Killing Dreams: A Sam Mason Mystery Book 5

by L A Dobbs

  “Hey, buddy.” Mick clapped Sam on the back. The two had been friends since kindergarten, and Jo envied the relationship. She didn’t have anyone she was that close to unless you counted her goldfish, Finn, and she’d only had him less than a year. Even Bridget was nearly a stranger. Jo resisted the urge to take her phone out. Bridget still hadn’t replied to her text.

  Billie rushed over. Mick was one of her favorite customers, and she already had a crystal tumbler filled with ice cubes in hand before Mick could order his usual whiskey on the rocks.

  “I did a little research after you texted.” Mick pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it on the bar in front of them. “Do you have any new leads?”

  Sam shook his head. They often used Mick to track leads that they couldn’t follow through official channels. As a result, he was privy to a lot of their investigations. Because they’d been friends since kindergarten, Mick had Sam’s full trust and, by extension, also Jo’s.

  “What did you find out?” Jo asked.

  Mick turned his drink between his hands, the amber liquid swirling. “Serial killers are an interesting breed. Most of them have no remorse. And sometimes it can start young.”

  “Did you find anything that might indicate Thorne could be one of these killers?” Sam asked. “I mean, he’s been living here for a while and we haven’t had any other killings here, unless there are more bodies we haven’t found. If it is Thorne, what has he been doing all this time?”

  “Sometimes they can be dormant for years and then all of a sudden they start another killing spree,” Mick said. “Maybe Thorne has been dormant. He hasn’t lived here his whole life, right?”

  “I think he moved here when he married Beryl. Did you find anything unsettling in his background? Maybe some unsolved murders where he lived before he met Beryl?”

  “No, but I’ll dig into his childhood. Serial killers often manifest killing behavior when they are young. They start with torturing animals or act out in other ways.” Mick said. “This was only preliminary research. Don’t worry, I’ll dig deeper.”

  “Great. See if he had any ties to the runaways. One of them has been identified. Her name was Arlene Cross. She was from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.”

  Mick wrote the name on the paper. “Let me know when they identify the others. I can cross-reference locations to see if Thorne was in any of those towns.”

  “Can’t hurt, but if this is tied into the abandoned cabin, my bet is that Thorne, or whoever the serial killer is, preyed on the runaways after they’d been on the street for a while,” Jo said.

  Sam took a swig of beer. “Probably. But no harm in checking everything. I don’t dare focus on him too much through police channels. Holden Joyce is already on our case about it.”

  Mick made a face. “You mean that FBI guy that was such a pain before?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “He’s involved in this too? Don’t you think it’s weird that he keeps showing up on your cases?” Mick chugged his drink, sending the ice cubes clinking together.

  “I’ll say.” Sam’s glanced in Jo’s direction, making her feel uneasy.

  Did he think Holden Joyce’s presence had something to do with her? She doubted that. She had no link to him, so there was no reason for Sam to think so.

  She sipped her beer as Mick told them what he’d learned about serial killer behavior. Jo already knew everything he told them and more, but she didn’t want to show off her knowledge. She didn’t want anyone to question why she’d become such an expert.

  Not that she intended to hide it when it came to investigating. She’d make sure she applied everything she knew to help with the case, just not in an obvious way. Maybe she hadn’t been able to use that knowledge to get justice for her sister, but she sure as hell was going to use it to get justice for the victims in the shallow graves.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The little orange cat was on Jo’s porch when she got home around eight that night. The sun had just set, causing the late-summer blooms to release their perfume and turning everything shades of blue and gray. The full moon peeked over the tops of the pines, crickets chirped loudly, and fireflies danced at the edge of the forest.

  The cat didn’t run away as she walked up the steps. It just sat there, its gaze shifting pointedly from Jo to the food bowl and then back again. Progress.

  Jo crouched down, holding her hand out toward the cat. “Hi, kitty.” The cat sniffed in her direction and looked at the bowl again, but kept far enough away so Jo couldn’t pet it. Its orange-ringed tail swished uneasily in the air.

  “Okay, I guess you’re trying to send me the message that you want some food huh?”

  Jo brought the dirty cat bowl inside to the sink and took out another small bowl. It was from a set of little antique dessert bowls she’d bought at a flea market. She’d thought the opalescent ringed bowls were pretty, but when would she ever use them? They were the perfect size for the cat, and she might as well put them to good use. She filled it with Fancy Feast and brought it outside to the porch, sat in the rocker and waited.

  The cat approached and sniffed cautiously for a few seconds before digging in.

  Jo sat for a while, letting the cat eat. She didn’t want to be too aggressive. After a few minutes the cat came over, sniffed her hand, and let Jo scratch it behind the ears. It still seemed skittish, as if any sudden movement or loud noise would make it bolt.

  “Good kitty. Hopefully by winter you’ll at least be ready to sleep on the porch.”

  The cat’s ears shot up seconds before Jo heard the crunch of tires coming down the road. Who was coming way out here? Sam?

  The cat bolted to the woods as a black Toyota 4Runner pulled into her driveway.

  Holden Joyce?

