by Debra Webb
“The investigation was conducted properly the first time,” he argued with fury vibrating in his voice. “Your father murdered those girls. I don’t know why or how you and your sisters were spared, thank God you were, but I know what that monster did. I helped bring those remains out of those woods. I know what they did.”
“We understand your position,” Russ stepped in. “That’s why we’ve been trying to conduct our investigation as discreetly as possible. I don’t know who tipped the media off to our presence but this kind of attention was not our intent. My agency felt and still feels that Ms. Westfield and her sisters may be in danger from Tony Weeden and perhaps even Clare Barker. We’re doing all we can to keep them out of the media’s keen focus.”
Whitt looked from Russ to Olivia and back. “I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree on the matter.”
“We could work together,” Olivia offered. “Go over the details of the case and see if looking back twenty years later we see something that was missed in the heat of emotion. That case was a nightmare for all involved. It would’ve been easy to overlook something small or to see something the wrong way through that lens of so many volatile emotions.”
Whitt’s lips formed a grim line and Russ felt certain he was going to blast Olivia for suggesting he’d made a mistake. “All right. Let’s do that. If you think you can see something I missed, let’s have at it. Then you’ll know what I knew back then—that Rafe and Clare Barker are cold-blooded killers.”
Olivia squared her shoulders. “I’m ready right now.”
Except for her shoes, Russ thought. They were both standing there with bare feet.
“Follow me to my office and I’ll show you everything.”
Chapter Fifteen
Wednesday, June 5th, 3:45 a.m.
Olivia could hardly stay focused on one single aspect of the case Detective Whitt had laid out on the conference table. The crime scene photos were sickening and there were far more than Keisha Landers had had in her possession. The descriptions of the conditions in the home and clinic were deplorable. What had happened those last few months? The vague memories that had surfaced showed a clean, if not modern, home. Mrs. Samson had said the same. But then it all went downhill afterward.
“We couldn’t determine the full extent of the atrocities the girls suffered from their remains,” Whitt said. “We would know more now but twenty-some years ago we worked with what we had. The bodies were dismembered and placed in wooden boxes.” He pointed to one of the photos. “Then buried in that makeshift graveyard they used for the animals they couldn’t save. Back before the arrests, the Barkers had a regular pet cemetery going back there. Folks would bring their deceased pets and Rafe would show them a spot they could use.”
“There were four other girls who went missing that you suspected were connected to the Princess Killer case,” Olivia noted.
“Four for certain but we suspect there were six or more, but we couldn’t connect those with any real certainty. The remains we found were of girls all pictured on Rafe’s pet-adoption bulletin board he kept in the clinic. Those victims had been missing for years. Every parent of a missing daughter remembered the seemingly kind veterinarian referring to their daughter as a princess when they visited the clinic. But it was the final victims before he was caught that we never found. Four for sure, maybe more. Those girls went missing very close together, which was a different MO from the previous abductions. With the others it was one a year, then suddenly four or more go missing in the space of as many months. We think that’s when he started to unravel and his house of horrors fell in on him, so to speak.”
“You were part of a fairly large task force,” Russ put in. He’d spent most of the past hour listening. Olivia had spent that same time avoiding eye contact with him. As much as she wanted to be cool with what happened in the motel room, a part of her was mortified at her uncharacteristic boldness with him. She generally reserved that side of her personality for work.
“I was lead, but I worked with four other detectives from surrounding counties and two FBI agents.” To Olivia he added, “We made no mistakes. The evidence we used to determine that the three of you had fallen prey to foul play was perhaps minimal but we had every reason to believe you were gone. Clare was hysterical. She kept saying over and over that he had killed her babies.”
He surveyed the stacks of interview reports and crime scene reports and shook his head. “Maybe we should have dug further but we had no compelling reason to.” He fixed his weary gaze on Olivia. “Looking back, I can say without reservation that you were better off being whisked away from that nightmare. The investigation took weeks and weeks. The trial went on for months and months. It was a legal and moral nightmare for all involved. For the families of the victims and the rest of the community, it was an unparalleled tragedy. The whole town was in mourning.”
Olivia couldn’t deny he had a valid point but that didn’t change what she needed to know. “One of the witnesses you interviewed has told us that there was another woman present in the Barker home for quite some time before the arrests.” Olivia didn’t want to mention Mrs. Samson’s name. “Did anything your investigation discovered suggest there was a third adult in the house?”
“Mrs. Samson, yes.” Whitt picked up his third cup of coffee and had a swallow, then grimaced. “She mentioned seeing another woman, who bore a striking resemblance to Clare. But Clare denied another woman’s presence. Since she had no living relatives that we could find, we assumed Mrs. Samson was mistaken. The other witness,” he hastened to add before Olivia could point it out, “only saw this other woman once and wasn’t really sure it wasn’t Clare. We found no prints that pointed to anyone else. Of course, our print databases weren’t what they are now.”
“There was a murder in Copperas Cove a couple of weeks ago,” Russ said. “A woman, Janet Tolliver. Is it possible to check any prints you have on file from the Barker home during your investigation to the ones discovered in this recent investigation? Specifically to those of Tolliver?”
