“We’ll talk more when I get back,” she said, and went into the corridor to confer with Owens.
The chief stood at the window gazing in at Jude, when he turned his head to look at Erica, he smirked.
“He’s got you conned, doesn’t he?”
“If you’re asking me if I believe him, I don’t know.”
“We have to get a look at those letters and send them off to our lab,” Owens said.
“Do you need a ride back out to that house?” the chief asked.
“Perhaps later on,” Erica said.
The chief pointed at Jude. “And are you going to cut him loose now?”
“Cut him loose? No, Chief, Brad and I have only just started in on him. Jude Rowland will be sick of us by the time we’re finished with him.”
The chief cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
Owens answered him as he was rolling up his sleeves. “There are too many coincidences, such as Rowland just happening to stay at the same hotel where Tessa White was on the day she died. If Jude Rowland is a killer, my partner and I will nail him. Don’t ever doubt that.”
Erica smiled at Owens. “He’s all yours now. Go get him, bad cop.”
Owens sent Erica a wink, fixed a scowl on his face, and rushed into the interrogation room.
Chapter Twenty-One
SANGUINE, NEW HAMPSHIRE
The hawk-nosed man inside the laundromat was washing a bundle of clothes that were either too big or too small for him. The pants and shirts were props he’d bought ten minutes earlier from a second-hand store for twenty dollars. He needed a vantage point from which to watch for Jude Rowland’s departure from the police station, and the laundromat was handy.
After feeding what seemed to him to be an excessive amount of quarters into a washing machine, the man took a seat on one of a row of molded plastic seats. His chair was yellow, while the one to his right was blue and the left one an iridescent green.
Beyond tacky, the man thought, and went on to wonder why the owner of the laundromat couldn’t supply his customers with sturdy wooden chairs. A real chair would last longer and add class to what was intrinsically a dismal business. They were certainly raking in enough quarters to pay for the upgrade.
The man was wearing what he liked to call his small-town clothes. A pair of worn tan chinos, a blue flannel shirt, and a gray hoodie that zipped up the front. His shoes were black and had rubber soles, and in his pocket was a set of lock picks.
The door across the street opened and a cop came out. He was a young Hispanic man with a thin mustache and shoes shining like mirrors. The cop’s uniform shirt looked as if it had been starched and his pants held sharp creases. Although he was a police officer in a town that was off the beaten track, the cop had a look of professionalism about him. It reminded the man to not underestimate the town’s police force, if he were ever faced with the prospect of going up against them.
That shouldn’t happen, not if he was careful, although he’d nearly been caught sneaking around Jude Rowland’s property by Linda Perkins two days earlier.
A childish shriek came from the man’s right. He turned his head to watch as a little girl of six fought off her younger brother for the possession of her doll. The boy didn’t care about the doll; he only sought to torment his sister. The children’s weary and dowdy-looking mother shouted at the boy to chastise him; the kid released the doll and pouted. A moment later, the boy was sitting on the floor and playing with a toy car. Along with the boy and girl the mother held a baby in her lap. Thankfully, the child was asleep. How the baby could doze through the noise was a mystery.
Realizing that Jude Rowland would likely be inside the police station for some time to come, the man brought out a phone and used it to compose an email. After editing the email twice, in which he first added, then erased an Oxford comma, the man sent off the message.
The edge of the cheap plastic chair was pressing painfully into the backs of his thighs, and so he stood. There was a deli two doors down from the laundromat that also granted a view of the front of the police station. He decided to get a coffee. He would just have to be careful not to enter the deli while any cops were present.
On the way out of the laundromat he passed the harried mother of three. She was reading a book, a paperback. The man appeared pleased when he saw from the cover that it was the latest novel in the Johnny Revenge series.
As he left the odor of soap and bleach behind to venture out into the cold clean air of a late autumn day, the man was smiling. He considered seeing that book to be a good omen.
* * *
Across the street, inside the police station, Brad Owens leaned on the table in the interrogation room. Owens’ palms were flat atop the table’s surface. He looked as if he were about to pounce on Jude.
“You’ve been lying to us, Rowland, and I’m sick of it.”
“I’ve told you everything I know.”
“You’ve given us nothing but a story about some make-believe letters.”
“They’re not made up; I can show them to you back at my house.”
Owens laughed. “I’m sure you can. You said the letters have no return address or stamps and that they were printed by a computer. Hell, Rowland, anyone could make letters like that. They prove nothing.”
“I haven’t lied to you, Agent Owens. Those letters came to me just as I said they did. If I didn’t fear for my safety, why would I have gone to the expense of erecting a wall around my property?”
“Because you’re anti-social.”
“I’m… I’m not anti-social. I simply prefer to keep to myself.”
“You’re weird is what you are. Tell me about this road trip you took recently. What’s up with that?”
Jude tossed a hand in the air in a casual gesture. “Sometimes I want a break from the house, and I take to the road.”
“Why use a borrowed van?”
