by Jonas Saul
Then Hunter was sitting back at the table with Alex behind him, his eyes wide with wonder at what the heck smashed into him.
“Doesn’t look like you’re going anywhere at the moment,” Parkman said, stepping in front of Detective Hunter. “We all feel it’s best if you wait for the authorities.”
Chapter 22
Sarah and DeOcampo met with a new detective named, Milton. It was early morning now, and Sarah had gotten less than four hours of sleep, but the investigation was ongoing, and since two more bodies were found in relation to Homicide Detective, Donovan Hunter, the department wanted a detailed statement of DeOcampo’s and Sarah’s involvement.
Now, in the police station, Detective Milton led them to a comfortable room where they’d be interviewed and given a chance to offer their full statement.
Settled in, large coffee in hand, the yawns started and Sarah couldn’t seem to stop them.
DeOcampo turned to Sarah, her face a mask of concern. “If this girl Beverly is in trouble, we’re not helping her by being in here chatting.”
Sarah nodded. Her eyes wanting to close. She stared at her coffee a moment, then said, “You’re right, but we also don’t have the first clue as to where to look.”
“Then we arrange all the pretenses of having Hunter turn himself in for what he did twenty years ago, and if we can’t get him out of the police station, he acts as a liaison to us on the outside.”
“Liaison?” Sarah shook her head. “Sorry, I wished I had two more hours’ sleep. I can’t think quite yet. What will we use Hunter for?”
“Hunter can tell us everything he knows about Beverly and everything that happened twenty years ago so we can have a better idea of who we’re looking for and where to look.”
“DeOcampo, I may be tired, but that sounds exhausting.” She held up a hand when DeOcampo went to protest. “What I’m saying is, Hunter can talk about Beverly until he’s blue in the face, but the kidnapper won’t be hiding her in a location familiar to Hunter. Also, whatever happened twenty years ago is lost on him. He claims they beat up a girl. If that’s all it was, then why all these killings? For a beat down?” She eyed DeOcampo for a moment. “And to turn himself in? For what? Assault and battery from twenty years ago? No, something else happened and Hunter isn’t telling us everything. If Jamie Morgan is still alive, he won’t know a thing that’ll be useful.” She shook her head. “I say he turns himself in and stays inside, a BOLO is put out on his ex-girlfriend, and we wait for the kidnapper to reach out or make a mistake. I mean, what else do we have?”
DeOcampo tapped her fingers on the table, staring at the closed door. “You’re right. This is a dead end. But what bothers me is Beverly’s life hangs in the balance.”
“Bothers me, too.”
They stared at each other for a moment, then Sarah drank more coffee. It felt medicinal, and tasted so damn good.
“Let’s finish this debriefing or whatever it is, and go get more sleep. We’ll meet somewhere for dinner and discuss options tonight. In the meantime, all the law enforcement Toronto has to offer will be on the lookout for Beverly Wilder.”
“You’re right.” DeOcampo glanced down at her lap. “I just don’t like it. This sucks. I hate that that girl is out there, alone. She’s probably so scared.”
“Wait,” Sarah whispered. “How would the kidnapper know whether or not Hunter turned himself in?”
DeOcampo faced her, eyes wide.
Then the door opened, and Detective Milton gestured for them to follow him outside. “Please, follow me.”
“Where are we going now?” DeOcampo asked as they both rose from the table.
“To a larger conference room for a debriefing.”
They fell in behind Milton.
“A debriefing?” Sarah echoed. “I thought they wanted something of a larger, more detailed statement.”
“As far as I understand it,” Milton said over his shoulder as he led them through a zigzag of cubicles, “the higher ups got all they needed from Detective Hunter regarding the latest events, as well as your accounts from the crime scene last night.”
Sarah and DeOcampo exchanged a glance.
Something was off. Hunter was up to something and he wasn’t turning himself in as the note on the dead body last night told him to. This wasn’t going to end well for Beverly Wilder.
