by Barb Han
She couldn’t agree more with what he said. There was no reason for her to be exposed more than necessary.
His cell phone buzzed and she assumed that meant the file was coming through.
“I have a laptop and an overnight bag in the backseat.”
She quirked a brow.
“Don’t always get a ton of notice when I have to head out. I keep most everything in the trunk of my sedan. The bag here is just for backup,” he explained.
Her mind was still churning over what they’d just learned but she nodded. She was interested in hearing the details of his job. Staying focused when her mind was reeling proved harder than expected.
A serial killer? That couldn’t be. How would she explain the two men chasing her yesterday if Autumn was killed by a serial killer? Hit men weren’t serial killers and they usually didn’t have henchmen.
Oh, Autumn. More of those fresh tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked them back. At least she felt something besides numb. Had her sister been in a relationship with a murderer and not realized it until it was too late? What kind of person seduced his intended victims?
Dawson pulled off the highway and into a big chain hotel. She straightened her baseball cap.
“I’ll check us in and be right back.” Dawson left the truck idling and headed inside the lobby. He was back a few minutes later, card keys in hand. He slipped into the driver’s seat and then pulled ahead to a parking spot.
Summer kept her chin to her chest as she exited the truck and waited for Dawson. He quickly grabbed his emergency bag from the backseat before locking up the truck and joining her.
He put his arm around her, shielding her from other eyes. To onlookers, the move might seem intimate. A husband and wife stopping off at a roadside hotel on their way somewhere else.
She knew he was covering as much of her as was humanly possible. She was able to hide more of her body and face.
Their room was on the fifth floor, number 510. Dawson opened the door to the small suite. There was a microwave and a mini fridge in the entryway along with a coffee maker and an assortment of coffees and teas. The bathroom was larger than the one in her Washington apartment. The shower was travertine tile and the vanity area was large enough for half a cosmetic store.
The main room had a work desk, a small table with four chairs and a seating area. A flat screen TV took up half the wall in the living room. There was a comfortable if slightly worn sofa and two armchairs along with a marble coffee table.
This place was larger than her apartment back home. Home. Where was that anymore? Home was a foreign word to her now. Thinking about a future without Autumn was like walking forever in the dark, knowing light was out there in the distance but too far for her to see it.
Until she looked at Dawson and saw a glimmer of hope. Hope that she might somehow find her way through this darkness and toward the sun again. Hope that she might not want to spend the rest of her life alone. Hope she could have things she’d long ago dreamed about but never believed would be.
Anger seeded because she didn’t want to think about a future that didn’t involve her sister. Where did she even start?
“There’s only one bed in the suite. It’s yours. I can make myself comfortable here on the couch,” Dawson said by way of explanation.
“That won’t be a problem. I trust you. You can sleep in the same bed. I don’t want to put you out.” She was rewarded with a smile.
“It’s no trouble.” Dawson set his bag down, unzipped it and pulled out his laptop. He positioned it on the marble coffee table.
Summer moved next to him on the sofa and curled her left leg underneath her bottom.
“I want you to be prepared for the fact there are going to be graphic pictures. There’s nothing wrong with skipping that part if you—”
She was already shaking her head. “I need to look at them. There might be something about her that reminds me of my sister. Something you wouldn’t catch that I would.”
Nothing in Summer wanted the images of a murdered Cheryl Tanning imprinted in her mind. But this was important. She would do whatever it took to find justice for her sister. This was the best way to see if there were any similarities.
He looked into her eyes like he was searching for confirmation it was okay to move forward. She gave him a slight nod before he fixed his gaze on the screen and opened a protected link.
There were two files in the one marked, Tanning Murder. The picture file contained two folders: evidence and victim. He clicked on the one marked Victim, and the screen was filled with thumbnails. He pulled up the first.
Cheryl Tanning’s lifeless violet eyes fixed on a point above her. Her eyes were striking. Summer was always told that she and her sister had very rare-colored eyes. There was something haunting about the pair she was looking at.
Other than that, Cheryl Tanning was a beautiful young woman. She had pale skin and ruby-red lips. She had slightly darker hair than Summer and Autumn, and blunt-cut bangs. She was stunning. There was no question about that.
Dawson clicked on another photo and it was a full-body shot at the crime scene. Based on the photo, she looked to be about the same size as Autumn. Similar figures.
“This bastard likes a certain type.” Dawson muttered a few more choice words under his breath.
She’d picked up on the similarities, too.
Her heart battered her rib cage as a weight dropped down around her arms. There was what looked like a wire wrapped around Cheryl’s neck. They now knew it was a string from a violin.
What were the odds that Autumn would be killed by a similar method, two and a half years later? They had to be slim.
An icy chill gripped Summer’s spine as she looked through the crime scene photos one by one. Dawson opened the case file next. A short description of the murder outlined that Cheryl Tanning had been found in an old dried up well on the back of someone’s land. A group of teens who routinely rode dirt bikes on the property had stopped because of what they described as a smell that made them physically sick.
