Plus, the alternative was terrifying.
But no, I wasn’t going there. I’d just sit and wait for Daniel. And after he debunked all of it, we would have a good laugh. Well, after he yelled at me for being stupid enough to drive twenty minutes away to meet some anonymous person who had been emailing me … much less chase some dark stranger down a deserted and unfamiliar road.
God, it sounded worse the more I said it to myself.
At some point, I realized I had completely forgotten about the pickup truck parked on the side of the road. I sat up and did my best to peer over in the direction I thought it was, but I couldn’t tell if it was there or not.
Of course, the truck was probably a big nothing burger as well.
I was watching a pair of headlines circle around the winding road when my phone rang. “Becca? I’m here,” Daniel said. “Where are you?”
I directed him to where I was parked. He pulled his vehicle up next to mine, and I could see he wasn’t alone. Scott, one of the cops who had helped move my desk into The Studio, was with him.
I opened my door as Daniel stepped out and went to stand next to him. He wore jeans and a plain white tee shirt, and his hair was mussed up, as if he had been running his hands through it as he drove. He also needed a shave. “Show me where you saw it,” he said.
I gestured down the road, explaining how the road branched out and turned to dirt. He nodded as he gazed in the direction I was pointing, his eyes narrowing. The pale moon shimmered high in the sky, more beautiful than helpful, as it provided minimal illumination.
“Have you seen any activity since?” He asked, slapping a mosquito on his arm. “Anyone drive in or out?”
I shook my head. “But as you can see, it’s dark down there. So, if the car lights were off, I may not have seen it.”
He nodded again and ran his hands through his hair. “Do you think you can show me where you found the car?”
I folded my arms against the chill of the summer night. The air smelled wet and green, of trees and long grass, mixed with the very faint scent of fried fish—one of Grand Slam’s specialties. “Yes, you can follow me,” I turned to my car, but he put a hand on my arm.
“I’ll drive,” he said. Firmly. “Go get your purse and lock up.”
I wanted to tell him I was fine, but he looked so determined, I was quite sure he wouldn’t budge. Wordlessly, I got my purse, phone, and pepper spray out of the car, locked it, and joined him in the back of his car.
“You remember Scott,” he said, pulling his seat belt on.
“I’m sorry to do this to both of you,” I said. “I didn’t want to make you come out here like this.”
Daniel grunted as Scott turned to me and smiled. “Part of the job,” he said.
“We’ll talk later,” Daniel said, putting the car in drive.
The tension in the car was so thick, it was practically another living being. I could sense Daniel holding back. I imagined the questions he was probably dying to barrage me with—why was I there? Why was this the first he was hearing of all this? Why hadn’t I gone to him immediately?
As I directed him to the dirt road, I noticed the street was empty. The pickup truck was gone. If it had ever been there in the first place, I thought, as I started to question myself too.
Daniel slowly eased onto the dirt and gravel of the side road. “Becca, what were you thinking?” he muttered, as the car shuddered beneath us. Trees scraped the sides of the car. “Why would you come back here by yourself at night?”
“I didn’t think it was going to be like this,” I said.
“But, why were you back here in the first place?”
“Well, like I said, I saw someone ...”
“You saw someone,” Daniel burst out. “That’s what you were babbling about before? Are you out of your ...”
“About how far did you drive before you saw the parked car?” Scott interrupted, directing a sideways glance at Daniel, who with great effort, closed his mouth.
“Not far,” I said, grateful for the reprieve. I was not at all looking forward to Daniel’s reaction once he heard the full story. “There it is!”
Daniel hit the brakes, and for a moment, there was complete silence as the three of us stared at it. “There,” I said, leaning over the front seat so I could point. “Do you see the smear? And that bit of a fabric dangling from the trunk?”
“I don’t see ... oh wait, now I do,” Scott said.
Daniel put the car in park and sat back. “You’re saying you saw someone back here?”
“In the road,” I said. “There was a figure that disappeared.”
“Did you recognize the figure?”
I swallowed. “No.”
Daniel and Scott were both peering around. “Where was it standing? By the car?”
“I didn’t actually see anyone right here,” I said, trying to explain and feeling more and more like an idiot. “Just a flashlight. I was back there, and I saw a flashlight blink a few times, so I angled the car toward the light and that’s when I saw it.”
Daniel and Scott exchanged a look. It didn’t seem to be a good thing.
“Should we call for backup?” Scott asked.
“Why?” Daniel asked, half-turning toward me to make it clear he was talking to me and not Scott. “Why would you possibly drive back here following some stranger?”
“I ...” I looked down at my hands. “I thought I had seen the figure before.”
“Wait, what? I thought you said you didn’t recognize anyone.”
“I didn’t. But, these past couple of days, I thought I saw a ... well, a shadow I guess, following me.”
A vein in Daniel’s jaw jumped. He appeared to be on the verge of reaching over the backseat to throttle me. “You thought this guy was following you, and you came back here alone?” he barked. “Did it occur to you that maybe, just maybe, it was a trap?”
