First Girl Gone: An absolutely addictive crime thriller with a twist (Detective Charlotte Winters Book 1)

by L. T. Vargus

  He reached for her, but she dodged his grasp.

  “Come on, Charlie. He didn’t kill Allie. And he didn’t do this.”

  “How do you know?” Charlie asked, crossing her arms.

  “Because there’s no evidence. None. Even you have to see that.”

  “No evidence? I found a girl’s body today with her feet chopped off. If that’s not evidence, then what is?”

  Will sighed, his shoulders slumping.

  “Leroy is my cousin, Charlie. I felt a duty to make sure he gets a fair shake.”

  She frowned.

  “You never told me that.”

  “I didn’t think it was important. If I’d known this was coming, of course I would have mentioned it. I imagine you’re feeling blindsided by all of this.”

  “You think?” she said, not able to hide the venom in her voice.

  “Look, we’re not close. But he is family. You have to understand my dilemma.”

  Charlie felt her hackles rise at that. She leaned closer, her voice practically a hiss.

  “You don’t get to talk to me about family. Allie was my sister. My best friend.” She reached out and jabbed him in the chest with her finger. “You’re representing the man who took her from me.”

  She turned, heading back for the observation room.

  “Don’t be like this. I’m a lawyer. This is what I do.”

  She pushed through the door, not turning back. The closing door mostly swallowed Will’s voice, which had gone soft.

  “I’m sorry, Charlie. I really am.”

  Charlie clenched her molars so tightly that her jaw was starting to ache, but she didn’t even notice until Zoe tapped her arm.

  “Are you OK?”

  Forcing her jaw to relax, Charlie gave a curt nod.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’m sure Will felt like he had to do it,” Zoe said. “Represent Leroy, I mean. For the family.”

  Zoe was using her mother hen voice again, her tone sounding like someone trying to soothe a child after a nightmare.

  When Charlie didn’t answer, Zoe went on.

  “He changed a lot after his mom died, you know?”

  Charlie remembered dully that Will’s mom had died when he was quite young—twelve or thirteen, before Charlie had known him well. Representing Gibbs made sense on that level, she supposed, though it wasn’t any easier to stomach.

  “Anyway, I can imagine him feeling some sense of obligation because of all that,” Zoe was saying, but Charlie was only half paying attention now because Will had re-entered the interrogation room.

  “I’ve advised my client not to answer any questions,” he said as he sat down. Several people scoffed or clicked their tongues in the observation room before Will went on. “But he’s made it clear to me that he wants to cooperate and is doing so of his own volition, despite my protests.”

  Charlie couldn’t help but notice the homogeneous body language being presented on the police side of the glass, the uniformed officers mostly tucking their thumbs in their belts while the suits—detectives and various administrators—had to sweep back the sides of their jackets to rest their hands on their hips instead.

  In any case, all eyes latched onto the mirrored glass pane like it was a flat-screen at a Super Bowl party.

  The detective seated across from Will and Gibbs fingered a manila folder open and slid out a photograph. It was one of Allie’s senior pictures, the one where she was sprawled on her stomach in the grass, clutching a handful of dandelion seed heads.

  Charlie felt her insides twist into a knot.

  “Do you remember being questioned about the disappearance of Allison Winters, Mr. Gibbs?”

  Will sighed.

  “I hope you didn’t drag us down here just to bring up ancient history, Detective Siebold.”

  “Are you gonna let him answer?”

  Rolling his eyes, Will waved his hand.

  “Go ahead, Mr. Gibbs.”

  “I remember. But I didn’t…” Gibbs broke off and lowered his head.

  “Didn’t what?”

  “I didn’t hurt her,” he muttered.

  “But you knew her, didn’t you?”

  After a long pause, Gibbs nodded. The knot in Charlie’s middle squeezed a little tighter.

  “In fact, the weekend before Allison Winters disappeared, she and some friends chartered a boat that you captained, isn’t that right?”

