Chapter
Thirty
Leon and Fred sat silently, watching two butterflies flit around a tree in the center of Fred’s small yard.
Finally, Leon said, “Just what did you mean, Fred? About killing your sister?”
The old man cleared his throat. “I meant exactly what I said, Sarge.” He leaned back in his chair. “That woman terrorized Darrell. Beat him. Locked him in the closet. Burned him with cigarettes. I know I said there was something wrong with him. And there was. But my sister made him that way. She was sick in her head and in her soul.”
“I read the report of her death. Coroner ruled it accidental.”
“Yup. He did. Mr. A. W. Simpson. He was the coroner for this part of the country for many, many years. Used to be Dorothy’s neighbor. Knew how troubled she was.”
Leon straightened in his chair and leaned forward, staring at Fred. “Are you trying to tell me Dr. Simpson falsified his report?”
Fred shook his head. “Nope. Wouldn’t do that. He was a fine man with a good reputation. I’d never say or do nothing to put a damper on that.”
“So he didn’t write the report to protect you?”
Fred was quiet for a while, his eyes following the carefree butterflies. Finally, he said, “You know, Sarge, sometimes we’re faced with a situation. You gotta make a quick decision. Let’s say you were standing on the stairs with . . . Hitler. Hitler stumbles. You can reach out and grab him. Save him. Or you can give him a little push the other way. What would you do?”
Leon snorted. “Dorothy wasn’t Hitler, Fred. She was your sister.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m sworn to uphold the law. To protect life.”
“So you think saving him would protect life?”
Leon stared down at the ground for a moment. “Honestly, Fred? No. I wouldn’t save him. I’d probably push him.”
“Then that’s my answer to your question. I knew what was happening to that boy, and I had to do somethin’. I’d hoped it would save him, but in the end, I guess it didn’t really make any difference. Some people are too badly damaged. They just can’t be saved.”
“Now, I can’t agree with you there, Fred. God can save anyone. Heal anything. Turn the worst person around.”
“Can He give them a new heart?”
Leon grinned at him. “As a matter of fact, He can. That’s what He’s best at.”
Fred was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Will you do me a favor, Sarge?”
“The doctors give me about a month. Prostate cancer. Too far gone to fight. Before you leave, talk to me again about this God of yours. I think I’d like to know more.”
“I will. You have my word.”
Leon could hear the women chattering inside the house. The home’s unkempt condition sure didn’t seem to be getting them down. Of course, they loved to help people. Made them feel needed.
“What are you gonna do, Sarge?” Fred said.
“About what?”
“You know about what. About Dorothy. About the way she died.”
Leon took a deep breath and blew it out. “Well, seems to me Doc Simpson already took care of the situation. Deemed it an accidental death. It’s not like he’s around so anyone can contest his findings. Best if we just let sleeping dogs lie.”
“Thanks, Sarge.” Fred sighed. “Sure wish Darrell woulda turned out different. Woulda done anything to see that.”
“Maybe he did, Fred. You don’t know where he is or who he is now. Could be he turned his life around.”
“I tell myself that all the time. But in my heart, I know it’s not true.”
Leon shrugged. “Maybe your heart’s wrong. Better to keep a positive attitude. It’ll make it easier to sleep at night.”
“I wonder sometimes if I’d left things alone and Dorothy woulda killed him . . .”
“Hey. Nothing can be gained by thinking that way.” Leon turned toward Fred. “You’re a good man, Fred. You made a decision based on your concern for your nephew. Right or wrong, you were trying to protect him.”
“Wish I could get it out of my mind. It haunts me. Every day.”
“Time to let it go.”
Fred ran his hand over his stubbly chin. “Do you think God will forgive me?”
“I can guarantee it.”
“But will I ever be able to forgive myself?”
“That will be up to you. But it seems kinda silly to hold something against yourself if God has forgiven you, doesn’t it?”
“I . . . I guess you’re right, Sarge. Sounds right to me, anyway.”
The front door swung open and Linda stood there with two small plates. “Thought you two might like some of my brownies.”
“Why yes, ma’am,” Fred said. “That sounds wonderful.”
“Wait ’til you taste ’em, Fred,” Leon said, smiling at his wife. “You’re in for a treat.”
“Why, just for that, I’ll get you guys something to drink. Coffee? Milk?”
Fred frowned at her as he reached for his plate. “Ain’t got no milk, lady. And my coffee’s pretty old.”
“Nothing to worry about, Fred. We brought both.”
Linda went back into the house, and the door closed behind her. Fred took a bite of his brownie. “Good,” he said once he’d swallowed. “Can’t remember ever havin’ a better brownie.” He turned to look at Leon. “You’re a lucky man, Sarge. A really lucky man.”
