Catch her death, p.24
Catch Her Death, page 24
“Come on, Bill. She’s in charge of the investigation down here. If we combine what we know with what happened here, we have more chance of catching him. You know that.”
“She works for a small PD. There’s no way they have the resources to find this guy or tell us anything we can’t learn for ourselves. We can find him.”
Mike shakes his head. “He’s making a fool out of us.”
“Give it a break, would you? I’m trying to think.” Bill has a sequence of events he runs through in his mind every time he tries to figure out the missing pieces of this case. The sixteen victims—if he includes Kate Flynn—flash before him: names, ages, their deathly stares, their children, their method of death, the states they were killed in, and always ending with Pamela’s headless body in the bloody bath. He closes his eyes against that one.
This time, images of Madison and his grandson also flash up. Bill has grown close to Owen since he moved back to Colorado. He didn’t even know Madison had a kid until he arrived. The boy has been through so much, spending six years without his mother while she was locked up for someone else’s crime. Then he lost his girlfriend to murder. Bill would’ve thought that would make Owen bitter and cynical, but somehow, he’s not.
It’s admirable that he wants to become a lawyer so he can help others fight injustices like the one his mother experienced, but Bill suspects he’s in for a shock once he graduates and starts practicing law. The justice system in this country isn’t fair, and most newly qualified lawyers soon find the job is nothing like they were told it would be in law school. Most attorneys burn out young, fed up and disappointed with the system they’re trying to defend. With dirty DAs, cops and judges all pulling the invisible strings, there’s little a kind, warmhearted person like Owen can do for his clients. Bill worries that the system will break his grandson, and wishes he’d choose a different career path. It’s bad enough that Madison became a cop. Especially as it was her job that landed her in prison.
He feels a stab to the heart. A mixture of guilt for not being around when she needed him, and shame at the danger he’s placed them both in by coming back here. He swallows the lump in his throat as he considers how close the SSK is to his family. “Why did you let me bring him here?” he says softly.
Mike leans in to see his face. “What?”
Bill looks at him. “It was stupid. I should’ve kept well away from Lost Creek.”
“You were insistent,” says Mike. “You assured me he would stick out like a sore thumb somewhere like this.”
Bill nods. “I know. But I didn’t appreciate how long I’d been away. How much the town would’ve changed in my absence. It’s evolved. The residents are different. I don’t know anyone anymore. I thought only the killer would be a stranger, but it turns out everyone is. Even my own daughter.”
Mike inhales deeply next to him. “Jesus Christ, Bill. You’ve brought us on a wild goose chase. I could’ve spent Christmas with my family.”
Bill glances at him. He knows how much the guy hates being away from his wife and kids. Mike’s flirted with the idea of early retirement several times. Unlike Bill, he never put work before his home life and somehow managed to attend most of his kids’ important events over the years. He never let the job consume him. Bill used to think that was a weakness. That any agent who didn’t spend ninety-nine percent of their time at work wasn’t dedicated and had no hope of catching America’s worst criminals. But now he feels like they must all be laughing at him for wasting his life on something that was never achievable.
He clears his throat. “You should travel home to Alaska. Take a proper break with Anne and the kids. Maybe think about that early retirement. Because in my experience, all this,” he gestures to the freezing-cold car they’re sitting in, “isn’t worth it. We can’t catch this guy. If we could, we would’ve done it already. I would’ve done it already. We may even be fueling his need to kill by chasing him.” He lowers his eyes. “Maybe if we back off, he will too. Because he’ll have no one to play his games with.”
Mike looks as if he’s seriously considering the advice. Eventually he says, “That sounds mighty tempting, Bill. Mighty tempting.”
They sit in silence for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts. So it comes as a terrible shock when Mike’s door is suddenly pulled wide open from the outside and they see a man dressed all in black, with a ski mask over his face, standing there aiming a gun at them. Bill doesn’t even have time to draw his own weapon before a round goes off. The sound pierces his ears, disorientating him for a few seconds and leaving his eardrums throbbing, during which time the assailant vanishes.
