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STEVE WALKED INTO THE house and threw his keys on the table in disgust.
“The school called. Tom never showed up this morning. Do you know where he is?” Jennifer asked from the stairway.
Steve met her gaze. “He’s in jail.”
Her eyes went wide and before Steve could answer, the buzzer sounded, and he pressed the button to open the driveway gate.
“They have a search warrant,” Steve said nodding to the approaching squad cars before turning away from the wide-eyed shock in her face. “Neither of us got there in time.”
“Tom was there?”
“Yes. He took off early to try to talk to her. She was already dead when he found her, and I was about five minutes too late. The cops found him first.”
“You mean the Windwalker could have been close enough to kill Tom?”
Steve hadn’t considered that and the hair on the back of his neck bristled at the thought. The Windwalker didn’t discriminate between men and women, the only common thread was all his victims were exceptionally good looking, and Tom certainly fit the bill.
“Probably,” he said and crossed to the door when Jennifer didn’t move from the spot on the stairs.
Detective O’Keefe stood on the front step with Officer Callaway slapping a folded warrant in his palm. He handed it to Steve with an expression bordering on hostile. Steve opened the paper and waved the officers inside. “Just don’t make a mess,” Steve said as they stepped into the living room.
“We’ll do our best,” Officer Callaway said with a nod.
Steve headed out to the backyard, ignoring the chill in the air and slipped his phone out. He scrolled down the list of names until he found the one he wanted. It was time to call in some favors.
“District Attorney Kincaid’s office. How may I help you?”
“Is Mrs. Kincaid in the office?”
“Who may I say is on the line?”
“Tell her it’s Special Agent Williams,” Steve answered. Hold music replaced the chipper receptionist’s voice.
“Steve?” Carolyn Kincaid’s familiar voice filled the line.
“Hey, Carolyn. I’m calling to ask a favor.”
“What do you need?”
“I need the best criminal defense lawyer in Maine. Tom’s been arrested.”
Silence filled the line and papers shuffled in the background. “Why?”
“Have you been following the Windwalker case in the news at all?”
Another pause. “They can’t possibly think that sweet boy is the Windwalker?”
“That sweet boy is seventeen, and yes, that’s exactly what they think. They are going to try him as an adult.”
“I’ve got a name for you. Sheldon Kryminski. He’s out of Portland and he’s supposed to be the best in New England,” she said and rattled off the phone number.
“Thanks, Carolyn.”
“Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
“I will, and the next time we’re in New York, we’ll have to catch up.” Steve ended the call and walked to the stone wall, ignoring the slide of the door behind him. He stood watching the flow of boats in and out of the harbor and when Jennifer stepped next to him and sat on the stone ledge, he met her gaze.
“What happened?”
Steve sighed. “Tom wasn’t in his room this morning when I checked,” he said and scanned the water. “And while I know he’s not the Windwalker, I’m thinking back to every murder and trying to place where he was at the time. The bitch of it is, I can’t.” He paused and met her gaze. “I’m hoping you and CJ can vouch for his whereabouts, because Tanya certainly can’t.”
Invisible wings fluttered. “You know...”
“Ty, not now,” Steve snapped dismissing the invisible angel.
“Fine, but it’s your funeral,” Ty Ryan said.
Steve paused and cocked his head, turning toward the house. “What are you talking about?”
“If they search the attic, they might find a few things of mine.”
A chill skittered down Steve’s spine and he clenched his jaw trading a glance at Jennifer. “Like what?”
A flash of annoyance crossed Jennifer’s features and she crossed her arms. Steve knew she hated it when he had half conversations with his guardian angel.
“Like DVDs.”
Steve raised an eyebrow.
“From the complex.”
“Shit, Ty,” Steve spun and stared out at the bay. “Is there anything in there that implicated Chris?”
Silence met the question.
“That’s just fucking wonderful.”
“What?” Jennifer asked, her voice clipped with sarcasm.
“He says there are DVDs in the attic that incriminate Chris. This day just gets better and better.”
Jennifer’s brow creased for a moment and then the wrinkle smoothed, and her face transitioned into a hard glare. “He kept DVDs?”
“Apparently.” Steve closed his eyes and mentally scanned the house, honing in on Detective O’Keefe’s train of thought. His eyes snapped open and he spun, nearly sprinting to the house with Jennifer following.
Steve bounded up the stairs and swung Tom’s bedroom door open. His gaze landed on the mutilated photographs the detectives found under Tom’s bed. He stared at the number of slashes scored into each picture and his stomach tightened, sending cramps through his abdomen but he stood fast.
“Tell me about these?” Detective O’Keefe asked.
“Tanya broke up with him recently,” Steve answered. “He wasn’t taking it very well.”
The detective’s eyebrows rose. “Considering what he did, I’d call that an understatement.”
“Tommy didn’t kill anyone,” Jennifer said from behind Steve before sliding in front of him. “He was upset and hurt and angry, but that doesn’t mean he killed her.”
“Then what was he doing this morning?”
“They jogged together every day and that was one of their favorite paths. He was going to talk to her,” Steve said and looked at the pictures in the detective’s hands. “He wanted to try to patch things up.”
The detective fanned out the pictures so Steve could see them. “These don’t look like they’re from someone who wants to patch things up.”
Steve couldn’t argue with the detective’s deduction, because if the tables were turned, he would think the same way. “I believe my son, detective.”
“Jeffrey Dahmer’s parents believed in him too.”
“You did not just compare my son to that monster,” Jennifer snapped, her green eyes flashed with the anger etched in her features.
“Sir?” Officer Callaway said holding up a hunting knife, the sprayed edge revealed traces of blood.
Shock filled every fiber of Steve’s body, tingling his skin, but he kept his features neutral, like having a hunting knife in the bedroom was the most natural thing for a teenage boy. Don’t react, he sent the thought to Jennifer, but it was too late.
“So, he has a hunting knife,” she said. “He also has a fishing pole in the garage and a fish cleaning station too.”
Steve put his hand on her shoulder to stop the beginning of a full out angry rant and she shook it off, sending a glare in his direction. Despite his recent antics, Tom and Jennifer had become very close over the years and she was in mother bear mode right now, protecting him at all costs.
After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Jen, we should let them do their job.”
“What? So they can fabricate evidence against our son? I don’t think so,” she snapped, leveling her famous glare in the direction of Detective O’Keefe.
“They have a warrant and we have nothing to hide,” Steve said through clenched teeth. He wrapped his hand around her arm and pulled her away from Tom’s bedroom, but not before he saw the knife drop into an evidence bag.
He didn’t stop until he was in the backyard out of hearing range. “What the hell were you trying to do back there?”
“I am trying to protect Tom,” she snarled. “What are you doing to protect him?”
“I’m not obstructing justice.” Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m also getting the best defense lawyer in the state for Tom and while you and I know he didn’t do it, we will need to sit down and figure out where he was for every murder once the police leave. Understand?” Steve opened his eyes and met her gaze.
“CJ’s going to flip.”
“I know.” He wiped his hand over his face and glanced over his shoulder at the house. “I hope they’re out of here before he gets home from school.” And I hope like hell they don’t find those DVDs because that would bring on a shit storm of epic proportion.