The Promisor: A Suspense Thriller

by Dustin Stevens

  “Except the person that killed them,” McKeon replied.

  Lifting his left hand from his thigh, Reed placed it atop Billie’s head. Sliding his fingers through the thick fur, he felt her ears flatten to either side, allowing him to reach clear down to the scalp.

  “Except that.”

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Detective McKeon had informed Reed that Gillian Lawson was eight months pregnant, but the full impact of such a thing had failed to fully resonate. A detail that Reed had filed away at the time, shunting it aside in favor of the more pressing matters of the crime scene itself.

  An oversight that became readily apparent the moment he introduced himself to the woman not just from her physical appearance, but from the additional emotional toll of the loss of her husband. Devastation that somehow surpassed even that of Harrison Salem, adding in the effects of spiking hormones and the terror of what lay ahead.

  Two things that had caused the interview to be a start and stop affair, never making it through more than a couple of questions before they were forced to break. Momentary pauses as she succumbed to sobbing, often while muttering questions about what she was going to do or how she could raise a child without her husband.

  Even the occasional wondering of how she would ever share with their impending little one what had just taken place.

  Inquiries that Reed had no answer for, reduced to making sure the woman had plenty of tissues and giving her all the time she needed. Actions that, like so much else in the last couple of days, felt woefully inadequate.

  “I’m so sorry,” Gillian whispered, pulling her fist and the wad of tissues gripped tight in it away from her face. “You’d think after doing this all night I’d be about out of tears, but...”

  Her voice barely more than a whisper by the last word, she let it fall away without attempting to finish the sentence.

  “No need,” Reed replied, his voice lowered to match hers. “We’re the ones that should be apologizing. Believe me, if it wasn’t absolutely vital to us finding and stopping the person that did this, we would not be putting you through this right now.”

  Tilting her head back, Gillian sniffled loudly. Attempting to draw in air, she bobbed her chin up and down, steeling herself to continue.

  Despite being well into the third term of her pregnancy, barely was it visible anywhere beyond her midsection. A stomach bulge that was decidedly at odds with her slender limbs and cheekbones that were still readily apparent.

  Several years younger than her husband, she looked to be Reed’s age at most. Dark features with skin unmarred by lines or wrinkles save the puffiness around her eyes and the moisture lining her cheeks.

  Hair pulled back behind her, Reed could see the tail of it swinging slightly as she shook her head to either side.

  “No. If my being here keeps someone else from ever going through this, if it is the last thing I ever do for Avery...”

  Again, her voice trailed off. More fluid leaked from her eyes, following the tracks already resting atop her skin.

  “Okay,” Reed said, putting things into order his head. Questions that he outlined on the drive over. Topics he wanted to cover broken into chunks, concentrating first on her husband himself.

  A collection of inquiries that had revealed nominally more than what Reed and Deke had been able to uncover the night before. Small snippets and anecdotes that added personalization to the basic framework that they’d been able to amass digging through the man’s records.

  Born and raised in the area, the furthest he had ever ventured away was to Cincinnati for college. A baseball scholarship that had ended with a torn rotator cuff, though not before meeting his future wife and fulfilling his requirements for a degree in civil engineering.

  After graduation, they had moved north to Columbus, where she continued her education and he accepted a position with the city. A job he - based on what Gillian had been told - was quite good at, ascending quickly through the ranks.

  Managing to find the rarest of work situations, it was also something he enjoyed. Twice, he had turned down offers to go into the private sector, even after she herself had done so. When his parents died and they relocated to Newark, he chose to make the daily commute.

  A story that managed to achieve two things simultaneously, the first of those being to confirm each of the thoughts Reed had the night before. Notions that he had while standing in the bathroom over the man’s lifeless body and others still that arose while he and Deke were peering through everything that existed about him online.

  A collection of impressions much in line with what he encountered in Gallipolis, Lawson in no way deserving what had happened to him. Another individual that was well liked and without apparent enemies, no obvious motive behind their death existing.

  The second thing the ongoing discussion managed to pull forth was an outcropping of the first. Growing frustration, not with what was being shared, but in the senseless nature of it. The seemingly random goals that were driving it, making targets out of people that were far afield from those who Reed was normally investigating.

  “I’m going to ask you a series of questions now that might not make a lot of sense,” Reed said. Flicking his gaze over to McKeon leaning against the wall, he saw the man twirl the elongated cup of coffee, the scent strong within the small conference room.

  “Names and places that we believe may be connected to what happened to your husband.”

  Raising the wad of tissues, Gillian ran them along the underside of her nose. “Alright.”

  “Has your husband had any dealings in Gallipolis?” Reed asked.

  A crease appeared between her brows as she shook her head. “No.”

  “You’re sure? Not for work or a fishing trip or anything like that?”

  “Oh, no,” Gillian replied. “Like I said, Avery worked for the city, so everything he did was in the area. Beyond that, I know he did a little bit of hunting growing up, but I can’t remember him doing anything like that since we’ve been married.

  “I don’t even think he owned a fishing pole.”

