Lucy felt more like a person again after a good night’s sleep and normal clothes, including her heels, which gave her a slight height advantage she enjoyed. She needed the boost of confidence today as she formally met with Chief Dobson and the task force.
After Bryce and the police had left and the house was quiet again, she’d spent the evening going back through the case files until sleep had finally forced her to give in.
She’d taken up the files again this morning over breakfast even as a freshly showered and shaved Bryce arrived in time to enjoy Mrs. Ferguson’s breakfast spread, at her insistence of course.
“Did you ever contact your brother?”
A mournful look spread across his face. “I haven’t. I’ve tried calling and texting with no response. He has a place on the outskirts of town he bought last year where he spends a lot of his time. It’s an old warehouse he uses for woodworking. I’m going to swing by today to see if he’s there. I can’t imagine where else he would be.”
Lucy hoped he was there. She was in town to defend a man she hadn’t even met. His brother was going out of his way to fight for his innocence, and it seemed to Lucy he couldn’t even be bothered to show up. It seemed like it had been days since Bryce had first started trying to reach him, but she realized it had been only a day. Just one day since she’d been abducted, shot at and threatened.
The more she thought about the circumstances of both the threatening note and the break-in last night, the more she was convinced it was the work of someone other than the Back Roads Killer. It didn’t fit with a serial killer’s profile.
Bryce took her hands as he parked the truck in front of the police station. “Don’t be nervous,” he told her. “Chief Dobson is loud and obnoxious.”
She waited for the “but,” only none came. It was obvious he held no love for the man, and why would he? This was the guy who was trying to convict his brother of murder.
“Tell me how you really feel about Dobson.”
He gave her a wry smile as he got out of his truck and walked around to her door. “He’s allowing you to work with the task force, so I suppose I owe him for that.” He helped her out, and she noticed his hands remained on her waist even once she was on her feet. She liked it.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with obnoxious and loud. I am an FBI agent after all. It comes with the job.”
His lips curved into a smile, and it surprised her how much she liked it. She hadn’t noticed a man’s smile in a long time. Not since Danny.
“What are you doing with him?” a voice demanded from behind her.
Lucy turned to see a dark-haired woman with worry lines prominent around her eyes and mouth. “Excuse me?”
“Why are you talking to him? Aren’t you the FBI agent everyone is talking about? You’re supposed to be finding evidence to prove Clint Tippitt killed my daughter, not spending time with his brother.”
She knew she was already news around town—given that reporters had been camped out under her hospital window—but Lucy hadn’t expected to be confronted while walking in town. “I’m Agent Lucy Sanderson, but my job isn’t to—”
“You have to make him tell you what he did with my daughter,” the woman said, her fingers pressing deep into Lucy’s arm. “My daughter Jessica was the first girl who went missing. You have to make that lowlife Clint Tippitt tell you what he did with her. It’s been four years. I want to bury my daughter. Please.”
Her pleas were desperate and sincere, and Lucy felt for her. If and when the time came to interrogate Clint, Lucy would come up with a behavioral profile to help the police ask questions that might get Clint to give up Jessica’s whereabouts. “I’ll do my best to find out what happened to your daughter, ma’am. Any way I can assist the police to close this case, I’ll do it.”
The woman pulled out a photo of Jessica with her family. “She was so young, Agent Sanderson. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. I warned her about hanging out with that Tippitt boy. That whole family is no good.”
Her face seemed to soften when she spoke about her daughter. Lucy couldn’t imagine the pain she was going through knowing that someone had taken her child from her, but she could still feel the wash of guilt arise in her at knowing she’d played a part in taking the children and grandchildren from not one, but two sets of parents.
Mrs. Nelson’s face hardened as she looked past Lucy, then rushed toward Bryce. “You! You stay away from this, Bryce. This has nothing to do with you.”
“I’d say it does, Mrs. Nelson, if you’re here to poison Agent Sanderson against my brother.”
“He’s a murderer!”
“There has never been any proof that Clint did anything to your daughter.”
“He’s a murderer like his father before him. You Tippitts are nothing but a family of murderers.”
Lucy was surprised by that remark, and one look at the way Bryce reddened and avoided her gaze told her there was more to the story about his father.