“It would take some time.” Whitt shrugged. “But if you think it’s important I could get it done. Who is this Tolliver woman and how does she connect to the Barkers?”
“She was Clare’s sister. She and Clare were separated when Clare was only three, we believe, because Janet had violent tendencies. Later, as adults, the two reconnected and Janet was the one keeping Rafe’s secrets about his daughters. She could be the other blonde woman who looked so much like Clare. And if she was there, you can bet she had a hand in whatever atrocities were taking place.”
Olivia’s heart bumped her sternum. How would she have gotten this far without Russ? He’d elbowed his way into her life and now she couldn’t imagine going through this without him. How would she handle him walking away when his job was done? She suddenly felt completely alone. Her biological parents were killers, or at the very least completely mental. She had damaged her relationship with her family and latched onto a man whose sole purpose was to serve as her protector.
How screwed up was that?
She shook off the painful thoughts and focused on the discussion she’d wanted so desperately to have with this detective. She’d felt certain he was holding something back when in reality he had not. He and the others had done the best they could with what they had. The evidence, though not directly connected to Clare, had been damning. Had Olivia been involved with the case, as she saw it spread out before her right now, she couldn’t say that she would have done anything any differently.
Not a single thing.
“Excuse me.” Detective Whitt reached for his ringing cell phone and stepped away from the conference table.
“How’re you feeling about this?” Russ asked quietly.
She surveyed the mountain of paperwork. “I feel they did everything possible. I was wrong to blame the authorities involved with investigating this case.” Her gaze sought his. “Whatever discrepancies…whatever the truth really is…it lies wit
h Rafe and Clare. Janet’s dead so she can’t tell us anything.” Olivia took a breath and said what she knew needed to be on the table with the rest of this monstrosity of a puzzle. “I believe the only way we’ll ever get anything else is from Clare. If she survives her partnership with Weeden.”
Clare, whether she was innocent of those long-ago crimes or not, was in danger now. Olivia felt it all the way to the core of her being. Somehow, though he had likely killed her, Weeden had been involved with Janet in recent years. And Janet had no doubt been involved with Rafe. Was it possible that Clare had been an innocent victim? Maybe with a few loose screws? Taking into account her crazy family, that last part was a given.
“I can’t let you take a chance like that. Trying to connect with Clare is too dangerous.” Russ shook his head firmly from side to side. “Whatever you believe could be gained, it’s not worth the risk to your safety. If she would willingly come forward, under the right circumstances, then no problem. But not on the sly. No way.”
Olivia crossed her arms over her chest. “You do realize I’m a grown woman,” she countered.
He reached out, stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. She shivered. “Unconditionally.”
“Then—” she cleared her throat of the emotion that tightened it “—you understand I can make that decision without your permission or your approval.”
“You can,” he agreed, “but you understand that I’m a hell of a lot stronger than you and I will do whatever it takes to protect you from all danger, including any your own decisions pose.” He held up a hand to silence her when she would have launched her next objection. “And that part has nothing to do with the job. It’s about you and me.”
Her heart stumbled and the words she wanted to say wouldn’t form on her tongue.
He gifted her with the dazzling smile that took her breath away every single time. “I like it when you’re speechless.”
“There’s someone here who wants to see the two of you if you’re willing,” Detective Whitt announced.
Olivia whirled to face him. “Clare?” Would she turn herself in like this? “Is Weeden with her?”
“It’s not Clare. It’s Claude Henson. He’s the father of one of the girls who was buried on the Barker farm. He has something to say to you about what happened to your SUV.”
Whitt led the way to an interview room where an older man sat at a table with another detective. He reminded Olivia of her adoptive father. She recognized the weary lines that warned he’d worried himself sick about whatever he had to say. In Olivia’s case, her father was usually worried about something she had done or planned to do.
“Mr. Henson, this is Olivia Westfield and her friend Mr. St. James,” Whitt said, making the introductions.
Henson and the other detective stood. Henson shook his head and stared a moment at the cup of coffee he held in his hand. “I was the one who slashed the tires on your vehicle.” He lifted his gaze to Olivia. “A friend of mine over in Livingston called and said he’d heard from a reporter with inside information what you were up to. The petition for a stay of execution and all. He said that his source mentioned you were coming here to look into the investigation.” He shrugged. “I drove all over town until I found an outsider’s vehicle. Since it was parked at that awful place, I knew it was you.” He heaved a burdened breath. “I was wrong. I’ll pay for the damages if you’ll allow me to.” He glanced at the detective who’d been speaking to him. “And I’ll face whatever charges are appropriate.”
Olivia found her voice. “Sir, you don’t owe me an apology. I can’t imagine how you suffered at the hands of one or both of the people who are unfortunately my biological parents. I’m the one who owes you an apology.” She turned to Whitt. “I owe you one, as well. I came here last week all fired up to prove you hadn’t done your job. I convinced myself that because my sisters and I are alive that perhaps my parents weren’t the monsters you had painted them to be. But I was wrong to come with that attitude. All I want is the truth. Whatever that is.”
