The Darkness We Hide

by Debra Webb

  For the past four months she had grown complacent. With no bodies turning up until the last few days, no contact, she had wrongly assumed Julian was dead or unable to continue his vengeful killing.

  But she had been wrong.

  He had likely never been far away. Just waiting and watching for the perfect moment to swoop in and shatter her world again. Rowan would see what this woman had to say and then she was going to take steps of her own.

  It was time she did what she had known she had to do all along. Face him. Force him to finish this.

  Except she was the one who was going to finish it.

  Ten

  Billy’s officers had stopped the exodus of folks who had been camped out in these woods and organized them into small groups to be questioned. None were happy about it, but he’d ordered a hot lunch for all who cooperated voluntarily. Most were agreeable to those terms.

  Photos of Addington had been shown but only a few admitted to having seen him around the area. Several had known Owen Utter and insisted he had been behaving strangely since his friend died back in October. A handful of people saw Utter return to the camp, though none had seen him with anyone. Not a single person on-site had seen Addington today. No one admitted to having seen anyone leave the tent where Utter’s body was found.

  Whatever happened and whoever was responsible no one had witnessed the events.

  Pryor drifted from one cluster of folks to the next, tossing out his own questions. From what Billy had overheard, his questions seemed to be focused more on Rowan’s visit than the possibility Addington had been living among these people. The man was clearly more interested in building a case against Rowan than in determining if Addington might be active again.

  The idea infuriated Billy. He wanted to punch the guy’s lights out.

  Pryor also showed a photo of Dressler but no one had seen the missing agent. Pryor wanted to tie Addington, Dressler and Rowan together with a nice, neat little bow, but that wasn’t reality.

  As if he wanted to see how far he could push Billy, the smart-ass federal agent marched up to him. Hands on hips, he surveyed the ongoing activities and shook his head.

  “A waste of time,” he announced. “This is a homeless encampment. This entire exercise is pointless.”

  “It’s a murder scene,” Billy reminded him. “A man is dead and we have an obligation to investigate his murder the same as anyone else’s.” Every hour he realized how much more he disliked Pryor.

  “My mission here—” Pryor spat the words at him “—is finding Addington. We’ve wasted enough time with this investigation. Obviously Addington murdered the man. What else is there to establish?”

  “If you’re finished here, Pryor, by all means feel free to leave.” What the hell was wrong with this guy?

  “Actually...” Pryor rounded on him. “What I really want is to question Dr. DuPont further. You wrapped up that questioning and sent her on her way before I was finished. She should be the real focus in this investigation. Addington is here for her.”

  Now he was just trying to piss Billy off. “You questioned her,” he argued. “What else did you want to know? I’m certain she’ll answer whatever other questions you have. I’m just trying to figure out what else you could possibly want to ask.”

  Pryor’s face darkened. Now he was the one pissed.

  “Are you serious?” He shook his head. “Obviously, Chief, you don’t understand how this works. DuPont is more than a mere pawn in Addington’s game. She is the game.”

  “Why don’t you explain what you believe that means?” Billy suggested. “Because I have a feeling that it means something entirely different to me.”

  “Apparently,” Pryor said, emphasizing the word, “your personal relationship is adversely affecting your ability to be objective.”

  Billy laughed. “Why don’t you stop beating around the bush and just say whatever it is you have to say, Pryor. You’re dancing all around it, and I’m here to tell you I’m not going to say it for you.”

  This was what he wanted. He wanted Billy to say the words suggesting Rowan was somehow a part of what Addington was doing. No way in hell he was going down that path. The man was out of his mind.

  “This all started with her,” Pryor said. “When she was a child. Addington has been obsessed with her all this time. They were close friends—perhaps more—for many years. Somehow we can’t get a fix on where he is and yet he seems to reach out to her with ease—right under our noses.”

  “First,” Billy said, struggling to control his anger, “Rowan is the victim. She is not facilitating him in any way. Let’s not forget that Addington murdered more than a hundred people and your fancy Bureau had no idea who he was. He was out there, killing people, for decades before Rowan ever met him. Not to mention, her father was one of his victims.”

  “As far as we know,” he argued. “We have no idea what really happened between those two.”

  Billy ordered his fingers to relax and uncurl from the hard fists they had tightened into. “You may not have any idea, but I do. I was here when Rowan was growing up.”

  “But you have no idea what she did all those years in Nashville.”

  Billy was finished with this conversation. “She helped find killers and I’m betting her success rate was a hell of a lot better than yours or your buddy Dressler’s.”

  “Chief, at this point I’m convinced that your participation in this task force hinders more than helps the investigation.”

  “Lincoln!” Billy held the other man’s gaze as he called to his detective.

  Lincoln was at Billy’s side mere seconds later. “Chief.” He looked from Billy to the other man and back. “What’s up?”

  “Pryor here seems to think my presence is a problem. I’m putting you in charge of this scene. Don’t take any orders or any BS from this guy.”

  “You got it, Chief.” Lincoln turned his attention to Pryor. “If you’ve completed your questioning, Agent Pryor, I’m going to need you and your people to leave my homicide scene.”

