Dark Passing (The Ella Reynolds Series) (23 page)

Gabriel was up and going by the time I wrestled myself out of bed. He was in the living room, working on our boards, when I came downstairs. I walked to the kitchen, needing coffee before murder. I filled the biggest mug I owned to the brim and took a couple mouthfuls to open my eyes before I made my cereal and joined Gabriel. I sat cross-legged in the chair and watched him work without comment. He’d erased three of the boards and drawn a horizontal line across the center of each. On the top of one, he wrote Mary.

“Okay, so what happened first on April 12
^th
?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Ummm, Lakota was kicked out of Alfie’s party at around 9:00 p.m.”

“Right.” He made two dashes, one for 8:45 p.m. and one for 9:00 p.m., then scrawled, ‘Lakota kicked out.’ “And Mary left Bryan’s at 9:15 p.m.”

“Yes—and her phone disconnects at 9:25 p.m.”

He finished writing and looked back at me. “Is that all we know?”

“Until her mom reported her missing at 10:45 p.m.”

“William and Lola were at the dinner party with Fagan until when?”

I thought back to the information overload of last night. “I don’t think he said.” I sat my bowl next to my coffee on the end table and went to get my purse. Digging out my cell phone, I sent Fagan a quick text. He replied almost immediately. “He says he was there until about 11:00 p.m. or 12:00 a.m.”

“Okay. We also know that Caleb was in a study group until after midnight, and Nikki was still at the party. Was Alfie there too, or had he slipped out?”

“Where was the party? Wouldn’t that make a difference? We aren’t playing with a huge amount of time here. If Lakota saw something and Mary went missing at 9:25, they had to be close, right?”

“One would think.” Gabriel pulled out his own phone and dialed it. I put my cell back in my purse and saw that weird, plain envelope. I opened it and pulled out a sheet of what looked like printer paper with barely legible handwriting on it.

Ella,

I intended to come see you. I really did. But I can’t stick around here any longer. Someone knows that I know what happened. I feel them watching me everywhere I go, waiting for a sign. I had a dream that I was killed. I think it will happen, that I’m next. That’s why I have to leave.

I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, especially not Mary. I need to tell someone, but not the cops. I don’t remember that night very well, only snippets of what happened. I think I was drugged, but I was high and drinking a lot so maybe I did it to myself. Who knows, but it isn’t really important. I was at a party, and I don’t remember leaving. I do remember waking up in a van, naked, with my hands tied. Someone was driving really fast, or at least it felt fast, but the face is still a shadow to me.

The van came to a stop; I can’t say where. We sat there and I tried to talk to the person, but it was like I didn’t exist. The driver stared straight out and never spoke or even looked at me. It’s all fuzzy. I may have blacked out, but I don’t know how long. Then suddenly the person got out of the car. I knew that was it. I was a goner. I scooted closer to the door and lifted my feet in the air. When the door opened, I kicked out with all of my strength and connected with someone, but I didn’t look. As soon as I got my legs under me, I ran down the hill toward the road, screaming as loud as I could for help. The road didn’t have many houses, but I kept running, knowing the person had to be right behind me. Mary came around a corner and saw me. I saw her shocked face as she drove past, but then she stopped. I ran to her car, thinking I was saved. I don’t remember what happened after that. I woke up in a field, fully dressed, the next morning.

I don’t know what happened, but the more I think about it, the more I believe the person always intended to let me get away. I was bait for Mary. I don’t know why or who it was, but hopefully what I told you will help you find the killer. It’s too late to bring Mary back, but maybe you can still save her mom.

I’m sorry we never got the chance to talk again in person. Don’t come looking for me. You won’t find me and I’m not coming back. Good luck.

Lakota

My mouth fell open and I read it all a second time. She wasn’t going to meet me, but obviously she didn’t get out of town fast enough. “Gabriel, you have to see this.”

He walked over and took the letter from my hand. “What is this?”

“A letter from Lakota. It was in that mail you picked up for me.”

He held the letter by one corner and quickly scanned it. “You had this the whole time?”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t open my mail. I looked at it yesterday, thought it was strange someone sent a letter, but then you came in, and I forgot all about it again.”

He sat down and reread it more slowly. “I think you just broke the case.”

“She didn’t see the killer.”

“No, but now we know the killer drives a van—sounds like a cargo van from her description. If we cross the property search with ownership of a cargo van, we’ll have a much smaller list. But more than that, we can hypothesize that the killer knew Mary well enough to know the route she’d take home, as well as approximately what time she’d be there. Even if Lakota was picked up at 8:45 p.m., there’s only 40 minutes between when she was taken and when Mary was taken; the killer knew her patterns.”

I let his words sink in. “Why would the killer let Lakota go, just to kill her later?”

“Maybe he thought Lakota wouldn’t remember anything, but when he saw her talking to you, or heard about it, he changed his mind.”

“And Nikki?”

“As you pointed out last night, Nikki was different. I don’t know how she fits in yet.”

“Let’s go check it out.”

****

Before I took Lakota’s letter at face value, I needed to see for myself if her story made sense. Gabriel and I drove Route 573 looking for possible places they could’ve stopped that gave a view of the road and didn’t have cell phone signal. We came down a steep hill, turned a curve to the right, and were in a low area with trees on one side and a hill featuring a red barn and windmill on the other. I glanced at my phone. No service. I nodded to Gabriel and he slowed down, looking for a driveway or road. As we started up the hill on the other side, I noticed a small driveway, nearly obscured by untouched snow, toward the top.

“Here,” I said.

He pulled over and stopped.

“I can’t drive in. We’ll get stuck.”

I tucked my pant legs into my boots and zipped my coat, then opened the door. We walked to the top of the hill near the barn and looked out. The road was clearly visible quite a ways. Someone up here could’ve seen Mary coming and still had plenty of time to release Lakota before she made it to the bottom.

