Finally, Arthur shook his head.
“There’s no undoing this,” he said. “I just want to be with her.”
It happened in a flash. Before Morgan could react, Arthur spun on his heel and threw himself off the ledge. He vanished from sight at once, while Morgan stood frozen still. He heard a short scream. It ended with a cracking sound, and that was the end. It was as fast and as simple as that; one minute he was there, and the next he wasn’t.
Morgan looked out across the drop, staring at some boys shooting hoops in their backyard. He was glad those kids hadn’t heard the scream—they were too young to see what Morgan had just seen, and it’d be even harder for them to recover than it would be for him.
Speaking of which, he wasn’t even sure how to pick himself up from this. All he could do was let the shock wash over him while he continued to stare, an awful silence filling the hollow clearing of the woods, where Arthur St. John had killed himself, ending the grisly project that Morgan was never going to forget.
Chapter Forty-Seven
By the time he returned to the cars, the entire scene had escalated. The number of vehicles had doubled, and there were ambulances and news vans littering the scene. Morgan, his heart heavy with the sting of what he’d just witnessed, stood motionless while the day’s events settled on his mind. How was he supposed to move on from this?
“Over here.”
Gary’s voice broke him from his mortified trance. It was as though he’d been watching through the safety of a bubble, and now that bubble had popped, slinging him back into this cruel world full of darkness, misery, and regret. Seeking all the comfort he needed, he made his way over to Gary, who gave firm instructions to his team and then dismissed them. He looked Morgan up and down, fidgeting with the walkie-talkie in his left hand.
“How you holding up?” he asked.
“Not great. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“Pretty grim, huh?”
Morgan nodded, and they continued to walk through the scene. When they saw the reporters gathered at the crime scene tape, they both hung left and stepped to one side, as if they’d agreed to it using only their minds. “How’s Cooper?”
“Alive. A little shaken up, but alive.”
Relief breezed through him. “That’s one good thing.”
“In a sea of tragedy.”
“You’re telling me. Why on earth did your man open fire?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll have his badge for it. Anyway, that’s the least of our worries.” Gary dug his hand into his pocket and took out a cell phone, tossing it to Morgan. “You might want to read that.”
“What is it?”
“Just unlock the screen.”
Morgan did as instructed, curiosity getting the better of him. The name was enough to send a shiver down his spine, but it was the content that sent him into shock; the text message was from Captain Bray, and it read:
Your PI friend better not be involved in this. If he is, I’ll know.
“Should I be concerned?” Morgan asked, locking the screen and handing back the phone. He’d heard enough threats from the captain over the years, each time telling him he’d overstepped his boundaries. The rules had been set out plain and simple; when he was needed, they’d hire him. Otherwise, he was to keep his nose out of police business. Not that it stopped Morgan—twice now he’d had good reason to get involved. Hopefully, this was the last time.
Gary shook his head, sliding the phone back into his pocket. Distracted, he nodded to something a forensic data collector was mouthing, then signaled him to go around. “Nah, don’t sweat it. You’re on the dashcams, but I’ll minimize your part in all this. It’s a shame—you did all the legwork, but you can’t take the credit for it.”
“I can if I want to be in trouble with your boss.”
“Right. But who wants that?”
“Not me.”
Morgan turned to watch the scene. It was filled with important people doing important jobs, and he no longer had a part in it. There was only one thing left to keep him here, and that thing was sitting on the back step of a nearby ambulance with a blanket wrapped around him, staring down at the ground like he was paralyzed. “Can I go talk to him?”
“Who, Cooper?”
“If that’s all right.”
“Sure. Just don’t take too long. Cap’s on his way over, and I want you out of here by the time he gets here. I’m good, pal, but I’m not a miracle worker.” Gary swept past him, placing a firm hand on his back before he returned to work, shouting at an officer who was doing a bad job of keeping the press behind the tape.
Morgan, feeling an overwhelming sense of sadness, hurried to the ambulance and took a seat beside Cooper. He glanced up at the sky, where a dark cloud dragged itself over the city. “Looks like it’s going to rain.”
“You think?” Cooper didn’t turn, only continued to stare.
“I hope it does. It tends to get a little warmer when it rains.” Morgan was a little embarrassed about the small talk, but it was all he could think to say. Really, he just wanted to be with someone who’d shared the same experience. Sure, they hadn’t both been strapped to a steering wheel, but they’d both come within an inch of being seriously hurt by Arthur St. John. In that, they probably both needed a little companionship.
“Do you think I deserve it?” Cooper asked, finally looking his way.
“You mean… what happened?”
Cooper nodded.
“No, not at all. As I said to Arthur, some things just come around and bite you in the ass. It doesn’t mean it’s anybody’s fault or that someone has to be punished. You drove without a license—that was pretty stupid—but you didn’t mean to hurt anyone, did you? It’s not like you were drunk or falling asleep behind the wheel.”
“Whatever.” Cooper lowered his head and pulled the blanket tighter. “Accident or no accident, it didn’t stop Dusty and Teresa from being killed, did it? Even Tom got caught up in all this, and all he ever did was take the fall for me.”