  As Reed had told both Sheriff Meigs and Chief Scott two days before, he didn’t believe the location had anything to do with what happened. He simply wanted to start with the easiest question, getting Gillian’s unbiased response, before moving on to anything tougher.

  “Okay,” Reed replied, “how about the name Cara Salem?”

  Again, the look of concentration fell over her features. The crease returned, this time deeper than before as she thought on it, sifting through a mental Rolodex.

  A process that took longer than the previous before ending in the same way.

  “Not that I can ever remember,” Gillian replied.

  “Alex Aquino?” Reed asked.

  “The criminal?” Gillian asked, her brows rising slightly. “What was it? Drugs, or something like that?”

  Having purposely saved that name for last, Reed wasn’t terribly surprised she had heard it before. Living in Columbus until just a short time prior, there was a good chance she had spotted it on the news at some point or heard people talking of it around town.

  Saved heuristics that he was careful not to trigger earlier, not wanting to contaminate any information she might have to share.

  “Guns,” Reed replied. “Do you know, did your husband-”

  “Oh, no,” Gillian replied. “Never. I just remember hearing it a couple times on the news. It’s not a terribly common name, kind of stays with you.”

  Flicking her gaze over to McKeon and back, she asked, “I thought I remembered he was sent to prison. Is he involved in this somehow?”

  “No,” Reed said, preparing to explain how Aquino was possibly a person tangential to the case, when his attention was drawn to the side. A reflexive reaction to the face of his phone lighting up beside him.

  A flare of light signaling an incoming text message, the source a familiar string of digits. A number that wasn’t saved, but he had used several times i
n the last few days, most recently just eight hours prior.

  “One moment, please.”

  Extending a hand, he drew the device over, cradling it before him. Tapping on the screen, he brought the message up, a single sentence that pulled the air from his lungs, his eyes widening as he stared at it.

  Harrison says he doesn’t know Avery Lawson, but he used to work some with a Gillian Lawson from up that way. That help?

  Chapter Sixty

  There was not the slightest hint of grog in Deke’s voice as he answered the phone. Nothing to insinuate that Reed had pulled him from slumber despite the hour being well before noon, his friend’s preferred time of rising.

  A state of alertness that Reed attributed far more to Deke having mentioned that he would be up late working than that he was getting an early start on the day.

  “Hey, dude,” Deke answered, employing his trademark greeting. “Was just about to dive into that food you brought over. What’s up?”

  An opening that caused Detective McKeon to arch a single eyebrow, Reed bypassed any form of explanation for the time being. Back in McKeon’s office, he stood with his hands on either hip, staring down at his phone resting atop the desk.

  On the opposite side of it, McKeon did the same, Billie on her feet between them, feeding off the physiological spikes in the room.

  Natural reactions to the message Meigs had sent that hurtled through Reed’s body the instant he read it, causing him to rise from his seat. Excusing himself from Gillian, he had led McKeon straight back down the hallway to the man’s office, not bothering to fully share what he’d just learned before pulling up his phone log and putting in the call to Deke.

  “We were looking in the wrong place,” Reed said, blurting the words straight out. A phrase he’d been thinking for the last several minutes since seeing the message, a deluge of small details falling into place almost instantly.

  Things as far ranging as Harrison’s prior experience as a prosecutor to Gillian mentioning she had gone into the private sector and having such an immediate reaction to the mention of Alex Aquino.

  “The wrong place?” Deke asked, making no effort to mask the confusion in his voice.

  “Well, not the wrong place, but at the wrong people,” Reed said. Lifting his gaze from the phone to McKeon, he said, “Harrison Salem says he knows Gillian Lawson. They used to work together.”

  Across from him, McKeon’s jaw sagged slightly. A look of dawning to match what Reed felt just moments before.

  “The connection isn’t with the victims themselves.”

  “Oh, damn,” Deke muttered. Two words perfectly encapsulating the sentiment inside the small office.

  A response that lingered for just a moment before the clattering of a keyboard erupted, Deke immediately falling to work. A flurry of activity that ended as fast as it began with the statement, “Okay, I got her here. Gillian Lawson, an attorney with Briggmeyer, Howell, & King.”

  Voice detached, as if he was reading, he added, “According to her bio here, she is a graduate of the Capital University School of Law and started her career with the Franklin County Public Defender’s Office before moving over.”

  “That’s it,” Reed whispered. “That’s got to be it.”

  The last job Harrison held prior to moving back to Gallipolis was as a junior prosecutor. A role that would have pitted him on the opposite side from Gillian, but still would have had them interacting fairly often, depending on which particular courts they worked out of.

  An affiliation that wouldn’t have allowed them to be close enough for Cara’s name to ring a bell with Gillian, but would definitely prompt Harrison to say he used to work with her.

  “Deke, how you looking on time right now?” Reed asked.

  “I’ve got no plans,” Deke replied.

  “Would it be possible for you to go through and cull together all the cases that Salem and Lawson might be connected to? Whether as the lead counsel or even just assisting?”