  Jo stood up, warning bells going off in her head. What was the FBI agent doing at her house? How had he even known where she lived?

  Jo moved to the top of the steps as Joyce approached.

  “Agent Joyce, what brings you here?” Jo snugged her hoodie around her middle. She didn’t have a good feeling about this.

  “I came to apologize,” Holden stopped at the bottom of the steps, looking about as uneasy as Jo felt.

  Apologize? Jo wasn’t buying it. Holden Joyce was up to something.

  “For what?”

  “Seems we got off to a bad start,” Holden eyed the porch as if Jo was going to invite him up. She wasn’t. She snugged the hoodie tighter and waited for him to say more.

  He twirled his keys on his finger, looking down at the ground. “I admit I came off a little strong on that other case. But I’d been given certain information about people in your department. Information that I now realize might have been wrong, especially after digging into your background a bit more.”

  He’d been digging into her background? “What, exactly, do you mean?”

  “Well, let’s just say that I know that your motives are probably solid. In fact, I know a little bit more about your motives than you might think.” Holden looked up, and the look in his eye made her wonder if his words had some sort of veiled meaning. “Anyway, I was wrong to want you to have been punished for filling in the logbook for your fellow officer.”

  Well, now that was a surprise; not at all what Jo had been expecting. Her guilty conscience had her thinking that Holden Joyce knew something about her off-the-record investigation of her sister’s case when, in fact, he’d come to apologize about Tyler.

  “Why the change of heart? You seemed pretty gung-ho about it when we last met, and now you’ve come all the way out here to apologize.” Jo was skeptical.

  Holden gazed off into the distance. “Those girls in the shallow graves is why I’m here. We have a much better chance of solving this case and seeking justice for those victims if we work together. And, like I said, after doing my research I realized what I’d been told was wrong.” Holden kicked a pebble with his black shiny FBI shoes. “And I think you bring a level of expertise to the situation that
could be particularly helpful.”

  Holden’s gaze drifted back to hers, and their eyes locked. She’d never noticed that his were brown. Hadn’t looked at him closely enough. And now they were brimming with hidden meaning. But she could see that his words about the victims were sincere. Still, she had to wonder what he meant when he said she had a level of expertise.

  Was it possible that Holden Joyce knew about her sister? Had he been in on her sister’s case? She did the math in her head. He looked to be around 50-ish. He would’ve only been in his early 20s when her sister had been abducted, but it was possible he’d worked for the Bureau then.

  Hadn’t Bev Hatch mentioned something about a bungled case that had haunted him? Was it possible it was her sister’s case? If it had, he would’ve connected the last names, but Harris wasn’t exactly unique. But if he had, that might explain all the strange looks he’d been giving her.

  “Anyway, I just wanted to come out and apologize in the hope that we can start fresh. You helped out a fellow officer and spared his family undue pain. That was the right thing to do. I hope to come together to solve this case.” He gave her one last long look, then turned and got back in his car, leaving Jo staring after him.

  Just as his taillights vanished, her phone pinged. She pulled it out. It was Bridget! Relief flooded through her, overshadowing her concerns about the odd conversation with Holden. The text contained two words.

  Doing okay.

  Jo hadn’t been close with her sister in years, but she still loved her desperately. Sure, Jo had tried to help her many times. Rehab. Counseling. Taking her into her own home. But Bridget always fell back into drugs. It was frustrating, but Jo had had to make her peace with it or it would’ve driven her crazy.

  She thumbed back a quick text.

  Good to hear that. Hope things are looking up.

  Jo still hoped one day Bridget would go straight. At least she was still alive.

  Doing good. Staying in a halfway house now.

  Jo let a reluctant seed of hope sprout. Bridget could be just telling her what she wanted to hear, but a halfway house was better than the campsites and dingy abandoned buildings her sister had lived in before. Was it possible she really was trying to clean up her act this time?

  That’s wonderful! Can I do anything to help?

  No answer came for a few minutes. Had she pushed too far? Then another text.

  Not yet. Trying to get clean this time for real. Will let you know. I heard about your case.

  She had? Jo hadn’t even realized her sister read papers or was aware of anything going on outside of her little drug circle, but maybe she really was at a halfway house and getting back into society. Her heart warmed that her sister might be interested in finding out what was going on in her life.

  Was it possible her sister knew anything that could help in the case? Might as well ask.

  We think the victims were involved with drugs. Have you heard anything?

  Jo didn’t want to pump her sister for information. She was truly happy and relieved and hopeful that her sister was trying to get clean, but Bridget had opened the door by mentioning the case. Maybe it was because she knew something.

  A friend of mine went missing five years ago. It always haunted me. She could be one of the bodies that you found.

  Adrenalin spiked through Jo.

  What was her name? What can you tell me about her?

  She said her name was Amber Desrocher and she was from Ohio. Thing was, she’d hooked up with a guy from up north. Older guy. Went off with him one day and never came back.

  An older guy? Thorne? She needed to talk to her sister right away.

  Would you recognize him? I want to meet and talk to you. Make sure you’re doing okay.

