| |
Elle entered the meeting room and took a seat near the back, alone. She’d woken up with a splitting headache and a vague recollection of nightmares she’d tried to push away. She wasn’t feeling sociable.
Allen Peabody had called the meeting at the Veil Falls Precinct. She’d received a specific invite. Yay her. Suzy Jin saw her enter, her eyes assessing her appearance with a frown of concern. Elle returned her best don’t ask questions scowl, not inviting comment. Next to Suzy sat Jerry Watson, the chief of police in Veil Falls, and Allen Peabody, the FBI agent she’d been working with.
Other officers that she only knew by sight filed in, conversation rolling over her as they shuffled about and found seats.
Another man, dressed casually in jeans and a burgundy Henley, took a seat a few down from her. He had to be in his sixties, but he carried it well, lean and hard, his jaw tight. He folded his arms and settled back, appearing disinterested. Elle knew that was a lie, the tension rolling off him and hitting her in waves, causing her shoulders to stiffen with tension. She met his eyes briefly, dark green and moody. He wasn’t happy to be here. She didn’t bother to tell him it had been she on the other end of the phone who had made the call and extended the invitation. Until then, she hadn’t been sure he’d come. But he’d been a cop once before he retired, and curiosity was part of the trade.
A throat cleared near the front of the room, and conversation fell off, eyes facing front. Jerry stood and briefly went over the nature of the meeting. She was surprised when he then turned it over to Allen Peabody, choosing to take a seat and defer the meeting to the FBI agent and let him take the lead. Allen stood, waiting to make sure he had everyone’s attention, his eyes pausing curiously on the stranger to her right, his lips tightening briefly as he took in the rest of the room’s occupants.
“I called this meeting to go over what we have, to make sure everyone is updated on the information we have so far.” He fiddled with the computer at a small desk, an image projecting across the face of the wide screen on the wall. A face appeared, weaselly and thin with dirty blond hair and a pockmarked face. “Using carbon dating and dental records, we were able to make a positive identification on the first victim, Sly Warhol. According to the report, he went missing sometime in November, two years ago in Marquette. Somehow, he ended up here, in Veil Falls, in the preserve, along the Hat Creek. Later, a second victim, Charlie Stine, was found.” He flipped screens, and a thin, muscular black man appeared, dreads framing a stubborn chin. “Mr. Stine disappeared in October, just last year.”
He shuffled some papers and flipped through a couple more screens, frowning when the resolution wasn’t what he hoped for. He sighed. “Sorry if it’s not clear—I’ll have printouts for everyone when we’re through. Both victims were known drug pushers from Marquette’s west side. They both disappeared around the same time of year. The remains of Sly Warhol are not complete, but we do have mostly complete skeletal remains on Mr. Stine. A wallet, with money and identification was found with Mr. Stine. Which tells me the unsub either didn’t expect the victims to be found or didn’t care. And this wasn’t a robbery. With two bodies, it’s enough to assume we may be dealing with a serial killer here. Special thanks go out to Elle, and Mia, bone canine, for helping us find the remains so quickly. And also, for finding the name and tracking down the original officer assigned to the missing person’s case.” He turned to the stranger in the back with a nod. The man stood up, not looking remotely happy to be there. “John Reilly worked at the Piper Ridge Precinct out of Marquette County. He retired last year but has graciously agreed to speak to us regarding the case, so please give him your full attention.” Watching John as he approached the front, Elle was pretty sure “grudgingly” was the more accurate term.
He gave a curt nod to Allen, who stepped aside. John turned, his sharp eyes assessing the crowd. “I’ll tell you what I know. That’s all I can do. I was right in the middle of a hunting trip just west of here. I can tell you that you likely do have a serial killer here, since I retired last year, and started working this case five years before that. I know this, because if they are connected, and I have every reason to believe they are, then Charlie Stine is actually the sixth victim. There were five others that I was looking at, all with the same background as dealers, from the same area in Marquette. The last I found right before I left, was our Mr. Warhol. That’s what I found. We can’t rule out more. And it also tells me that our killer is still in operation. He...or she...isn’t done.” He paused then, glancing at his watch. “I have to leave in fifteen minutes. I’ll take questions and answer them the best I can.”
