by A J Rivers
"I sent her boyfriend to prison," I tell him. "On this date, four years ago. Only, no one even knew there was a girlfriend at the time."
"Because he loved me," Sarah snaps, her expression getting more contorted and painful. "He took care of me. He still does. That's why I'm here. No one should have believed you. No one should have ever listened to you. And after this, they'll realize how wrong they were. Travis did nothing wrong. His wife left him. She broke his heart. What happened to her after that was her fault. But you made everyone believe it was him."
"It was him," I counter. "And no amount of trying to discredit me is going to change that. He murdered his wife. Then he dug her up and moved her."
"No," she insists, shaking her head. "And when everyone sees just how unhinged you are, they'll give him a new trial, and he'll come home. He'll come back to me, and we'll be able to have the life we always planned."
"You seriously think you were special to him? That in all the world, you are the one unique being who understood him and who saved him from the dredges of an unhappy marriage?" I’m not able to keep the taunt out of my voice.
"Yes. We loved each other. What we had was rare and beautiful. We shared something we had never experienced with anyone else."
Her knife presses deeper into Pamela's neck, and I shift my weight, subtly gesturing to Sam to start moving around to the back so he could help her. He sinks back, getting out of Sarah's sight, so she focuses completely on me.
"Really?" I ask. "Tell me something, Sarah, who do you think helped him make the phone calls?"
She looks confused, and I notice the grip on Pamela lessens slightly.
"What phone calls?" she asks.
"When Travis was pretending Mia ran off, he made sure the police believed it by staging phone calls and text messages. You know very well you can manipulate the number that shows up when someone calls or even control a phone remotely. You might even realize there are ways you can prevent a phone from being tracked. One thing you can't fake is the location of the phone when calls are made and received. It's on your phone bills. Travis knew this, so he faked them. He brought Mia’s phone out into the woods near his family's cabin, then in some unused land they owned, then in a car glove compartment sent to Canada. He made calls and sent texts, then they got responses from his phone, tracked directly to his phone. He obviously couldn't be in two places at once. Someone was on the other end of that phone sending the calls and texts, and someone drove the car to Canada. Who do you think it was?"
Sarah lets out a furious growl and draws the knife across Pamela's throat in a tight slash before shoving her into the shallow grave she dug. She lunges at me with the knife, and I pull the trigger.
Chapter Fifty
“It was my first case as an agent,” I say. “Travis Burke reported his wife missing a few months after I officially joined the Bureau. According to him, she just disappeared one day. Everything was going along normally, and they were fine, then when he came home from work one day, she was just gone. He couldn’t find her and didn't have any trace of where she might be. The police were suspicious, but there was nothing they could do.
“There was no evidence of anything happening to her. Everything lined up. He said that she liked to spend a lot of her time in her art studio, which was actually a small apartment. He said she would go there for days at a time to work on her new projects and that it never bothered him because he knew it was an outlet for her. That's how he covered it. He killed her days before he reported her missing, but no one could track it because she had a routine of going to her studio and being there for several days without talking to anyone. He planned everything meticulously. He made sure to get rid of her clothes and toiletries discreetly and then said they were missing. Of course, the police searched the house and her studio and didn't find the things that were missing. So, to anyone looking in, it looked like she just left.”
“Why would he do that?” Sam asks. “What was the motivation behind killing her?”
“That's the thing. Nobody could figure out why he would want to kill her. It all came down to life insurance. People believe that he killed her to collect on the policy they took out on each other when they got married. But Burke was already wealthy. There would be no reason for him to go through all that effort just to collect on such a comparatively small amount of money. Besides, if he wanted the life insurance, why would he pretend she left? Life insurance isn't to ensure the type of life you expect to have. You can't file a claim because your wife walks out on you, and so the life you knew was over. He would only be able to collect the money if she was dead and they could produce a body. One that didn't look like it was murdered,” I explained. “That's why when Creagan put me on the case, I knew something was going on.”
“Why did he choose you? You just said it was your first case. You were brand new. Why would he put you on something like this?” Sam asks.
“He didn't think much of it, to be honest. It wasn't like it was a serial killer or a mass theft. It was fascinating, in that this woman seems to have just left and was leaving a trail for people to follow. I was intrigued by the idea of a man crafting the idea of his wife leaving him, not to cover up the murder he had already committed accidentally, but to prepare for one. But that was nothing.
“The police had already investigated so extensively, and he never tripped up. Burke was cold, in a way I don't even know how to fully describe. It was like someone had taken a real person and preserved just the first few outer layers so they could wrap it around a core of ice. He looked friendly and even attractive. He was able to smile and charm people. He was so open and cooperative. But not too much. Sometimes people are too cooperative. They offer themselves up, and it turns suspicion onto themselves. That's not the way it was with him. He didn't offer his house to be searched until the police brought him a search warrant. The same with his truck. He didn't offer to bring them out to any of his properties until the police told him they uncovered the properties. Everything was done on their terms, but with him going along.
