by King, Asha
A large manila folder sat on the tabletop across from him, open to reveal photos of a dead girl. Devin didn’t look at it once—flat out refused to give a single inch.
“Want to take a shot in the dark as to why you’re here, Archer?” Perry asked.
Devin said nothing.
Apparently Perry didn’t need him to participate to continue the conversation. “Take a look at her.” He stopped pacing, stood in front of the table, and waited. When Devin didn’t move, Perry slammed his hands down on the tabletop, on either side of the photo which vibrated from the force. “Look!”
Devin didn’t flinch, but he did turn his gaze downward, taking in the top photo of the dead woman. Her face was blue from the water, lips slightly parted and bloodless. Cloudy dead eyes stared sightlessly at the camera.
“No idea who that is,” he said simply.
“Really?” Perry swung the folder around, splayed all the various photos out across the tabletop. Different angles but still the same woman, on a sheet of plastic. “You sure about that?”
Devin’s eyes turned upward slowly, glaring. “I’m sure.”
“And you sure you weren’t maybe seen talking to her Wednesday night? At a nightclub for fucking deviants and psychos?”
His stomach went cold. Though he avoided looking down at the photo again directly, he scanned his memory again. Still he said nothing.
“Odd that she was rolled up in plastic.” Perry tapped the top photo. “Traces of paint splatter on it. Sound familiar? Funny how women make it a habit of dying after being in your company, found wrapped up in things from your house.”
If they’d actually had anything, he’d be under arrest by now, but he doubted Perry was past tossing him in jail overnight just to prove a point.
The Deputy Chief stood tall again, backing from the table and leaving the photos in place. “She turned you in, Archer. Even your supposed alibi doesn’t trust you.”
Devin frowned, openly confused about what the hell Perry was going on about. “Excuse me?”
“Natasha Whitaker. Bet you thought you had her wrapped right around your finger, but she knows what you are. Told us everything first opportunity she had.”
Of course she had. She probably woke up that morning horrified with herself for having anything to do with him. A mix of anger and self-loathing rose in him. He grit his teeth, clenched his hands into fists under the table, but said absolutely nothing.
“We all know you’re not stupid. How long have you known you had a private investigator on your tail, huh? Been letting her follow you, set up her as an alibi without realizing it?”
Confusion swirled in his head, though he tried not to let it show on his face. All this time, he thought she was a reporter. Private investigator? Somehow that almost made it worse, yet another level of deception. She’d continued to let him think she worked for the newspaper, but it seemed much more insidious than that. Maybe she was actually investigating for the local police, doing their dirty work for them.
“You’ll be caught this time,” Perry continued. “You’ve slipped up. Witnesses. We’re going over the paint and plastic tarps in your house—what do you think we’re going to find? Blood splatter? Are all your knives accounted for, Archer?”
Devin leveled him with a cold, dangerous look and smiled, exposing his teeth. “Did you get my lawyer yet? Because I have nothing else to say without one, and if you’re not going to arrest me,” he rose, the chair scraping noisily on the floor, “I’ll be going now.”
Perry made no move to stop him as he strolled out of the interrogation room, but he knew it was just a matter of time. The man was determined he’d go down for these crimes and there was nothing Devin could do to stop it.
Chapter Nineteen
Natasha gave details about The Box for the third time to a new officer she didn’t know well, describing the directions there and everything she knew. Even if she wanted to go back, she highly doubted they’d have her now after the police poked into all their personal affairs. If they demanded a list of members and The Box staff gave their clientele up, well, that would definitely damage the business in the future.
At last she was free to go, and though she braced and glanced around for Archer, she didn’t find him. Whether he was still in an interrogation room, the small on site jail, or had somehow been released, she didn’t know, but she was both relieved and disappointed.
She stepped outside the station into the dreary day, stopped under the spot where the roof hung over the door and gave her a bit of shelter, and took a deep breath. No umbrella, and she’d have to walk home in the rain to get her car. She still had to figure out what happened to Malone’s car, and she was not looking forward to asking Archer about it.
Rain hammered down on the cars in the parking lot, obscuring the windows. One door opened and someone ducked out, waving madly as she was reluctant to leave the shelter of the vehicle.
Tash jogged down the steps for Dani’s car. Both she and Adam were in the front, so Natasha slipped into the back, swiping icy rain-slicked hair from her brow.
“Thank you,” she said immediately. “They drove me here but that was it.”
Dani twisted around in the passenger seat to partially face her. “Are you okay? Keisha called me. What the hell happened?”
Adam wasn’t starting the car, just watching her in the rearview mirror with his brow cocked in question.
Tash sighed and leaned back, glad to at least be dry and warm. “I found a body.”
“Oh my God, only you would just stumble upon a corpse,” Dani said immediately.
“Why does everyone keep saying that? Anyway, I fished it out of the creek, called Perry, and then I got a look at it. I recognized her from...” She really didn’t want to tell Adam about the sex club, though it was possible Dani already had. “...the course of my investigation into Archer. Except I was tailing him when she was killed so it wasn’t him.”
