SORRY CAN'T SAVE YOU: A Mystery Novel

by Willow Rose

  Detective Grande stares at Jonathan, mouth gaping. “So…wait a minute…you’re telling me, it was all a…lie?”

  Jonathan sends her a compassionate smile. “Not all of it.”

  He looks at the woman sitting on the bed. She is looking down at her fingers, rubbing them excessively.

  “Come to think of it, I think a lot of it was true, actually,” he continues. “The names were changed to make it harder to verify. Clarice was the story of a real woman who was raped and probably murdered during deployment. Laurie was a woman who thought her husband had killed their neighbor and other people from his unit. Frank was also the brother who tried to revenge his sister by killing those involved. But I don’t think he was alone, was he? He had his sister to help him. I think they worked together on this, on revenging the death of their beloved sister.”

  Jonathan is looking at the woman on the bed, waiting for her to start talking. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even look at him.

  “His sister?” Grande says. “You mean Vera?”

  “Yes. Except that isn’t her real name.”

  “But…she died,” Grande says.

  “That’s the part of the story I don’t believe is true,” Jonathan says. “That is why it was left out when Frank confessed to having killed so many people. See, the thing is, you forgot that he needed a motive. You wanted us to believe Vera was dead, so we wouldn’t go looking for her, so we wouldn’t suspect that she is really…you.”

  Grande points at the woman. “But…this is Laurie…right?”

  Jonathan sends her another smile and waits for the dime to drop.

  “Oh. So, she’s not Laurie?”

  “No,” Jonathan says. “She looks like her; they both have red hair, and she could pass for her when looking at her old driver’s license in her purse. But the pants are too big and too long. This is Laurie’s best friend, passing for her, trying to get away with murder by calling it self-defense. See, Vera here, or whatever your real name is, was close to Laurie. Laurie told her everything, down to the smallest detail. It was easy for her to tell us Laurie’s story instead of her own, especially when it’s your secret dream to become an author and coming up with stories is what you are darn good at. See, that was another mistake you made. For someone who never read books, Laurie knew a little too much about famous mystery characters.”

  “So…you’re telling me this is Vera, and she has been telling us the story seen from Laurie’s perspective?” Grande asks.

  “Yes, by pretending to be Laurie, she hoped she could get away with murder. She knew everything there was to know about her best friend—all she had gone through when thinking her husband was a murderer because she shared every detail. This way, she hoped to buy herself enough time to get away, maybe start a new life in Canada or somewhere else. She knew we’d eventually check her story but hoped she could make it away before we did.”

  “Why do you keep mentioning Laurie in the past tense?” Grande says, narrowing her eyes.

  Jonathan nods and bites his lip. “Because I think she’s dead. Isn’t it true?”

  He looks at the woman in front of them. She’s still not talking. He’s trying not to get himself worked up or raise his voice at her, even though that’s what he wants to do. He needs her to start talking soon.

  “I think if we take an extra look up at that cabin, we’ll find her body, am I not right? But it must be well-hidden for the technicians to have missed it. What did you do with her body? Bury it?”

  He can tell he’s getting to her now. Her nostrils are flaring, and she’s shifting on the bed like she can’t sit still properly.

  “What did you do with Laurie’s body!” he says, finally raising his voice and giving in to his temper.

  She’s looking at her feet now when a tear escapes her eye. Then, she nods. “There’s…an old swing in the backyard by the big magnolia tree. I buried her behind that. I covered it up by placing a couple of rocks on top of it. She’s not buried very deep. I didn’t have much time.”

  Jonathan exchanges a look with Grande, who rises to her feet with her phone in her hand. She calls someone, and Jonathan listens to her to give them instructions before she hangs up.

  “They’re on their way,” she says, then returns.

  Finally, the woman looks up, and her eyes meet Jonathan’s. He sees honesty and vulnerability in them that he hasn’t seen any other day when hearing her tell the story. This is the real deal; this is her: no façade, no more acting, no more lying.

  “I didn’t kill her, though,” she says in almost a whisper.

  “So, who did?” Jonathan asks. “Tell us who killed Laurie.”

  She exhales, her hands shaking. “Laurie went to the cabin with Frank, whose real name is Stephen Wilkerson. And he is…was my brother.”

  “And he’s the one whose body we found in the river, right?” Grande says.

  “Yes,” she says. “He was shot twice.”

  “By Ryan Davis, right?” Jonathan says.

  “Yes. That part was true. Laurie figured out what Stephen, or Frank, had been up to, and he tried to get rid of her, but Ryan came to her rescue. He shot my brother twice and then threw the body in the river.”

  “And you know this because…where were you at this time?” Grande asks.

  “I was watching Ryan. I followed him as he drove up there to face Stephen.”

