CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

 

“What’s wrong?” I whispered, turning to look out across the bleak, snow-covered cemetery, wondering what had him spooked.

“Sterling said he saw a man over there, crouched behind one of the headstones.”

I squinted against the falling snow, but saw no people aside from the funeral-goers. But one by one, men and women who had the marked look of Feds began peeling away from the crowd and heading off across the cemetery in the direction we were looking.

After gesturing for Deputy Lester to come over to us, Baxter leaned toward me and grasped my arm. “Stay here.”

My pulse quickening, I sucked in a breath. “You think it’s him.”

Nodding gravely, Baxter released me and strode toward the spot where the Feds and deputies were converging. I watched as they surrounded one of the larger monuments, one big enough for a grown man to hide behind. With a couple of swift movements, two of the Feds jumped behind the stone and wrestled a little. Then I saw three figures hit the ground. They had someone. My gut clenched, wondering if it could be Hunter Parsons, and this nightmare could finally come to an end.

Lester got a text, and after reading it said quietly to me, “Detective Baxter wants you over there.”

“Me?” I whispered. I didn’t want to get anywhere near Hunter Parsons.

“They’re not sure it’s him. You’re the only one who’s seen the guy in person.”

“Oh,” I breathed.

When I didn’t make a move to go, he said, “Ms. Matthews, I think we need to be moving, here.”

With my wobbly legs protesting every step, I followed Lester over to where Baxter and Sterling and a gaggle of other law enforcement officials were gathered around a man who was being held facedown on the snowy ground.

As we got closer, Baxter broke off from the group and came our way, taking me by the arm. “I can tell by the look on your face that this is freaking you out, but…I don’t think it’s our guy. He swears up and down someone paid him to put on a sock hat and glasses and creep around near the graveside service.”

“What?” I cried. “That sadistic bastard.”

“Yeah. The Feds don’t believe a word of it, so we need some confirmation before they decide to book this idiot for murder.”

I blew out a breath. “Okay. Just stay with me.”

“I won’t leave your side.”

He walked me up to the man on the ground. “Haul him up,” he ordered the two Feds on either side of the suspect.

After the men wrestled their prisoner to a standing position, I could see immediately that this young man wasn’t Hunter Parsons. He wasn’t tall enough, for one. And he looked nothing like him. Big nose and ears, with sunken, flat eyes.

I shook my head. “It’s not him.”

“You’re sure?” Sterling asked. “We can’t screw this up.”

“Positive.”

“See? I told you pigs I’m not a killer,” the suspect griped, which got him a rough shove from one of the Feds.

I lowered my voice and said to Baxter, “He’s wearing the same glasses, jacket, and Ashmore hat that Hunter Parsons had on at my office, though. The jacket is frayed on one shoulder. I remember it.”

Baxter said to the man, “Who put you up to this?”

“I already told you people. I answered an ad on Craigslist and got my instructions through there. Damn. Can somebody take some notes or something?”

“You still had to meet whoever gave you what you’re wearing. Can you describe him?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t meet nobody. A box with the jacket, hat, glasses, and money was left for me at Ritchey Woods. Hey, I didn’t do anything wrong, here. I got my rights, and this is some straight-up bullshit going on.”

I couldn’t take another minute of his smug attitude. “At no point did you think maybe this wasn’t a good idea? That what you were being asked to do wasn’t on the up-and-up? Did you even give a thought to what this would do to the victim’s family?”

“Shut up, bitch. You don’t know me,” he spat back at me.

Baxter started to lunge toward the guy, but I put my arm out to stop him. Glaring at the suspect, I fired back, “It takes a special kind of asshole to agree to terrorize someone’s funeral. I hope you remember that the next time you look in the mirror or when your mother asks you what you did today, you piece of shit.”

“Suck my dick.”

Baxter was too fast for me this time. His fist shot out and clocked the guy square in the jaw.

The suspect wailed, “Police brutality! You all saw it!”

Sterling shook his head. “I didn’t see anything.” He turned to the Fed next to him. “You see anything?”

“Nope,” the agent replied.

Baxter steered me away from the group as the suspect continued to spew curses and complaints until the two Feds holding him decided to put him facedown in the snow again. I noticed Baxter cradling his right hand.

I said, “You didn’t need to defend my honor back there.”

He grimaced and flexed his hand. “He had it coming.”

“I can’t disagree with you there.” Across the cemetery, I could see that the graveside service had concluded and people were heading toward their vehicles. I sighed. “Well, so much for a quiet funeral so I could get some closure.”

Baxter frowned and hung his head. “I’m sorry. That’s my fault.”

“Don’t do that, Nick. It all goes back to the killer. This is him messing with us. Again.”

He rubbed his forehead. “I know. It’s starting to get to me.”

“I can tell. You need some down time.”

Regarding me for a moment, he said, “Hey, you want to grab dinner with me tonight? If I have to eat one more meal at my desk, I’m going to lose it. I promise not to talk about the case.”

“I feel like you could find better company than me.”

“Maybe our bad moods will cancel each other out.”

I smiled. “Okay. See you tonight.”

I wandered back over to Rachel, who demanded angrily, “Where did you go? Could you not take a break from work long enough to attend Jenna’s whole funeral?”

“Rachel, I didn’t have a choice. There was…a situation.”

Her face was stuck in a tearful frown. “There’s always a situation with you. If you love investigating so much, why don’t you just go back to your old job? You have responsibilities, and you can’t keep dropping everything when Jayne or Detective Baxter calls. You’re letting things slide. Important things. Other people need you more than the department, you know.”

Her words, although born out of grief, cut right through my heart. I reached out, not knowing if she was too angry to let me put my arms around her. She didn’t resist, so I enveloped her in a hug.

