Dangerous Betrayals
Page 3
“Tell Johnson to stop adding people to the list,” I said, laughing.
Peter Johnson was the leader of the Circle of Justice now that my father had retired. It all started years ago when a fellow FBI agent’s wife and daughter were murdered in cold blood. The family was good friends of the Chandlers. That was why my father started the Circle of Justice. The list was where we got our assassination targets. These were the worst of the worst. There was no way in hell we could get caught up. More people got added every day. It just showed you how much evil was in the world. Then again, I could be seen as evil since I killed people for a living.
Placing a hand on my shoulder, my father sighed. “I know, son. When I started the Circle of Justice, I just wanted to make a safer world. Unfortunately, it’s getting worse.”
I glanced over his shoulder at the man he came with. “I’m assuming that’s why you’re here?”
Nodding, he turned toward the man and motioned for me to follow him. “We need your help, Reed.”
The other man held out his hand when I approached. He looked to be in his mid-fifties with a shaved head and the same stress lines on his face that my father used to have. When you saw the kind of deranged shit we did on an everyday basis, it was hard not to let it get to you.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” he said. “I’m Detective John Tallman and a friend of your father’s. Guess you can say he’s been sort of like a mentor. He’s helped me on several of my cases.”
I shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. What can I do for you?”
John glanced over at my father and then back to me. My father placed a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go inside and talk. We have a lot to show you.”
John opened the backseat door of the sedan and pulled out a file. They followed me through my garage and into the house. I turned on the kitchen light and both John and my father went straight to the table and sat down. John opened the file and slid it over my way. I took a seat and focused on the first page. There was a picture of a woman with dark blonde hair and hazel eyes; she was beautiful.
“Her name’s Kennedy Scott,” John informed me. “She’s a twenty-six-year-old high school teacher from Belmont, North Carolina. She was attacked six months ago at her home. The man tried to cut out her heart.”
I jerked my head up. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
John shook his head. “We’ve never seen anything like that in our town. Kennedy’s father had died in a freak fishing accident when she was five years old. The girl hasn’t been able to catch a break. About two months prior to her own attack, her mother was murdered.” He nodded toward the file. “Take a look.”
I didn’t know the woman, but I could only imagine the level of pain she’d been through. I flipped over to the next page. I’d seen my fair share of horror over the years, but I couldn’t imagine losing my mother to something so vile. In front of me was a picture of Kennedy’s mother in a pool of blood with her heart cut out.
Closing my eyes, all I could feel was rage. How could someone do that to another human being? “Did you catch the killer?” I asked, focusing back on John.
Judging by the look on his face, I knew his answer. “We thought we had,” he said, “but I think we might have made a mistake.”
My father tapped a finger on the file to get my attention. “Out of all my sons, you are the one I knew could figure this out. That’s why I brought John to you. Your skills go way beyond anyone else’s at the bureau. No one has cracked as many cases as you have.” He turned to John. “Reed majored in Criminal Justice and Psychology at the University of Wyoming.”
It was true, I was one of the best, but I worked damn hard to be that way. I was good at tracking and finding people, and understanding the human psyche. Even my own brothers had needed my help over the years. I turned to the next page in the file where a picture of a young man stared back at me. Shawn Wyatt. Eyes swollen and red, you could see the tears rolling down his face. I’d seen hundreds of faces of cold-hearted killers and not one of them showed remorse like that. According to the file, his fingerprints were found in the house and he had a history of stalking Kennedy. However, his prints were not on the knife used in the attack, but he was at the scene of the crime. None of it made sense. He even passed the polygraph test saying he wasn’t the killer. But then again, you could pass a polygraph if you knew how to do it.
“If his prints were found in the house, what makes you doubt he’s the one who attacked Kennedy?” I questioned.
