by Stacy Green
Lennox already had his people searching for Alan Kent in Pennsylvania, combing hospital, tax, property, and whatever records they could dig up. He’d relayed the news about Alan serving in Korea to Ryan as he drove one-handed, barking orders into his phone, while I struggled to figure out what bothered me most about recent events.
“What is it?” He tossed the phone on the dash and glanced at me. “Something’s eating at you.”
What could I say? That I actually felt remorse and couldn’t handle watching a loved one grieve? That my brain felt on the verge of exploding with guilt and self-awareness?
“Why did she kill Lionel?”
“She didn’t need him anymore.”
“But it’s a mistake,” I said. “Because his death is going to be noticed. And it’s brought us to his mother. Now you’ve got a possible lead. She’s got to have known that would happen. It’s not as if she hid the body.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Lennox admitted. “And I don’t have much of an answer. Just a theory.”
“I’m all ears.”
“We know Mary’s a twisted piece. Groomed by her father since she was small. If she witnessed the murder I just asked Margaret about, she was less than ten years old. She didn’t stand a chance, and she and her father spent their lives learning how to be the best at the game they played. But the running, the looking over the shoulder–all of that takes a toll on the mind. Especially when you have a safe period like Mary did.”
“You think she’s just wearing out?”
“It’s possible,” he said. “Everything’s catching up to her. Add a sick father and her long-lost son into the mix, and she’s probably wrecked. How easy do you think Chris would make this for her?”
“What do you mean?” Chris was becoming more and more like a stranger.
“No matter how messed up his head is right now, he’s going to resist for a while, right?” Lennox asked. “He’s going to fight her and question and demand answers. He’s not just going to be all meek and mousy and afraid of her, is he?”
“I can’t answer that,” I said. “A few days ago, I’d have laughed at his going after her at all. There are things about him I didn’t know and I’m wondering…”
“If the Chris you know is real?”
Shamed, I looked down at my cold hands. “Something like that.”
“He might be,” Lennox said. “But no one’s one dimensional. And it’s the other bits and pieces a person’s got to worry about.”
32
Evening had descended by the time we arrived back in Jarrettsville. I dozed during the drive, caught in a semi-lucid state filled with images of Chris bleeding and his mother’s creepy childhood doll wielding a knife. Lennox dropped me off at the hotel and headed to the station where Ryan still poured over newly pulled records.
“I’ll call you if we get a hit,” Lennox said. “Thanks for going with me today.”
I tried to smile, but I’d used up whatever acting skills I still possessed. “I’m not sure I was any help, but I appreciate your letting me tag along.” I got out of the car, my feet slipping on the ice. Cold rushed me, but I needed to say one more thing. “Listen, about your sister. I get it, the need for closure. And it’s a wonderful goal. But you can’t deliver it to everyone, no matter how hard you try.”
“Very true. But I’m not going to let that stop me.”
I waved goodbye and picked my way back to the motel. Kelly jumped up from the bed, her eyes still drowsy from sleep. “How’d it go?”
Exhaustion turned me to jelly, and I collapsed on the bed. “She killed Lionel Kent, and Lennox thinks we’re getting closer. I’m not sure we’ll ever see Chris alive again.”
“You can’t lose hope,” she said. “Not yet.”
I made my head move up and down, but my heart wasn’t in the sentiment. “Do you mind if I just crash for a while?”
“Of course not.” Kelly slipped to the far side of the bed, holding her sleeping bag like a talisman. “But you’re not lying down on that cot. The bed’s big enough for two.”
This time, I didn’t argue with her.
My phone rang somewhere near midnight. For a terrifying second, I didn’t know where the hell I was, panic burning my chest. Then the memories of the days crashed down on me, and I grappled for the cell.
“Yeah?”
“Sorry to wake you.” Lennox sounded positively cheerful. I sat up, rubbing my eyes.
“That’s okay. What’s going on?”
“We’ve got something. You still have that rental?”
I was already out of bed, looking for my keys. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
A sheet of ice, glistening beneath the hotel security lights, covered the parking lot. With midnight closing in, the frigid air seemed to have a life of its own, dense and relentless. It cut through my coat and invaded my bones until they screamed for mercy. I tried to ignore it, instead focusing on the clear night sky. Millions of stars glittered, their brightness making it hard to imagine they were nothing but gas.
The warning surged through me seconds before I heard the footsteps. The little parking lot suddenly seemed miles long, and the silence pressed down on me as though I’d suddenly become the only living person in this small town. Stupid. A few days away from the city, and I’d forgotten every safety precaution. The pepper spray was back in the hotel room, my other weapons buried even deeper. No matter. I could fight.
My rental was parked at the end of the row, beneath a security light that hadn’t fired on. The muscles in my legs jerked with the need to run, but no one had bothered to use any ice melt. Moving any faster would likely result in my landing on my ass. My heavy boots smacked against the frozen pavement. Weapons. I could pack a good kick if I had to.
“Lucy, can I speak with you?”
The fake honey in her voice sent a wave of disgust through me. I whirled, my gloved fingers digging into the palm of my hand. Reporter Beth Ried materialized from behind a big SUV. Wearing dark, warm clothes, she looked like she’d been waiting for the prime opportunity to jump out at me.
