by Susan Lund
"Thrilling if you can do it, I imagine." A beat passed without a word. Then Eugene frowned. "Have you been practicing your shooting?"
She shook her head. "Not since we went to the range. But I am going to buy my own handgun. Just in case I'm alone and need to protect myself."
"Good idea," he said. "You should get a lighter weapon than you had the other day. Something smaller that you can keep in your bag."
"What do you suggest?"
Eugene rubbed his forehead. "Why don't we go to Campbell’s Outfitters? It's just down the street. They have a good selection of handguns. I could help you pick out a gun. We could practice at the range with it."
"Oh, that's so nice of you."
Eugene stuck his hands in his pockets. ""Just trying to be helpful."
"We could go take a look at what Campbell's has to offer. I'm alone all day until Michael's back from Coyote Ridge."
"Oh, that's right. My dad said he and Michael were going there to interview Daryl Kincaid."
Tess watched him, wondering how he felt about his biological father being interviewed about the cases in Paradise Hill.
"You must be shocked about John Hammond's involvement in all this."
"I am, but you never know what's going on with people behind their eyes. You can look right into a person's eyes and have no idea." He shook his head and clicked his tongue in disgust.
"That's the truth. Let me pay for my groceries and we can meet at Campbell's. How does that sound?"
"Sounds good to me. See you in ten?"
"Ten sounds good."
Tess went to the check-out, glad that she could go with Eugene to check out guns. While Michael didn't like Eugene, he'd always been very cordial to Tess. Sure, he'd been out of line dating Kirsten back in the day, but as far as she knew, he'd never been a bad husband.
She took her groceries out to the car and drove over to Campbell's Outfitters, parking in a slot in front and going inside. Campbell's had everything you could want as a hunter or outdoorsman, and she passed the time waiting for Eugene by checking out the gun cases, the rifles, and the crossbows on display behind the counter.
"Do a lot of people buy those crossbows?" she asked the clerk, a middle-aged man named Jerome.
"Not a lot. Some buy them for their kids as kind of a fantasy toy, but not many use them hunting."
Tess nodded and it was then Eugene walked up.
"See anything you like?" he asked, leaning on the counter.
"I was just asking about the crossbows. Wondering how many people have them."
"They're not used very often," Eugene said. "A few enthusiasts, I'd wager."
"Your dad’s big on crossbows, isn't he? Chief Joe?" Jerome asked. "I remember we sold him one years ago."
Tess turned to Eugene, who nodded. "Oh, yeah… that's right. He did have a crossbow a while back. Don't know what he did with it. He hasn't hunted for a few years." Eugene smiled and pointed at the handguns. "That's a nice one," he said. "Small enough for a woman, but still has all the bells and whistles."
Tess turned to the gun cabinet and glanced inside at the gun Eugene had pointed out. The fact that Chief Joe had a crossbow made her hesitate for a moment. He'd never said anything about owning one. Not that Tess would even consider that Chief Joe might be involved in the cases—but still, he did own a crossbow…
"I like that one," Tess said and asked Jerome to show it to her. Jerome ran through the specs on the weapon while Tess held it and practiced loading the clip in it. Even though it was empty, it gave her an idea of how easy it would be to use if she ever had to.
"Looks good on you," Jerome said. "Fits well in your hand."
"I like it."
They went through several other guns of a similar make, then she thanked Jerome and said she’d think about it.
"You're not going to buy one today?" Jerome asked, seemingly disappointed.
"I thought I’d get Michael to come along, give me his thoughts." She smiled at Jerome and then at Eugene. "He's the expert."
"Eugene here is just as much an expert," Jerome said. "I expect he's shot pretty much every kind of weapon there is."
"I know my way around a gun."
"I guess," Jerome said. "Crack shot. Should have become a sniper in the military."
Eugene shrugged, smiling softly like he was embarrassed at the praise.
"My father was a good teacher. He taught me everything I know."
