Can't Find My Way Home

by Carlene Thompson

  Don’t you worry. Don’t worry about your brother being missing in the town that considers your father was a serial killer and perhaps your missing brother was his accomplice. Fat chance that I won’t worry, Brynn thought. I’m more frightened than I’ve been for eighteen years, but I’ll try to hide it. I’ll try.

  Brynn forced herself to smile back at Cassie, whose worry lines showed through her fringe of bangs. Poor thing, Brynn mused, and felt her eyes getting droopy; tiredness was catching up with her.

  Brynn felt as if she’d only dozed for a moment when someone clutched her arm and shook her. ‘Brynn, wake up!’

  ‘Huh?’ Brynn said fuzzily. ‘What?’

  ‘It’s the police!’

  Brynn blinked against the glow of an evening sun. ‘What? The police …’

  ‘We’re home and the police are here!’

  Brynn jerked wide-awake as Cassie turned onto her driveway and stopped. Brynn squinted at the officer walking toward them. ‘Cassie, is he the sheriff?’

  ‘Garrett Dane, yes. He’s been the sheriff for three years now. I told him this morning I was picking you up at the airport and about what time we’d be back. I had to talk to him about Mark, Brynn, even though I know you didn’t like his father when we were kids.’

  ‘When Dad was killed, Garrett’s father was the sheriff. William Dane. I hated him.’

  ‘Yeah, but you liked Garrett a lot,’ Cassie said. They stopped. Cassie swung open her door, jumping out of the car and demanding, ‘What’s wrong? Have you found Mark? That’s Brynn in the car. You remember Brynn, Garrett. What’s—’

  ‘I remember Brynn,’ Garrett interrupted. Brynn emerged from the car and stood staring, aware that she probably looked hostile when all she felt was fear. Garrett’s light brown hair waved close to his scalp, the slant of the pre-evening light emphasized the strong lines of his long, angular face, and his sapphire-blue eyes seemed to burn at her, just like they had when he was a teenager. He nodded but didn’t smile. Brynn could almost feel bad news quivering like a live electric wire between them.

  ‘Miss Wilder, I’m sorry to tell you that we haven’t found Mark.’ His voice was level and steady, completely without practiced sympathy. ‘However, about ten miles south of town, we found his car. It was sitting off the road, behind a cluster of trees. The trunk and glove compartment were empty and the keys missing.’ He paused as Brynn’s heart began to pound. ‘We also found quite a bit of blood in the car.’

  THREE

  Garrett and Brynn sat on opposite sides of Cassie’s living room, staring at each other. Brynn couldn’t speak, embarrassed because she thought he knew she’d once had a crush on him, but also distrustful of him as William Dane’s son. Garrett, in turn, looked determined not to volunteer any information. Every minute seemed like ten in the strained silence. She felt relief wash over her when Cassie dashed back from the kitchen.

  ‘I’ve put on a pot of coffee,’ she said. ‘You might want something stronger. Brynn?’

  ‘Coffee is fine.’

  Cassie didn’t wait for an answer from the sheriff. She sat down on the couch next to Brynn, took her hand and demanded, ‘Sheriff Dane, have you gone mute? I was listening from the kitchen. You haven’t told Brynn one thing. You’re scaring her!’

  Garrett glanced at her in surprise. Cassie talked a lot but usually in a light, girlish voice. His gaze shifted to Brynn. ‘I’m sorry if I’m frightening you even more, Miss Wilder. It’s just that you looked like you might faint. I was waiting for Cassie to come back.’

  ‘I’ve never fainted in my life,’ Brynn declared, insulted although she didn’t know why. ‘Just tell me everything you know about my brother’s whereabouts.’

  Garrett raised his eyebrows. ‘I thought I made it clear we don’t know your brother’s whereabouts. All we found is the car.’

  Brynn suddenly felt furious – he sounded so calm, so uninvolved, so matter-of-fact. ‘You must have found something besides his car! It didn’t just drop behind that cluster of trees from the air. Didn’t anyone see anything, hear anything?’

  ‘Not that we know of yet, but it’s early. We just found the car.’

  ‘Look, it’s no secret you don’t like Mark, Sheriff Dane,’ Brynn lashed out, ‘but that’s no reason to blow off a search for a man who could be dying—’

  ‘Whoa!’ Garrett held up his hands, palms turned toward Brynn. ‘Wait a minute, Miss Wilder.’

