Elke cleared her throat. “Anyway, eventually, they issued a warrant for our property. I was all for it, because I thought that there was no way that they’d find anything. At that point, Felix was already in custody from other charges. He’d been caught with money from a transaction and that was really enough to put him away, but partly due to my efforts, there was a feeling that more evidence against him was needed. And they found it. They found a ridiculous amount of money hidden in our shed in the backyard. When I watched them bringing it out, that was when I knew that my husband was actually guilty. That was when my world shattered.”
“Look,” Amos spoke up, “we know that article was full of lies. You don’t have to do this.”
“I think I do,” said Elke. “I want you all to know everything. It’s painful, and I don’t like to talk about it, but since it’s been stirred up, I just wanted to get everything straight.”
Frankie glanced at her and then away. “I never doubted you.”
Elke wasn’t sure if she believed the other woman.
“Really,” Frankie continued. “I know things have been… testy between us lately, but I know you’re a good woman. You would never do something illegal like that.”
Elke smiled, but then she thought about Patrick and his hidden drugs. God damn Felix. Why had he gotten her brother involved in his life? “Thank you, Hart. I appreciate it.”
Iain didn’t say anything. He was always quiet, but he’d seemed even more reserved than usual.
“Hudson?” said Elke.
He raised his gaze to hers.
“I hate to ask, and if you’re not comfortable, I understand, but do you mind telling us your side of what’s being said about you?”
Iain licked his lips, a terrified expression flitting across his face. But then he nodded. “I guess that’s warranted, isn’t it?”
Elke reached across the table to touch his hand. “If you can’t talk about it—”
He recoiled from her touch.
Her voice died in her throat.
“Sorry,” said Iain.
She shook her head.
He turned away from all of them, staring at the marker board where they had scribbled up notes on the Fisher case. “You all met Harley during the Mukherjee case.”
“Yes,” said Elke. “She seems like a very nice girl.”
Iain snorted.
Elke looked at Frankie.
Frankie raised her eyebrows.
“Harley and I were friends in high school,” said Iain. “Maybe more than friends, but not anything official. Just… it’s sort of hard to explain.”
“Well, that’s fine,” said Elke. “Maybe that’s none of our business.”
“We kept in touch after graduation,” said Iain, “even though we went in different directions. I went to school to study criminal justice, she got married. It wasn’t a good marriage. He wasn’t a good person.” He scratched the back of his head. “I didn’t realize she was being hurt at first, but eventually, she was sneaking out of the house when he got drunk and running to my place because she was afraid of what he might do to her. I wouldn’t let her hide it. I took her to the station and we filed reports. It’s not as though there wasn’t evidence of the abuse.” He shook his head.
And then he was quiet for several moments.
They waited.
Finally, Elke prompted him. “Hudson?”
He turned back to look at them and then he looked away again. “She called me one night, and she was hysterical. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, exactly. I heard something about shot and something about Dale, and something about blood.” He paused.
“Dale is the name of Harley’s husband?” said Elke.
“Right,” said Iain. “So, um anyway, I went over there, and he was, um, he was dead. She had shot him. He had been threatening her with a gun, and she got it away from him, and she…” He turned back to everyone. “You know, the guy was a bastard, and he hurt her on more than one occasion. That night, she was afraid that he was going to kill her, and she did what she had to do.”
There were several moments of silence.
“That’s awful,” Elke said.
Iain looked away again.
“So, you found her there, and then you called the police?”
“I did,” said Iain to the table. “She was worried, but I told her she hadn’t done anything wrong and that it would all work out. I mean, I’m not saying I don’t wish the guy hadn’t died. I never liked him—I hated him—but it would have been better if she could have left him. Still, I didn’t think she should be punished for protecting herself. So, you know, I did what I could for her. She didn’t have money for a lawyer. I helped with that. She didn’t have anyone to help her through, and I was there for her. I… I don’t know. I guess it looks bad.”
“No, it’s just Powell trying to screw with us,” said Elke. “He’s pretty adamant that we drop this case. He’s playing dirty.”
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” Frankie spoke up, “but the fact that he doesn’t want us on this makes me feel like maybe there’s something here.”
Elke turned to her, surprised. “Seriously?”
“I’m not saying that Powell did anything untoward, but it kind of makes you wonder,” said Frankie. “In my days as a defense lawyer, more than once I dealt with dishonesty on the part of the police, and there was never much I could do about it.”
“Hold up,” said Iain. “We’re not Internal Affairs here. It’s not our job to investigate Powell.”
“No,” said Frankie, “but it is our job to investigate Fisher.” She turned back to Elke. “That article said nasty things about all of us. Untrue things. I know he wanted to make us drop the Fisher case, but I think it’s had the exact opposite effect. I’m more determined than ever to find the truth.”
Elke smiled. “Well, all right then. Let’s kick this case’s ass.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Hi there,” said Carrie Cruz, shaking Iain’s hand. The two had met in the library at Haven College, where Carrie was a student. There were rooms on the lower level that could be used for study, and Carrie said she was more comfortable meeting there than having Iain come by her apartment.