"Eugene’s a good teacher," Tess said, smiling at him. "When I get a gun, maybe you could take me to the shooting range and show me how to use it. Michael isn't up to shooting—he can't even move his shoulder yet."
"That's too bad," Jerome said. "We heard about the shooting. Some kid shot him with a crossbow, right?"
"Kid or adult," Tess said. "Could be either. Probably the same man who attacked me." She glanced at Eugene and made a face.
"Creepy," Eugene said and shook his head. "You gotta stay safe, Tess. You don't really need any training on it. Just go to the range yourself and shoot it. You'll be fine."
"Thanks. Maybe I will," she said, and turned to Jerome. "I'll take it."
She paid for the weapon and filled out the forms. The background check would take a few days, so she wouldn't be able to pick up the gun until the application had been approved, but that would take less than a week.
She said goodbye to Jerome and walked out of the store with Eugene.
"Thanks for taking me here and talking about the whole process," she said. "Are you sure I don't need lessons on shooting this particular gun?”
"If you need help, the guys at the range will help you. I could take you if you really want. I just don't think you need formal training on this weapon. It's similar enough to the Glock that you should be fine."
"Okay. Thanks again," she said, and gave him a smile before getting in her car.
She waved at Eugene and drove off.
On her way back to the house, she drove by Kirsten's neighborhood and decided to drive by and see if she was home.
The car was in the driveway, so Tess drove up and went to the front door, hoping Kirsten wouldn't mind if she dropped by without calling first.
"Tess," Kirsten said when she answered the door. "I was just going to call you and see if you had some time for coffee. Come in."
Tess went inside the house, impressed with the décor. The house was really well-decorated, tastefully and expensively. Phil Hammond was pretty well-off compared to Eugene; the house was big and in the better part of town.
"Where's little Lou?" she asked when she didn't see him anywhere.
"Sleeping," Kirsten said. "I'd usually try to sleep, too, but I'm wide awake. It's great you dropped by."
Tess sat at the kitchen island and watched while Kirsten made coffee.
"So, what were you up to that you were in the neighborhood?"
"I was just at Campbell's with Eugene, looking at handguns."
"You were with Eugene?" Kirsten asked, frowning. "How come?"
"He helped me, teaching me to shoot Michael's weapon when Michael was still in the hospital. I ran into him at the grocery store and he offered to take me to Campbell’s to pick out a gun for myself."
"Michael could help you with that. Why Eugene?"
Tess shrugged. "You don't approve?"
"Michael doesn't really like Eugene," Kirsten said quietly.
"I know, but he's just being a big brother."
"Eugene isn’t quite as harmless as he appears," Kirsten said softly.
"Oh?" Tess said, frowning in surprise. She'd never heard Kirsten say a bad word about Eugene. "What do you mean?"
Kirsten poured them two cups of coffee from the carafe. "Let's just say he's not what he seems and leave it at that."
"Kirsten," Tess said, and leaned forward, reaching out to touch Kirsten's arm. "You have to tell me. Did he hurt you when you were together?"
"He never hurt me." Kirsten picked up her coffee mug and drank a sip. "He lost interest in me soon afte
r I got pregnant the second time. He just stopped sleeping with me altogether. We had separate bedrooms. He'd sometimes spend the entire night out with the boys or hunting. He'd get on his bike and go for long rides in the dark. I felt so rejected."
"Do you think he cheated on you?"
Kirsten shrugged. "I don't know, but he sure didn't sleep with me. It was hell. He never said anything, but I know it creeped him out that I'd had another baby.”
"That's so sad, Kirsten. All those years, I never knew. You never said anything, so I assumed you were happy."
Kirsten sighed. "I didn't want to admit I'd made a mistake. Then, with the boys, I was dependent on him, and he felt responsible for them, so we agreed to stay together."
"Was he ever mean to you? He never hurt you?"
She shook her head. "No. He never hurt me. He just shut me out emotionally. He was so cold to me in private, but in public he was a perfect husband and father. He always said the right thing in every situation, but honestly, I never really felt he meant any of it. Like it was all just a performance. I lived with him for years, Tess, and I don't know him. He's a stranger."