Several hands shot up, and he called on the first one. Behind him, looking irritated, sat Allen Peabody. Elle wondered if he’d known John had no plans to stick around.
“You said they were all dealers. What in? Was there a pattern to what they were selling or where?”
“Not particularly, no. They dealt in the hard stuff, some of it laced with fentanyl to make it go further. They were definitely more interested in the bottom profit margin than the well-being of their customers.”
“That raises another question. Were you able to track down any overdose victims associated with them specifically?”
He nodded approvingly. “That was my thought as well. If someone fed my kid that garbage and he died, I’d definitely be looking for revenge. And yes, I found several. There was a young college student. Her mother pulled up roots and moved to the west coast following her death. Another couple divorced following their son’s overdose. The father later committed suicide. And there was a college professor. His son got tangled up with the wrong crowd at some party and indulged in the wrong party favor. Last I knew, he was still teaching at Northern University.”
Suzy Jin gave a notable gasp, her eyes flying to John. Elle knew it was the same university where she taught. Still, there were several hundred faculty members, and chances were good she didn’t know the guy. John caught her eye and finished. “There were others, of course. Those are some I remember. But Mr. Peabody has my report, and I kept careful documentation. It’s all in there.” He looked at his phone and gave a grunt. “But now you’ll have to excuse me. If you need more, you’ll need to reach me by phone, when there’s service. The woods are calling my name.”
Without another word, he gave a brief nod and moved down and along the outside of the room. He didn’t look in her direction, and as the door closed behind him, she was certain it was deliberate.
The meeting wound down, and after a brief discussion, the room emptied. Elle joined Allen and Suzy. The chief gave a disgruntled sigh when a message pinged on his phone, and he excused himself to go deal with something that needed his immediate attention.
Suzy spoke up. “Do you have those files? I’d like the name of that colleague. There’s a chance I know him.”
“I do. I made a copy for the chief, you, and Elle.” He handed them out, and Suzy immediately opened hers and began skimming the documents. Elle didn’t bother. There’d be time for that later.
Elle turned to Allen. “Do you really think the killer could be a disgruntled parent or something?”
He eyed her dispassionately. “I wouldn’t rule it out.”
She shrugged. “We still have only two victims. I’m not convinced this is a serial killing at this point. Could be part of a drug war? Cartel’s getting rid of the competition?”
Allen eyed her. “That’s possible, of course. Right now, were looking at all the angles.”
Suzy spoke up. “He has several others in here he noted. There was some foreman at a construction company out of Escanaba. His son was one of Charlie Stine’s victims—at least that’s what John Reilly theorized. A lot of it’s a jumble and speculation on his part. He was assembling a case here, but it looks a lot like he got cut off at the knees, and nobody cared enough to give the case the attention he thought it deserved.”
Allen nodded grimly. “A vigilante killer, getting rid of the riffraff on our streets. That wouldn’t receive a lot of sympathy, would it?”
“What about the victims...and their families, though? That should have made them sit up and take notice, right?” Suzy persisted.
Elle shook her head grimly. “Not necessarily. Think about it. You have drug pushers ending up dead...but their victims were still users, which isn’t going to garner a lot of sympathy and support from the public and receive the attention it should.”
“Here’s another one.” Suzy tapped a page. “Some bar owner at a biker club. I’ll have to read through it later...here we go. Oh my...” she whispered, her finger pausing on a name. “I was right. Paul Niedermeyer has been a professor of history for fifteen years at Northern. I’ve been there less than five.”
“So, you know him, then?” Allen asked.
She shrugged. “I know of him. He’s an acquaintance in an adjacent department next to mine. I’m not sure I’d recognize him if I saw him, but I’ll be looking him up now, of course. A touchy subject, but maybe he’ll be willing to talk to me about what happened. It would be nice to fill in the details.”
Allen nodded grimly. “That goes for all the names in this file, and any others we dig up. But remember, while they may be victims in this, the same as their deceased children, one of them may also be a killer. Whatever he’s trying to accomplish here, he may not be receptive to being stopped. Our unsub is dangerous, and he or she may not be done exacting atonement for past sins.”
#
MILES ANSWERED ON THE third ring as Elle stood at the kitchen sink, staring out the window. Soft flakes hovered, floating lazily to Earth. All was quiet but for the occasional crackle of the fire in the grate or a falling log. “Hi, it’s me, Elle. How are you doing?”
