by Sarah Sutton
“You think he’d keep a crossbow in there?” Tara asked, knowing it was much more probable that it would be used to store a gun.
Warren shrugged. “It would be a better place to conceal a murder weapon than hanging it on the wall,” he replied before pressing a button to open the garage door. He was going to get the combination and Tara followed behind him as he walked to the car and flung the back door open.
“What’s the combination for the safe?” Warren demanded.
The man looked up at him, flustered, as he shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Uhh…” he started. “I’m not sure I remember.”
Warren gritted his teeth. “You are going to make this a lot worse for yourself if you don’t tell me.”
The man sighed but remained silent, his eyes now falling to his feet.
“Either way,” Warren began, “we’re going to get it open. We’ll blow the door off of it if we have to.”
The man finally blurted, “It’s 6801.”
Warren slammed the door as he turned back toward the garage. He was heated, but Tara knew it wasn’t just the suspect that got him to that point. He was still angry with her, and it gave Tara an unsettling feeling.
He walked over to the safe, tried the combination, and was quickly able to open the door. Tara moved closer and just over his shoulder, she could see a rifle. But Warren reached in and moved it aside, revealing arrows behind it. He pulled each one out, checking them for a brand name.
“Are they TenPoints?” Tara asked cautiously.
Warren sighed. “Doesn’t look like it, but I don’t know why he was hesitant to give me the combo. We should head back to the station and get these to forensics.” He began to collect the arrows in the safe, but then he spun around. “Did you have anything you wanted to say to me before we head back?”
Tara stood frozen. Again, she didn’t know what to say and she could feel her face growing hot at his glare.
“I…uh…” she started, but she couldn’t finish and her voice fell silent.
Warren shook his head and Tara’s heart sank. He turned back to the safe, collected everything, and then headed toward the car without speaking another word.
Chapter Nine
Tara stared at the man in the interrogation room. He sat in front of her, hunched over, sitting awkwardly in his seat, his eyes transfixed on the floor beneath him. Warren had just asked him his name and his reply only confirmed what they already knew.
“Greg Davis,” he had said, the same name of the man on the surveillance camera.
Tara’s stomach tightened into a knot as Warren continued to ask a series of questions. Normally, Warren would’ve let her start the questioning, but they hadn’t shared a word since they left the cabin, and when they walked into the room, Warren had opened his mouth without even a glance at her. It was as if she was only a shadow and she cowered in his presence like a light upon her.
Warren pulled out pictures of the three victims, slapping them down one by one on the table in front of him.
“Do these individuals look familiar to you?” he asked.
The man reached out his hand and pulled the pictures closer for a better look. He stared at them briefly before pointing at the first two victims and shaking his head. His eyes then moved to the third and he slowly picked up the picture as a look of confusion crossed his face.
“Her…I met her before…at the camping store,” he said before staring at the picture for a moment longer. “What exactly is this about?” he asked as he looked up at Warren.
The man genuinely looked puzzled and it stirred Tara’s gut instinct—that this wasn’t the killer. She wanted to step in, but as she glanced at Warren, whose gaze lay focused on the suspect, she knew it would be wiser to stay quiet.
Warren ignored his question as he leaned over the table. He placed his finger hard against the picture in the man’s hands.
“How’d you meet her?” he asked.
The man sat a bit further back in his chair, cowering at Warren’s approach.
“I…uh…she was looking for a water jug,” he responded, flustered.
“What else?” Warren demanded.
The man suddenly pushed up his sleeves from the intense heat of nerves.
“It was brief,” he started. “I told her she could find one for half the price at the convenience store down the street.”
“And what about after? What happened after you helped her?” Warren was now inches from his face.
“What do you mean? That was it.” He threw his hands up in frustration.
Warren suddenly backed off a bit and sighed.
“This woman,” he started as he pointed aggressively at her picture. “She showed up dead not long after she talked to you.”
A look of shock flashed across the man’s face. He looked up, narrowing his eyes.
“Are you accusing me of murder?” Heat rose to the surface of his skin as he grew angry at the realization. He threw his arms up yet again. “This is ridiculous!” he screamed. “Did my wife put you up to this?”
Warren scrunched his face as though confused. “Why would you think that?”
The man looked from Warren to Tara, scanning their faces, and then sighed.
“I don’t know. Maybe because she’s the only one who knew that I was staying at the cabin. How else would you’ve found me?” He muttered something angrily under his breath.
“What was that?” Warren asked as he leaned his ear in closer.
The man sighed again. “I said I wouldn’t be surprised if that bitch tried to pin something like this on me. She probably found out about Sherri,” he said, referring to the woman in the cabin. He crossed his arms. “I swear I had nothing to do with it. Check that convenience store. You’ll see I’m telling the truth.”
As Tara listened to his answers, her gut feeling only intensified. The man who sat in front of them wasn’t who they were looking for.
“Why’d you run then?” Warren asked.