  ‘And stop calling me that! It’s Brynn.’

  ‘OK! I didn’t know if you’d want me calling you by your first name under the circumstances,’ he said warily, as if not knowing what to expect next. ‘Brynn, I’m not blowing off the search for Mark. Maybe you don’t know how upset you are right now, but you are. I was trying to give you a few minutes to absorb the information about the car before I went on.’

  Brynn grudgingly realized he was right. She was beyond upset. She’d had a week of fear and lack of sleep. Now hearing from the son of the sheriff who’d been vehement about her father being the Genessa Point Killer that the police had found her brother’s car deserted and bloody was almost too much for her. Almost. She must pull herself together, she told herself, if she was going to be any help to Mark.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she forced herself to say, aware that she didn’t sound sorry at all. ‘What you said about the car was a shock. I didn’t mean to fly off the handle.’

  ‘I understand. It’s all right.’ Garrett didn’t sound any more sincere than she had. He looked at Brynn cautiously for a moment, and Cassie slipped out to the kitchen to check on the coffee. Apparently deciding she’d settled down slightly, he said, ‘There are no houses or businesses near where the car was found. No one was around to see anything.’

  ‘But people must have been passing on the highway.’

  ‘There’s not much traffic out that way at night. Besides, the car was about a hundred yards off the road and behind—’

  ‘A cluster of trees. I got that much,’ Brynn snapped.

  After a moment, Garrett asked in a direct tone, ‘Brynn, why did Mark come here?’

  ‘Why do you think? He wanted to prove that our father wasn’t the Genessa Point Killer.’

  ‘Did he have a lead? Had he learned something new?’

  ‘Not that I know of. He called and told me he was coming to prove Dad’s innocence. He didn’t say anything else and he wouldn’t answer questions. The call was brief. Actually, when I started arguing with him about coming here, he hung up on me. I called right back, but he didn’t answer. He also didn’t answer the next twenty calls I made. That was over a week ago and I haven’t heard from him. Cassie talked to the manager of the Bay Motel, who said Mark had checked in last Wednesday evening.’

  ‘I already knew Mark was in town before Cassie came to headquarters this morning,’ Garrett said. ‘Since last Friday, people have been telling me he was here. They were mostly older. I guess that’s because according to Cassie, Mark hasn’t been back for eighteen years. Young people don’t recognize him or know about his relationship to your father.’

  ‘These people who told you about seeing him thought he was a threat?’ Brynn asked, trying to keep her voice even.

  ‘Well … yes.’

  ‘Did they want you to start keeping an eye on him?’

  ‘Yes.’ Their gazes met, Brynn’s blazing with anger. Garrett paused, then said calmly, ‘I asked them if he’d done anything wrong. They said no. Apparently, he was just sight-seeing and minding his own business. I told them it’s a free country and sent them on their way.’

  Brynn was surprised by his answer. ‘Your father wouldn’t have felt that way.’

  ‘I’m not my father.’

  ‘But you must be influenced by his opinion of my father and Mark.’

  ‘Brynn, I formed my own opinions even when I was a teenager, even when Dad was the sheriff. Now that I’m a man, as well as the sheriff, I sure as hell don’t rely on what my father thought. I think for myself!’ He was angry and breath
ing hard. Brynn, startled, went silent. After a moment, Garrett seemed to calm down, drew a deep breath and said, ‘Also, you’ve known me for twenty years. You might as well call me Garrett.’

  Cassie arrived with a large, elaborate silver tray, three thermal mugs, a few packets of diet sugar, plastic spoons and a small container of skim milk. Clearly, she’d assembled her guest tray as quickly as possible. After she impatiently served everyone, she sat down on the couch and looked at Garrett. ‘I heard you tell Brynn people came to your office to tell you Mark was here,’ she blurted. ‘Did they say they’d seen him with me?’

  ‘A couple of them did.’

  Cassie’s eyes narrowed. ‘Gossips! Not that I minded being seen with him.’

  ‘They said they were worried about you.’

  ‘Yeah, sure they were. They were just snooping. They don’t know a damned thing about Mark!’

