“There’s Colin, Clarice’s friend who wants to find his big break into show business. He did come forward with his video. Again, I think he’s a case of someone with bad judgment. I don’t think he’s a killer.”
“From what I understand, he’s been under police surveillance. There’s no way he could have snatched Rose.”
“Then there’s Stephen Alexander. Last person, other than Sharon, to be seen with Clarice.”
“Maybe we’ll get some answers when we look through his trash tonight.”
“A person’s trash can say a lot about a person. That’s what Tim would say.” I’d scoffed at his Yogi Berra-like phrases, but he had a point.
We both leaned back, lost in thought.
Riley pointed to a sign hanging in the window beside us. “Zombie Fest?”
I nodded. “Clarice was really excited about that.”
My heart sank when I remembered it. Even if the woman had set me up and secretly recorded me, I didn’t want her to suffer. I wished more than anything she could be here to enjoy Zombie Fest. I wished she was around to tell me how much she’d enjoyed it, even if it meant I’d want to throw something at her.
Riley and I finished eating, each of our thoughts obviously heavy. Any attempts at conversations about anything other than Milton Jones seemed to fall flat.
Finally, I looked at Riley. “You think the dentist office is closed yet?”
He glanced at his watch. “It’s past six. I’d imagine they’re either closed or will be closing any time.”
“Let’s go get Tim, then.”
CHAPTER 25
I stood outside the dumpster while Tim rummaged around inside the smelly metal container. Riley had to take a call from a client, so he paced in front of the building, promising to alert us if anyone came our way. The sun was beginning to set and sink lower into the sky as we began our mission.
Luckily, most of the shops in this area were professional, so they’d closed up rather early. That made our job easier.
It wasn’t that I was opposed to jumping into a dumpster myself—I mean, I did clean up blood and other bodily fluids for a living. It was just that Tim was so good at digging through trash. And someone needed to go through the items that he tossed onto the ground. That seemed like a good job for me.
Even though this dumpster catered to an office building, the stench that crept from it was nauseating, like it had seen one too many rotting bags of food scraps. From what Tim had told me, some locals must take to dropping bags of dog doo into this dumpster after they took their evening walks as well.
Tim stood up. “I found something.”
I hurried to the side of the dumpster and tried to peer in. I was a little too short to see inside.
He raised his hand in the air. “A free toothbrush. The wrapper is still on it and everything, so it’s clean. Can you believe people would throw away a perfectly good toothbrush? I bet it was someone who got one of these for free after getting their teeth cleaned. They probably have some fancy one at home, so they just tossed this on their way out. Can you believe the nerve of some people?”
“A toothbrush, Tim? I thought you’d found something good.” I wanted to scream at my brother sometimes. But then I remembered what it was like to have him gone from my life, and I was filled with gratitude, despite his quirks.
He shrugged. “This is good . . . to me, at least. I just stopped a perfectly useable product from entering the landfill.”
“I need clues, Tim. Not clean teeth.” Too bad he hadn’t been all that concerned about using a toothbrush since he’d been staying at Riley’s. We’d been the ones who had to endure his morning breath, and it hadn’t been pretty.
“All right, all right. If I find any more, I’m donating them to the homeless shelter down the street, just for the record.” He glanced down at the trash around him. “It would help if I knew what I was looking for.”
What was he looking for? Even I didn’t know for sure. I just knew that I’d know when I saw it. “Pictures. Cell phone records. Written admissions of guilt.”
Tim popped his head up. “Really? You think it’s that easy?”
“Of course not.” I sighed. “I’m grasping at straws here, aren’t I?”
Riley slid his cellphone back into his pocket and approached us, just to hear the last part of our conversation. “Dr. Alexander was the last person, other than Sharon, who had contact with Clarice,” Riley said. “He’s worth looking into. He may not be guilty of anything other than being unfaithful to his girlfriend, though.”
Was there anyone I was missing? Of course there was. For all I knew, I’d never even seen this accomplice.
We knew that someone had mailed Jones items to his jail cell. That’s how he’d ended up with the article about me. It would seem logical that he had someone helping him.
But all that mattered was that we found either Milton Jones or someone else who could lead us to him.
Suddenly, a bag landed beside me.
“Look through that,” Tim yelled.
I ignored some kind of greenish-yellow gel that covered the outside of the plastic bag. “Sure thing.” I snapped on some gloves and pulled the plastic apart. Riley squatted beside me to help.
Inside, there were papers. Some were shredded. Others were flyers and junk mail. It looked like someone had cleaned out their desk.
I riffled through a lot of it but found nothing useful. Just as I finished that bag, Tim threw another bag out.
“Try this one, too,” he yelled. “It’s too hard to look through bags like that while I’m in the dumpster.”
The truth was, he’d probably rather be looking for things he could either use or things he could sell to make a few extra bucks. My family was so interesting. A crime scene cleaner. A freegan. A washed up surfing champion turned alcoholic.
Did Riley really know what he was getting himself into when he married me?