“No.”
“Please, I just have a few questions. And you owe me, since you gave me false information. After I helped you and Agent Lennox.” She had the gall to sound offended.
“I don’t have any answers for you.”
“What did John Weston tell you?” Beth ignored my denial. Her breath wafted into the cold air in great white puffs. “Did he give any details about Mary’s involvement in the Lancaster killings? Did he say why he let her get off free and clear while he sat in prison all these years?”
“Are you stupid?” Unlike Lennox or any other cop, I didn’t have to play nice with the media. “I mean, seriously? Is there something wrong with you?”
“I’m just trying to get the story.”
“Why?”
She blinked, still trying to look genuinely surprised. “Because people deserve to know.”
“Bullshit.” I was too tired to dance with her. “You want the story because you want to make a name for yourself. When this is all over, and Mary is caught, then the public has a right to some of the details. Beyond that, every time you stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong, you run the risk of helping her evade authorities. And killing more girls.”
“That’s not true.”
I rolled my eyes, no longer freezing cold but warm to the core. “Don’t you realize going public with the story about John Weston talking to us gives Mary an edge and makes her more cautious? Or did you think she didn’t watch television?”
“I followed the story.”
“You followed your selfish desires.” My head pounded, my face heating as if I’d been running on the treadmill. “People like you are a big part of the problem, hiding behind the First Amendment and screaming about the right to know, but you don’t give a damn about helping anyone but yourselves. You’d endanger someone’s life without thinking twice if it meant you could get a career-making story.”
“That’s not fair,” Beth said. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know enough,” I said. “You’re all the same. Vapid and self-absorbed. As far as I’m concerned, you’re worthless.” I turned to walk away before the rage could burn any brighter. It flowed through my veins and into every nerve ending, making me dizzy and my thoughts hazy, as if I were peering through a gray veil. But the voice of my rage, booming in my head, was crisp. And it wanted to hurt this dumb girl. Slam her down onto the ice until her head hit with a dull smack. She’d be dazed at first, but then I’d slam it down again, and maybe again until she stopped asking her stupid questions and interfering in my life.
I could make it look like a fall. An accident. And then she’s taken care of. Who’s going to miss her?
Margaret Kent’s grief-stricken face assaulted me.
Someone will miss her. Even if she is a bitch.
I bit my tongue and trudged forward.
“What about the friend staying in your room?” Beth tried again. “Would she say the same thing? Or does she have the sense to realize how much the media can help?”
I stopped cold, turning back to face her. “Leave her alone.”
“People are talking about her, you know.” Beth’s voice told me she knew she’d hit a nerve. “I found out she contracts for the Philadelphia police. And that she’s been through some real hell in her life.”
My vision clouded. I saw nothing but anger and Kelly’s face–not the one she presented to the world now, but of the abused child. An eye swollen shut, half her face the color of a ripe eggplant. A dislocated shoulder. Lighter burns. A ruined womb. All those details had been filed away, carefully protected by the state because of her age.
But now she was free game–a friend of someone a fame-hungry reporter had deemed newsworthy. Kelly wasn’t going to get hurt again because of me.
Beth smirked, the wisps of her hair sticking out from her hat fluttering in the wind. “My contact with Child Protective Services told me some really interesting things about Kelly. You were the social worker who discovered her chained up in that basement room, right? What was that like? Is that the first time you thought about going rogue?”
“Going rogue?” My quiet voice should have warned her. “What are you talking about?”
Her smile widened to Cheshire Cat levels. “You know cops gossip, right? Rumor is, some people think you’ve taken the law into your own hands, and more than once. If you’re really killing pedophiles, more power to you. But given your work on the sex trafficking case, you had some kind of help. And since Kelly is the computer geek, according to my source, I’m thinking it’s her.”
My heart blasted in my ears. The cold air no longer pierced my skin; in fact, my body felt heated from the inside out. My fingers dove into my pocket. Too late, I realized it was empty.
“What would Kelly say if I asked her about that?” Beth said. “Does she know anything about this Preacher, whose body was just found in the Allegheny National Forest?”
“Stay away from Kelly.”
I’m going to kill you.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that. Whether you like it or not, the First Amendment gives me the right to ask as many questions as I’d like.”
I closed the distance between us, forgetting about the ice and the cold and whatever future I’d been hoping I could still have. This girl was thin and cocky. Weak. Forget banging her head on the ice. I could strangle her with my own two hands, physical evidence be damned. I didn’t think about the parking lot having security cameras, or what I’d have to do after she was dead. My mind was too full imagining the pure fear on her face when my hands closed around her throat, and I slowly strangled the life out of her.
Beth backed up until she smacked against the vehicle she’d been hiding behind. Now we were nose-to-nose, although I had several inches on her. Our breaths gusted together like white ghosts tangled in battle. My fingers twitched, my hands coming up as far as my chest. My muscles tightened, braced for her to struggle.
“What are you doing?”
I don’t know if it was the fear in her voice or the sudden ruffle of cold wind that stopped me. One second I was raising my hands to strangle her, and the next I jammed them back into my pockets.
