by Lynn Shannon
“Why didn’t we find Nolan during our initial search?” Avery asked.
“Because Jack was a teenager when Nolan was born. Nolan’s mother died in childbirth, and he was adopted and raised by his maternal grandparents. They lived in Houston, but according to the extended family, Nolan would travel to Union County often to visit his father. Unfortunately, the grandparents are both deceased.” Weston sighed. “And, it seems, Nolan may be too.”
Avery blinked, certain she’d misheard him. “I’m sorry. Excuse me?”
“Nolan was sentence to a long stint in prison—twenty years, in fact—after he kidnapped and assaulted a college student. With credit for good behavior, he got out early and was placed on parole. Six months later, he failed to show up for a meeting with his parole officer. Police were sent to his address. They found a huge amount of blood in the kitchen and evidence of a struggle.”
“But no body?”
“No. They classified it as missing, presumed dead. According to the detective I spoke to, it was impossible for Nolan to have survived.” He held up a finger in anticipation of her next question. “They did a DNA test and confirmed the blood was Nolan’s.”
She bit into her chocolate and chewed furiously. “When did this happen?”
“Three years ago.” Weston tossed his wrapper in the trash. “The extended family I spoke to haven’t heard from Nolan since.”
“Seems awfully convenient.” Whoever was committing these murders was smart and understood police procedure. The Chessmaster was capable of faking his own death. “What do we know about the kidnapping and assault Nolan was convicted of?”
“He stalked and terrorized a college student for almost a year before he broke into her home and attacked her. Nolan attempted to strangle her with a rope, but her roommate came home early from work because she was sick, and the two women were able to escape.”
“Sounds similar to the assault Nolan’s dad, Jack, committed.”
Weston nodded. “About that. We finally located Beverly Wilkins’s case file. It makes for interesting reading. Your friend Calvin was right. The sheriff’s department covered up Mike’s incident with the patrol car. The case file reports the evidence was stolen but doesn’t say how. Your dad, Kenneth, never let up on the case.”
“That’s not surprising.” She tossed her own candy wrapper in the trash. “My dad was as stubborn as I am.”
Weston briefly smiled before his expression grew serious again. “Jack Starin learned the evidence from the assault had been stolen. He started stalking and terrorizing his victim, Beverly. Kenneth worked hard to protect her, but the stalking laws twenty years ago were nonexistent. He pulled Jack in for questioning but got nowhere. Kenneth followed Jack, trying to catch him in violation of the law, anything he could do to keep the man in jail and away from Beverly.”
“The Chessmaster mentioned last night that his father and mine had battled it out. That’s what he was talking about.”
“Yes. Jack broke into Beverly’s home, cutting himself in the process. He left fingerprints and blood behind. It was the break your dad needed. When Kenneth showed up to arrest him, Jack opened fire. Your dad’s life was threatened. He returned fire and Jack was killed.”
Avery let out a breath. “And now Nolan wants revenge. What was the word he used? A rematch.”
“Or someone wants us to think he does.”
She reared back. “What do mean?”
He was quiet for a long moment. “It would be easy for Mike Steel to point us in this direction. He had access to all of the files and could’ve kept tabs on Nolan.”
She let out a long breath. Weston was right. “Has anyone questioned Mike about where he was last night?”
“His lawyer refuses to allow any questioning. He also won’t consent to a search of Mike’s house, and we don’t have enough evidence to get a warrant. I got permission for undercover officers to watch Mike after our initial conversation with him yesterday, but they arrived after Rachel went missing.”
She rose from her chair and walked over to the window behind her desk. Beyond the glass, people rushed by on the sidewalk. Their umbrellas fluttered in the wind. She wanted to protect every female on campus but felt powerless to do so.
Lord, every step forward is another step back. Please, help me.