  Billy didn’t wait to hear Pryor’s rebuttal. He walked away, leaving the ongoing activities in Lincoln’s capable hands. Billy needed to talk to Rowan. But first he had a stop to make.

  * * *

  The Antebellum Inn was one of the oldest establishments still operating in Winchester. It had been in the same family all that time. The black sedan in the parking lot told him that Anna Prentice Addington, Julian Addington’s ex-wife, was in. The lady had taken a room here last spring when her daughter’s remains were found. She’d been in Winchester ever since, watching and waiting. Like Pryor and all the other FBI types in the investigation, the ex-wife felt certain Addington would keep coming back or would stay hidden in the area until he had gotten what he wanted.

  Presumably Rowan.

  “Over my dead body,” Billy muttered as he climbed out of his truck.

  As he entered the lobby the owner, Donna England, greeted him in her usual exuberant style. “Chief Brannigan.” She flashed him a big smile. “How’s Dottie?”

  Ms. England and Billy’s mother had gone to school together.

  “She’s doing great. Keeping Dad in line.” He removed his hat and strode over to the counter. “How have you been? I hear you got engaged at Christmas.”

  England had been married before, had grown kids, but she had been single for as long as Billy could recall. His mother always said she was waiting for Mr. Right. Evidently, the one she’d been waiting for had shown up a few months back.

  “I sure did.” She held up her hand, wiggled her fingers to show off the huge diamond engagement ring. “Getting married in July right before my birthday.”

  “Congratulations,” Billy said. “I hope he deserves you.”

  “He’s wonderful.” She sighed, her face beaming with happiness. “Speaking of happily-ever-afters, last time
I saw her, Dottie mentioned you and that pretty DuPont girl were getting serious. You two planning nuptials yet?”

  “Not yet.” Billy thought of the engagement ring he’d bought. He’d intended to propose already but then Addington had resurfaced. The bastard.

  “She’s a lucky lady,” Donna said with a nod. “You’re a good man, Billy Brannigan. Remind your momma that folks have used this inn for weddings for more than a hundred years. You and your lady feel free to do the same.”

  “Thank you, Ms. England. I appreciate the offer. Is Ms. Addington in today?” He’d seen the sedan outside, but it was well after lunch. She might be out and about with her friend the private detective. Cash Barton, a former LAPD detective, had been working to help Ms. Addington determine what had happened to her daughter for nearly three decades. Eventually their relationship had turned personal. Now they were here, living in Winchester, waiting to see what happened with her ex-husband. Billy had spoken with the woman before. So had Rowan. The ex-wife was the one to reveal her former husband’s infatuation with Rowan for longer than the FBI had known.

  Coming by today might not garner him anything new, but Billy had to try. If Addington was back in town or if he’d been here all this time lying low, maybe the ex-wife had heard from him.

  “She is,” England confirmed. “You know the room number. Her driver is in the restaurant having a late lunch and that PI fellow left about an hour ago. Right after my police scanner picked up the news about that body being found over there off Keith Springs Mountain Road.”

  So Barton was lurking around the fringes of the crime scene trying to get the details. Billy wasn’t surprised but he was annoyed that he hadn’t noticed the guy. “Thanks, Ms. England. I’ll just knock on her door and see if she’s accepting visitors.”

  “You got it, Chief.” England laughed. “And if her driver finishes lunch before you’re done, I’ll try to distract him for a while. That’ll be my contribution to your investigation.”

  Billy winked at her. “You do that. I might have to hire you for my team. I’m always looking for a sharp detective.”

  England’s laughter followed him up the stairs. At the door marked number three, he knocked.

  He faced forward as the floor creaked. He imagined the lady on the other side of the door was checking the security peephole to see if her driver had returned from lunch. Billy figured the man had his own room, but he likely checked in with his boss whenever he came and went.

  The lock rattled and the door opened. Anna Prentice Addington looked elegant as always. Her hair was pulled back from her face, fashioned in some style on the back of her head. Her eyes narrowed as if she had been expecting someone else and had no idea why Billy would stop by.

  “Chief Brannigan, what a surprise.”

  “Ma’am.” He gave her a nod. “I’d like a few minutes of your time.”

  She stepped back and opened the door wider. “Of course. Come in.”

  Billy walked into the room and waited while she closed the door behind him. When she faced him she asked, “How may I help you, Chief?”

  “You’ve probably heard we found another body this morning. That makes two in practically as many days—both appear tied to your ex-husband.”

  She folded her arms over her waist and considered his question. Billy was surprised she didn’t ask him to sit down. On his prior visits, she had always asked him to sit and offered refreshments. This time she seemed a bit offended at the topic or perhaps his use of “ex-husband.”

  “I have heard the news, yes. But I have not heard from Julian, if that’s the reason for your visit. If I had heard from him, I would have notified you immediately.”

  Billy turned his hat in his hands and decided on a different approach. “Tell me, ma’am, why do you keep staying? Not that we don’t appreciate your company, but it seems odd to me that you’ve stayed all this time. You’ve already taken your daughter’s remains back home to LA and given her a proper burial. Why not go home and live your life free of this nightmare?”

