Thoughts do not bubble up during my meditation and yoga this Monday morning. I can focus on my breath and my postures. Maybe it was because I spent half the night on the living room couch, turning like a speared piece of meat on a rotisserie. The excitement of the breakthrough lasted until the sun rose, and I am exhausted.
I am quiet as I help Emelina and Abe put things away. I don’t feel the need to discuss the crime scene photos and why goose feathers are so important to solving the case. We enjoy a comfortable silence, mostly because I am not longing to question my calling. I see Ken in the doorway.
“Hi, Abe, how’s the studio?” he asks
“Great, Ken. Let me know when you are ready to talk about finishing the upstairs.”
“If you’ve got some time now, I can go out and grab my notepad and tape measure.”
“By all means,” Abe says.
“Two other things,” Ken says. “Just a reminder, Emelina, I can help you out with some fall chores. Your chocolate chip cookies are the best I’ve ever tasted. I’m sure we can barter something.” He has a twinkle in his eyes. I love that man.
She beams at my husband. “Are you sure? You will do a lot of work for my cookies.”
Everyone is smiling, then Ken says, “Turn your phone on, hon. Erin’s been trying to reach you since eight o’clock.”
“Is it the kids?”
He coughs and says, “No, it’s about that thing you and she are working on.” He doesn’t know how much I share with Abe and Emelina.
I make a beeline for my bag, and as I turn the phone on, I tell him, “I’ll walk you out to the truck.”
We get outside, then Ken says, “She didn’t know what else to do, so she called me. I waited until I saw other people leaving.”
“Thanks. Do you mind if I sit in your truck while I talk to her?”
“Not at all. Abe and I won’t be long.”
“Indoor work is great work when it turns cold outside.” I repeat what he often says.
He gives me a peck on the cheek as grabs his pad and tape.
Thank goodness, I don’t have to hold my breath waiting for my phone to turn on. It’s an older model that I’ve dropped only a few times, but I can still read the screen through the fissures.
“Hi Erin, what’s up that you had to send Daddy after me?”
“You guys didn’t watch the news this morning?” she asks.
“No, I don’t care about traffic, and I can stick my head out the window for the weather. We like to start our day off with a minimum of excitement, honey.”
“Well, your day just got a hell of a lot more exciting. Caleb, go back in the dining room. Grammy Strong and I have to talk for a few minutes.” There is a pause. “He thinks that every time I go into the kitchen, he’s going to get something to eat. He’s like a puppy, I swear.” I can hear her moving to the counter where she keeps her iPad. “The State Police arrested Jason Stillman early this morning on charges of murdering both Jake Dawson and Brian Yelito. As best as I can tell, they are saying the motive has to do with stolen cars.”
I am stunned.
“Mom? Are you there?”
“Yes.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that Simon Stillman played me.”
“How so?”
“He wanted me to keep looking into it and create, create…”
“Reasonable doubt.”
“That’s the phrase, reasonable doubt. He could not influence the investigation directly, so he encouraged me to keep going, and he gave us that CD to prove their innocence in Brian’s death.”
“And Jake?”
“No defense there, as they could not establish an alibi.”
“How do you feel?” she asks me.
“I don’t really know. It doesn’t add up to me. We talked about what we needed to do. We have to get back inside the cabin and then talk to Sharon one more time.”
“There’s more, Mom. They identified the gun that killed Jake as being owned by Jason Stillman.”
My mind races back to finding the extra clip of ammunition in Jake’s dresser. “We always assumed that Jake owned the gun that killed him. That’s another thing to talk to Sharon about. Where did the gun come from?”
“The FBI, ATF, and the State Police raided their place in the woods outside of town before dawn this morning. Best I can tell, it is off a logging trail. The aerial photos show a couple of those prepper containers attached end to end. They hauled a bunch of guns out of there, too. Somebody tipped the local TV station, so they had a reporter up there as the sun came up. This is big news. Two homicides cleared and survivalists stashing lots of guns.”
“Two local kids working hard to make a living didn’t want to play ball with the Stillman twins, and when they threatened to end the relationship, they got killed.” I shake my head. “Brian, Sharon, or Candace would have said something to me if things had gotten that serious. It just doesn’t add up,” I repeat.
“What are you saying, Mom? You turned the police onto the Stillman twins. You argued with Detective Shafer and Barney Williams that Jake didn’t kill himself and that Brian’s death was not an accident.”
“Are the cops saying there was more about the Mustangs between the twins and the boys that nobody knew about?” I ask my daughter. She spends more time on true crime TV shows and podcasts than anybody else I know. Both of our wheels are spinning now.
“I have to check on the kids, Mom. Let me think about it.”
