by Chris Mooney
Darby felt like her heart had stopped beating.
‘I’m looking out for my family just like they were looking out for theirs and you’re here harassing me? I had to send my son to live with my bitch of a sister because I can’t afford to feed my child or pay rent – I’m barely scraping by and you waltz into town and have the nerve to lecture me about what’s fair and right?’ Some steel had entered the woman’s voice. ‘I’ve played by the rules my entire life and for what? What does being nice and thoughtful and fair get you in the end? I’ll tell you what. A big, fat whopping nothing.’
Then the woman’s expression changed. The neurotic mess of anxiety and fear that lived inside her head like a nest of snakes had shed its skin, giving birth to something else, something … darker. Laurie held her head high and proud and said, ‘The Red Hill Ripper’s a goddamn saint as far as I’m concerned.’
What Darby saw in the woman’s eyes scared the shit out of her. Put a gun in Laurie Richards’s hand and she’d squeeze the trigger without a moment’s hesitation. She’d bitch nonstop about having to clean up the mess but she wouldn’t lose any sleep over a murder. She wouldn’t kill out of malice or anger or fear or because of twisted psychological wiring. She was no different than a mother lion protecting its cub.
Right then Darby understood what this was about: survival.
‘You think I’m the only one who turned their back and decided to look the other way?’ Richards snorted. ‘Please. It’s their own fault what happened to them. They decided to be greedy, not me. You think I’m going to put my life in danger because a bunch of greedy pricks are holding out for more money?’
‘Tell me why he killed these families,’ Darby said.
65
Laurie Richards crossed her arms over her chest and stared defiantly at Darby and Coop.
Darby continued to press her with questions, but Richards refused to answer – refused to speak. When Coop threatened to arrest her, Richards calmly turned around, put her hands behind her back and waited to be handcuffed.
Darby knew as well as Coop that the obstruction of justice charge wouldn’t stick; she had thrown it out as a scare tactic to get the woman to talk. But now that Richards was deliberately stonewalling them, refusing to share the reason why the families had been killed and, technically, impeding their investigation, Coop could arrest her, and he did. Darby knew why: the reality of being arrested and placed in a holding cell might jolt the woman out of her self-imposed silence and convince her to co-operate.
They brought her to the station and handed her over to the officer in charge of booking.
Darby went to the break-room for coffee. Coop joined her ten minutes later. He held a small stack of sheets in his hand.
‘What’cha got there?’ she asked.
‘A list of everyone in Red Hill who’s logged on to the newspaper’s website and watched the video. Savran’s name and address aren’t on it.’ He handed the sheets to her and picked up the coffee pot. ‘The computer guys in Denver are handling the traces.’
‘You told me.’
‘I can’t think straight.’ Coop picked up the coffee pot.
Darby looked through the pages as she spoke. ‘It’s got to be tied into the town’s incorporation somehow – the reason why the families were killed.’
‘Agreed. All this time we’ve been thinking that the incorporation was just about re-districting town assets. It’s also about money, if we believe Richards. My guess? Developers were probably targeting key sites to build on in this town, and these families were holding out because they were offered less than fair market value for their homes. What did she call them again?’
‘A bunch of greedy pricks whose bellies and bank accounts were never full.’
‘Said – and I quote – “It’s their own goddamn fault, what happened to ’em.” ’
‘Called him a goddamn saint.’
‘Robin Hood as a serial killer. That’s a new one.’ Coop drank his coffee. ‘Looks like your theory about the town protecting this guy was correct.’
‘You don’t seem surprised.’
Coop shrugged. ‘Like I told you last night, I grew up with that whole town-protects-its-own mentality. Savran gets his rocks off while doing the town a favour.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘I’ll give Richards an hour or so and then I’ll put her in the box. You want to take a run at her first?’
‘I want to talk to Sally Kelly.’
‘To verify Richards’s story about Downes giving her the pen and ink?’
