Cold Case Secrets

by Maggie K. Black

  “My brother’s getting married the day after tomorrow,” he said, after a long moment, “as you probably know. It would be really great to have some answers by then.”

  “I heard the wedding’s at a big estate near Huntsville,” Grace said. He felt her back brush gently against his and somehow it felt just as intimate as their hug had been.

  “Yeah,” he said. “When my parents gave Trent and Chloe some money toward the wedding, they gave the rest of us an equal amount. I figured I wasn’t the marrying kind, so bought myself a motorcycle. It’s a really sweet one.”

  He chuckled. Grace did too.

  Then he felt his smile fade. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to tell them about this.”

  Silence fell between them again.

  “I remember reading about your sister’s death,” Grace said after a long moment. He felt her back brush gently against his. “I read the news obsessively back then. Every morning I’d read the front page of every paper in the newspaper boxes by my bus stop, and then when I got on the bus I’d pick up every discarded newspaper I could find and take it with me. I actually got my first byline when I was fifteen. It was a letter I wrote to the editor about traffic not stopping for people crossing the road.”

  She chuckled slightly at the memory and leaned farther into him. He’d never imagined another person’s back could fit so comfortably against his. “Your sister’s story really hit me because we were about the same age. We prayed for your family in church. I’d forgotten that until just now. I prayed for you all on my own too, back when I believed prayer would do something.”

  “Sometimes prayer doesn’t change the world around us. It just changes us,” Jacob said. “I don’t know if I’ve ever really known that other people, that strangers, were praying for us. But my mom and dad have always been big on praying for the people they see in trouble on the news. They’d been praying for my sister-in-law Daisy hours before they discovered why she was on the run from police or that my brother Max was helping her and baby Fitz. Intellectually, I know sometimes news coverage is a necessary evil because it warns people of danger or gets people to call in with leads. But until right now, I’ve never even stopped to think that it pushes people to pray.”

  “I don’t blame you,” she said. “I know this doesn’t make it any better, but we also talked about it in school. We had a special assembly about self-defense. There are probably a lot of women who are alive today or who survived things because of your sister’s death...” Her voice trailed off for a moment, as she seemed to catch herself. “I’m sorry, that probably sounds horrible. I didn’t mean to imply there’s ever anything good about what happened...”

  “Hey, it’s okay.” He reached back and felt for her hand in the darkness, without looking, without thinking, like somehow he knew where it would be. Her hand slipped into his, their fingers linked. He squeezed her hand tightly. “It’s okay to acknowledge that sometimes good can come out of the most horrible things.”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she squeezed his hand back, hard.

  “That’s something I believe and hold on to,” he said. “That God can make new life and beauty out of ashes. That God makes incredible things come out of the worst places.”

  He felt her shift, but she didn’t let go of his hand and he didn’t let go of hers.

  “You pray a lot,” she said eventually. “Like a lot, a lot. It reminds me of my mother. She never stopped praying no matter what life threw at her. She wasn’t married when I was born and my father dumped her when she told him she was pregnant.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.” Her hand stayed linked in his. “She married a really wonderful guy when I was two and he’s been an amazing stepfather to me. I grew up going to church with them. But it was hard. There was a lot of gossip about the fact that my mother wasn’t married when I was born. A lot of rumors swirled around about my birth. My mother just raised her head high, ignored it all and said it was nobody’s business but ours. She’s this incredible woman, strong and independent, and people spread the worst gossip about her. Looking back, maybe it was only two or three women who gossiped about my mom, but it trickled down to their kids who were my age, and it’s funny how sometimes a handful of people can feel like everyone. When I was sixteen, this guy I really liked asked me out. Then his mom made him take it back, because I wasn’t good enough for him. I can’t imagine how much worse it would’ve been if they’d known my dad was in jail.”

  He felt her shrug.

  “I supposed most kids in my situation would’ve become rebellious,” she said. “But I went the other way. I worked as hard as I could to be stronger, healthier, more successful, get the best grades and prove I could be a better person than them without God.” Silence moved between them again. But it was a comfortable silence. Warm and expectant, like the air before a gentle summer rain. Then she said, “I said I was an atheist. But it’s more like I was so angry at the church, my father and everyone that I couldn’t pray. So I can’t imagine going through everything you went through and still be praying.”

  He let his thumb run over her fingers, slowly and gently. He didn’t know why there was something so comforting about her being there. He just knew he wasn’t ready to let go.

  “I’m not sure why I never shut God out of my life after what happened to Faith,” he admitted. “I know I yelled at God a lot. I screamed in fury. I prayed a lot of hurt and angry prayers. But I figure that if God’s real, and God’s there, and God’s listening, then I’m going to pray.”

  He wasn’t sure if that was a good enough answer. But it was an honest one. They lapsed back into silence and after a while, he felt her hand slip from his.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get a better look at the man who ambushed us,” she said. “It was dark, and he was wearing a mask. But I did manage to bash him pretty hard on the side of his head, so he should have a nasty gash there. I couldn’t begin to guess if it was Cutter or Driver.”

  “Or Turner,” Jacob added. “Any one of the three of them could have planted the locket.”

