Help me. Please. I know you can see me. Please, please, please.
The world grayed at the edges as I lost consciousness. And the last thing I saw was that face in the forest. Watching me. Just watching.
I snapped from the vision with a start. Gabriel was on the ground, holding me, his hand against my fevered forehead.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay.”
When he saw my eyes open, he exhaled in relief and shifted as he checked my eyes, rechecked my forehead, making sure my rising temperature hadn’t exploded into a full-blown fever. Then he asked, “Did you—?” He stopped. Saw my face and said, “You did.”
I tried to answer but could only nod, my teeth chattering. He pulled me closer and rubbed down the goosebumps on my arm.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.
“I will,” I managed to croak. “Just…” I shivered. “I need a moment.”
“Of course,” he said, and his arms tightened around me as I curled up against him, sitting on the forest floor and trying desperately not to think about what had happened here, all those years ago.
Eighteen
Gabriel
Olivia did eventually tell him what happened. She tried to start at the end, with seeing the person in the forest, but she struggled to stay there, and he’d asked her to go back. To tell the whole thing. As soon as she did, he wished he hadn’t.
He did not wish he hadn’t heard it. He wished he hadn’t asked. When he realized what she was saying, he wished he hadn’t agreed to come here at all.
What the hell had he been thinking?
That wasn’t entirely fair. He knew what they’d both been thinking—that if Olivia had a vision, it would return her to the killing of Gregory Kirkman. While he’d argued against that, she’d insisted, and he’d had to admit that, since she’d seen it once, it was already in her head. She wouldn’t be focusing on Kirkman’s murder anyway—she’d be trying to glean more information about the person in the woods.
They had not considered the possibility that she’d witness one of the murders…from inside the victim. It made sense, though. Olivia had seen Todd and Kirkman through Todd’s memories. Coming back to that spot might not spark a vision of that memory. However, one of the victims—Laura Simmons, the girl from Cainsville—had fae blood. Hers was the story this place wanted to tell. Hers was the one Olivia’s fae blood would show her. The rape and murder of a teenage girl from Cainsville. If Gabriel had even considered that, he’d have done everything in his power to keep Olivia away from this spot even if it’d meant making her angry enough to kick him out of the house.
His own nightmares of that scenario—Olivia throwing him out—seemed laughable compared to what she could have suffered here. He just hadn’t thought—no, he hadn’t thought. Full stop. He should have, and he had not. He could only be thankful now that the vision had set her free when the girl lost consciousness.
Once Olivia retold the early part of the vision, she could focus on the rest. On the man in the forest. He’d sounded young, she said. Not a child but younger than Kirkman. He’d come to take Kirkman to a midnight party given by someone named Mae. Considering that Kirkman was known to be a loner, this struck both of them as unusual. Yet Kirkman had seemed to know the young man well, and the young man knew him well enough to suspect he was in the forest. Then the young man had watched. He’d pretended to leave, snuck back and watched what Kirkman did to his victim.
Gabriel had some idea who the young man might have been. Not specifically who he was, but who he might be in relation to Kirkman. He filed that in the back of his mind without telling Olivia his suspicions. Let her research it without bias.
Research was indeed the next step. Olivia was already on her cell phone browser as they walked out of the forest. When Gabriel’s own phone rang, the noise startled her.
“Detective Parsons,” Gabriel said, and then answered.
His first thought was that someone from the police department had spotted his car near the crime scene. He answered the call with his explanation ready. Instead, Detective Parsons was phoning to let him know that they no longer considered Todd a viable suspect. The social security card had been real, but when an expert examined the business card, they determined it’d been printed recently and artificially weathered before being placed in Kirkman’s pocket. Which suggested the body had been disturbed. The police had already considered that. The state of the burial had suggested it. They would conduct further tests on the body to see whether the soil on it matched the soil where he’d been found. If not, that suggested the body had been moved closer to the girl’s corpse in anticipation of framing Todd.