‘That, and to find out how the families are connected. Richards said something about how Downes and his family and the Connelly family could’ve saved the town. Downes was a real estate lawyer. If he was killed because of the incorporation – if he was possibly representing the other families who were killed – Kelly will know.’
‘And she may clam up like our friend in the holding cell.’
Darby kept reading through the names of the people who’d logged on to the newspaper’s website to watch the video.
‘Her name’s here,’ she said.
‘Whose name?’
‘Sally Kelly. The other day she gave me this long spiel about how she didn’t follow the Ripper case.’
‘So?’
‘May I keep these?’
Coop nodded. ‘I need to make some calls. The SAC for the Denver field office found out what happened last night and left me several messages. I’ve got to call him back – and he’s sending some people up here.’
‘Lancaster’s going to love that.’
‘I’ve got a couple of officers here running down the information on the Downes house. I’ve got to sort through that, see if we can find anything that can put Savran inside the house. You want to talk to the Kelly woman, fine, but I don’t want you going alone with Savran still on the loose.’
‘I’ll call Williams and have him meet me there.’
‘Look at you, playing nice for a change. After you call him, you will have someone here drive you to Miss Kelly’s house. Now tell me how much juice you’ve got left on your phone.’
Darby took it out. Coop propped his arm on the windowsill and glanced out at the back parking lot. The snow was still coming down, but it was as fine as dust. The storm was dying.
‘Battery’s three quarters full,’ she said.
‘Fantastic. So you’ll have no problem checking in with me when you get there and calling me when you leave.’ Coop held up a hand before she could say anything. ‘Just do it for me, please, no argument. I need to focus on what’s going on here, and I can’t do that if I’m worrying about you, okay?’
‘Aye, aye, Captain.’
The old stone wall on Route Six is a mile away from the border separating Red Hill from Brewster. It’s short in length but wide enough to accommodate two lanes of cars, and even when it’s ploughed people tend not to drive across it during the winter. The guardrails are made of stone instead of galvanized steel; you take the corner too fast or if your car slides on ice, chances are you’ll hit the wall, go over the side and plunge thirty feet into the river.
The river hasn’t frozen over yet. I toss the MacBook holding the videos of the dead families over the side of the bridge and watch it sink into the dark and murky waters. I toss the other items – an external hard drive and several USB keys – and feel a sweet and blessed relief surge through me.
Sarah calls as I’m making my way back to the car.
‘McCormick and the other one, the really tall guy with dirty-blond hair, they went to the Silver Moon Inn and arrested her.’
‘Arrested who?’
‘The woman who works the front desk. They arrested her.’
I slide behind the wheel, thinking.
‘You’re sure?’
‘They handcuffed her,’ Sarah replies. ‘Is she a problem?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. Did they see you?’
‘No, absolutely not. I followed their tyre tracks in the snow, just like you told me to. It was easy,
there’s hardly anyone on the roads.’
I can’t back up; the road behind me is too steep and I might get stuck. I put the car in gear and drive across the bridge.
‘Where are you?’ Sarah asks.
‘I just got rid of the MacBook and the other stuff.’
‘You sure this is going to work?’
No, Sarah. I’m not sure of anything right now.
I reach the end of the bridge, do a three-point turn and drive back across it.
‘Eli Savran is all over the radio,’ Sarah says.
‘I know. I’ve been listening.’
‘I’m worried.’
I am too. I reassure her everything’s going to work out. After I hang up, I stare out the windows, at the roads, and wonder if it’s time to disappear. Alone.
66
Ray Williams didn’t answer his phone. Darby left him a message about the ink and a quick summary of the Laurie Richards situation; then she told him where she was going, hung up and went outside to the waiting patrol car.
Barry Whitehead, the patrolman who had volunteered to drive her to Sally Kelly’s house, had a beard that looked like pubic hair had been glued to his face. He was somewhere in his late twenties and wore a wedding ring, and his patrol car smelled of Copenhagen dipping tobacco. Several tins were stuffed inside the dashboard’s cubbyholes. He didn’t talk, which Darby appreciated. She used the quiet to sort her thoughts.
