“What did he say?”
“It’s really crazy, but he said his mother told him he needed to go to Kentucky. He wouldn’t tell me anything else that his mother told him. Said it was a secret between them. But he was determined to leave and make his way to Kentucky.”
“Why Kentucky?” I asked. The only relationship I knew he had to Kentucky was his grandparents. Maybe he went to Irvine. But then again, Harold and Betty Sue had seemed very believable when they said they had never met Brian. The only other connection he had to Kentucky was me, but he didn’t know I existed. Did he?
“I don’t know. Like I said, child, he told me it was a secret between him and his mother. He wouldn’t even tell me and he told me everything.”
“What happened next?”
“Well, he started begging me to help him leave. I told him no way. I wasn’t risking my job just so he could follow some delusional whim. But he kept at it. Every day. ‘Gregory, help me. Please.’ He just wouldn’t stop. He told me this place was slowly killing his spirit. Said he had a mission to complete and he couldn’t do it from here. He said his mother needed him.”
“So how did he escape?”
Gregory hung his head and as soon as he did, I knew. Gregory had helped him. “I felt bad for him. I always had. Brian was such a nice guy. It wasn’t his fault he was sick. And the bad things he did, that wasn’t really him. That was his illness. So eventually, I caved. I agreed to help him leave.”
“How did you get past the guards and security?”
“I’m getting to that,” he said, but not unkindly. “Anyway, I tried to think of a way to slip him out without being noticed. Then it hit me. There’s a door on the side of the building, near the cafeteria. We don’t post guards at every door. Instead, we use these swipe cards.” Gregory reached down into the shirt of his scrubs, produced a thick plastic card which hung from a lanyard, and held it up for me to see. “All the staff members have one. If we swipe the card on the little box, the doors open up. And I also knew there was only about half staff in the evenings. We don’t check the patient’s rooms every night like they do in jail. This is a low-security facility, not a prison, child. So one night, about an hour after lights out, I swiped my card and Brian slipped out the back door, never to be seen again.”
“How did you not get in trouble?”
“Because no one would ever suspect me. I’m one of the best nurses in this place. Other people had heard Brian obsessing over leaving and so they just figured he’d managed to climb out through the ventilation system or something like that. Then, the powers that be, mainly Dr. Detweiler, decided that rather than admit to losing a patient, they’d fudge the paperwork a bit and make it look like we voluntarily released him. Said he had ‘reached maximum rehabilitation potential.’” He used air quotes as he spoke the last few words. His face showed he thought it was utter bullshit.
“Wow,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “So do you really think he went to Kentucky?”
“Oh, I’m sure of it. It’s all he talked about those last few weeks.”
“Gregory, can you think of anything at all that would tell me where to find him? What city he went to?”
Gregory seemed to ponder this dramatically. He even tapped his temple with his finger and hummed. “You know, now that you mention it…he did say something about a house out in the country. Said his mother had arranged for him to stay there. I don’t remember the name of the city, but I do remember the name of the road. He kept going on and on about Jack or John, River or Creek….”
It was impossible. There was no way he was that close. “Was it Jacks Creek in Richmond by any chance?”
“Jacks Creek! That’s it! Why? You know where that is?”
“Yes, I do. It’s in Richmond, where my mom lives. And you’re sure he said his mother set this up for him?”
“Absolutely. It’s all he talked about toward the end—this supposed visit from his mother in the middle of the night, the ‘plan’ to move to Kentucky, and then something else he would never tell me, some secret he said was between him and his mother.”
“Thank you, Gregory,” I said as I stood up from the table. “You’ve been such a big help.”
He stood too, and faced me. “You promised you wouldn’t tell the doc about what I did.”
“And I won’t. He’ll never hear it from me. I promise.”
“Thank you. I was only trying to help. He seemed so desperate to get out of here. I felt compelled to help him out. I hope I didn’t do something very bad.”
“Let’s just hope he’s okay,” I said. I couldn’t sugarcoat the fact that Gregory, while he had good intentions, had released a schizophrenic man out into the world without medication to follow some delusional ‘plan’ on the orders of his crazy mother, who might or might not have visited him in person. But he was my brother. Even though I had never met him, I felt an intense desire to protect him—from the world and from himself. It was more important than ever that I find him.
The whole way home, I racked my brain for ways to find out exactly where Brian was. If he was on Jacks Creek, that was a very long road way out in the country. And if I hadn’t already found his name in the county clerk’s records, it meant he was renting the house from somebody. There are no records kept of who rents which house in any database. But how on earth was I going to figure out who he was renting from?
It finally occurred to me right as I was pulling into my driveway on West Chestnut Street. Detective Webster was my only hope. It was time to solicit his help. I was in over my head now, especially now that someone else had been killed and I didn’t see any way to go any further without his help. But it was almost nine o’clock when I got home, so I decided I’d call him the next morning.
