gut instinct tell you?” Carla looked up from the papers to study Autumn carefully. “Never mind the logic. What’s your impression?”
Autumn frowned, and Carla sensed the woman’s hesitation while she decided how much of her instincts she should confide. “I’m worried that this isn’t over. I feel the killer wants to receive credit for the murders, and to have his statement, whatever it is, widely acknowledged, the way a terrorist might.”
Carla drew back. “Now, that’s disturbing. What message could you possibly send by murdering a reformed drug addict and his wife?”
“I don’t know,” Autumn closed the folder and leaned back in her chair, “but I have a feeling he’ll reach out to tell us soon.”
6
It was midafternoon, and the air was already turning colder as clouds covered the sun. When I stood on the deck, my breath steamed up in the air.
I had to walk careful. Some of the deck boards were rotten through, particularly by the steps. The cabin was in bad condition in general. It hadn’t been kept up. I didn’t know who owned it these days, but they hadn’t done a good job. The roof shingles were coming away from the boards underneath. Some of the cedar siding was warped. The paint on the window frames was almost gone, and some of them were rotted through.
Much of the glass was broken. I had covered the windows from the inside with thick sheets of plywood and locking screws, so the decay around the place wasn’t that important, but it still bothered me. A stack of old logs lay next to the cabin, crawling with beetles and smelling like skunks. Pine needles were jammed into every crack and crevice.
We came here often when I was a kid, renting it for at least a week or two every summer. I had good memories of the place. It pissed me off that the new owners had let it run down so badly.
Lighting a cigarette, I watched the smoke and my breath steaming up together in the cold air. I wanted coffee, the hotter the better. The sky got darker with each inhalation, and my nerves calmed down a little. It wasn’t smart to smoke too much out here, but I needed it. When I finished the cigarette, I crushed the butt under my bare foot. I picked up the butt afterward. No way was I going to risk everything by accidentally starting a fire. And no DNA either.
I had to be careful.
Inside, the cabin was dark except the lantern that gave off a warm glow. There was no electricity, but a propane heater kept it warm enough, and I kept a sleeping bag and other essentials in the loft whenever I wanted to stay a night or two.
I dropped the cigarette butt in the old coffee can inside the back door. Dad hadn’t been a tidy guy at home, but up in the mountains, he was strict. “Pack out what you pack in,” he always said.
I remembered him shouting at a woman who had laughed when her napkin blew away in a park. “Stop acting like this place is your damned backyard, you piece of white trash!” Mom had said something to stir him up earlier, but I thought he would have shouted at the woman regardless.
Gina Webster sat in one of the wood chairs at the table, brown eyes following my movements. Her long brown hair still needed to be brushed, even though I had left a brush in the room for her. The bruises on her face had faded, but her expression was still slack, her wide mouth downturned.
She was a problem I didn’t quite know what to do with.
When I’d decided to target the Webster’s, I’d been so sure that Gina wouldn’t be home. But there she was…and here she was.
It was fate. God’s gift delivered directly into my hands.
She just didn’t realize that yet.
She had a mug of cold water in front of her, and the locket she always wore had come untucked from her shirt, dangling loose. I watched her close. Women weren’t predictable. You tried to come to an understanding with them, but they’d still stab you in the back or try to claw you in the face.
The first couple of days at the cabin had been pretty rough. First, the heater hadn’t worked, and I had to buy a couple extra sleeping bags. I woke up the morning of the second with all kinds of aches. It was the second morning after I’d killed the Websters that the hand mark from where Marcus Webster had struggled really showed up. And the other guy…
I didn’t want to think about that.
Most people liked surprises, but not me.
But I’d taken care of them. Took care of him.
Now, it was just Gina and me, which was exactly how I’d always wanted.
I had nightmares a couple of nights. I’d been having a lot of nightmares lately. I guessed I just needed to get more used to killing a real person. I’d hunted before, sure. I’d butchered deer and rabbits and cats.
It hadn’t been hard to kill Marcus and Olivia Webster, or any of the others. It was rough, though. A wild creature, you knew how it’d react. It would either run away from you, or it would run toward you. A bear would run toward you, especially if she was protecting cubs.