She noticed Bryce’s jaw tense and the way he slipped his hands into his pockets in an effort to keep control of his emotions as this lady spewed accusations at him. What was it like having such hatred gushing at you like that? And the way Mrs. Nelson was lunging at him, Lucy suspected she was close to lashing out physically.
“Stop it,” Lucy told them both, getting between them. “Stop it. Mrs. Nelson, I assure you I will do everything I can to find out what happened to your daughter, but blaming Bryce for something his brother might have done will get you nowhere.”
Mrs. Nelson shrank at Lucy’s words. “So it’s Bryce now, is it? I see he’s already reeled you into his web of lies. That’s what they do, Agent Sanderson. They’re all liars and killers.” She grabbed Lucy’s arm again and dug in. “Don’t fall for their lies. Don’t let them win.”
Lucy pulled her arm away. “Mrs. Nelson, please calm down. You’re being unreasonable.”
She stalked away, and Bryce had the good sense to step away too and take several deep breaths.
“She really believes your brother did something to her daughter.”
“Chief Dobson has convinced her that Clint was involved, and she refuses to hear anything else. I don’t guess he had to try hard to convince her. Clint was always the main suspect in her disappearance.”
She studied him. Since she’d arrived in town, he’d been a pillar of strength and courage, but now he shrank from her. “What did she mean when she said Clint was like his father?”
“It’s nothing. Only gossip and rumors.”
“I’d like to be the judge of that.”
“What does it have to do with any of this? It has no bearing on whether or not Clint killed those women, does it?”
He was right. Knowing something terrible about his father shouldn’t change the facts of the case. And her profile was based on facts, not on something that happened in a suspect’s childhood. But a killer’s childhood could play a role in his psychology...if Clint was the killer. But she could see Bryce wasn’t ready to share that story, and she wasn’t going to push him for it yet. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Rumors don’t matter. I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”
She turned to walk toward the police precinct, but his next words stopped her.
“When I was eleven, my father was accused of killing a woman in our church he’d been having an affair with.”
It seemed he’d decided it did matter. She turned back to him and saw the pain those words, and that memory, caused him. His jaw was set in anger, but his face was red with shame. “Was he convicted?”
He shook his head. “He shot himself before the case ever went to trial. He left a note saying he couldn’t live with how he’d hurt his family. In this town, taking his own life was as good as a confession.”
The angst in his expression was enough to make Lucy’s heart break. He was a good man who was fighting so hard for his family. And he was right. Knowing about his father’s past deeds shouldn’t alter her profile, but it certainly had to alter people’s opinions. “I’m sorry.”
“I figure someone would have told you before the day was out, so I’d better go ahead and say it first.” He shook his head in disgust. “I told you the members of my family weren’t exactly upstanding citizens.”
She doubted anyone felt that way about Bryce.
He leaned against his truck. “I’ll be waiting here for you...if you still want me to.”
She wouldn’t give him the option of self-pity. Besides, she still felt more comfortable with him by her side, and this news didn’t change that.
She moved close to him, leaning in, then placed a kiss on his cheek, surprising even herself by the bold move. “I’ll see you soon,” she said, hoping to reassure him that she was still on his side. But her knees quivered as she walked away, and it had nothing to do with the beating she’d received and everything to do with the man she’d just kissed.
She headed inside and asked the receptionist to let Detective Ross know she was here. Minutes later he appeared and led her into the chief’s office. Chief Charles Dobson was a large man with a presence that filled the room even as he sat behind his desk. Lucy stood up straighter. He struck her as the kind of man who commanded respect from those who worked with him.
He introduced himself to Lucy. “You’re the FBI profiler we were expecting?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, it seems you’ve already met the man we wanted you to profile. That’s not FBI protocol to get abducted by the killer you’re profiling, is it?”
She felt her face redden as embarrassment rushed through her. “No, it’s not.” But she wasn’t going to let the Whitten Police Department be dissuaded from utilizing her skills because of this awful incident. “But it does give us an advantage.”
“How is that? I heard you weren’t able to identify the man who attacked you.”
“I never saw his face.”
