by Mary Stone
“And this was three years ago?” Autumn confirmed, going back to the timeline she’d sketched out.
Nancy brushed a hand through her hair. “I knew them both before everything fell apart. He was a family lawyer, a successful one. Dealt with divorces and custody battles all day long. After…” she blinked rapidly, “the bad times, he was able to rebuild his business some, although not like it used to be.” She dabbed at her eyes again. “At first, he was so ashamed that Gina had to be put into the system, but when he learned that it was Helen Mathers who got her, that was a relief for everybody involved.”
“Helen Mathers?” The name was familiar.
“Yep. Helen fosters kids. Takes in the real hard cases and straightens them out. Good woman.”
“And this is the same foster home in which Kyle Murphy lived in too?”
Nancy nodded. “Yes. Like I said, that’s where Kyle and Gina met.”
“Does Helen Mathers work with the community center?”
“Not officially. She comes by once a week to donate cookies and say hello. If we have parents who need to talk to someone more experienced, we’ll send them to her.”
Something about the woman’s name made Autumn’s skin prickle. “I should talk to her. It sounds like she would know Gina Webster well.”
“I’m sure she’d be willing to talk to you. Although I don’t know what good it would do you or the investigation.”
“I’m not sure either, but sometimes you just have to follow your intuition. It’s often the smallest detail that makes the biggest difference.”
Nancy smiled, baring the white tips of her teeth, and took a sip of coffee. Her lipstick seemed impervious; the rim of the cup was still spotless. “It brought you here, didn’t it? Find out anything useful?”
“I’m not sure, but I still have a few questions for you. I’ve actually worked up a profile for potential future targets, and I’d like to feel out the possibility of contacting them with you.”
Nancy looked stricken. “You think the person who killed Marcus and Olivia will kill again?”
Autumn considered her answer. “I think we should move forward with an abundance of caution.”
“I see where you’re going with this. You’re looking for married couples who are having trouble and are about to get a divorce.”
“Yes,” Autumn confirmed. The woman definitely had the mind of an attorney. “A couple with a child or children of any age.”
Nancy was tapping her lip again. “I see your problem. On the one hand, you need at least one more local killing to confirm a pattern, but nobody wants that. The problem is that it would involve nosing around in confidential records. The real question will be whether you can get a judge’s permission for us to open those records.”
Autumn smiled. “You’re exactly right.”
“I don’t want to slow you down, but there are just some things I’m not legally allowed to do.” Nancy winked broadly. “But if I were to drop a few names in Carla’s ear, and she were to just happen to have a few words with them about getting out of town for a week, nobody could complain about that.”
Autumn’s smile broadened. “Rumors spread like wildfire in a small town.”
Nancy leaned forward and gripped Autumn’s hand. “You’re a good girl, you know that? You honestly care about people.”
At Nancy’s touch, Autumn received a flash into the other woman’s thoughts. The attorney slash community center director was thinking that she shouldn’t tease Autumn for being so naïve.
Autumn could have told Nancy Gaines some stories that would have curled her jaded hair. But now was not the time.
It was time to start wrapping things up. “Can you provide me with Helen Mathers’s contact in—?”
A knock at the door made them both jump.
“Autumn?” Adam’s impatient voice was muffled by the door.
Autumn fought hard not to groan. “In here.”
The doorknob jiggled, but the door didn’t open.
Nancy got up and unlocked it. “Force of habit.”
The door swung open, and Adam stepped inside. “Autumn, your phone’s off.”
She pulled it from her bag. He was right. There were about a dozen messages. “I turned the ringer off before I began the interview.” Which was standard practice. A practice Adam was certainly aware of.
“If you’re going to do something like that, you could at least check your messages.”
Adam looked pissed, but beneath the anger was something else. The hair prickled at the back of her neck.
Autumn stood and faced him completely. “What’s wrong?”
His face was grim. “There’s been another murder.”
12
Winter Black checked her watch. She had been pacing for the last forty-five minutes in the Mosby Detention Center waiting room to see Justin Black.
Her baby brother.
The accused serial killer.
She still couldn’t believe it.
Winter knew that he was guilty. As a special agent in the FBI Violent Crimes Division in Richmond, Virginia, she had helped bring him in herself. What she desperately wanted to know was the reason he had done what he had done—and whether he could turn his life around to the point where they might be able to have some kind of relationship.
The two of them had been separated when Winter was only thirteen years old. Douglas Kilroy, a serial killer known as The Preacher, had murdered their parents and abducted her younger brother. The Preacher had hit her over the head and left her for dead. It was a miracle she had even survived.
For thirteen long years, Winter had assumed that he was dead, even if she couldn’t quite make herself feel it. The not knowing had been the hardest part. Losing her parents had been terrible, but she knew exactly where they were now. They were safely in a grave, their spirits soaring through the clouds and sliding down rainbows. At least that was how she liked to picture them.
But with Justin, he had just vanished. He was in SpongeBob pajamas one day then…gone.
