Autumn's Game

by Mary Stone

  Autumn turned the girl, shining the light on her back. It was crisscrossed with wounds. Angry, infected wounds. The source of the fever. And then she spotted something else.

  She lifted the girl’s hand and was horrified by what she saw. Ashley’s wrist was mangled. She looked at Ashley’s mouth, saw the blood there. No, not just mangled…chewed.

  “Oh honey. What have you done? What have they done to you?”

  Yanking off her jacket, she wrapped a sleeve around the wound. The girl had apparently passed out before she’d chewed too deep, but she’d still lost a great deal of blood.

  Had she tried to kill herself? Or had the fever caused her to do things she wouldn’t normally do.

  “They need to hurry,” Autumn called. “She might be septic.”

  After what felt like forever, EMS was coming down the stairs and climbing into the hole. Autumn explained her theory regarding the sepsis and held the flashlight while a female paramedic inserted an IV into the girl’s hand while the male did a quick assessment.

  “Temp is 107.”

  As bad as that sounded, Autumn was a little bit relieved. If she had been in severe sepsis, her body temperature would have been much lower.

  Ashley whimpered as they placed her on the board and strapped her down. Autumn was once again glad for the girl’s unconscious state.

  Once they had gotten her up the stairs and were securing the backboard to the stretcher, Ashley stirred. “Lisa?” she murmured.

  The one word broke Autumn’s heart. Here she was, beaten and incredibly sick, and she still had the strength to worry about her friend. To suffer so badly, and still care about someone else.

  That was bravery.

  Lisa rushed to her friend’s side. “I’m here. I’m okay. Just get better soon.”

  Autumn wanted to ride with her, hold the girl’s hand. But they still had another missing girl to find and a killer on the loose.

  “The social worker is meeting the ambulance at the hospital,” Rich said. It was like he was reading her mind. “She’ll call us with any news. Carla took Mathers in for booking.”

  Autumn squeezed Ashley’s hand a last time and closed her eyes against the assault of pain and harsh words that ran through her subconscious. She held a sobbing Lisa carefully by the shoulders as they pushed Ashley out the door.

  “Autumn.”

  She pulled herself together and smiled at Rich. He was sitting with the two boys. Lisa moved to the window, watching her friend be loaded into the ambulance. As she watched, a second ambulance pulled in. Lisa’s ride this time.

  Rich lifted a thumb. “Good job.”

  But it wasn’t his niece. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was thinking the same thing.

  Autumn’s smile was as weary as she felt as she turned her focus on the boys. “Ashley is tough.” She didn’t want to give them empty promises, though. Ashley was young, but if her immune system was compromised in any way, she might not have the strength to fight the infection.

  The smaller of the two, Benji, was still sobbing. The other boy, Nicholas, stared unresponsively into the distance, almost shell-shocked. A few minutes later, Lisa was whisked away, then a social worker arrived to take care of the boys. The crime scene techs arrived, getting to work.

  An arm came around Autumn’s shoulders. It was Winter.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes and no,” she told her friend honestly.

  Winter gave her a hard squeeze. “You saved Ashley and probably Lisa today.”

  It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

  Autumn’s throat closed painfully. She was remembering an incident from her time in the foster system when she’d been locked in a closet for wetting the bed. No food, no water, no toilet—and no way out. She’d been punished even worse when they’d let her out and discovered that she’d wet herself again.

  After a whole day of being locked in a closet.

  What did people expect from kids, anyway? Sainthood?

  A cure for their own insecurities?

  A physical and mental punching bag to make them feel better about themselves?

  Autumn pushed her hair back behind her ear and turned to face her friend. “Helen Mathers is part of all this,” she said with a certainty she didn’t question. “She’s connected to all these murders.”

  Winter stared at her, her blue eyes drilling into her. “Then let’s take her down.”

  24

  The Newby County Sheriff’s Office was attached to the county jail, making it handy to book prisoners and interview them whenever she liked.

