River of Bones

by Dan Padavona

  She rose out of her chair as Chelsey turned the corner.

  “Thanks for coming in,” Raven said, extending her arm at the open chair.

  Chelsey glanced suspiciously around the office.

  “Darren said you couldn’t keep up with today’s cases. What’s going on here?”

  “Have a seat.”

  Chelsey opened her mouth to argue and bit her tongue before lowering herself into the chair. She folded her arms over her chest and glared.

  “So you had Darren lie for you. Why? Last night wasn’t enough? You need to watch me spiral out of control again?”

  “You’re not spiraling out of control. I understand what you’re going through.”

  Chelsey scoffed.

  “Nothing ever bothers you.”

  Raven crossed her legs at the ankles.

  “What if I told you coming here alone terrified me?” Chelsey, who’d lowered her eyes, looked up. “I should have told you from the beginning. After Damian Ramos and Mark Benson kidnapped me, I started having panic attacks every time I was alone.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Because I hid it from you. I confided in Darren. No one else knows.”

  “What is it you’re afraid of?”

  “I worry Ramos and Benson are following me, that they’ll grab me the second I’m alone.”

  “But you have nothing to worry about. If the court gives them an early release, or they escape, we’ll hear about it.”

  “The logical side of my brain realizes that. But the other side has a powerful voice.” Raven leaned in and touched Chelsey’s arm. “I didn’t live through major depression. But I know a little about how our minds turn on us. You’re not falling apart, anymore than I am. Now, let me help.”

  Chelsey’s legs bounced with nervous energy.

  “Raven, I don’t think I can do this alone.”

  “You won’t have to. We’re in this together. But you need to be honest with me. What precipitated your anxiety attacks?”

  Glancing away, Chelsey shrugged.

  “My life has been one disappointment after another this last year.”

  “You’ve built a successful business, and you made a friend.” Chelsey smiled back at Raven. “Life is never as bad as we fear. But we all need help from time to time. You’re taking your medication?”

  “Yes.”

  “I won’t allow a repeat of what happened to you at eighteen. It’s different this time, Chelsey. Doctors have better treatments for depression. You won’t go into battle alone.”

  Instead of replying, Chelsey chewed her nails.

  “Last month, you decided to try again with Thomas. We talked for over an hour about your decision. Then you went cold and refused to speak to me. What happened?”

  “I was a fool for believing we could be together again. A guy like Thomas…he has his life under control. He’s interim sheriff, he led two successful murder investigations, and now he owns Shepherd Systems. What would he want with a basket case?”

  “Thomas has everything under control? His father has stage four lung cancer, and his parents almost died at the hands of a serial killer. And for the record, Thomas wants nothing to do with the family business. He signed the papers to save Shepherd Systems from falling apart.”

  “Either way, what we had ended fourteen years ago. We were foolish teenagers. Neither of us understood life.”

  “Yet you wanted to rekindle your relationship. I don’t understand what changed.”

  Chelsey lowered her head and set her hands on her knees.

  “Last month, after the Thea Barlow case, I drove to the lake. Believe me, I intended to make things right and finally tell Thomas how I feel.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “After I knocked, I searched for Thomas in the backyard and saw him beside the lake with Naomi and Scout. Thomas was embracing Naomi. They looked so happy together. I’d waited too long.” Chelsey waved a hand through the air. “Not that it matters. Naomi is a kind woman, and Thomas deserves someone like her. I eliminated my friends from my life again.”

  The pieces fell into place in Raven’s head. She slapped her forehead.

  “I’m still here, and Thomas and Naomi aren’t together.”

  “But I saw them on the shore.”

  “No, you saw Thomas offering Naomi a job. She’s running operations at Shepherd Systems now.”

  Chelsey slung her hair off her face and creased her forehead.

  “What?”

  “Naomi fell into financial straits over Scout’s medical bills. The poor woman lost her health insurance and accepted part-time jobs to put food on the table. Thomas recognized her value and brought her aboard. Chelsey, they were celebrating her job. They’re not in a relationship.”

