Runs Deep (21 page)

CHAPTER 54

I
t was dark by the time Julie dashed out to her car and jumped into the driver’s seat. She’d now learned to keep a towel in the passenger seat, and she used it to wipe down her arms and wring her hair. As she did, she looked at Bess’s house in the fading light.

When Russ had asked her to tend to Steve, she had planned on just stitching him up and then heading out. But Bess had been so distraught, and Jack had wanted to go into town to see what was going on, so she’d ended up staying.

She was fairly certain Steve didn’t have a concussion. She’d woken him up every hour, although she was late once because she fell asleep in the chair next to his bed. She shook her head. A week ago she never would have been predicted she’d be taking care of Steve Kane. It was surreal. Everything about being back in Millners Kill was surreal.

And yet, at the same time, it was like no time had passed.

A figure moved in one of the upstairs rooms—Steve’s room. Julie watched his shadow cross from one window to the next. It was good to see that he was awake and able to move around. But her stomach clenched when she pictured his battered face. He didn’t kill Mel. The police knew that. They’d had him in custody at the time of Mel’s death. Yet they’d still done that to him.

Steve’s light turned out, but she knew he wasn’t going to bed. A few more crank calls had come in while she was there. Steve was heading downstairs to sleep in his grandfather’s old chair, with a bat next to him. In case someone tried to hurt his grandmother.

Julie placed the key in the ignition and turned it on, but she didn’t make a move to leave. Since Steve had gotten back in town, he’d saved three lives. And each time, his own life had been at risk. Were those the actions of a murderer? Was he just trying to make up for past actions? And what about the new murders? Who was responsible for those? It couldn’t be Steve.

Was it possible there were two murderers at large? Had Steve murdered her sister, and someone else murdered Elise and Mel?

In medical school, her professors had hammered home Occam’s razor when diagnosing patients: that the explanation requiring the fewest assumptions was the most likely. So what was more likely: that there were currently two murderers in town, one current and one from the past? Or that there was only one murderer, both then and now?

She pictured Steve’s eyes, felt the heat of his hand as she’d held it when she checked his pulse. Butterflies raced through her stomach. She leaned forward and rested her chin on the steering wheel.
God damn it
.

CHAPTER 55

D
eclan sat at one of the back tables in the faculty lounge of the elementary school and rubbed his hands over his face. Two bodies and one kidnapping attempt in as many days, plus the bridge had been completely washed out. And just before it all began, Steve returned to town.

Declan had listened to the 911 tape about the diner, but the voice was muffled, and he was pretty sure whoever it was had tried to disguise his voice. All he could say for certain was that the caller was male. So there was no help there.

He’d been going over and over the two murders and the attempted kidnapping. He knew in his gut they were all connected. It was too big a stretch to believe that a town as small as this one could have multiple murderers at work at the same time.

But he couldn’t find anything concrete that actually linked them. The three victims were all different ages and ethnicities. They lived in different parts of town. They were grabbed differently as well. Elise had apparently been grabbed on the way home from work. Mel was attacked in his diner. And Micah was taken from his bed.

And these murders all started when Steve came back to town. That was a coincidence that couldn’t be overlooked. Somehow, this all had to tie to Steve. But how?

The front door banged outside the office. Declan looked up as Russ, water running off his poncho, appeared in the doorway, two large boxes in his arms.

Declan smiled. “Any problems?”

Russ placed the boxes on the table closest to the door. “No. Luckily, the town going crazy distracted Dee long enough for me to slip these out of the station. Although I did have to swing by the station three times until I had those conditions.”

Declan walked over and read the label on one of the boxes.
Case File 12098: Simone Granger (Box 1of 2)
. He glanced at Russ. “You sure you’re okay with this? You could get in a lot of trouble if anyone realizes you’ve grabbed them.”

Russ pulled off his poncho, shook it, and hung it on the rack by the door. “I’m sure. You think these latest murders are related to Simone’s, and so do I. So hopefully these files will tell us something.”

Declan flipped the lid off the first box. “Did you get a chance to send out those fingerprints?”

Russ shook his head. “No. We’re still on snail mail, remember?”

Declan groaned. He’d forgotten about that. The state had automatic fingerprint machines, but in a place like Millners Kill, that kind of equipment was viewed as an extravagance. Small departments like this had to make a card and send it to the state via the United States post office. The state would then scan it into SAFIS and see if they got a hit. But there was no mail service with the bridge out, and even if there were, there was no guarantee they’d get a hit back quickly.

“But I marked it priority,” Russ said. “As soon as we can get mail out the door, it’ll be on its way.”

Declan reached into the first box and pulled out a stack of papers with a sigh—tonight’s reading. “All right then. Let’s get to work.”

CHAPTER 56

J
ulie let herself through the front door and dropped her backpack on the table by the door. Behind her, the storm blew the door wide, ushering leaves and rain into the front foyer. She wrestled it closed and turned the deadbolt, then leaned against it, a puddle of water developing under her feet.

