Remnants

by Carolyn Arnold

  “What about any other trace evidence from the scene?” Jack asked.

  “I’ve got a list of everything collected,” Lieutenant Pike said, speaking for the first time since we’d arrived. “Just came in before we got here. A printed list is back at the precinct.”

  Jack seemed to look through Pike. “We need everything the second you get it.”

  Pike squared his shoulders. “You’ll be getting it now.”

  Jack straightened to his full height, and his eyes locked on Pike, who looked away. Jack addressed Garrett. “We’ll need the results as soon as humanly possible.”

  “And you will get them.” He let his gaze drift over us. “Are you all staying for the autopsy?”

  Jack clasped his hands behind his back. No one else moved.

  “All right, then.” Garrett stepped closer to the body.

  “Actually, Jack…” Paige’s voice cut through the room.

  Jack faced her, and she continued. “I’d like to give notice to Eric Morgan’s widow.”

  He shook his head. “Local law enforcement can take care of that.”

  Her cheeks took on a pink hue, and while the other men turned away, I watched her talk to Jack.

  “It would mean a lot if I could do it,” she said. “We’re waiting on results anyway.”

  “No, Paige. I can’t let you go right now.”

  Her face fell, and she blew out a breath that had her hair fanning outward. She chewed on her bottom lip and nodded. To those who didn’t know her well, she might have appeared slightly broken, but I detected a lick of anger in her eyes. No doubt Jack, who had known her longer than me, saw it, too. But apparently it wasn’t going to sway his decision.

  Garrett proceeded with the autopsy, and a couple of hours later, we were leaving GBI.

  In the parking lot, Pike yawned. “You coming back to the precinct?”

  I’d glanced at the clock before we’d left the morgue, and it was after eleven. My body was certainly ready for bed, and as frustrating as it was, there wasn’t much that could be done tonight. As Jack had mentioned earlier in the day, he needed his team to have energy, and if looking at Paige, Zach, and even Jack was any indication, we all needed rest.

  Jack shook his head. “Have that list ready tomorrow morning. We’ll see you at seven.” He headed toward one of the SUVs.

  Pike saluted Jack and went for his vehicle, as well.

  Paige stood in front of Jack. “What about Kelly Morgan?”

  “I’ll make the call to have someone go by.”

  “Tonight, Jack. She deserves to know.”

  Jack put a hand on her shoulder. “Tonight.”

  Paige held his gaze for a few seconds and left for the other SUV.

  I watched Paige as she walked ahead of me. Her shoulders sagged and her feet seemed to drag. She was more than physically exhausted. She was taking this part of the case personally.

  -

  Chapter 36

  THE NEXT MORNING, I was happy to see that Paige seemed her normal self again. The weariness that had been etched into her eyes and weighting her stride was gone.

  Caffeine was buzzing through my system, but that’s what happened when I drank two coffees in fast succession. But there was no getting around the fact that I needed something to perk me up. Sleep hadn’t come easy again last night. Paige’s face when the roadside victim had been identified as Eric Morgan kept replaying in my mind. Interspersed with that was the horrific display of the body and scattered thoughts of Becky. I finally managed to nod off at about three but had a restless sleep full of idiotic dreams that made absolutely no sense.

  The team was in the meeting room and so was Pike. As he’d promised Jack, a printout of the list of items Forensics had collected at the crime scene yesterday was available to us upon arrival. In fact, he had four copies on the table.

  The list of possible evidence was long, and while most probably wouldn’t factor into the case, more was always better. Fingerprints were missing, but that just told us our unsub—or unsubs—were careful and likely wore gloves. The list did include, however, carpet fiber and hairs.

  “The lab is determining the makeup of the carpet and hopefully can connect it to a manufacturer and whether it came from a vehicle or a home,” Pike said. “There were a few hairs found. Some were on the back of the skin, so it seems likely they won’t belong to the victim.”

  “And there are usable skin tags?” Zach asked.

  What most people failed to realize was that hair could tell investigators a lot about the person it came from—region and diet, for example. But without a skin tag, there was no way to pull DNA.

  Pike nodded. “At least one does.”

  “Tell us more about the fiber,” Jack requested.

  “It’s coarse and a dark-charcoal color. That’s about all I know.” Pike was standing and put his hands on his hips as he looked around at us.

  There was a knock on the door then, and Detective Rowlands came in with a report and handed it off to Pike. “The results from the phone company on Stanley Gilbert’s account,” he said and swiftly left.

  Pike skimmed it and said, “Calls came in regularly from a local number—before and after his disappearing act—from a number registered to Patty Haven.”

  “Seems that Stanley might have been having an affair,” I theorized.

  Pike pressed his lips together. “If so, what do ya know? He had some backbone to him.”

  Jack looked at me and I read the unspoken question in his eyes. Yesterday when I’d tried to reach Patty Haven, my efforts had resulted in leaving a voice mail. I shook my head. “She hasn’t returned my call.”