But I’d never hunted anything that rolled over on its back and begged for you not to hurt it. I didn’t kill dogs, for example. I couldn’t say I liked killing the Websters or any of the others any more than I would have liked killing a dog.
Killing was like butchering meat for your freezer in the winter. It wasn’t fun, but you did it.
I knew I couldn’t let the nightmares get to me, because I wasn’t done yet. Not by a long shot.
“How long are you going to keep me here?” Gina kept her head down and her face toward her cup. That was all right by me. I knew when she made eye contact that it meant she was getting ready to try to get her hands on me.
I just wanted her to be good. I didn’t want to fight.
That was why I’d chosen Gina. She smiled all the time. She was nice. Pleasing. She did what she was told just like a good girlfriend was supposed to do. I could imagine us getting married, having a kid or two. I could imagine supper being on the table the second I arrived. I could imagine her eager for me to be home, eager for me to take her to bed.
As my dick began to harden, I shook those thoughts away.
Not now. She wasn’t ready.
“I don’t know yet. Long as it takes.”
Her head shot up. “As what takes?”
“You don’t need to know the details.”
A lone tear tracked down her dirty cheek. “Why are you keeping me here? Does this have to do with something about my father?”
“Your dad had it coming.”
“For what?” She finally made eye contact, and the accusation I saw there made me look away. “He helped you.”
“He talked like he did, but he didn’t.” I’d been trying to explain things to her since we got here, but it was like starting all over again every day. Until you gave her the answer she wanted, she just wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t accept anything I said.
“He never said an unkind word to you.”
I shrugged. “He tried to help me, I’ll give him that, but it didn’t stick. You know why?”
She shook her head violently. “No, I don’t know anything.”
“Because he was a fraud. He was a hypocrite.”
Her head continued to move back and forth. “How was he a hypocrite?”
I sighed. We’d gone over this so many times. “He used to do drugs and—”
“But he stopped.”
I took a deep breath. There was nothing I hated more than backtalk from a woman. “You didn’t let me finish. He may have beat his addiction, but he never fixed himself. He went to the community center every day and ran the program, but he hadn’t really changed.”
“That’s not—”
I raised a hand. “He wasn’t back on drugs. That’s not what I mean. He wasn’t teaching anyone discipline. He was ma
king people soft and weak, the same way he was soft and weak. He didn’t have his head on straight. How can you expect to save someone else if you can’t save yourself? How can you teach someone to control themselves if you can’t control yourself?”
She stared at me for a second, clearly not comprehending what I was saying, but she finally remembered herself and lowered her eyes.
I thought I’d need to punish her for a moment. I was glad that wouldn’t be necessary…yet.
Pacing across the room, I didn’t continue until I was calmer. “But the main issue was that his first obligation was to his family. He promised that he would care for you. And he was about to renege on that promise.”
She kept her eyes down. “He didn’t want the divorce. My mom wanted the divorce. He just agreed to it. They were only arguing about the fine print.”
How did this girl not understand?
“Divorce is a sign of a false promise,” I shouted, making her jump. “To death do you part means just that. You can’t make a vow like that and just take it back. Your dad was always a fraud. He never meant to take care of his family. You can tell by the fact that he was about to let you and your mom get away from him.”
Her head jerked up, and I could tell she was getting ready to mouth off. I had been watching her so close for the past few days that I could just tell. I had warned her not to push me, but she didn’t seem to understand what was at stake.
“What does my parents’ divorce even have to do with you?”
I slammed the meat of my fist into one of the kitchen walls. “Do you listen to a word I say? Or do you just let your mind wander when I talk?”
She didn’t answer.
“I been saying the same things, day after day, every day.” I began pacing again. “How long do you think it will take for it to sink in? You aren’t stupid. You’re just egging me on. You’re doing it on purpose. You’re pushing my buttons on purpose. Every word you say is calculated to just piss me off. But there’s only so long you can keep doing this before you cause yourself more trouble than you can handle.”