Tess frowned to herself and drank her coffee. Eugene had always been so pleasant and helpful. Michael had never liked him, but Tess had written that off as him being a protective older brother.
Maybe there was more to Michael's dislike of the man than she had first thought…
"Enough talk about Eugene," Kirsten said. "I'm just glad we're divorced. Now I have Phil, and he's a real husband. He loves the boys and me and dotes on all of us. We're so lucky to have him."
Tess smiled at Kirsten, but she still felt sad for her. To have lived for all those years in a loveless marriage, with a man you felt was a stranger to you, had to have been extremely hard and depressing.
No wonder Kirsten was so happy to have met Phil.
When Tess got married, if she did, she'd be much older than Kirsten had been, and hopefully she wouldn't make the same mistake.
Chapter Fifteen
The trip to Coyote Ridge took almost two hours. Michael, Special Agent Nash and Chief Hammond went over the case while they drove, chatting about the dates and times of the disappearances, trying to ensure they had everything straight.
"Do you think he'll say anything useful, or will he deflect and pin everything on John Hammond?" Michael asked.
Chief Hammond shrugged a shoulder. "Deflect. I've never known Daryl Kincaid to confess to anything or admit culpability before. Why would he start now?"
"He claims he found Jesus in prison," Michael said, remembering his own meeting with the convict, who was known as ‘the Pastor.’
"He claims a lot of things, but none of them are true."
Michael smiled. "There's no reason for him to help, except to get a lighter sentence or better terms for his incarceration."
"Exactly, but you never know. What he doesn't say will tell us as much as what he does."
Michael took in a deep breath. Those had been his exact thoughts when he had gone to see Kincaid earlier. You could tell a lot about a man by what he left out of a conversation.
"When he's faced with images of himself killing Patrice, and with the mountain of evidence we've collected tying him to several of the disappearances, maybe he'll try to help to save himself, but I doubt it."
"It’ll be interesting to see what he says, regardless," Chief Hammond replied.
They arrived at the facility and parked the vehicle, walking the rest of the way to the main entrance, where they went through security and registered.
Chief Hammond was a familiar face at the prison, and everyone had a good word for him, saying hello, asking about his wife and when he was going to have another barbecue for the guards.
He seemed right in his element as they walked through the hallways and were admitted through the locked doors to a series of rooms where law enforcement could interview inmates.
Once inside, they spoke with the assistant to the warden, and then were ushered into the warden's office.
The warden was a middle-aged man with a shaved head and goatee; he fit so perfectly with what Michael thought of when he thought of ‘a prison warden’ that he looked like he belonged in a movie. He wore a dark suit but had the jacket off, and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up like he was working hard. Dark-rimmed reading glasses perched on the end of his nose while he scanned some files on his desk.
He glanced up when stood in the doorway.
"Ahh, Chief," he said and stood. "Special Agent Nash, Michael, come on in. Have a seat." He rose up and came to the door to greet them, shaking hands and leading them to the chairs that were located across from his desk.
Michael sat beside Chief Joe on one side and Nash sat on the other. He took out his cell and checked for messages when Warden Jackson had to take a call. There was nothing from Tess, so he sent a quick text.
MICHAEL: We're at the facility. Just speaking with the warden now and will be interviewing Kincaid soon. Talk later.
He sent the text, then slipped his cell back into his pocket before glancing around the room while Warden Jackson spoke into his phone, checking on the status of the prisoner and whether he was being taken to the interview room.
Finally, Jackson hung up the phone and turned to them.
"Prisoner's on his way. His lawyer actually made it here, so he’ll join us."
"I imagine his lawyer didn’t want him sitting in an interview alone with three law enforcement types," Chief Joe said. "At least now, he'll have an idea of what he's facing. Maybe then we can get him to try to save himself and give us some information. If I'm right about him, he'll pin everything on Hammond. If his lawyer's smart, he'll advise Kincaid to cooperate and not go to trial."