  His fingers twitched and fidgeted, squeezing into fists and then releasing.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And what did you think about Allison when you saw her?”

  “I didn’t think nothin’.”

  “No? You didn’t think anything of this beautiful eighteen-year-old girl in a bikini?” Detective Siebold held up the photo again, almost daring Gibbs to look at it.

  “There was a bunch of ’em. They all were.”

  Detective Siebold frowned, confused.

  “All were what?”

  “All the girls were in the bathing suits. Wasn’t just her. They all wore ’em.”

  Charlie got the sense that Gibbs didn’t fully grasp what was happening here, as though he was distant not just from social normality but from actual reality.

  “I told you, guys,” one of the men in the observation room grumbled. “He’s just laying the groundwork for an insanity plea. Wait and see.”

  The detective in the next room laced his fingers together on the table and looked Gibbs in the eye.

  “Yes, but you took particular notice of Allison, didn’t you?”

  Gibbs shook his head.

  “You didn’t ask her if she wanted to steer the boat?”

  Charlie watched the man’s chest move up and down as he breathed. He murmured something unintelligible.

  “What’s that?”

  “I thought she was pretty,” Gibbs said.

  Charlie thought he sounded sad when he said it. Like it was some great sin to have thought her sister pretty.

  “Sick fuck,” one of the observers said in a low voice.

  Gaze flitting about the observation room now, Charlie noted the way almost everyone leaned in toward the glass. They were enjoying this, she thought, the way one might enjoy a movie or a play. Stimulated. She felt a pang of pity for the man on the other side of the window, and then, almost as quickly, a wave of disgust. Was she really feeling empathy for the man who had very likely murdered her sister?

  “You thought she was pretty,” Detective Siebold repeated. “That’s right. And then what?”

  Staring blankly, Gibbs said nothing.

  “What happened after the boat ride ended? After you realized you probably wouldn’t ever have a chance to talk to Allison again? Did you start thinking of ways you might see her again?”

  Gibbs shook his head again, and Detective Siebold angled his chin a notch higher.

  “So just to be clear, you didn’t kidnap Allison Winters? You didn’t kill her and dismember her body?”

  The palm of Will’s hand came down on the table.

  “Look, Mr. Gibbs has agreed to talk with you. But this is the same line of questioning my client went through back then. You had nothing then and you have nothing now. Either give us something new, something you haven’t already asked him a hundred times, or this interview is over.”

  The detective nodded and pulled two new photos from the folder—snapshots of Kara Dawkins and Amber Spadafore. Smiles on their faces. Eyes twinkling.

  Charlie visualized Amber Spadafore laid out on the coroner’s table, her porcelain skin fish-belly-white against the hard steel. She tried to stop herself from imagining the scalpel slicing into the pallid skin, peeling it away to reveal the red underneath, but the images came whether she wanted them or not.

  She closed her eyes and heard Detective Siebold ask his next question.

  “Have you ever seen either of these girls?”

  Eyes darting from one grinning face to the next, Gibbs looked bewildered.

  “Never se
en ’em.”

  “No?” The detective’s eyebrows crept up his forehead. “Not even around town? Maybe at the supermarket or the gas station?”

  Gibbs moved his head from side to side.

  “You didn’t—”

  “Come on, Jerry,” Will said, interrupting. “I won’t sit here and allow you to badger him like this. You asked if he knows or has seen either girl, and he said no. Twice. Move on.”

  The detective nodded, his mouth a tight smile. His fingers snaked into the manila folder a third time and came out with a photo of Amber Spadafore’s body on the beach. It was a particularly grisly shot—a close-up of the mutilated legs ending in bloody stumps.

  Gibbs recoiled, sliding back in his chair and shutting his eyes tight. Charlie couldn’t help but think of a child turning away from a particularly gory scene in a horror movie. Was it an act, or was he genuinely that repulsed by the image?

  Will was on his feet in an instant, red in the face, shouting about shock tactics.