Sally Kelly’s driveway had recently been ploughed, and her black Honda Accord had been cleaned off. Whitehead pulled in and put the car in park.
‘Stay here and leave the motor running,’ Darby said. ‘I’ll be back in a few.’
‘Your federal friend told me specially not to let you out of my sight.’
‘If I need you, I’ll holler.’ Darby didn’t want him listening in on her conversation. Deputy Sheriff Lancaster, Williams had told her, had spies everywhere. If Whitehead, with his wide, gummy smile, was one of them, she wasn’t going to let him give Lancaster a heads-up.
Darby held up her satellite phone. ‘Watch this,’ she said, and dialled Coop’s number. A moment later, she said, ‘I’m here, Daddy-o. I’ll call you when we leave.’
She hung up and opened the door.
‘If you’re not out in ten minutes, I’m coming in,’ Whitehead said as she got out. ‘I don’t need no fed putting my nuts into a meat grinder, know what I’m saying?’
‘Got it.’
The roofed porch protected Darby from the snow but not the wind. It slammed into her back as she pressed her thumb to the doorbell and kept it there.
Sally Kelly opened the door a crack. She wore pink slippers and a matching bathrobe over a big wool sweater that went down to her knees. Her red-rimmed eyes looked sleepy.
That sleepy look vanished when she saw Darby’s bandaged face.
‘The Ripper struck again last night,’ Darby said. ‘I’m sure you read about it.’
‘No. No, I haven’t. I’ve been in bed all day. I’ve got that nasty stomach bug that’s going round.’
‘May I come in?’
‘I’ve already told you everything I know about David and his family.’
Not everything, Darby thought. ‘I need to talk to you about the Red Hill Ripper.’
‘I told you yesterday, I don’t have any interest in that business.’
‘Then maybe you can tell me why you watched the video interview.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Of course you do. Your local newspaper, the Red Hill Evening Item, posted a video of me on their website. You watched it last night at half past one.’
Sally Kelly stiffened, shooting Darby a look that said How could you possibly know such a thing?
‘Oh, that. Yes, I saw it.’ Kelly nearly choked on her words. ‘I decided to check on the storm, and I saw the video and decided to take a look.’
‘At half past one in the morning?’
‘I told you, I wasn’t feeling well.’
‘Why would you watch the interview when you don’t have any interest in the Red Hill Ripper?’
‘Well, I … Yesterday, after you left, you got me thinking about this person, so when I saw the video I was … I was curious and decided to watch it. I got so upset thinking about David and his family that I stopped watching.’
‘You watched it from beginning to end,’ Darby said. ‘Twice.’
Kelly looked like she’d been hit on the back of the head with a shovel.
‘And,’ Darby said, ‘you watched the video again this morning at a few minutes past eight.’
‘I need to go back to bed.’ Kelly went to shut the door.
Darby’s foot prevented it from closing. ‘Why did you lie to me, Ms Kelly?’
Kelly bundled the robe around her tightly, like a shield. Once again, Darby was struck by the smallness of the woman. The fragility. If she stepped outside, the wind would blow her off her feet, sending her deep into the woods behind the house, where she wouldn’t be found until spring.
‘Ms Kelly?’
‘I wasn’t lying. I must’ve been – the medication I’m taking for my fibromyalgia, sometimes I have a hard time remembering things.’
‘Yesterday you told me you couldn’t afford the medication.’
‘I get confused – especially when I’m upset, like now.’
‘I think I should come in now, so you can tell me the truth,’ Darby said.
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
‘Telling the truth or me coming in?’
‘Coming in. I wouldn’t want you to catch this bug. I can’t keep food down, water, anything.’
‘I’ll take my chances.’
‘Please remove your foot.’