“I have no idea what’s going on here,” Detective Parsons said. “But I thought I should let you know we’re not actively pursuing Todd as a suspect at this time. I’m sure Olivia will be glad to hear that.”
“She will. Thank you.”
The detective paused. “There’s something else.”
Gabriel knew there was. Detective Parsons was a considerate person, who would realize how worried Olivia was over this. She was also interested—for her own purposes—in maintaining a good relationship with Gabriel. However, neither of those things meant she’d call just to tell Gabriel they weren’t pursuing Todd as an active suspect.
“We heard from our anonymous informant again,” she said. “Unfortunately, the operator didn’t realize that we considered this a person of interest. He did, however, know that we weren’t actively pursuing Todd Larsen.”
“And told this to the caller.”
“No, he wouldn’t make that mistake. The caller was very interested in the status of the case. He identified himself as the earlier informant and wanted to know why Todd Larsen was still walking around when we’d found Gregory Kirkman’s body. The operator assured him we were investigating all possibilities, which was enough, apparently, for the caller to realize we wouldn’t be arresting Todd anytime soon. He became extremely upset, enough so that the operator realized something was suspicious. The caller hung up before a trace could be initiated.”
Detective Parsons exhaled. “I thought you should know. I don’t like the sound of that call, particularly in conjunction with your theory from earlier. We’re pursuing this angle, but you should keep an eye on Todd. You might want to notify the local police and get a protective detail on him. If they can’t do it, I’ll see if there’s any chance of us covering it from the state side.”
Gabriel thanked her again. When he hung up, Olivia still had her attention glued to her phone. His side of the conversation hadn’t been enough to alarm her, so she’d gone back to her research.
“Olivia?” he said.
She held up her phone. On the screen was an old photograph of a man in his mid-twenties. “Meet Barry Kirkman.”
“Gregory’s brother?”
“Yep. Greg was the oldest of three. Barry is the youngest. In the middle is Mae, who was having that midnight party.”
Gabriel nodded. This was what he’d suspected. A loner known to avoid socializing might still maintain close ties with his family. Gabriel knew that from experience. A younger man who knew him well? One who seemed to share his proclivities? That suggested a brother.
“Which doesn’t mean Barry must have been the guy in the forest the night Kirkman died,” Olivia continued. “He’s a very strong suspect, though. He sees my father kill his brother. He’s too afraid to intercede—and it happened very, very fast. Then he keeps watching and sees where Ioan put the body. He might have been deciding how to handle it when my father was arrested. Coming forward then meant Todd would tell the world that Greg was a serial killer. My father went to prison, and that was good enough for Barry…until Todd got out. Now it’s too late to positively pin any crimes on Greg, so it can be slanted to seem as if Greg found Todd with Laura Simmons’s body and got killed for it. Greg’s a hero. Todd’s a killer. Barry gets his revenge. I’ll find out more about Barry tonight, and we can pay him a visit
in the morning.”
“We may want to do that now,” Gabriel said, and he told her about Detective Parsons’s concerns.
Nineteen
Olivia
I had an address for Barry Kirkman before we got to the car. According to my research, Barry was married with two kids—a college-aged son and a teenage daughter—and he lived in a suburb between Cainsville and Chicago. Twenty minutes after leaving the forest, we were outside Barry’s house.
We’d parked a block over and walked. Kirkman’s house was on a corner lot with only a chainlink fence, and we’d stopped there, as if talking, while I got a better look at the place. The dining room was at the back, and I could see Barry setting the table as a woman put out dinner. A daughter joined, and they all sat. Their heads bowed in grace, and my teeth gritted at that as I remembered Barry Kirkman’s face watching his brother strangle Laura Simmons. Watching and doing nothing to help her. Watching and enjoying.
On the way here, I’d called Ricky and asked him to keep Todd inside for a while. They’d just been heading out, it seemed. Now I called back to say it was fine to go. We had eyes on Barry Kirkman, and he was otherwise occupied. We’d keep watch for a while and figure out a way to speak to him.