Weston came up next to her. He didn’t try to make her feel better with false pretenses. Instead, he was quiet, his broad shoulders squared, his mouth firmly set. It was something she was coming to rely on. His strength and partnership. The knowledge that every frustration she had about this case, he shared. And it made her feel less lonely at a time where guilt and worry might’ve eaten her alive.
Avery took a deep breath. “Okay, so there are two strong options. One possibility is that Nolan faked his own death and has come back to Union County in some twisted effort to get revenge for his father’s death. The second possibility is that the murders are being committed by Mike, who’s pretending to be Nolan, hoping we’ll spend our time chasing a dead man.”
“That sums it up. Grady and Luke are reworking the two murders from scratch, along with Rachel’s abduction. They’re looking for a connection to Mike or anything that would lead to a new suspect.”
“Then you and I should stay with Nolan. Let’s assume he faked his own death.” Avery took a step backward and leaned against her desk. “If Nolan wanted to move back to Union County and not be recognized, he’d have plastic surgery to change his appearance. He’d obtain a fake ID. Essentially, he’d wipe the slate clean.”
Weston nodded. “With the right surgeon, he could look completely different. Nolan could be anyone.”
“Does he have the funds for that?”
“He does. Nolan inherited a lot of money from his maternal grandparents. According to the family members I spoke to, the money was moved to an offshore account.”
They really were chasing a ghost. Avery rubbed her forehead. “What do we know about Nolan’s activities here in Union County?”
“Not much. After Jack died, Nolan never came back. However, he was arrested a few times here in his twenties.”
“What for?”
Weston reached around her and pulled over his file folder. “Once for drugs. A couple of times for petty theft. He never served jail time.”
“Anyone get arrested with him?”
Weston frowned. “Yeah, one guy. Tom Belvin. I was about to run him through the system—”
She shot to her feet. “No need. I know who he is. Tom Belvin is the mailman we talked to outside of Debra’s house. What were Nolan and Tom arrested for?”
“That was the drug charge. Officer pulled them over for a traffic stop and found marijuana in the car.”
Her mind raced, different possibilities pulling at her attention. “Who was the arresting officer?”
Weston flipped the page. His mouth tightened. “Mike Steel.”
Weston followed Avery through the Union County Post Office to the sorting room. His boots tapped against the sealed concrete floor. The building was chilly, and the postal worker leading them to Tom Belvin wore fingerless gloves.
“Hey, Tom.” She knocked on the open doorway frame. “You’ve got visitors.” The worker turned to Weston and whispered, “I’ll make sure no one comes back here for the next fifteen minutes.”
“Appreciate it.” He gave a sharp nod before stepping into the room.
It was windowless, the fluorescent lights overhead creating harsh brights and shadows. Tom paused, his hand hovering over a bucket of mail. It appeared he was sorting his portion for delivery.
“Hi, Avery.” Tom’s brow crinkled. “And…Weston, right?”
“Good memory.” Weston smiled, attempting to put the other man at ease. “Sorry to interrupt you while you’re working, but there have been developments in Debra’s case. We wanted to talk to you again.”
“I heard about her boyfriend Victor Haas on the news.” Tom placed some letters into the carton. “If you’re looking for
additional information about him, I can’t tell you anything more.”
“We need to ask about someone else. Nolan Starin.”
Tom froze before slowly turning to face them. “Isn’t he dead?”
Weston studied the other man. There was something in the curve of his mouth and the furrow of his brow. Forced surprise, maybe? Tom’s reaction didn’t come off as genuine.
“Technically, he’s classified as missing.” Weston left out the presumed-dead part. He wanted to gauge how much Tom knew. “When’s the last time you saw or spoke to Nolan?”
His gaze darted to Avery before focusing back on Weston. “Uhhh, musta been close to twenty years now.”
“Then why did you think he was dead?”
“My mom. She’s a news junky and all over social media. She read about it or something and mentioned it to me. But I swear, Mom told me Nolan was dead. Why are you asking about him?” He stiffened. “Is this connected to the murders? Another woman was taken this morning, right? I saw it on TV.”