“It was a masterful plan. People trusted him. He seemed honest and genuine. Even more than that, he seemed like a man broken by the idea of the wife he loved so desperately being gone.”
Sam crosses his arms and scratches his neck. “So, what you're saying is he didn't think you were going to figure it out.”
“Or, he didn't think there was anything to figure out. To this day, I partially think Creagan wanted to believe Burke. He got charmed by him too. He was everything Creagan would want to be. Young, dynamic, wealthy. There was no way Creagan wanted to admit that he would do something horrible. So, it became my challenge. One of the first things that came to mind was that he was doing this for a reason, and it was so much more than life insurance or not wanting to be with his wife anymore. He had plenty of money and would have been just fine. But he wanted to craft this disappearance to cover up murdering her for a specific reason.
“That's when I started to think there had to be a girlfriend. If he had another woman to impress. Or another few women to impress, he wouldn't want his wife around. But he's also not going to risk going to prison. So, he did what wealthy, entitled men do, and came up with a story. One that seems possible. But we couldn't find any sign of a girlfriend. There was no unusual credit card activity. There were no surveillance videos of him going into hotels or motels with anyone. All the ways we would usually track an affair, he cleared right through.”
“What is it about the truck? You said as soon as you saw it in the garage, you knew it had some sort of significance,” Sam says.
“Yes, the truck,” I nod. “One of the big parts of the investigation was searching his truck. Which, of course, was the truck he had at the time his wife disappeared. The police in charge of the investigation scoured that truck over and over to the best of their ability. They used dogs and luminol. They went over it with tweezers. They did absolutely everything to find anything suspicious. But there wasn't anything there. By the time
I became a part of the case, he had a new truck. He got it almost a year after his wife disappeared, so none of the investigators put any thought into searching it.
But there were so many things that did not add up to me. Ground disturbances and tire patterns and just details I couldn't put together. So, I went back to thinking about his new truck. Just because something's been hidden doesn't mean it can't be hidden again. The truck was searched by cadaver dogs who were able to alert on the smell of human remains. From there, he just started to crumble. We eventually learned he had been putting these plans into place for quite a long time. When he was ready, he slit her throat, put her in a large storage container, and encased her in concrete at the edge of a piece of land his family-owned.”
“Jesus,” Sam mutters under his breath.
“He left her there for months. Then, he decided to move her. He didn't want to call too much attention, and he knew investigators were closing in on his properties. So, he used his new truck to bring tools that would break through the concrete, then hauled her out. He wanted to go somewhere he didn't think anybody would try to find her. So, he buried her in a shallow grave in the family plot on his family's land.”
“How did you realize it was Sarah?” Sam asks.
“I knew everything had to be connected. There was just no way so many things were happening just coincidentally. But that meant it had to be somebody who knew about my cases. And in order to do that, you have to put in some research. I figured out they were doing my cases, and the truck struck a chord. That's not his truck. His truck was confiscated and impounded. But it's similar. Similar enough to almost look like it. It made me think about Burke and what he said about criminals being overconfident. During one of his interviews, he told me criminals always slip up. All that matters is if the police officer is smart enough to find it. And usually, it's because they went too far.
“Her creating those fake death documents was going too far. I'll admit they were convincing, but they were too splashy. It gave me visual confirmation of who I thought was Ruby Baker. Evidence I could show other people. When I found the picture of the courtroom from Travis’s trial, I saw her in the background. I’d never noticed her before. Not any of the times I looked at the pictures, and not when I was there. They didn't speak to each other. They didn't look at each other. It was like she had just wandered in and was listening. She looks different now, significantly. But I knew her.”
“You're incredible,” Sam mutters, shaking his head.
“Not enough to save Nicole. Or Arnold Brown. If I figured it out faster, they would still be here. Caleb and Eva and Gloria would have been safe. Kevin wouldn't have had to go through it.”
“You saved us,” a powdery voice from the bed between me and Sam says. “Nobody else could have done that.”
I look down to see Pamela. The hospital bed supports her head, and all the tubes and bandages around her neck make me want to quiet her and tell her to just keep sleeping. But I'm also glad to see her awake.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“It hurts,” she says. “But it's getting better. I'm just thankful it wasn't any deeper.”
“Me, too,” I smile.
Pamela was able to shift just in time to prevent the bulk of the knife blade from cutting into her throat. It's sliced cleanly through her skin, which bled gruesomely, but she's been recovering well.
“How is Kevin?” she asks.
“He had his first hearing,” Sam says. “He explained everything and is completely willing to cooperate. I think he has a good chance.”
“I don't understand, Pamela. Why have an affair with him? Why not find a relationship of your own?”