“I’m sorry, Rach.”

She put her arms around me and cried quietly against me. After she’d settled down, I managed to get her into Deputy Lester’s vehicle so we could take her back to campus.

As we were walking Rachel back to the dorm where she was staying, I asked her, “What can I do for you? Are you taking a break this afternoon? Want to get something to eat? I can have Sam’s TA cover another class for me.”

She shook her head and sniffed. “Thanks, but no. A group of Jenna’s friends is meeting in the food court for coffee in a few minutes, and then I have a…a study group at one.”

“Later, then? Maybe we could go to David’s after your study group. I’m having dinner with Baxter, but I can reschedule if you want.”

Rachel eyed me skeptically. “I thought you said you were done with the department.”

“This has nothing to do with the case. He needs some time away from the desk.”

“Then it’s a date.”

“No, it’s dinner.”

“Whatever,” she muttered. “I want to go see Nate as soon as study group is over at three.”

“I’ll meet you and we can drive to David’s together.”

“I’m getting a little tired of the police escorts, Ellie.” She shot a look at Lester and added, “No offense.”

He nodded. “None taken, ma’am.”

I said to my sister, “You going off campus without a police escort is non-negotiable. I’ll meet you here at three.” We had arrived at the front door to the dorm, so I pulled her to me and gave her a hug. “If you need anything, you call me. I’ll drop everything and be here for you. Okay?”

“Okay. I love you, sissy.”

“I love you, too.”

After reluctantly letting her go, I headed across campus toward the science building with Lester trailing only steps behind. My heart twisted in my chest. Poor Rachel was so distraught by Jenna’s passing, it was playing havoc with her emotions. At only seventeen, she’d gotten pregnant and was a mom by eighteen. She didn’t have a chance to live out the last of her teenage years like a normal teen, so sometimes when she got overwhelmed, she reverted back to a more child-like version of herself. I knew I couldn’t have handled what she did at such a young age. Hell, I didn’t think I could handle motherhood now. I wanted to be able to help her through her grief, but I had no idea where to start. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to get her some professional help.

***

I taught my final two classes of the day, thinking it would have been better for everyone involved if I had just taken the whole day off and let someone else cover for me. I was scattered and kept losing my train of thought. Plus in my own emotional state, I was of no comfort to my students, many of whom were either upset or scared over the brutal murder of a fellow classmate. The whole campus seemed to have a pall over it, today especially. There was no way of fixing it, either. The only bright spot was that the semester break was coming up soon. I hoped after a few weeks away the students would have a chance to heal and could come back and resume some semblance of normalcy.

When I went back to my office after my final class, I had a text message from Rachel: Thinking about mom a lot today. Can you meet me at her grave? I’m there now.

“What the hell?” I muttered to myself as I reread the text. It was only two-thirty, so Rachel should still have been in her study group. Why would she have ditched a much needed study session right before finals?

This made no sense. Our mother hadn’t been a factor in our lives since I’d gone and taken a newly pregnant Rachel away from her so the poor girl could have a chance at a better life. The only time I’d ever thought about our mother since then was when I realized I’d been working on her murder case, unknowingly processing the garbage bags that had held pieces of her dismembered body. The case had caused me to quit my job, but not because I was distraught over her death. She’d had no use for Rachel and me in life, aside from the extra welfare money, so neither of us felt a reason to go out of our way to honor her in death. We didn’t take flowers to her grave, and we sure as hell didn’t go out there to weep over it.

This odd message—and the fact that Rachel had blatantly gone against my wishes and left campus alone—deserved more than a texted response. I called her cell, but it went to voicemail.

“Rachel, what in the hell are you doing leaving campus on your own? And why to go to mom’s grave? I’m on my way out there, but…please stay in your car with the doors locked and call me when you get this.”

I stalked out of my office. To Deputy Lester, who’d been standing guard outside my door, I said, “I need to get to Riverside Cemetery. Fast. I’ll explain on the way.”

After Lester heard that Rachel was out at the tiny, rather secluded cemetery all alone, he turned on his siren and lights and sped all the way to Noblesville, as fast as possible on the snowy streets. I continued to text and call Rachel on the drive there, but she wouldn’t pick up. I didn’t get how Jenna’s funeral could make Rachel go off the deep end about our mother. Was it the fact that they’d both been murdered at the hands of a madman?

I couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that Rachel’s off-the-charts reaction was my fault for being gone and for breaking the family apart in an attempt to keep us all safe. But I didn’t know what I could have done differently. Nate loved being with his grandparents, and Rachel needed the support of her friends who were all dealing with the same issue. Neither of them would have been happy being prisoners in their own home like I was. I’d thought I was doing the right thing, but maybe I’d only succeeded in making everyone miserable, including myself.

When we got to Riverside Cemetery, the small parking lot was empty. Rachel’s car wasn’t on any of the side streets.

“You’re sure she’s here?” Lester asked, his hand ready on his service pistol.

“She said she’d be here…” I replied uncertainly, peering out across the cemetery toward my mother’s grave. I could barely see the top of someone’s head peeking out above the back side of the headstone. “Wait, I think she’s over there. Although why she’s sitting in the snow, I don’t have a clue.”

I hurried toward the simple limestone grave marker that read “Patty Copland.” I hadn’t been out here since my mother’s funeral, and I still couldn’t wrap my mind around why after three years Rachel felt the burning need to make a visit.

As I neared the grave, I called, “Rach, what’s going on? Why are you sitting out here in the freezing cold?”

When she didn’t answer, I voiced an irritated grunt and walked around the grave to speak to her face-to-face. I let out a strangled scream when I laid eyes on the young woman sitting there. She wasn’t my sister. She was Michaela Richards.