Inside the conference room they were greeted by eight different people. Detective Hunter and his sarge were the only two she recognized. The rest were strangers, which was fine with Sarah because Hunter’s partner, Detective Crawford wasn’t there.
When they began to introduce everyone, Sarah stopped them.
“Truly, no disrespect intended, but I won’t be able to remember all of your names in the short time I’ll be here. Please, carry on with what you were discussing and once we get through my purpose in being here, I’d like to get home to my daughter.”
Several heads nodded as Sergeant Mavin, who she met yesterday at the Buttonville Airport, gestured for her and DeOcampo to take a seat.
“Ladies, we’ve appreciated your help to this point. DeOcampo, thanks for making the initial introductions and arranging for Sarah to come in.” His gaze turned to Sarah. “And thank you, Miss Roberts, for aiding Detective Hunter recently. Your contributions don’t go unnoticed.”
Sarah and DeOcampo both nodded in acknowledgement.
This must be where they’re told they aren’t needed anymore. Could Sarah simply go home and get the conclusion of this case through the media like everyone else?
“It would seem my team has come up with several theories,” the sergeant continued. “The strongest one being that someone Hunter arrested years ago has made him their target.”
“Their target?” Sarah whispered. When everyone turned her way, she realized just how loud that whisper was.
“Excuse me, Sarah,” the sergeant said. “You have something to add?”
“After what Detective Hunter told us yesterday,” she waved a hand between her and DeOcampo, “it didn’t sound like a disgruntled criminal exacting revenge. This is a targeted attack on Hunter and his friends, and the use of the hanger on the victims is a clear indication of—”
“Of what, Sarah?” the sergeant cut her off. “Of a deranged individual looking for some type of celebrity status, while targeting one of my detectives?” The sergeant leaned forward, resting on his elbows. “Listen to what we have to say, then add to it some of your own conclusions, and we’ll go from there. How’s that sound?”
Sarah nodded. “Works for me.” She wasn’t in the mood to argue this morning. Who knows, they may have come up with something that actually fits with what had been happening. She would keep an open mind and observe without judgment.
The sergeant went on about disgruntled criminals, a psychopath with an agenda to rankle the detectives, and the probabilities that it could actually be a dead woman who might not be dead. When he finished, he invited questions.
Several questions were fielded, but none of them were Sarah’s questions. She waited her turn. When there was a break in the conversation, she jumped in.
“Sergeant, if Miss Morgan, presumed dead in the summer of 1999, didn’t actually die, why would she wait twenty years to come after Detective Hunter and the people he knows?”
“Thank you for asking that, Sarah. That’s actually one of the leading questions we had when we were discussing things an hour earlier, and we all agreed the likelihood was so small, that we removed it as an option. Even if she survived Lake Ontario, where did she go? A hospital? There’s no record. How did she eat? There’s no record of her SIN number being used anywhere, no job, no nothing. Jamie Morgan vanished twenty years ago, assumed dead. Therefore, we came to the conclusion that if this was personal, it could be Jamie’s sister, or best friend, or whatever. But again, no siblings that we’re aware of. Her parents died that summer, too.” The sergeant shrugged. “Basically, it couldn’t be Miss Morgan or anyone who knew her because no one would wait
that long to come after Hunter. That said, since we have no complaints, no charges filed or dropped, and no current complainant, there’s nothing Detective Hunter can turn himself in for. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Sarah stared at them all dumbfounded. “Well, no I wouldn’t agree, but that doesn’t really matter, does it? Although, I think it matters a lot to Beverly Wilder.”
“Which is something we have also discussed.”
Hunter glanced down at this lap, his arms moving subtly. It appeared from where Sarah sat that he was receiving and sending texts to someone. He seemed oddly detached for a meeting about him and his ex-girlfriend?