“Great. Our only living witness, and you know nothing.” His dismissive tone rankled her. Did he always speak to victims in such a manner? “I didn’t say I had nothing. I may not have seen his face, but I can still be a witness. I was able to give your task force valuable information such as the attacker’s approximate size and weight, where he attacked and what his method of abduction was. I can tell you where I was abducted from and what area of town I was in when I escaped so you can begin a search for a hideout of some kind. He tried to drug me with a needle to my neck, which means he uses some form of drugs to incapacitate his victims.”
He looked at her and grinned, his interest obviously piqued. “Okay, you got me. You’re a witness. The task force processed the scene where he abducted you yesterday. We’ll go over the preliminary reports during the meeting. Anything else you’ve remembered that might be of help?”
“No, Chief. I’ve shared everything I remember with Detective Ross.”
He nodded. “Do you want me to call anyone from the FBI for you? Do they need to send someone else down here?”
“That won’t be necessary. I’m still able to do my job. This is only a sprained ankle and some cuts and bruises. I’m perfectly capable of continuing on.”
“Good. Now let’s talk about these threats you’ve received.” He turned to Ross. “Do we have any leads on those?”
“No, we don’t, Chief. The card from the flower shop had only Lucy’s fingerprints, plus the nurse from the hospital and Jake Gibbons, a college-aged worker at the store. We have those on file from a DUI. That’s his only offense on record.”
“What about the break-in at the Ferguson home?”
“Fingerprinting hasn’t turned up anything there either, and we’ve canvassed the neighborhood. Several people reported seeing someone running from the house, but no one could describe him. It was too dark.”
He thought about it and rubbed his face, then turned to Lucy. “What’s your take on these threats, Agent Sanderson? If this guy is targeting you—”
“I don’t believe that’s the case, Chief. I don’t believe the threats are coming from the killer.”
“So you arrive in town, are abducted by a serial killer, then receive threats telling you to leave town and you don’t think they’re related?”
“I don’t. It doesn’t fit the profile of this killer. It’s my understanding that so far he’s shown no interest in connecting with law enforcement, and the behavior we’re witnessing—leaving threats and luring Mrs. Ferguson from the home, for instance, so she won’t be hurt—indicate someone who doesn’t like the one-on-one intimacy that are trademarks of these murders. The person behind these threats doesn’t enjoy getting his hands dirty the same way our serial killer does. He thrives on it, and I believe if he were responsible for these threats, Mrs. Ferguson would be dead and so would I. He wouldn’t be threatening me so I’d leave town.”
“Well, who else would do this?”
She’d actually given that a lot of thought. “Anyone who doesn’t want or appreciate FBI interference in this case. Perhaps someone who wants the glory of finding this killer for himself or his precinct.” It wouldn’t be the first time she’d witnessed hostility from local law enforcement about the FBI coming in on a case, but it would be the first time it had gone to the extreme of trying to threaten an agent into leaving town.
Chief Dobson stood and stared at her hard. She’d expected as much. She’d accused someone in his department of being behind the threats against her. “Are you suggesting one of my people is responsible?”
“I’m only surmising. It could actually be anyone in town with a grudge against the FBI.” She needed to contact her supervisor and find out if anyone in town was under FBI investigation or showed up on their radar.
But Chief Dobson was having none of her speculation. “Isn’t it possible you brought this threat to town with you? Someone from one of your old cases perhaps?”
She couldn’t think of anyone who had a problem with her besides someone who might be angry over Danny’s actions, or the extended members of the Williams family, relatives of those who’d died in the van. But why attack now, half a continent away and a year later? That made no sense. And she hadn’t worked any high-profile cases since before Danny’s death that would cause anyone to want to harm her. “It’s unlikely. This threat has to be coming from someone in Whitten since they apparently want me to leave town.” But just to be safe, she would also have someone go through her previous case files to see if anyone she’d had a hand in convicting had recently been released or was living in the area.
Another officer knocked on the office door, then stuck his head in. “We’re ready for you, Chief.”
Chief Dobson stood. “We’ll keep increased patrols on the Ferguson B&B for now, but unless another threat occurs, our focus needs to remain on the killer.”
“I agree,” Lucy told him. She also wanted to know who was behind the threats, but so far, no real damage had been done. Bryce had promised to come by the Ferguson home and paint over the offending threat later today. A killer on the loose had to take precedence.