“This would work.”

“I wonder who owns this farm?” I said, heading for the barn, wanting to see inside, but Gabriel caught my arm. “You can’t go in there. We’re trespassing.”

“Just a peek.”

He frowned.

“Arrest me if you don’t like it.” I pulled away and hiked to barn. Up close, it was in poor condition. The paint was peeling and chipping away in the breeze. The pieces looked like little drops of blood on the snow around it. I leaned my shoulder into the door and pulled, but it barely moved an inch. I wrapped both hands along the edge and yanked. It slid a little further. The sun gleamed through spaces between the boards, giving the room a glow. There was an old tractor parked inside that looked like it hadn’t moved in thirty years, a stall filled with rotting hay, and a heavy, time-beaten table in the center, with buckets and bottles on one end and a set of tools on the other. A large wooden barrel sat to the left side of the table, positioned under a bar stretched out between the support posts. An odd, jagged piece of material was draped over it. The ground was darker beneath this area than it was in the rest of the room. The moisture evaporated from my mouth and my throat tightened. I waved Gabriel over and he trudged up beside me.

“We shouldn’t—”

“Does that look like blood to you?”

That got his attention. He stuck his head in the door, and when he pulled back to look at me, his face was pinched. “We should go.”

“But—”

He shook his head and turned me toward the car. “We need to get Fagan. Now.”

“Are you at least going to tell me what’s going on? It was blood, wasn’t it?” I asked as my feet reluctantly moved forward.

“Yes.”

“What do you think happened?”

He cleared his throat. “Someone’s been using the barn to tan hides.”

Tan hides? What did he—
oh
. Understanding shot through my veins with a shudder. That wasn’t fabric hanging on the bar. It was skin. Ew. “Like a hunter.”

“Let’s hope so.”

The police station was swarming with activity when we arrived. Another murder? We wove our way through the grim-faced deputies to Fagan’s office. It was full, so we waited outside. Fagan flicked his eyes to me and gave a slight tilt of his head, acknowledging he’d seen us. Gabriel and I didn’t breathe a word of what we’d seen with so many people who could overhear. After a few minutes, Fagan’s door opened, and six or so officers filed out, Fagan trailing behind.

“Walk with me,” he said. When we were out of earshot, he spoke in a hushed tone. “Let’s wait on the warrant for the financials. It would draw too much attention right now.”

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Alfie Laurie’s missing. Lola’s pushing that we involve the FBI. She believes it’s a kidnapping.”

“Has there been a ransom demand?”

“No. No contact whatsoever.”

“She probably doesn’t want to think he could be dead.” With three people murdered in Jackson, I knew that had to be in the back of Lola’s mind, so she was grasping at any glimmer of hope that she’d get her son back, unscathed.

“We have no reason to think Alfie’s dead,” Fagan said quietly.

I scoffed. “Except for three other dead people.”

Fagan’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “He doesn’t fit the victim profile.”

“They were women. The killer has yet to target a man, but Ella does have a point. We have to consider the possibility that the killer is selecting targets based on something other than gender. All three girls knew each other; chances are they weren’t random. Maybe Alfie knows something too.”

“We know Alfie knew all three of them,” I added.

Fagan glanced around quickly, then leaned in. “But if one of the Lauries hired the killer, they’d know Alfie wasn’t dead.”

“If Lola wants the FBI called in, I’m going to guess she’s not the killer.”

“It’s hard to judge someone’s motivation without talking to them,” Gabriel said.

“I can’t take you,”—he motioned between us—“either of you, to see them. I shouldn’t even be talking to you.” We stopped at his car.

Before I could make an incendiary reply to that, Gabriel spoke. “We completely understand. We’re here because Ella found a new piece of evidence this morning in Mary’s case.”

Fagan stretched his neck to either side and there was a loud crack. “What’d you find?”

“Lakota sent me a letter.”

He went very still and his eyes narrowed. “And you just got it?”

I tried not to bristle. “No. It was sent to my home, and I hadn’t gone through my mail. I actually carried it, unopened, in my purse for a few days—but that’s beside the point now. Here.” I thrust the paper at him.

He scanned the letter quickly.

“We think we know where they waited for Mary. And there’s a barn—”

“Where? What does it look like?”

Gabriel explained where we were and what the barn looked like.

Fagan nodded. “I think I know the property. Did you enter the building?”

“Just peeked inside,” I told him. “There was blood—we think.”

“Blood?” He sighed.

“You know, maybe calling the FBI would be best.” Gabriel said.

I felt bad for him, too. Fagan looked exhausted, and he only had so many men. Investigating Alfie’s disappearance and three murders was too much for them.

A harsh laugh tore from his mouth. “And which case would you have me give them? The murder that I may have inadvertently helped cover up, or the disappearance that in all likelihood connects back to the murder?”

“Jesus, Fagan. How about you stop worrying about yourself and your career—”

“El.” Gabriel’s voice had a warning edge, and Fagan looked like he wanted to strangle me. I didn’t apologize. I wasn’t sorry. He should care more about the girls and Alfie than himself. It was his duty.

“I’ll send a patrol car over to secure the location; then I’ll head over there after I meet with the Lauries again. Now, I really have to go.” He got in his car. “Keep me in the loop,” he said as he shut the door.

We watched him drive away, and I looked at Gabriel. “I’m right, you know.”

“Yes, fine, you’re right.” He quirked an eyebrow. “But Fagan’s in a bad position. He made mistakes. Everyone does—even you. He’s trying to make it right.”

“He’s trying to cover his ass.”

He shrugged and nodded toward the door. “You wanted to talk to Deanna?”

We went back inside and found Deanna in her usual position. She eyed me warily. “I can’t talk to you,” she said.