After leaving Steve’s, she’d been too restless to head straight home, so she’d driven around the island. Millners Kill was a disaster. A few roads had full-fledged rivers running through them, others had giant puddles, and electric lines were down all over the place. It didn’t take Julie long to realize she needed to get inside. Being out was pure suicide tonight. But even once she’d decided to head straight home, it still took her over an hour to get here. She’d had to backtrack at least five times due to road blockages, and she couldn’t chance driving any faster than ten miles per hour.

She stripped off all of her clothes—just the short walk from the car had soaked them—and dropped them next to the door. Wearing just her bra and underwear, she walked to the laundry room just off the kitchen, flipping on the lights as she went. The house felt less empty with the lights on.

She got out her sweatpants, an old t-shirt, and some socks from the dryer—like a college student, she’d brought her dirty laundry with her on this trip—and pulled them on. Luckily, she had done her laundry as soon as she'd arrived, before the power went out.

She headed into the kitchen and pulled a coffee mug from the almost empty cabinets. Her parents had cleaned out most things, but she guessed they’d left a few things behind for “staging”—buyers supposedly didn’t like to visit a completely empty house.

She hit the button of the Keurig for a large mug of coffee.
Thank God they didn’t take you, my little friend
. She poured in a little sugar and took a sip. She nearly swooned with happiness.

But as much as the coffee warmed her, it couldn’t distract from her worries. She’d tried to call her parents on the drive over, but she hadn’t been able to get a signal. She knew they’d be worried not being able to reach her. She sighed.
Well,
at least the power’s still on.

Two people had been murdered since Steve had come back to town. And she knew Steve hadn’t killed Mel; she was sure of that. If, that is, the time of death was right. Which meant, by Occam’s razor, he didn’t kill Elise either. And then there was Micah. Why would someone grab him?

Julie walked into the den and turned on the light next to the couch. It gave the room a soft warm glow. She walked to the window and watched the storm rage outside. It made the empty house feel even emptier. She wrapped her hands around the mug, wishing the warmth would seep into the rest of her body.

She winced as she pictured Steve’s face. She knew she should feel vindication. But she didn’t.

Dark clouds whirled by outside. Julie went to the couch in the den and placed her mug on the side table. She pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around her, then grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. She needed noise. She needed to feel like she wasn’t alone in this big old house.

For a while she watched an old sitcom, but her eyes kept drifting to the large bay window. She could feel eyes on her. The hair on the back of her neck began to stand up.

“Oh, enough,” she said after a few minutes. She strode over to the window and looked out. The streetlights and the moon were bright enough to illuminate the yard. And it was still empty. The only things moving were the tall evergreens blowing in the wind.
No one’s there. You’re working yourself up over nothing.

Nevertheless, she pulled down the blinds. Then she walked the house, making sure all the doors and windows were shut and locked.

She stopped at her backpack by the front door and pulled out her Glock. She’d had it with her all day; she felt safer knowing it was nearby.

Back in the den, she placed the gun on the side table next to the couch, then curled up again. This time she really forced herself to focus on the show. She needed to stop creating fears where there was nothing.

CHAPTER 57

H
idden among the spruces in Julie’s yard, he watched Julie settle in on the couch. How many times had he stood out here and watched her when he was younger?

And tonight the show had been especially good: he had watched her pad through the house in just her black bra and panties. She still looked good.

Rain ran down his face. He didn’t care. The rain was irrelevant. Julie was the reason the game could continue. He’d worried after Steve’s arrest that it would be all over. Killing Mel could have turned into a mistake. He was too close. The connection too easily made. But the opportunity had presented itself and he just couldn’t resist. He should have been smarter, though, held back.

He frowned. He didn’t like thinking he wasn’t in control. Control was everything.
A momentary glitch—that was all.

He’d been away from the blood for too long. And after Elise, and then Micah—well, it was understandable that he had wanted more than a taste. So he had plunged the knife into Mel—again, and again, and again. The rage had poured out of him. God, the release.

Psychologists would say that he got some sort of sexual release from the deaths. But they understood so little. Sex was physical and done. Blood, death… it was so much more. Dripping in it, bringing it to the surface, having that power over life and dead—it was beyond anything this life could offer. It was the fulfillment of a life’s purpose. He was at his best in that moment. He was perfection.

A shadow passed the den window again, drawing his attention.
Ah, back in the den
. Julie had wandered the house for a bit, but now she was back. He wanted to move closer, peer in the window. But that would unwise. He couldn’t risk being spotted.

He blew a kiss to the window as Julie closed the blinds. His angel. Because of her, the game would be his best yet.
Until we meet again, my Julie.

CHAPTER 58

D
eclan sat in the faculty lounge of the elementary school, pushing through the Granger file. He’d run over to his sister’s house to check on his sister and dad, but he’d been too antsy to stay, so he’d headed back to the school again.