“Oh, hey Elle. Good to hear from you. Not much, just thinking about what I should get out of the freezer for supper. Or I might just settle for another bowl of cereal. You know, the perks of the single life.”
Elle didn’t laugh. “Are you busy right now?”
“No. Bored with my own company, really. Why?”
“You up for a bit of sleuthing?”
He chuckled. “What were you thinking?”
“Jacob Crawley and I cleared out the path on the north side of the river, just down from the second bridge. But Mia and I haven’t had a chance to check it out thoroughly.” And she remembered what John Reilly had said about there likely being more than just two victims if this was the same killer. And those icy white flakes said time was almost up if they wanted to find them before winter was on them for good.
She’d already tried Allen’s number. He hadn’t answered. And she was damned if she’d give Jacob a call. All these years, and he still unsettled her...and somehow made her mad just by breathing.
“Oh, and hey, you don’t fancy walking. I see how it is. What you really need is the quad.”
Elle laughed awkwardly. “Guilty. I have the flags and a thermos of coffee. After, I’ll spring for burgers and fries at Hops and Barley Sports Bar.”
“Sure, then. It’s a date.”
Elle nearly dropped the phone. “Oh, hold up there, slick. I...”
He chuckled. “Listen, it’s just a figure of speech already. I um...well...there’s this girl Melanie I’m interested in...” he stuttered nervously.
Elle grinned suddenly. “I get it. It is a date...between friends.”
He laughed. “I can pick you up in thirty. We’d better get going if we don’t want to be on the trail past dark.”
“We’ll be ready.”
#
THE QUAD COASTED TO a halt and Miles cut the engine, the silence sudden and final. The snow had increased, the flakes whirling faster, creating a wall of white. Above their heads, thick gray clouds roiled and pressed in on them. Miles looked nervous, glancing towards the wooded tangle on their left. “It wasn’t supposed to get this bad.”
Elle gave a shudder as a blast of cold slid along her neck, clipping a leash to Mia, who didn’t look happy. She eyed her sternly. “Yeah, deal with it. You aren’t running off in this stuff. I’m digging that burger later.” She looked over at Miles. “It’s not really an extensive area. I’d like to check along this bluff over the next half mile—there are a lot of sycamores—and the first two victims were found by them. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but it didn’t feel that way.”
“Sounds good to me, as long as we stick together and don’t leave the trail. And keep her on that leash. Hopefully, it will lighten up before long.”
Elle adjusted her face mask and joined him, Mia’s nose already buried beneath a log, snuffling. She called to her, giving her the command that it was time to work. Suddenly, all business, Mia sat, her eyes focused on Elle and waiting. She held her eyes sternly. “Mia, search.” She moved, her nose dropping, her tail a flat line behind her, tugging lightly on the leash when Elle didn’t follow as fast as she wanted. As she’d been trained, she swung out left and right, sweeping the area. Elle was especially careful to check out the base of the larger trees, in case her theory proved to be right. The snow didn’t let up until they’d reached the end of the line where she and Jacob had stopped clearing the path. The trail grew thick, becoming impassable beyond where they stood, and they turned back. Without a single hit from Mia, Elle felt the stir of disappointment. Maybe John Reilly had been wrong. Just in case, she angled them right, just beyond the trail and closer to the river’s edge. “Careful there, we don’t know how solid that bank is,” Miles cautioned. The words had barely left his mouth when Mia gave a sharp bark and sat. She’d found something.
“Got you,” Elle murmured, removing a flag and carefully pressing it into the ground, the orange oilcloth waving above the new snow by only a few inches. If they got a real winter blizzard, it would be buried until spring. Elle straightened and gave a tug on the leash to continue when a branch exploded right next to her head.
With a strangled cry, she dove sideways, taking Mia with her and screaming, “Get down!”
“Already there,” Miles hissed. He hid behind the tree next to hers, both looking up at the shattered branch, the echo of gunfire still dying in their ears. “Someone just shot at us!” he added inanely.