“Regarding Beverly Wilder, we have sent out her picture to every law enforcement officer from the shores of Lake Ontario north, to North Bay, east and west to Windsor and Ottawa. We’ve also contacted large private security companies like Paladin Security in the hopes they’ll distribute her picture among their teams throughout the area.”
DeOcampo opened her mouth to say something, but the sergeant raised a hand for her to wait.
“So, we are having Hunter stay inside the station most of the day, then we will have one of our officers drive him out to a motel where he’ll be staying for the duration of this case.”
“To make sure,” DeOcampo cut in this time, not waiting for the okay, “that if someone’s watching the station Hunter isn’t seen leaving?”
The sergeant was nodding.
“What about an arraignment this morning, or even tomorrow morning? This is public information. Whoever wants Detective Hunter to turn himself in for whatever crimes they feel he allegedly committed, will probably take measures to see that he did in fact do that.”
The sergeant pursed his lips and scanned the faces at the table. After he looked away from Hunter, the detective glanced back down at his cell phone and madly tapped out a text.
This meeting was about his life, his future, and he was acting like an errant school boy texting his girlfriend when the teacher wasn’t looking. Who could be that important?
“We understand your concerns, Special Agent DeOcampo, but how can I even process charges on a man who, in my esteemed understanding has done nothing wrong. Detective Hunter has an impeccable record with the police station, and hasn’t one blemish in all his years with the Toronto Police Services. Simply because a murderer orders he turn himself in—without charges, without evidence—isn’t enough to start that process. In order to do so, we would need something to substantiate charges. That said, Hunter will continue to advise us as we work the case, and until its conclusion, will remain out of sight or in the police station.”
Heads nodded around the table. It seemed Detective Hunter was a well-liked man in this room, and convincing them otherwise would be a futile challenge.
Now Sarah just wanted to leave the room. This was a waste of time, and Vivian was gone.
She cleared her throat. “How come no one has asked how Hunter knew the precise names of the people who would be killed?”
The sergeant frowned. “He did know them, as well as another dozen people that are potentially in danger. What’s your point?”
Hunter was tapping on his phone again.
“He spoke of an event that took place twenty years ago that involved the victims and himself. He told DeOcampo and me of a crime he committed.”
There was a collective gasp throughout the room and Hunter glanced up.
“Sarah,” he said. “I just lost one of my best friends, Pastor Blair. I may have mentioned we partied a little back in the day. William and I even shared a girlfriend once. So, what? Sex is a crime now?” He placed his cell phone on the table, then raised his hands and shoulders.
“Sex is a crime,” she paused to let that sink in, “where there’s no consent.”
“Fine, then bring that woman forward and I’ll pay for my alleged crimes.”
“As we mentioned moments ago,” the sergeant interjected. “We don’t have a complainant and highly doubt our decorated homicide detective beside me here is guilty of such indiscretions. I certainly won’t lose him on a murderers’ whim, or allow his reputation to be sullied with hearsay or conjecture.”
“Sergeant,” DeOcampo said as she got to her feet. “This isn’t a courtroom, and Detective Hunter isn’t on trial. I heard what the man said yesterday, and from Hunter’s own mouth what he did was a crime. That said, you’ve chosen your path on how to deal with this. I’ll be at my hotel if you need me.”
Sarah got to her feet and followed DeOcampo out the door.
“Sarah Roberts,” Hunter called.
Sarah stopped before the door closed and elbowed it back open slightly.
“Please wait another five minutes at least.” Hunter’s eyes begged her to agree with him. “I have something I need to discuss with you.”
Sarah looked at DeOcampo, then back to Hunter. She nodded. She had five minutes to spare. Then home to Willow and some much needed sleep. It would appear her contributions to this case were coming to an end.
“I’ll wait out here.”
He nodded.
Although, it took longer than five minutes before Hunter came to see her in the hallway. In fact, he took forty minutes. She’d almost nodded off when he finally approached her.