Morgan sighed and stood up. The step was too cold for him, and so was this guy’s mood. “I’m not saying you’re a saint. It’s just that you can’t go the rest of your life thinking you did this. These murders were Arthur’s idea. You’re a victim just as much as they were.”
“You really think so?”
“Absolutely.” He really did too. It was the same thing he’d have told anyone else. It was the same way he planned to raise his kids, instilling some kind of moral compass inside them. The facts had to be acknowledged; mistakes had been made, but how everyone reacted to them was what really got the world spinning. “Just keep your head held up high, okay?”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“You got a good job, right?”
“Yeah…”
“Use some of that money and take a trip.”
“I hate traveling.”
“Then go stay with your family or friends.”
Cooper glared up at him, revealing red eyes. “I have no family, and my friends are dead.”
“Right.” Morgan sucked in a large breath and turned back toward the police tape where Captain Bray was slipping through and storming onto the scene barking orders. He hadn’t looked in Morgan’s direction yet, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to. “Listen, I have to go. Anything you need, give me a call. You have my number.”
“Sure.”
Morgan moved on swiftly, heading straight for the tape where he could take his own car. He climbed into the driver’s seat where tiredness finally caught up with him. It crashed over him like a tidal wave, drowning him in fatigue, sympathy, and despair. How was he supposed to raise a child in a world like this? With great difficulty, he imagined, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying.
Starting up the car, Morgan swung his arm over the headrest and looked back, reversing until he could turn around. He took one last look at the crime scene, shifted into first, and then began his journey home,
where he could get a little sleep and then prepare a meal for his wife.
Chapter Forty-Eight
A little over a week later, Morgan woke up to the shrill ring of a phone. He rolled out of bed and crossed the bedroom in the dark, yawning as he reached for the phone. “Yeah?”
“Morgan?” It was Gary’s voice. “How soon can you get here?”
He glanced at the clock on his bedside table. It was just after two o’clock. Thankfully, the call hadn’t woken Rachel. “That depends on where here is.”
“Cooper Kelley’s home.”
Morgan opened his mouth to object, but something replayed in his mind, filling in the blanks. Of course something had gone wrong there, so why was he so surprised to learn that his presence was requested? “Is the captain there too?”
“No. I just thought you should see this one.”
“All right. I’m on my way.”
While his nerves got the better of him, Morgan put his clothes on in the dark, planted a kiss on Rachel’s forehead, and snuck out of the room. Before long he was in his car, cruising toward the location with bitter sadness. He had an idea of what’d happened, but if he was right, then a lot of questions had to be answered. That thought horrified him—he’d only just put this case to bed, and now here he was, suffering the effects of the aftershock.
The street was relatively quiet, but the police lights still lit the street up red and blue, summoning curious neighbors to their doors. Morgan parked on the side of the road and climbed out, finding Gary in the mess of cops. He looked as tired as Morgan felt; black rings circled his eyes, and his skin was ghostly pale. It was as if he’d aged ten years in the past week.
“Thanks for coming,” he said, waving Morgan inside.
“It’s no problem. What’s going on?”
Gary opened the door, and they walked inside together. He led the way, Morgan trailing behind while he shuffled past officers throughout the house. “We got a call from Cooper Kelley. It was… a little strange. Basically morose apologies and a lot of tears. An officer forwarded the recording to me and it didn’t sit right, so I thought I’d check it out.
“And?”
They stopped outside a closed door at the top of the stairs. “You won’t like it.”
Morgan had an idea of what had happened, but he’d rather have been told than shown. Still, that didn’t keep Gary from creaking open the door. Inch by inch, the bathroom was revealed to them. Morgan watched with a tired gaze, his heart filling with relief as everything seemed perfectly normal. The toilet was idle, the bath mat was clean—he momentarily tricked himself into thinking nothing was wrong, but as usual, ignorance was bliss.
It took a few seconds, but when the door was finally wide open, Morgan felt a hollow in his stomach. His mouth turned dry, and all of a sudden he was wide awake, his blood rushing like whitewater rapids. He stepped inside the room, disbelieving even as he towered over it.
“I thought you should be the first to know,” Gary said.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Morgan couldn’t believe it. After all that’d happened, and especially after all this time, it’d all come down to this: Cooper Kelley lying in the bathtub, his head submerged in water with an empty medicine bottle floating around his knees. His face wore a pale look of peace, as if he were sleeping with his eyes open. “The overdose killed him?”
“That or drowning. We’ll know soon enough.”
“Right.” Morgan sighed to keep from weeping.
“There’s something else.”
“Oh?”
Gary stepped in with a single sheet of paper tucked inside an evidence bag. He handed it over, and Morgan took it gently from his grip. “This was sitting on the toilet seat when I got here. Front door was unlocked, so… Anyway, I’ll give you all the time you need. Just come downstairs and find me when you’re done.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. You all right?”
