Shuttered Secrets

by Melissa Erin Jackson

  The town had been in shock that a young woman could vanish without a trace.

  “I went out there,” Carter told her a couple of days later. “To Georgia, I mean, to talk to Mia’s mother. When I got there, Mia’s best friend and brother were already there. No one had come around or called since 2011 to even follow up on the case.”

  “Did you tell them there was a chance Mia was the last victim of a serial killer?” Riley had asked, wondering how one broached such a subject.

  “I tried to keep it vague. I told them I was working on a story about missing and murdered Black women, which isn’t untrue. They told me that the brother of Mia’s best friend, Daniel, was the prime suspect. He’d been in jail for a nonviolent drug offense and had gotten out a week before Mia’s disappearance. He also left town the day after she went missing. Rumors had spread that Daniel had made advances on Mia—which Daniel denies, even now—and that she’d been so disgusted with him, that she’d fled in the middle of the night to get away from him. When the cops interrogated him, they presented him with a scenario. They suggested Daniel had followed her to her house, enraged that she turned him down. In that ten-minute walk in the dark, they’d fought, Mia wound up dead, and Daniel had panicked since he’d just gotten out of jail. He disposed of her body and fled town for a while.

  “While it was true that Daniel had left the day after Mia’s disappearance, it was because he’d gone to visit friends in Florida since he was finally out of jail. It was an alibi that could easily have been confirmed, yet the police still saw the timing as suspicious. Given his history, they called him back to Georgia. They shredded the guy’s reputation. Social media campaigns were created both for and against him. He’d been the kind of kid who had always gotten in trouble—mouthy in class, dabbled in selling weed, a couple of fistfights in bars. It was a small town and he got labeled a troublemaker from a young age. So when Mia, a quiet, bookish, straight-A student went missing, who happened to be best friends with the sister of the town menace … well, I don’t think anyone even considered an outsider like Bruce.

  “The crazy thing is, a couple people had called in a tip that a blue sedan they hadn’t seen before had been parked outside Mia’s house the next morning. One caller even said they thought they saw Mia get into the passenger side willingly. The car didn’t have license plates.”

  In the snapshot Emery had shown her, Bruce’s blue car hadn’t had license plates either. Had Bruce used the photographer ploy on Mia, too? Riley wondered if Bruce had that same unexplainable charismatic pull that Francis Hank Carras had. It was an energy that sucked people in, as if they gave off a pheromone that reorganized your brain chemistry. Cult leaders had it, too. It was easy to stand back and say that you yourself would never be duped, tricked, and lured into a false sense of security by pretty words coming out of a pretty face. Anders might have given Bruce the tools to more easily insert himself in these women’s lives; but Bruce had figured out what to say to them to get them to trust him, a trust he then shattered at the first opportunity. The two men had complemented each other in the worst way.

  The next time she heard from Carter was two weeks later, and all he’d sent was a text. The story is hitting national news tonight. Lola Bodwell got it a premium spot.

  So, that evening at 6 pm, Riley, Michael, Jade, Jonah, Rochelle, Nina, and Olivia piled in front of the TV at Riley’s parents’ house. Her dad had foregone one of his large, fancy meals and had ordered three kinds of pizza. Riley was too nervous to eat. Everyone else was so nervous, they devoured most of the pizzas in under ten minutes of their arrival.

  The TV blared.

  “We’re coming to you tonight with a breaking news story that’s still unfolding. In 2003, a woman named Shawna Mack was found strangled to death at the Rio Bravo campground in Taos, New Mexico. Six months later, a second woman, Brynn Bodwell, was found in the same recreation area, also strangled. The two cases weren’t connected then, and both went cold. In October of this year, there was an unexpected discovery in a case that up until that point, no one knew existed. The body of Emery Dawson was found by a visitor to the Rio Bosque Wetland Park in El Paso, Texas who was out with his high-powered metal detector looking for hidden treasure. He never would have guessed that he would find the body of a Socorro, Texas woman who had been missing since 2005.

  “There are now two men in custody. Anders Pedersen, a Norwegian-American man from Albuquerque, New Mexico, who has made a living stalking women for a fee. Bruce Trager, Pedersen’s most lucrative client, split his time between running a photography business and being a long-haul trucker. Trager paid hefty sums to Anders for dossiers on these women, giving him a blueprint on how best to snatch his next victim—everything from daily schedules, to food preferences, to summaries of information compiled from social media, often based on pictures and posts the women themselves had unknowingly supplied.

