The Broken

by Shelley Coriell

  “Not one of yours,” Chief Greenfield said as he ground his boot into the earth. “One of mine.” The chief turned from the grave and told one of the detectives, “Get out to Hope Academy.”

  * * *

  Friday, June 19, 7 a.m.

  Dorado Bay, Nevada

  Kate stood in the cottage kitchen, listening to the wind chime. Early this morning, the wind had picked up, sending the long silver chimes dancing and a soft tinkle through the cool morning air. The weathercaster reported a storm coming in on the heels of the wind. She curved her hands around a cup of coffee.

  Smokey didn’t do well with storms. They tore through his joints. When the Butcher took him, her friend wore only thin pajamas. Was Smokey cold? Kate pictured the old man aiming a shaky fist at the Butcher, demanding a blanket. She held on to that image, a cold, shaking, mad-as-hell Smokey.

  Hayden walked into the kitchen, buttoning the cuffs of his neatly pressed white shirt. He had spent part of the night at the teenage boy’s gravesite, but eventually came back to the cottage and snagged a solid four hours of sleep in her bed. She, too, managed to push aside her worry about Smokey and slept peacefully in Hayden’s arms.

  “Ready?” Hayden took the cup of coffee she held out, and his lips rested briefly on her cheek. How domestic, normal, she couldn’t help but think.

  “Let’s go.” But going no longer meant running. Today going meant doing something to find Smokey Joe.

  Kate had called Agent MacGregor earlier for an update on the search, but Hayden’s colleague had been in a meeting. She was anxious to talk to him.

  As they headed out the door, Kate nodded toward her bedroom. “Your suit coat. You left it in the closet.”

  “No time,” Hayden said.

  She didn’t argue.

  They found Agent MacGregor at the Dorado Bay police station in one of the conference rooms. He leaned over a large topographical map of Lake Tahoe, which was covered with small colored dots. Like Hayden, Agent MacGregor was dark and tall, but unlike Hayden, Jon MacGregor was whipcord lean. He wore a sharp edginess, and an excited energy brightened his intense face. There was nothing cool or polished or reserved about Jon MacGregor. He wore his strength and passion on the outside for the world to see.

  Agent MacGregor put his arm around her shoulder. “The bad news is that last night we found nothing. The good news is that last night we found nothing.” He gave her shoulders a quick squeeze, turned back to the map, and began to explain the current search efforts to Hayden.

  Kate didn’t hear his words because she was too busy trying to understand Agent MacGregor’s hug. It was a hug from a friend, even though he didn’t know her. She reasoned he was Hayden’s trusted colleague and friend, and she was…

  Exactly what was she to Hayden? His witness? The Butcher’s target? The woman who ruffled his hair? Who made him feel? Who professed her love?

  Even with Smokey missing and the Butcher getting closer, she couldn’t get her mind off Hayden. He’d forced his way into her life, and she’d tried to run, fast and far, but right now, the only place she wanted to run to was his arms, because in the comfort of his arms, the world looked a little less broken.

  She focused on Agent MacGregor, who was saying, “Fifteen minutes ago one of the dogs found a blood spot about a hundred yards down the road from the cottage. I’m getting it typed, getting tire tracks made, and checking with residents in the area to see if they remember seeing a car.”

  Kate could see Hayden’s mind at work, the pictures that were flashing through his head. Planning, thinking, working. In control of everything.

  Even her heart.

  No matter how far and how long she ran, she couldn’t escape the fact that she loved Hayden Reed, a man who may not even know how to love.

  After the update with Jon, she and Hayden searched for Chief Greenfield to get an update on the boy found in the sugar pines.

  Unlike Hayden, Chief Greenfield hadn’t slept last night. He wore the same wrinkled beige uniform, muddy cowboy boots, and a haggard weariness. “Got a positive on the body,” the chief said. “As I expected, it’s Eddie Williams, the Hope Academy student who went missing a year ago.”

  “And you have something else,” Hayden said with his non-question thing. His people-reading skills continued to amaze her.

  “We found footprints on the tarp wrapped about the body.”