Morgan had no idea if he’d be okay or not. It all depended on what was written on this sheet of paper, but there was no way he was reading it in front of his best friend. For this he’d have to keep himself together, and he couldn’t do that unless he focused.
He simply nodded, unsure of where to look.
As soon as Gary left, Morgan sat on the toilet lid and rotated his body so he didn’t have to see Cooper’s body. Unprepared for what he was about to read, he plucked up the courage to do so anyway, diving right in. The first words set the tone of the note:
I’m sorry for what happened, but I couldn’t live like this anymore. There’s more to this story than you know, so I thought it was time I finally confessed that I killed the St. Johns. I drove the car that night, and not only did I not have a license, but I was also drunk beyond belief. Getting behind that wheel was the worst thing I ever did, and for that I’m truly sorry. I hope this can go into your records and answer any remaining questions.
“No wonder,” Morgan muttered to himself. If it hadn’t been clear enough that Cooper blamed himself to begin with, now it was explicably transparent. As was frequently the case, alcohol was to blame for the car accident, and Morgan was surprised he hadn’t considered it before. It suddenly made twice as much sense that Cooper had run off into the night, leaving Tom to cover for him and the St. John family to die. The fact that he hadn’t called an ambulance only made it worse.
A great weight pressed down on him, and Morgan had to leave. He got to his feet and went for the door with great sadness. As much as it hurt, he turned to take one last look at Cooper Kelley, who’d been a good guy that made one very stupid mistake a long time ago. If this wasn’t an example of how things could haunt you, then he didn’t know what was. Morgan made a mental note to learn from this, nodded his goodbye to the vacant body, and headed for the door. Now he could put this to rest, go home, and get some sleep.
That was, if the memory of this case would let him.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Some weeks later, Morgan sat in the waiting room while Rachel had a checkup with the doctor. It was her wish that she went in alone, and he was not about to argue with a pregnant woman. Instead, he took the time to browse social media on his phone, finding his Aunt Gladys and flicking through the pictures she’d posted of her son. Each time he saw Dusty’s face, it served as a reminder that he’d done the right thing. No matter how much he’d upset people or pushed his own limits while investigating his cousin’s murder, Morgan knew it’d all been worth it.
Even his aunt’s latest status update said as much:
My son’s killer is dead. Good riddance.
Not that he’d ever be contacted, reached out to, or thanked. But that was okay. Morgan hadn’t done it for the gratitude; he’d done it for the sake of vengeance. However, the more he’d learned, the more he’d come to realize that things weren’t so black and white. Arthur St. John had done a terrible thing, although his reasons were understandable. His own death had been the only outcome that would suit him.
Morgan took a moment to regret that he couldn’t save him.
Closing the screen and stashing the phone away in his pocket, he heard the click of the door and looked to the doctor’s office, where Rachel came out with a big smile on her face. He smiled and took her arm. They left the building together. He helped her into the car and drove her home. They discussed the appointment along the way—apparently she was healthy and there were no problems with the baby so far. Morgan had guessed as much, but it was still music to his ears. After the year he’d had, he almost expected something to go horribly wrong. He could only hope it worked out okay.
They spent the rest of the day in each other’s arms, discussing whether they wanted a boy or a girl. After talking and squabbling and laughing out loud, they reached the conclusion that they’d both be happy either way, and that only time would tell.
“Do you think he or she will be into sports?” Rachel asked as they lay on the couch that night, the lights low and the TV off. Soft, romantic songs played on th
e Friday-night radio station, perfectly setting the mood.
“Knowing us? Probably not.”
They both smiled and nuzzled into each other’s cheeks.
“He’ll be smart though.”
“And caring,” Morgan said, and if their kid grew up to be anything like Rachel they’d be remarkable too. The work she’d done at HUCINS was exceptionally generous, and he didn’t think it possible for a person that kind to conceive anything but more goodness. “I just want to be the best dad I can be.”
“You’ll be great. We both know it.”
Morgan appreciated the compliment, but he still had his doubts. “We can only hope. At least the big cases are done now. I just have to rely on the simple jobs, keep the money rolling in, and start hoping for the best. If it all goes downhill, I’ll have to get a real job.”
“We can worry about that later.” Rachel sat up. “Let’s just fret about doing right by our child, and in the meantime you do whatever you need to do. Whatever happens in the end, I think it’s time to make your job official. If you’re happy to, that is.”
There was nothing Morgan wanted more now than to continue being a private investigator, but if all his cases were going to involve serial killers and psychopaths, then he didn’t know how long his marriage would last. Avenging Dusty had put a strain on them, and he didn’t want to repeat that, but if he could get away with tracking cheating husbands or solving petty thefts, they’d do well enough. “I’d love that.”
Rachel beamed a huge, perfect, white smile—the same smile that brightened her already bright eyes and made her a sight to behold. “Then it’s time we get you going with a website and a phonebook entry. I’m here for you, Morgan, and if you need my support in this, then you have it until my dying breath.”
Mason & Morgan- The Serial Killer Collection Page 77