Lucy followed the chief and Detective Ross to a conference room where several officers sat around a large table. She limped to her seat, acutely aware that she’d already been damaged in the eyes of this police force. She was no longer the professional tough-as-nails FBI profiler she imagined they’d been expecting. She was now a victim of the very killer she’d been sent here to find.
It hurt, knowing their opinions of her were already tainted. She’d been hoping for a clean, fresh start with this case, another opportunity to prove she was still that capable agent she’d been before Danny’s death. But their opinions of her couldn’t distract her from doing her job.
She listened as Detective Ross updated the task force on the evidence they’d collected from her crime scene. “We located a full syringe, which Agent Sanderson claims the assailant tried to inject her with. We’re sending the contents of the syringe to the lab for processing, but we surmise it was some sort of sedative.”
Lucy spoke up. “Based on the way he blitz attacked me, I’m guessing he used the sedative to incapacitate his victims, then placed them in his trunk for transporting the way he did with me.”
“That would have been easy for him given that, like you, Agent Sanderson, two of the remaining victims were on foot when they were abducted.”
Lucy dug through her files for the reports on twenty-two-year-old Ashley Carlton, who’d been abducted while walking home at night from a convenience store, and fourteen-year-old Kimberly Wren, who’d sneaked out of her house at night to meet a friend. Both females were found beaten, raped and murdered days after their abductions.
The other victim, sixteen-year-old Presley Oliver, had vanished while driving home from a football game. “Is it possible she had car trouble or he pushed her off the road?” Lucy asked.
Ross shook his head. “Our techs went over her car. They found nothing wrong with it.”
“Then he found a way to lure her out of it.” If they could uncover some tactic he used, such as pretending to be a police officer in order to get her to pull to the side of the road, that would be an important aspect of the case to focus on. But he hadn’t used any tactics like that on Lucy. He’d simply attacked her. “Have there been reports of anyone approaching women pretending to be police officers or someone using a ruse to get women to pull their cars over to the side of the road?”
Ross glanced at the other officers, who all shook their heads. “Not that we’re aware of.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to ask for the public’s help in reporting any such incidents. There may be women he approached who never pulled over so he moved on. If it worked on this victim, it’s possible he’s tried it again.”
Chief Dobson spoke up. “Let’s have the Public Information Officer put out a request for anyone who’s witnessed this happening to call us and report it. We should be able to get the request on the news at noon.”
“Anything else?” Ross asked her.
“Yes.” She referred to the case files again. “He’s increasing the amount of time he spends with each of his victims. Presley Oliver was found three days later, while Ashley and Kimberly were found five and six days, respectively, after they were abducted. This shows he’s comfortable holding these women for long periods of time. He must have a secure place to keep them, somewhere they can’t escape and where no one can hear them or interrupt him.”
“That could be almost anywhere,” one of the officers stated.
“True, but it’s an important detail to keep in mind as leads come in. Before I managed to jump from the trunk of his car, the suspect turned off from the main road onto a dirt road heading into the woods. He had to be going somewhere.”
Ross pulled up a map on the screen and pointed to an area. “This is where Bryce said he found Agent Sanderson wandering on the road.” He circled an area. “If he turned off the main road, he was likely heading into the woods. This area is mostly used as hunting grounds. Let’s start a search of the area for any place he could be holding these women. Sheds, trailers, campers—check anything you can find.”
Ross’s idea for the search seemed solid and Lucy hoped it would turn up something, but even from the map on the screen, she could see that the area was massive. She still had to continue with her profile. “I’d like to know more about the first victim, Jessica Nelson. What made you tie her disappearance to the other murders? There doesn’t seem to be much in common with the other cases.”
“We were already investigating the Nelson case. When another woman went missing, it seemed logical to assume they were connected.”
“Okay, but at some point you had to see there was very little evidence to connect her case with the others. For starters, there’s a two-year span of time between when she disappeared and when the next victim was abducted. And only months between the subsequent abduction and murders. Plus the bodies of the other victims were found. We know what happened to them.”
“Her parents have come to terms with the fact that she was killed—” one of the officers began.
