Unlocking Darkness (Keys to Love Series, Book Five)

by Kennedy Layne

  “That’s good to know.” Mitch gestured toward Jack that it was time for him to leave, and that his five minutes were up. He struggled to come up with a good reason for approaching Jack, maybe even slapping him on the left upper arm in a friendly manner to see if he winced in reaction. Would there be a wound on his upper left arm? “I appreciate the courtesy drive-by. I’ll have Byron do another welfare check on Shelby, and I’ll find out why Patty wasn’t picking up the main line over at the station.”

  “Glad I could be of help,” Jack said, nodding in Allie’s direction before hopping back into the cab of his truck. Within seconds, he had his left elbow out the window as was his usual habit. Had there been a wince that crossed the man’s features due to such a casual movement? “I’m sure I’ll see the two of you at The Cavern later this week.”

  Mitch gave Jack a tight smile that never reached his eyes and waited for him to pull out of the drive. He was quite proud of himself for waiting until the dust cleared before turning on Allie and calling her out on the transparent plan to draw the serial killer out of hiding.

  “What the hell was that horseshit all about?” Mitch all but demanded, turning to confront her.

  Allie clearly had other ideas, as she was already headed for the sheriff’s relic of a vehicle that he’d been using all day. He’d already put in a request for another SUV from the county’s collection of confiscated drug transport vehicles. Most of those came with some cosmetic damage, but anything over five years old was sold at auction, anyway. The county bureaucrats took the best of the pool, but he’d settle for a late model four-wheel drive with some decent clearance. Winter around here could be hostile, just like his current mood.

  “Allie, you don’t get to walk away from me after pulling a stunt like that.”

  “I’m not walking away from anyone. I’m baiting the hook.” Allie didn’t say another word until she reached the passenger side of the car. She’d even lifted the handle without waiting for him to open her door, most likely to prove a point. Well, he’d heard her loud and clear. The thing of it was, he sure as hell didn’t have to like it. “You asked me here to help you, Ken, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  *

  “You must be Allie.” The blonde bartender set a club soda with a slice of lime on the counter with a smile. She’d just wiped her hands on a towel after cutting some fruit and sorting it into separate covered garnish bins. She offered a clean hand in reception. “I’m Brynn Mercer, owner of The Cavern and Lance Kendall’s better half.”

  She returned Brynn’s smile and shook the bartender’s hand. Allie had already known the identity of the petite blonde. The woman had lost her parents at a young age and was taken in by a couple named Tiny and Rose Phifer, the former proprietors of The Cavern. They had all but raised Brynn through her teenage years and helped fund her business degree after graduation from the local high school.

  So, why hadn’t the serial killer targeted such a perfect victim?

  It was one of the reasons Allie had chosen to make her way to the quaint bar while Mitch had to drive up to the lake to separate two locals before they came to blows over property rights and exactly whose dock was being searched by who.

  After leaving his place and being on the receiving end of a get your head out of your ass lecture she hadn’t experienced since her first year in the Corps, he’d finally taken the time to show her around the rest of the town. They’d even driven up to the lake and back, although both of them made sure there wasn’t an unexpected run-in with Agent Thorne or his other agents while they were up there together.

  Allie was uniquely aware of her boundaries on this case, and she would respect the decisions handed down by the chain of command. She was in Blyth Lake for nothing more than comforting an old friend who just happened to be the sheriff.

  Technically, she could have ordered an alcoholic beverage seeing as she was on vacation…but she never drank when she carried. The chances of anyone catching her walking anywhere around this town without a fully loaded firearm was zero to none. Her badge and gun would always be within arm’s reach.

  “Everyone seems to know my name before I introduce myself around here,” Allie replied, noticing an older man who at first glance didn’t appear to be in such good health. He’d been staring at her from one of the corner stools of the bar, and she’d recognized him instantly. He’d been the one to hold the door open for her at the diner this morning. She’d bet money that he was the infamous Cavern regular noted in the case file as one Jeremy Bell. “I’m just passing the time while Mitch finishes up some work on a domestic call.”