***
The warm rays of the sun shining through my window woke me up around seven a.m. I padded into the kitchen, where my purse was lying on the kitchen counter, and retrieved Detective Webster’s card from my wallet. I dialed his number on my cell phone and he answered on the third ring.
“Detective Webster,” he said in a charming but professional voice.
“Detective Webster, hi, this is Libby Carter. We spoke the other day about Joanna Baker.”
“Oh, yeah. Hi there, Libby. How are you? How’s your investigation going?”
“It’s going. Hey, listen. I’ve learned some things since you and I last spoke and I’d like to run some ideas by you, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course. In fact, I was going to give you a call anyway. I actually have some more questions for you too.”
“Uh, oh. Am I in trouble?”
“No, nothing like that. Just some follow-up about Joanna Baker.”
“In that case, when can we meet up?”
“I’m free now. How about you?”
I needed at least an hour to get ready and make myself presentable if I was going to meet with the attractive detective, so I had to come up with an excuse. “Um, I was just about to go for a run. Can we make it nine instead?” Why on earth had I said I was going to run? There went me and my stupid mouth, again.
“Sure thing. How about we meet at the Main Street Diner right at nine?”
“I’ll see you then,” I said, probably sounding like a complete and utter dork.
“Yep,” he said before disconnecting the line.
I jumped into the shower, got dressed, made myself as pretty as possible and was ready just in time. Harper was still asleep, so I left her a note on the fridge telling her where I was going. It wasn’t until I got in the car that the butterflies began to flutter around in my stomach. It was a feeling I hadn’t had since I had first met Ryan. What was it about this detective that got me so worked up? I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out.
Chapter 15
I arrived at the Main Street Diner in Richmond a few minutes before nine. I didn’t see any unmarked police cars in the parking lot. In fact, there was only one other car. So I waited in my car until about five after,
when I saw a tan, unmarked Crown Victoria pull in. I watched as Detective Webster stepped out of his vehicle and started toward the door. He must have seen me open the door to my car, because he stopped right as he was about to open the door and turned to face me.
“Good to see I’m not the only one a little late,” he said with a perfect smile.
“I’m perpetually late,” I said, not wanting him to know I had waited for him. “Are you hungry?”
“I’m always hungry,” he said with a laugh as he held the door to the café open for me.
I walked in under his arm. The hostess, who looked young enough to be my daughter, greeted us with a warm smile and ushered us to a booth in the far corner of the restaurant. When the waitress arrived, we both ordered country ham, biscuits with sausage gravy, and coffee. She turned and left Web and me alone in the booth. He was the first to break the awkward silence.
“So,” he said finally. “You said you had some more information you wanted to share with me about the Joanna Baker case.”
“Well, it’s not exactly related to your case,” I admitted. “But it may be something you’ll find interesting. Plus, I was hoping maybe you could help me.”
“Help you how?”
I let out a sigh and told him everything I had learned about Brian, including the bit about him escaping from Pleasant Valley and possibly moving to Richmond, Web’s home turf.
“Ah,” he said when I was finished. “So you want my help in locating your newly-discovered brother?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “If you don’t mind.”
“Nah,” he said. “I’d be glad to help. You came forward with the information about Joanna Baker. I always return favors whenever I can. Give me what information you have and I’ll see what I can come up with.”
“All I know is that his name is Brian Randall Larson and he might live somewhere on Jacks Creek, here in Richmond.”
“Jacks Creek is a long road,” he said. “And from what you’ve told me, I assume he’s renting a place from someone, maybe under a different name.”
“So where on earth would you even begin?”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” he said with an irreverent smile. “I have my ways.”
“All right. I’ll trust you. And again, I appreciate your help. Have you made any progress on Joanna’s case?”
He leaned forward and crooked his finger at me for me to do the same, which I did. Then he whispered, “I can’t really discuss an ongoing investigation…on the record, anyway.”
“But off the record?”
“Off the record, the coroner’s report came back just as I was leaving the station to meet you. Turns out Joanna Baker was strangled. Probably with something soft, like a shirt or a necktie.”
“How about a scarf?” I asked, remembering the scarf that had been found in Randy’s truck.
“Well, yes. I suppose it could have been a scarf. Why do you ask?”
“No reason. Just thinking out loud. So Joanna Baker was definitely murdered?”
“Well, she was dumped along the interstate, which doesn’t exactly happen when someone dies of natural causes. Plus, the coroner confirmed it this morning, so, yes. Definitely murder.”
“Let me guess. No fingerprints, DNA, or other evidence.”
“That’s right,” Web said, nodding his head slowly. “How’d you know that?”
“It was the same with the victims of the I-75 strangler,” I told him.
“You mean…your father?”
I thought about this for a beat before answering him. When I had begun this journey, I was convinced Randy was guilty. All I had was a tiny sliver of hope that he might be innocent. Now, the more I learned, the more I began to think he really may be innocent, after all. Not only that, it was beginning to look like my brother may have been involved, at least in some small way. After all, he was the one with a violent streak and an unbalanced mind. Brian would have been in his mid-to-late twenties during the killing spree, old enough for it to be possible. But the only thorn that stuck in my paw was the fact that the odds of a father being convicted of crimes committed by his possibly unknown son were astronomical at best. Still…
“I’m not so sure anymore,” I finally decided to say.