“I ... well, kind of,” I said. “Eventually.”
“Eventually?”
“Well, I didn’t really think about it until I was already on this road,” I tried to explain. “By then it was too late, so I thought I’d investigate a bit more.”
“Want me to call it in?” Scott asked again, his hand resting on the radio.
“Why were you even here?” Daniel asked, ignoring him.
“I got an email from someone who said he had proof I was being set up. You know, as Gwyn’s stalker.”
“Gwyn has a stalker?” Scott asked.
“Who emailed you?” Daniel shot back at me.
“I don’t know. I didn’t recognize the email. It just said, ‘friend.’”
“A friend,” Daniel said in disbelief, hitting the steering wheel. “A ‘friend’ emailed you, and you came out here. Alone. That’s just great.”
“Is Gwyn okay?” Scott asked.
“Look, I know I was being stupid,” I said. “I get it. You can yell at me later. But I called you because I was worried. What if someone is trapped in that car? What if he—or she—is still alive, but hurt? We need to do something.”
Daniel shot me an unreadable look.
“Maybe we should call for backup,” Scott said again, his voice uneasy.
Daniel reached out and grabbed something. When he sat back up, I could see it was his gun. “I’ll check it out,” he said grimly. “Call it in. And cover me. You,” he pointed at me, “stay here.”
Scott pressed down on the radio, explaining the situation to dispatch as Daniel fished out a flashlight. He waited until Scott finished before opening the door.
“Be careful,” I said.
He glared at me before stepping out, slamming the door behind him.
I winced. I guess I deserved that.
Scott gave me an apologetic smile before opening the car and getting out as well, one hand holding a f
lashlight and the other his gun.
Daniel cautiously approached the car, giving it a wide berth at first, before bending down to look underneath it. Satisfied, he peered into each window before jiggling the driver’s door.
“It’s unlocked,” I heard him call out to Scott, his voice muffled. “I’ll pop the trunk.”
“Do you see any signs of anyone?”
“Negative.”
“Watch yourself.”
Scott took a few steps forward until he was standing in front of the car. I had to strain my neck to see what was happening.
Daniel disappeared for a few moments before reappearing. He positioned himself a few steps back from the trunk and looked over at Scott, before reaching over to push the lid up, gun trained on whatever was inside.
“Oh God,” I heard him gasp as he covered his nose and his mouth with the crook of the arm.
“What?” Scott yelled. “What is it?”
I didn’t hear the answer, but Scott was suddenly backing up toward the passenger side door as Daniel hurried back to the driver’s seat. Both men got into the car, breathing heavily. Daniel’s face was pale, and I noticed perspiration around his upper lip.
“What?” I asked, as Daniel grabbed the radio. “What is it?”
Daniel turned to me, his eyes dark and unreadable. “We just found Ellen.”
I didn’t have to ask how she was. I could see it on his face. I could smell it in the air that drifted into the car when he opened the door—the faint scent of decay. Of rot.
Ellen was dead.
After that, everything happened very fast.
Scott started securing the site while Daniel called for backup. “As soon as I can, I’ll have someone take you back to The Grand Slam to wait. We’ll need an official statement from you, but there’s no reason for you to wait here.”
I nodded as I hugged my body with my arms, trying to stay warm. The chill of the summer night had settled deep into my body, into my bones, and I was wondering if I would ever be warm again. “How long?” I asked, my voice a croak.
He was scribbling down notes and didn’t look up. “How long for what?” he asked.
“How long has she been,” I couldn’t say it. If I said it, then it would be real. “How long in the trunk?”
“That’s the coroner’s job to determine,” he said shortly. “Stay in the car until further notice.” He opened the car to join Scott.
I had been dismissed.
Not that I blamed him. Surely, he felt completely blindsided right now. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt then that I really should have told him about the emails sooner.
Flickering lights illuminated the clearing from behind. Daniel returned to the driver’s seat to move the car closer to the side of the road, wincing as the branches of the trees screeched against the passenger side.
Numbly, I watched the activity outside—the lights, the people, all the movement—and tried to get my head around what had just happened.
Someone had sent me an email wanting to meet at an out-of-the-way location.
A dark figure with a flashlight had drawn me to an even more out-of-the-way and isolated spot (one I likely would never have stumbled upon on my own).
It had to have been Ellen’s killer.
Who else could it have been? The odds of the whole thing being a giant coincidence was too mind-boggling to even consider.
And that meant ... the killer had been following me.
The dark shadow. Outside my house. At the memorial service. The Good Yarn.
The killer would have seen me with Gwyn.
Oh God. That last message—the one that said Gwyn should disappear like Ellen. Was that just this morning?
Did that mean Gwyn was next? I had to tell Daniel.
I slid over to the side of the car, intending to get out, but paused. Daniel was deep in conversation with another man. Neither looked happy.
My hand hovered on the door handle. Daniel had told me to wait. He was already irritated with me, and his mood didn’t look like it had improved talking to the other detective. Maybe I should just stay put.