I wasn’t about to tell him. Not that I thought he’d change his mind. Sometimes, it was better to keep these thoughts quiet, though.
I dug through a lot of the same information that I’d found in the other bag, which wasn’t very much.
I stopped when I saw one stray piece of paper. The words there made me pause.
You can use the family hunting cabin whenever you need it. State Road 172, Surry, Virginia. Love, Dad.
A hunting cabin? Could this be where Milton Jones was keeping his victims?
There was only one way to find out.
***
“Should we call Adams?” I asked as we bumped down the road.
Riley shook his head, his neck looking tight and stiff. “We’re just following a hunch. I say we call him if we discover anything. This could be nothing.”
“Or it could be everything.”
Riley nodded, his hands tight on the steering wheel and his knuckles white. “If Milton Jones is there . . .”
I reached into my purse. “I have this.” I pulled out my gun.
Riley’s eyes widened. “Put that down before another driver sees you and calls the police! You’re carrying it with you? You don’t have a permit.”
“There are some things that are bigger than a permit. Like my life.”
Riley shook his head. “I agree, but . . .”
I held up my free hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.” I put the gun back in my purse. Truth was, I felt a little weird about carrying it.
But then I remembered those crime scene photos and I thought about what Milton Jones had done to his victims, and I forgot any of my hesitations.
The stench in the car after Tim had been in the dumpster was nearly unbearable. Even though the heat was stifling outside, I still cracked my window. Tim, in the meantime, was sleeping in the backseat.
Apparently, he and my father snored.
The drive to Surry County would take at least an hour. The sky was now gray, and by the time we arrived at the cabin, it would be dark.
I knew that going out there alo
ne had all the warning signs of being a bad idea. But I also knew that sending the police out there based on a scrap of paper would be foolish. They had better things to do right now. Still, a shudder raced up my spine.
The car made a weird sound and thumped a couple of times as we sped down the interstate. It was an old Ford Taurus, probably nice in its day. But right now the blue car was on the verge of not passing inspection.
Someone at church had been thinking about selling it, and when they found out Riley was carless after the accident last week, they volunteered to let him use it. The paint was faded. The plastic covering the steering wheel peeled. The seats were stained—being a crime scene cleaner, my mind went to the worst places concerning what exactly those stains had come from. No, I’d seen too much to simply think “spilled soda.”
And those were just the physical aesthetics that were unappealing.
The car also made a strange noise when you turned left, the engine some times groaned, and the windshield wipers mysteriously turned on and off without anyone ever touching a button.
Right now, as we rattled down the road, I wished we’d stopped back by my apartment to get my van. I wasn’t sure this vehicle would make it.
We traveled off of the interstate, on some smaller highways, through a couple of small towns, and finally headed down a rural road surrounded by trees. Outside, the light became dimmer and dimmer. Darkness was close.
The thought chilled me as I realized its double meaning. We truly could be approaching one of the darkest people and crimes I’d ever been involved in. The thought was unsettling.
I lifted up a quick prayer that God would keep us safe.
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.
The Scripture ran through my mind. I repeated it over and over.
For the Lord my God is with me.
He could do much more than any gun could. He’d proven that time and time again in my life. And I felt like the most undeserving person ever when it came to God’s protection. I was thankful He didn’t give me what I deserved, but that He showered His love on me.
I looked at the GPS on my phone. “Turn right here.”
We veered off one narrow road and onto another. The trees closed in closer to the car. The sun sank deeper into the horizon.
Out here, there was mostly woods, so it was the perfect place for a hunting cabin.
“This is like the area where he kept the girls in California,” Riley said quietly. His jaw looked locked in place and his neck muscles tight. This case had obviously affected him in a big way.
“What do you mean?”
“It was in the middle of nowhere, well off the beaten path. Woods had surrounded it. If one of the girls had been able to break free, there was only a slim chance that she would have survived running through the woods to get help. There was too much space between the cabin and the rest of the world.”
I could sense this was hard for him to talk about. “Did you go to the cabin?”
“Once. I wanted to get a feel for what had happened there.”
“What was it like?”
He shook his head. “It was horrible. What happened between those walls, although it was over and done with, still seemed to fill the air in the room, if you know what I mean.”
I nodded. It wasn’t like Riley to talk about things in the abstract. He liked relying on facts.
That being said, the realization that he was talking about something other than the facts spoke volumes.
“I don’t believe that places can be haunted,” he continued. “But I definitely felt like something malevolent had happened there.”
His words left a sick feeling in my gut. We should have definitely called Detective Adams. Maybe this whole case was beyond my scope.
I pointed to another road. “We have two more turns before we get there. This one is next.”
“I’m going to cut my headlights. Just in case this is the right place, I don’t want to alert anyone that we’re here. Do you still have a phone signal out here?”
I checked my screen. “I sure do.”
“Good. We have to be careful.”
We rolled down the gravel road labeled “Private.” With each inch closer, my muscles tightened. Whenever we did find Milton Jones, I feared we were going to need the protection of an angel army, as the song we sang at church said.