Elle pursed her lips at the obvious statement, her 9mm Ruger already in her hand as she searched the surrounding trees for a shooter. Where they were, pinned down with the river at their backs, there was nowhere to go. They needed to move, and she was the only one that was armed. Frantically, she searched the woods, realizing that it was already getting darker than she liked. They waited, unmoving, for several minutes when the unmistakable sound of a quad starting up reached their ears. It came from beyond the second bridge, and well past where they’d parked their own. Cautiously, they emerged, but whoever it was, the shooter was long gone.
“A hunter with really poor eyesight?” Miles guessed, looking pale.
Elle stared hard at him and took the lead. They needed to get back. “Maybe,” she added doubtfully, picking up a jog. It was an unfortunate coincidence all right. Elle reminded herself that she didn’t believe in them.
#
ELLE WINCED, TURNING toward the wall, pulling the pillow over her head, and pressing. The pounding continued, and she groaned. With a growl, she sat up and hurled the pillow at the door, blinking in the gray light of dawn shining through the old curtains that shaded the interior from the outside. Someone was knocking at the door, and they were persistent.
She sat up, kicking the covers aside, and reached for the pants she’d kicked off the night before, thrusting both feet inside them as she shouted, “Hey, knock it off and give me a moment already. I’m coming.”
She cast a glance through the curtains to the outside, frowning. But the day didn’t disclose any secrets. She got up and trudged to the door. Maybe it was her mysterious caller. The woman who had phoned the other day, desperate enough to beg for a place to stay from a stranger...and then hadn’t bothered to show up. She couldn’t imagine it could be anyone else. Allen or Suzy would have called. She’d left her phone on the table next to the bed.
She stared at the door and hesitated, wishing not for the first time that it was more than a simple wooden frame, that it offered some proof of the person on the other side.
“Hello? Who are you?”
There was no answer, and she frowned, realizing for the first time she’d set up a tentative meeting with a ghost, because the woman had never given her name.
Maybe she should have grabbed her gun.
The knock came again, more tentative. It was followed by a whisper of sound, making her lean in and place her ear to the frame. “Please.” She looked down and realized Mia, who’d been asleep at the foot of the bed, was next to her, staring at the door curiously, her head cocked.
Pursing her lips, she undid the lock and, against her better judgment, pulled the door open.
And nearly screamed, her heart jumping into her throat as she leapt backward and Mia began to bark, hair standing up on her back as she stood between Elle and the stranger that filled the entire door, so imposing she was sure he’d be forced to turn sideways to enter.
He was a giant of a black man, shaggy dark hair matching a beard in fierce need of trimming. The oddest shade of slate-blue eyes met hers directly, unblinking in their perusal. He made no attempt to cross the threshold, a good thing, she imagined. It would have had her scrabbling backwards for her piece.
“You’re trespassing,” she squeaked, drawing herself up, scolding herself for the wobble in her voice.
He didn’t move. “I won’t come in. Not unless you ask me to. I’m sorry for the intrusion, and I didn’t mean to scare you.”
His voice was rough, and Elle realized he had a hat in his hand, held in front, the bill crumpled in huge hands that twisted it relentlessly. “Who are you? And don’t you dare tell me you were just passing through!” she said, her voice gaining strength.
The smallest whisper of a smile crinkled the corner of his mouth. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Name’s August Hermes. Mr. Crawley said I should come.” He extended a dinner-plate-sized hand.
Alarmed, Elle instead thrust her fingers into her pockets, afraid of what that contact would tell her.
His eyes sharpened, narrowing with disappointment.
She frowned, feeling as if she’d failed some kind of test somehow. Instead, she stepped forward, grabbing a coat off the hook. “Let’s take this out onto the porch if you don’t mind. Mia needs to go outside.”
The dog brushed past them both, seemingly unconcerned with the stranger in their midst as she bounded down the steps and across the yard. On the porch, they both watched as she went about her business. “Why would Jacob send you?”
He returned his hat to his head, dark hair fanning out around the rim when he scrunched it down close to his ears. “I need work. He seemed to think you might have some for me. I’m pretty handy with a hammer or about anything else you need fixing.”
Elle blinked in surprise, feeling a slow roil of anger at Jacob and his presumptions that had sent this man on a fool’s errand. She stood straighter, turning with a scowl of irritation. “Well then, I’m really sorry he sent you all the way out here for nothing.”
“Place definitely needs work,” he noted, looking around, not missing any of what needed fixing.