Avery showed him a photograph of Rachel Long. “Do you know her?”
Tom fiddled with a button on his uniform as his gaze dropped to the picture. “Yeah, that’s Rachel. She works at the crisis center. When I deliver certified letters, sometimes she’ll sign for them.”
A knot formed in Weston’s stomach. Tom admitted knowing Debra Channing and now Rachel Long. He’d been friends with Nolan twenty years ago. That gave him person-of-interest status. Maybe he was the one pinning these murders on Nolan.
“You mentioned the last time you saw or spoke to Nolan was twenty years ago,” Weston said, keeping his tone casual. “That was around the time his father, Jack Starin, died.”
Tom grabbed some more letters and tossed them in the bucket without looking at them. “Yeah.”
“Were you and Nolan good friends?”
“Nolan didn’t have friends.” Tom’s mouth hardened. “He was a bully and a creep. When he left town, it was a blessing.”
“Why is that?” Weston asked.
Tom’s hand tightened on the mail bucket. “Because Nolan was one scary guy. Even back then when we were young. His dad, well, you know what he did. Attacking a woman and nearly killing her. What’s that old saying? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. That was Nolan. He was a killer in training.”
Avery tilted her head. “If Nolan was so terrifying, why did you hang out with him?”
Tom’s shoulders sagged, and he scrubbed a hand through his thinning blond hair. “My parents were good people, but I got mixed up in the wrong crowd in high school. Nolan didn’t live in Union County, but he spent the summers here. He was incredibly smart and excellent at manipulating people.” He drew in a breath. “Nolan wanted me to steal from my parents. I refused. The next day, my dog…my dog was nailed to a tree in my backyard. He’d been torn apart. Nolan did it to teach me a lesson. Once you were in his web, it was impossible to get out.”
“Why didn’t you report him to the police?” Avery asked.
“Because the police wouldn’t have been able to protect me or my family, and Nolan would only do something worse. Instead, I did what he said and didn’t ask questions.”
There was a raw thread of fear running through Tom’s voice. Weston wasn’t immune to it. He softened his stance. “How did Nolan react when his dad died?”
“He was furious and talked about getting revenge.” Tom glanced at Avery, and a pained look came over his face. “Every scenario involved your dad.”
“Except Nolan never acted on his threats,” Avery said. “Why do you think that is?”
“Honestly, Nolan was scared of your dad. Don’t get me wrong, Nolan was dangerous. But he was only twenty and had a healthy fear of prison. His dad, Jack, told him horror stories about jail and swore he’d never go back.”
Weston was getting mixed signals from Tom. In one breath, he was terrified of Nolan; in the next, he shared family stories. “Did you spend a lot of time with Nolan and his dad?”
Tom shrugged. “Enough. Like I said, I was young and stupid.”
Yeah, definitely mixed signals. Why would Tom hang out with Nolan if he was terrified of him? Victim and abuser could sometimes be a complicated relationship, and it sounded like Nolan was emotionally and mentally abusing Tom. The dog story demonstrated that. Still, something was off.
“What else can you tell us about Jack?” he asked.
“Well, Jack took pleasure in taunting the police. Jack and Nolan used to strategize on the next move. They both thought they were smarter than the cops.” Tom rocked back on his heels. “I’m happy to say they were wrong.”
Avery frowned. “Hold on, so you knew Jack had assaulted Beverly and you never went to the police?”
She tried to hide her disgust, but Weston heard the vibration of it in her voice. He shared her feelings.
Tom glared at her. “Didn’t you hear me say earlier that Nolan killed my dog? Nolan worshipped his father. If I went to the police and reported Jack, Nolan would’ve killed me. No question.” He grabbed the bucket of mail and lifted it off the counter. “Now, I really need to go. I’m late.”
He pushed past them, and this time, Weston let him. Tom paused in the doorway. “Do you really think Nolan could be back in town, murdering women?”