He must be dead, she’d think one minute, then her mind would run through the host of horrors a young boy would be put through at the hands of a maniac. It was during those moments that she had hoped he was dead, because she couldn’t imagine him suffering so badly. How damaged it would make him.
Then he’d reappeared in her life, and she realized that nothing in her worst imaginations had come close to what happened to him over the years.
He wasn’t her brother anymore, and no matter how she, intellectually, knew that it wasn’t her fault, she couldn’t help but blame herself. She had failed him. She had snuck out of the house and hadn’t been there to save him. Save any of them.
To discover that not only was he alive but had been brainwashed by a serial killer into more or less following in his footsteps had been devastating. To know that he hated her so much…hated most women that much…had crushed her spirit in a way that she wasn’t sure she would recover from.
A guard opened the door of the waiting room, his face a blank mask as he nodded in her direction. “He’s ready for you, miss.”
She had already locked her valuables up in the bank of lockers on one wall of the room. As she headed his way, she twisted a ring around her finger, then winced. Apparently, she’d been twisting it so much that the skin underneath it was almost raw.
The guard frowned at the ring. “Are you carrying a pen, your keys, or a cell phone? Have you checked your pockets?”
“I just have this ring.”
“May I see it?” She took it off, and he examined it closely before handing it back. “That shouldn’t be a problem. There is a metal detector just ahead. Hold your hands down at your sides and walk slowly. I may ask you to step aside for a further search. If one is necessary, I’ll have a female officer perform it. Please follow me.”
This wasn’t the first time Winter had gone inside a secure area holding dangerous prisoners. She had been tempted to use her FBI credentials to gain more
leniency at the gate, but she wasn’t here as an agent. She was here as a sister.
The guard led her to a small, open room with a heavy steel framework and thick plexiglass panels that had been built into a corner of a larger room. The larger room was a classroom for prisoners, with multiple desks fitted with security bars, a projector screen, and a whiteboard taking up most of one wall.
The smaller room was bare but for a chair that looked like a modified school desk bolted to the floor. Another, more normal chair was opposite it. Justin was already seated there, locked into the chair by chain restraints around his ankles and handcuffs attached to a heavy steel ring on the desk.
The guard ushered her inside the small room and closed the door behind her, shutting out the sounds of the prison around them. The booth must have been soundproofed. All she could hear was the soft sound of the vent overhead, and Justin’s prison slippers tapping the floor as he bounced his feet under the desk.
Winter couldn’t see him without thinking of a little six-year-old boy who followed her around and asked her all kinds of questions. She remembered reading books to him, the two of them sitting under a tree in the backyard in the summer, his head with its mop of dark hair leaning against her arm.
He used to bounce up and down on his toes when he was excited. He’d jump into her arms, and she’d swing him round and round. He’d laugh and laugh, crying out for her to swing him, “One more time.”
He had been so precious to her. Not always. There had been times when he’d been a little shit, just like little brothers were supposed to. He’d even thrown firecrackers at her once. But from the first day she’d held him, proudly wearing her “I’m the Big Sister” shirt, she’d been in love.
Then, fate had intervened and turned the sweet little boy into a monster.
“Hello, Winter.” Justin’s leg bounced up and down even harder. “You look nice.”
It was Winter’s day off. She was wearing blue jeans with a black jacket over a t-shirt. Her dress code hadn’t changed much since she was a teenager. “Thanks.”
He looked like shit, but she couldn’t tell him that. Besides, he probably already knew.
“How are you?”
Justin’s eyes had locked onto her own, unblinking. He watched her with such focus and attention that it seemed like the rest of the room disappeared. His gaze was magnetic. “I’m okay, I guess. Considering my big sis abandoned me again.”
Guilt drove a knife into her gut, and a thousand emotions fought for dominance as she struggled to decide how to respond. She stood there, just a foot or so inside the door, feeling frozen to the spot.
I didn’t abandon you. That would sound defensive.
Then stop killing people. Maybe a little passive aggressive.
You could have found me. Pushing back the blame wouldn’t be helpful at all.
I’m sorry. That was the truth, in so many more ways than one.
“I’ve missed you.”
That was another truth, one that felt better to admit. If she told him she was sorry, she knew he’d feed and feed on it, taking bite after bite out of her soul until she became nothing more than an empty shell.
He did what she’d expected him to do. He scoffed. “I can tell. You’ve made it totally obvious how much you’ve missed me. Why don’t you come over and give your baby brother a great big hug,” a smile curled the tips of his mouth, “little girlie.”
She inhaled the smallest of gasps.
Those two words sounded just like him. The Preacher back from the dead.
Winter had years of practice keeping her facial muscles perfectly still, but her heart had begun to pump so hard, she could feel the pulse in her ears. He could tell how the words had affected her because the smile grew in size.
It had been what he wanted. To panic her. To hurt her emotionally since he couldn’t touch her any other way.
That realization was what gave her the strength to pull herself together. Instead of being baited, she relaxed her shoulders and moved forward to take a seat.