I remembered what Riley had said. When I looked into his eyes, it was like looking into pure evil. The man was soulless.
“I see some lights over there.” I pointed through the trees, down toward the end of the lane.
Sure enough, the faintest trickle of light could be seen through the trees. Riley pulled to the side of the road and cut the engine. “We should walk from here,” Riley said.
I couldn’t agree more.
“Do you want me to look through his trash can for you? You can tell a lot by—” Tim appeared in the backseat, like Lazarus raised from the dead. How long had he been awake?
“—what a person throws away,” I finished. I shook my head. “No rummaging through garbage now, but I will give you my phone. Come with us, but stay back on the outskirts of the property. If anything happens, you have to call the police. If this is Milton Jones, he won’t suspect that you’re here with us.”
“There are advantages to being a third wheel.”
I sent him a small smile. “You’re always welcome, Tim. Always.”
I actually got a grin back from him. “Thanks, big sis. That means a lot.”
Our relationship was slowly developing. I’d take slowly developing to nothing, though.
I tucked the gun into the waistband of my jeans and stepped out of the car. Riley and Tim joined me.
Darkness was on us at full force. Out here in the country, the darkness was different than in the city. It was blacker, heavier.
The woods were alive with crickets and owls and other creatures that made leaves crackle and branches shake.
I was thankful that Riley reached for my hand. “You’re trembling,” he whispered.
I was hoping he wouldn’t notice.
I didn’t say anything. What was there to say? Yes, I’m terrified. This man gives me nightmares.
I couldn’t think like that. I had to keep focused on finding Clarice and Rose.
We reached the edge of the woods. A log cabin stood in the distance, a white car parked beside it. A white sedan.
Stephen Alexander’s sedan.
Possibly the one I’d seen Milton Jones pull away in.
My heart pounded against my rib cage. This was it. The moment of truth.
Part of me desperately wanted this to be Milton Jones’ lair. I wanted to find Nichole and Clarice and Rose and save them.
The other part of me wanted to be safe.
Of course, I rarely choose the safe courses in my life.
“What now?” Tim asked.
I pulled out my phone and slapped it in his hand. “Here you go. You could be our lifeline here.” I still had some doubts about my brother’s level of responsibility. Certainly he wouldn’t let us down in a life or death circumstance, though . . . would he?
Just then, a scream cut through the silence.
A woman’s scream.
Coming from the cabin.
CHAPTER 26
“Do you want me to call now?” Tim held up the phone.
“Yes, find Detective Adam’s number in my phone book and tell him where we are,” I told him.
“You should wait here with Tim,” Riley told me.
I pulled my gun out. “Not on your life.” I really hoped I didn’t have to use this thing. But if I had to, I would.
Riley and I stayed low as we hurried toward the cabin. All the windows were lit, and I could see movement inside. Adrenaline honed my senses, making me feel alert and sharp.
We reached the wall of the cabin. Riley ducked low so he was on one side of the window, and I was on the other. He motioned to me before slowly creeping up
ward and peering into the house.
“Stephen Alexander is here. That’s definite,” he whispered.
I slid up the wall so I could get a better look. I spotted a woman cowering in the corner of the room.
I blinked. It wasn’t Nichole or Clarice or Rose, however. This wasn’t even the girlfriend I’d seen in the pictures at the office.
No, this was a woman with long, blonde hair. She was young, and she looked terrified.
“What did I tell you about this, Angela?” Stephen Alexander screamed from inside. “You’re only making this worse for yourself.”
“Please, I just want to go home,” she whimpered.
Riley nodded toward the front door. I ducked low again and made my way there. We couldn’t wait for Adams to arrive. This woman might be dead before that happened.
“You women are all alike,” Stephen mumbled.
The woman screamed again.
Riley and I crept onto the porch. His steps were steady but soft as he went to the front door. Slowly, he reached for the knob and turned.
It was unlocked.
I raised my gun, ignoring my fear as I pictured Nichole, Clarice and Rose in the recesses of this place, hurting and in desperate need of help.
On the count of three, Riley threw open the door. We both rushed inside.
“What in the—” Stephen Alexander turned toward us, fire blazing in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“Let the girl go,” Riley mumbled.
Stephen pointed to the woman in the corner, an incredulous look on his face. “Her? It’s not a crime to cheat on your girlfriend.”
I aimed my gun at him. “Don’t make him repeat himself.”
He held up his hands, as if pleading with me. “I think you’re misunderstanding.”
The woman screamed again. “There it is. Get it. Get it!”
What?
“The police are on their way,” I explained.
The woman, Angela I assumed, looked at me with startled eyes from the corner of the room. “The police?”
“We know you’re helping the Scum River Killer,” I told Stephen.
“The Scum River Killer?” He started to lower his hands when I nudged my gun his way again. He raised his arms higher. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The Scum of All Fears: Squeaky Clean Mysteries, Book 5 Page 14