  There was a long pause, and he could only guess what was going on in Grace’s mind.

  “You wanted to look at facts,” Grace said. “So let’s look at facts. Cutter and Driver are both violent offenders who have a history of assault. But Cutter specifically has assaulted women and would’ve been in his thirties when...when we were teenagers.” He noticed she’d been careful not to mention his sister and appreciated it. “Whereas Driver would’ve been around nine or ten. So, unless Driver planted the locket for some reason, he’s out.”

  “Agreed,” Jacob said. “And Turner was in his forties, so it could be him.”

  She bristled and pulled away. “Turner pulled a trigger but never physically assaulted anyone. And those deaths were directly related to his bribery and corruption charges.”

  “He’s still a killer,” Jacob said, “who killed his partner and an informant.”

  “Which doesn’t fit the pattern of this crime.”

  “As far as we know,” Jacob said. He didn’t even bother trying to hide the contempt in his voice. “He never confessed or took any responsibility for his actions. He didn’t just go to jail protesting his innocence. He claimed some shadowy organization inside senior law enforcement had set him up, while providing zero evidence to back that up. He called them The Elders and implied they were incredibly senior officers.”

  “You seem to know a lot about the case considering you were a teenager when he was arrested,” she said.

  “I was sixteen,” Jacob said. “I was already training to be a cop when he eventually went to trial. It was all anyone could talk about. Then there was appeal after appeal. What he did didn’t just affect the police back then. He basically smeared the entire profession for years to anyone who would listen just to try to save himself from the consequences of his own actions. Maybe I took it
a bit personally, because he’d thrown away everything I cared about. But I suspect a lot of cops feel the same way. For all we know, there was something more in the warehouse he was trying to hide than just evidence of his drug business.”

  “That last part was speculation,” Grace said. “I thought we agreed to stick to facts.”

  Although he couldn’t tell for sure in the darkness, something about the way she shuffled made him think she’d crossed her arms. He looked over his shoulder but couldn’t see much of anything in the dark. “Fair enough.”

  Especially considering there wasn’t anything he could do about it and there was no point getting himself frustrated now.

  “Do you think there’s any possibility that Turner was set up by a group of dirty cops?” Grace asked.

  “No, I don’t.” Jacob shook his head. “Because if something like that was going on, more people would know about it and there’d be evidence. Nothing stays hidden forever.”

  She didn’t answer. After a while, he felt the floorboards shift as she stretched out on the floor. He lay on his back beside her, feeling the cold hardwood beneath him, not knowing if she was asleep or awake, and listened to the storm, her breath, any sign someone might be lurking outside and the beating of his own heart.

  Time passed and after a while they started talking again in whispered tones. Not about crime or killers, but lighter topics, like the music they enjoyed, concerts they’d gone to, books they’d read and places they wanted to travel. They talked for hours, lying a few feet apart on the cold wooden floor, like children whispering on a camping sleepover. Until slowly, finally, the rain died down to a gentle patter before fading off completely, the wind stopped and rays of the August morning sun began to slip through the cracks in the door and the window toward them.

  They sat up slowly and exchanged smiles. Grace curled herself into a tight ball, then slowly unwound and stood.

  “Good morning.” A smile crossed her lips and filled her eyes. She reached out a hand toward him; he took it and let her help pull him up. “Looks like we survived the night.”

  “Yeah.” He dropped her hand and ran his own through his hair. He wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that things had been so quiet—almost too quiet—and there hadn’t been so much as a rustle in the bushes. “Mind if I try your phone again now that the storm’s died down? If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to give rescue a shout and see just how quickly they can get a helicopter out here to pick us up. The sooner we can get out of these woods the better. Want to go grab coffee together after the helicopter ride but before we go our separate ways?”

  She bit her lip slightly as she smiled and suddenly it hit him that his last comment had sounded an awful lot like he’d just asked her out on a date, which hadn’t been what he’d meant at all. He’d just meant they were both really tired and needed caffeine, so they might as well drink some after the helicopter dropped them off but before she made her way back to Toronto. Once they got back, he’d then need to rush off to coordinate a team to search the cabin, contact Liam about retrieving that additional evidence and, of course, give Trent a call to let him know he was sorry he’d missed the bachelor party but would be there tonight for the rehearsal and definitely wouldn’t miss the wedding tomorrow. After all, when Grace had emailed him and suggested they grab coffee, that hadn’t been a date, right?

  “Coffee sounds pretty amazing.” A smile crossed her lips and dazzled in her eyes.

  She reached into her bag, pulled out two protein bars and handed him one. Then she shook the canteen. “You’re probably going to want a couple of minutes of privacy to make your phone calls and I’m thirsty. If I remember correctly, there’s a stream just a few feet from the cabin. Any objection if I go refill the canteen and splash some water on my face?”

  He shook his head. “No, just stay vigilant, stay within eyesight of the cabin and if you hear me shout, answer right away.”

  “Got it.” She unlocked the door and swung it open. Rising sun flooded in. Water glistened from the trees. Puddles covered the ground, but the sky was cloudless, streaked with blue and pink from the sunrise. He checked his watch. It was almost five thirty in the morning and the storm was over. Thank You, God. Rescue would hopefully be on their way any minute. “See you in a bit.”