  “You were supposed to have killed him while Laurie and Stephen were at the cabin, am I right? You and your brother planned it that way, but then he suddenly drove off toward the mountains, and you couldn’t get to him till he was up there.”

  “It wasn’t supposed to happen,” she says. “Stephen was supposed to take Laurie away, so she wouldn’t suspect anything. It was supposed to look like suicide. I couldn’t have foreseen what would happen. I tried to call Stephen once I realized where Ryan was going, but he didn’t pick up his phone. Ryan watched them from outside at night, and then the next day, he burst inside and shot Stephen. I should just have killed him when he walked back to his car, but I hesitated. I didn’t want it to happen here. I didn’t want Laurie to find out.”

  “And then what happened once your brother was killed?” Jonathan asks.

  “I watched Ryan as he got rid of the body and threw it in the river. And then he attacked Laurie. I saw it happen while standing outside on the porch, looking in. I was determined to kill Ryan after what he did to Stephen. I was so destroyed with grief; I just wanted him to hurt. I walked in there as he was fighting Laurie. When he saw me, he laughed. Just flat out laughed at me, even though I was holding a gun to his face. He attacked me out of the blue and got the gun twisted out of my hand while we were wrestling on the floor. Laurie was screaming, trying to help me, but he slapped her, so she slid across the floor. As soon as he had the gun, he picked up the phone and made the call to dispatch. As soon as he hung up, I saw him look at Laurie, and I knew it was too late. Before I could run to her, he had shot her. I screamed and ran to her lifeless body, but it was too late. She was gone. And that was when he came for me. I stormed outside through the sliding doors and onto the porch. The rest, you know. He chased me out to the edge and was washed down by a mudslide. And that’s how you found him. I then walked back to the cabin. I took Laurie’s phone and ID from her purse, then buried her in the backyard. I then walked back into the living room, grabbed the gun, and shot myself in the shoulder to make sure you wouldn’t doubt my story of self-defense. Then, I waited. It took hours from when the call was placed until the police arrived, probably because of the muddy and dangerous roads.”

  The woman claps her hands together with an air of finality. “That’s it. That’s my story. The real one.”

  “And I believe this is the real one. There is only one thing you haven’t revealed to us yet,” Jonathan says.

  “What’s that?”

  He smiles. “Your real name.”

  She scoffs and looks down at her feet. “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot about that one. It�
�s Dolores. Dolores Claiborne Wilkinson. My mother had a thing for Stephen King’s books. My brother, she named after the author himself. We had a dog named Cujo, and my sister, the one who died in Afghanistan, is named Carrie. As a child, I read Dolores Claiborne over and over again. I always wanted to write a story like it.”

  “And in a way, you did,” Jonathan says with a scoff. He looks at Grande, who nods. She grabs a set of handcuffs from her belt, then walks up to the woman. She turns her around, then cuffs her while reading her rights.

  Chapter 58

  Jonathan drives up in front of the diner and gets out. Just as he steps onto the pavement, a voice comes up behind him, calling out his name. He turns to look at Detective Grande. She walks up to him. It’s spring now in Bryson City and warming up pretty fast. It’s gorgeous now with all the wildflowers and trees blooming and the snow completely gone, along with the mudslides and long days of rain. Jonathan can hear a bird chirping in the distance, and the air is so fresh, he takes a deep breath just to feel it in his lungs. When you grow up in Florida, you never feel air like this. That’s why he moved away when he grew older and went to Virginia, where he later joined the FBI. Well, that’s part of it.

  Now, that time is almost over, and a new life is about to begin. He thinks about this while glancing down briefly at the listing in his hand.

  “I’m glad I caught you,” Grande says.

  “Well, I’m glad you did too,” he says. “Looking delightful, as always. Is that a glow I detect? Are you…are you expecting?”

  She blushes. “How did you know?”

  “I’ve seen it before.”

  She chuckles and touches her stomach gently. “We’re not telling people yet.”

  “Oh, no. Too early for that,” he says.

  “I can’t stop thinking about Dolores, though. Having a baby while in jail can’t be easy.”

  “She’ll have to give it up,” he says. “She has confessed to helping her brother murder three people. She’s going away for a long time. Did she ever say who the father is?”

  “She did. And it’s not pretty. She was raped on base. She never saw their faces because they were wearing ski masks. Once it happened, she went to her brother, and that’s when they decided to start taking matters into their own hands. They went to Sandra first, to get her to give them all the names of the people who had been involved in Clarice’s murder.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t even want to keep the baby then. But it makes more sense when thinking about what she and her brother did afterward.”

  “The ME examined Laurie’s body after we dug it out of the dirt behind the cabin. She wasn’t pregnant at the time of death,” Grande says.