  For once, Chelsey was speechless.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Sunday, August 15th

  6:20 p.m.

  Legs extended as he sat on the deck, a notebook computer balanced in his lap, Thomas scanned the digital case notes. There were no days off, no weekend breaks until he found Trooper McBride’s killer and figured out who captured Justine Adkins and Paige Sutton. He wanted to believe the women were still alive. With so much blood spilled across the blacktop, he knew in his heart the attacker murdered Paige. But where was Justine?

  He didn’t trust Cathy Webb. But he also doubted her motivation to avenge Dawn Samson. Sure, she wanted justice for her cousin. But murder? If anyone wanted Dawn’s tormentors killed, it was Alec Samson, the brother no one had heard from in years. Thomas needed a fresh perspective on Cathy Webb, a different opinion.

  Dawn’s junior year photograph filled his screen. Her kind, thoughtful eyes made Thomas wonder why anyone would hurt her.

  Curtains fluttered inside LeVar’s house as hip-hop thumped from the stereo. Which meant Scout was inside. The two shared recommendations on their favorite hip-hop artists, weighing the merits and weaknesses of each musician. The debates often turned into arguments, yet always ended with Scout and LeVar laughing.

  Thomas carried his laptop to the guest house and knocked. The music stopped, and LeVar poked his head out of the door.

  “Sorry, Chief. We too loud for y’all?”

  “Not at all. I’d like your expert opinions on something.”

  “Well, then. Mi casa, su casa. Literally, since you own the place.”

  Thomas followed LeVar into the sitting room. Scout sat before the computer, the Wolf Lake High alumni website open in the browser.

  “We’re on the same wavelength this morning,” Thomas said, gesturing at the monitor.

  Scout shared a look with LeVar.

  “We reached a dead end,” she said. “I copied every message posted by Cathy Webb. Now I’m unsure where to go from here, or how to connect Webb to Skye Feron.”

  “What if I told you the skeleton in the park didn’t belong to Skye Feron?”

  They swung their heads to Thomas.

  “For real?” LeVar asked.

  “This stays between the three of us. We’re not ready to release our findings to the press.”

  “We got you.”

  “I won’t say anything,” Scout said, nodding in agreement.

  “So who’s the girl in the state park?”

  Thomas shifted his jaw and sat at the card table.

  “I wish we knew. Something tells me Cathy Webb is involved. But we don’t have evidence implicating her.”

  “Is she the person who killed that state trooper?”

  “Possibly,” Thomas said, though it didn’t feel right. He opened his laptop and tapped the screen. “The issue is Cathy Webb’s background. Her history is as much a black hole as Dawn Samson’s brother’s is.”

  LeVar took the chair across from Thomas and set his muscular forearms on the table.

  “How so?”

  “Webb grew up in Syracuse, graduated high school, then skipped college and moved outside Wolf Lake after Dawn’s suicide.”

  “Okay.”


  “Thereafter, she moved Alec Samson into her house. A few years after that, Alec Samson’s driver’s license expired. No tax returns, no income. He disappeared.”

  “So how is his background similar to Cathy Webb’s?” asked LeVar.

  “Cathy Webb’s license lapsed two years ago. She pays her taxes. Other than that, nobody knows her. She’s just a hermit living outside the village.”

  “What happened to Dawn Samson’s brother?”

  “Webb claims Alec moved to Alaska.”

  “Sounds like dude is running from something.”

  Scout scrunched her face in thought.

  “Is it possible someone murdered Alec Samson too? What if we’re looking at this from the wrong angle, and the person who killed Skye also killed Alec?”

  “What was the killer’s motivation?”

  LeVar snapped his fingers.

  “There are two killers. Check this out. So Alec Samson goes crazy after his sister’s suicide and gets revenge on her bullies by killing Skye. Then someone avenges Skye and murders Alec, hiding his body where nobody will find it.”