  “Wait.” Jacob hesitated. Then he reached down and pulled the gun she’d lifted off Cutter from his ankle holster. He held it out to her. “Take this. Don’t fire it unless you have to.”

  Her fingers brushed his as she took the weapon from his hand. Her eyes lingered on his face. “Thank you.”

  “No problem.”

  She slid the gun into her belt, covered it with her jacket and then saluted. “See you back here in five.”

  “Yeah, see you then.”

  Grace stepped out into the sunshine. The phone was showing half a signal bar. Jacob removed the case then climbed up onto the roof to boost the signal even more. He braced his feet against a skylight and shot off a quick text to his brother Trent’s secure phone line using the short-form code words they’d established years ago to let the fellow detective know it was him, to call him back and that the line was unsecured. Then he prayed the phone would keep its battery long enough for Trent to call him back. He didn’t know either Kevin or Warren’s numbers off by heart and while calling his division would eventually get him patched into local Search and Rescue efforts, his brother Trent would be way more efficient. Plus, if he only had enough juice for one phone call, he knew whose voice he wanted to hear and was going to make that one call count.

  He watched as Grace disappeared into the trees and he lost sight of her through the dense foliage. He felt almost self-conscious watching her go. Had he done the right thing in giving her back the weapon? There’d been a moment between them—or more like a whole string of moments—since he’d dropped down between the rocks to save her. That sense he’d had that they were like magnets pulling together and pushing apart hadn’t faded once in the hours they’d spent together and if anything, the pull was getting stronger. All too soon, they’d be back in the real world. Her life would go back to normal. His life would continue, even though he suspected it would take a long time to feel normal again. What would that mean for the burgeoning of whatever there was between him and Grace? Would she keep sending him emails and would he keep ignoring them? Would they start nodding politely to each other in passing at crime scenes?

  Would he ask her out for coffee? Would he let his hand reach across the table for hers?

  The phone in his hand rang, the sound seeming to shatter the peaceful silence of the morning. He glanced at the screen—Thank You, God!—then snapped the phone to his ear.

  “Hey, Trent!” he said. “I’m sorry I missed the bachelor party!”

  “I’m sure you are!” His younger brother’s voice boomed back down the phone with more than a hint of a relieved laugh in it. There was nobody else he knew who was capable of sounding that wide-awake before six in the morning. “Tell me you’ve got a good excuse.”

  “I got shot.” Jacob braced his feet against the roof, leaned back and stared up at the sky. “Then I fell from a Search and Rescue helicopter, nearly drowned and got stranded in Algonquin.”

  Not that Trent, his brother and a fellow RCMP detective, wouldn’t pretty much already know most of that. But it never hurt to remind him for future Henry brothers bragging rights.

  “I spoke to Detective Warren Scott this morning,” Trent said, making Jacob wonder just how long his brother had been awake and how much of the day before his wedding had already been spent on making sure Jacob was safe. “Short call. Your pilot from yesterday came down with some kind of severe food poisoning. Nasty stuff. Spread through Search and Rescue. A lot of the team are grounded. A few have been hospitalized. Considering the large-scale efforts now underway to get roads reopened, power lines back up and people rescued after last night’s storm, th
e timing couldn’t be worse. Law enforcement are really stretched. Once the airport reopens, they’ll be flying in RCMP from across the country to help out. But Warren told me a bird would be in the air soon and reaching you by six.”

  Sounded like they needed him to get out of the woods and help out.

  “Now, what’s the situation with you?” Trent asked.

  Jacob quickly filled him in on everything that had happened with Cutter, Driver and the unknown attacker in the cabin. Trent whistled.

  “But that was hours ago,” Jacob added. “We had no trouble in the night and they could be anywhere now.”

  “Yeah, and I didn’t know all that,” Trent said. “For whatever reason, that information is being kept close to the chest. I can only assume they’re mobilizing ground troops to search the woods. But again, the storm last night was brutal. We’re talking a massive blackout, downed trees taking out power lines, and closed roads. It’s pretty bad. So, again, we’re stretched pretty thin.”

  “Understood,” Jacob said. If it weren’t for his brother’s wedding, he’d have insisted on joining the ground search for the escaped convicts as soon as he was sure Grace was safely heading back to Toronto.

  “Just stay safe,” Trent said. “Keep your head down and watch your back.”

  “Will do.”

  “And promise me you’re going to be there for the rehearsal dinner tonight.” Now a teasing grin hovered in his brother’s voice. “Not that I didn’t know when I asked you to be my best man that I was running the risk of something like this happening.”

  “Har, har,” Jacob said. “I’ll be there. Just pray for me, okay? We’ve still got to get out of here alive. Hopefully though it won’t be much longer.”

  He took a deep breath and debated whether to tell his brother about the locket. He needed to tell Trent. He needed to tell his entire family. But should he just blurt it out on a phone call? Should he wait until after the wedding? He tucked the phone into the crook of his neck, reached into his pocket and felt for the locket.