  “No, Dolores just made that a part of the story because she knew we’d find out somehow, either because we were told by the doctors or could see it in the papers. She left no stone unturned. Clever.”

  “Almost got away with it too. I have to say; I could never have figured all this out alone. I sure am glad I had you here to help me. She had me completely fooled at the end. I was so certain of her innocence. But I feel terrible for those children back in Florida. Lost both of their parents, just like that. They’re staying with their grandparents, but who knows what this will do to them once they learn the truth.”

  Jonathan exhales. “Makes me kind of happy this is my last case.”

  “Really? You’re retiring?”

  He shrugs. “I have to—turning fifty-seven in a month. It’s time to go. But to be honest, I’m beginning to look forward to what’s next.”

  “That is wonderful. So, what is next? Now that we’re done here, I expect you’re heading home?”

  That brings a huge smile to Jonathan’s lips. “As a matter of fact, I’m thinking about sticking around for a little while.”

  He lifts the hand holding the papers with active listings of cabins for sale in and around Bryson City, just as Joanne comes out of the diner, putting on her jacket on top of her uniform. She leans over and kisses him on the cheek.

  “I thought they’d never let me go. You ready?”

  He smiles even wider and kisses her cheek as well. “Never been more ready in my life.”

  They walk to his car, and he holds the door for Joanne, then turns around and winks at his new favorite detective.

  “See you around, Grande. You be careful out there.”

  She salutes him as he gets into the driver’s seat, turns the engine over, and waves as they take off.

  THE END

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for purchasing Sorry Can’t Save You. This book is fiction, and many of the places are fictional as well. The Air Force bases both in Florida and Afghanistan don’t exist. Neither does Dundee Beach. It bears some resemblance to my hometown, Cocoa Beach, but since the topic in this book is so controversial, I wanted to keep it in the world of fiction.

  What isn’t fiction is actually the theme. I got the idea for this book when I came across several stories of women being raped in the Air Force and parents who doubted the explanation of what happened to them that they got from the military. There are quite a lot actually, and the numbers in my book are taken from the real world. One in three women who enlists is actually sexually assaulted or raped by men in the military. There are numerous stories of women coming home in caskets and their death being under suspicious circumstances. You can read more about them by following these links. The first one is the inspiration for Clarice’s story.

  https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/middle-east/us-interpreter-who-witnessed-torture-in-iraq-shot-herself-with-service-rifle-1674399.html

  https://thesource.com/2014/01/21/justice-for-lavena-johnson-raped-murdered-or-suicide-the-evidence-says-one-thing-u-s-military-says-another/

  https://www.commondreams.org/views/2008/04/28/there-army-cover-rape-and-murder-women-soldiers

  The rate of suicides in the military isn’t fictional, either. Since 2008, more than 60,000 U.S. veterans have taken their own lives. In ten years, more died by committing suicide than during the entire Vietnam War.

  https://www.mentalhealth.va.gov/suicide_prevention/data.asp

  https://allthatsinteresting.com/veteran-suicide

  Finally, I want to thank the women living on base who helped me bring this book to life, providing me with details into the life on base that I have no way of knowing. You know who you are.

  Thanks again for reading, and don’t forget to leave a review if you can. It means so much to me.

  Take care,

  Willow Rose

  DON’T LIE TO ME

  Excerpt

  For a special sneak peak of Willow Rose's Bestselling Mystery Novel DON’T LIE TO ME turn to the next page.

  Prologue

  Camp Seminole Springs, Florida

  Prologue

  "Mom. I don't want to stay at the camp for two weeks. I want to go home."

  Sophie Williams choked back a sob as a tear left her right eye and rolled down her cheek. She had promised herself she wouldn't cry. She had promised herself she would complete this. But hearing her mother's voice on the phone had made her lose it. She couldn't hold it back anymore.

  "I know, sweetie," her mother said. "I miss you too, baby. But it’s only for two weeks. You'll be fine."

  It was the first time Sophie had been away from her mother for this long. She was the one who had wanted to go when their scout leader had told them about the camp. Sophie had immediately known that she wanted to do this. But the other girls had been so mean on the bus ride there, and she had ended up sitting all alone without anyone to talk to. Now she felt lonely and, even though they weren't allowed to call home, she had snuck outside while they were eating dinner and walked back to her tent and found her phone in her backpack. She wanted to hear her mother's voice, just for a few seconds. But once she did, the tears piled up, and she felt so homesick it almost hurt.

  "You'll be fine," her mother repeated. "It'll be over before you know it, and then you'll want to go again next
year. I went through the same thing when I was your age."

  "I'd much rather be at home and go surfing all summer," Sophie said.

  "I know, baby, but you need to do other stuff too. You need to socialize with other children. Besides, you were the one who told me you wanted this, remember? You wanted to go to this camp with your new friends."