  Helen Mathers had cursed and screamed through the entire process. She had hurled insults one minute while making excuses the next. Carla had a pounding headache by the time she’d gotten her settled into a holding cell.

  She couldn’t believe all this treachery and brutality had been going on right beneath her nose. Some sheriff she’d turned out to be. Maybe it was time to retire and let the new fleet of law enforcement officers with their techno gadgets and best practice smarts take her place.

  The idea was tempting.

  And maybe after the dust settled on this case, she wouldn’t have any choice other than to hand over her badge. Rich, as the mayor, wouldn’t fire her, she knew. But there were a bunch of busybody hens on the town council who were already making that suggestion.

  The front door opened, and Autumn Trent strode into the station. She’d clearly gone back to their hotel to shower and change her clothes. After crawling around in that mess of a cellar, Carla didn’t blame her. The young psychologist looked fresh and eager.

  Carla remembered the days when she’d been fresh and eager too.

  Pouring another cup of coffee, she plastered a smile on her face. “At least we got one good deed done today.”

  Autumn smiled, and in her eyes, Carla could see her very own thoughts reflected back.

  It’s not enough.

  “You want some coffee? Water?”

  “Water would be wonderful. If I drink anymore coffee, my heart will jitter out of my chest.”

  After retrieving a cold bottle from the little fridge next to her desk, Carla pushed to her feet. “Give me five minutes to get Mathers settled into an interview room and we’ll get started.”

  It was the longest five minutes of Carla’s life.

  Helen had been changed out of the housedress she’d arrived in, which had been packaged as evidence. There had been blood droplets on the front of it, from whipping Lisa Hill’s back. The thick stick she’d whipped the girl with had also been packaged up for evidence.

  Now, she wore tent-like beige scrubs with the words COUNTY JAIL printed on the back and a pair of orange shower sandals on her feet. Cuffs held her hands in front of her while her curled hair stuck out in every direction. The expression on her face brought the phrase “madder than a wet hen” immediately to mind.

  Helen Mathers’s eyes were bulging from her head. Her ruddy skin had darkened almost to purple. She probably needed to be on high blood pressure medication, although Carla didn’t much care if she had a heart attack and fell over in her chair just at that moment. But she did write herself a memo on a small tablet beside her: Bring in doc for a checkup re: blood pressure, Helen Mathers.

  After bringing Autumn into the room, Carla began the recording before stating the time, date, and the people in the room.

  “Mrs. Mathers, you have been advised of your Miranda rights based on the charges of…” She rattled off the long list of charges she’d booked the woman for, then took a breath before she could continue.

  “I’ve already told you that I’m not talking to you about the way I teach my children,” Helen announced, folding her hands primly in her lap. She looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

  Carla had been through this routine before. It didn’t matter if the suspect was caught red-handed: anything they could do to play for time or disrupt the process, they would do it.

  Without batting an ey
e.

  “Yes, you have, and as I just mentioned, we aren’t speaking about those charges at this time. Right now, we’re asking you to voluntarily provide information regarding any knowledge you might have as to who the Broken Hearts Killer is.”

  Carla cringed at the use of the term, but that was what the press had named him, and she thought it might better connect with the woman.

  “What is she doing here?” Helen pointed at Autumn, her finger shaking.

  “Dr. Trent has some questions for you that are not related to the case at hand. We were hoping that you’d be willing to voluntarily answer those questions.”

  Helen snorted. “What’s in it for me?”

  “I’ll personally speak to the judge and let him know that you cooperated with us.”

  That was true. She would speak to the judge, but she had zero control regarding his decision.

  Helen looked doubtful. “You will?”

  Carla smiled. “Absolutely. We have someone out killing people in our community, and if you can help us apprehend the suspect, I’m sure the judge would take that into consideration.”

  Autumn leaned forward. “There is also a reward posted.”