“That was a long five minutes.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He glanced around as if looking for someone. “Can we go and talk somewhere private?”
“What’s going on?”
He stopped fidgeting and turned to focus on her. “The person texting me in the meeting is the man who has Beverly Wilder.”
She reared back, eyes wide, fully awake now. “You were texting with the perp during that meeting and didn’t say anything?”
“Keep your voice down.”
He grabbed her arm to lead her along the corridor, but she yanked it out of his grasp.
“I’ll follow,” she said.
Hunter frowned, but started walking. She followed him past a dozen doors before they found an empty office.
Once inside, he closed the door and they were alone.
“I received a text saying they were aware I wasn’t going to turn myself in and wanted to meet tonight.”
“And?”
He stared out the window of the office, avoiding her gaze. The skin around his collar had reddened, and his shirt had the signs of excessive sweating. The man before her was going through an immense amount of stress. He was a homicide detective being targeted by a murderer who was dropping bodies around the city at a high rate, and now that murderer had his ex-girlfriend.
Hunter pivoted around and stared at her, his phone in his hand. “They said to come with you and that you would understand.”
“Understand what?” She shook her head. “I don’t understand any of this now. You have one of the strongest police forces behind you and you don’t tell them about those texts? That’s what I don’t understand.”
“I’ve lost a lot of dear friends in the past forty-eight hours.” He focused on the floor as tears slid down his cheeks. “It’s starting to hit me in waves. All my friends, people I grew up with. And sure, we did some wild and crazy things, but no one deserves to be murdered.”
Basically, she’d agree with him there. Yet, there was always that one human scum who shouldn’t be among the living. There was always one.
“Anyway,” he said, looking back up. “The texts were specific.”
“What did they say?”
“Tell no one. Bring you. Come to the barn tonight at ten, and come unarmed. If anyone approaches the abandoned farmhouse other than you and me, Beverly dies. If we are armed, Beverly dies.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a plan to me. We’re walking into a trap.”
“That’s what I was thinking, but I have to do it and I was hoping you’d come along.”
Sarah moved toward the window, thoughts of Willow on her mind. What kind of mother would willingly go to that farmhouse tonight unarmed? What would happen to Willow? And als
o, to what end? What was the killer thinking?
There had to be a way to have a weapon with them.
Then she thought of all the lives lost, and she thought of Darwin, his ingenuity, and her small team that could help out. If there was danger and she had to run, she could at least have backup, a team close by.
She turned to Hunter. “I’ll do it. I’ll come.”
He nodded, wiping his eyes. “Let’s meet at nine tonight and go over some last-minute details. I’ll bring you Kevlar to wear. The texts didn’t say no protective gear.”
“Just you and me?” she asked for clarification.
He nodded again. “Just us.”
“Where are we meeting?”
“Near Bolton, just north of the farmhouse off of Highway 50, there’s a Tim Hortons. Going north, it’s on the left side. Meet me there at nine. Come alone.”
Sarah nodded, and without another word, she walked out of the police station.
Chapter 23
After a long sleep, and an even longer talk with Aaron, they were ready for the evening.
As expected, he protested her involvement in such a crazy idea as approaching a murderer at that hour, in the dark, over a kilometer from electricity or civilization, and without weapons, too.
In another world, another time, he would forbid her to go and that would be the end of it. But this was not those times, and Sarah had given her word to Hunter.
“Aaron,” she said. “This argument is getting old. I’m going and that’s all there is to it. Now, I’d prefer to go with your blessing—and backup—but that’s up to you.”
In his face—the constant shifting, fidgeting—she could tell this sort of thing took a toll on him, but this was what she was when they met almost a decade ago, and this was what she would be for quite some time yet.
Aaron’s face cleared, like he’d made a decision. “Look, let’s focus on keeping you alive tonight.” He glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. “We’ve got three hours. I’ll make some calls. Alex and Parkman will be in. Daniel, too. Not sure about Benjamin, though.”