“He was exciting and made me feel good,” she says. “When you're with somebody for a long time, it's easy to get into a pattern. You lose those butterflies. You don't always want to touch each other anymore. But that's not how it was with Kevin. Because we couldn't be together all the time, that excitement stayed. He’s handsome and kind and always treated me nicely. We were always excited to see each other; we were always thrilled when we got to be near each other. We got butterflies.”
“But he's married,” I say. “It could never be real.”
“I know,” she says. “But I never let myself think about that. I just kept riding the wave, and I figured one day, it would drop me. I didn't realize just how hard that drop was going to be.”
“Why did you lie about being driven off the road?” I ask.
“Because I didn't know what was going on. I saw the car and automatically assumed it was Kevin. And it started acting so erratically, and I was afraid. When we went into that neighborhood, I realized it was that woman. Then I had to think about why she was in his car. It was just too much, and I didn't want to open up about it.”
I nod. “That makes sense. The relationship was already so fraught and secretive, you couldn’t risk letting anyone in on it.”
“I think it was in part because of Ruby. I could never fully trust anyone. My marriage went up in flames. It was horrible. Then after her death, I just couldn’t imagine feeling any more pain even close to that. So I chose a man who I would never get fully invested in because he would never be fully mine to have. I tried to improve things and ended up making them so much worse.”
“That’s not true. This isn’t your fault,” I say.
“I brought Sarah in,” she points out. “Why do you think she chose Ruby? I think of all the things she could have done to mess with your head and make you look like you were slipping into oblivion, why did she have to choose Ruby?”
“I think it fit into her narrative,” I offer. “She read about her death, and it seemed like a plausible story. Since she was already blackmailing Kevin, including you, was just an added layer. The tragedy of Ruby appealed to her. It was easy to make somebody accept her when she was presenting such a terrible story. And she already knew that Kevin worked with Davis Landscaping Solutions and was with you. Derrick keeps the keys to the properties in the cupboard, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be copied when they are out. So Kevin could access the property across the street from me and make it look like she lived there without anyone noticing. It also gave him access to my house. The two of them worked together. Whether he knew what he was doing or not, he had a major hand in it. I'm sorry you ended up being dragged into this.”
“It's not your fault,” Pamela says. “I'm just glad you stopped her before she could have gone any further.”
“I took too long. There wouldn't have been any further, because that was my first case. I'm glad she didn't succeed in killing you, but there's really not much more she could have done.”
“Not her,” Pamela says. “Her big vision might have been to use your cases against you, but she lost herself in twisting your reality. She would have just kept going. But you didn’t back down, even when it seemed like there was no way. You saved a lot of people.”
“Thank you,” I say.
Sam laughs. “I never thought I'd see the day.”
Epilogue
“Have I told you recently how beautiful you are and how happy I am to have you in my life?” Sam asks.
I look over my shoulder at him and laugh as I close the cabinet.
“Are you talking to me or to the cinnamon roll?”
“Is it wrong if I say both?” he asks.
“Not at all. I feel pretty happy to have them in my life, too.”
Sam gets up and comes over to me. He wraps one arm around me and feeds me a chunk of a cinnamon roll with the other hand.
“And I am extremely happy to have you in my life,” he grins. “I don't know if I can ever tell you that enough.”
“Well, I don't mind hearing it. You can say it as much as you'd like.”
“I am extremely happy to have you in my life,” he whispers again.
I smile and kiss him. It's been two months since Sarah's reign of terror, and Sam and I are still clinging to each other, recovering from almost being torn apart
. We both agree my temporary leave from the FBI isn't really a leave anymore. I'm not just in Sherwood to visit or until I've gotten over everything. I never will get over it all. This is my life and it will continue to affect me for the rest of my life.
I adore my work with the Bureau and don't want to give it up completely, but right now, this is where I need to be. Working more with the Sherwood Police Department is giving me the fulfillment I'm looking for, and Creagan still knows he can call me if he needs me. All I know is whatever the day brings me, I want to talk it over with Sam at the end of it. And whatever else needs figuring out, I know that we can do it together.
He's slowly backing me toward the hallway to the bedroom when the doorbell stops him. He looks at me strangely.
“Are you expecting someone?” he asks.
“No,” I frown.
He opens the door and I see him stoop down to scoop something out from the porch. He looks down at it, then looks back and forth up and down the street.
“This is all that's out there,” he tells me, looking slightly mystified.
My breath catches slightly when I read the return address.
“It's from Feathered Nest,” I tell him.
“What is it?” he asks.
I open the envelope and pull out a piece of paper folded once down the middle.
Emma, it's urgent I see you. I'll meet you at the station when you arrive.
I reach back into the envelope and pull out what's left. I hold it up for Sam to see.
“It's a train ticket.”
The End
Dear Reader,
Wow, we made it to the fourth book. I'm running out of gas but I need to re-fuel and continue pressing on. I appreciate your continued support! No worries if this is the first book you read, you can checkout the rest by clicking here it will take you to my author page on Amazon and they can all be read as standalones.