“Is he capable of faking his own death and creating a new identity?” Avery asked. “Smart enough to evade the police? Cruel enough to kill?”
Tom took a shaky breath. “The answer to all of that is yes. And if Nolan is behind this, then Avery, you should be careful. He didn’t get revenge on your dad, but Nolan’s older now. I wouldn’t put it past him to try his hand with you.”
Sixteen
Weston chugged his fifth cup of coffee and studied the whiteboard. It was Friday evening. Rachel had been missing for nineteen hours, and they were no closer to finding her.
Beside him, Avery briefly touched her temple. Probably nursing another headache. Harrison University’s open house was underway, and while Avery had delegated much of the work for the event, security issues had come up. Weston had done his best to help shoulder the burden, but it wasn’t enough. There were shadows under Avery’s eyes and her complexion was pale.
Grady, along with Emilia, walked into the conference room. Both looked as exhausted as Weston felt. Grady had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up and hadn’t shaved since yesterday. Emilia’s hair was pulled back into a messy bun. They carried takeaway coffee cups.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Grady said. “Let’s jump right in. We got a break in Rachel’s case. A neighbor saw a delivery van on Rachel’s street half an hour before she was taken. Considering the lateness of the hour, he wrote down the license plate.”
Weston straightened. “And?”
“The plates were stolen from long-term parking at Austin-Bergstrom International Airport. We questioned Marianne’s neighbors again. One remembered a delivery van on her street as well. A white van with Texas plates and a small company logo on the side. We traced the van from a gas station security camera. Different plates than the van on Rachel’s street. Also stolen. The company logo had been changed.”
“He’s one step ahead of us,” Avery said. “The logo is probably a stick on. He can switch them, along with plates.”
Emilia nodded. “This is pretty detailed planning. I believe the killer has knowledge of law enforcement procedures. Additionally, Harrison University is a comfortable space for him, and so is Union County.”
“What do you mean by comfortable?” Avery asked.
“Leaving Debra in the classroom and Marianne at your house was risky. The killer had to be familiar with both spaces, and confident enough to believe he wouldn’t get caught. Either he grew up here or has lived in town for a while.” Emilia swept a hand across her forehead, knocking the bangs out of her eyes. “We’re looking for a white male, thirty to fifty. He has intimate knowledge about Jack Starin’s death. The killer is intelligent, organized, and a chess fan.”
W
eston scanned the whiteboard and the photographs of the women. He pointed to Rachel. “What chess piece does she represent? Debra was a pawn and Marianne a rook. Is Rachel a knight?”
Emilia shook her head. “A knight is a soldier, so no. I think Rachel is a bishop. In medieval times, bishops were influential. Rachel worked at the crisis center, mostly doing fundraising. She’s a people person and successful in getting donations.”
“Let’s look at our top three suspects using Emilia’s profile,” Grady said. “There’s Nolan Starin. Missing and presumed dead, based on the evidence found in his apartment, including signs of a struggle and large amounts of blood. I’ve seen the DNA report and can confirm the blood is Nolan’s. None of his cousins or old friends have heard from him since the day he went missing. There’s no indication he’s alive. Of course, that doesn’t wipe him off the suspect list, but it’s more likely the real killer is using Nolan as a scapegoat.”
Avery’s brow creased. “If Nolan faked his death for the specific purpose of enacting revenge, he’d avoid contacting his friends or family. He has a violent criminal history, including stalking and strangling women in a manner similar to our victims.”
“Those are good points, Avery,” Emilia said. “And normally I would argue Nolan should be our top suspect. Problem is, Nolan had years to come after you but didn’t. What triggered him now?”
“My move home. I arrived in town six months ago. There were articles in the local newspaper announcing my position with Harrison University.”
Grady frowned. “It’ll be difficult to track individuals who moved to town six months ago, but we could take a pass at new students and faculty. If Nolan is using a fake ID, we might spot an inconsistency.” He made a note on the whiteboard.