Adam shifted, his left hand resting on the steering wheel flexing though he said nothing. Dani’s gaze flicked his way, sensing his anger.
And since they were both here, and Dani obviously knew what was going on, it seemed time to get a few things out in the open. “You neglected to mention that Devin Archer beat your sister.”
She waited but the car was silent, just the steady thump of rain on the room. Adam stared straight ahead now instead of in the rearview mirror. Dani sat back and watched them both, saying nothing.
“Perry mentioned domestic violence complaints when they lived in town, ones that came from a neighbor,” she continued. “But I’m developing a little theory on that. It involves consenting adults and busybody neighbors in a small town.”
Again, she gave Adam a chance to respond, but he didn’t—he looked at everything but her.
“You know damn well what I mean—the two of you caused enough complaints when Dani had an apartment in town, and that’s without going so far as to have spanking benches, whips, and chains.”
“You’re talking about my sister!” he snapped at last.
“I’m talking about sending an innocent man to jail in part because people think he’s a wife beater when he wasn’t. Chelsea might’ve been a strong, independent woman, but when it came to the bedroom, she was into submissive kink. Which, as far as I know, is still legal even in Stirling Falls. And that’s why you didn’t bring up the domestic violence crap—you knew it wasn’t true.”
“He killed her,” Adam insisted. “She kicked him out, she was terrified of him, and she told me he would kill her.”
“She said those actual words?”
“Yes.” His jaw was set, eyes had a steady glare to them.
She wasn’t getting any further with him. Even Dani hadn’t spoken up, which meant things were definitely serious.
“Then I need to go to my office and start seeing how else I can connect him to the victims,” Tash said at last. “If you don’t mind dropping me there.”
Though he didn’t respond, Adam start
ed the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.
Tash sat back in silence. At least he didn’t know precisely how deep she was involved in this.
****
Natasha found several messages on the phone at work. Two were from Malone, which she avoided answering. The rest were all from clients wanting to book a time to come in. Malone used to employ an open-door policy welcoming new potential clients, but that was when two of them worked the place. Now that it was just her, and she was out of the office a lot, meetings actually had to be planned.
She jotted down their names, only two of whom were in Stirling Falls. The rest were from outside town, which meant Mrs. Martin and her loud mouth hadn’t made it all the way there. As she prepared the list to call back on Monday, the uncomfortable feeling in her gut grew worse. If she didn’t get the Archer case sorted one way or the other—whether he truly was guilty or innocent—her reputation would take quite the hit. And even then, it would be worse if word got out that she’d slept with him if he turned out to be guilty.
Her face heated at the thought. Bad idea going to that club. Bad, bad idea. Dani’s sexy heels clearly worked too well.
With everything sorted, she pulled out the current case file and flipped to Deborah Ann Walker’s phone records again. Only a couple of numbers had checked out—the rest would take a bit more work to find without a warrant to get the names that weren’t public.
Tash lifted the phone and started dialing.
The first led her to a boutique in Hastings County, the second a private number of some woman Tash wrote down the name of.
The third got her the voice mail for Stirling Falls Martial Arts. She hung the receiver up for a moment and paused, thinking.
The trouble there was that there was no Stirling Falls Martial Arts. She knew all the businesses in the area, knew that local kids went to Hastings County Karate for that kind of thing.
On a hunch, she rifled through her notes until she found the phone number of the vintage shop run by Meredith Freeman, and called. Three rings in and the woman picked up.
“Hey,” Tash said. “Don’t hang up, but I’m the chick who was in with the police the other day. I just have a follow up question.”
Meredith said nothing but at least was still on the line.
“Now, you’re not a member of The Box, I know, but what if I wanted to get in touch with them? To get on their list to attend?”
“I’m not giving you their phone number,” she said sharply.
“Not asking that, I’m asking what the procedure is. Would I end up dialing a private cell phone? Or a real business like yours that’s a front for somewhere else?”
The woman sighed, her tone laced with irritation. “Fake business to keep things private. They change the name every few months and no, I don’t know what they’re using now.”
“Do you just leave a message?”
“And they call back, yes. It’s for new potential members, requesting if you can bring a guest, reserving a room for a party. That kind of thing.”
“One more question: is the number 555-6341?”
Meredith Freeman hung up.
Tash returned the receiver to its cradle and sat back, staring at the list of numbers Walker had called in the past month. Three times, she dialed the number that was more than likely to The Box. Once on the Friday she was murdered. Though Tash hadn’t yet figured out how she got there without a car, there seemed little doubt that the missing time no one could account for her on Friday after she left the dungeon in Hastings County was probably spent at The Box. Or at least that she’d been intending to go.
Which left Natasha wondering where Archer had gone after she saw him outside the Bar & Grill, and if he’d spoken to this victim as well. He’d asked her last night when she’d first followed him—had he mentioned the Friday Walker was killed?