He looks down at his own body, fully expecting to see a bloody hole in his chest. There’s plenty of blood spatter, but it doesn’t take him long to realize it’s not from him. “What the hell?” He looks across at Mike. “Oh Jesus. No. Mike!” He shakes him by his shoulders, but it’s pointless. His partner is already dead.
Seething with anger, Bill gets out of the car and pulls his weapon. He frantically spins around in all directions, but sees nothing but a few passing cars on the road. He looks at the footprints in the snow. It’s impossible to make out which direction the killer went, as his indentations are mixed with Mike’s and his own from when they searched the area.
He releases his frustration by yelling expletives into the air. It doesn’t make him feel any better, because now he has another death on his conscience. He forces himself to walk to the passenger side of the car. Mike’s right eye is staring at the ceiling. His left eye has been pushed to the back of his head with the force of the bullet, which is lodged in the headrest behind him.
The Snow Storm Killer has come closer to him than ever before. And Bill intends to make him pay.
CHAPTER FORTY
Nate has given up trying to reach Owen by phone, because his calls are diverted straight to voicemail, indicating that the phone battery has either died or been removed. He curses himself for not asking Frank where in Prospect Springs he lives, and as he races toward Richie Hope’s office, he considers whether to alert Madison that he’s worried Frank has done something to her son. If he’s wrong, he’ll upset her for no reason. But if he’s right, she can get the whole station looking for them. He decides to check in with Richie and Janine first to see if they know anything. At least he can get Frank’s address from them.
Skidding to a stop outside the office, he and Brody get out of the car. The dog runs ahead of him and almost slips on the ice. As Nate follows him into the building, Janine isn’t her usual welcoming self. Her smile has been replaced with a frown. “What’s wrong?” he asks, fearing the worst.
Before she can speak, Richie appears. “Boy, am I glad to see you. It appears we have a problem.”
Nate has never seen Richie this serious before and it makes him tense. “It’s Owen, isn’t it?” He runs a hand through his hair. If anything’s happened to him, Madison will never forgive him. He’ll never forgive himself.
“Let’s not panic,” says Richie. “It’s just that Madison called us to see if we’d heard from Frank or Owen, and we told her everything was fine and they’re bound to be back shortly, but it’s been a while now and we can’t seem to locate them.”
Nate’s blood runs cold. “I need Frank’s address. I’m going up there. We need to tell Madison so she can get officers looking for them.”
Richie sighs. “I’m afraid it appears he’s given us a false address.”
“What?”
Janine speaks up. “I asked my neighbor to go knock on Frank’s door to see if he was there and she said an old couple answered. Frank doesn’t live there. He never has.” Her face is lined with worry. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t got talking to him in that bar, he would never have worked for us. I was so sure he was a good guy. I should’ve known otherwise the minute he told me he was a Gemini.”
Nate feels panic building in his chest. He has to keep it in check. “What time did they leave to go to the storage locker?”
She looks flustered. “I don’t know for sure, just that it was this morning.”
He checks his watch. It’s just after four now. “And do we know if they made it there?”
“I’ll call the manager and check.” Janine goes to her desk and picks up the phone.
Richie removes his glasses and rubs his eyes. “I’m ashamed to admit I never checked Frank’s references. The firebombing incident followed by the office move and then the storm… it all distracted me from running a background check.” He looks like he’s welling up.
Nate rests a hand on his shoulder. “We all could have done things differently. Let’s just focus on finding them. I’m going to call Madison.”
Brody is at his feet, alert and waiting for instructions. “I wish I had a job for you, boy.” The dog is best at locating dead bodies, and Nate can only hope he won’t be needed. He pulls his cell phone out.
The rumble of an engine outside the building makes everyone stop. It sounds like it’s coming from something big, like a pickup truck. Brody barks loudly and races outside, and before Nate reaches the front window he races back in, tail wagging furiously and looking back over his shoulder at who is following him inside.
