Cold Case at Carlton's Canyon (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Justin met Amanda at the reunion picnic, surprised she’d shown up wearing her uniform.

“You trying to make a statement to your former classmates?”

She shrugged. “Yes, that they’re safe. And that I’m on the job.”

“Not here to mingle.”

“Not here to mingle,” she said in a wry tone. They walked across the field by the lake. Dusk was setting, the ducks nibbling for food at the edge of the water, a breeze stirring the trees and whipping Amanda’s hair around her face.

He wanted to reach up and tuck it behind her ear, but they were in public and he couldn’t touch her. Although he imagined making love to her again tonight and need speared him.

Not a good idea, man. One night was just sex. Two could lead to something more, could mean she is getting in your head.

And your heart.

No one got into his heart.

“What happened with Bernie?”

Justin chewed the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know, Amanda. She wants credit for the crimes, but when I asked her about the details, there were discrepancies in her story.”

Amanda paused by a tree and looked up at him, her eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“She claimed the drugs made her memory foggy. I threw in the name of a fake victim to test her. And she said she couldn’t remember all the names.”

Amanda shaded her eyes with her hand as she scanned the picnic area and pavilion where her former classmates and their spouses and kids had gathered. Grills were heating up for burgers and hot dogs, and one of those bouncy houses had been set up for the kids, along with face painting, music and games.

“It is possible that the medication messed with her memory,” Amanda said. “Of course that will make it harder to get a conviction unless we find other evidence to support her story.”

And so far, they hadn’t. “When I asked her how she killed the girls, she said she choked them to death with a scarf.”

Alarm flared in her eyes. “Not a belt?”

“No.”

She pursed her lips. “Maybe she’s trying to throw us off with the details because she still has plans for Saturday night.”

“That’s possible. Either way, we have enough to hold her for twenty-four hours.”

“She wouldn’t tell you where Julie and Lynn are?”

He shook his head. “They haven’t turned up at the picnic?”

“No. But I’ll keep watch.” She headed down the hill. “I guess I should canvass the crowd in case anyone’s heard from them.”

Justin had a bad feeling that the women were dead.

The question was—where were their bodies? And if Bernadette hadn’t murdered them, who had?

* * *

A
MANDA
THREADED
HER
way through the throng of classmates, listening to the normal chitchat about how much everyone had changed, or hadn’t, the questions about marriage and kids and jobs. She remained on the periphery, avoiding engaging in conversation, listening and hoping for information that might help with the case.

Because if Bernadette wasn’t the murderer, one of her other classmates might be.

Or was Bernadette just toying with them now? Dragging out the inevitable to make them wonder and throw suspicion off of herself?

Two of Kelly Lambert’s bridesmaids cornered her by the sodas. “We saw the press conference,” Anise said. “You found the person who killed Kelly?”

“Who was it?” Mona Pratt asked.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t divulge that information yet,” Amanda said.

Anise touched her arm, her voice pleading. “But you’re sure you have him in jail?”

“We think so,” Amanda said, then because these women might be in danger, added, “but until we have the evidence we need to confirm that we have the right person in custody, please be careful. This killer targeted our classmates. Watch your backs.”

Worry darkened both women’s faces. “Is that why Julie and Lynn aren’t here?” Mona asked. “You think they’re dead, too?” Panic strained her high-pitched voice and several other people turned to her with questioning eyes.

Amanda lowered her voice. “I don’t know, but if you hear from them, please call me.”

She moved to the edge of the crowd, feeling as out of place as she had ten years ago.

But that feeling reminded her that the killer felt the same way. So she sipped her soda and watched the picnic—old friends reconnecting and rehashing memories, the couples introducing spouses and children, and the occasional whisper and somber expressions of sorrow and regret that several of the students at Canyon High had died or disappeared and were presumed dead.

But as she studied the faces, she didn’t see anyone who looked suspicious. Carlton’s brother was there, laughing with a couple of guys he used to run track with. Donald Reisling sat in his wheelchair, although he wasn’t alone. Three of the former basketball players were crowded around him asking for financial advice, listening raptly to what Donald had to say.