Twenty
Ricky
Todd had just about had enough of this whole babysitting business. Ricky didn’t blame him. He didn’t blame Liv, either, for insisting on it. Her dad just got out of jail, and now he was under threat. Of course she’d want a twenty-four-hour watch on him. But the fact Todd had spent those twenty years in prison meant that he was accustomed to looking out for himself, and he didn’t appreciate being treated like a defenseless target.
Ricky got that, better than Liv or Gabriel could. He’d known guys who’d done time, and as laid-back as Todd might seem, the babysitting rankled. Ricky joked about it being bodyguard duty instead, but that didn’t make it much better. Either way, it said Todd needed protection, and a kid half his age had been assigned to provide it.
Speaking of kids…
A guy had been following them. He wasn’t much younger than Ricky. At first, Ricky figured he was the one who’d sparked the kid’s interest. The guy had been checking out Ricky’s jacket, and then he’d taken out his phone, his gaze moving between that and the jacket, as if searching for the logo online.
Ricky had first noticed the kid on Main Street. He’d followed them to the hardware store. That’s where Todd had wanted to go earlier, before Liv called and put them on lockdown. Todd knew Liv wanted an addition to their house, and he was planning one for her as a gift, but also, Ricky suspected, as a project. Something to sharpen his skills before he resumed his carpentry work. That was Todd’s plan—getting back into his old business.
The question was whether anyone would want to hire exonerated serial killer, Todd Larsen. Even those who agreed he was innocent might not want him in their houses. Todd knew that. He was under no illusions that “acquitted” meant “innocent” to everyone or even to most people. He had a plan for dealing with that, which he’d discussed with Ricky, who knew plenty of guys who’d had to rebuild their own rep after a prison stint or after leaving a gang.
Ricky and Todd also had another plan, one that Liv was going to like a helluva lot less than the career rehabilitation. But, well, Todd was a grown man, forty-six years old and eager to put his life back on track. That would mean moving faster toward an independent life than his daughter might like. Liv would not appreciate Ricky’s “intervention” in this right away, but she’d be fine with it once she realized Todd wouldn’t melt into the ozone if she stopped watching over him.
As for the guy following them, it was only as they neared the hardware store that Ricky realized Todd was his target. Ricky had caught him taking a few photos, and he could tell by the angle that he wasn’t the main subject.
Liv really wasn’t going to like that. The kid must be a local—Cainsville didn’t exactly attract outsiders that age. So this local kid had heard that Todd Larsen was in town, and he’d set out to snap a few pics for Instagram. Even better, he now had photos of Todd accompanied by a biker. Someone seeing those shots would eventually identify Ricky as Liv’s ex, so he wasn’t too worried about the “biker” connection hurting Todd, but it’d still be the kind of press Liv would rather avoid. Which meant Ricky had to do something about it. The fact this kid was a local meant Ricky couldn’t pull a Gabriel and snatch the phone away. It had to be handled more delicately.
Ricky accompanied Todd into the hardware shop. As he did, he caught a glimpse of… He wasn’t sure what he saw. A shimmer of motion behind them, the door staying open a fraction too long after they entered.
Fae. He knew that instinctively. Liv had caught a curious fae following him and Todd yesterday, and it seemed that fae hadn’t learned her lesson.
Ricky looked around the store. It was empty except for Gordon Webster—the doc’s brother and store owner—stocking shelves. Safe enough especially at midday. He’d tell Gabriel to have another chat with the elders. For now…
“I’m going to wait outside,” Ricky said.
Todd seemed relieved. A few minutes free of his shadow. Todd said he was going to speak to Webster, and Ricky stepped back out the front door. The kid had ducked around the side, doing nearly as lousy a job of hiding as that damned fae.
Ricky checked his phone. He’d surreptitiously snapped shots of the kid as they’d walked. Most were useless—the subject barely in the frame—but he found a decent one and zoomed in on the guy’s face. Then he went into his contacts, dug up Patrick’s number and sent it to him with a note.
