Promises in the Dark

by D. K. Hood

  “That was a strange thing to say.” Kane shook his head. “And how did that make you feel?”

  “Angry.” Cleaves shook his head. “Now look at her, she’s dead and someone has one of her daughters.”

  Puzzled by the man’s reply, Kane made a few notes.

  When Carter came out the closet with an evidence bag and held up a small amount of C-4, Kane turned back to Cleaves. “As the explosives are part of a previous investigation, we’re confiscating it as evidence. We won’t be charging you.” He added a note about the explosives to the statement and handed it over to Cleaves. “Sign where I’ve added the explosives and we’ll be on our way.”

  When Cleaves agreed without complaint, Kane followed Carter to the door. He dropped the man’s pistol on the side table with the clip and headed outside, glad to be in the fresh air again. As they walked to the Beast, he fell in step beside him. “He was in DC around the time of the bombings. I wonder if the C-4 is from the same batch used in the bombing?”

  “Hmm, Wolfe has the equipment to find out.” Carter removed his hat and scratched his head making his hair stick up in all directions. “No sign of the girl?”

  Kane shook his head. “Nope but he’s been walking through mud and there was a freshly dug garden bed right outside the Woods’ backdoor. He had a problem with Mrs. Wood and I figure a crush on Sophie.” He smiled. “I do believe we have a suspect.”

  Sixteen

  The FBI and the Black Rock Falls sheriff were using the divide and conquer routine to speak to everyone even remotely involved in the explosion. They could hound him as much as they liked but he wasn’t worried at all. There was no evidence against him, he’d been too careful. The way to grease the wheels was to be as cooperative as possible and carry on life as normal. He’d be heading into work soon but had something to do before he left. He backed his truck out of the garage and picked up the hose. He liked to keep his truck clean, and people didn’t take too much notice of him as he washed and polished his pride and joy. There was something therapeutic about hosing down and washing his truck, he liked to watch the mud from his wheels wash away in a gray swirl into the gutter and down the drain. He bit back a grin. Kind of like watching Sophie bobbing along in the water and then plunging over the falls. He’d heard her scream disappearing in the distance before the falls swallowed her up. Now the urge to go look for her was driving him insane. He wanted to be there when they dragged her broken and battered body from the river. Or would anyone find her before the wildlife? So many people walked into Stanton Forest and never returned. The dense mass of tall pines, mountain peaks, and caves held their own danger, not to mention the dangerous ravines cut from glaciers millions of years ago that claimed many lives. Once the forest had taken a person, they vanished forever.

  Her escaping had been fortunate. It had saved him the trouble of getting rid of her and he’d have had to sooner or later, because as much fun as it would have been leaving her to the rats, he needed to use the cave again. He had to admit, she’d been no fun at all. She’d refused to play his game and sulked most of the time and he’d tired of her. Now the falls would cover his involvement in her disappearance and wash away any evidence. Many had fallen to their deaths over the waterfalls in the forest and after the pummeling of millions of tons of water on flesh, the result wasn’t pretty. He sighed, he had better things to do than think about Sophie Wood—in fact he’d visit his cabin soon and make plans. He’d lain awake at night planning just like before.

  He took a cloth and wiped down the paintwork. He’d followed the media coverage on his last acts of revenge. They’d murdered an innocent man to atone for his crimes but he’d never believed his actions were wrongdoings. He’d never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it. He hadn’t killed Sophie, had he? She had made her own fate. The others, the families, and kids, well they were what the government called “collateral damage”—those killed during a mission to remove someone who’d become a danger to others. He’d read that somewhere and it rang true. Everyone he’d blown up or burned had been a danger to others and what kind of man would he be if he’d left the kids alive to be shoved into the system? He understood the system only too well. He looked at his reflection in the window as he wiped away the water droplets. People would call him a psychopath, a man devoid of emotions, who held no value to life. This was the problem—he cared too much. He accessed his blog. Writing his cryptic posts made it real and reading them gave him a sense of achievement but only he would know their true meaning. He smiled as the words formed in his mind.