On the other hand, what if Gwyn really WAS in danger? Right now? Was I really going to let a little irritation stand in my way?
Determined, I opened the door and marched my way across the clearing. Daniel glanced over, saw me, and his eyes widened.
“I told you to stay put,” he said.
“I’m not a dog,” I countered, more crossly than I intended.
The other man turned. He had a distinguished air about him with thick, brown hair greying at the temple and dark eyes. “What is she doing here?” he asked Daniel.
“I told her to stay in the car,” Daniel said, gritting his teeth. He grabbed me by the arm and propelled me to the side of the clearing. “Don’t you ever listen?” he hissed. “I’ve got enough going on without having to worry about you.”
I squirmed against his tight hold. “I’m not trying to upset you, but Gwyn might be in trouble.”
Daniel continued to haul me forward. “Gwyn? What are you talking about? Why would she be in trouble?”
“She got another note. The stalker told her to disappear like Ellen.”
“What are you talking about? You,” he called to one of the officers, “can you come here for a moment?”
I took a deep breath. I didn’t have a lot of time. “Look, I know I messed up. I should have told you what was happening sooner. The only reason I’m here is because I got an anonymous email saying that there was proof that I was being set up as Gwyn’s stalker. And the note Gwyn received said she “should disappear like Ellen.” So, you tell me. Does that sound like Gwyn might be next?”
Daniel didn’t look at me as I talked, but I could see from the narrowing of his eyes that he was turning over the implications in his mind.
The officer appeared at his side. “What do you need?” I did a double take when I saw how young he was. I wasn’t sure he was even old enough to have graduated high school, much less be a cop.
Daniel thrust me toward him. “Can you take her back to The Grand Slam? Have her wait for Timmons there. She’s a witness.” To me, he said, “I’ll look into it, okay? Now, for the love of God, don’t go anywhere until Detective Timmons talks to you.”
I nodded and followed the kid to his car, wondering if maybe I should offer to drive. Would The Grand Slam even allow him to wait with me, or would he need to sit outside?
I needn’t have worried. Apparently, the youngster was a regular at The Grand Slam, as the bartender greeted him by name and asked if he wanted a beer.
“Can’t,” he said, smiling self-consciously and revealing dimples. “On duty. Coffee would be great.”
“Coffee for me too,” I said, craving the heat. I was still so cold.
I wondered how long we would be able to just sit there. I was sure the bar would be closing soon, so I asked the bartender, who looked like he would be more at home in a frat house than behind a bar, as he poured the coffee.
“The official closing time isn’t for a couple more hours, but if the cops need us to stay open later, we can,” he said.
A couple more hours? What, did they stay open all night?
But then I glanced at the clock. It was almost eleven.
How could it be only eleven? Was it really only three hours before that I had walked in hoping for answers?
Three hours. It felt like a lifetime.
I sipped my coffee, hoping the warmth would finally permeate my being. I didn’t think I had ever felt so cold in my life.
I was on my third cup and had just started to thaw when it finally came—the voice I had been dreading.
“Mrs. McMurray? Do you have a moment?”
Chapter 14
“It’s not McMurray,” I said, turning in my seat to face the detecti
ve. “It’s Kingsley.”
My aunt’s last name just popped out of my mouth. I had no idea where it even came from. My plan had been to go back to my maiden name once the divorce was final, even though that didn’t feel completely right either.
Was this the answer? Taking Aunt Charlie’s name?
Detective Timmons’ eyebrows went up in surprise. “Apologies, Ms. Kingsley,” he said. “I hadn’t been told you changed your name.”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Well, it’s not official,” I admitted. “Yet. But, I’m in the process of legally changing it.” This was obviously a lie, but I didn’t think I could admit the truth with those penetrating brown eyes boring into me.
He made another note. “Care to join me at a table?” He gestured to one of the booths in the same area I had sat just a few hours earlier apparently waiting for a killer.
I shivered, feeling the same chill I had before, as I picked up my coffee mug and slid off the stool.
“After you,” he said. So polite. I would have to stay on guard with him to make sure he didn’t lull me into a false sense of security. He’s not on my side, I reminded myself. No matter how polite he was.
I slipped into the booth. The bartender followed us with a coffee pot, refilling my cup and asking the detective what he wanted.
“Coffee would hit the spot, thank you.”
The bartender fetched a cup for him and filled it. Detective Timmons smiled and waited until the bartender had finished before flipping open his notebook and putting on his glasses.
“Would you mind telling me, in your own words, what happened tonight?”
He let me talk, only interrupting if he had a clarifying question. It took longer than I expected to get through my story. The bartender had wandered over a couple of times to refill our cups, making me wonder if he really just wanted to hear what was going on firsthand.
When I was finally through, Detective Timmons paused to study his notes and sip his coffee. He wiped his salt and pepper mustache and sat back. Not for the first time, I marveled at how much he resembled Paul Newman.
“So, let me see if I got this right,” he said. “You received two emails ...”
“Three,” I said.
Secrets of Redemption Box Set Page 79