by Liz Schulte
“Lakota’s death wasn’t so different. The condition of her body was, yes, but no one saw her taken, and she was placed somewhere the killer could be reasonably certain she’d be found.” Gabriel continued to stare at the board, though he nodded as I spoke. “Don’t you think they’re connected? Sleepy little Jackson suddenly has two murders, right after I show up and start asking questions. That’s a pretty big coincidence.”
“I want us to keep an open mind.” He moved down to the floor beside me and took my marker. After he erased the board, he rewrote it with all three names and a line dividing the board into thirds between each name. On top, with asterisks, he wrote Mary Nelson. April 12, 2011. Missing one week. Found in trunk of burning car, skinned, away from all major roads. He filled in similar sparse notes for the other two. “We need pictures of all three girls. Maybe they have a physical resemblance.”
I started a to-do list in my notebook.
We then moved on to the second board, and I read my witness list: Bryan Jenkins, Jennifer Nelson, Lakota Heller, Nikki Obermiller, Alfie Laurie, and Caleb Monroe.
“What about the girl from the police station? Did you ever speak with her?”
“I didn’t. I forgot about her.”
“Add her to the list. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to her.”
I wrote down Deanna, but couldn’t remember her last name. I moved on to the suspect board. It only had two names on it: Bryan Jenkins and Carter Fagan—my money was on the latter of the two.
“Okay, I know why you chose them, but are we sure there’s no one else who could’ve done it?”
I reviewed all the people in my mind I’d spoken to in connection with Mary, but no one else stood out as a good suspect. “Pretty sure.”
“Okay, add ‘unknown assailant.’ I know you don’t think that’s the case, and I agree, but if the other two murders aren’t related, it’s a possibility.”
I wrote it down.
“Also, we should look at the mother.”
“What? No. Jennifer wouldn’t—have you seen her? Does she look like someone who would’ve killed her daughter?”
“No, but we have to eliminate her. It’s only responsible.” He nodded to the board. “Write her down.”
I didn’t like it, but I did it.
“What about this Alfie kid and Caleb? Are either of them possible?”
I sighed. “I don’t know. Alfie denies knowing her, though everyone else makes it sound like he knew her pretty well. Caleb seemed upset about the murder. I think he had a crush on her.”
Gabriel nodded. “Let’s add them and get alibis. And let’s see if we can dig up alibis for Nikki and Lakota, too.”
“But they’re dead.”
“True, but what if one of them was the killer and someone else found out, someone like Fagan, and he killed them in a rage, instead of arresting them?”
I sort of liked that twist. It would work well in a book. I wrote down all the names, and suddenly my suspect list was a bit overwhelming. We moved over to the blank evidence board and listed the feeble evidence we had: journal and hammer. The gasoline used as an accelerant didn’t lead anywhere. There were no fingerprints, fibers, or hair follicles at Mary’s crime scene.
“What do you know about the other two? Was anything left?”
“Fagan hasn’t said. I think if he had a lead, though, he wouldn’t be so cooperative.”
“Probably right.” Gabriel sat back and reviewed the board. “Okay. Tomorrow we’ll work on getting alibis. Why don’t you take Fagan, since the two of you are so close,”—he gave me a look—“and Alfie and Caleb. I’ll work on the two dead girls and Jennifer Nelson.”
“Fine.”
****
The next morning we drove to Jackson. Gabriel and I went to the inn to get my stuff and take Martha out to breakfast. She didn’t quite seem herself, which made me feel even worse about leaving. I left her downstairs to chat with Gabriel, knowing he’d make her feel better, and I ran up to gather my things. I collected makeup and shampoo from the bathroom, then searched the room high and low for my favorite jeans. I could’ve sworn I brought them with me, but they weren’t in my bag or anywhere in the room. Finally, knowing Martha and Gabriel were waiting, I gave up. I was headed for the bedroom door when I felt the ghostly hand on me again. My skin prickled under the cold. The hand felt more corporeal this time; distinct fingers wrapped around my arm, holding me in place.
“Help me,” the voice said directly in my ear.
“How?” I said back.
The hand squeezed my arm until it hurt. “Help. Me.”
I whirled around and the sensation evaporated, leaving my arm with four long scratches that burned. I took a few deep breaths before going downstairs.
A short drive to the café later, we were seated in a booth, making polite conversation until after the orders were taken. Gabriel didn’t say much as Martha and I chatted, though my mind stayed steadily trained to the ghost. With each passing moment she warmed to me, forgiving me for leaving her without any warning.
“Do you think the murders are connected to Mary?” she asked, leaning over the table toward me and speaking in a hushed tone.
I began to answer, but Gabriel squeezed my knee. “I think—I don’t know. What do you think?”
“I think they must be. Hopefully, it’s not a new killer.” She shivered. “Half the town’s afraid to leave their houses at night.”
I glanced at Gabriel, who frowned slightly. “Did you know Mary?” he asked her.
She nodded, sadness creasing her face. “Always such a good girl. Such a help at the bed and breakfast, especially after my daughter died.”
“My condolences. What happened to your daughter?”