"That's what I expect," Warden Jackson replied.
They spoke for a while about the cases.
Warden Jackson shook his head. "It's hard to believe he's gone scot-free for all this time on the murders. We had him pegged as a petty criminal, until he did that armed robbery."
"These guys blend in. That's what's strange about Kincaid. He doesn't blend in and never has. He's always been a suspect whenever we had anything going on in Paradise Hill. I always thought of Kincaid first. He had his hand in everything. Drugs. Prostitution. Theft. Hell, even arson. Never could pin much on him, though he did a stint in the local prison before he came here."
"He's a scumbag, that's for sure," Warden Jackson said.
Jackson got another call. He answered and thanked the caller.
"Well, gentlemen," Warden Jackson said and stood up, pulling on his jacket. "Shall we go and interview Mr. Kincaid?" He turned to Michael. “I'll get Bert to take you to the observation room. Kincaid's lawyer is already there—Dean Lawson. He was a former prisoner," Warden Jackson made a face of disgust. "Now represents prisoners who get into trouble in lockup."
Michael raised his eyebrows. A number of criminals went on to get their law degrees after they left prison. They knew the ins and outs of prison, as well as the legal system.
"How much does Kincaid know?"
Warden Jackson shrugged. "We didn't tell him anything. Just that the FBI would like to speak with him about John Hammond."
"Okay," Nash said.
They left the office and made their way down the hall to the interrogation room, where Kincaid was already waiting. Bert, Warden Jackson's deputy, took Michael to a separate room with a bank of video cameras. He sat at the desk and watched the feed, taking out his notebook and getting ready to write down anything of interest that Kincaid did or said.
Kincaid looked the same as he had the last time Michael had seen him—skinny, dressed in prison garb, his long hair pulled back into a ponytail, balding on top. He still wore his goatee, and several tattoos on his neck were just visible over the collar. He leaned back, his arms crossed, his head down as if he were thinking.
He must have known about them finding the porn room and realized he was in jeopardy. His lawyer, Lawson, sat beside him,
a file spread out in front of him. Lawson wore a black suit, white shirt and tie, and his dark hair was slicked back. Michael could make out a tattoo on his wrist as the man leaned forward and held up the file, reading it.
He spoke to Kincaid in a low voice, but Michael couldn't hear what he said. Probably warning Kincaid not to speak if he gave him a signal. Lawson would keep Kincaid from saying anything incriminating.
While Michael watched, Chief Hammond and Special Agent Nash entered the room and sat at the table, facing Kincaid and Lawson. Nash made a big deal of plopping a thick file on the table, while Chief Hammond merely sat there, his arms folded. Of course, Hammond's sister had lived with Kincaid for five years after Eugene had been born, and he was Eugene's adoptive father, so there was a kin relationship between them.
Michael had the feeling that it wouldn't do Hammond any favors. From what he knew of the man's history, Kincaid was not one to worry overmuch about his relatives or his son. Eugene had often spent time with his biological father, but it was sporadic. Hammond had tried to be the main influence on Eugene—for obvious reasons.
"Hey there, Chief," Daryl said when Hammond sat down. "How's tricks? How's that son of mine doing? You got him into the police department yet?"
Michael shook his head mentally at the man, trying to act like it was just a big family get together, to shoot the shit.
"Eugene picked a different path," Chief Joe said, his tone irritated.
"Oh, yeah, that's right," Daryl said, leaning forward. "He had that little incident back in the day that put his law enforcement career on hold." He waggled his eyebrows meaningfully.
Michael frowned.
What incident? He made a mental note to talk to Chief Joe about it afterwards. As far as he knew, Eugene had a clean record as an adult. He had received a suspended sentence for possession of stolen property – Daryl’s property. That might have stopped Eugene from joining the police force, although he had been a minor at the time. The records were sealed since Eugene had been a juvenile, and the only way Michael knew about it was through his mother, who spoke with Chief Joe, who told her all about it.