Nate’s mouth drops open when Owen appears. He’s laughing at something Frank has said behind him. Richie raises his eyes to the ceiling, whispers something and then goes over to hug the boy.
Janine slams the phone down, cutting off the person on the other end of the line. “You’re a sight for sore eyes!”
Owen looks puzzled. “What’s going on?”
Frank is bewildered by their reaction too. “What did we miss?”
Nate feels his heart beating out of his chest, but he couldn’t be more relieved. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer your goddam phones?”
He rarely curses, so he has Owen’s attention. “We went to the storage locker. What’s wrong?”
Nate goes to the boy and pulls him in for a hug. “We thought you were dead.”
Frank says, “Sorry, folks. That’ll be my fault.”
Nate steps back and crosses his arms as he waits for an explanation.
“I took the kid for a slap-up meal at my favorite restaurant after we’d finished loading the boxes. The storm set us back too, and once we got on the road, I guess I got a little carried away with the country music. I turned it up so loud it probably stopped us hearing our phones ringing.”
“My battery died an hour ago,” says Owen. “And thanks to Frank, I know almost every Dolly Parton song by heart now. I’m never getting ‘9 to 5’ out of my head.”
Nate doesn’t smile. Owen will never know how glad he is that he’s safe. He may not be the boy’s father, but Owen is as close to a son as he’s ever likely to get.
Richie slips his glasses back on. “Well, Frank. I’m sorry to do this to you, but I have some awkward questions that need answering.”
Frank removes his aviator shades and turns serious. “Oh yeah? What would they be?” He stands tall and looks like he’s ready to defend himself, so perhaps he knows what’s coming.
“I’ve discovered you gave me a fake home address. And I imagine your references are baloney too. Would that be a fair assumption, or should I try calling one of the previous employers you listed?”
Frank’s eyes don’t leave Richie’s, but there is some hesitation before he responds. “I’m a good employee, aren’t I?”
“Oh sure,” says Richie, clearly not intimidated by the taller man. “Your investigation skills are second to none. But none of that means diddly-squat if I can’t trust you.”
Janine attempts to break the awkwardness by laughing. “Now come on, Richie. He brought the kid back, didn’t he? And he’s always been good to me. I’m sure he just has something in his past that he’d rather we didn’t know about, that’s all. I mean, don’t we all hide certain things? I know I sure do.”
Richie turns to her with raised eyebrows. “Janine, you haven’t stopped talking since the day I met you, so I can guarantee there’s nothing you haven’t told me about yourself.”
Owen stifles a laugh.
Richie looks back at Frank. “What are you hiding, Frank? Let’s hear it, so we can all get back to work.”
The investigator takes a deep breath and crosses his arms, appearing to assess whether it’s worth being honest at last. Then he looks at Nate. “I’m surprised you didn’t guess.”
Nate doesn’t know what he means, but he’s fearing the worst because the guy volunteered to search for Kristen.
“I’m a Fed.” says Frank, his eyes fixed on Nate.
Nate’s mouth instantly goes dry, and his heart rate quickens. The last involvement he had with the Feds was when they turned up to take Father Connor away two months ago. He was forced to give a statement about what had happened in their final showdown, and the Feds said they’d be in touch again once they’d investigated the priest’s crimes. Nate wonders whether Father Connor might have somehow managed to persuade law enforcement that he’s innocent. They could be taking a bribe. It wouldn’t be the first time. That must be why Frank offered to look for Kristen. He’s searching for evidence to put Nate away instead of the priest. His legs go weak and his craving for cocaine is the strongest it’s been in a long time. “You’re working undercover, aren’t you?”
Frank nods.
“Is that why you offered to locate Kristen Devereaux? Because you think I killed her and you’re trying to pin her murder on me? Has Father Connor offered to pay you for framing me?”