“Molly never uses it and I only want it for a few weeks a year, so why not borrow it?”
“You’re a rich man. You could be driven around in a chauffeured limo.”
“That would be silly; it would also defeat the purpose.”
“What purpose?”
“Because I’m not around others very often I find it helps to get out and be near people sometimes.”
“You could do that here in town.”
“No, I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be the same. I need to be around strangers, people who will pay me no attention and act naturally. I study them, you know, as research for my writing.”
“Did you have sex with Tessa White before you killed her?”
“What? Are you talking about the woman who was killed? I’ve never met her.”
“She was in the hotel bar for hours, Rowland, and the other people who were there are being interviewed. It’s just a matter of time before we link you to her.”
“I didn’t talk to anyone but the bartender when I was at the bar.”
“So, you admit to being there?”
“Yes, I had a meal there.”
“Did you get drunk?”
“I had two drinks.”
“Miss White was an attractive blonde; do you remember seeing her?”
“I saw several blondes at the hotel. I might have seen her.”
“Getting back to those letters, let’s say they are real, who do you think sent them?”
Jude spread his arms wide. “I have no way to know.”
“I think you do know. I also think the same man helped you kill those poor people who left bad reviews on your books. Did he also kill the hooker, or did you knife her?”
“I didn’t kill anyone!” Jude shouted, as his face gained color.
“The letter writer, c’mon, tell me his name.”
“I don’t know his name. Have you listened to anything I’ve said?”
Owens waved that away. “Why would I listen to lies? You know who sent those letters, you just don’t want us to know, but it’s obvious.”
“If it’s so obvious
then tell me who’s doing it.”
“This letter writer who’s your self-proclaimed biggest fan, he’s also a man willing to kill anyone who so much as insults your writing. Who would care that much about you?”
“No one gives a damn about me except Molly Jackson. The man who wrote those letters doesn’t even know me.”
Owens wagged a finger an inch from Jude’s face, while mocking him.
“Aw, no one cares about poor little Joey except Molly. What a load of self-pitying crap.”
Jude blushed with anger and spoke through gritted teeth. “Keep your finger away from my face.”
“Or what? You’ll tell Molly? I heard she cleans your toilet. Is she also your accomplice? Is that why you used her van when you committed the murders?”
“Molly has nothing to do with this!”
“You’re saying that you did the killings all by yourself?”
Jude shoved his chair back and stood. His face was turning scarlet and his hands were balled into fists.
“I am not a murderer, you idiot!”
Owens continued. “If you’re not a murderer then you’re protecting one. Tell me who you’re protecting?”
“No one,” Jude said. “There’s no one.”
“Say the name, Rowland. I already know who it is.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Say his name!” Owens shouted. “Go on, you might be innocent but you’re not stupid, say his name. You know who would kill for you, say it.”
Jude sank back into his seat as a name escaped his lips.
“Johnny.”
“Your brother, John. It’s your brother John, isn’t it?”
Jude took in a deep breath only to release it in a huff.
“I… I think Johnny might have gone crazy. He’d have to be insane to be killing these people.”
“How long have you been in contact with him?”
“I haven’t.”
“Bullshit! Don’t try to back pedal, just answer the question.”
Jude slid down in his seat. “I ran into him last year, while on one of my road trips. I recognized him right away, even though…”
“Even though what?”
Jude’s face twisted as if he were in pain. “Johnny was in a bad way. His clothes were worn, and he looked ten years older than he should. I think he must drink too much.”
“Where did this meeting take place?”
“In western Pennsylvania, at a bar outside Pittsburgh.”
“Did he recognize you?”
“Not at first, but yeah, he knew it was me. I look like our father when he was younger. Johnny looks like our father too... too much like him; it was a little eerie, the resemblance.”
“What does he do for a living?”
Jude frowned. “When I asked him, he was vague. He didn’t tell me where he lived either, but I got the impression that he was passing through. When I told him I still had the house and that he could come back and live with me he laughed.”
“What was funny about that?”
“I don’t know, but he acted as if it was a crazy idea.”
“Do you have a way to contact him?”
“No, Johnny claimed he didn’t have a cell phone, but I gave him my number.”
“How often does he call?”
“He’s never called me, not once, and then those letters started coming, and I wondered…”
Owens leaned closer to Jude. “Why were you at that particular hotel on that day?”
Jude opened his mouth to lie, but as he looked into Owens eyes, he could tell that he already knew why.
“There’s a fifth letter. It told me to be at that hotel. In it, the author referred to me as pipsqueak. That was Johnny’s pet name for me, but I still don’t think he killed anyone.”
“Where can I find him?”
“I don’t know. I swear to God, I’ve told you everything.”
Owens straightened up. “I still think you’re holding something back.”
“I’m not.”
“Stay put while I go find my partner and fill her in.”
Jude looked over at the mirror.
“I thought she and the chief were spying on us.”