“Overdose. She was in with a bad crowd.” She shook her head and sniffled. “Mary wasn’t that sort at all.”
“Did you know Lakota Heller or Nikki Obermiller?” Gabriel asked, sipping his coffee.
“Oh dear, it feels like I’m being interrogated.” She laughed. “I rather like it.”
I snickered.
Gabriel smiled, but raised a questioning eyebrow.
“I remember Lakota as a girl, but I hadn’t seen her in years. I heard she fell on hard times. I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead, but Nikki was never a good influence on Mary. Such a wild girl.”
“How was she wild?” I asked.
“Always out in field parties until the wee hours of the morning. I believe Sheriff Fagan even arrested her once for trying to spread toilet paper all over the Laurie’s lawn. She was one of those people who always had a scheme in her eyes.”
“Do you think she could’ve had a hand in Mary’s death?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t put it past her—but it would’ve been an accident. An ill-conceived prank gone wrong.”
“What about Lakota?” I gently prodded.
“I’m sorry, dear, I wouldn’t know. The last time I saw her, she was a bright-eyed little thing with pigtails.” She leaned in even farther and whispered, “Very unfortunate family.”
Our orders arrived, promptly ending the interrogation. Gabriel drove Martha home and turned off the car. “Did you say something about wanting Ella to sign some books for you?” he asked.
“Oh, she doesn’t have to worry about that. I don’t want to inconvenience her.”
“Nonsense. No inconvenience at all,” I said.
Gabriel and I followed Martha into the house, and I shot him a questioning look. He shook his head. I went to the kitchen with her, and Gabriel lingered in the living room. After a few minutes, I’d signed everything, and he was waiting by the door with a patient expression. “All done?”
I nodded, then smiled at Martha. “See you soon.”
“Friday,” she reminded.
As Gabriel and I drove away, I asked, “What was that all about?”
“Her daughter was close to Mary, Lakota, and Nikki in age. Near enough that she’d have known the girls pretty well. What if we’re approaching this
all wrong? What if Martha’s daughter was the first to die, not Mary? Perhaps they’re all connected in some way. We need high school yearbooks.”
“Did you catch what she said about Fagan arresting Nikki? And he knew Lakota too, and he was probably dating Mary. Maybe he’s the connection.”
“I did catch that. We need his alibi.”
Gabriel dropped me by the station and went in search of the library. I waved at Deanna as I walked through, purposely ignoring Fagan’s office. I strolled into the interview room, sat, and waited for him to come for his morning banter. He didn’t disappoint. Within minutes, he was in the small room, leaned against the wall.
“How was the signing?”
“Fine. Did you get anywhere on Nikki? Any prints on the hammer?”
Fagan’s head moved from side to side in the slightest of movements. He shut the door and sat in the folding chair across from me. “I can’t have three unsolved murders.”
“It’s only been a day.”
“True, but this one’s just as void of evidence as the other two. There has to be something. Have you gotten anywhere with Mary’s murder?”
I clicked my teeth and stared. It was unlike Fagan to so plainly ask me for help. Was he fishing for information, or was he actually at the point he was willing to take assistance from anyone?
“Ms. Reynolds,” he said, dragging out the syllables in an impatient manner.
“Where were you the night Mary died?”
“What?”
“If you want my help, I need you to tell me.”
“Christ, I’m still a suspect?”
I quirked an eyebrow in a patent Gabriel move and waited, my foot tapping—still hadn’t gotten down the patience part of all of this.
“I was at home—alone.” His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. “If you’re going to trust me, it will have to be on my own merits.”
“I don’t know what we have yet. Gabriel and I are checking alibis today. We have Bryan’s from your files. I was supposed to check yours and a couple others. Gabriel’s looking into where Lakota and Nikki were, and he’s going to speak with Jennifer again.”
“Who else is on the list?”
I didn’t want to give up my suspects, but I needed him to keep sharing information with me, so I had little choice. “Alfie Laurie and Caleb Monroe.”
“I told you to keep the Lauries out of this.”
“Oh, I heard you. I’m choosing to ignore it, though.”
He sighed. “How did I make it onto your suspect list?”
I tugged at my hair and averted my eyes. There was a fine line between gaining his trust and not showing all my cards, and I wasn’t sure I could walk it. “You have a temper, Mary would’ve pulled over for a cop, and as head of the investigation, losing evidence would have been easy enough. While I don’t know how much contact you had with Mary Nelson, I know you arrested the other two victims at some point.”
“None of that’s evidence. That’s speculation.”
“True.” My lips pressed into a thin line. “But I still think you’re hiding something, and God help you if it’s something that could solve this case.” Warmth moved up my neck and into my cheeks as I tried to refrain from accusing him of having an affair with Mary.
“Anything I may or may not be hiding has no bearing on this case. I did not harm Mary Nelson or anyone else.”
“Then tell me what you’re hiding.” It was brash, I knew it, but I wanted him to admit he was seeing her. If he confessed, I could trust it didn’t have anything to do with her death, but as a secret, it was more and more damning.
He leaned over the table, his face calm, and beckoned me closer. My heart filled my throat as I moved forward, not about to back down from a challenge. “It’s none of your business, Ms. Reynolds,” he whispered, close enough to me I could smell the mint on his breath.
