Dark Passing (The Ella Reynolds Series) (22 page)

“She wasn’t. She was talking to William. I pulled her cell phone record after she died. He said he called it off with her. He couldn’t keep doing that to his family.”

I rolled my neck, listening to it pop. This changed things.

I couldn’t believe Fagan kept all this from me. How was I supposed to solve the case? Wait, I wasn’t supposed to. Bastard.

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did you talk with Mrs. Laurie after the murder?”

“I couldn’t without giving away William’s indiscretion, but she hosted a dinner party for the women’s auxiliary that night.”

The more I thought about it, the more it made sense for the killer to be one of the Lauries. They’d even created a scholarship in Mary’s name. Guilty conscience much? “That doesn’t mean he or she didn’t hire someone. They have money, therefore options. Did you check their financial records?” I stood up and paced the room. “I mean, if I were going to kill someone, I wouldn’t do it myself. That’d be ridiculous. I’d hire a pro. Someone who wouldn’t leave a trace.”

Fagan sighed and crossed his ankle over his knee. “A professional wouldn’t be back to kill two other girls.”

“You didn’t know another two girls were going to die at the time,” I muttered.

“Ella has a point. It’s worth looking into. The Lauries have the capital, and you can’t ignore the fury that drives a cheated-on spouse.” Our eyes met, as if we wanted to make sure this wasn’t opening old wounds for the other. “Besides avoiding embarrassment, would either of the Lauries have motivation for keeping this quiet?”

Fagan looked slightly sick. “It’s my understanding Lola had a prenup—”

“The sort that said if she found out William cheated on her, she could leave him with nothing?”

“I haven’t seen it.”

We all exchanged a look. “Well, I guess I need to talk to William and Lola again.”

Fagan’s eyes widened and he stumbled for words for the first time since I met him.

Gabriel put his hand on my knee. “El, this is a delicate situation. You’re about as gentle as a sledgehammer.”

“I’m delicate. You’re the one who goes around interrogating people.”

“Yes, I ask questions. You accuse. It’s a fine but important difference.”

“I like to get to the point.” I didn’t see anything wrong with that. It was much easier than talking for hours.

“We need to work on your interviewing technique.”

“But they know me. Lola likes me. She might talk to me.”

“They’ll be at the gala,” Fagan said, his cheeks creased in a deep frown.

I didn’t love the idea of waiting, but it would give me time to talk to Alfie and put together a more complete picture of what happened.

I hesitated too long to agree and Gabriel added, “It will give Fagan a chance to pull their financial records. We need real evidence before we talk to them.”

“Fine,” I mumbled.

“I’ll need a warrant for that and they know the judges.”

“I know someone in the DA’s office in Montgomery who might be able to help.”

Fagan closed his eyes. “If we’re wrong and they find out I looked into this, I’m finished here.”

“So don’t let them find out.” Gabriel didn’t seem sympathetic. I had my doubts if he played the political game well or at all. He wasn’t the type. Gabriel would never have backed off the case to let William get away unscathed. He was honorable, and it came through in his actions. Gabriel’s mouth tilted in a smile, and I realized I was staring at him, and much to my surprise, I was smiling too.

I shook my head and turned back to Fagan. “You should’ve done this from the start, and you know it.”

“I really didn’t think—” He didn’t even bother to finish whatever spin he was about to put on the facts. He should’ve done his job and worried more about finding a killer than gaining political advancement. It certainly shouldn’t have taken me coming here and relentlessly pestering him.

“You’re right,” he said, sounding like saying the two words hurt him.

“Now that we’re no longer working against one another,”—I shot him one final glare for good measure—“I think we should discuss the two newest murders.”

Gabriel nodded and Fagan invited us back to the station. “But not a word about what we just discussed. Everyone’s related to everyone here. News spreads like fire on gasoline.”

The games were afoot.

****

As Gabriel and I followed Fagan once more, I studied the houses we passed by. They glowed from within, lit up by people living their lives unaffected by murderers. If I was being honest with myself, something I tried not to do too often, I’d admit I enjoyed this—probably too much. I loved writing, but this was such a drastic change of pace that it energized me. My brain swam with new ideas for stories, new plot twists, new life. Being here and looking into other people’s lives made me feel so detached from mine it was a relief. I didn’t have what happened and Danny’s ghost hanging over me all the time. For the first time in longer than I could remember, I wasn’t defined by my past. I was just me.

“You’re being suspiciously quiet over there.” Gabriel’s voice brought me back to reality.

“Just thinking.” I looked over at him, lit by the dashboard lights. “I like doing this.”

“I can tell.” It was hard to know what he thought about my enjoyment of it from his tone, so I waited for what seemed like hours for him to continue. “I don’t love you putting yourself in the path of criminals, but you’re not fragile, and I should’ve known you could handle the stress.”

“This has been a cake walk compared to last year.”

He laughed. “You do seem more vivacious.” He glanced over. “Thinking about making a habit out of investigating, Sherlock?”

I didn’t know what I was thinking other than I enjoyed doing this. It seemed unlikely more people would ask me to look into murders, but I guess I could start writing true crime. “I’m not sure how good I am at it. A lot of my theories were wrong.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You may not have gotten everything right, but you’re dogged and have pushed this investigation further than Sheriff Fagan ever did. Your unyielding personality suits this type of work.”

I smiled and looked out my window again. What would I do without this patient, understanding man? We pulled into the police station and met up with Fagan in the murder room. A picture of Lakota and Nikki hung on a big white board, and I realized how much Lakota looked like Mary. Mary’s image had been burned in my mind for so long, I saw the similarities immediately—a definite resemblance in the eye area and the shape of their faces.