  Kate remembered that Sergeant King’s people had found prints outside Shayna Thomas’s house in Colorado Springs. The sergeant was particularly interested in tracking them down.

  Hayden must have been thinking the same thing. “An orthotic?”

  “Nope. Size nine hiking boot, one that matches a pair of shoes worn by Jason Erickson.”

  Kate stiffened. “My brother? Are you saying my brother had something to do with this boy’s death?” Over the past few days, Kate had started to make peace with her brother, who she was sure had been manipulated by the Butcher, and she couldn’t imagine him killing a child.

  “I’m saying we found a footprint on the tarp that matches a pair of Jason’s boots.”

  “It’s likely that your brother didn’t kill this boy,” Hayden said. “We’ve already established that he didn’t have that kind of mentality or even ability. The more likely scenario is he buried the body on someone’s orders.”

  “Whose?” she asked.

  Chief Greenfield jammed his cowboy hat on his head. “Our detectives went to the academy early this morning. As expected, no one fessed up to knowing anything about Williams’s disappearance and death, at least everyone we talked to. Kyl Watson, the director, was conveniently missing.”

  * * *

  Friday, June 19, 7:30 a.m.

  Dorado Bay, Nevada

  Hayden maneuvered past three news vans and a handful of other media vultures circling the gates of Hope Academy. Kate was still at his side. There was no way he’d trust her with anyone else now. The Butcher was closing in. Hayden could feel it.

  They found Beth Watson in the lodge at the front desk, which was abuzz with phone calls. Her pinched, birdlike features were ruffled; her movements jerky and frantic. When the phone stopped ringing, she turned to them.

  “My brother’s not here,” she said with a curtness meant to prod them back out the door. This was a woman close to coming unglued. Right now, he needed her together.

  Hayden rested his elbow on the reception counter and leaned in. “I need to talk to Kyl.”

  “I said he’s not here.”

  “Beth, I need to find out what Jason Erickson had to do with Eddie Williams’s death.” He held out both hands, palms facing upward. “For me this isn’t about placing blame on your brother. It’s about finding a killer.” Specifically, Hayden needed to find out who ordered Jason Erickson to help move that boy’s body. Jason was taking orders from someone, and that someone could be the Butcher. “Do you know where your brother is?”

  Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. “I wish I did.”

  Hayden could see her concern, fear, and panic. “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “Last night around midnight. He was up with one of the boys who had had a rough night. Dr. Trowbridge ended up giving the boy a sedative.”

  “What was your brother’s state of mind last night?”

  “You’ve seen Kyl. He’s worried sick about this place, about the boys, about the ones whose parents have taken them out and about the ones who are left. Last night he was a nervous wreck.”

  “Do you know where he may have gone?”

  “No. This place is everything to him.” The phone at her elbow rang, but she ignored it. “Do you understand that, Agent Reed? Hope Academy is more than a job. It’s his home, his life. It’s all he has. I can’t imagine him leaving it. I can’t imagine him doing anything that would jeopardize it.” The phone continued on in a shrill cry.

  “Is Dr. Trowbridge available?”

  “He’s not seeing anyone this morning but parents. With Kyl gone, Dr. Trowbrid
ge is trying to get things in order for the fundraiser tonight, trying to calm parents, trying to keep things running around here.”

  “The fundraiser is still on?”

  “Without the fundraiser, the academy is gone.” This came not from Beth, but from Dr. Trowbridge, who had entered the lobby behind them. “No, Agent Reed, it’s not the ideal timing, but the board has decided to stand behind our current program, and it appears our supporters also want to proceed with the fundraiser. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to pick up one of the board members from the airport.”

  * * *

  Hayden was quiet as he tucked Kate into the car and came around to the driver’s side. He had a soul-deep need to keep her away from this place, from anything ugly or harmful. As he ducked into the driver’s side of the car, Kate let out a soft cry.

  She raised a shaky hand to the dash. There rested a white satin mask with feathery angel wings on either side and long ribbons fastened to one end, attached to a long stick. At the corner of an eye hole sat a small, teal-beaded angel with only one wing.