“Listen to me.” I pitched my voice low, but it still seemed to boom over the wind. “I don’t like threats. And I don’t play games. If you bother Kelly in any way, I promise you will live to regret it.”
“Is that a threat?” Her eyes danced.
“Take it as you will,” I said. “But remember that while you’re chasing stories and trying to put together pretty words to make people understand what happened, I’ve already been there. I’ve seen the abuse and pain and death in a person. I know what it feels like to see a child who has been used and thrown away. I’ve smelled it. Tasted it. I’ve watched dead kids being brought out of homes. Listened to parents lie even as their stinking sweat gave them away. All the horrors you’re playing house with, I’ve experienced. And that makes people a little crazy. Fearless.”
She swallowed. Her eyes reminded me of Brian Harrison’s in the parking garage that night, when he’d realized he’d been trapped by the very worst kind of nightmare. Did she see the truth of who I was in my eyes? Whether she realized it or not, some part of her subconscious must be warning her a predator was here.
Run and hide, stupid girl.
“Remember that the next time you try to sneak up on me in the middle of the night.” I paused, giving her time to think. “And if you do anything that bothers Kelly in any way, we’ll have another talk. And I won’t be so conversational the next time.”
I walked to my rental with a slow confidence, shoulders drawn back. Beth Ried should thank me for saving her life.
33
My head still buzzed from the altercation with Beth.
No, not from the altercation, but from her reaction. Her fear. The way it rolled off her in waves, like too much perfume. But instead of choking on the smell, my entire body reacted to it. I wanted more. I wanted her shaking and crying, with tears and snot streaking her makeup, her false beauty stripped along with her confidence. I wanted her to beg for mercy, to realize that her life was in my hands.
I whipped into the police station’s parking lot and nearly rolled the rental car over the curb. It slammed the block of cement, shooting me forward and snapping me out of my freakish high. “Jesus.” I sucked hard for air, my esophagus stinging as though I’d been running in the frigid weather. My muscles ached, drained of adrenaline almost as fast as they’d taken it in. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
The words homicidal maniac flirted on the edge of my thoughts. I snapped my head back and forth, as if that might force the idea out of my ears. But it clung stubbornly to the synapses of my brain, weaving its way through the cells with the speed of a deadly virus.
I dragged myself out of the car, trying to focus on the task at hand. The front desk officer looked at me warily, leaning back in her chair as though I might be contagious. I hadn’t thought to check myself in the mirror. Too late for that now.
The energy from our conference room steamed into the hall in great, rolling waves. Everything seemed hyper-focused, from the plants in the hallway to the various pictures and plaques on the walls. Even the emergency exits map looked brighter than it had yesterday, the red escape routes the color of fresh blood.
“What took you so long?” Lennox stood at the head of the table, his dress shirt wrinkled and his sleeves rolled up. Ryan manned his laptop, a cup of coffee in his hand. Two officers I didn’t know were busy doing something with the map.
“Ran into Beth Ried.”
Lennox’s eyes narrowed. “Where?”
“In the motel parking lot. She wanted to know what Weston told me.”
“What did you say?”
I dropped my bag on the table and braced my hands on the back of one of the chairs. “I told her to go to hell, more or less. What’s going
on?”
“Alan Kent’s military paper trail, that’s what.” Lennox’s eyes gleamed. “He served in Korea with the United States Army 121st Transportation Truck Company. He was stationed at Unjungbu from December 1950 until May 1952.”
“So that’s where he learned to drive a truck,” I said. Had we finally caught a real break? “Anything in his military record?”
“Nothing dishonorable,” Lennox said. “He was discharged two months early because of severe pneumonia. According to his records, he and his crew broke down and were stranded overnight. He developed pneumonia after that. But that’s not what really stands out. Like we thought, he lied about his age and entered the Army at sixteen. By the next winter, he was in Korea.”
“I’m sorry, but my military history is sketchy. Why is that relevant?”
Lennox nearly leaped around the room. “Because of his benefits. The winter of 1950-’51 in Korea was brutal on troops, and cold weather accounted for a huge number of casualties and evacuations. A lot of times, those guys weren’t able to get care for their injuries because of battlefield conditions. Alan Kent got sick twice–the first being in January, shortly after he arrived. As far as we can tell, he stuck it out and stayed on the front lines.”
“Then how do you know he was sick at all?” I asked. “There wouldn’t be a record if he wasn’t treated.”
Lennox looked at Ryan, smiling with the pride of a new father. “Because this guy is aces at his job. Korean War veterans who experienced cold injuries are now dealing with medical conditions because of that very winter. We’re talking diabetes and vascular disease, arthritis, cold sensitization. The list goes on. Because of that, they’re eligible for a wider variety of benefits in addition to the regular military benefits.”
“Alan couldn’t lie about his name if he wanted to collect,” Ryan said. “And he did. So once we found out he was in the service, tracking him got a lot easier.”
I sat down, heart racing to the same beat of Lennox’s silly pacing. I felt it now–the adrenaline rush that blooms when a case was breaking wide open.