“Was Lakota related to Mary?”

“Distantly.” Fagan glanced back. “How did you know?”

“They look alike. I can see it here and here.” I pointed on the picture.

“We still haven’t identified what murder weapon was used for Lakota—possibly a wood chipper. The thing is, she was missing her skull. We identified her by an intact finger that we could print and her previous arrest records.”

“Jesus,” Gabriel said under his breath.

“Aren’t you supposed to call the FBI in situations like this?” I asked.

Fagan shot me a hateful look, and I held up my hands in surrender.

“Nikki was killed with a hammer—the same one we found. But it was an older hammer, and there were also traces of animal blood on it. We don’t have any conclusive evidence linking the two crimes, let alone Mary’s.” He stared at the board. “No fingerprints, no hair. We do have a boot print from next to Lakota’s body. I have deputies canvassing and visiting hardware stores and construction sites to check for traces of blood on the chippers.”

“Wherever Mary was killed had to be fairly secluded. She was kept for a week, and judging by your report, the neighbors would’ve been calling about the smell if she were within the city limits,” Gabriel reasoned and Fagan nodded. “Lakota was obviously moved or you or Ella would’ve heard a wood chipper, which means the killer wanted you to find the body. It was placed directly between the two of you.”

“That’s assuming the killer dumped the body while we were there,” I said. “I didn’t see or hear anything.”

“I had the same thought about the location of the murder, but a lot of people own property in the country around here. The list had at least a thousand names. And judging by the temperature of the remains when you found her, relative to the outside temperature and the coagulation of the blood,”—he tapped the spot on the board where the estimated time of death was written—“she very well could’ve been dumped while we were there.

“Did you see or hear anyone that night?” I challenged Fagan.

“No.”

“Even if I concede that the body was dumped while we were there, which I doubt, why?” I asked. “Why would the killer take that risk?”

“Maybe a distraction? Or a challenge?
A warning
? I really don’t know.” Gabriel continued to stare thoughtfully at the board, resting casually against a table—like it was the most natural thing in the world to be standing around discussing motive with your girlfriend on a Wednesday night.

“The killer wanted Mary to be found too. The car had so much gasoline on it, the flames were at least ten feet high. Even if the farmer wasn’t in his field, someone would’ve seen it,” Fagan added.

“What about Nikki? Why’s she different?”

“Different how?” Gabriel asked.

“She’s the only one the killer didn’t make sure was found. Where she was in the alley couldn’t be seen from the road. How was she found?”

“An anonymous tip from a payphone. She was the only one with narcotics in her system.”

“We should look closer at Nikki,” Gabriel said and Fagan retrieved her files.

The guys stewed over the sparse information, and I listened as they talked back and forth about it in police lingo while I continued to look at the board. It was more conducive to my way of thinking—almost like storyboarding. Nikki was my character. I had all of these seemingly random facts that had to fit together. Somewhere in these bits of information was a story. “Why was she in the alley?” I asked out loud, but the question was meant for me. If I could figure out a plausible reason for her to be there, I’d have something to build on.

“I don’t know, but I can tell you she was killed there. And she fought her attacker. She had defensive wounds here and here.” I glanced at the gruesome picture Fagan was pointing to, then whipped my attention back toward the board. Those pictures definitely didn’t help me think.

What did people do in alleys at night? Nothing good. She had drugs in her system. She could’ve been there for more. Maybe she was meeting her dealer and someone interrupted them. The dealer got away, but Nikki was bludgeoned to death. “Did she have any drugs on her?”

“No,” Fagan said.

Hmmmm. Maybe the exchange hadn’t been made. The only dealer I knew in Jackson was Alfie, which meant he now had ties to all three victims. It wasn’t looking good for ol’ Alfie. “Did you assign an officer to shadow Caleb and Alfie?”

“I did, but Jeffries couldn’t find Alfie.”

“What about school?”

Fagan shrugged.

Obviously he wasn’t concerned. Was Alfie on the run, or was he a witness and hiding? That was the question.

“What are you thinking, El?”

“It’s suspicious that Alfie, a drug dealer and the son of the man Mary was having an affair with, was throwing the party both Nikki and Lakota were at the night Mary died, and now he’s suddenly gone.”

“I’ll start looking for him tomorrow.” Fagan’s voice was as grave as a man on death row.

We hypothesized for a while longer, but nothing came of it. Every new idea was shot down by one of us. Finally, my eyes were heavy and I was ready to go home. I lay my head on my arms on the table, and Gabriel rubbed the back of my neck softly with his rough hand.

“You ready to go?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

Gabriel stood, heaving me up with him. Fagan walked with us toward the door and thanked us for our help.

“Oh, one more thing before I forget. Can I get the file on Cindy Darcey’s death?” Gabriel asked.

“Wasn’t that an overdose?” Fagan’s brows knitted together.

“Yeah. It’s probably nothing, but I find it odd that she knew all of the victims, and she’s also dead. I thought I’d take a look, see if anything strange sticks out.”

“Sure. I’ll have it for you tomorrow.”

Gabriel nodded and ushered me back to his car. I slid into my seat, images of the dead girls filling my head. Alfie had a connection to each victim, and he had motive for Mary, but why Nikki and Lakota? Lakota obviously knew something, witnessed something, but why would the killer keep her skull? Nikki, on the other hand, didn’t know anything. Her murder was the only one that didn’t feel planned. It was sloppy and that scared me more. A killer who planned his kills didn’t act rashly, and we could possibly predict what would happen next. But one who could fly off the handle at any moment could attack anyone, anywhere. Was the killer at a breaking point? If so, there’d be another body very soon.