Iain went along with it. He didn’t much care one way or the other. But he wondered if Carrie’s wanting to meet in a public place was just a normal girl being cautious or because of trauma she’d experienced at the hands of Joel Sanders.
She led him down a hallway and to one of the study rooms. They contained a table and four or five chairs, plus a chalkboard and chalk.
Carrie plopped down in one of the chairs. “So, this is about Allison?”
Iain sat down across the table from her. “It’s about that case, yes. We’re investigating it to make sure the conviction holds up.”
Carrie raised her eyebrows. “Oh, okay. So, you think maybe Curtis is innocent?”
“It’s a possibility,” said Iain.
“You know, I didn’t really know either of them very well,” she said. “I mean, I’m happy to help any way that I can, of course.”
“Actually, this isn’t entirely about either Allison or Curtis,” said Iain.
“It isn’t? But I thought that’s why you were here.” She shot a concerned glance at the door to the study room, which Iain had shut behind himself when they came in.
“I’m sorry,” said Iain. “Would you be more comfortable with the door open?”
“What?”
“I’m not trying to startle you or make you feel uncomfortable.”
“Okay,” said Carrie, making a confused and slightly frightened face.
Iain winced. He’d messed up again. He’d been trying to reassure her and he’d worried her. “I’m sorry,” he said again.
“Why don’t you just tell me what this is about?”
“Right,” said Iain, taking a deep breath. “Well, you may remember an English teacher you had the year that Allison was killed. Mr. Sanders?”
“I’m sorry,” said Iain. “Is it bad to bring him up? If it’s hard for you to talk about him—”
“I don’t want to talk about him,” said Carrie.
“Because of what he did to you?”
Carrie stood up, shaking her head. “I think I need to go. Can I go?”
“I suppose so, but I have to admit if there’s any way we could talk about this a bit further or—”
But Carrie had already run out of the room.
Iain peered after her. Well. That didn’t bode well for Sanders, did it?
* * *
Elke gave Noel Hughes an apologetic smile. “This shouldn’t take long. We’re just going over a few things in the case, and your testimony is one of those.”
Noel smiled back. The two were sitting in a booth at the restaurant where Noel worked. She had taken a break to go over a few things with Elke. Now, she sat opposite her, twirling her hair around her pinky.
“So, I know this is difficult, dredging this up,” said Elke.
“It’s okay,” said Noel. “What do you want to know?”
“I’m looking over your testimony of the night before Allison was killed.”
“Oh, when Allison came and told me that she was afraid of Curtis? Sure.”
“So, you remember that happening?”
“Definitely. I was weirded out by it, and I thought about saying something to someone about it, but before I could, she was gone.” Noel shook her head. “It was really sudden and awful.”
“Yes, I’m very sorry for your loss.” Elke placed her hands flat on the table. “Are you absolutely positive that the night that Allison told you this was the night before the murder?”
“Pretty sure. Why do you ask that?”
“It’s only that we have conflicting testimony about where Allison was that evening.”
“Oh,” said Noel, scrunching up her face and thinking. “I mean, I think it was that night. But it was five years ago at this point. I guess I couldn’t be totally sure. Sometimes you remember things different than they are.”
“So, it could have been a different night that Allison told you this?”
“Maybe.” Noel shrugged.
“Well, that does clear up the discrepancy if so. Thanks.” Elke smiled. “Just one more thing?”
“Sure.”
“Where were you after school on the day Allison was killed?”
“Uh… I think I was at cheerleading practice,” said Noel. “Why are you asking me that?”
“Just a routine question is all.”
“You don’t suspect me of the murder, do you?” said Noel.
Interesting that she’d jumped right to that, wasn’t it? “Well, we’re investigating everything again, so we’re exploring all the possible angles.”
“Okay,” said Noel, folding her arms over her chest. “In that case, you do suspect me.”
“I never said that, Ms. Hughes.”
“Look, I didn’t kill Allison. Wasn’t she raped, anyway? Doesn’t it have to be a guy?”
Elke cleared her throat. Noel certainly didn’t seem to have any trouble talking about the horror perpetrated on her friend. “Well, there’s evidence that she engaged in sexual activity, but it could have been consensual.”
“Oh,” said Noel. “Well, it still wasn’t me. Allison was my best friend. I had no reason to kill her.”
* * *
“Um, guys?” said Amos.
Elke, Frankie, and Iain were in the conference room talking about the reaction that Carrie Cruz had to the mention of Joel Sanders and what exactly that meant. Iain was saying that he still didn’t think that Sanders had anything tying him to Allison’s case, but Elke and Frankie thought it was suspicious that Carrie had reacted so strongly to Sanders.
Amos was in the doorway to the conference room, clutching a piece of paper and an envelope.
“What’s up, Amos?” said Elke.
“I was going through the mail, and I found this letter,” said Amos. “It’s postmarked from the North Branch Correctional Facility and so I didn’t know what to expect when I opened it.”