“You’re in a great deal of trouble,” she said, her voice calm, almost bordering on serene.
“No shit. Thanks to you.”
“Do you always blame others for your actions?”
His face darkened, the angry red making his blue eyes stand out even more. “You don’t get to say that to me.”
It was her turn to scoff. “I’m the big sister. I can do whatever I want.”
That seemed to confuse him because he just stared at her. She waited, letting silence be her friend.
After almost a full minute passed, the anger seemed to melt away. His head jerked to the side, almost like he was trying to break his own neck. He did it again, then again. She was growing nervous that he might be having some type of seizure, when he grew perfectly still.
A tear the size of a dime rolled down his left cheek, then another rolled down his right. He hung his head, his chin on his chest. His face was red again, but this time, he seemed…what? Embarrassed?
“I’m sorry.” His voice was much softer now, and he began rocking back and forth in a gentle sway. “It’s not your fault I’m so bad.”
Was he playing her?
She didn’t know, and she couldn’t tell.
As a special agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, she had been trained to read people, to understand their baser instincts. She had either lost her ability to do either of those things, or the brother/sister bond was wrapping itself tightly around her instincts.
“Justin…?” He raised his head, and the fear and sadness on his face broke her heart. She decided to focus on something else, and there was only one thing that came to mind. “I heard that you had an appointment with Dr. Trent. What insight did you gain from your time together?”
Damn. She was beginning to sound like a psychologist herself.
His face brightened a little, but the swaying didn’t cease. “She’s nice. She hasn’t been around lately, though. Where is she?”
Winter wanted to be honest with her brother in the hopes that he would be honest in return. At the same time, there were things she couldn’t tell him. Things he didn’t need to know. Winter lifted a shoulder and offered a part of the truth. “She’s out of town for a few days.”
“Are you here in her place?”
Winter forced herself not to fidget with the ring again. “No, I’m just here for a visit.”
Justin’s entire face fell in what appeared to be abject disappointment. It only lasted for a moment before his expression went neutral again. “That’s fine.”
His obvious disappointment was like a punch to the stomach. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She was so conflicted about her feelings for this young man before her. She couldn’t sort them out. “Would you rather I leave?”
He studied her, his blue eyes the same shade as her own. Ten heartbeats passed, then ten more, then another dozen. Finally, just as she was sure he was going to turn her away, he shrugged.
“It’s not like I’m busy. Unless my attorney or shrink is here, I don’t have much to do but wait…wait…and…” he gave her a sarcastic grin, “wait.”
Winter sat gingerly on the edge of the chair. “Do you like talking with Dr. Trent?”
He raised his shoulders an inch. “She’s okay. I don’t think anybody can help me now. I’m too bad.”
Winter wanted to go to him, take him into her arms.
“Can I sleep with you, sissy?”
Justin’s little tear-streaked face was peeking through the crack in her bedroom door. “Did you have a bad dream?”
He rubbed his eyes and pushed the door open, his stuffed giraffe firmly tucked under his arm. “No…I just want to sleep with you.”
With the sigh of an annoyed teenager, she raised her covers, and his warm little body slid in next to her. He didn’t stop until he was pressed close, his little hand finding hers. She kissed his dark hair, inhaling the baby shampoo her mother still used. “Better?”
<
br /> He didn’t speak, but his head nodded up and down. “You got to kiss Raff too.”
She wrinkled her nose, wondering how many germs and stains she didn’t want to think about were hidden in the raggedy animal’s fur. But she kissed the giraffe’s forehead, then she kissed her brother again. “Good night, Justin. I love you.”
He snuggled as close as he could possibly get. “I love you to the moon and around all the stars in the big, big universe.”
“Sissy?”
Winter’s head snapped up at the word. Had Justin been reading her mind? She had forgotten until just that moment the name he used to call her. How had she forgotten about that?
“Sorry.” She shook out her trembling hands and forced a smile. “I was just thinking about Raff.”
Justin smiled in return, more genuinely this time. “Good ole Raff.” The smile fell away, and an icy coldness replaced the warmth of only a moment ago. “Did you abandon him too?”
Pain pulsed in her temples, and she automatically raised her fingers to touch under her nose. Sometimes, when a very bad headache came on this suddenly, her nose would bleed, but her fingers came away clean. The pain receded too.
But she needed to be careful.
Here wasn’t the place for her to succumb to one of her visions, a gift from The Preacher himself.
Ever since he hit her over the head that fateful night, she had the ability to see things she shouldn’t be able to see. Enhanced intuition, some people called it. Back in the sixteen hundreds, some people would have called it something much different, and she would have been burned at the stake. These days, it just made her a freak.
“Dr. Trent is trying to get me into a nuthouse. Is that where you think I need to be too?”
Winter blinked. She knew for a fact that Autumn was doing no such thing. Granted, he might end up in a mental institution if he wasn’t found competent to stand trial, and if he did go to trial and won the insanity plea, he could very well live in one the rest of his life.