“And why do they believe that?” Lucy interrupted. “Because you do? Because you’ve painted the scenario around town that Clint Tippitt killed her in an act of rage and disposed of both her body and her car so well that neither have ever been found despite exhaustive efforts by this police force? What you’ve spread is conjecture.” She saw by the looks of surprise on their faces that they weren’t used to being contradicted. What kind of task force wasn’t open to new ideas?
“We haven’t spread anything, Agent Sanderson. But when the next girl went missing then turned up dead, people quickly came to their own assumptions.”
“There’s no evidence of that,” Lucy interjected. He and everyone else looked her way. Clearly they’d already concluded that Jessica Nelson was dead. “I understand your department’s assumptions, but there’s no proof that she’s dead. She should still be classified as a missing person.”
Chief Dobson stood and folded his arms. His expression mimicked those of his officers. They didn’t like her assessment, and they didn’t agree with it.
“I know you’ve been through something, Agent Sanderson. That wasn’t the best introduction to our little town. I also know you’re grateful to Bryce Tippitt for his assistance to you and the fact that he brought you in. I do hope you won’t let that color your judgment on this matter.”
He was heading right where she’d been fearful he would go. After all, she was now pretty certain they wanted this profile to help implicate Clint Tippitt in these murders, and were only interested in leads that directed them toward that goal. They had little else in the way of evidence to implicate him in the other murders. With three dead girls, they were looking for someone to pay for the crimes.
But she wasn’t in the business of creating profiles to help with prosecution. Her profiles were meant to help identify offenders and, in this case, she wasn’t yet convinced of Clint Tippitt’s involvement in the murders. Yet he wasn’t wrong about her being able to maintain objectivity. Her face burned with embarrassment, recalling how she’d kissed Bryce earlier. How was that remaining objective?
She stared at the chief and put on her best professional demeanor. “This isn’t my first trip out of the academy, Chief. I’ve worked on several high-profile cases, and I can assure you the profile I create will in no way reflect any personal preference. I’m about the science of behavioral analysis, nothing else.” She paused. That wasn’t exactly true. “I will be including my own abduction experience to see if it lines up at all with the other cases, but that will be the extent of my personal investment.”
He wouldn’t be wrong in suggesting she call someone else in to complete this profile, but she was going to attempt to steer him away from doing so. She was here now, and this had turned personal. This offender had targeted her, attacked her, abducted her. She was going to do her best to separate the emotional response to her ordeal from the cold, hard facts, but they were in uncharted territory when it came to the events she’d experienced. They had no way of knowing how these victims had been lured in by their attacker, only her experience of being grabbed to assume that was his modus operandi. He’d meant her harm, and she figured it was safe to assume there wasn’t more than one homicidal maniac roaming around this town.
The chief glanced at his cell phone, then addressed the room before ending the meeting. “I’ve been informed that Clint Tippitt presented himself to the emergency room early this morning needing stitches for a cut on his right arm—the same arm Agent Sanderson claimed she scratched.”
A gasp went through the room, and Lucy felt her own breath catch. She’d advised everyone to be watching for someone showing up with a bandage or arm wound, but she’d never expected this turn of events.
“I’m sending a patrol car to pick him up for questioning in Agent Sanderson’s abduction.”
“I’m sure I didn’t scratch him severely enough to need stitches,” Lucy said.
“According to the charge nurse, he claimed his injury was the result of a table saw wound. It’s possible he cut himself with the saw to cover up the scratch you gave him.” It made little sense to her that someone would do that to cover up a scratch, but Chief Dobson seemed sure of himself. “We’re also going to have the forensics team go through his car for evidence.” He glanced at Lucy. “It’s possible that it’s the same car you spent some time in.”
Chief Dobson headed out, but Lucy stopped to gather her thoughts. This should have been a good turn of events, but her only thought was how devastating this news would be to Bryce.
Bryce used the time Lucy was meeting with the task force to try to track down his brother. It had already been over thirty-six hours since he’d last spoken to or heard from Clint.
He headed to the main highway out of town. Clint had bought a structure that used to be a storage building. He’d fixed it up with woodworking materials to pursue his carpentry hobby, and even though he had a room at the ranch, he spent most of his days and nights there. He’d always been good with his hands, and could probably make a decent living at it if he really tried.