John released a heavy sigh and there was a look of regret on his face. I didn’t like it. “I had my doubts at the very beginning,” he began, “but coming from a small town, we had to do something to keep people from panicking. Everything pointed to Shawn, and that’s why we arrested him, but now …” He reached over and grabbed two of the pages I had yet to see, spreading them out in front of me. Each one had a picture of a victim, both of them with their hearts cut out. They looked similar to Kennedy, each woman around the same age with dark blonde hair and hazel eyes. The only difference was that they were from surrounding towns and not Belmont.
I went back to the first page in the file and looked at Kennedy’s picture. It was uncanny, but could it be coincidence? Not sure. Copycat? Maybe, but not likely. Kennedy’s case wasn’t high profile enough, though I wouldn’t rule out anything yet.
“They look like Kennedy,” I said, stating the obvious. “Why haven’t I seen this on the news?”
John rubbed his eyes, his voice tired. “Because your father’s been helping me keep it quiet for now. I don’t know how long it’ll last. It just so happens that neither one of the victims have any close family, but after questioning co-workers of both victims, they all had mentioned something about the women being in relationships.” He pointed at one of the pictures. The victim’s name was Jessica Hollifield. “One of the waitresses at the restaurant this woman worked at said she’d been dating a guy for about two weeks. His name was Grant Smith and she said he looked to be around his mid-thirties with light brown hair.”
“Have you looked into him?” I asked.
John’s jaw clenched. “There’s a shit ton of Grant Smith’s matching that description. The same thing goes for the other victim’s boyfriend, but his name was Johnathan Smith. They’d only been dating for about two weeks as well.” He ran a hand angrily over his face. “Are you starting to see the connection? There are about a gazillion fucking Smith’s in the world, but I’m pretty sure it’s the same damn guy.”
What a sick bastard. Nothing in the world surprised me anymore. Researching all of the Smith’s with the same name would take a lot of time. “Does anybody know what kind of car Grant and Johnathan drove? I gather there were no fingerprints or any other identification?”
He shook his head. “No fucking clue, on any of that. As of right now, these men don’t even exist. We have nothing to go on until we dig up every single Johnathan and Grant Smith. What I do know is that I want to get to Kennedy before word does leak out. She needs to hear about all of this from me. She has no idea we’ve convicted the wrong man and is living her life thinking she’s safe.” He pulled out his phone and showed me a map of North Carolina with a red dot on Thomasville and the other, Summerfield. “This is where the victims were found.”
“Where’s Kennedy now?” I asked.
John put his phone back in his pocket. “Vermont. She doesn’t have any family and she changed her name, but I’m worried the killer might try to find her.”
“What makes you say that?”
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and blew it out slow. When he opened his eyes back up, he shuffled through the photos and found the one he wanted. It was a picture of a sapphire ring, covered in blood. “That’s Martha Scott’s ring,” John said. “At least, I’m pretty sure it is. It was found inside the last victim’s chest. Kennedy had reported a ring matching that description after she packed up her mother’s house. We didn’t know it was missing until then.”
; “What the …” I started to say, then stopped. Out of all the things I’d seen in my twenty-eight years, I’d never encountered something as deranged as that. I’d hunted my fair share of rapists and murderers, but never a serial killer. I’d have given anything to have been on the Zodiac killer’s case or even Ted Bundy’s, but that was before my time.
“Guess it’s safe to say this is the guy who killed Martha,” John admitted, his face pale.
I nodded. “And he wants it known,” I added. A killer wouldn’t leave a trinket behind like that if he didn’t want people to know. He was bold.
John huffed. “There’s no way this guy knows where Kennedy’s at, right?”
I stared right into his eyes. “Trust me, Detective. If you’re smart enough, anyone can be found.” It was too soon to even attempt to know what was really going on. All I knew was that I had a bad feeling in my gut. If there was anything I’d learned over the years, it was to trust my judgment. It’d never steered me wrong.
“What are you thinking?” my father wondered.