Frank looks puzzled. “What are you talking about?” His expression suddenly softens. “Oh, right. You’re paranoid about going back inside, huh? I guess that’s what serving someone else’s sentence does to a person.” He takes a deep breath. “Look, I offered to help because I thought I could find her, that’s all. Like Bill Harper, I’m not getting any younger, and the FBI has chewed me up and spit me out. Officially, I’m a retired Fed, but if I can keep my mind active in my retirement, I will. Same as you taking on cases when you don’t even need to work.” He turns to Owen. “I worked with your grandpa for fifteen years.”
Owen looks confused. “What’s Grandpa got to do with anything?”
Suddenly it all makes sense to Nate. “You’re in town to help him catch the Snow Storm Killer. You’re working as a consultant on the case, same as Bill.”
Frank nods.
The relief that washes over him is immense. He thought he was about to be arrested again. His hands are visibly trembling.
“Wait a minute,” says Richie, who has turned pale. He looks at Frank. “You’re a Fed?” He gulps. “Er, that box of undeclared earnings in my office? I’m going to see to it that Janine submits them to the IRS immediately.” He laughs nervously. “I don’t know why she hasn’t done it already, to tell you the truth.”
Janine puts her hands on her hips. “Hey! You told me not—”
“That’s enough, Janine!” Richie cuts her off before she can finish. “I’ll give you a handsome Christmas bonus if you go make coffee for everyone. I’m parched. Anyone else?”
She marches out of the room, muttering obscenities as she goes.
“You can relax, Richie,” says Frank. “As long as you’re not killing anyone, I’m not interested.”
“Why are you working for Richie if you already have a job?” asks Nate.
“I needed a cover. I’m trying to fly under the radar so that I don’t stand out, while keeping my eyes and ears peeled for the SSK.” He turns to Owen. “When Richie offered you a job here, Bill told me I was to keep eyes on you so nothing bad could happen to you.”
“That’s why we’ve been in Prospect Springs all day?” asks Owen.
“Right. Bill’s convinced the SSK will come after you or your mom.”
Owen takes a seat, and Nate watches the disappointment sink in as he realizes his grandfather put them in danger. “Is that why he came back here? To catch a serial killer?”
Frank nods. “Right, but it’s complicated. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you, kid. He’s been hunting the guy for twenty-five years and he’s desperate. Doesn’t want to die without seeing the asshole behind bars.”
Owen looks up at Nate. “Do you think Mom knows?”
Nate goes over and takes a seat next to him. “Apparently she does. Vince told me she and Bill had a huge fight about it in the diner. She was pretty upset.”
“We need to see her.” Owen stands. His concern for his mom is touching.
Frank’s phone rings. When he answers it, Nate hears a man’s voice shouting down the line. “Whoa! Calm down, Bill,” Frank says. “What’s going on?”
They all hear what Bill says next. “It’s Mike! The son of a bitch killed Mike!”
Frank’s mouth drops open. He listens for a few minutes and then ends the call with “Roger that.” Hs hands are trembling as he lowers the phone from his ear. “It seems things have taken an unexpected turn. The SSK must have a death wish, because he just killed a federal agent.”
“Oh dear God,” says Richie.
“I need to get you somewhere safe,” Frank tells Owen. “There’s no telling what he’ll do next.”
Nate’s heart rate speeds up. “You go and help Bill. I’ll take care of Owen.”
Frank hesitates. “You carry a weapon, Monroe?”
Nate shakes his head. He’s not a fan of anything that might get him put back inside.
Frank pulls a gun out of a holster under his shirt and holds it out, butt first. When Nate doesn’t take it, he says, “You stand a better chance of protecting young Owen with this than without.”
Nate still hesitates. “What if it goes off by mistake? What if I shoot the wrong person? In fact, what if I shoot the right person? I’m not a cop or an agent; if I kill someone, I could be arrested and charged with murder.”
“Well, knowing the judicial system, I can’t promise that’s not a possibility, but I would say it’s unlikely given the circumstances.” Frank takes a deep breath. “I guess you need to ask yourself whether it’s a risk worth taking in order to save Owen’s life.”