  Jack nodded. “I must admit it seems odd that he’d frequent Patty’s Pub. We need to establish a personal connection between the two of them and, if there is one, find out how far back it goes.” Jack glanced at Pike. “Let’s start with her background.” Jack left with Pike and minutes later, they both returned.

  Jack gave us a recap. “She was born Patricia Long and was originally from Lansing, Michigan. Her father was a senator for the state. She moved to Savannah ten years ago. She got married to a Wayne Reed not long after coming here, but the divorce went through five years ago. She then immediately changed her last name, and that of her now twenty-three-year-old son Joshua, to Haven. Joshua’s father was marked as unknown. Here’s Joshua’s file.” Jack handed it to me, and I opened it.

  The eyes staring back at me were ones I remembered seeing before. “I’ve seen this guy!”

  “Calm down, Brandon, just tell us where and when,” Paige said.

  “At the roadside crime scene. He was driving by watching everything. We made eye contact.” My heart was racing.

  “What was he driving?”

  “A white van.” I thumbed through the report. “Nothing’s registered to him. What about Patty?”

  Jack opened the folder and shook his head. “Just a Lexus sedan.”

  “He was there because he wanted to see the investigation, I can feel it. And Patty was from Lansing like Stanley, and the kid’s father is unknown? It might be a stretch, but come on!” I was getting a bit worked up.

  “Call Stanley’s parents,” Jack instructed me in a calm but stern voice.

  I got up and left the room. The phone rang three times before a woman answered. “Is this Arlene Gilbert?”

  “Yeah, who are you?”

  “I’m Brandon Fisher, an agent with the FBI, and I have a question about your son, Stan—”

  “I’ve seen his face and name all over the news. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. He wouldn’t harm nobody.”

  “Ma’am, I—”

  “Don’t you ma’am me. Tell me what you want.”

  There was no way I could give her any indication, no matter how subtle, that we had proof of Stanley’s involvement or she wouldn�
��t say a word to me. “We’d like to talk to you about girlfriends Stanley might have had before he went off to college.” About one possibility in particular, really, but I had to pace myself.

  “Stanley never had girlfriends. He was quiet, kept to himself. Was a good student. He got straight As.”

  “Often good students are bullied. Was that the case with Stanley?”

  “Well, yes, but he could handle himself. He had some friends who stuck by him. There was one who was a girl, but not a girlfriend, no. I think he had a crush on her in high school, though. What was her name again? Cecil!” she yelled out, failing to turn away from the phone. Her screechy voice sent a sharp pain through my head and had my eardrum aching. “Who was that girl Stanley liked when he was growing up? Patricia? Something like that?”

  A man was mumbling incoherently in the background.

  Arlene came back to the phone. “Patricia…something. I’m sorry but I don’t know her last name.”

  “Long?” I asked, going with her birth name.

  “Yes, yes, that’s it.” There was a lightness to her voice at the beginning, but it darkened when she said, that’s it. “My boy would never do what you think him capable of.”

  Parents never thought the worst of their kids.

  “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Gilbert.” My gratitude was met with a dial tone.

  I returned to the conference room and shared everything that I had learned from Arlene. “Patty and Stanley were close as teens, and from the sound of it, he had pretty strong feelings for her. So it’s quite possible he’s the father of her son.”

  Pike dropped into a chair.

  “I take it you had no idea Stanley had a son,” Jack stated.

  Pike shook his head. “No clue whatsoever.”

  “It’s quite possible that Stanley and his son are working together,” I said.

  “The phone number that called Stanley was registered to Patty, though,” Pike lamented.

  “It is possible that all this involves the mother somehow, too. We know Stanley had an interest in Mayan culture.” Zach crept into the conversation. “What if Joshua was trying to impress his father?”

  Jack didn’t say anything.

  “He could have figured it was a way to get his father’s attention,” Paige ventured.

  “I’d say it’s likely Stanley wasn’t aware he had a son until four years ago when all the killing seemed to start,” I suggested.

  “Hmm.” A sideways glance from Jack. “What made an ordinary—and seemingly upstanding—citizen aid and abate a serial killer?”

  Zach shrugged. “We know the parental bond can be very strong.”

  “Stanley could have gotten involved to protect his son,” Paige said.

  “If Stanley wasn’t united with his son until four years ago, he could have been riddled with guilt—whether he knew about his existence before then or not,” I suggested. “He’d want to bond with his son.”

  Paige glanced at me. “They abducted and murdered together in order to bond? What’s wrong with that picture?”

  “It’s sad, I get it,” I said. “But it’s also possible.”

  “Brandon and I will visit Darla and see if she has anything to say on the subject of Stanley having a son.” Jack turned to me. “We also have more than enough now to justify a warrant to look around the place.”

  “And we’ll be looking for what exactly?” I asked.

  “Any more links that tie him to the murders, further evidence of a secret life, or anything that might tell us more about Joshua or Patty.” Jack looked at me. “You said she didn’t return your call?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Not a surprise, considering.” Jack mumbled.