“Love ‘em and hug ‘em. We can circle back after I talk to Candace and Sharon, but I am telling you, it doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Love you, Mommy.”
“Love you too, honey.”
Ken comes back to the truck with a smile on his face. “Abe is not only talking about rehabbing upstairs, but he wants to expand the kitchen and bring in commercial grade appliances. I think Emelina is going to make lots of cookies here.”
“She’s over a hundred years old,” I say in astonishment.
“She wants to pass on the recipes. She’s not getting any younger is what she told Abe.”
I think about my mentor and how she has more energy than people half her age. “Do you think you can drop me off at Emory’s Auto Parts? I need to talk with Candace Dawson.”
“Okay. What did Erin want to talk about?”
“The State Police raided the Stillman’s place out in the woods, confiscated a bunch of guns, and arrested Jason Stillman for the murders of Jake and Brian.”
“That’s fantastic, Gwen. You made them look closer at both deaths.”
We pull from the curb. He U-turns at the next four-way stop and heads back towards the main street in town. I say nothing.
“That is a good thing, isn’t it?” I can tell he’s saying it as much for himself out of relief that I will be out of harm’s way as he is happy for me.
My tired brain is flooded with thoughts and emotions slapping at me like ocean waves at high tide. We stop in front of Emory’s, and I say to him, “Remember last year, when Erin and I went to that true crime symposium where the cops had botched the initial investigation?”
“Of course. What are you saying, sweetie?” He looks at me with a puzzled grin.
“It feels the same.”
Ken’s smile vanishes as he stares out the windshield.
Candace confesses, “I didn’t want to say anything at Brian’s gravesite yesterday, Mrs. Strong, but the police asked me who the boy’s phone carrier was on Friday. They were going to subpoena the records.”
“Can I still ask you for them?” I ask.
“Why? You got the police to re-investigate Jakes’s death, and they made an arrest.” She munches on a snack bar. I caught her just as she is taking a mid-morning break at her desk, and I am told fifteen minutes is all I have.
I honestly don’t have an acceptable answer for her now. Gee, Candace. I think the cops acted too quickly and I am not sure they arrested the right person. “I was just curious about a few things, and it would help me with the timeline, that’s all.” It’s the best I can do.
“You still want to look into this. Why?” She has a skeptical look on her face.
“I don’t think everything I was told by some of the witnesses was truthful, and I want to know who might have been lying to me.”
She flushes red at me. “You said that Jake didn’t kill himself. We now know who killed him thanks to you pushing the cops to take a harder look. Why do you want to upset the apple cart?”
I am talking to a sister who just buried her baby brother, and she is desperately seeking closure. “You’re right, Candace. I should leave it to the professionals now. Just one other thing. Did you know that Jake had a handgun?”
“No, I didn’t. He stopped hunting the day after he got his first buck. He never wanted to kill another thing after that day. I never knew him to own a gun.”
Sharon is taking a break from work. It’s been a rough morning for her. She started early, then her phone blew up with calls and texts about the arrest. Her hands tremble as she sets a cup of herbal tea down for me.
“I asked him about the gun,” she says, “and he told me that a customer gave it to him in trade. He said it was a relic from World War II.”
“Where did he keep it?” I ask.
“In the top drawer of his dresser.”
“Was it loaded?”
She nodded. “I grew up around guns in my parents’ house, so it didn’t bother me, having it there. It would be comforting, living out there on the edge of town when he worked late, knowing that I had some protection.”
“Did he say who the customer was?”
She shook her head.
“I regret not asking Brian more about the Stillman twins when I had the chance,” I say.
“Do you think that it would have changed anything?” she asks.
“Probably not, but I would have had a better answer to what the boys were involved in with the twins.”
We both look out the window as we sip our cooling tea. Finally, she says to me, “Well, I am off the hook now. Jake didn’t kill himself so as not to marry me.”
“How does that make you feel?”
“I know my husband-to-be didn’t commit death by suicide now. We always thought that, Mrs. Strong. It doesn’t make the hurt go away, but at least we have closure. I don’t have to wonder what was so terrible that he had to take his own life. Does that make sense?”
“It does, Sharon.”
I get up to go. She gets up and hugs me. “Thank you for doing this. It means a lot to me.”
I squeeze her back. I walk to the door and open it. A soft breeze wafts in. “Sharon, one other thing. Do you know what happened to Jake’s pillow?”
“It should be still on the bed.”
“Do you think Erin and I can borrow your key to look for it?”
She cocks her head. “Why, Mrs. Strong? They arrested Jason Stillman.”
“It’s just something I need to do. It’s a loose end that I have to pick at.”
She reaches to the board of eyehooks next to the door and slips a key off. “You can return it to Mabel and Warren. I won’t be needing it anymore.”