by Kit Ehrman
* * *
The next day, they removed another tube and moved me into a regular room. I pressed them about a release date, but they said it was still too soon to tell, so instead, I wondered when they would allow visitors. Rachel in particular.
My next visitor was not Rachel, however, but Detective Ralston.
He snagged a chair and dragged it over to the bed. "You're looking a damn sight better than the last time I saw you."
"Yeah. I can hardly wait to get out of here."
"Your doctor says you're doing well, all things considered."
"Did he say when I'd be getting out?"
He chuckled. "No. Dorsett's out of ICU."
"I know. When they wheeled him down the hall, they let him stop in for a minute."
Ralston swung the chair around backward and straddled it. "The investigation's moving along nicely. Besides what happened at Foxdale, we've linked John Harrison to the murder of James Peters and to your abduction in February. It's also looking good for connecting him with the murders of David Rowe and Larry Jacob, the two I mentioned the other night."
I shut my mouth with a snap. "How'd you do that?"
"When we searched their farm, we found some interesting things. Your wallet, for one. The older brother, John, kept something from each victim in a bedroom dresser."
"Jesus." I swallowed and closed my eyes. "What about Pennsylvania?"
"The boyfriend confessed. They'd been arguing all weekend, and apparently it escalated into a physical confrontation. He struck her hard enough that it killed her. Afterwards, he remembered reading about the Peter's case in the newspaper and pretended his girlfriend was victim number two."
"What about the stolen horses?" I said.
"There wasn't a theft. They'd sold the horses a month earlier, and apparently that's what they were arguing about." Ralston pulled a plastic evidence bag out of his jacket pocket and tossed it on the bed. "You might be interested in this."
Inside was an envelope addressed to my Post Office box and a wrinkled sheet of white, lined paper. I smoothed the plastic on my thigh, flattened the paper with my fingers, and squinted at the small script. Although the note was unsigned, whoever had written it had identified John Harrison as someone who used a rig that matched the description of the one I'd been looking for. I looked up at Ralston.
"It came in yesterday's mail," he said. "We impounded the truck owned by T&T Industries and compared the tire tread with the casts taken in the Rowe case." Ralston smiled briefly. "They matched."
"Good."
"As soon as we confronted Timbrook with that bit of information, we couldn't shut him up. It seems that John Harrison had tipped him off about the Peters farm being for sale, but he had no idea Harrison had been involved in Peters disappearance and death. Because the land butted up against Piney Run Park, T&T Industries made more on the deal than they'd expected, so Timbrook actively began pursuing land bordering the state park system."
"Which led him to the Ritter farm," I said.
Ralston nodded. "That deal went through smoothly, but Timbrook was greedy. Like you suspected, when he couldn't persuade Foxdale's owner to sell, he asked John and Robert to make trouble for the farm, but he swears up, down, and sideways that he never meant for anyone to get hurt."
I handed the letter back to Ralston and thought about Elsa. Had she known what was going on? Was that why she had warned me about Robby?
"And you were right about something else. "June of last year, Peters reported Harrison to the Montgomery County Humane Society for cruelty."
"God." After a while, I said, "How could it happen? How could two people become so . . . twisted?"
Detective Ralston rubbed his chin. There was more color to his face, and he was freshly shaven. He wasn't wearing the wire-rims of the day before, and I wondered if he wore contacts. "Maybe they learned by example. The father's done time for sexual battery, assault with a deadly weapon, aggravated assault. Right now, he's in for statutory rape. John had a few minor brushes with the law when he was younger, all misdemeanors--"
"He got smarter."
"What? Oh, yeah. Robert managed to stay clean until now."
The florescent tube above my head hummed softly. "What about Elsa?"
Ralston shrugged. "There's nothing to indicate she knew what her husband and brothers were up to, but the fact that she warned you implies otherwise. As far as the cousin's concerned, the one who owns the trailer, I don't think he knew they were using it for anything illegal. Oh, and the District Attorney's office is investigating Sanders. So far, they've found claims on four different horses "
"Wow." I shifted my pillow. "Heard anything about Robby?"
Ralston shook his head. "Nothing."
* * *
After lunch, I fell asleep. Sometime during my nap, the pain medication wore off. I floated upward on a rising wave of pain and jerked awake with a start. Rachel was sitting beside my bed, her fingers entwined in mine, and she looked scared. Her face looked stiff, and a tremor worked at the corner of her mouth. I could only guess how my face must have looked before I'd come fully awake.
"Hey," I mumbled.
She stood up. Her skin was pale in the florescent light. "Oh God, Steve. Should I get a nurse?"
"No." I squeezed her hand. "I'm okay, really. When I first wake up, sometimes it's rough, but I'm better now."
"Oh, Steve." She hugged me.
I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She rested her head on my chest. Her arms trembled in little spasms, and I could tell she was crying. I ran my fingers through her hair and closed my eyes. Her warm tears seeped through the hospital gown.
"Hey, it's okay," I said.
She lifted her head, and her black hair swung forward and brushed against my chin. When I smoothed it back behind her ear and kissed her cheek, she moved her lips over mine and kissed me, then she looked into my eyes.
"I love you," she whispered.
###
TITLES IN THE SERIES
At Risk
Dead Man's Touch
Cold Burn
Triple Cross
VISIT ME ONLINE
https://www.kitehrman.com
https://kitehrman.blogspot.com/
https://www.myspace.com/stephen_cline
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First off, I would like to thank Bill Tapply and Steven Havill who helped me get it right. A special thanks goes to Susan Francoeur whose unbiased feedback gave me confidence early on. I would also like to thank Sgt. Rick McGill, (retired) of the Laurel Police Department for putting up with my numerous procedural questions. Any and all mistakes are mine. Thanks also to Donna Marsh (You were right!), Connie Kiviniemi-Baylor, Almo Smith, and Teddy Saddoris. I am especially grateful to everyone at Poisoned Pen Press, especially Barbara Peters, a.k.a. TEE, and Robert Rosenwald, without whose faith and hard work this book would never have seen the light of day.
And finally, thanks to my family and my two wonderful sons, Phil and Ray, who good-naturedly put up with the writing process.