  “I heard the feds are still up at the lake searching all the private docks, boat houses, as well as both the boat yards. How they managed to secure a warrant that broad is beyond me,” Miles Schaeffer said gruffly as he claimed a stool to Allie’s left. He’d been at the diner this morning, too, having an in-depth conversation with the waitress about his older son who’d been arrested for attempted arson. It didn’t take a very special federal agent or trained FBI profiler to figure out the man’s identity. “I watch “Criminal Minds” and “NCIS” every week. I know how things work up there in the city.”

  Allie hid her smile behind the rim of her glass. She understood better than most that television programs weren’t that accurate when it came to police investigations and procedures. But damn, if this place wasn’t like the TV show “Cheers”. She was expecting Norm to come rolling out any minute.

  Miles Schaeffer didn’t even bother telling Brynn his order. A cold draft beer was set in front of him before he’d even had a chance to get comfortable on the stool she suspected was his regular perch.

  “Have you spoken with either Tiny or Rose today?” Jeremy asked, his gaze intermittently landing on Allie as if he were holding an inner debate on whether or not she should be included in his conversation. She wisely remained quiet, having learned long ago that listening resulted in more answers than any questions she could manage. “I’m sure this isn’t good for anyone’s business.”

  “Well, the restaurant and marina closed for the season right after Labor Day. They have a couple of cottages with docks rented out for the late Muskie fishing season, but the other cabins are still being renovated for next year.” Brynn’s gaze flickered toward the front entrance when it was pushed open to let the late afternoon sun shine through the doors. A glance in the mirror revealed none other than Jack Stuart. “Everyone is being very cooperative, so the search is going seamlessly from my understanding.”

  Not everyone, but that piece of news had yet to make the rounds.

  Allie didn’t have to look at her watch to know that it was a little after seventeen hundred hours. It was one of the reasons she’d decided to stop by The Cavern. The regulars would be getting off work right about now, and there was nothing more useful than listening to the gossip of the day at places like these, where the locals came to rant and decompress.

  The entrance opened once more. This time, the crew was a little rowdier than the last.

  “Brynn, could we get some longnecks with shots?” a man called out as he and some of his friends kept walking toward the taller tables located near the dartboards. “Just put the first round on my tab.”

  Miles muttered something under his breath about some people being entitled dipshits, but Allie could have easily mistaken the incoherent words. He pulled his beer closer as he gave her a sideways glance.

  “Are you that special fed from Quantico? The one who’s friends with Mitch?”

  “I am,” Allie replied with a nod. “I’m just passing the time until he gets back from up at the lake.”

  “It’s not like there’s much else to do here in town.” Miles snorted as he exchanged knowing glances with Jeremy. “Although we do have a small theater that shows two different movies a night. The first showing is mostly for the families, cartoons and such. The R-rated movies don’t usually come on until after dark. You know, with kids not being allowed and all.”

/>   “I like small towns like this,” Allie said, beginning to lay the groundwork that would hopefully lead to an arrest. “I would have loved growing up here in Blyth Lake. It’s really quite lovely. Having been raised in the city where I had to watch my back with every step I took wasn’t the most pleasant childhood, if you know what I mean.”

  “See?” Miles said to Jeremy, having momentarily lost Allie with his arbitrary reply. His response wasn’t what she’d been looking for, but it somehow landed her exactly where she’d wanted to steer the discussion. “That’s what Clayton and Wes get for thinking the grass is greener on the other side. City life ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

  “I heard Wes was coming back into the fold,” a rather nice-looking man said, sidling up to Allie. She didn’t miss the fact that he was trying nonchalantly to look her over in the mirror. He was the one from earlier who apparently kept a tab open for him and his friends. “It’s about time. Not everyone can make a go of it in the city.”