Raymond Fisher, the man who had been Kelly’s fiancé, had even shown up although he and Terry Sumter passed each other with mutinous glares.

Then Renee cornered Raymond, hovering close, obviously consoling him for his loss.

* * *

W
HEN
J
USTIN
AND
Amanda left the picnic, they wanted to move Bernadette to the jail. But the doctor who’d treated her had called for a psych evaluation, and instead they transferred her to the psychiatric ward to stabilize her medication.

While Justin called the crime lab to check on forensics and to ask if the tech team had found any leads on Julie’s and Lynn’s phones, Amanda called her deputy to ask him to stand guard by Bernie’s room again that night.

Amanda didn’t know whether it was the meds or if Bernie had realized that she wasn’t going free and that, if she’d planned another murder for the big reunion Saturday night, that she wouldn’t get to follow through, but apparently she’d shut down again.

When she and Justin arrived back at the sheriff’s office, Lynn Faust’s mother was waiting along with Julie Kane’s parents.

“Where are our daughters?” Lynn’s mother cried.

“You said you arrested someone. Where is he?” Mr. Kane demanded.

Mrs. Kane swiped at tears. “Let us talk to him. Maybe he’ll tell us where our daughters are.”

Lynn’s mother clutched her arm. “Please, Amanda, please find them. Lynn’s all I’ve got.”

Emotions thickened Amanda’s throat. “We’re doing everything we can.”

“Damn you, Sheriff, it’s not enough.” Mr. Kane raised a fist and shook it in the air. “Tell us who kidnapped our daughters, and I’ll get him to talk.”

Justin rapped his knuckles on the desk. “Listen here, everyone. We understand you’re upset, but the sheriff is doing her job. We do have a suspect and are continuing to question her—”

“It’s a woman?” Mrs. Faust shrieked.

“Let us see her!” Mr. Kane shouted.

“I can’t do that,” Justin said, kicking himself for mentioning the suspect’s gender. “But I promise you as soon as we know anything, we’ll inform you.”

“But our babies are still out there...” Mrs. Faust sobbed.

Mrs. Kane leaned into her husband. “We have to know what happened to them. Julie, she was so bright and smart... She can’t be gone.”

Their grief ripped at Amanda’s heart, and she silently vowed that somehow she would find the answers the families sought.

Even if it meant finding Julie’s and Lynn’s bodies so they could bury them and put them to rest.

* * *

B
Y
THE
TIME
Justin managed to coax the families to leave, he knew Amanda was wrung out. He saw the guilt and pain in her eyes, and felt helpless to do anything about it.

Because he wasn’t sure they had the right unsub.

Meaning Amanda might be in danger and wouldn’t be safe until the perp was caught.

He suspected tomorrow as the big day, the reveal—if the killer had one. That Julie’s and Lynn’s bodies would turn up in some way connected to the reunion so all their classmates could bear witness.

And so Amanda would feel even worse.

The CSI team had found little. Nothing to connect Bernie to the crimes. Her cell phone showed calls to the inn and motel, but not to Julie, Lynn, Kelly or Suzy. If she’d used a burner phone, it hadn’t been in her purse or car.

Together he and Amanda made rounds in the town, checked the inn again to see if there had been any word from the women, then picked up some dinner from the diner and drove back to Amanda’s.

Tension vibrated between them, the uncertainty hovering around Bernie and the case needling both of them. Once they ate, Amanda poured herself a drink and offered him one.

He liked a woman who drank brown whiskey.

He liked Amanda period. She was strong and gutsy and fought for her town.

Worn and worried though, she looked vulnerable again. He sipped his whiskey with her on the porch, the night sounds echoing around them.

The memories of the night before taunted him.

He wanted her again.

Amanda sighed and leaned against the rail, looking out over the woods and canyon, and he couldn’t help himself. He stepped up behind her, needing to hold her, aching to pull her into his arms and touch her everywhere.

To make her sigh and moan with pleasure and erase the dark shadows in her eyes.