Elle shrugged, her mouth tight. “It does. But I’m not in any position to be hiring the work out. You might not have noticed, but winter’s coming. I’m planning on tackling the worst of it in the spring. I’m sorry you wasted a trip.”
He eyed her sideways as Mia came bounding back across the yard. “I saw the roofs of several of the outbuildings on the way in. The first two cabins? They’ll fall in by spring if left unattended. And there’s plenty of work that can be done on the inside during the colder months.”
“I can see I’m going to have to have a very lengthy conversation with Mr. Crawley,” she ground out. “But you missed the point. I don’t want any help. I can’t afford it,” she added ruefully.
He sighed with disappointment. “I see. He told me it was a long shot. Well, just the same, I came all this way. Would you care to give me the fifty-cent tour of the place and the other cabins?”
Elle stared up at him, once more struck by his imposing size. At a guess, she figured he had to top six and a half feet and weigh in at close to two hundred and fifty pounds.
Mia ran back up the stairs and sat in front of them both, her ears perked and her tongue lolling happily as she glanced between the two of them. She’d always been an excellent judge of character.
“Why not? Try not to be too relieved that I let you off the hook so easily.”
He gave a deep chuckle that sounded like a bass cello and followed her down off the porch. “I’ll try to restrain myself.”
For the next hour, Elle gave him the rundown of the place, concentrating on the meeting hall and the larger, more dilapidated, of the cabins. He was right. They were nearly falling in on themselves. She agreed on the roofs, guessing they would be in the living rooms before the end of winter, and she’d be looking at a demolition team in the spring as opposed to a construction crew.
He said little, ducking his head under sinks, prodding at certain loose spots in the floor with more give than was safe, and noting all the nasty little details that needed tending to and she didn’t have money to get done.
After, they ended back at cabin number three. Elle frowned, realizing what she’d missed before. “How did you say you got here?”
He pulled out a worn pair of gloves and slipped them on, snugging the flaps of his trapper hat down over his ears and snapping the chin strap. “I didn’t. But I walked. Good bit of exercise it was, too.”
Elle stared at him in surprise. “That’s, like, eight miles or more.”
He smiled. “Nah. Closer to nine. It’s all right.”
Elle stiffened. “Well, I’m really sorry I ended up wasting your time, then.”
His smile slipped sideways, and his expression grew serious. “I know you can’t be paying me. You’ve been clear about that. But here’s the thing. I have nowhere to go, and I really don’t dig being in no homeless shelter for the winter with three feet of snow and subzero temperatures kissing my ample behind. So, what iffin’ we could strike a bargain to benefit us both? Let me work for my bed, fix up that little cabin number three for you, and stay for the winter. If you can see fit to give me enough money to buy a few groceries, that would be all I’d need by way of payment. I’d even see what I could do about shoring up those roofs before they fall down around your ears come springtime.”
Elle stared down at him from the top of the porch, her mouth open to apologize, to give him more reasons why she couldn’t help. Mia interrupted them both, giving a sharp bark. She’d gone down the steps and was nudging August Hermes’ hand. He bent down, gave her his attention, and crooned to her, his large hands rolling her ears between fingers the size of sausages. “I’m sorry, pretty lady. Not giving you much attention, are we, and that’s our shame.”
“Okay,” she blurted, wishing she could snatch the word back as soon as she’d said it. What was she thinking? She didn’t even know him, not really. He’d been wandering these parts awhile, it seemed. Who was to say it wasn’t he who had killed and buried two victims along the Hat Creek? On impulse, this time it was she who thrust her hand forward. Surprised, his huge paw engulfed hers. An immediate assault of profound grief and despair hit her. She concealed a gasp and retrieved her hand as quickly as was barely polite.
He looked at her oddly, closing his eyes briefly in relief. “Thank you. I appreciate it more than you can know.”
“Do you need a ride into town?” she said as he turned, Mia joining her and bumping the back of her knees as they both watched him make several long, ground eating strides down the drive.
He turned back and shook his head. “I’m good. You don’t mind, I’ll be there and gone and back before dark with what I need to settle in for the first night.”
Elle tipped her head an affirmative and turned towards the open door to the cabin, shutting it behind her. First a shower, and fresh clothes. And then she was going to think of all the ways she could conjure to do bodily harm to one Jacob Crawley.