  “That makes for a good story,” said Thomas, sitting back and clasping his hands over his belly. “But I’m not buying it. We can’t even prove Skye Feron is dead. Why would Alec’s killer target Paige and Justine next?”

  The room turned quiet as LeVar and Scout considered the question. Outside the window, a motorboat raced across the lake and churned the water.

  “Maybe we’re asking the wrong question,” said LeVar, sitting forward. “What made Cathy Webb turn into a recluse? Was she a loner in high school, or did something terrible happen to her? There must be some reason she became a hermit.”

  Thomas pushed a hand through his hair.

  “Interesting idea. I checked Cathy Webb’s yearbook. She doesn’t have a class photo, so perhaps she really was a loner.”

  “Doesn’t mean she’s not in the yearbook,” Scout said, wheeling around to the computer. “Kids miss their portraits all the time.”

  Scout typed at light speed and pulled up the digital yearbook from Webb’s high school. As Thomas and LeVar watched, Scout scrolled past the portraits and skipped ahead to the athletic teams and clubs. Thomas scooted his chair forward as Scout paused over a student government picture. Five girls and three boys gathered around a table. The school banner draped over the edge. Scanning the names, Scout drew a breath.

  “I found her. Cathy Webb was vice president of the senior class.”

  LeVar folded his arms.

  “That doesn’t sound like a loner to me. Cathy Webb was one of the popular girls.”

  Thomas slid his chair beside Scout and asked, “Can you zoom in on her face?”

  “I’ll try. But this is a low resolution photo. Don’t expect wonders.”

  The blown-up version appeared blocky, too noisy to make out the girl’s blurry face. Still, Thomas didn’t recognize this girl as the woman he’d met outside Wolf Lake. People changed between their teens and twenties. But this girl didn’t resemble the adult Cathy Webb at all.

  “Find me another photograph.”

  Scout whipped through more pages, speed reading the names as her eyes processed the faces. Thomas was about to give up finding a different photograph of Cathy Webb when Scout stopped. Two dozen students in jogging shorts and leggings massed together in the woods, posing for the cross-country team photograph.

  “There she is,” Scout said, moving aside so Thomas had a better view.

  “You’re amazing, Scout.”

  This photograph appeared sharper than the student government picture. The lens zoomed in tight, yielding an unobstructed profile of Cathy Webb’s face. The high cheekbones and bashful eyes were a perfect match for Dawn Samson. Even the hair was a similar length and style.

  Except for one key difference.

  Thomas’s lips moved in silence as he stared at the girl’s picture.

  “You all right, Shep Dawg?”

  He didn’t register LeVar’s question. The screen pulled him in, the puzzle slowly resolving itself in his mind as he recalled Dr. Stone’s words.

  “Your Jane Doe has what we call a class 2 malocclusion.”

  His mouth hung open as Thomas picked up the phone. Cathy Webb’s prominent overbite commanded his attention. She was their Jane Doe, the murdered girl in the state park.

  So who was the woman living in Cathy Webb’s house? He recalled the unknown woman’s sharp, black eyes and cropped dark hair, the sensation he’d seen her before. He had.

  Alec Samson had never left Wolf Lake.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Sunday, August 15th

  7:55 p.m.

  LeVar radioed Darren and Raven across the state park. Daylight made its last stand as trees encroached on the trail, boxing him in. Normally, he would have enjoyed the tranquility. But the fading light gave the forest a secretive, ominous quality that troubled him. Five minutes ago, the security cameras picked up a man in a hooded sweatshirt sneaking around the cabins. A screaming woman chased him off, and the prowler fled into the woods, a half-mile up the trail from LeVar’s position.

  He crouched between two hemlock trees and concealed himself within the spreading darkness, worried about Scout and Naomi. Chelsey Byrd had volunteered to stand guard over Naomi and her daughter, a sign the private investigator was coming out of her shell. But if a cold-blooded killer like Kilo threatened the family, would Chelsey pull the trigger and put the gangster down?