He gently stroked the hair from her cheek and pressed a kiss behind her ear. Amanda leaned back into him and whispered his name softly, a protest to stop. A plea for more.

He took her hand and led her inside, then swept her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, where they stripped and made love all through the night.

* * *

F
OR
A
FEW
blissful short hours, Amanda felt at peace. Safe. Cared for. As if everything might be all right.

But daylight brought reality and uncertainty. When the case ended, Justin would leave Sunset Mesa. His job carried him all over Texas. She understood that from her father.

She also understood that he might not come back.

Daylight also reminded her that Julie and Lynn were still missing. And that Bernadette might not be the killer.

Justin joined her in the kitchen for coffee and breakfast again, the two of them silently agreeing not to discuss the frantic sex they’d had during the night.

“Let’s question Bernie again,” she said as they cleaned up the kitchen.

Justin nodded, and they drove to the hospital, the tension between them vibrating with dread. The reunion dance was tonight.

The tick tock of the clock was like a time bomb echoing in her ears.

If Bernadette wasn’t the suspect, then they could expect trouble tonight. The killer probably had something big planned for today. Plans that didn’t involve celebrating the good times from years past, but adding to the death count and celebrating her revenge.

Amanda led the way to the psych floor and they identified themselves to the head nurse, who escorted them to Bernie’s room. Bernie was sleeping, her face pale beneath the hospital lights.

Amanda shook her gently. “Bernie, I need you to wake up and talk to us.”

Bernie made a low sound in her throat, then slowly opened her eyes. Gone was the wild, panicked, angry look. Her eyes looked flat, empty, as if she was far away.

“Bernie, it’s Sheriff Blair. Amanda,” she said, hoping to connect with her on a more informal basis. “We need to talk.”

Bernie pushed hair from her face and looked around, disoriented. “Where am I?”

“The hospital in Sunset Mesa,” Amanda said. “Yesterday you told us that you killed Suzy Turner and Kelly Lambert. That you’ve been punishing classmates who were mean to you.”

Her eyes darted back and forth. “I didn’t say that. You’re lying.”

“You told me they all deserved to die,” Justin said. “That you choked them.”

“No,” Bernie bellowed. “I didn’t. You’re making up stuff to have me locked up again.”

“That’s not true,” Amanda said. “You were at the inn. You—”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Bernadette yelled. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

The hospital door suddenly opened, and a barrel-chested doctor rushed in. “What’s going on?”

“They’re saying I killed someone!” Bernie shouted. “They want to lock me up. It’s just like before, everyone turned against me.”

The doctor gestured for Amanda and Justin to step outside, and a nurse rushed in and gave Bernadette a sedative to calm her.

“I’m afraid she needs intensive therapy,” the doctor said.

“But yesterday she ranted about killing several women,” Justin said.

“Bernadette has taken heavy medication for years. She suffers from delusions. When she’s off her meds as she was yesterday and probably has been for days, she doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

“She was in a delusional state when we brought her in?” Amanda asked.

He nodded grimly. “Off her meds, she’s susceptible to suggestions from others. If you’d told her she was a green alien, she probably would have agreed.”

Amanda knotted her hands into fists. “So we can’t believe anything she said yesterday? And even if we did, it would never hold up in court.”

A sliver of unease rippled through her. She and Justin had both doubted whether or not Bernie’s confession had been real.

Now she had even more doubts.

Which meant that the killer might still be out there planning to snatch another victim.

* * *

S
HE
WATCHED
THE
group decorating the float, laughing and talking and reminiscing about the fun times they’d had.

High school was supposed to be the time of your life.

But for some it had been torture.

They added strings of crepe paper and made a papier-mâché school mascot, even fashioned the canyon for which the school had been named out of clay and paper.

One of the women laughed as she placed two dolls in cheerleading uniforms on the float while a young man planted a football in the middle of the football field onstage.

Tonight that float would sit outside the dance for everyone from Canyon High to see. It was tempting to leave Julie and Lynn in place of those stupid dolls.