  ‘It’s all right, Cassie. I’m sure Mark’s reappearance caused a sensation for some people,’ Brynn said. ‘Did you tell Garrett that Mark said he’d found out something about my father’s death?’

  Cassie flushed. ‘Yes, and also when the motel manager said he’d last seen Mark’s car.’

  ‘Good. If Garrett’s going to search for Mark, he should know everything.’ Brynn could feel Cassie’s relief. Knowing Cassie, Brynn was sure she’d worry that she’d told the sheriff too much about Wilder family business when Mark’s sister should have been the one to decide what Garrett Dane knew.

  Brynn looked at Garrett. ‘You said people had come to you to report seeing Mark in town. Did anyone tell you anything else about what he’d been doing?’

  ‘No. They said he’d just been wandering around like a tourist and taking lots of pictures.’

  ‘No one said he’d been asking questions about my father’s murder?’

  ‘No.’ Garrett sighed. ‘Look, I know that back when my father was sheriff, Mark was hell-bent on proving his father’s innocence. For years afterward he flooded headquarters with what he thought was vital information—’

  ‘What he thought was vital information?’ Brynn cut in. ‘Did your father even look at what Mark sent to him? Maybe Mark had stumbled on important evidence. I don’t think your father’s heart was in the investigation.’

  Garrett stiffened. ‘Brynn, a police officer’s heart isn’t supposed to be involved in a murder investigation. He is supposed to be objective.’

  ‘And thorough.’

  ‘My dad was thorough.’

  ‘It didn’t seem that way to me.’

  ‘You were what? Twelve? What did you know about police investigations? What did Mark know, for that matter? Only what you’d seen on television or read in books. Besides, do you think my father and the local county police conducted the investigation of Jonah Wilder by themselves? The state police and the FBI were here. Have you forgotten that? They went over opportunity, method, even DNA. Traces of DNA from three victims were in the hinge of the knife that killed your father.’

  ‘I’m not saying that’s impossible,’ Brynn said. Garrett raised his eyebrows. ‘It’s possible because the knife used to murder those kids was the same knife used to murder my father. But that knife, the murder weapon, hadn’t been in Dad’s possession for years.’

  ‘Brynn, I know what your family said, but—’

  ‘Just one more time, listen to me on this subject,’ Brynn said firmly. ‘When Mark was fourteen, he bought a knife for Dad’s birthday. Mark was terrible about saving his allowance. He didn’t have much money so he had to buy a used knife. There was a nick in the blade. He spent hours carving J.W. in the wooden handle. Dad was thrilled with the knife – especially because of the work Mark had done carving the initials – but Dad lost that knife about two years before Tessa killed him with it. He bought a new one but Mark refused to carve his initials again.’ She saw Garrett’s face tighten. ‘Or should I say she stabbed him with it. She could have meant to stab a third person, the one who attacked her.’

  ‘I know this story, Brynn,’ Garrett interrupted impatiently. ‘It doesn’t change the fact that the knife with your father’s initials and the nick in the blade was the only knife found at the crime scene. There was no knife in your father’s tackle box. His friend, Edmund Ellis, who he fished with every three or four weeks said he didn’t know anything about your father losing the knife Mark had given him. In fact, Ellis said he thought your dad used it the last time they went fishing, about a month prior to the … incident.’

  ‘Doctor Ellis made a mistake.’ Brynn wanted to say something harsher about what Edmund Ellis had claimed, but she was determined to sound completely fair and rational.

  ‘Maybe Ellis did make a mistake, but that doesn’t change the facts, Brynn,’ Garrett said. ‘The knife that killed your father had his initials carved into the handle, a nick on the blade, the DNA of some of the Genessa Point Killer’s victims, and it was the only knife police found within a radius of about two hundred fifty feet around where Tessa was attacked.’

  ‘They just missed it or didn’t look in the right place.’

  Garrett’s eyes narrowed. Brynn could tell he was getting mad. ‘Do you know how big a radius of two hundred fifty feet is? It covers the property around your house, all of the adjoining beach and the patch of woods. The searchers also used metal detectors. Do you think your father went fishing without his knife the day he died? Or do you think Tessa somehow got your father’s old knife, the one Mark gave your father years earlier, went into the woods with it, and then started screaming?’

  ‘No. I’m saying there was a third person in the woods – the one who attacked Tessa. She didn’t know who her attacker was.’