  Charlie’s attention was diverted from the spectacle by Zoe taking a firm hold of her arm and pulling her toward the door.

  “What are you doing?” Charlie hissed.

  “I need to talk to you for a minute,” Zoe said. “Outside.”

  “Can it wait?”

  “No.”

  The hallway was bright compared to the dimmed lighting in the observation room. Charlie blinked a few times, waiting for her eyes to adjust.

  “So…” Zoe said. “They’re going to be in there for a while.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Like, probably for a few more hours, at least. Accounting for bathroom breaks, meal breaks, and all, I’d say this interrogation will stretch deep into the night.” Zoe spoke pointedly, her eyes going wide as if there were some second meaning Charlie was supposed to catch onto.

  “That’s generally how it works, right? You can keep him for forty-eight hours without charging him.”

  Zoe nodded, still giving her that penetrating look.

  Charlie just shook her head, baffled by Zoe’s demeanor.

  “It’s just too bad that someone couldn’t, you know, go peek in the windows of his house while they know he’s tied up here. Poke around for some physical evidence.” Zoe shrugged. “That’s all.”

  Charlie blinked slowly, her eyes narrowing.

  “So you want me to go snoop around Gibbs’ house?”

  Hand to her chest, Zoe gasped.

  “I’m merely making casual conversation with a friend. An offhand comment, if you will.”

  “Right,” Charlie said, still squinting at Zoe.

  “I mean, even if you found something, it wouldn’t be like you could act on it,” Zoe said. “The most you’d be able to do would be to call in an anonymous tip.”

  “What happened to your fastidious morals?”

  Zoe’s face went hard.

  “Kara Dawkins is still missing. We have to proceed as if she’s still alive. He could be holding her somewhere, as we speak. Besides that, Leroy Gibbs already got away with murder once. I won’t let that happen again. He killed Allie, and we’re going to prove it.”

  Charlie swallowed, startled by Zoe’s passion. Lost in the shock of finding Amber’s body, Charlie had almost forgotten that Kara was still out there. After a moment, she nodded.

  “You’re right,” she said, already beginning to formulate a plan. “Give me a call if anything happens. If they let him go, I mean.”

  “I will. But he’s not going anywhere, trust me. Like you said, we’ll keep him here long into the night.”

  As Charlie turned to go, Zoe caught her arm and gave it a squeeze.

  “Be careful.”

  Chapter Sixty

  Charlie drummed her fingers against the steering wheel as she waited at one of Salem Island’s three traffic lights, just two blocks from her apartment. The reality of what she was planning to do was finally sinking in.

  The Gibbs house. Tonight. As soon as the dark fully settled, she would push through that door. She would see what there was to see. And everything would be different after. Everything.

  The strange numbness from earlier had faded, replaced by restlessness. The anticipation made her skin crawl, as though fingertips lightly brushed down the lengths of her arms, swiped at the soft flesh just along her throat, tickled the backs of her knees.

  So many times Charlie had wondered what she might have found in the Gibbs house if she’d been given a chance to poke around. The police had searched the place back then, of course. And they’d uncovered nothing. No hair. No blood. No fibers. No evidence that Allie had been there at all.

  Still, Charlie could never let go of the idea that they might have missed something. That if only she’d had the opportunity to peek inside the ratty old house, she might have discovered something they’d missed. Allie was her sister, after all. Her twin. Charlie knew her better than anyone. Maybe she could have recognized some tiny detail that proved Allie had been there. Had died there.

  The light turned green, and the car lurched into motion again. It felt strange to move just now. As though time itself should stand still as one approached the major events in life. Turning points. Crossroads. The thresholds we passed over and through, the lines that divided our lives into before and after.

  A flood of images came to her. Memories of Allie’s investigation rendered in a jumbled montage of flapping police tape, whirling lights, the detectives sitting in the living room trying to talk to the family while her mom kept bursting into tears, clips from the local TV news reports. They fought to take her out of the moment, but Charlie pushed them away. The memories never helped anything.