Russ pressed his hand to her back and she’d never needed that kind of support more. The mere touch told her he was not only beside her, he was with her on this.
“I have no desire to press charges,” Russ added. “I mentioned that last night when the report was written. My insurance will pay for the damages. Let’s leave it at that.”
“I guess you can go, Mr. Henson,” the other detective offered. To Russ he said, “That’s very obliging of you.”
Russ gave him an acknowledging nod.
Mr. Henson paused at the door and turned to Olivia. “You look a lot like your mother. She brought you and your sisters to church every Sunday long after Rafe stopped coming. I guess if I’d been the kind of Christian I should have been I would have known something was wrong then. And when she stopped coming at all, every one of us should have noticed and acted. But we let it go. I’ve had to live with that mistake for more than twenty years. I don’t care to live with it anymore.”
Olivia touched his arm and managed a faint smile. “Thank you, Mr. Henson. If we learn anything new about what happened we’ll be sure to see that Detective Whitt lets you know.”
He gave her a nod and went on his way.
Half an hour later Russ had parked the rented sedan behind the pharmacy next door to the Boxcar Motel. Olivia was beyond exhausted. She desperately needed sleep. Without nightmares hopefully.
When Russ was satisfied that the coast was clear he led her to the door of their room. Dawn was peeking through the darkness. It would be daylight soon…barely two more weeks until Rafe’s execution. Part of her wanted him to die. He had to have committed those awful kidnappings and murders. But what if she was wrong? What if it had been Clare?
“Hold on.”
Russ drew her back when she was only three or four steps from the door. She started to ask why and then she saw the package on the sidewalk in front of their door. Mostly it looked like wadded-up newspaper.
“I want you to move back and get behind that truck on the other side of the parking lot.”
“Shouldn’t you call Detective Whitt? Nine-one-one or someone?” The concept that it could be another bomb had fear throttling at full speed through her veins.
“I’m going to have a look and see what we have here. Now go,” he ordered.
Olivia hurried across the lot and got behind the truck she presumed belonged to the manager or motel owner. She held her breath as Russ approached the door and leaned down to gingerly inspect the clump of newspapers.
When he reached inside she almost cried out his name. And he was always lecturing her about risks.
He studied the object he’d removed for a moment. She tried to make out what it was but she was too far away. A small box of some sort. He opened it and inspected the inside, then closed it again.
“It’s okay. It’s a music box.” He motioned for her to join him.
She hurried over, curious to see the object up close. “A music box?”
He twisted the key on the bottom and opened the lid so the tune would play.
Olivia froze.
That was the tune. The humming she heard in her nightmares. The tune her mother used to hum whenever she was rocking the baby…Sadie.
“That’s my mother’s music box.” The words were hardly more than a whisper. “She knows we’re here. She’s been here.”
7:30 a.m.
RUSS HADN’T SLEPT MORE than a few seconds in the past hour. He scrubbed a hand across his face and considered the newspaper he had smoothed out from the crumpled mess that had been wrapped around the music box.
The stick-figure drawing was the same one Clare had been leaving in her wake. Only this time it was only the mother figure, the three girls and then a small boy figure that represented Laney’s son. Tony Weeden was not a part of this drawing as he had been in the ones she had left behind in Beaumont. In the ones that had included Weeden, his figure had been drawn larger than the three girls.
Di
d that mean she and Weeden were about to have a parting of ways? From what he knew about Weeden, Russ wasn’t sure Clare would come out the victor from a battle with her son. Since the stick figures in this drawing hadn’t been crossed out with big X’s as the ones had in the motel room in Beaumont that Lucas discovered when he suspected Clare and Weeden were watching Laney, did that mean she and Weeden had already parted ways? One thing was certain, she was here in Granger. With Weeden’s and her faces all over the news, she was taking a hell of a chance coming here. This was the last place she would want to be captured even if for nothing more than questioning.
What was the point in sending this music box? Olivia had said that she had heard the tune in her nightmares. Was Clare hoping to trigger more memories? Was she that certain that what Olivia would remember would prove to all with doubts that she was innocent?
Once they entered their motel room, Russ made a call to Simon to update him on the tire slasher and the delivery of the music box. Rafe Barker still refused to speak to anyone from the Colby Agency. Simon suspected that he had called Victoria to the prison at precisely the time that would cause her to be caught up in the protesters and the media frenzy. Like Russ, all at the Colby Agency suspected Rafe was using them for an agenda that was nothing like the one he had presented to Victoria in his letter or at their first meeting.
Detective Whitt would call as soon as he had anything on those prints. It would take some time since twenty-two years ago collection and storage of evidence had been done a little differently. Russ wasn’t sure what they would accomplish by confirming Janet Tolliver’s presence in the Barker home without Clare to explain what that meant, but it was a detail they hadn’t known until now. It was impossible to know which tiny seemingly insignificant detail would matter.
He shifted in the chair to watch Olivia sleep. He hadn’t meant to get this deeply entangled, particularly not with a client. But he was squarely there and there was no turning back now. When this was over, they had things to sort out. He wasn’t simply going away.