“So you really think your father might be innocent?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “All I know is that there’s a chance that Brian could be involved. If there’s even the remotest of chances he was, that means Randy might actually be innocent.”
“Or,” Web countered with upturned palms. “They were in on it together.”
I hadn’t considered that possibility. I still hadn’t even established whether or not Randy knew that Brian even existed. All I knew was that he had been informed that Annie Larson was pregnant. Only God and Randy knew what had transpired after that. It was becoming clearer and clearer that I was soon going to have to go see Randy and confront him with everything I’d learned. But not quite yet. I wasn’t sure what was holding me back, but something in my subconscious mind was telling me to wait just a little longer.
“I guess that’s possible,” was all I said in response.
The waitress returned with our check, which Web and I fought playfully over before I finally relented and let him pay.
“Back to Joanna Baker’s murder,” Web said. “Do you think it’s possible that your brother could be involved with that?”
“It’s possible, I guess. But what on earth would be his motive? As far as we know, he didn’t know Joanna Baker from Adam.”
I realized in that instant that I felt a bit defensive of my brother whom I didn’t even know existed until very recently.
“Good point,” Web conceded. “But you did say you thought it was possible someone had followed you, or her, and saw the two of you together. Maybe whoever killed Joanna thought you were getting too close to the truth.”
“But I didn’t even talk to Joanna much about Randy’s case. We mainly talked about Randy and Annie Larson.”
“Exactly,” said Web.
“Exactly what?”
“Maybe that’s the truth you were getting too close to—learning about what happened all those years ago between your father and Annie Larson.”
“I see what you’re saying, but why would anyone kill Joanna over a nearly forty-year-old secret? I just don’t get it.”
“Me either,” he said. “But it’s an angle I’d like to pursue.”
“And you’re still going to help me find Brian, right?”
“Oh, yes,” he said. “Trust me. I’ll find Brian Larson for you. I want to talk to him myself.”
“That’s just great,” I said as I slumped against the back of the booth. “If you find him and talk to him first, he’ll get paranoid and take off again. Then I’ll never get to talk to him.”
Web seemed to ponder this for a few seconds. “I’ll let you talk to him first. How’s that for a deal?”
“I like it,” I said with a smile.
With that agreement in mind, Web and I exited the diner and walked out into the parking lot toward our respective vehicles. I had so enjoyed my time with Web, I found I was sad to see him go. But before he climbed into his cruiser, he leaned over the top of the car and yelled my name.
I turned around to see him smiling as he tossed his keys from hand to hand. “What?”
“Want to do this again some time?”
I was suddenly thankful we were no longer in close proximity, lest he see me blushing like a schoolgirl.
“But next time,” he said as he started to duck down in to his car. “Pleasure, not business.”
“I’d love that.”
***
I got back to the house in Nicholasville around noon and hollered for Harper when I opened the door.
“Up here!” she yelled from the office.
I climbed the stairs and found her sitting in the middle of the floor, files and documents circling her in neat piles.
“What on earth are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m organizing Mr. Hayes’s file, like you asked me to. Look here. I’ve already split the file into nine different sections—one for each victim. In each stack is the autopsy report and photographs of the bodies. Then over here, on Shiloh Rainwater’s file, I’ve added that Alma woman’s statement. Something doesn’t sit right with me there.”
“What do you mean?” I asked as I stepped over the files and joined her in the middle of the circle.
Harper picked up a copy of Alma’s statement and handed it to me. I noticed certain portions were highlighted with a yellow marker.
“She says she saw a man and a woman arguing near what she was certain was your father’s tractor-trailer, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And later, during the lineup, she identified Randy as the man she saw yelling at the victim.”
“Right.”
“Well, maybe I’m crazy here, but bear with me for a second. You said Alma’s blind as a bat, right? And according to her statement, she was standing by the doorway to the truck stop. Randy’s, or what we assume was Randy’s, truck was parked all the way over here.” Harper picked up an aerial photograph of the truck stop, which the police had marked with red X’s to represent where each party had been standing.
“Okay…”
“That’s a good thirty yards from the front door to here, where the truck was parked. There’s no way that blind-as-hell Alma Jean Glover could have correctly identified anybody, in the dark, from thirty yards away, even if she was wearing her glasses.”
“Yes,” I said. “I’ve already said she might have been mistaken.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t explain how she could have picked your father out of a lineup. Especially if he wasn’t there, as he claimed. Why him? Out of the six men picked for the lineup…why him? According to the police file, they had each man in the lineup put on a baseball cap, a plaid shirt, and a black down-filled vest. They would have all looked nearly identical. Yet, she picked Randy.”
Family Ties (Flesh & Blood Trilogy Book 2) Page 13