When they investigated, expecting to find an animal carcass, they received the shock of a lifetime when they found a body instead. All of the teens had been traumatized by the finding and during the course of the investigation had been cleared of any involvement.
There’d been a mystery man, who Cheryl’s friends confirmed she’d been very secretive about.
“Do you think he was married?” Summer asked as she pointed to the screen.
“It’s possible. A married man could have a lot to lose if word got out that he was having an affair.” Dawson confirmed.
“It’s Austin, so my mind snaps to a married politician,” she admitted.
“Can’t be ruled out. But those aren’t the only powerful men in the capital or men with something to lose if word of an affair got out. There are three things we look for in a murder investigation: means, motive and opportunity,” he stated.
“Opportunity wouldn’t be difficult in a secret affair. The person would be used to meeting one-on-one in possibly secluded locations,” she reasoned.
“True. Affairs are sticky. She was hiding his identity and was protective of him, which gives me the impression he was the power broker in the relationship.”
“Someone older than her? Someone smarter or more cunning? Someone used to getting exactly what he wants from people?” she asked.
“That’s along the lines of what I’m thinking,” he confirmed. “I’d add to that someone who stands to lose a lot, be it money, prestige or social standing if an affair is uncovered.”
“A murder conviction would rock his world.” She caught herself tapping her finger on the marble coffee table as her brain started working overtime.
“Attorneys, bankers, anyone with a professional license would be in jeopardy.”
“Look here.” Summer point
ed to the screen. “It says at least one of her friends thought she was getting depressed. He blames the affair.”
“The jerk could’ve been manipulating her, asking her to do things she didn’t want to. She might’ve complied for fear of losing him.”
Autumn could be a manipulator. But the shoe could easily have been on the other foot. She wasn’t strong mentally, and when it came down to it, a person could exercise power over her.
* * *
CHERYL TANNING HAD no visible signs of molestation. There was no DNA left on her body or found on the scene. Nothing under her fingernails. No sign that she’d fought back.
She’d been secretly dating someone. There was nothing in her cell phone record that would indicate she’d been seeing someone. Her credit cards showed no unusual activity. At least one of her friends regretted teasing her about being a call girl, saying she started having a lot more cash than usual. The response had been that Cheryl stopped returning calls and texts for a while.
The strangulation came from behind. The method of killing was personal. The killer would have to have been literally standing right behind Cheryl. She didn’t fight back, so maybe she thought her lover was playing a joke or trying to arouse her.
There were several bruises on Cheryl’s body in varying stages of healing. She worked as a waitress and took night school classes. A waitressing job could explain the bruises on her thighs and arms. But so could sexual exploration.
A defense attorney might argue Cheryl Tanning liked it rough in the bedroom. Or, at the very least, participated. Even if her lover had been identified, he wasn’t necessarily guilty. Although, this kind of killing was personal. Staring at the evidence and the summary, Dawson was convinced the murderer was someone inside her circle despite the way the body had been dumped down the well.
The killer might have panicked. The police officer’s report stated there’d been leaves tossed into the well after her body. Covering her up? Or covering her? As strange as it sounded, the sicko might have been covering her so she wouldn’t get cold.
Dawson had seen enough deranged and sadistic people to last a lifetime. So, the leaves could actually be a sign of caring in a twisted way. Or a type of burial depending on religious affiliation. Even some cold-blooded killers believed they were spiritual. Hell, some killed out of ritual.
In this case, though, this bastard seemed well on his way to becoming a serial killer. The rule of thumb was three murders spread out over time.
If this killer believed that Autumn had lived, he would stop at nothing to silence her. There were all kinds of questions racing around in Dawson’s mind.
“She didn’t have a family, either,” Summer noted.
“But Autumn did have a family. She had you.”
“He didn’t know that. Think about it, she hid me from you, too. I barely knew about you and the two of you were married.” She made a good point. “Except that you weren’t really.”
“True.” He rocked his head. “Then, that’s part of his MO.”
“Maybe he thinks no one will notice that they’ve gone missing and it’ll give him more time to cover his tracks.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Dawson pulled out the notepad and pen that he’d tucked into his emergency bag. He jotted down the fact the perp isolated his victims.
“Why did he decide to kill her, though?” she asked. “Like when did he know? The minute he started the affair?”
“It’s possible. If Cheryl is his first victim, and so far Gert hasn’t found any other that match this MO, he might have started the affair not knowing how it would end. At some point, he knew he was going to kill her.”
“When he was done with her?”
“It’s likely.” He feared those words were like a physical blow. Of course, Summer would take them personally considering her sister was involved.
“My sister must’ve been scared of him. She might have felt backed into a corner with no way out,” she continued.