  “Billy,” Miles greeted, though it was evident that he had a dislike for the younger man. “Is it true that your parents are buying up property all around the lake?”

  Allie caught onto two things at once.

  It was always a nice feeling to hit pay dirt in the first pan.

  The man standing next to her elbow had to be none other than Billy Stanton. He was basically a trust fund baby, though he was currently working as a paramedic after flunking out of med school. He’d had to save face with the family name by demonstrating his civic spirit while finding a way to keep the lineage confined to the medical field. She suspected that he’d be in the running for mayor sometime in the next twenty years.

  William Theodore Stanton, Jr. didn’t fit the profile she’d created—at least, at face value. What Billy’s past didn’t reveal in writing was that his father had never been home to fulfill his fatherly duties, virtually making the household a single parent mansion devoid of supervision.

  Billy was about the right age, had the right overall background, and pretty much checked the rest of the boxes she’d formed when constructing her profile with the exception of his current relationship with Julie Brigham.

  Wasn’t there always a stinger in the mix?

  “Where did you hear that doozy?” Billy asked warily, his attention now solely focused on Miles. “From Noah Kendall? I was initially interested in his place because of the land. As for whatever real estate my father dabbles in, that’s none of my concern.”

  Allie mulled over the insight Miles had just provided, wondering if his inquiry had any merit. She purposefully remained quiet, noticing that Brynn was doing the same. Now that woman had to be a wealth of information that Mitch had already tapped when it came to what was going on around town. There had to be things she’d overheard that she probably hadn’t fully connected yet.

  Brynn would be worthy of a private interview.

  “I’m not sure where I heard that tidbit of information from exactly.” Miles’ eyes were slightly squinted as he continued to regard Billy with suspicion. “But I don’t have to tell you that Tiny and Rose would never sell their lake property to anyone, no matter what they’re offered.”

  “As I said, my parents don’t keep me apprised of every real estate decision they are considering,” Billy replied rather briskly, clearly attempting to end the conversation. It did leave one curious, though. Allie had dealt with many investigations where the parents did their best to cover up their children’s crimes. If the Stantons were buying up private lake property around the unsub’s former killing ground, did that mean they were in possession of information regarding their son’s guilt or innocence? “Brynn, could we get a few orders of wings for the table? Have the cook drown and burn them.”

  There was no please or thank you. So much for small town manners. Allie was now rethinking that run at mayor. It was easy to see why Miles believed that Billy felt entitled, especially given his propensity to treat others with such contempt.

  “You must be the friend Mitch invited to town,” Billy said with a charming smile, channeling all his attention on her. His ability to alter his mood like flicking a switch was another telltale sign that he could be a sociopath and the possible suspect Mitch had been looking for in this investigation. She’d been hoping to stay under the radar and just listen to their exchange. Unfortunately, from her understanding, that didn’t often happen in small towns. “I’m Billy Stanton.”

  “Allie Delaney,” she replied, returning his loose, halfhearted handshake. She noticed right away that he was right-handed. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You’re from D.C., aren’t you?” Billy nodded his thanks toward Brynn when she slid another bottle of beer his way. She’d put together a tray of four additional beers and five shots of what could only be whiskey to take over to the table he and his friends had claimed upon entering the establishment. “This must be quite the change for a city girl like you. No Starbucks for miles.”

  He just had to remind her of that inconvenience, hadn’t he? No wonder people didn’t like the man.

  “I was just telling Mr. Schaeffer that I would have loved to have grown up in a town like this. Big cities are a lot rougher than you might think, even with a Starbucks on every corner.” Allie didn’t doubt that every word she uttered in this bar would be whispered in everyone’s ears come morning. “Blyth Lake reminds me of a Norman Rockwell painting. I love it.”

  “Yeah, if you add splashes of red to those paintings,” Billy said with a laugh that wasn’t returned. He looked at everyone in the vicinity with disbelief. “Get it? Red for blood. Come on. We have a serial killer on the loose, snatching up all the available talent. You don’t find that funny?”