  Helen made a show of considering the proposal. “And I don’t have to talk about what happened today?”

  “That’s correct. We’re legally unable to speak to you about those matters unless you have your lawyer present.”

  Earlier, Helen had told Carla that she had an expensive New York lawyer on speed dial. Said his name was Arnie Becker. Arnie Becker was the name of a lawyer character on an old TV show, L.A. Law. Carla had just nodded and written it down in Helen’s case file.

  “Will you release me if I talk?”

  Carla strove for patience. “Not yet. We still have the matter of today to sort out.”

  “How much is the reward?”

  Autumn jumped in. “Fifty thousand dollars.”

  Carla could practically see the wheels spinning in the woman’s head.

  Finally, after a good two minutes had passed, Helen lifted her chin. “Considering how I’ve been treated today, my heart is still big enough to help out any way I can.”

  Carla nearly laughed. “Thank you, Mrs. Mathers.”

  Autumn took over. “Yes, thank you for your assistance in this matter. It is greatly appreciated.”

  Helen sniffed. She was back in her element. “It’s the godly thing to do.”

  Autumn ducked her head, pretending to fiddle with her notepad. After a moment, she’d regained her composure. “What do you know about the so-called Broken Hearts Killer?”

  Helen shrugged. “Just what I’ve heard on the news. That someone is killing couples who end their marriage in divorce.”

  “One of those couples was the parents of one of the children you fostered. Gina Webster.”

  “So? I’ve diligently cared for a number of children over the years.”

  “And Gina is now missing. As a long-standing member of this community, do you have any idea where she could be?”

  Helen’s eyelashes fluttered. “I have no idea.”

  “Do you know who took her?”

  She blinked more rapidly this time. “Of course not.”

  Carla knew it irritated Autumn to not be able to ask about the name scratched into the wall of the cellar room. But that would go against the scope of this questioning, and Carla relaxed when Autumn went in a different direction.

  “What is your opinion of Kyle Murphy?” Autumn fired off.

  Helen seemed confused by the change of topic. “What about Kyle?”

  “What is your opinion of him?”

  Helen frowned. “Well, I remember him as being quite the character, if truth be told. He was used to getting away with anything and everything in his parents’ home, but after they died and he came to live with me, he was quite annoyed by the rules all my children must live by.”

  Carla wanted to ask if she’d put him in the cellar room but held her silence.

  “That must have been hard for him,” Autumn said, “to be forced to transition in such a way while still grieving the passing of his mom and dad.”

  “I suppose. Most of my children come to me quite traumatized, and it is through my teachings that they learn the boundaries and rules that will help them find success in the world once they age out of the system.”

  “Is Kyle Murphy a success story?”

  Helen beamed. “Oh yes. He learned very quickly how to honor and respect his elders. He learned right and wrong. He learned the tools he needed to marry and raise a family of his own.” Helen looked down at her hand, rubbed the spot on her left hand where her wedding ring had rested before she was forced to take it off earlier. “You see, marriage is sacred, and young men must be taught to honor their wives diligently.”

  “What about the girls?”

  Helen raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  “What do you teach the girls about marriage?”

  She beamed again. “Why, that’s easy. My young ladies learn how to honor their husbands in return. They learn proper etiquette and the mental fortitude to transcend any obstacle with grace and a winning smile.”

  Carla pressed her lips together when Autumn just stared at the woman.

  “So, a winning smile is the key to happiness?” Autumn asked after a moment.

  “Of course. There’s other things, of course. A pleasing tone of voice, a soft touch, the ability to spread cheer and compliments when needed.”

  Autumn drummed her fingers on her notepad. “And how to make delicious chocolate chip cookies?”

  “Of course. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

  There was a knock on the door, breaking the flow of the conversation. Carla gave Autumn a sorry look. “One moment.” She stuck her head out of the door and hissed at her youngest deputy. “What?”