  “Sure thing,” Deke said. “Might take a little while, though.”

  “How long we talking?” Reed asked.

  “Depending on numbers?” Deke asked. “I saw, maybe forty-five or so?”

  Lifting his focus from the phone, Reed sighted in on McKeon. “Can you go and ask Gillian if we can break for one hour? Explain to her what’s going on and what we’re doing?”

  His expression hinting he still wasn’t exactly sure as to what that was, McKeon let it go with a simple nod. “Sure. Should I ask her to stick around or—”

  “Either way,” Reed replied. With each word that spilled out, his mind began to work faster. Connective threads that were starting to fall into order and next steps that needed to be performed.

  Items that, now that they were given a heading, felt like they needed to occur as fast as possible, before anything more occurred.

  “Take her for food or something if you want even, just make sure to have her back in an hour.”

  Quite obvious that there were still a great many questions as yet unstated, the detective managed to keep them in. Responding merely with a nod, he slid around the side of the desk and exited, leaving Reed and Billie alone his office.

  “Deke, that work for you?” Reed asked.

  “A full hour?” Deke replied. “Shoot, that even gives me enough time to eat first.”

  Unable to help the corner of his mouth from curling back in a smile, Reed replied, “Enjoy. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  Snatching the phone up from the desk, Reed ended the call there. Barely waiting for the screen to clear, he went back into his saved log, dropping down just a couple of entries before spotting the same number that had popped up on his screen just a short time before.

  Choosing to keep this one off the open airwaves, he hit send and pressed it to his face.

  A moment later, Sheriff Meigs was on the line.

  “Hey,” she answered, “sorry for texting, but I remembered you saying you had an interview this morning and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  Brushing past the apology entirely, Reed went straight to his reason for calling.

  “Is Harrison with you now?”

  “He is.”

  “Keep him there. We’ll call you guys back in one hour.”

  Chapter Sixty-One

  The meeting took the full allotted sixty minutes to cull together. A mad scramble involving multiple moving parts. A frenetic burst of phone calls and activity that served as a much better jolt to Reed’s system than any form of liquid caffeine ever could.

  A surge of natural chemicals that had him practically bouncing in place at the head of the small conference room table inside the Newark Police Department. A heightened state that Billie could seemingly feel emanating from him, her presence never more than a couple of feet away.

  A coiled ball of energy wrapped in black fur, needing only to be given a heading before exploding forward.

  “Okay,” Reed opened. Standing behind the same chair he’d been using earlier while interviewing Gillian Lawson, he clutched the roll of padding resting along the top. Fingers extended into talons, he alternately clenched and relaxed them, an unthinking reaction to the various feelings roiling through him.

  “Since we’ve got people from all over the state on the line right now, let me start with a roll call to make sure everybody got on okay and so we all know who is taking part today. Starting here in Newark, we have myself and my K-9 partner, Billie. Along with us are Detective Mark McKeon and Officers Pat Welsh and Wendy Dianason, NPD, and Gillian Lawson, formerly of the Franklin County Public Defender’s Office.”

  Fully aware of Gillian’s fragile state, Reed was careful not to mention her other, more direct connection to the case.

  “On the line, starting in Gallia County, we should have Sheriff Valerie Meigs and former Junior Prosecutor Harrison Salem. That right?”

  “We’re here,” Meigs replied, her voice raised to be heard over the line.

  “Good,” Reed replied. �
��And nearby there at the Gallipolis Police Department, Chief Liam Scott?”

  A professional courtesy that Reed had extended in acknowledgement of the man’s help the last couple of days and the fact that he was still holding the Oxiles twins. An inclusion that was floated by Meigs before being offered, the sheriff hemming and hawing a bit before agreeing that it was probably the right thing to do.

  “Here,” Scott replied.

  “Thanks for joining us,” Reed said. “Over in the Hilliard area, we have Derek Chamberlain – who many of you will hear me refer to as Deke – who will be handling online research and tech wizardry for us, and Captain Wallace Grimes with the 8th Precinct, my liaison with both the CPD and the governor’s office. Guys?”

  “Here,” Grimes replied.

  “All set,” Deke added, Reed imagining him having to consciously refrain from employing his usual greeting.

  The moment the introductions were complete and all parties identified, Reed launched right into a quick overview of where things stood. The two incidents that had taken place and the connection that had been drawn. A tenuous link that he was quick to acknowledge was in its infancy and not yet fleshed out, that being the reason for the call.

  Taking special care to sanitize things as much as possible for the sakes of Harrison and Gillian, Reed pushed on as quickly as he could. A full rundown that took several minutes to get completely through before finally reaching the reason for the call.

  The thing he’d been thinking about since the instant he saw the text from Meigs, the first small fissure in the killer’s plan having revealed itself.

  A crack that he hoped was about to burst open wide, revealing whatever else was needed for them to put a stop to what was happening.

  “That all being said,” Reed continued, “the only commonality we have been able to find between the two cases – aside from the shooter and the weapon used – has been the brief work history shared between the two people joining us on the call today.”