Authors: Kylie Brant

Waking Evil 02 (50 page)

BOOK: Waking Evil 02

9.83Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

“It’s a lot to take in,” she allowed. And wondered what he’d have to say if she repeated Dev’s speculation linking Ruth Ashton to the red mist. “Lots of loose threads and not enough tying them together.” She leaned forward in her chair, both hands clasped around her cup. “But you know as well as I do that things start coming together all at once. And I have a feeling that we’re getting close, Mark. We’re getting real close.”

“I hope to God you’re right. We finally saw the last of the reporters a coupla days ago, and I’m hopin’ they’re gone for good. Folks have a right to feel peaceful in their homes. We need to bring this thing to an end, let people get back to their lives.”

“Let’s hope it’s soon.”

Mark took another sip from his coffee, his eyes sliding shut for a moment in appreciation. “Powell also said he was headin’ back here tomorrow. That you had a profile the two of you were goin’ over.”

“I
will
have a profile.” With that reminder, she rose. “I’m not done with it yet, but when I am, you’ll get a copy.”

He nodded. “And I ’preciate that, too.”

She left his office, stopping only to exchange a few words with the taciturn Deputy Stratton. Then she headed for her car. She wanted to look over her work before showing it to Powell, and the mention of the man’s name had ignited a feeling of urgency.

It occurred to her as she drove back to the motel that under ordinary circumstances she would have stayed up all night to get the details polished in the profile.

But last night had been anything but ordinary circumstances. And she couldn’t find it in herself to regret that.

Chapter 23

Celia Ann Stryker hurried out of the house as Dev pulled up at the curb. Anyone else might think their mama was anxious to see them. But he knew better than to expect a warm welcome.

He got out of the car and strolled up the pretty brick drive. His mama had done real well for herself. This new house she shared with his stepdaddy wasn’t in a gated community, but it was the next thing to it, with those stone pillars and somber dark metal signs at the entrance informing newcomers that they were entering Wedgewood Estates. He’d never been invited to this house before, although he thought his mama and stepdaddy had moved here nearly a year ago.

And that, too, wasn’t unexpected.

“Mama.” He bent to brush a kiss on the cool cheek she offered. “You’re lookin’ pretty as a picture, as always.”

That much was true enough. She was trim and attractive, in a black and white sundress and heels. Her blond hair was carefully kept the same shade as his own. And if age had the indecency to show up in her face, she had whatever discreet procedure necessary to banish it.

“Devlin.” Her smile was forced. “I expected you hours ago.”

“Granddaddy had a spell. I had to meet him at the doctor’s.”

Her eyes slid to the house. “That’s too bad. But the fact is, I set aside time this afternoon for a nice visit and now, well, now it’s later. Howard’s home. And, well, you know seein’ you always upsets him.”

He felt something inside him go cold. “Granddaddy’s fine, mama. He’ll appreciate you askin’.”

Her brown gaze returned to his with a start and she had the grace to flush. “Well, how you do go on, Devlin. As if I don’t care ’bout my own daddy’s health. I’ll call him before Howard and I go out tonight.”

“I won’t keep you long.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and wondered why the hell it was so difficult to talk to his own mother. To feel anything at all for her, outside a dutiful sort of love that had nothing to do with earned devotion. “It’s ’bout that night. The night they arrested daddy.”

Her face went as white as her dress. And her voice sounded a bit shrill. “Honestly, Devlin, we went over that once, just recently. I told you everythin’ I know, and I don’t ’preciate you dredgin’ it all up again!”

He rocked back on his heels and surveyed her. “Well, actually you didn’t. You refused to discuss it, remember?”

Celia Ann had a convenient memory when it was called for. “I recall no such thing. We had a long discussion and . . .”

“Ex-Chief of Police Kenner seems to think you can solve one mystery ’bout that night.” Manners had him taking her arm when she swayed, but she shook off his touch as if it burned. “Said he’d left somethin’ out of the police report to save embarrassin’ you. Somethin’ that has to do with why daddy was drinkin’ so much that night.”