  Jo didn’t want her sister to think she only wanted to meet with her to talk about the case, because that wasn’t true. She truly wanted to assure herself her sister was okay.

  Jo stared at the phone for a few minutes, but no text came. Dammit! She’d pushed too far again. It had always been a problem trying to force things instead of letting Bridget do things in her own time.

  Then, finally.

  Not now. Can’t see you until I make sure I’m really going to do it this time. So many failures…

  Jo wasn’t going to push this time. Her sister’s recovery was more important than this case. If she truly was going to go straight this time it was more important than anything. But she had one tidbit of information that could be incredibly helpful. If Amber was one of the victims, and the man from up north was Thorne, and her sister could recognize him, that could break the case wide open.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sam had a set of the crime scene photos tacked up to the cork board in his office. He ran his fingers through his hair as he studied each one, looking for a link between the shallow graves and the abandoned cabin. The two cases were related. He felt it in his gut.

  Two light taps on his office door broke his concentration. He turned to see Jo standing in the doorway. “I might have a lead.”

  Sam spun around and gave his full attention to his sergeant. “Really? Spill.”

  Jo came in and stood on the other side of his desk. She had a notebook in her left hand and her number two pencil in her right. She was tapping the eraser end of the pencil on the pad in her usual nervous habit.

  “I contacted my sister last night,” Jo said.

  Jo didn’t talk about her sister much. Sam only knew that she’d gotten involved in drugs at a young age and was living in the drug community somewhere up in the area. In fact, it was one of the reasons Jo had come to White Rock.

  Now the odd way Jo had been acting lately made sense. Of course, finding the skeletal remains and realizing they were linked to drugs probably terrified her. She must have been sick with worry over her sister.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about your sister. You must’ve been worried.” How could he have been so insensitive? Being wrapped up in the case was no excuse. “Is she okay?”

  “No need to apologize. My sister isn’t your problem.” Jo sat down in the guest chair, and it rocked forward because one front leg was shorter than the other. Great for throwing suspects off kilter. Not so great for guests. “She says she’s trying to get clean, but who knows. Anyway, she had heard about the case and gave me the name of a young girl she befriended who disappeared right around the time the victims would’ve been murdered.”

  “Really? What’s her name?” They hadn’t been able to identify all the remains yet, and it had weighed heavily on Sam. He desperately wanted to bring closure to the families who were missing children. Though considering what had happened to them, maybe it was kinder if the families just thought they were out there alive somewhere.

  “Amber Desrocher. She said she was from Ohio.” Jo shrugged. “Here’s the kicker. She said Amber got involved with an older man from up north. She took off with the guy one day and never came back.”

  “Thorne?” Sam said hopefully.

  Jo shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe if one of those skeletons does belong to Amber then we could bring a photo of Thorne down to see if my sister recognizes him.”

  “Would she do that?”

  “I’m not sure. You know it’s been up and down with her. She might disappear off the radar.” Jo glanced down at her phone.

  “I understand. Let’s take it one step at a time.” Sam’s pulse skipped with a spark of hope. Maybe this case was coming together after all.

  Another tap at the door, and Reese poked her head in. “I have some new information, and I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”

  They all filed back in the squad room. Reese had a pile of papers and her iPad in her hand. She handed the papers to Sam and talked while her fingers typed on the screen keyboard. “Medical examiner’s report on the skeletal remains. John was able to determine for sure that they’ve been there for at least five years.”

  “So we need to figure out what Thorne was up to five years
ago.” Before discovering that Thorne was behind the drug problem in White Rock, Sam had thought he was merely a belligerent pompous asshole ruining the town with all his construction.

  How long ago had that been? Sam had been more focused on figuring out how Thorne was getting permission to turn all their rural zoning into commercial than observing him for behavior that indicated he was a deranged killer. But why had Reese said he wouldn’t like the results?

  “What’s the part I’m not gonna like?”

  Reese looked up from the iPad. “Unfortunately, Mervale International didn’t own that land the cabin is on five years ago. They bought it three years ago.”

  Sam glanced at Jo. That was a bit of a problem. But since Mervale didn’t even actually know the cabin had been on that property, then maybe Thorne knew about the land ahead of time because he’d used it for his drug operation. Maybe Thorne had told Mervale about it.

  “Maybe Thorne knew about that piece of land and knew there was an abandoned cabin. I mean, someone was using it to cook meth and that wasn’t necessarily the owner, right?”

  “Who did own it?” Jo asked.

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Reese pointed to the iPad. “I’m in contact with my friend right now. You know, the one who has access to certain legal databases. Problem is there are two kinds of trusts. One of them you can hide the actual owners, and that’s the kind of trust this land was in when Mervale bought it. There’s no way to find out who the actual owner of it was.” Reese glanced up at Sam. “At least no legal, way, if you get my drift.”

  Sam got her drift. He didn’t want to ask any more questions. Sometimes if you couldn’t do things by the book it was better to not tell anyone how you gained the information.

  The lobby door opened, and Reese stepped back around the post office boxes, her attention barely leaving the iPad. Sam heard Beryl Thorne’s voice drift over from the lobby. “Is Chief Mason in? I have some information that he wanted.”