Two minutes later, a response came.
Patrick: Not local.
Ricky: You sure?
Patrick: Yep. Not many kids that age in town.
Damn. He wanted Patrick to say, Oh yes, that was so-and-so’s son, and they’d go have a chat with him and sort this out. They’d use their fae powers of compulsion to convince the guy not to post those pictures, and everything would be fine.
Ricky glanced into the hardware store. Todd was talking to Webster. There was no sign of the fae. Ricky didn’t like walking away and leaving Todd with her but… Well, this was Cainsville. There were plenty of fae, all curious by nature, and with the extra precautions the elders had taken for Todd’s return, Ricky couldn’t imagine a random malicious one wandering around undetected. Even if that were the case, it was only six p.m. and Todd was talking to a human. He’d be safe, and Ricky didn’t expect this to take long.
Ricky took one last look at Todd. Then he headed toward the intruder still hiding beside the shop. As Ricky approached, he studied the guy’s shadow extending out onto the sidewalk. He seemed to be doing something. Fussing with his phone? Uploading those pictures? Shit.
Ricky picked up speed. An alley ran between the hardware store and the neighboring shop. A typical Cainsville alley—a bright, manicured walkway, rather than a dark, urban invitation to a mugging. It’d still be useful, though, secluded as it was. Ricky could confront the guy in there and—
He stopped. The building beside the hardware store had a side window. It was blocked on the inside, probably because it overlooked a solid wall. The glass reflected the guy in the alley. It showed what he held in his hand…and it wasn’t a cell phone.
It was a gun.
Ricky paused just long enough to be absolutely sure he wasn’t misidentifying a bottle or a knife or anything else. He wasn’t. He might not carry a gun himself, but the Saints made most of their profit from the sale of ones just like this.
Ricky took another second to consider the possibility of apprehending the kid without getting shot. Yeah, no, he wasn’t ever going to be that stupid. Even if he snuck around the building, he risked being heard the second he stepped into the alley. A kid like that could be spooked into pulling the trigger.
Ricky retreated slowly. Then he hurried into the hardware shop and jogged to Todd.
“We need to go,” he said.
Todd raised
a “just a minute” finger.
“No, now.” Ricky clasped Todd’s elbow. That startled Webster, and Todd balked, but Ricky propelled him out the back door.
“I just needed another minute,” Todd said, voice sharp with irritation. “Whatever Liv is worried about, it could have waited—”
“Guy,” Ricky said as he kept Todd moving. “Gun.”
“What?” Todd wrenched from Ricky’s grasp.
“A kid was following us. He has a gun. I don’t. We need to get back—”
Todd didn’t need Ricky to finish. He broke into a jog. Ricky took off after him and—
Something hit him. That’s all he knew. Something slammed into his side and knocked him clean off his feet. Cold fingers clamped around his throat even as he sailed through the air.
He fumbled to grab for the hands, and he felt an arm, an ice-cold, rock-solid arm. Fingers dug into the side of his neck…and everything went dark.
Twenty-one
Olivia
Barry Kirkman was walking his dog. He’d left the house after dinner, leading a dog that Lloergan could swallow in a mouthful. Hell, TC was bigger than this canine. I didn’t know the breed, but it had short and stubby legs that tired easily, and before Barry had gone a quarter mile, he was carrying the pooch. He didn’t head back, though. He kept walking, as if this excursion was more about him than the dog. That made me think he had a goal in mind, that “I’m walking the dog” was just an excuse. Yet we’d been following him since he started, and he’d stayed within the neighborhood, nothing here except houses. He hadn’t even taken out his phone. Nor had he checked his watch as if he needed to meet someone. He just walked.
Once I was sure nothing interesting was about to happen, I made it happen. I skirted down a side street, and when Barry turned the next corner, I was there, pretending to open a community mailbox. He started walking past, and I turned right in his path. And there I was, staring into the middle-aged face of the young man I’d seen in the forest. The one who’d watched Greg Kirkman strangle Laura Simmons.
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