  I’m alone again, my visitor left today; we’d had fun playing games together. It was surreal, sharing my time with her but we all know that life ebbs and flows like a river. My friend decided to join the stream back to reality.

  Seventeen

  It was going to be one of those days when an investigation was as slow as walking in quicksand. Jenna climbed behind the wheel of her vehicle, turned on the engine and cranked up the aircon. It was a beautiful day, not at all hot but inside her SUV the temperature had become uncomfortable. She waited for Jo to slip into the passenger seat. They’d covered a lot of ground in the last few hours. After dropping by the command center set up to find Sophie Wood, she’d been disappointed the widespread search had yielded no sightings of the girl and nothing positive had come in on the hotline. They’d gone on to visit the family and friends of the Woods. It had been an exhausting task even though the town of Louan wasn’t large, it was compact and their visits had entailed disturbing people at their workplaces to gain information. She turned to Jo. “It seems the Woods were angels according to their family and friends but I’ve never met anyone working in social services who hasn’t upset someone.”

  “Me either.” Jo pulled a bottle of water from a cooler on the back seat and opened it before handing it to Jenna. “I figure we go and speak to the people in their office. There’s always gossips and knowing what cases they are currently involved in might give us a lead.” She grabbed another bottle and turned to face her. “Although we’ll have to come in heavy. You know how difficult it is to get people to talk. Someone obviously had it in for the family and someone has to know who it is.”

  Jenna sipped the water and then started the engine. “The Child and Family Services Department should be on Main. Kane tried to get some information from a social worker about a suspect on a case we were working on, multiple murders or known pedophiles and got nowhere, so I’m not holding my breath.”

  “Sometimes, flashing my creds helps loosen their tongues.” Jo fastened her seatbelt. “The fact that the people we’re asking about are deceased will help too.” She shrugged. “We really don’t have any other avenues to explore. If we don’t find any clues, I’ll be hoping Kane and Carter have gotten something.”

  After dropping her sunglasses over her eyes from their position on the top of her head, Jenna headed down Main and pulled into a space near the CFSD. She slid out and glanced up and down the street. The townsfolk bustled along in their daily routines but it wasn’t like Black Rock Falls. Her town was a working town and dusty battered pickups and men with the heels worn down on their cowboy boots was a normal sight. In Louan, clean and sparkling late model vehicles moved through town, or had parked at the curb. The local stores also showed a marked opulence compared to her town and the prices of shoes alone seemed exorbitant. She doubted the Louan homeless shelter was overflowing like out at Black Rock Falls because the Louan noticeboard had tons of employment opportunities. She decided to snap a few photographs of the board and send them to Father Derry, the local priest who ran the soup kitchen and shelters in Black Rock Falls.

  “Looking for a new job?” Jo smiled at her. “If you’re ever planning on leaving Black Rock Falls, I’d love to have you join me in Snakeskin Gully. We work well together and I don’t figure my boss would complain about me having a permanent consultant or two on the payroll.”

  Laughing, Jenna pushed her phone back into her pocket. “Thanks, but I think I�
�m needed in Black Rock Falls. I was sending the details of the jobs to our local priest, so he can spread the word.”

  “That’s a great idea.” Jo indicated toward a redbrick office building. “Let’s hope we get some cooperation and then we can head for the diner. I’m starving and in need of caffeine.”

  They entered the cool, quiet building and Jenna stood back to allow Jo to flash her creds and speak to the receptionist.

  “We’re here investigating the deaths of Isaac and Connie Wood and their daughter Jody in a housefire.” Jo leaned on the counter. “I realize how difficult it is for social workers these days and wonder if you recall any one of the Woods’ clients making complaints or causing trouble?”

  “They’re dead?” The woman looked aghast. “It is not my place to talk about their cases.”

  “Okay then, are there any of their fellow social workers we could speak to, who might be able to help?” Jo gave her a stiff smile.

  “I’m sure I don’t know.” The receptionist went back to her computer screen.

  More than a little annoyed at the woman’s complete lack of empathy, Jenna stepped up to the counter. “We’d like to see the person in charge. Can you at least give me their name?”