  He looked startled. “You told me to tell you the minute Lisa, the young foster home girl, was ready to talk.”

  Carla inhaled deeply, forcing calm to her expression. “You’re right. I did ask that. Thank you very much.” She closed the door and offered her apology again.

  The psychologist cleared her throat. “Maybe you can help me understand something, Mrs. Mathers. If you were so successful in teaching Kyle Murphy so much, how did he transition into the Broken Hearts Killer?”

  Helen looked genuinely surprised. “Kyle?” The surprise changed to bemused calculation before changing into something else. She looked…smug. “That Kyle is a bad seed, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he isn’t the one who’s been butchering those poor people.”

  “Because marriage is sacred?”

  Helen looked at her bare ring finger again. “It is. It surely is.”

  “Is that why you directed Kyle to murder those who divorce?”

  “Of…” Helen snapped her mouth shut. “I most certainly did not.”

  “Aren’t you tired of the way people live their lives, Mrs. Murphy?” Autumn moved to the edge of her seat, her voice more urgent. “Tired of righting the wrongs of society, so you found a young man who held your same views and convinced him that he is doing society a favor by showing sinners the right way?”

  “I…no…of course not.”

  “Where is Gina Webster?”

  “I…I…” Her nostrils flared. “Ask Kyle Murphy!”

  Autumn moved closer still. “Oh, I will.”

  Helen dropped her head, her lips twitching. “Good luck with that.”

  Autumn’s green eyes registered surprise. “What do you mean by that?”

  The beaming smile was back. “Just wishing you luck, my dear.”

  “Well, that’s very kind of you. I’ll also accept your luck as I interview Lisa and Ashley in the hospital and discover just how much contact you’ve had with Kyle Murphy. I’ll accept your luck as I comb through your computer files and your telephone calls, working to connect you to a killer.”

  “You…you won’t find anything at all.”

&
nbsp; Autumn tossed her head, her red hair flying around her shoulders. “We’ll be running a fine comb through your house, Mrs. Mathers. If you have something to hide and I learn about it later, your deal with the judge will go up in smoke with only a few words.”

  “You’ll do no such thing! That’s private property!”

  “Not anymore. There are tech people crawling all over every inch as we speak. You’re in a world of trouble, Helen, and I’m sure we just know the tip of the iceberg you’ve built over these number of years. You think you’ve fooled everyone, but you haven’t fooled me, and I’ll—”

  “Stop it,” Helen screeched.

  “Do you know what they do to people like you in prison, Helen?”

  “Stop it,” she screeched again.

  Autumn stood abruptly, tucking her notepad and pencil in her bag. “Sure, I’ll stop…this interview. I’m heading to the hospital and then I’m heading to your house, and then I’ll be back with a sack full of evidence to tie you to Kyle Murphy.” The redhead planted her hands on the table between them, lowering herself until she was looking into Helen’s eyes. “I’ll not stop until I learn the truth.”

  Helen Mathers looked stunned, and she blinked rapidly as Autumn turned and strode to the door. “Wait!”

  Autumn paused with her hand on the knob.

  Helen hung her head. “The killer is Kyle Murphy. He called me yesterday and told me what he was doing. I begged him to stop. I told him—”

  Another soft knock tapped on the door, and it was Autumn this time who pulled it open to the same deputy as before, who was wearing the same embarrassed expression. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you again, but you need to see this.”

  Carla stood and took the piece of paper he handed her, then read it before handing it over to Autumn.

  The psychologist’s eyes widened, then she lifted her gaze to peer at their prisoner.

  “So, Kyle Murphy called you when?” Autumn asked, her tone flat.

  Helen made a show of remembering. “Last night. He said how awful he felt about killing that poor little Rose boy. Matthew, I believe.”

  Autumn chewed on her bottom lip, studying the woman. “That’s very interesting because this paper right here says that Kyle Murphy was found dead in the next county over, and it looks like he’s been at the bottom of a lake for about a week now.”