  -

  Chapter 37

  “YOU’RE BACK AGAIN?” Darla bemoaned our presence while stepping out of the way to let us into her house.

  “We need to know what you know about Stanley’s son,” Jack ground out as he brushed past her. I stuck close behind him.

  She gaped at us. “A son? I don’t know anything about him having a son. We’ve been married for seventeen years. You remember my telling you that, right?”

  “How long were you together before you got married?” I asked.

  “A few years.”

  “But your relationship started in college?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you and Stanley never took a break, saw other people?”

  She glared at me. “No.”

  “Well, the facts remain. Stanley does have a son,” I said, stretching the truth, but we might learn something.

  Darla lifted her chin. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve filed for divorce. He didn’t deserve me in the first place, and now you’re telling me he has a son?” Darla scoffed, letting out a puff of air. “Jackass.”

  I wasn’t giving her any satisfaction by acknowledging her tantrum. “Do you know who Stanley dated before you?”

  “A better question would be, do I know of anyone?” She snickered. “He got a lucky break with me.”

  Again, Darla could make me feel empathy for a man involved with serial murder.

  “It’s important that you think long and hard here, Mrs. Gilbert,” Jack began, “and tell us of anyone Stanley might have dated.”

  Darla’s body stiffened. “He told me that I was his one and only.”

  “He made you think he didn’t have other girlfriends before you,” I stated.

  “Yeah, I guess so.” She raised her hands in the air. “Obviously the man is a sack of lies. I hope you nail his ass to the wall.”

  “You and Stanley moved here five years ago, correct?” I asked to reestablish the facts.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And it was your idea to move here?”

  That met with an eye roll. “Yes.”

  It didn’t seem like a coincidence that the murders had started a year after Stanley had moved to Savannah. He could have met his son not long after coming here or known about him before and just hadn’t bothered with him. It wouldn’t have been easy to hide a long-distance relationship from Darla. “What did Stanley think of the move?”

  She shrugged. “He was fine with it.”

  “Just fine?” I pressed. “What does that mean? He was excited? Indifferent?”

  “He didn’t fight me on it. He knew it was important for me to live in my folks’ house.”

  “And once you moved to Savannah, was he the same man you’d known back in Michigan?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Did he become moody?” Jack elaborated. “Quiet?”

  Darla closed her eyes for a few seconds and let out a deep breath. “Come to think of it, he did become quieter. I just thought he was unhappy being here. And he seemed to lose his appetite, hardly eating anything for dinner.”

  Maybe he’d been snacking before coming home or had more than a couple beers at the pub on Fridays…

  “Did you ever ask him if he wasn’t happy here?” I asked.

  “Nope.”

  And the wife of the year award goes to…

  “Do you think that his son lives here? In Savannah?”

  “It seems likely. Yes,” Jack stated without emotion.

  “He didn’t work the long hours he told me, did he?” A statement that would come out sounding heartbroken from most wives had left Darla’s mouth with indifference. She was looking at Jack to answer her.

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “Oh, that lying sack of—” Darla balled her fists. “He better not come back here.”

  It was a good thing Jack didn’t mention Stanley’s Fridays off or the existence of the cabin. If he had, there might have been another murder, but then again, she’d have to find Stanley first.

  Hey, maybe she could lead us to him…

  J
ack stood. “We’d like to have a look around.”

  Darla crossed her arms. “As I told you before, not without a warrant.”

  “It’s a good thing we have one, then.” Jack pushed it toward her as he started to move through the place.

  Darla kept up with him. “What are you looking for?”

  “It’s all in the warrant.”

  The truth was, there was nothing specific noted in the warrant, but it permitted us to have a look around the property for evidence of his involvement in the murders. Jack and I didn’t know exactly what we were looking for, just that we’d know it when we saw it.

  Jack turned to Darla. “Is there a space in the house that was mostly Stanley’s?”

  “You mean like a man cave?”

  “Precisely,” he replied.

  She shook her head. “Stanley was with me whenever he was home.”

  Of course, he was…

  Meeting his son and becoming involved with serial murder was sadly an outlet Stanley had probably come to see as a release. In the very least it was an escape from this woman.

  “Where’s your bedroom?” Jack continued moving through the house.

  “Upstairs.”

  “Where—”

  Darla pushed past us and led the way.

  Their room was the second on the right and of a generous size with a large window overlooking the river. It was decorated with furniture that I could see having belonged to Darla’s parents, given the bulky frames and oak wood that spoke of thirty years ago. If it wasn’t Darla’s parents’, she and Stanley must have picked it up from a yard sale or auction.

  “If you would stay in the hall, please.” Jack backed Darla out the door.

  She narrowed her eyes at him and scowled, but complied. Her hands shot to her hips.

  I walked through the room. There was an en suite with a Jacuzzi big enough for two, and the spacious walk-in closet had two clearly defined areas for his and hers. The latter took up far more square footage.

  I put on gloves and opened some doors on Stanley’s side but spotted nothing of interest. Jack was rifling through some drawers.