  “That would be Mr. Phelps and you’d need an appointment if you’re planning on speaking to him.” The woman with tight brown curls and an expression as if she had a permanent bad smell under her nose looked at Jenna with a triumphant expression.

  “As this is an FBI matter, call him and tell him we’re here.” Jo rolled her eyes at Jenna.

  “Then take a seat and wait.” The receptionist didn’t pick up the phone and just went back to her computer.

  Anger seeped under Jenna’s mask of professionalism and she leaned on the desk. “We’re in the middle of a murder investigation and have a missing girl to locate. We don’t have time to sit and wait. Get on your phone and call him now.”

  “He doesn’t like to be disturbed during his break.” The receptionist glanced at the clock. “I’ll tell him you’re here after one.”

  Jenna looked at the small foyer behind her and the shingle on the door, John A Phelps, Director. She nodded to the woman and turned to Jo. “He’s through that door, come on.”

  “But you can’t—” The receptionist shot up from her seat.

  “Oh, but we can.” Jo followed Jenna into the foyer.

  Having been raised to be polite, Jenna knocked on the door before walking inside the dim office. The blinds had been closed and a tall slim man lay stretched out on a sofa with one arm flung over his eyes. Soft snoring filled the room. She moved close and raised her voice. “Mr. Phelps, wakey, wakey. The FBI are here to speak to you.”

  “W-what!” Phelps sat up and glared at them. “How did you get in here?”

  “FBI, Mr. Phelps.” Jo went over to the blinds and twisted the rod to allow the sunshine to filter into the room. “I’m Special Agent Jo Wells and this is Jenna Alton.”

  “FBI?” Phelps dropped his feet to the floor and stared at them as if they were apparitions. “What could you possibly want with me?”

  Jenna dropped into a chair in front of his desk. “Answers, Mr. Phelps. Please join us, we don’t have all day.”

  “Okay.” Phelps pushed both hands through a head of thick black hair and stood. “What is this all about?”

  Jenna pulled out her notebook and pen. “What can you tell me about Isaac and Connie Wood?”

  “In what respect?” Phelps looked from one to the other.

  “What were they working on?” Jo sat beside Jenna and smiled. “Any cases that could’ve had repercussions, made enemies, bad blood or whatever?”

  “No, not that I recall.” Phelps went to his computer and tapped away at the keyboard. “No, in fact, Connie’s on leave to complete her studies. I thought it best for her to get away for a time. She worked in child safety for some years and became very upset when one of the children she placed in foster care was killed.”

  Jenna blinked. She hadn’t been made aware of any child murders lately. “Murdered?”

  “Oh heavens, no.” Phelps looked shocked. “An accident.”

  “And Mr. Wood, anyone on his case files who might have had an ax to grind?” Jo crossed her legs. “I am fully aware the job of a social worker can be very difficult but if one of his clients was responsible for murdering the Woods family, we need to know.”

  “The Woods are dead—murdered?” The color had drained from Phelps’ face. He gripped the sides of his chair and swayed. “Dear God, I can’t believe it.”

  Jenna exchanged a meaningful look with Jo. This man was either distraught or a very good actor. “Well, do you recall anyone who might have had a beef against Mr. Wood?”

  “I don’t usually divulge the names of people who come to this center for our help but I do remember two individuals who, as you say, had a beef with Isaac. I’ll get you their details.” He scanned his screen and after a few minutes, his printer burst into life and spat out a page. “Here you go.”

  Jenna scanned the document and then looked at him. “What exactly caused a problem between these men and Mr. Wood? They obviously lodged a complaint or you wouldn’t have it on file.”

  “Roger Suffolk is out of Buffalo Ridge. He came here with his wife for counseling and when things didn’t work out, his wife left him. Soon after, he came to Wood’s office and made threats. Our sheriff let him off with a warning but Wood was convinced the man was following him.”

  “Was he violent toward Mr. Wood?” Jo leaned forward in her chair. “And did he ever hit his wife?”