With the police no doubt already combing The Box for connections to Walker, there seemed precisely one place she could go asking questions.
Whether or not Archer would answer her remained to be seen.
Chapter Twenty
The house was an even worse mess than it had been when he left it.
The basement door lay open, boxes below all shifted around. Whatever they’d been looking for down there couldn’t have been in the boxes themselves, as those weren’t opened. Perhaps they were to look for something in particular, something large. Or just a general search of the premises, as if he left evidence of murders all over the place.
Upstairs things were a bit rougher. Any plastic tarps he’d tossed over the floors and furniture while painting were gone. The paint cans were all opened, fresh drops on the floor. What the hell they expected to find, he couldn’t say. Maybe Perry was busy trying to plant evidence.
He stood in the living room, staring down at the mess. He’d need to make another run to the store for supplies but dreaded the thought of heading into town again.
What he should do is pack up, put boards over the windows again, and get the fuck out of Stirling Falls. Return to the city. Leave all this behind.
Of course, he’d probably just be arrested for leaving town.
Tires rolled over gravel outside. Devin stiffened, turned toward the front door. The day was dark and gray, rain steady as it poured. A dark car pulled into his driveway.
A car he recognized.
He crossed the room, toward the front door. Thought long and hard about locking it, ignoring her altogether. But something drew him toward the porch anyway, pushing open the screen door just as Natasha parked and climbed out of her car.
Devin let the door slam behind him, stood on the creaky porch, and waited.
Natasha closed her door hesitantly, her eyes finding his through the rain. Water beat against her curly black hair, soaked through her T-shirt. She seemed to take a breath, perhaps to steel herself, and then ran through the rain and mud, up the steps to his porch, and paused under the awning.
He remained in front of the door and didn’t offer her the opportunity to go inside. Instead he crossed his arms at his chest, ignoring the slight chill the rain brought, and waited to hear what the hell she had to say.
It seemed he might be waiting awhile. Natasha stared at him, her eyes wide, lips parting and then closing like she wasn’t entirely certain how to open this conversation.
Devin relented. “Your friend’s car is being dropped at your place this afternoon. I took care of it—if that’s a problem, pay me back at your leisure by mailing a check, but it was my fault you were targeted, so I don’t mind taking responsibility for it.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“So you didn’t need to come all the way out here.”
“Well, you destroyed your phone.”
She had a point there, and he hadn’t given her his cell number.
“I wanted to come out here,” she said, lifting her chin as if in defiance to his doubt. She crossed her arms under her breasts and shivered. Goose bumps ran up her bare arms and he tried not to notice how the cold tightened her nipples.
He focused on her eyes. “Why?”
“I didn’t really turn you in.”
He scoffed, his boots scraping against the porch boards as he prepared to turn and head back inside.
“I’m serious,” she snapped. “I had to tell them, when I recognized the girl, that I’d seen you speak to her, but I told Perry you had an alibi when she was killed.”
Devin shook his head. “And they believed you, right? Since you’re a private investigator for them?”
The response was all over her face, the way her lips settled into a straight line, the way her eyes grew resolved. It hurt more than he’d expected, the twist of a knife in an old painful wound.
“I’m not working for them,” she said. “Private client. And no, the police don’t believe me, but I tried. I get that you’re pissed at me, but I am still on this case and I have a couple of questions.”
Chick had fucking balls, he had to give her that. He leaned ag
ainst the closed porch door, glaring at her. “Shoot.”
She must’ve been expecting him to argue as she blinked at him for a moment, changing tactics. “The Friday we met, when you were outside of the Bar & Grill, where did you go after you left?”
“Home.”
“You sure it wasn’t The Box?” She continued when he didn’t reply, “Deborah Ann Walker, the victim they found last week, was there that night.”
“Is this Perry’s new tactic? Get me to incriminate myself to you?”
“Goddamn it, Devin, I’m trying to help you. The cops don’t know yet that she went there that night, but they’ll figure it out soon. The last victim spoke to you the night she was abducted—I know because I saw her approach you. If Walker did as well, that means someone is possibly deliberately targeting women who have been around you.”
“Like I told Perry,” he said coldly, slowly, and letting his voice drip with venom. “I. Don’t. Know. Walker.”
“Did anything happen Friday night? Did anyone talk to you?”
She was serious—she apparently actually wanted to know.
Devin sighed and shook his head. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Yeah, people talk—they tend to be very friendly when looking for someone to fuck.”
A blush crept up her cheeks, but it was the only sign of her discomfort; she had an excellent poker face. “And did you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Fuck anyone?”
He smiled unkindly. “Is this personal or professional curiosity, darlin’?”
She didn’t back up or storm away but he strongly suspected she wanted to. “Just answer the question.”
“I go out for drinks, not women. Since I’m not particularly welcome locally—despite trying—it’s the one place I can go.”
“It’s a hell of a distance to go and cover charge to pay for just that.”
“Maybe I like the atmosphere,” he said with a shrug.
“Maybe you like to screw strangers who end up dead later.”