Gathering up the papers, I slid them back in the folder. “I want to talk to Shawn Wyatt. If he’s innocent like I’m thinking, he deserves to get help. With Martha’s ring at the scene of a crime, it looks like we’re dealing with the real killer.” Shawn was a stalker and had broken into Kennedy’s house to steal some of her things, but if he wasn’t guilty of murder, he didn’t need to be charged for it, especially with Martha’s ring making an appearance after six months of it missing. “I know the face of a killer when I see one,” I said to John. “If Shawn attacked Kennedy, I’ll know.”
“And if he didn’t,” John said, “we’re screwed.”
I stood. “Let’s go to North Carolina.”
There wasn’t any time to waste. A killer was on the loose and there was no telling where he’d strike next.
Chapter Five
Reed
We’d arrived in Charlotte late last night and I stayed up the rest of the time studying the case. Shawn Wyatt had a connection to both Kennedy and her mother since they taught him at the high school. However, his fingerprints were only found at Kennedy’s house, and not her mother’s. In fact, there were not any fingerprints at all found in Kennedy’s moms house, except for hers and her daughters. And another sign that this wasn’t our guy, none of the items stolen from her mother were found in Shawn’s possession.
In just a few short moments, I was about to come face to face with him. There were so many connections tying him to Kennedy and her mother that it’d make sense to convict him. I could see where all the evidence pointed to him, but with the new murders more evidence of this potentially being a serial crime made Shawn’s innocence possible.
John opened the door to the interrogation room and I set up my laptop along with the polygraph test equipment. I wanted to ask Shawn my own questions. “You ready?” John asked.
Once I turned the camera on my laptop on, I was ready to go. I sat down at the table and folded my hands over Kennedy’s file. “Bring him in,” I said.
John left the room and I opened the file up to Kennedy’s picture. I’d watched every single video the police had of Shawn’s interrogations. He completely lost his shit when the police placed the photo of Kennedy’s dead mother in front of him. There was so much pain and agony on his face. It wasn’t the face of a killer.
The door opened and a shackled man walked in, followed by John. Shawn didn’t even look like himself from the pictures I had of him. All that was left was a shell of a man, pale-faced and thin, nothing but bones. John pulled the seat out for him and I could see the regret in his eyes as Shawn struggled to find the strength to sit.
John cleared his throat. “Let me get him ready and then I’ll leave you two alone.”
Head hung low, Shawn didn’t even acknowledge me. It was as if he was withdrawn from the world as John hooked him up to the machine. Once John left the room, I kept my eyes on Shawn. “My name’s Reed Chandler,” I said, wondering if I’d garner any movement from him. All he did was sit there completely motionless. Even on the polygraph, everything was calm. “I’m here to help you, Shawn. I don’t think you’re the one who killed Martha Scott. And I also don’t think you’re the one who attacked Kennedy.” There was a spike on the graph, but it fizzled out fast.
I’d spent the entire night watching his interrogation videos. Not once did he mess up on his stories. They stayed consistent. Shawn looked up at me, clearly not believing me by the deadpan look on his face.
“Did you hear me?” I said.
Shawn sighed. “I’m tired of fighting, Mr. Chandler. I just want to die. Why don’t you guys just give me the death penalty.”
“Why would we do that if you’re innocent?” I countered. “That’s what I’m trying to prove.”
He shrugged. “What’s the use? All the evidence points to me. No one believed my side of the story.” In all of his testimonies, he’d admitted to peeping through Kennedy’s windows on several occasions and also breaking into her house to steal some of her trinkets. The night of the attack he had just arrived to peek in her window when he heard her scream. He thought she’d seen him so he hid in the woods behind her house, not having a single clue that Kennedy was being attacked inside.
“I believe your story,” I said, gauging his reaction.
He stared up at me with his lifeless brown eyes. The activity on his graph spiked again. “Why are you doing this to me?”
The guy was still a stalker with serious mental issues, but if he was innocent, he deserved to be set free to get the help he needed. I leaned closer to him, keeping my voice low. “I kill people for a living, Shawn. You may be a headcase, but I know a killer when I see one. Right now, there are young women getting their hearts cut out the way Kennedy’s mothers was. I think it’s the same guy who attacked Kennedy. You don’t want to see her in danger, do you?”