It explained a lot about how she’d acted when he’d first met her and her actions after the fact. More of those puzzle pieces were clicking together.
“Do you think she figured out what happened to his former girlfriend?” she asked.
“It’s highly possible.”
“I just don’t understand why she didn’t go to law enforcement and explain her situation or tell me.”
“Abusive men are master manipulators. He could’ve made her feel like he’d find her no matter where she went—”
“She could’ve come to me. I would’ve helped her find a way out of this.”
“And she might think she would be bringing him right to your doorstep,” he countered.
“The necklace. My name. You said it was one of her most prized possessions.” Puzzle pieces were clicking together in her mind, too.
She tapped on the words they’d written on the notepad earlier. Protect loved one.
Chapter Twelve
A picture was emerging. Autumn had gotten into an unhealthy relationship that possibly even turned abusive. She didn’t want Summer to know and so a couple of years ago, she withdrew.
The relationship became more than Autumn could handle. Luckily, she must not have told the guy about Summer. She’d kept her sister’s identity safe and the necklace bearing her name locked in a box that she’d most likely kept hidden.
One day, Autumn decided enough was enough, or maybe things got heated between them and she began to fear for her life. Rather than go to Summer, and bring that blaze along with her, Autumn found a small town to hide in. Maybe she wanted to lay low.
Then, she met Dawson. He was honest and kind. It probably didn’t hurt matters that he was smokin’ hot. Maybe she even fell for him, fast and hard. He was everything she didn’t have with the other guy.
There were perks to living with Dawson. He lived on a remote property and worked in law enforcement. As did several of his brothers. Autumn couldn’t have asked for more or better protection. Her conscience got the best of her and she couldn’t commit Dawson to an actual marriage, so she made up a pregnancy story, insisted on a low-key affair and then hired an internet guy who didn’t care if proper papers were filed or not. It was a lot but sounded just like her sister to do something like this.
Summer relayed her theory to Dawson. It was met with nods of approval and that meant she was on the right path.
“The divorce makes no sense to me, though,” she confessed.
“It was possible that he’d found her, or that she thought he would. She wasn’t acting right in those last few weeks we were together. At the time, I chalked it up to her losing the baby. I tried to give her time and space to heal. I figured she would talk when she was ready but she just closed up. She stopped leaving the property and slept a lot of the time.”
“Your logic sounds reasonable. Except that we both know there was no baby. So, he must’ve gotten to her somehow.” How? was the question of the day. There was another bigger question...who?
“There were three suspects at the top of a short list in Cheryl’s murder,” Dawson said, pointing to the screen. “Sean Menendez, a creepy janitor, Jasper Holden, coffee shop worker and Drake Yarnell, ex-boyfriend.”
“Okay. Where do we even start?” Something had been gnawing at the back of Summer’s mind. She stared at the notebook page rather than the screen. Why was the name Charley bugging Summer?
“Is this exactly how my sister spelled the name, Charley? Just like it’s written?” she asked Dawson.
“Yes. Why?”
She picked up the pen and wrote Cheryl next to Charley. “Does anything about this strike you as odd?”
“If I rearrange the letters and add an a the names are alike?” He rocked his head. “Look at that.”
“She knew about Cheryl.” That was the reason her sister was afraid. She knew about the murder.
“It’s possible. She might have stumbled on a name and went to investigate. I can’t imagine why she’d go back to Austin under the circumstances.” Dawson tapped his finger on the screen. “We can start by interviewing Menendez, Holden and Yarnell.”
More of those puzzle pieces Dawson had talked about before were being discovered. Finding where they fit and how they fit together was another story. Summer would take the progress. “I’m wondering why my sister went to the same coffee shop as Cheryl. Autumn didn’t seem afraid to make her face known.”
“It’s possible she found evidence linking the murderer to the crime. If the perp found her in Katy Gulch, she had to know he would find her anywhere.”
“Maybe he didn’t know she’d found him out,” Summer reasoned. “He could’ve convinced her to come back to Austin. Possibly even set her up in an apartment. Wine and dine her. She technically got away once. If this guy is a master manipulator, he might have convinced my sister that he loved her. He might have brought her back under his control.”
Dawson nodded some more.
“He wasn’t able to finish the job before. He wouldn’t be able to let it go if he intended to kill her all along.”
“What a sick bastard,” Summer said.
“Agreed.” The muscle in Dawson’s jaw clenched.
“Then we’re thinking that he lured her back in town.” Summer hated the thought her sister could be manipulated. If the jerk said the right things, though, she could see her sister going back to him unless she knew he’d killed his other lover.
Autumn had had a knack for picking up guys who obsessed over her. At least until she’d met Dawson. He was the most levelheaded and down-to-earth person she’d ever met.
Summer hated all the secrets her sister held inside and all the lies. She hated that her sister couldn’t just live a normal life and follow through on the dream of opening their own business. And she hated that she hadn’t been able to protect her sister.