JACK WAS STILL PUZZLING OVER HIS CONVERSATION WITH Sybil. He replayed it in his mind, trying to pinpoint what it was that had felt off-kilter. She’d been in such a hurry to get him off the phone, which was unlike her, telling him she’d get back in touch when she’d gone to the bank. If she was so eager to have Dakota come back, wouldn’t she have expressed a bit more urgency? He decided to wait until hearing from Sybil again before texting Dakota. So far, he’d heard nothing.
He was eager to see the autopsy reports, which he’d submitted data request forms for before the weekend. But he knew getting the information could take weeks, if not months, for the individual states to process. Luckily, he had a buddy on the police force in Virginia who had agreed to look into another murder-suicide that fit the profile Jack was investigating. His friend told him that the coroner had listed the cause of death not as suicide, but drug-induced psychosis, and the drug was, of course, methamphetamine.
This was no coincidence. It was time to pull out the big guns. He stared at his phone for a long time, then scrolled through his contacts until he reached “S.” The last time he’d seen Scotty, he’d almost punched him—it had taken three friends to hold him back. That was the night he saw his brother-in-law making out with a woman who wasn’t Jack’s sister Maria. The idiot hadn’t even had the brains to take her somewhere discreet but had brought her to the bar where they all used to hang out. Scotty had tried to give Jack some lame excuse, but he wasn’t buying it. He later admitted to Maria that the affair had been going on for the better part of a year, and she kicked him out. He moved in with the other woman for a few months, but then apparently came to his senses and begged Maria to take him back. She said no at first, but he wouldn’t give up, and six months later, he was back in the house. A few months after that, Maria was pregnant again.
That baby was now over a year old, and although Maria had forgiven him, Jack still hadn’t. Jack made sure he visited Maria and the kids at their house outside D.C. only when Scotty, who worked for the FBI, wasn’t around. Both she and Taylor had tried to get Jack to move past it, but he just couldn’t.
He exhaled and hit Scotty’s name on his phone screen.
A familiar voice answered on the third ring. “Jack? Is it really you?”
“Yeah. I know I’ve been scarce, but I guess it’s time to mend fences, as they say.”
There was silence on the line. “Jack, this is me. Don’t give me that bullshit.”
Before he’d cheated on Maria, Scotty had been Jack’s best friend. They’d played football together in high school and had stayed close through college. During their senior year, when Scotty had become interested in Maria, Jack had been kind of pissed at first. But he soon warmed to the idea of his best friend with his sister, warning Scotty that if he ever hurt her, he’d regret it. A year later, Jack had been best man in their wedding. When he cheated, Scotty hadn’t just broken Maria’s heart—he’d broken Jack’s, too.
He cleared his throat. “The truth is I need your help.”
“What is it? Everything okay with Taylor and Evan?”
“Yeah, it’s nothing to do with them. It’s a story I’m working on.”
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“Have you been seeing the news reports about these bizarre murder-suicides?”
“You mean like that preacher who killed his wife?”
“Exactly. That one is the eighteenth case. The perps are all upstanding citizens with no criminal records, no history of violence or mental illness, all flipping out and killing on the spur of the moment.”
“Okay, so where are you going with this?”
“What if I told you that I’ve already confirmed that three of them were found with methamphetamine in their systems and that no one in their family or close circle believes they ever used drugs?”
A loud exhale came over the line. “I guess I’d tell you that people have secrets. There’s nothing surprising about that.”
“Say that’s true. Say they were using. Don’t you think it’s strange that they all had psychotic breaks within this short window of time? Maybe they were lying and we’re looking at some bad meth on the streets. But what if they weren’t users, and they were somehow poisoned, perhaps intentionally?”
Scotty whistled. “Okay, Jack. That’s some paranoid shit. Maria told me everything you and Taylor have been through, but that’s a stretch. You know better than to jump to this kind of conclusion.”
Jack bristled. This had clearly been a bad idea. “Okay, fine. I should never have called you. Forget it.”
“Hold on. I’ll admit, the thing with that televangelist was cuckoo. But you know, these guys aren’t saints, even if they act like it. Even so, I’ll bite: What makes you think they were drugged?”
“I’ve seen meth users—you can tell. Maybe if this were coke or oxy, I’d be inclined to think they’d pulled the wool over their friends’ and family’s eyes. But I saw recent pictures. They looked healthy and wholesome. And my gut is telling me that there’s more to it. I need to see the other autopsy reports and tox screens. If they all had meth in their systems and no one around them suspected anything, then I think that’s a huge red flag. But either way, if they used willingly, they got some bad stuff, and if they didn’t, well, then we’re looking at something even scarier.”
“Okay. Send me what you have—the names and stories on the other incidents. I’ll see what I can dig up.”
“Thanks, Scotty.”
“Oh, one more thing?”
“What?”
“I’ll deliver the report in person. I want to see you, and ‘mend the fence,’ as you so charmingly put it.”
Jack clenched his fist. “You broke the code, man. I told you a long time ago to take good care of my sister.”
“I know.” Scotty’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry for it, you know I am. But are you telling me you never made any mistakes?”
Jack thought about Dakota and was filled with shame. Of course he’d made plenty of his own mistakes. He had no right to judge Scotty or to hold a grudge, but it was hard for him to let it go. This was someone he’d trusted with not only his friendship, but with his family. He wanted to forgive him. He wanted to have his friendship back. But he didn’t know how. Maybe this could be a start.
“Fine. Give me a call when you have it and we’ll make that happen.”
“Good. Take care, Jackie.”
Jack stiffened at the endearment. “Slow your roll, man. Let’s take it one step at a time. Later.” He ended the call. Opening his laptop, he typed Pastor Montgomery Pearson in the search engine. He flinched when he saw the thumbnail for the video of the attack. He scrolled down and saw a news alert from a couple of hours ago.
Apparently, the pastor’s condition had been downgraded from critical to serious and he was recovering from a nine-hour surgery on his back, which he’d broken in the fall from the stage. His wife hadn’t been so lucky. She had died yesterday. Jack assumed Pearson was going to be in the hospital for a while and wondered if an arrest had been made yet. Most likely there would be police stationed outside his door, in any case.
Jack knew that he’d discover more if he could talk to Pearson, the first one not to succeed in ending his life. He found the website for Pearson’s church and went to the contact page. He typed a message, explaining who he was and said he thought he might be able to help. Hopefully someone would read it and get the message to the pastor. On a whim, he called the church, too, but was met with a recording saying the mailbox was full. Not surprising—he could only imagine the calls they must be getting. He sighed. He’d try again tomorrow, but it was likely that the only way he was going to get through was to go there in person.
Jack put the phone down and got up. He needed a run. Grabbing his headphones and putting on his running shoes, he headed outside. The sun beat down on him, but the temperature was only in the seventies so it was pleasant. He ran down the hill away from their house and toward the river.
He thought about what Georgia had said about that hormone connected to infidelity. He didn’t like thinking that brain chemistry could control the way people behaved. Even though he knew now that he’d been manipulated to fall for Dakota, he couldn’t completely forgive himself for betraying Taylor, the only woman he’d ever loved. Jack wasn’t willing to accept that humans didn’t have free will. If that were true, then what was the point? Because if it was true, then it meant they were all just a bunch of robots disguised as flesh and blood.