  Charlie pulled into the lot outside her apartment then, snow rasping under the tires where the plow had piled it along the sloped entrance. She parked near the stairs. Killed the engine. Sat in the quiet.

  The wind howled as it blew over the hood and windshield. Shrill. Almost whistling.

  Charlie had studied Allie’s file, of course. She’d read the interviews, pored over the photos of the Gibbs house. But it wasn’t the same as seeing it all with her own eyes.

  Her hand clasped the door handle, hesitating a moment before pulling it.

  Tonight, all of that would change. She knew it was unlikely that she’d find any trace of Allie there now. She was too late on that. But there was still a chance of finding justice for Amber and Kara. And she refused to give up hope that Kara might still be alive.

  Charlie climbed out of the car and traversed the icy path. The wind ripped across her face, cold and dry, blasting her hard enough that her eyelids fluttered. The soles of her shoes skidded with each step, the ice preventing any real traction, making progress slow.

  At the top of the stairs, she unlocked her door and stepped out of the wind. Shook the dusting of snow off the ankles of her pants.

  She glanced around the room. She’d need to pack some supplies. There’d never be another chance like this, and she had to make it count.

  She crossed the room and squatted beside the bed. Rooted around under it until she found the duffel bag. One good tug pulled it free of the mess. Then she slapped it on the mattress and unzipped the thing so its flaps hung open like a dog’s loose lips.

  In went a pair of heavy-duty Maglites the size of nightsticks—a primary flashlight and a backup. Zoe always praised this particular brand for its reliability, as well as its ability to bludgeon if and when necessary.

  Then her lock pick kit went in the bag. Probably less than five minutes at the back door would be enough to get her in, which was a good feeling.

  Next, she tossed in a ski mask to hide her face as she crept up to the house. Around here, a ski mask wouldn’t look out of place at all this time of year. She’d look like an ice-fisherman headed home for the night.

  She rifled through her toolbox and loaded a few of her tools into the bag, figuring that even with her lock pick stuff already in tow, she’d want options. Better to be prepared for whatever she might encounter
.

  She zipped the bag shut and lifted it, the tools inside clanking together. Placing the bag beside the door, Charlie peered out the window to gauge the level of daylight. The fact that the sheriff planned to hold Gibbs well into the night meant that she had the luxury of waiting until nightfall before attempting her little break-in.

  She went to her laptop to check what time the sun would set, but the screen froze. Charlie drilled her fingers against the keyboard and swiped at the touchpad. Nothing happened.

  For an anxious moment, she worried over the fate of her master case file if her computer finally bit the dust. Then she remembered it was backed up on her cloud drive. The file would be safe.

  With the machine still frozen, she forced a hard reboot. The laptop went quiet, and Charlie was suddenly struck by how silent it was in the apartment. Allie hadn’t uttered a single word since Charlie had found the body that morning.

  A chill ran up Charlie’s spine.

  Was that right? She ran through it all in her mind: finding the body, calling Zoe, waiting for the police and the coroner to show up, watching them hoist the stretcher laden with the body bag into a van. Allie had been mute through all of it. Then there’d been everything at the station: hauling Gibbs in, Will showing up to represent him, the start of the interrogation. Nothing from Allie. Not a peep.

  Charlie considered calling out to her, and then felt silly. Most of the time she couldn’t get Allie to shut up. Maybe she should count this as a blessing. With what she had planned for tonight, there was enough on her plate.

  The login screen for Charlie’s computer came up. She typed in her password and signed in. Everything seemed to be in order. She opened her browser. It wouldn’t be dark for another two hours.

  She sighed, tapping her toes in a rhythmless beat. There was no way she could stand sitting around the apartment for two hours. The stillness would be unbearable.

  Her eyes fell on a calendar she kept pinned on the wall next to the kitchen cabinets, which she mostly used for keeping track of Frank’s chemo schedule. He didn’t have chemo today, but there was another reminder scrawled under yesterday’s date.

  Refill Frank’s RXs.