The man sat quietly for a moment, and then he spoke. “Well, you saw the fight me and Sherri had. I don’t know, I thought she called the cops on me.”
***
Tara and Warren stood outside the interrogation room, looking in at Greg Davis through the one-way mirror. They stood silently, an awkwardness swirling around them until Tara couldn’t take it any longer.
“What do you think?” she asked.
Warren’s gaze stayed on the suspect as he responded. “I’m not sure. He’s clearly aggressive but he looked a bit too surprised when he realized why we were questioning him.”
“I agree,” Tara said. “We should check the convenience store.”
Warren nodded. “We’ll ask the sheriff to send some cops over to take a look, check the cameras.” He paused as his phone rang. He reached in his pocket and checked the caller ID. Tara could see that it was the medical examiner. They had been anxiously awaiting the results for the bows and arrows they brought in, and Tara knew it could only mean that they were ready.
Warren put the phone on speaker. “What’d you find?” he asked.
A woman’s voice came through. “I’m sorry to say, but it’s not the murder weapon.”
Warren’s face fell, but it only confirmed what both he and Tara already felt in their gut. “How do you know?” he asked.
“What you found were conventional compound bows, not crossbows, and a compound bow wouldn’t have caused the wound found in the victim,” she said. “A crossbow has more power. It’s deadlier.”
Warren paused. “What about the arrows, could they have been used with a crossbow?”
“It’s very unlikely,” she admitted. “The suspect’s arrows were designed for a compound bow, so they’re longer. They wouldn’t fit properly on a crossbow.”
Warren sighed, before thanking her, hanging up, and turning to Tara.
“Well, we’ll still see if his story checks out. But I think we should call it a day. Get some rest.”
Tara nodded, but Warren still
stood in front of her. He was still waiting for an explanation of what happened at the scene.
He then spoke: “Are you going to ever tell me what happened back there?”
Tara knew she couldn’t avoid it anymore. She had to say something.
“I’m really sorry, Warren…I just froze. It won’t happen again, I can promise you that.”
Warren narrowed his eyes. “The problem, Mills, is that it shouldn’t have even happened once.”
“I know…I…” Tara tried to save herself but Warren just shook his head and continued.
“You need to get it together. That can’t happen again. You understand?”
Deeply ashamed, Tara nodded as she waited for him to say more, to ask her why she froze. But instead he turned to the door and left the room.
Tara stood alone and turned her gaze toward Greg Davis, wondering if her inner demons would prevent her from seeing this case through.
Chapter Ten
Tara sat at the edge of the bed in her hotel room, flicking through channels. She and Warren didn’t speak at all on the ride back to the hotel, and once they arrived, he went right to his room with just a simple “good night,” leaving Tara unsure of her future on this case.
His words at the station hit her hard. Her past was something that she had tried to keep buried for so long, but at times the trauma crept up on her without warning, taking hold of her. It was the screams that triggered her—that much she knew—and she wondered if maybe her trauma did lay too deep. Maybe she was too damaged.
Tara shook off her thoughts as her phone beeped and she reached for it hurriedly, realizing that she had barely checked her phone all day and that it was probably John. When she looked at it, she saw a couple of texts and a missed call and she immediately called him.
“Hey,” he said, after picking up on the second ring. Tara could already hear the disappointment in his voice.
“I’m so sorry,” she started. “I’ve been so busy today, I didn’t even see your texts.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
A brief moment of silence lingered between them, until Tara tried to ease the tension. “Did your parents still come for dinner?” she finally asked.
“Yes, they did. I really wish you were here though…” he said as his voice trailed off.
Tara felt a frustration boil at John’s words. How dare he try and make me feel guilty, she thought. This had been something they spoke about numerous times—that for certain cases she would have to pick up and leave—and he gave her his full support. But now it seemed as if those conversations never existed.
“John…you know this is a big opportunity for me, right? We’ve talked about this. We…”
“I know,” he sighed, the tension easing slightly in his voice. He took a deep breath, as he began to grasp how unfair he was being. “It was just a bit shocking to get a text that you were suddenly flying to another state.” He laughed slightly at his words and Tara felt the tension ease between them. “I’ll get used to it,” he added.
Tara smiled as the conversation continued and she asked him about his parents’ visit. After all, it was their first time seeing the place after they helped them moved in.
“My mom said it looked great,” he said. “She loved how you decorated.”
Tara smiled. It was something she took much pride in—decorating her home. In some way, it made it feel more hers, more permanent.
“By the way, how was your day?” he asked.
Tara’s thoughts suddenly returned to the events of the day and her smile vanished. She didn’t want to talk about it.
There was a tinge of excited anticipation in John’s voice and she wanted to keep him there, away from the concern he would feel. The last thing she needed was for him to worry about her.
“It was good…a bit stressful…but nothing I can’t handle,” she replied.
He laughed at her vagueness. “And? Tell me more.”
A sudden heat rose to Tara’s chest. “I’m not really supposed to talk about it,” she started. “Plus it’s just been such a long day. I really don’t want to get into it right now.”