“I have no idea what he’s talkin’ ’bout.” The color had returned to her face now. Twin flags of red flushed her cheeks. “And I refuse to have this conversation with you.”

Dev gave a slow nod. “That’s your right, I ’spect.” And certainly her usual method to avoid anything unpleasant. “Just means I’ll go directly to John Kenner myself. I don’t think he’d object to tellin’ me.”

She moistened her lips. Glanced in the direction of the house and back again. Following the path of her gaze, Dev noted a blind at the front window twitch. “It was such a long time ago.”

“I don’t reckon it’s somethin’ you’re likely to have forgotten.”

“You have to understand, I was young. Younger than you are now, actually. With a baby that needed constant attention. And Lucas workin’ all the time tryin’ to make more money. I would have been happy doin’ with less,” she hastened to add.

“Of course you would have,” he murmured cynically. Celia Ann was high maintenance. Apparently she’d had that quality even back then.

Her immaculate nails gleaming against the fabric as one hand smoothed over her dress. “I made a mistake back then, Devlin. One I’m not proud of, but there were all those factors drivin’ me to it.”

His entire system slowed. Blood. Heart. Lungs. A terrible sort of trepidation filled him. “What’d you do, Mama?”

“I hated that town with a passion even when I was growin’ up there,” she said, a flash of heat in her eyes. “People do more talkin’ than workin’, seems like. And there’d been talk . . . Lucas claimed it wasn’t true, but that didn’t stop some folks from repeatin’ it just the same. His name had been mentioned as the one who’d been steppin’ out with Sally Ann Porter before she disappeared. Even her mama, Jessalyn, asked him ’bout it.” Her hand lifted to cover her heart. “You just don’t know what that did to me, hearin’ such a thing. Wonderin’ if it were true that Lucas had been unfaithful.”

The picture forming in his mind was an ugly one. “So you decided to get even. Just in case it was true.”

Celia Ann hesitated. “There was a man who was sweet on me. Not important who it was, and it wasn’t many times that we met.” Her eyes filled with tears that he wished he could believe were genuine. “Your daddy came home early that night and caught us.”

Even half expecting the revelation, the news caught him like a swift right jab in the solar plexus. No child should have to know this much about his parents’ private lives.

“Okay.” He swallowed hard. Reached wildly for the objectivity that served him so well in his research. “I imagine things got . . . unpleasant.”

“There was a terrible row. Lucas and . . . the other man busted up the place before your daddy ran him off. Then we had ourselves a terrible screamin’ match. He started drinkin’. We didn’t keep much liquor in the house, but we’d had a barbecue ’bout a month earlier. There were a few bottles people had left, and he started in on them. He got . . .” She gave a quick shudder. “He wasn’t himself. I was scared and called his family. Scooped you out of bed and ran over to my daddy’s house. I never knew the rest ’til the police came knockin’ at our door the next day.”

He stared at her, emotions careening and colliding inside him. “Pretty quick to give up Lucas, too, weren’t you, once the news broke.”

Guiltily, she flushed. “You didn’t see him that night. It wasn’t the man I knew. He was violent. And so angry. I really can’t say what he might have been capable of.”

And that really was the crux of it, Dev thought numbly. Maybe no one was what they seemed. Scratch the surface, and all sorts of nastiness oozed forth. “I guess the same can be said for all of us, Mama. But you’re hardly blameless in all this.”

The moisture in her eyes had miraculously cleared. They were flinty now. “You’ve got more than a bit of your daddy in you, Devlin. Always expectin’ more of people than they can give. Makes you hard to be ’round, knowin’ I can never live up to your expectations.”