  “Like your friend,” she said, obviously meaning Rowan, “I want the whole truth. I want to know who murdered my daughter. I want to be here when Julian is captured. I want to spit in his face and laugh at the shackles he’ll wear.”

  Well, that was plain enough. “I can understand how you would feel that way.”

  “I can tell you another thing,” she said then. “The first body you found, the one on Norah’s grave. He was close to Norah, just as the man you discovered in that shabby little apartment last October was. She spoke of her protectors.”

  Confusion joined his surprise at her statement. “Norah spoke to you about this?”

  Addington threw her head back and laughed. “Of course she didn’t speak to me. These feelings and confessions were in the notes Julian kept. If the FBI hasn’t shared those case notes with you, you must insist. You’ll find them most interesting. Norah was always very open with Julian and he lived for every moment of her attention.”

  Anna Prentice Addington had insisted that Norah was once a patient of Julian’s. She claimed that was how their relationship had begun. The FBI had found notes but they weren’t sharing. Considering Billy’s current standing with Pryor he didn’t see that changing.

  “I’ll do that,” Billy said to her. “Thank you for your time, ma’am. I hope you will keep me informed. And do be careful, he may be close. You could be in danger.”

  “If I hear from him, you have my word that I’ll let you know, Chief. As for being concerned for my safety, I stopped being afraid of him long ago. I’m reasonably confident I don’t mean enough for him to go to the trouble of killing me.”

  Billy wasn’t so sure about her word or the idea that Addington represented no danger to her. With one last word of caution and another thanks, he left.

  Like her ex-husband, Anna Addington was difficult to read.

  * * *

  The viewing in parlor one for Faye Donelson was underway by the time Billy left the office. He and Lincoln had gone over every statement and each piece of evidence from the scene at the tent city. Ledbetter had packed up Mr. Utter and prepared him for transport to the lab. Cause and manner of death were obvious but there were other tests and examinations that would need to be performed.

  Ledbetter had spotted the Taser mark on Utter’s body. Like the other victim, Crash Layton, Owen Utter had been disabled before the fatal strike was delivered. In Billy’s opinion, this confirmed the murders were the work of Addington. He typically used drugs or something along those lines to disable his victims. If Billy had been fairly convinced before today that the bastard was close, he was absolutely certain now.

  Addington was close by and he wanted them to know it.

  Pryor argued the point. Some of the comments he’d made when he showed up at Billy’s office suggested he considered Dressler a suspect in these two murders. The idea was complete nonsense. Dressler was a pain in the ass and Billy didn’t care much for the guy, but the man hated Julian Addington. He would never do anything to help him. His dropping off the grid could only mean one of two things: he had either lost his mind or he believed he could better contribute to the investigation this way.

  Billy stood in the middle of the lobby, his hat in his hands, and realized that it had been a year since Addington started this bizarre game with Rowan. A year. And they were no closer to catching him than they had been 365 days ago.

  Were he and Rowan just supposed to keep putting off the rest of their lives?

  He thought of the ring in his glove box. He had wanted to propose to her already. He had considered proposing at Christmas. But their living together arrangement had still been new and they had been working out the kinks. He hadn’t wanted to push her too much at once. Rowan was terrified of putting him in danger. He sighed. Wished he could make her see that she was the one in danger. Finally, two weeks ago he had found the per
fect ring. He’d been waiting for the perfect moment and then all hell had broken loose.

  A couple entered the lobby, spoke to Billy as they passed on their way to the parlor. Judging by the number of cars in the parking lot he imagined that parlor had about reached capacity. The Donelson sisters were longtime members of the large Baptist church in town. Rowan had probably had to open the big doors between parlors one and two. Billy should sign the guest register and say hello to the family.

  He was tired but he was never too tired to do the right thing.

  He signed his name below those of the last visitors. He stepped into the parlor and, as he’d suspected, the two parlors were joined and Ms. Donelson’s casket sat front and center between the two. The rows of chairs were filled with either people or their belongings. A good number stood in the aisles chatting quietly. Music selected months ago by the sisters played softly in the background. Rowan circulated around the room greeting visitors and checking with the family to see if they needed anything.

  Billy watched her for a while, his heart beating faster each time she smiled. She wore that smoky gray suit he liked so much. She always wore a set of pink pearls with it. A smile tugged at his lips. He couldn’t wait to strip all that silky fabric and those dainty pearls off her and to hold her close.

  Her gaze met his and she smiled. The ability to breathe deserted him. She walked in his direction and he could have watched her do that all night.

  When she reached him, she searched his face, the same longing he felt shining in her eyes. She said, “Hey.”

  “Hey.” He forced air into his lungs.

  “Anything new I should know about?” She asked the question casually but the wariness that slipped into her tone was unmistakable.

  “A Taser was used on Utter the same way it was on Layton.”

  She nodded, then shook her head. “What does Pryor have to say about this? As if he didn’t say enough at the scene.”

  “Yeah, well, if it makes you feel any better, I had to work extra hard at not punching the guy today.”