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” said Frankie. “What is it?”
“It’s a letter from Mark Thomas Bennett,” said Amos.
“Who’s that?” said Elke.
“I only know who he is, because they kept talking about him whenever they would do news stories on the Haven Hills Ripper a few months back,” said Amos.
“He’s a serial killer,” said Iain.
“Yeah,” said Amos. “He was convicted about three years ago. He killed like six or seven teenage girls.”
“So, why is he writing us this letter?” said Elke.
“Well, he must have seen that we’re investigating the Fisher case. He wants to claim responsibility for the murder of Allison.”
Elke’s lips parted.
Frankie dropped her pen.
Iain lifted his chin.
“Wait, what?” said Elke. “He’s saying that he killed Allison Ross?”
Amos nodded.
Elke gestured. “Bring the letter here.”
Amos came into the room and handed it over. He sat down at the conference table with the others.
Elke squinted at the letter. “He says that he had a lot more victims than the ones he was convicted of killing, and that Allison was one of them, and that he knows details of the murder that only the murderer would know. He doesn’t want to divulge them in the letter, though. He wants a face-to-face meeting.”
Frankie snatched the letter up. “Let me see that.”
Elke leaned back in her chair. “Does anyone know much about this guy? Is this possible?”
“I think we’d have to pull files,” said Iain, “but from what I remember, she might fit his profile. At the time of Allison’s death, he wasn’t killing prolifically. All of the girls he was convicted of were killed in the span of six months. And that’s not atypical for a serial killer. Sometimes, they may have long cooling off periods between murders, but then, the more they kill, the less amount of cooling off they can stand. It’s like an addiction or something. It takes more to get the same high.”
“Ugh,” said Elke, looking ill.
“So, he really could have done it,” said Frankie, staring at the letter. “All this time, it could have been this serial killer and not Curtis?”
“I don’t know,” said Iain. “We need to look at his file and see what his crime scenes look like.”
“Even if they don’t match,” said Elke, “I think we still have to talk to him. We have to pursue every lead.”
“Yes, but if he’s lying,” said Iain, “then he’s almost certainly doing it to play head games with us. Killers like that enjoy exerting control over people, especially people in the justice system. We’d be playing right into his hands.”
“A chance we’ll have to take. Hudson, you and I will go and see him. But first, we do need to look at the files of his other murders.”
* * *
That night, Amos was invited out with some friends to go to the Rainbow again. He didn’t like being alone in the evenings sometimes. After being abducted by a serial killer, he figured his dislike of being alone was pretty typical, though. A few of his friends had offered for him to move in with them. One of them was even looking for a roommate, not just trying to make space for him. But Amos didn’t really like living with other people.
Well, he wasn’t ruling out the possibility ever. He did think it might be different to live with a boyfriend instead of a friend.
But living with another person that he wasn’t intimate with was a big pain. There were issues with when to take showers and whose food was whose and who got dibs on the TV. He found it awkward. He liked to have his own space, and he liked to feel like he could relax. With another person in the house, he never felt as though he could really turn off unless he barricaded himself in his bedroom. Even then, his roommate could knock on his door at any moment an
d ask to come in. Sometimes, Amos wanted to lounge around in his underwear and binge eat. That was much easier to do without a roommate.
So, he kept his place by himself. But he still got a little freaked out sometimes, a little lonely. When people asked him to go out, he said yes a lot of the time. Even if it was a weeknight, and he had to work in the morning.
So, Amos sat at a table with friends. They had another pitcher of beer, but Amos didn’t have too much of it. He didn’t want to be hungover the next day. He also knew he needed to get home at a decent time.
Conversation and company were good. Amos had a fun time. Around midnight, he decided he was going to take his leave, so he got up and left the table and headed out of the bar. He’d been drinking, so he wasn’t going to drive. He’d taken the bus to the bar, and he planned to take the bus home.
Waiting at the stop, he huddled inside his coat, shoving his hands into his pockets. He needed to get a pair of gloves. He could see his breath in the frigid air. His ears were freezing. He could probably stand to get a hat, too.
Thing about winter hats was that they weren’t very flattering.
Of course, he didn’t suppose that mattered. All he seemed to be attracting these days was crazy.
The thought made him feel a little off balance. He was alone at the bus stop. A few cars were going by on the road in front of him, but other than that, he was alone. He turned in a circle, thinking that it would be easy enough for someone to hide in the darkness and watch him.
He shivered, but it had nothing to do with the cold.
And then, a shadow in the distance moved.
His heart stopped.
He watched, not breathing, as the shadow began to come toward him. It was human shaped. It was coming for him steadily, swinging its arms.
Oh, hell, this could not be happening.
Amos’s heart started beating again, but it was thumping out of his body, loud and fast and terrified.
And then the shadow stepped into the light, and Amos recognized who it was.
“Hey,” said Carlos Reyes.
Amos backed up. Hell, was Carlos not just a jerk reporter, but some kind of murderer as well? “What do you want?”
Truth and Consequences Page 9