  “Jeremy is sitting at the end of the bar, in case you didn’t notice. You need to keep talk like that to yourself,” Brynn informed him in a low tone as she leaned over the bar. She’d yet to take the tray of beers and shots over to his table. “Your joke wasn’t funny at all, Billy.”

  Jeremy Bell was the father of Whitney Bell, one of the serial killer’s latest victims. Her murder had been the most recent, but long overdue in the psychopath’s twisted perception of reality. It was easy to see his contempt for the younger man who had the compassion and common sense of a third-grader, and that was probably being overly generous.

  “You’re the one who went to medical school, aren’t you?” Allie asked, turning her head so that Billy didn’t miss her warning. “I can see the reason you didn’t make it through the vetting process. Your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired.”

  In the city, everyone had an opinion. It wasn’t all that unusual, and it certainly didn’t warrant gaining the attention of every individual within hearing distance. Blyth Lake was different, and Allie had known better than to draw additional, unwanted attention, more so than she already had. The bar had become excruciatingly silent, allowing the music from the jukebox to suddenly be front and center.

  Damn it.

  It was obvious that Billy didn’t have a whole lot of people call him out, because he was still standing next to her with a slack-jawed incredulous expression. She didn’t break eye contact with him until he did in their one-sided dual of wills.

  “I like her, Jeremy,” Miles said, breaking the tension as he lifted his beer in salute. “Welcome to Blyth Lake, Allie.”

  Allie was relatively sure she heard the usual fuck you exclamation muttered underneath Billy’s breath before he turned on the heel of his expensive brown loafers. A medic certainly couldn’t afford Italian designer hand-tooled leather shoes or the expensive name brand clothes he was wearing, which left her to believe he did live off that trust fund his parents had set up for him. It was most likely one that he never had to worry about running short on funds.

  “I like you, too,” Brynn replied with a wide smile. “You’ll fit in around here just fine.”

  Brynn lifted the tray of longneck beers and top shelf whiskies before exiting from her spot behind the bar. She was more
than happy to drown Billy’s self-inflicted wounds in mildly expensive alcohol.

  Allie wasn’t sure why the woman would say something about her fitting in, especially considering that this visit was temporary. Mitch had explained her reasons for being here to his immediate family, hadn’t he?

  “Mr. Bell, I heard about your daughter,” Allie said softly, trying to undo some of the unpleasantness Billy Stanton had spewed out. “You have my deepest condolences, sir.”

  Jeremy stared back at her with an intensity that would have made most people uncomfortable. He still wasn’t sure of her character, and she couldn’t blame him for using a discerning manner. There were a lot of strangers milling about Blyth Lake due to the news coverage of the serial killer, and they all wanted to cash in by singling out something about the case…more likely a story that would make their name national news.

  “Molly mentioned that you’re a profiler for the FBI.” Jeremy turned the coffee mug on the old wooden surface of the bar over and over as he weighed his thoughts. It had been detailed in Whitney’s report that her father was an unrepentant alcoholic. Had the tragedy of losing his daughter changed his ways? It wasn’t unheard of in cases like this. “Is that true?”

  “Yes, although I’m not here in any official capacity.” Allie didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up that she could contribute to the investigation in any meaningful way. She wasn’t a miracle worker, though she did believe she could draw the unsub out into the open. Her background was exactly what he looked for in a victim…a female with an unhappy childhood. “I’m a friend of Mitch’s from way back. But if I can provide any insight into the case, I won’t hesitate to do so.”

  Jeremy nodded slowly, all the while never breaking eye contact.

  “What do you make of those letters the killer is sending Charlene Winston?” Miles asked after taking a swig of his beer. He was totally oblivious to the silent conversation hanging in the air between Allie and Jeremy. “You’d think there was a way to get fingerprints off the paper, like they do in those crime shows. Maybe even sweat DNA.”