  Thomas Shepherd’s sudden departure an hour ago concerned LeVar. One moment, they’d studied Cathy Webb’s picture. The next, Thomas grabbed his laptop and bolted for the door with a warning to stay together and keep the doors locked until he returned. That proclamation flew out the window when a hiker reported a suspicious figure watching the cabins from the forest. The sheriff had found his killer. It was plain on his face. What had Thomas learned from Cathy Webb’s photo?

  LeVar knew the Harmon Kings gang member who attacked him was the person stealing money from the cabins. It made sense. The state park provided cover and allowed the hood to watch the guest house from across the lake. While he was there, he pilfered money from unsecured cabins. Two birds, one stone. His radio squawked.

  “Still there, LeVar?”

  Darren’s voice.

  “Right here, bro. What you got?”

  “Got a report of an unknown man hiding along the lake trail about a quarter-mile from your position.”

  “Aight. He’s not getting past me.”

  “Don’t engage him,” Raven butted in. “He might be armed.”

  LeVar glanced at the hunting knife sheathed to his hip. He was armed too.

  “Don’t fret over me, Sis. I know everything about the Kings and how they roll. They won’t surprise me.”

  Last week, while Raven purchased the security cameras in Syracuse, she also picked up three handheld radios. Perfect for communicating in areas of spotty cell coverage.

  “We’re moving in your direction,” Darren said. “Flush him toward me and I’ll take him down.”

  “Bet.”

  Except LeVar didn’t intend to flush anyone out. The Kings set him up and tried to murder him in Harmon. They broke into his house, invaded his territory, and threatened his friends and family. The nightmare wouldn’t end until he finished the fight. That meant cutting off the snake’s head by taking out Rev.

  An owl hooted from the hemlock. While he hid amid the foliage, the sun fell below the ridge line. Shadows thickened through the forest, obscuring his vision. LeVar blinked and rubbed his eyes, forcing his vision to adjust. He’d only get one shot at catching his attacker. Once the hood realized they were onto him, he’d stop using the state park and attack LeVar from a new angle.

  He rose out of his crouch just as a branch rustled. Pulling back, he placed his body against the tree and peered around the side. The empty trail wound into the darkness. Blue dusk covered the sky.

  “LeVar?”

  He flinched at Raven’s
voice and flicked the radio off. It was just him and the gang member now. Two warriors who once fought together on the violent streets of Harmon. Only one of them would walk out of the forest tonight.

  His eyes traveled to where he’d heard the noise. Saw only forest and thickening gloom. Something shifted at the edge of his vision. How had he not seen him before? The gangster hid behind the undergrowth a hundred feet from LeVar. He must have heard the radio, for the hood hunkered down, head swiveling as he took in the forest.

  LeVar edged out from behind the hemlock and stepped toward a pine, his footsteps silent on a bed of fallen needles. The air was thick with humidity and evergreen scents. Animals scurried out of hiding and fled.

  That’s when he realized he didn’t see the gangster anymore. He’d vanished from his position. Concerned his attacker was headed toward Raven and Darren, LeVar toyed with radioing them and breaking his silence. Too risky. This might be a trick. Staying in the woods, stepping across the soft forest bedding, LeVar was a silent predator. His skin prickled, body coursing with adrenaline. A few steps from the trail, he stopped and moved his gaze through the forest.

  The fist exploded out of the dark and caught LeVar’s chin, snapping his head back. Before he reacted, the shadowed figure leapt out of hiding and barreled his shoulder into LeVar’s stomach, sending him backward. His spine collided with a fallen bough. The jagged end stabbed his flesh and drew blood as he scrambled away.

  “Think you could walk away?” LeVar recognized the voice. The Kings hadn’t sent Anthony, Lawson, or Kilo. Rev had come to finish the job. “I been watching you for weeks. Waited for this for too long.”

  The booted foot caught LeVar’s head and whipped him sideways. He sprawled in the dirt and leaves, fingers clawing at the soil as the forest spun around him. The next kick struck his ribs. Hot agony wrenched his body as he drew his knees to his chest and curled into a ball.