Leon nodded. “Don’t I know it.”
As they sat and enjoyed Linda’s brownies, Leon turned over his conversation with Fred in his mind. This was one bit of information he wouldn’t be passing along. It wouldn’t change anything. It was time to walk away. His part in the drama of the Blue-Eyed Killer was at an end. Tomorrow he’d put in for retirement.
But now it was time to save a man’s soul.
Tony could hardly believe they were finally on their way down the mountain. Thankfully, the LEOs who had come to rescue them had four-wheel drive with more power than Bobby’s old SUV. The rain had finally stopped. The roads were wet, but the flooding seemed under control.
Tony sat in a vehicle driven by the deputy Marshal who shot Killian. He’d introduced himself as Gil Bennett. Killian was being transported to the hospital by two other deputy Marshals. Kate was in the back seat with Bobby, and Tony was up front with Gil.
The FBI had claimed the crime scene. Of course, local officers had a problem with that and had voiced their bid for territorial rights. It didn’t matter to Tony or Gil. Marshals weren’t investigators, so the crime scene didn’t matter much to them now. The FBI would transport the body. The most important thing was that Kate was finally free from Gerard. No testifying.
Tony wondered what she’d do now. Would she stay in Shelter Cove or go somewhere else? Would she consider going back to St. Louis? He doubted she’d be in a hurry to return to the city where she’d faced such horror. He also wondered about Gerard’s fans. Now that they knew he wasn’t B.E.K., they would probably fade away.
He glanced up at the rear view mirror. Kate was looking out the window, her expression pensive. Tony had noticed a change in her. As if she’d found herself again. He prayed she would finally be able to put the past behind her.
“So tell me more about Killian,” Tony said. “You say he was in league with Gerard?”
Gil shrugged. “I don’t know all the details. Just what your boss sent me. Killian knew a kid named . . . Barney something. Barney is Malcolm Bodine’s real name. I guess they started out together, until Bodine was killed.” He turned to look at Tony. “I’ve got a file from Batterson on my phone. Pictures, too. Anything yet?”
Tony tried Gil’s phone again. “Not yet. I guess we’re still too far up the mountain.”
“Might not work well until we get down. It’s real spotty out here.”
“Yeah, believe me, we found that out. You know, Gerard kept going on and on about some mentor,” Tony said. “Must have been Killian.”
“Maybe.”
“Why was Killian in Shelter Cove? That can’t be a coincidence.”
“I can’t believe Warren had anything to do with Gerard,” Kate said. “I know Warren Killian. He’s not anything like him. I doubt he even knows who I really am.”
“Well, unfortunately he does,” Tony said, turning around to look at her. “He told me he saw TV coverage of the trial and recognized you. Said he was trying to protect you.”
“So why did he show up with a gun? And why didn’t he put it down when I ordered him to?” Gil asked. “Your boss told me to watch out for you. He was right.”
Tony nodded. “He usually is. It is odd that Killian refused to drop his weapon. He knew he was in danger.”
“Probably didn’t want to go to jail,” Gil said.
“Maybe.”
Kate turned to Bobby. “You know Warren. Do you think he’d have anything to do with Alan Gerard? That he’s someone who wanted to hurt me?”
Bobby shook his head. “No, I don’t. He doesn’t seem like that type of person at all.”
“Do you agree with the EMTs, Deputy Bennett? Will he recover?” Kate asked.
“Please call me Gil. Yeah, he should be fine. I just wounded him enough to get him to put down the gun. I don’t like killing people I don’t know much about.”
“I’d like to talk to him,” Tony said.
“We’ll have to check when we get back to Shelter Cove. He needs to be transported to the hospital. Maybe after that you can visit him. ’Course, the feds are gonna be all over that. You might not get the chance to see him.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” Tony agreed with Gil’s assessment, but he was determined to get to Killian somehow. Although he wanted to believe the situation had been resolved, Tony still had questions. Why was Warren in Shelter Cove? Why did he come after them? To kill Kate? Why wait until she’s kidnapped and being chased by someone in law enforcement? Didn’t make sense. Besides, if Killian was in on Kate’s abduction, why not let Gerard just carry out his plan? And what did he mean about not being able to put down the gun?
There was one other huge concern. If Killian wasn’t Gerard’s mentor, it meant someone was still out there. Someone who could still be a threat.
Tony rubbed his forehead. He wanted to feel relieved. They’d been rescued. Kate was safe. But something inside him was still churning. As if he was still missing something. Something really important.