He was missing something. He knew it. He pushed back from the desk and rubbed his eyes. The power had shut off an hour ago, so he was forced to use a lantern, and it was straining his eyes. And despite all the time he was putting in, none of it seemed to be helping. So far he hadn’t figured out much of anything.

He kept coming back to the one detail about the case that had been bothering him for over ten years: the bloody clothes found in Steve’s closet. They were a big part of the reason why Steve was pursued as a suspect to begin with. But before Steve’s trial began, those clothes disappeared from lockup. They had never been recovered.

Declan was sure that someone had long since turned them to ash. But who had taken them? And why? It couldn’t have been Steve, because he was in custody when the items disappeared. So who else?

Keith, of course, had dismissed the disappearance as a mix-up—the clothes had been misplaced, or maybe taken by some crazy stalker obsessed with the case—but Declan had never bought that. That evidence could have nailed the coffin shut on Steve—or it could have set him free.

Declan pushed the papers away. There were no answers here. He stood up and walked to the window. Large ponds seemed to have popped up all over the island. Main Street was now a river. In the middle of it all was a killer. And Declan had no idea who it was.

Steve was alibied for both the attempted abduction of Micah and the death of Mel. For Elise’s as well, although he was wasn’t as confident on the time of death for that one. But he still didn’t think it was Steve. And the likelihood that there were two murderers in such a tiny town was so low it was laughable—which meant Steve wasn’t responsible for
any
of the recent killings.
So who, then?

A squad car pulled into the lot. Declan watched Russ get out and duck into the front entrance. Good. Declan had appreciated the young cop’s help earlier, but then Russ had had to go back on duty, leaving Declan to stare at the files alone. And to be honest, Declan could use the company right now.

Russ walked into the lounge looking a little worse for wear. He unzipped his raincoat to reveal a shirt that was splattered with mud.

“What happened?” Declan asked.

Russ pulled out a chair and slumped into it. “Flood waters are appearing all over town. Giant puddles, too. People aren’t realizing how deep the water is, and they’re driving in and getting stuck. I’ve pulled people out of at least five cars now.” He gestured to his shirt. “I’m out of clean shirts.”

Declan poured him a cup out of a silver thermos on the table.

Russ nodded his thanks and took a sip. He looked back at Declan, a smile on his face. “Hot cocoa?”

“I made some at my sister’s. I remembered you saying you didn’t like coffee.”

Russ took a big drink and then sighed. “Oh, this so hits the spot.”

“Did you get a chance to check on the fingerprint?”

They had decided to scan the fingerprint and send it over by email. The folks at the state didn’t like deviations from procedure, but under the circumstances, Declan figured they could make an exception.

Russ shook his head. “By the time I got back to the station, the power was out. We’ll have to wait until it comes back up.”

“Damn. That’s our best lead.”

Silence fell over the two men. Declan knew Russ was on the edge of exhaustion, and he wasn’t doing much better himself. But he had to keep trying. He needed to feel like he was making headway—or that he at least had a plan.

“You know,” Russ said slowly. “They still have the old fingerprint cards in the basement of the station.”

Declan looked over and raised his eyebrows. “You want to manually compare the print to every fingerprint in those files?”

Russ shuddered. “God, no. But we still have Steve’s from back then. We could at least compare his and rule him out.” The words Russ didn’t say hung in the air between them:
Or prove it was actually him.

Declan knew matching fingerprints wasn’t as easy as most people thought. It took an expert or a computer program to properly examine the loops, whorls, and arches on a finger. Even then there was debate as to how many similarities were needed, although most experts agreed you needed at least twelve to declare a match.

Declan shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. We could try, but unless there’s something that really stands out in the fingerprint, I don’t see how that will…”

Russ’s head had fallen to his chest. He jerked his head back up and blinked his eyes repeatedly.
He’s literally asleep on his feet
, Declan thought.

“How about we check that out first thing in the morning?” Declan said.

Russ blinked his eyes a few more times. “I can get to it tonight.”

Declan shook his head. “No. I think you need some sleep, and I know I do. We’ll get to it first thing in the morning.”

Russ stood up. “Okay. You going back to your sister’s?”

Declan glanced outside, imagining the flood-covered streets. “No. I’ll just bunk down in the med center.”

“Okay. I’m going to head back to the station, bunk there. Just in case.” Russ headed out. Declan walked to the window, taking a sip of cocoa as he watched Russ’s squad car pull slowly out of the parking lot.

With a sigh, Declan headed back to the table. He looked over the boxes. Each one had the case identifying information printed neatly on it. The handwriting was neat—obviously a woman’s.
Must be Dee. Nothing happens in that station without her.

He went still.
Nothing in that station happens without her. I am so stupid.

She’d been questioned at the time about the missing evidence, but had said no one had been in the station. But now that years had passed, maybe she had a different story to tell.
And maybe this one has more characters.

He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. Apparently he’d lied to Russ. Because there
was
someplace he needed to go.