I knew bringing Kennedy into it would trigger that obsessive part in him that fantasized about her. Shawn’s eyes widened, and his heart rate jumped. “She’s okay, isn’t she?”
I shrugged. “She doesn’t know what’s going on, but she will soon. If I can find the killer and link him to Kennedy, you’ll be set free.”
Shawn sat up straighter. “I’ll do anything.” Tears formed in his eyes. “I would never hurt Kennedy or Mrs. Scott.” According to the polygraph, what he said was true.
“All right, let’s get started. Is your name Shawn Jacob Wyatt?”
He looked right at me. “Yes.” Truth. The machine didn’t waiver with his answer.
“Were you a student of both Kennedy Scott and her mother?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yes.” Truth.
“Were you in love with Kennedy Scott?”
His heart rate spiked but then it eased off when he answered. “Yes.” Truth.
“Did she love you back?”
The look of heartbreak on his face was evident. “No,” he replied. Truth. It’d been in the news plenty of times about teachers having sex with their students. With Shawn sticking around for as long as he did, it made me wonder.
“Did you and Kennedy Scott ever have sex?” I asked.
Shawn shook his head. “No.” Truth.
“Why did you break into Kennedy’s house?”
Clearing his throat, he looked away. “I just wanted something of hers.” Truth.
“What did you steal?” I questioned.
He kept his focus on the table. “A picture of her and a T-shirt out of her laundry.” Truth. It was the same things he said he’d stolen in his testimony.
“Do you like the color pink?” I added just to throw him off.
His eyes lifted to mine. “No.” Truth.
It was time to get to the real questions even though I already knew what the outcome was going to be. “Did you kill Martha Scott?”
“No,” he answered, his lips quivering. Truth.
“The night Ms. Martha Scott was murdered, you said you were at your house. Is that true?”
“Did you attack Kennedy Scott?”
Tears fell down his face. “No. I would never.” Truth.
It was time for my last question. “If you would’ve known Kennedy was being attacked, would you have tried to protect her?”
His fists clenched and I could see the anger and regret in his eyes. “Yes. I would’ve killed the motherfucker attacking her if I’d known. Knowing she needed my help kills me every damn day. The guilt eats me up inside.” Truth. I unhooked the polygraph equipment from my laptop, but kept the camera rolling. “You don’t think she’s in danger, do you?”
I looked right at him, wishing I had a different answer. The feeling I had in my gut wasn’t a good one at all. “It’s hard to say,” I replied, choosing my words carefully. I couldn’t disclose all the details of the recent murders. I stood and shut my laptop. “One way or another, I’m going to make sure Kennedy’s safe. Right now, I’m going to see about getting you out of here.” Grabbing my laptop, I turned to the door.
“Mr. Chandler,” Shawn called.
I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Yeah.”
There was more life in his eyes when he looked up at me. “If you see her, please tell her I’m sorry for everything. All I wanted was for her to love me.”
I nodded once and shut the door. John waited for me right outside the door. “How’d it go?” he asked.
Releasing a heavy sigh, I walked down the hall a little way so Shawn couldn’t hear us through the door, though as thick and heavy as prison doors were that was unlikely. “The guy’s innocent, John. He needs some help, maybe a rehab facility until he’s back on his feet. We can do it secretly so the media doesn’t get wind of it.”
John huffed and ran a hand over his head. “Fuck me. Let’s get him out of here then. I’ll make the phone call.” He pulled out his phone and paced down the hall while he talked to the other person on the line. Other than the mental stress Shawn’s had to endure, he was entitled to Wrongful Imprisonment Compensation. The guy would be set for life. A few minutes passed and John came back. “It’s done. Shawn will be secretly transferred to a rehab facility in Charlotte later tonight. I’m going to be in so much shit for this.”