Bryce pushed back those kinds of thoughts. They were counterproductive. He hated seeing his little brother with no ambition and no clear definition of what he wanted from life. He was nearing thirty and still seemed to be drifting.
He checked that attitude as well since he himself didn’t have a clear idea of where his own life was heading now that his career with SOA was probably over. What was he supposed to do next? Rejoin the marines? Private security? Stay home and build his ranch? On some level, staying in Whitten appealed to him, but he was certain he would get bored quickly. He wasn’t the type to sit around and do nothing. He needed a purpose and a mission.
He tried Clint’s phone again, and again it went to voice mail. Where was he? He prayed his brother was out with a group of people who could vouch that he’d been nowhere near the highway when Agent Lucy Sanderson was abducted.
But even as he lifted that silent prayer toward heaven, he knew it was unlikely. His brother had grown into more of an introvert over the years since his girlfriend, Jessica, had gone missing and was presumed murdered. He preferred to spend his time alone. He didn’t have many friends, and that was in part because of the police, who continued to name him a killer.
Lord, I know Lucy came to town to find a killer, but could You please also help her find proof of Clint’s innocence?
She had the killer’s DNA. That would certainly put to rest any rumors about his involvement, but those results were weeks away and any number of things could happen before then. The local cops were fired up to bring down his brother in their desire to stop a killer. He hoped Lucy would be more open-minded in her investigation.
He pulled into the parking area around the building and got out. Clint’s car was in a space nearby, and Bryce heard music blaring from inside. At least he knew he was there. He knocked but was sure his brother couldn’t hear him over the music. He checked the side door and found it unlocked, so he entered.
Clint was standing at his table saw working. Bryce picked up his brother’s phone, the source of the blaring music, and turned down the volume. Clint finally noticed him, then turned off the saw. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been trying to call you. Why haven’t you picked up?” He tossed Clint his phone and his brother glanced at the screen, obviously noting an abundance of missed calls and texts.
“I’ve been busy. And I’m not used to having to report in with you. I got along just fine when you were gone, remember?”
Bryce grimaced. He did remember, and he felt guilty for not being around for Clint, but he’d had his own life to live. And it was obvious to Bryce his brother had been ignoring his calls and messages. “Multiple arrests plus suspicion of murder? I wouldn’t call that fine.”
He didn’t mean to sound like a parent, but Clint’s face hardened. “I’m an adult, aren’t I? I don’t have to answer to you, Bryce. I needed some time alone.”
“I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just—”
Clint slipped off his jacket, revealing a bandage on his arm sticking out from beneath a tear on his shirt.
He zeroed in on that bandage and recalled Lucy saying she’d scratched her attacker on the right arm. “Wh-what happened to your arm?”
Clint shrugged it off. “I cut myself with a table saw while I was woodworking last night.”
This did not look good for his brother. A moment of doubt filled him. He didn’t really believe his brother was capable of murder. But how could he ignore the signs?
“I haven’t seen or spoken to you for over a day. Are you saying you’ve been here that entire time? Alone?”
“Yeah. I’m building a bookshelf for Meghan for her birthday.”
“That couldn’t have taken more than a few hours.”
“I had some other projects I was working on too.”
“Were you alone?”
Clint gave him a sideways glance. “Why? Are you my pastor now too?”
He didn’t care for the bite in his brother’s tone, but he let it go. Clint had had a lot of trouble in his life, and Bryce bore some of the responsibility for it. “No, I was only curious if you had anyone with you. Anyone who can attest you were where you said you were.”
Clint picked up his coffee cup to take a sip then set it down, his face ashen. “Why are you asking me about an alibi, Bryce?”
“Another woman was abducted the night before last, Clint. She managed to escape and I found her.”
He gulped hard. “Did she see who grabbed her?”
Bryce shook his head and watched his brother for signs. He was hoping he didn’t see relief on his face. Clint’s expression was bland, but he did seem worried.
He stood up. “I—I’ve been here alone. I don’t have an alibi, Bryce. They’re going to say I did this, aren’t they?”
He knew as well as Clint that the police would zero in on him.
“There’s something else,” Bryce told him. “The woman, Lucy, she’s an FBI profiler who’s in town to help find the person who’s been abducting these women. She said she scratched the man on the arm while she was fighting with him. They took skin samples from beneath her fingernails.”