  “He yelled some and threatened to complain to the board about Wood’s unsound advice and yes, according to Wood’s case notes, Suffolk disciplined his wife on numerous occasions but to no avail.” Phelps continued to scroll through documents. “After his wife left him, he went through a period of violent behavior but settled after the sheriff gave him a few days in the cells to straighten himself out.”

  Shocked by Phelps’ attitude toward women, Jenna raised a brow. “He wasn’t charged for spousal abuse?”

  “There’s no need to ruin a man’s life for a domestic, Agent Alton.” Phelps gave her a slow smile. “Some women step over the line with their husbands and it’s the husband’s duty to show them the error of their ways.” He met her eyes. “She did after all promise to obey when they made their vows. It is a contract only broken by a court.”

  Outraged by his comments, Jenna leaned forward to give him a piece of her mind, when Jo touched her arm. After seeing firsthand, the damage spousal abuse caused to families and the amount of deaths of both men and women due to their partner’s aggressive behavior, she had a no-tolerance rule in her town. She had founded the Her Broken Wings Foundation with Kane to support battered women and had made consideration for men caught in similar circumstances. She cleared her throat. “I assume Sheriff Crenshaw agrees with your decisions on this matter?”

  “He does indeed.” Phelps looked pleased with himself. “He is very supportive of the CFSD.”

  “This man on your list, Peter Huntley, what problems did he cause the Woods?” Jo sat up straight and gave him a direct stare, her face emotionless.

  “That was some time ago. Connie took the children away from them because they were dependent on welfare.” Phelps towered his fingers and leaned back in his chair. “There is no excuse not to work in Louan, Agent Wells, we have work for everyone here. The children were placed in care and offered up for adoption. Connie arranged it all and found them caring homes but Huntley went over to Black Rock Falls and spoke to a lawyer over there. He represented Huntley in court and took the case not to the local magistrate but insisted on a judge presiding over the case. The children were returned to the parents. I do believe they moved to Black Rock Falls.”

  Jenna wanted to smile but swallowed the urge. There was one Black Rock Falls lawyer she’d butted horns with many a time. He was the best defense lawyer she’d met. “Ah, I see. Would the lawyer have been Sam
Cross by any chance?”

  “Why, yes, that’s his name.” Phelps gave her a long considering stare. “They are the only complaints we have on record and anything else would be hearsay.”

  Jenna pushed to her feet. “Okay, thank you for your assistance, we’ll let you get back to your nap.”

  Outside the office, Jenna turned to Jo. “I don’t think we have to worry about Peter Huntley. His name hasn’t come up since I’ve been in Black Rock Falls. If he’d neglected his kids or caused a problem, I’d be the first to know. Since we busted a pedophile ring some time ago, the schools and social workers don’t take any chances when it comes to kids’ welfare. We’ll need to concentrate on Roger Suffolk. His place of employment is listed as the local blacksmith at the Crazy Iron Forge.”

  “From the description of him, he fits the profile. Although he’s forty-five, that’s a bit older than I’d imagined.” Jo frowned. “Maybe we need to wait for Kane and Carter before we go see him. He might be dangerous.”

  Jenna smiled. “Don’t worry. Nothing can possibly happen at his place of business. We’ll be fine.” She headed for her vehicle.

  Eighteen

  The Crazy Iron Forge lay on the outskirts of town at the end of a circular driveway wide enough to take an eighteen-wheeler and then some. Situated some ways from a ranch house, set back on sizable acreage, the forge was housed in a redbrick building with a massive chimney stack, billowing a heat haze into the summer sky. To one side of the building, horses’ heads peered over gates in a stable block. Jenna pulled up alongside the stables to keep her sheriff’s marked SUV out of sight; she didn’t plan on spooking Roger Suffolk. As they walked toward the forge, she could hear hammering on metal and then the hiss as the hot object was plunged into the barrel of water to cool. From the lineup of labeled farm machinery and implements leaning against a wall, Roger Suffolk was a busy man. A large white truck was parked outside emblazoned with the Crazy Iron Forge logo but no other vehicles were in sight. She turned to Jo. “I wonder if he works alone?”