“They probably had better things to do than to watch you attempt to lie to me.”
“I’ve told you the truth.”
“We’ll see,” Owens said. Afterward, he opened the door and stepped out, then shut it behind him.
Erica was smiling at her partner, while Chief Connors pointed at him.
“You’re good, Owens. You broke that bastard down.”
“Thanks, Chief, but all I did was allow him to admit the truth without feeling like he betrayed his brother. This way, Rowland will hate me for forcing it out of him and not blame himself.”
Erica turned to the chief. “I’m going in next and will be using a softer approach, to gain his trust. Can I get two bottles of water?”
The chief nodded. “I’ll go get them and be right back.”
Once the chief had left the corridor, Erica asked Owens a question.
“Is it possible Jude’s brother John could be the key to this case?”
“If he’s telling the truth, John Revene must be involved somehow. Now, the trick is to find him.”
Erica walked closer to the mirror and stared in at Jude. Inside the interrogation room, Jude sat at the table with his head in his hands.
“John Revene has stayed off everyone’s radar for over twenty years, but he reached out to his brother.”
“If we turn the heat up, maybe he’ll reach out again for help.”
Erica smiled. “And we’ll be waiting for him.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
SANGUINE, NEW HAMPSHIRE
The chief delivered the bottles of water and Erica carried them inside the interrogation room. When Jude looked up and saw that she had entered instead of Owens, he seemed relieved.
After accepting a bottle of water, Jude drank more than half of it before screwing the top back on and setting it on the table.
Erica hadn’t opened her bottle, instead, she tilted it toward Jude, as if it were cue for him to begin speaking again.
“I know you were young when he left here but tell me what you remember about your brother.”
Jude remained quiet for a moment as he looked thoughtful, then he smiled.
“Johnny was the best. He kept our father from hitting me when I was little. If I did anything wrong—and everything I did was wrong according to my father—Johnny would take the blame.”
“Your father beat him too?”
Jude’s chin jerked up as he looked over at Erica.
“You know about the beatings, the scars?”
“Yes.”
“I guess you would, and yeah, my father would try to punish Johnny too, but Johnny always fought back or ran away. I remember when he was sixteen, Johnny beat Daddy for the first time, knocked him right on his ass and split open his bottom lip.” Jude grinned. “The look on our father’s face was priceless. He was like a kid who just realized he was too old to go trick or treating anymore.”
“When your brother left town, he had to leave in a rush after robbing that convenience store. Did you get a chance to say goodbye to him?”
Jude stared at a spot to the left of Erica as he became lost in thought. After seconds ticked by with no response, she assumed he didn’t want to talk about that day. When Jude finally did speak in a hushed voice, she realized he was reliving those moments.
“I was playing out in the woods when I saw Johnny walking along a nearby trail. It was autumn, and I remember feeling chilled as the temperature dipped from an early snowstorm that was approaching from the north. The cooler air brought fog along with it and the forest was cloaked in mist. After I’d called Johnny’s name, he turned and gazed at me with a look of fright on his face. Johnny was never scared; seeing him like that rattled me. I rushed to him and he knelt down on one knee to look me in the eye.”
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Jude grabbed the water bottle, unscrewed the cap, then screwed it back on again and just held the bottle.
“Johnny told me he was leaving and never coming back. When I asked why, he wouldn’t say. I remember… he was wearing his high school letter jacket, something he got for wrestling, and over that he wore an old backpack. It was the one our mom had given him when he was a kid.” A slight smile curved Jude’s lips. “The backpack looked like a teddy bear, and he had stuffed it with his clothes and things. I begged him to take me with him, but he refused. Johnny said that where he was going, he couldn’t take a little kid along. When I asked where that was, he just shook his head. For a long time, my last memory of Johnny was seeing him walk along that forest trail, melding into the mist… and out of my life. The backpack, that damn stupid teddy bear, it sat in the middle of his broad back and bounced with each step he took, its right arm moving up and down as if it were waving goodbye.”
Jude grew silent as he was lost in the past amid memories. Erica risked making a statement in order to prod him to speak again; she did so in a soft voice.
“He left you alone and at the mercy of your father.”
Jude’s eyes narrowed to slits as he spoke, “Johnny abandoned me.” His hands clenched into fists and the water bottle he still gripped made a harsh grating noise as he crushed it. The discordant sound roused Jude from his trance. He looked over at Erica as if he were surprised to find her sitting across from him.
“How much longer do I have to stay here? I need to go home and feed my dogs.”
Erica stood. “We can go now if you’d like. I want to see those letters you received.”
Jude rose from his seat. “I know he was never a saint, but I can’t believe my brother is a serial killer.”
“You could be right, but we need to find him. If he’s innocent, maybe you’ll have him back in your life soon.”
“I would like that… the house gets lonely at times.”
“We’ll find him, Mr. Rowland; you can count on that.”
“Call me Jude.”
“All right, but tell me, why did you change your name after leaving college?”
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