  “It’s Smokey’s.” Her voice trembled. “He carried it everywhere with him.”

  “You’re sure?” He shouldn’t have asked. He didn’t need to. He knew the Butcher. Intimately. The Butcher wanted Kate, and he’d taken the one thing in this world she valued. Smokey. This was proof.

  “It’s a message, isn’t it, from the Butcher?”

  “Yes, he has Smokey, and he wants you at the fundraiser tonight.” He pointed at the angelic mask. “This is his invitation.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Friday, June 19, 11:15 a.m.

  Reno, Nevada

  No one bothered to say goodbye.

  Robyn Banks had dedicated eighteen years to KTTL, and as she walked out of the newsroom, past the set, and through sales and marketing, no one said a word. She was nothing, here at KTTL or anywhere else. None of the resumes she sent out had drawn a nibble. She was a forty-three-year-old broadcast journalist no one wanted to put in front of the camera.

  The parking garage was full of cars, empty of people. Everyone was working but her. What was she going to do? About work? About the house? About the shell of a man who was her husband?

  Should she run away like Katrina Erickson? No, she wanted nothing to do with the bitch who was responsible for her current hell.

  Robyn jammed her keys into the ignition and yanked her car out of the parking space she’d used for eighteen years and sped toward Leroy, the ancient security guard who tacked more than a hundred pictures of his grandkids and great-grandkids on the back wall of his guard booth. As she slammed to a stop at the booth window, her stomach lurched at the sight of all those smiling faces.

  What really made today worse was that she was facing it alone. No faces smiled in her corner of the world. No one would tell her that things would be all right or that life would go on. Her throat swelled.

  She pictured Mike, or at least the man he was before prison. So much had been taken from him, from her.

  “Hey there, Miss Banks,” Leroy said. “I heard you was leaving today, and I got something for you.” He rummaged below the counter. She didn’t rush him. Who wanted to rush home to a crumbling house and crumbling husband?

  Plastic crinkled, and the security guard stuck his hand through the open glass window. “Got you a little going-away present. I know how you like them.”

  She stared at the cellophane package filled with a dozen chocolate peppermints.

  “It ain’t much.” Leroy winked. “But I thought you’d like a few for whatever road you’re headed down next.”

  No, it wasn’t much. Not a big party. Not a sending-off bonus. Not even a group-signed greeting card. But it was something. Something in her miserable, pathetic excuse for a life.

  “Thank you,” she said around a tsunami of gratitude in her throat because Leroy had offered something. And as she drove home, she thought about that something.

  Her life with Mike wasn’t what she expected or even wanted, but it was something, and right now, it was all she had. He was all she had. He might think he was nothing, but she didn’t. Not yet. She wasn’t ready to give up hope.

  “Mike!” She hopped out of her car and ran into her rundown house. Maybe they needed to give up the ruins of their old life, of this house, and strike out down new roads. She raced up the steps, almost tripping on the torn runner. “Miiiiike!”

  She ran into Mike’s bedroom, where stale air and gloomy shadows greeted her. She turned on the light, expecting to find him passed out in his chair, but the chair was empty, and so were his bed, his bathroom, the kitchen, and every other room in the creaky Victorian. Her husband was gone.

  On lead-lined feet, she went back to his bedroom. How far “gone” depended on one thing. She opened the bottom drawer of his dresser, rummaged past the oxfords he never wore anymore, and found the box he’d hidden there.

  With trembling fingers, she slipped through the pictures of his faces, and just as she expected, the ones of Katrina Erickson were gone.

  * * *

  Friday, June 19, 11:30 a.m.

  Dorado Bay, Nevada

  Cool gusts of wind and the promise of rain to a region that had for months been blanketed in sun and heat greeted her as she and Hayden left the Dorado Bay police station. She wrapped her arms around her chest and wondered again if Smokey was cold.

  She felt calmer now, but still shaken. By leaving the mask with Smokey’s one-winged angel, the Butcher finally made his move. Tonight he wanted her at the Hope Academy fundraiser, because tonight he would attempt to finish the job.