He scratched at the bandage on his arm and glared at his brother. “And now you see this and wonder if I did it, don’t you? I didn’t.”
“I want to believe you, Clint, but that bandage...it’s throwing me for a loop. It’s right where she said she scratched the guy.”
He rolled up his sleeve and pulled off the bandage, revealing several stitches. “I cut myself with the saw. I nearly passed out from the pain, but I managed to get to the ER to have it stitched up.” He rebandaged his arm. “I’m sure they’re calling the police as we speak.”
He had some hope. Clint’s wound didn’t look like he’d been scratched. It looked like what he said it was, a cut from a table saw. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have driven you to the hospital.”
Clint shrugged. “Like I told you, I’m used to doing things on my own when you’re out of the country.”
He heard a car outside and walked to the window. Apparently, Clint’s guess had been correct. Two police cruisers were pulling into the lot. “Looks like you were right. They did call the police. They’re here now.”
Clint sighed and leaned against a chair. “When will this nightmare be over?”
Bryce opened the door and stepped out as two officers he knew got out of the car. “What can I do for you, Josh?” Josh Whitley was an acquaintance from church, while he’d met the other guy, Leonard Stubblefield, when Clint had been arrested for a previous DUI.
Josh did the talking. “We’re here to take Clint in for questioning. Please send him out. We’ll be impounding his car too in order to search it. The wrecker is on its way.”
Clint stood behind him but stepped outside. “I’m here,” he said. “No reason to cause a fuss.”
Stubblefield handcuffed him, then led him away.
Bryce watched, knowing there was nothing he could do to help his baby brother. He felt helpless and uncertain. But he knew one thing for sure.
His brother was being railroaded, and Lucy Sanderson was their only hope of proving his innocence.
Lucy hung around the police precinct and typed up a list of questions for the detectives to utilize during questioning. Detective Ross was at first skeptical of using them until Lucy reminded him that previous interviews between his detectives and the suspect had resulted in no new leads. He reluctantly agreed to examine her questions and pass them along to his detectives.
She watched through the interrogation room’s window as Clint Tippitt was brought in and seated. Although she noticed a slight resemblance to Bryce, no hint of recognition flashed through her when she saw him. Nothing about him brought back memories of the man who had abducted her from the roadside. But her ability to identify her attacker was obviously limited. He could be standing in front of her, and she might not even know it.
She didn’t stay for the questioning. She was already weary and ready to get back to the B&B and rest. And the detectives conducting the questioning seemed to be taking the same approach with Clint as they had in the past—accusations and demands for answers. And he had entered the room already on the defense. She doubted this interview would yield any new information.
In the lobby she spotted Bryce sitting in the waiting area chairs. His shoulders were slumped, and he looked defeated. She wished there was something she could do to comfort him.
“I guess you heard?” he asked as she took the seat beside him.
“I did. Were you with him when he was arrested?”
“Yes. He was at his workshop, as I’d suspected. Alone. There’s no one who can verify his whereabouts for the past two days.”
She leaned back into the chair beside him, knowing his worst fears were coming true.
“I know I promised to stay by your side,” he began, but Lucy shushed him.
“You need to be with your brother. I completely understand.”
“I feel like I’m letting you down too.”
She reached out, took his hand and held it. “You’re not letting anyone down, Bryce. You’re doing everything you can to help the people you care about.”
“I know I can’t do anything sitting here, but I feel like I need to stay. If they don’t find anything they can charge him with, he’ll need a ride home. If they do...”
Lucy stood and leaned into him, pulling him into a hug. He seemed to need it, and she was glad to offer one. “Where’s Meghan?”
“I texted her grandmother to pick her up from school today. She can stay with them for a day or two.”
“I’ll take a cab back to the B&B.”
He rubbed her shoulders. “I should take you.”
“No, you stay with your brother. I’ll be fine. Let me know if anything changes.”
She stayed with him until her cab arrived, then Bryce walked her to it and they said goodbye.
Once at the B&B, Lucy kicked off her heels and slid into a soft chair in Mrs. Ferguson’s living room before catching her up on the day’s events, including Clint’s arrest.
“Bryce is beating himself up over this,” Lucy confided. “I want to help him, but I don’t know how.”