Darby’s head pounded; the staples along the left side of her face felt as though they were tearing into her skin. The Tylenol had made the pain somewhat manageable. She couldn’t say the same about her judgement. She shoved the door, and Sally Kelly along with it.
Kelly staggered backwards. Darby entered the house and, slamming the door behind her, went over to the woman, who had collapsed on her plastic-covered couch.
Kelly held up trembling hands, as though trying to ward off a blow. ‘Please,’ she said. ‘I don’t –’
‘Don’t want to get involved?’
‘I need to go back to bed. I’m not feeling well, and you’re scaring me.’
‘Good. Because I know why the Ripper is killing these families. Laurie Richards told us –’
Darby cut herself off; she had seen a shadow jump across the wall opposite her.
But it was too late. He had been standing behind her, behind the door, and within two steps across the carpet he had the barrel of a pistol pressed behind her ear.
‘Don’t turn around,’ Teddy Lancaster said.
67
‘Hands on your head,’ Lancaster said to Darby. ‘Nice and slow, that’s it, you know the drill … Good girl. Sarah, be a dear and unzip Miss McCormick’s jacket for her and remove the handgun inside her shoulder holster.’
Kelly had staggered to her feet. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the zipper of Darby’s jacket.
‘Careful, Sarah,’ Lancaster said. ‘This one likes to punch, especially when you’re not expecting it.’
Why is he calling her Sarah? Darby wondered. Then she remembered: Sarah was the familiar name for Sally, and vice versa.
‘You still got a chance to get out of this alive, Teddy,’ Darby said. ‘Coop, Williams and the others will be here any moment.’
‘What others?’
Darby didn’t answer. Let him stew in it, she thought.
Kelly had unzipped the coat; Darby could feel the woman’s fingers fumbling on the strap for the shoulder holster. Kelly’s head smelled of shampoo, and her ratty pink robe reeked of bacon and burned toast.
‘I’m sorry,’ Kelly said under her breath. ‘I didn’t –’
‘No talking, Sarah,’ Lancaster said. ‘Darby’s got an i
mportant decision to make, and I want her head clear so she can focus on the matter at hand, understand?’
Kelly nodded compliantly. For a moment Darby had the distinct impression the woman was going to apologize to him.
Then Lancaster pressed the barrel deeper into the base of Darby’s skull. ‘I asked you a question, missy.’
‘The agents from the Denver office,’ Darby said. ‘They’re here in Red Hill.’
Kelly removed the SIG. She dropped it to the floor and kicked it over to Lancaster.
Lancaster grabbed Darby by the back of the collar. ‘Keep your hands on your head, understand? I’m not fooling around here,’ he said. ‘In fact, I’ll prove it to you.’
Then he marched her towards the archway leading into the kitchen. Darby had just crossed the threshold when Lancaster yanked her collar again, forcing her to stop.
Ray Williams sat in the middle of the tiny kitchen, between the stove and the sink, his hands tied behind a rolling wooden desk chair. His mouth was covered in duct tape and his head was slumped forward, against his shoulder; his nose had been broken; his face was swollen and bloody from the cuts along his cheek, temple and forehead.
‘Ray?’ Lancaster said. ‘Wake up, Ray, your sexy lady friend is here.’
Williams moaned behind the tape. His head twitched but he didn’t look up.
‘That’s okay, Ray, you two can talk later. Go ahead and rest.’ Then, to Darby: ‘Ray was unco-operative, so I had to use this on him.’ Lancaster held up a short billy club, the kind patrolmen use, only this one was made of leather instead of wood. ‘I can honestly say the rude son of a bitch completely deserved it. Oh, and the patrolman who drove you here, Whitehead? You can forget about a rescue from him. He called to tip me off before you left the station.’
Darby felt her stomach sink. How many people did Lancaster have on his payroll? Did these people know he was the one killing the families? Or did they, like Laurie Richards, simply turn a blind eye to it?