  ‘The possibility of a third person in the woods wasn’t dismissed, but there was absolutely no evidence of a third person being present, and believe me, that angle was investigated just as thoroughly as every other aspect of the case.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. After I saw Cassie this morning, I went over everything to do with this case. Everything. There were no mistakes, no shortcuts, whether or not you want to believe it or not. The investigation was run by the book.’

  Garrett simply looked at her and Brynn felt like she was drowning, desperately reaching for a life preserver ring. Suddenly, something came to her. ‘Was my father’s blood or DNA on any of the victims?’

  ‘None of the victims was found immediately. You know that. They’d been kept alive for a few days before they were stabbed in the heart. They suffered from dehydration, and toxicology screens showed barbiturates that must have been used to keep them sedated.’

  Brynn felt queasy. If Mark had been kidnapped, maybe he was being treated the same way as those long-ago victims, but she couldn’t give in to weakness now. ‘Go on.’

  ‘None of the victims had been sexually assaulted or tortured. After death, the bodies were moved to locations where they’d be found fairly easily,’ Garrett went on. ‘None was buried and, according to the FBI, when they were discovered they’d been thoroughly scrubbed with bleach. Bleach contaminates DNA. If your father left some of his DNA on a victim, it would have been compromised.’

  ‘So you think my father went into the woods to kill Tessa, knowing I’d be home from Cassie’s soon—’

  ‘I believe you were over an hour early. Cassie’s grandfather broke his hip or something? Your father—’

  Brynn glared.

  ‘The killer thought he’d have more time.’

  ‘And how did this killer know when I was supposed to be home?’ Brynn immediately realized she’d made a mistake. Who besides her parents would know what time she was supposed to be home? She gave Garrett a searing look. ‘OK, let’s pretend my father was the killer. An hour isn’t a very long time. Was Dad supposed to have killed Tessa, hidden her body in the woods and cleaned himself up in just an hour? And after Dad supposedly scrubbed her with bleach, how do you think he was going to take a girl of her size and drop her at a visible dump site?’

  �
�With his accomplice’s help.’

  ‘Who you think was Mark. He was in Baltimore that day!’

  ‘I thought we were playing pretend,’ Garrett said easily. ‘We don’t know for certain what was going on in the killer’s mind when he attacked Tessa.’

  ‘We don’t know,’ Brynn imitated. ‘The police didn’t know and it’s a question that bothered quite a few sensible people in this town. Not everyone believed my father was the murderer because if he was, his method changed abruptly when it came to Tessa Cavanaugh. All of his victims were under fifteen. Tessa was fifteen.’

  ‘She’d just turned fifteen. And she was so convenient. Maybe he was decompensating.’

  ‘Oh, don’t give me one of the favorite terms of the criminologists. Like hell he was decompensating.’

  ‘Brynn, you can’t know what he was thinking—’

  ‘No, I can’t. No one can, except for the killer.’

  ‘Psychologists have studied serial killers for years—’

  ‘And they’re still just guessing.’ Brynn’s voice rose.

  ‘That is not necessarily the truth.’

  ‘Not necessarily? That qualification sounds to me as if you have your own doubts, Garrett.’ Brynn took a deep breath. ‘Tell me, if Dad used bleach to contaminate the DNA on the victims, why didn’t he use it on the knife?’

  ‘Maybe he did. Maybe he just didn’t get all of the DNA, especially what was under the knife hilt.’ Garrett looked at her solemnly and said softly, ‘Brynn, after your father’s death, there were no more murders.’

  ‘No more murders,’ Brynn said coldly. She wanted to fire a devastating question at him, make an irrefutable point, but she couldn’t think of anything. She took two sips of strong coffee, marshaling her forces, deciding to change tactics, then said evenly, ‘You said the victims were kept alive for days before they were killed and that the bodies were scrubbed with bleach then left in easy-to-find places. You seem very familiar with an eighteen-year-old case.’

  ‘I told you I read all the files dealing with the case today. I wasn’t completely honest. I’ve actually read the files several times over the years and not a month’s gone by when I haven’t thought about the case, partly because your brother used to be a friend of mine and he kept sending information, especially this year,’ Garrett told her solemnly. ‘You probably won’t believe me, Brynn, but I read everything he sent.’