Mrs. Ferguson only nodded. “Bryce is a good man. He takes on the burdens of others. His father was that way too.”
Lucy was surprised to hear Mrs. Ferguson mention Bryce’s father. “You knew him?”
“Of course. Everyone did. He was very popular around town. A very friendly man, charming and well-liked. Similar to Bryce.”
“Then you must have been surprised when he was accused of killing a woman.” It felt wrong to grill Mrs. Ferguson about Bryce’s past, but now that he’d opened up to Lucy about his father, she longed to know more. While it might not have a connection to the cases she was working, it had an impact on Bryce, and she realized she was growing to care about him despite her determination not to.
“Oh yes, yes,” Mrs. Ferguson continued. “We all were shocked. The affair wasn’t such a surprise—it is a small town, you know—but the murder. That poor woman. I would have never believed John Tippitt was capable of that. Of course, these murders happening now, well, I’ve never seen such evil in my life. It seems this world continues to decline. If I didn’t have my faith to fall back on, I don’t know how I would survive it all.”
Lucy wasn’t surprised to learn Mrs. Ferguson was a woman of faith. Her Bible sat next to the armchair where Lucy knew she spent her mornings before breakfast and her evenings before bed.
Faith had always been important to Lucy too...until Danny’s death had revealed to her that everything she’d thought she’d known was a lie. After that, she’d been too angry to pray, too devastated to turn to God and too doubtful to trust in a heavenly father who had let her down.
“I should get busy,” Mrs. Ferguson told her, standing up and straightening the apron she wore. “My church is having a bake sale, and I promised to make two of my coconut pies. They’re always a hit.”
She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Lucy alone with her thoughts. They inevitably turned back to Bryce. She’d grown closer to him than she’d intended to and she wanted to ease his burdens, yet she still had no way of discounting his brother’s involvement in Jessica Nelson’s disappearance and no way of preventing the local police from charging Clint for the deaths of the other women. While she doubted the case they had against Clint would ever be enough to convict him in a court of law, the process of being arrested and charged was stressful enough. The only way she could help was to find a lead to the real killer.
Lucy closed her eyes, intending to rest for only a few minutes before digging back into the case files, but the gentle hum from Mrs. Ferguson working in the kitchen and lack of sleep from the two previous nights finally caught up to her. When she opened her eyes again, she was surprised to find she had napped for two hours.
She regretted the lost time, but had to admit she felt better. Her mind was sharper and the ache in her head had lessened to a dull throbbing pain. She got up and went into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, then swallowed two Tylenol pills.
“Bryce hasn’t phoned, has he?” She hated being without her cell phone, and wanted to replace it as soon as possible.
“He hasn’t, dear, but someone left you a package at the door. I placed it on the dining room table.”
Lucy glanced at the table and saw another box similar to the ones she’d received from the police. The side label stated it was additional case files. She was about to chide Mrs. Ferguson for lifting the heavy box, but then she slid it toward her and realized it wasn’t heavy at all. It couldn’t contain many files. And if there had been additional files she needed, why hadn’t they given them to her while she was at the precinct earlier?
She lifted the top from the box and heard a click. Odd. She glanced inside, and instead of case files, she saw a small device with a timer and what looked like explosives wrapped in tape.
All the oxygen seemed to leave her lungs as she realized she’d just triggered a bomb when she’d lifted the top. The timer showed one minute and quickly started counting down the seconds.
Lucy dropped it and screamed for Mrs. Ferguson to get out of the house. She turned and ran into the kitchen, urging the woman to run out the back door.
Neither of them made it out before the explosion sent them both flying. Lucy was slammed against the refrigerator, then hit the floor. Her ears were ringing, and her whole body felt as if it was vibrating from the blast. She coughed, choking on the dust that settled around her. She opened her eyes and looked around at the damage. Mrs. Ferguson was a few feet away, sprawled on the floor, unmoving. Lucy wanted to rush to her side to check on her, but she couldn’t. Her body wouldn’t move and she realized she was trapped, the refrigerator pinning her down.
A noise from behind her reached her ears, and she managed to turn her head to see flames shooting into the doorway from the dining room. It was fully engulfed and the fire was spreading quickly.
If help didn’t arrive soon, they were both going to die.