“I’m making it my business,” I whispered back.
“Don’t push me, Ella. No matter how much I like you, I will not let you, or anyone else, damage my reputation.” He shoved himself back from the table and strode toward the door.
“Is that what she did, Fagan? Threaten to damage your reputation.”
He paused, and I held my breath. A moment later he left without looking back. I texted Gabriel his alibi, or lack of one, then got up and shut the door again.
I rang Alfie’s number and listened to it ring, hopefully.
“Alfie here, you know what to do.” Damn voicemail. It beeped and I left a message with my phone number, asking him to call me back.
I called Caleb next.
“Hello?”
“Caleb?”
“Who’s this?”
“Ella Reynolds. I spoke to you about Mary.” There was a long pause and if it weren’t for a heavy sigh, I would’ve thought he hung up. “I have a couple follow up questions, if you don’t mind.”
“Go ahead.”
“Did you see Mary at all on the 12th?” I bit my lip and hoped he hurried. Fagan had told me to keep the door open and making him mad would only keep him away for so long.
“I saw her across the quad, but I don’t think she saw me. She was talking on her phone. She didn’t look like she was having a good time. I figured she was either arguing with her boyfriend or her mom.”
“And you just happen to remember that.”
“I remember everything about the day she died. I have gone over it like a thousand times in my mind.”
“And what did you do that night? Did you hear from her at all?”
“No, I was in a study group until after midnight. Then I crashed. Mary wasn’t in that class and she didn’t call.”
“Okay, thanks.” If Gabriel wanted to confirm this story, he could get the names of the other students from Caleb. I’d only inform one person a day that he was suspect.
I found Deanna hovering outside, smoking.
“You leaving for the day?” she asked.
“Yeah, I don’t know that there’s much else for me to do here.”
“Any luck with the case?”
I gave a noncommittal shrug and thought about her being on my new witness list. “How well did you know Mary?”
“Not very. I met her a couple times, but I wouldn’t say we were close.”
“Where’d you meet her?”
Deanna studied her boots and shivered as she took a long drag on her cigarette. “You know, around,” she said in a weak voice.
“You can tell me, Deanna. I’m trying to help Mary, not get anyone in trouble.”
She looked up with liquid eyes and opened her mouth to speak.
“Break’s over, Deanna,” Fagan barked from the doorway.
She cringed and blinked a few times before putting her cigarette out and rushing back inside. Fagan held the door open for her and watched her with suspicious eyes as she went back behind her desk. He came toward me with purpose in his step. “Your lack of respect for authority is troubling, Ms. Reynolds.”
“How about my lack of caring? Does that suit you?”
“I told you not to close the door. I told you not to speak to my employees. Now you’ve done both on the same day you accuse me of murder.”
I tried to look bored, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Why did you close the door?”
“To make a personal call.”
“What did you discuss with Deanna?”
I leaned in close, mocking his posture earlier. “None of your business.” I started to walk away.
He grabbed my arm and yanked me back. “It is my business if you’re spreading lies to my employees.”
“It’s not lies if it’s true.” I ripped my arm away from him and hurried toward the diner. I took a back booth that faced the door and dug through my purse, past the mail Gabriel had given me at his house, to find my cell. I texted Gabriel with trembling fingers that I was ready to go when he was and told him where I was. I ordered coffee from the waitress, put my phone back, then pulled out the mail and thumbed
through it. One envelope in particular caught my eye—plain and white, with unfamiliar handwriting on it. I held it between my fingertips and eyed it. No one I knew wrote letters. Maybe it was fan mail or an invite to some ridiculous neighborhood meeting they were always trying to get me to go to.
“Did you find out anything good?” Gabriel asked, sitting down across from me. “Did Fagan cooperate?”
“That was quick,” I said, stuffing the mail back in my purse. “I’ll tell you about him later.” I made a face to accentuate my point. I didn’t want to say anything because I knew how small towns were. The last thing I needed was for it to get back to him that I was talking in the café about him. Even if he wasn’t the killer, I might very well drive him to murder. I’d never met anyone so hung up on public perception. “How about you? Did you find anything?”
“I actually did.” He looked around and wrinkled his nose. “But we should probably discuss that at home too.”
The waitress dropped off my coffee, and Gabriel told her he didn’t want anything. I drank it as quickly as possible as he told me a story about his grandmother that ended with her whacking him with a wooden spoon.
“See, I still have the scar.” He held up his hair and showed me a thin white line at his hairline on the left.
“Too bad it isn’t shaped like a lightning bolt. You would’ve gotten a wand instead of a gun.” I winked, and he gave an easy smile. I couldn’t be sure, but I doubted his story had as much to do with the scar as it did with trying to win me over to meeting his grandmother. But he could forget it. I knew what came after that. First it was the grandmother, then his mom, and then he’d want to move in and talk about weddings. Nope.
“Did you just compare my sweet grandmother to ‘he who shall not be named’?”
I laughed from deep in my belly. “You have no idea how much I love that you know that reference.” I sat my mug down. “You ready?”