If she’d thrust a knife in his chest, she couldn’t have wounded him more deeply. He took a deep breath. Blew it out. When he was able to speak, he said, “Maybe that’s true. Or maybe you just don’t have more to give. Whichever the case, I don’t think either of us needs to pretend anymore.” He nodded toward the house and said with heavy irony, “Tell Howard hey for me.”

She didn’t try to call him back as he headed for the car. Would it have helped if she did? He didn’t know, but he doubted it. Whatever fragile pretense of a relationship they’d managed to tiptoe around for the last couple decades had been irrevocably altered.

But he sat in his car for several minutes after Celia Ann had disappeared into the house. His fingers clenched and unclenched on the steering wheel. Seemed like the more he discovered, the more questions he had. Problem was, he was losing his stomach for hearing the answers.

He started the vehicle and pulled away from the curb. He couldn’t help wondering about something his mama had said. About him wanting more than people could give.

And whether Ramsey just might agree with her.

The UNSUB is a power-assertive offender, using a value system from a century-old religious sect to condone his act. The trappings of the religion, i.e., the plant the victim was forced to ingest, are part of his signature. His approach probably includes the con or surprise, and he is likely to use force to ensure compliance. Evidence suggests he didn’t act alone.
The victim’s death was a predetermined outcome of the attack itself, but the UNSUB would likely use sexual torture to “punish” the victim for some perceived unworthiness during the duration of the assault.
The offender is likely to be of above-average intelligence, Caucasian, between the ages of thirty-five to fifty. Given the strength of the value system he uses to justify his act, it is doubtful this is his first offense. He is extremely high risk for offending again.

Ramsey reread part of her completed profile and wondered yet again if she was taking a step off a steep cliff with this one. But she couldn’t get beyond the part turmeric had played in Ashton’s religion. And that frightened her.

It was her job to look at all possibilities. To weigh them carefully and to retain objectivity. The greatest flaw an investigator could have was to be blinded by a mind already made up.

And there were a lot of questions still unanswered.

Sanders obviously believed Frost was “unworthy” since he’d chosen her sister over his former fiancée. Not to mention the motivation that life insurance policy gave him. But what possible connection did he have with the sick perp who had carried out the crime? The one with a link to Spring County? Matthews hadn’t found one. Rollins hadn’t either. And Sanders was liable to walk away from this thing if they didn’t discover it.

She looked at the clock as her cell rang, startled to discover it was nearing eight thirty. Food hadn’t been uppermost on her mind while she’d completed the profile, but she was starving now. Hopefully the call was from Dev with ideas for dinner.

But the voice on the other end of the line wasn’t Dev’s. It was Rollins.

“I’ve found it, Ramsey. Damn, I still can’t believe it.” His tone was a mingle of urgency and incredulity. “Started workin’ on that genealogy software of Kendra May’s again after dinner, and there it was, big as you please.”

Anticipation torched her system. “You’ve found Sanders’s connection to someone here in town?”

“It’s loose.” He sounded as though he were trying to tamp down his own excitement. “Mighty loose. Third or fourth cousin—I never can make hide nor hair of that. But the relationship is there, all right.”

“Who is it?”

“You’ll never believe it. Wouldn’t myself if I wasn’t sitting here starin’ at the screen with my own eyes.” Just when she was getting ready to scream the question at him again, Mark took a breath. “Quinn Sanders is some sorta kinfolk to Reverend Jay Biggers.”

Stunned, it took her a moment to digest the news. The crotchety pastor who held such a dim view of Dev? Then her gaze dropped to her profile again. Because this shot the first hole in her conclusions. She wouldn’t hazard a guess to Biggers’s age, but he was older than fifty-five.

“Shit. I started talking to all the ministers in town today, but was leaving him for last because I’d sort of met him once already.”

“Don’t feel bad.” Mark sounded disgusted. “I’ve known the man practically all my life, and this ’bout has me poleaxed. I’m headin’ out to his place to have a word with him. Figured you’d want to come along.”

Ramsey was already out of her chair. “Damn straight.”