He was silent for a moment—he knew her too well—but then he responded. “You haven’t been having nightmares again, have you?”
“John, stop,” Tara snapped. It was a knee-jerk reaction, and she instantly regretted it, knowing it would only fuel his worry. “I’m fine, really, I’m just tired,” she added.
Again, he paused, considering if he should push further, but then decided against it.
“I should probably let you get to bed, then,” he finally said.
Moments later, after saying their goodbyes, Tara placed the phone down and a wave of loneliness washed through her. She was all alone now, and only she herself truly knew what she went through earlier. She raised the volume on the TV—an attempt to subside the feeling with noise. It helped slightly and she watched for a little while until her stomach growled, reminding her that she’d barely eaten anything all day.
She grabbed her phone and ordered room service. By the time it arrived, she could barely keep her eyes open. The exhaustion finally hit her. She scarfed down her food, got ready for bed, and then lay back down.
Each time she closed her eyes, the cabin came into view and all she could hear was the woman’s screams in her mind. But when she couldn’t bear it anymore, she picked up the remote, raised the volume even higher, and closed her eyes again. It was a trick she learned when she was younger, when the thoughts continued to haunt her. She focused on the sound, on the people talking on TV, until she finally drifted off into sleep.
***
She stood in front of the cabin, the woman’s screams hitting her like shards of glass—each one sending a stabbing pain through her body. She tried to inch forward—she wanted to help her—but with each step, the screams grew louder, sending her body into agonizing pain. She closed her eyes hard, focusing on the inside of her eyelids until the screams faded into a whisper and nothing could be heard at all.
But then, suddenly, the screams began again. They started quietly, building in volume upon each one and as they became clearer, Tara realized the screams were different. They didn’t sound like a stranger’s screams at all—they sounded like her mother’s.
She opened her eyes and all she could see was darkness, except for a light shining from beneath a door in front of her. She was in a closet. She could smell the soft leather of her mother’s jacket that she wore everywhere she went, and as Tara looked down at her feet, she was met with the cold, bare feet of her younger self—the feet of a little girl.
Her mother’s screaming got louder and Tara reached for the doorknob. She held it in her grasp for a moment as it vibrated in her shaking hand, but she was too afraid to turn it. Suddenly, her body jumped at the sound of a door flung open in the distance. She heard one more agonizing scream, and then it faded into nothing, until it was replaced by a whimpering that Tara recognized as her father’s.
She hadn’t even known that her father was home and the sound of his cries frightened her, for she had never heard her father cry. Maybe he was looking for her. Maybe he was scared too.
Tara stepped out of the closet and walked down the hall—following her father’s cries—but her feet stopped short as she felt a warm liquid between her toes. She looked down and her mind suddenly swirled into a haze. Blood covered her feet, and as she looked toward the living room, she was met with her mother’s blank stare, and a pool of blood.
Her father stood over her mother, and for a moment, he didn’t even realize Tara stood in front of him. He just looked down at her mother, a blank stare in his eyes, until he slowly picked up his head.
His eyes moved to the corner of the room—an area Tara couldn’t see from the hallway she stood in—and he stared at it longingly until he spoke to it.
“Why?” he asked, with disbelief reflecting in his eyes.
There was no answer and then her father’s eyes suddenly moved toward Tara, realizing
she stood there for the first time, and his face abruptly morphed into something else—a look Tara hated. It was the look he had given her mother many times before when she angered him.
“I had to do it,” he said. “You understand, right?”
Tara stood terrified, feeling her mother’s blood begin to dry on her bare feet.
“You’re not going to tell anyone about this, right?”
Tara’s small body stood frozen. She looked at her mom, hoping she would wake up and help her, but all she could see was the blank stare in her eyes, and she knew she was all alone.
“Right?” he repeated. “You’re not going to tell anyone.”
A smile began to creep on his face, an attempt to calm her as he crept forward.
But Tara knew what she had to do next. She turned on her heels and ran. She ran down the hall, toward the front entrance. She ran past her bedroom and past her parents’ room. She could see the front door as she approached the dining room, as she heard his footsteps behind her begin to pick up into a run.
She could see through the storm door and that her neighbor was in her driveway, pulling groceries from her car. Tara screamed and cried uncontrollably as she flung the door open. The startled neighbor looked over at her.
Suddenly, Tara jumped up in bed, and was relieved to find herself in her hotel room. It was just a dream, she told herself as she reached for the lamp next to her bed. Light filled the room, and Tara focused on her breathing, slowing the rhythm of her heart. It was her most vivid dream yet and Tara rubbed her hand, wiping away the coolness of the doorknob she could still feel.
Afraid to close her eyes, she stared at the TV as she wondered again if maybe she wasn’t strong enough for this case.
Chapter Eleven
Maya Green let out a laugh as her boyfriend kissed her neck.
“Why you always gotta laugh?” he asked with a smile of amusement on his face.