  The mask sent Hayden into a whirl of activity. All morning he’d been at the station with Hatch and Evie making plans. Those plans included bringing in Parker Lord and others from his Maine-based SCIU team.

  As they hurried through the parking lot toward the car, a broadcast reporter Kate recognized from one of the Reno network affiliates fell in step next to Hayden.

  “Agent Reed,” the reporter said, “is it true Jason Erickson’s footprint was found on the tarp surrounding the dead Hope Academy student, Eddie Williams?”

  “No comment,” Hayden said.

  “Does the Williams boy’s death have anything to do with the Broadcaster Butcher?”

  “No comment.” They reached the car, and Hayden tucked her inside.

  “A trusted source has informed me that Hope Academy director Kyl Watson is missing. Is it true that you questioned Watson previously in Butcher-related—”

  “Dammit, I said no comment!”

  The reporter took a step back, and Kate watched in stunned silence as Hayden got in the car.

  “You swore,” she said.

  Hayden gunned the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. “And…”

  “I’ve never heard you swear.”

  He turned to her and frowned. “Is there some point to this?”

  “The point, Hayden, is you’re upset.”

  “Of course I’m upset.” He slapped his hand against the steering wheel. “I have eleven dead bodies, the latest belonging to a fourteen-year-old boy, which may or may not have anything to do with the Butcher. I have a seventy-four-year-old blind man bludgeoned and snatched from right under my nose. How many more dead bodies will I find before I get this son of a bitch? How many more will he kill before he sinks a knife into you?”

  The rambling admission, more so than the Butcher’s one-winged angel message, sent a stiffening resolve through Kate’s spine. Hayden, the rock, was on shaky ground, but he didn’t need to be. She’d been to hell and gotten banged and bruised along the way. In the end, she found a way out, sometimes running, sometimes fighting, but she survived.

  “We’re going to get him.” She ran her fingers through the soft, black folds of his hair mussed by the wind. “We’re going to get the Butcher, and we’re going to get Smokey Joe.”

  Hayden’s head leaned into her cupped palm. “Is that hope I hear?”

  She pictured tough old
Smokey Joe. Another survivor. “Damn right.”

  As they drove from the station toward the lake, some of Kate’s resolve faltered when she realized they weren’t going back to their lakeside cottage but to the pricey estates to the north. A kick of panic jolted her as he pulled the car into the drive of her grandparents’ mansion.

  “Why do we need to see her?” Kate asked. Her grandfather was out searching for Smokey Joe, and she had no desire to visit the woman who had left her and Jason at the mercy of their sick mother and turned the entire town of Dorado Bay against her father.

  “We’re not visiting your grandmother,” Hayden said. “We’re here to see Parker.”

  “Your boss?” She turned wide eyes on him.

  “Parker and the rest of my team arrived an hour ago. They’re here to help me with tonight’s grab.”

  “But why here?”

  “This is where the Hope Academy fundraiser is being held,” Hayden continued, ignoring the fact that she was digging her heels into the cobbled drive as he dragged her to the stone-lined doors. “Your grandparents have been financial supporters of Hope Academy for a number of years, and this year they’re co-chairing the fundraiser.” He caught her gaze. “And they just put up a twenty-thousand-dollar reward for anyone with information leading to Smokey Joe.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “For you.”

  She rubbed at the ache between her eyes. “Don’t go there, Hayden.”

  “They’re not monsters, Kate. They’re good people. During the hunt for Smokey Joe, I spent some time with your grandfather. Jason and Kendra’s deaths have been hard on them. They realize you’re all they have left.”

  “I’m nothing to them.”

  “In your eyes, maybe so, but we can discuss your family dysfunction later.” He knocked on the door, which was opened immediately by Kate’s grandmother.

  “Agent Lord is on the east patio,” the older woman told Hayden. “He’s waiting for you.”

  In a quickness that surprised her, Hayden sprinted through the house, leaving her alone with her grandmother. Aren’t you supposed to protect me? Kate wanted to scream at his retreating back.