  “Since the men’s arrest, the bodies of Rose Williams, Zoe Davis, and Mia Robinson have all been found. Like Emery Dawson, Rose, Zoe, and Mia had been stuffed into steel drums that Bruce was able to easily obtain during his work as a long-haul truck driver. In the dead of night, he would choose a remote recreational area which he would then frequent several times a week. He made several trips to his location of choice to dig a hole he would then cover up with plant debris. If the spot hadn’t been disturbed overnight, he would return to dig the hole a little deeper, as well as cart out any excess dirt that would be displaced by the steel drum he’d lower into it later, using dollies he had on hand thanks to his job. Once the woman was buried, he would move on to the next town and select the next woman, then wait for his dossier—his blueprint for kidnap and murder—from Anders Pedersen.

  “It’s believed that Trager, the operator of the now-defunct BT Photoworks, used his very real credentials as a professional photographer to lure young, beautiful women into his web of lies with the promise of a break as a model. He claimed to have connections in the film, TV, and fashion industry, and that he was on the brink of exciting change in his career, eager to bring fresh new modeling talent with him on his path to success. In reality, he lured them away for his dark purposes.

  “Trager stopped his murder spree in 2011 in part because the trucking company he worked for, Amity Trucking, went out of business. In the interim, Trager took a job in construction and suffered a severe injury in a forklift accident. It has been reported that Trager took that accident as a sign from the universe. Signs are what guide his life, he claims, and when he not only suffered a horrible accident, but survived it, he took that as a sign that it was time to change his ways.”

  The screen changed. Now, lined up in two neat rows, were the smiling faces of six women. Shawna, Brynn, Emery, Rose, Zoe, and Mia.

  Without cutting away from the images, the news anchor’s voice supplied a voice-over. “In a statement from Emery Dawson’s mother, Leslie, she says, ‘I’ve spent sixteen years waiting for the day I got a phone call about what happened to my baby girl. I knew in my heart that she hadn’t been a runaway, but no one would listen to us. There is no pleasure in saying ‘I told you so’ now. I would have much rather been wrong.”

  Tears tracked down Riley’s face. She knew that none of these six families would ever truly heal from a loss this terrible, but she hoped this would give them some sense of closure.

  “Zoe Davis’s little sister,” the news anchor said, the screen still filled with the faces of the women, “says that Zoe had always been a free spirit. ‘She was the kind of girl who never met a stranger. She loved trying new things, meeting new people, and experiencing what life had to offer. The idea that someone saw that bright light in her and snuffed it out breaks my heart. I want her to be remembered as someone who loved life with her whole heart. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss her.’

  “From Rose’s cousin, we received a message that says, ‘Rose’s dream was to break into Hollywood. She was so beautiful, so talented. She had the voice of an angel. She used to post her origin
al songs on MySpace, hoping someone would discover her. The wrong person found her and destroyed our family. I hope people never forget her name—I can’t.’”

  The screen returned to the grim expression of the woman behind the desk. “Both Anders Pedersen’s and Bruce Trager’s cases are expected to go to trial.”

  Riley could only marvel at the coverage of the story—one that focused on the victims, not the murderer. Bruce Trager’s photo hadn’t even been shown. He didn’t matter. The documentaries and deep dives into his psyche would come eventually, but at least for tonight, it was these women who got the spotlight.

  Her mother muted the TV. There was only a brief stint of stunned silence before everyone erupted into chatter. Michael hugged Riley close to his side and kissed her temple. She was glad they were all so invested, but she felt wrung out.

  Her phone started to ring and she pulled it out of her hoodie pocket to find Rodney Elgin’s name on the screen. “Oh shit. Guys, it’s Rodney.”

  Everyone quieted immediately.

  “Hey, Rodney,” Riley said, leaning into Michael’s side as she pressed the phone to her ear. His arm tightened around her.

  “My boy called me tonight,” Rodney managed before he broke down.

  Riley choked out a sob, but tried to hold it in, mostly because so many eyes were on her. “Yeah?”

  “We both cried like damn babies,” Rodney said. “He said he was sorry that things turned out like this. I told him I got a lot to make up for. We’re going to start real slow, but I think we’re gonna arrange something so I can meet my grandbabies for the first time. Isn’t that wild? I’m a granddad.”

  “That’s great, Rodney,” Riley said. “Really.”

  “I know you were nervous meeting me, and I can’t say I blame you,” Rodney said. “But thank you from the bottom of my heart for that picture, and for giving me the benefit of the doubt. Thanks for letting me talk and tell it my way. I don’t get a lot of that these days.”

  “I hope you and Malcolm get to know each other again,” Riley said.

  “Me too,” he said. “Me too. I’m real glad I met you. It’s so good to know there are more people like my grandmama out in the world.”

  “Thanks. Take care.”

  After disconnecting the call, she sniffed and wiped the sleeve of her sweatshirt across her eyes. She was just about to tell everyone what Rodney had told her when Nina and Olivia both sucked in a breath.

  Riley froze.

  The six women who had been on-screen minutes ago were now in her mother’s living room. Riley could only guess that they’d been able to manifest here because there were three mediums in one place, all of them thinking about the women at the same time. Riley’s, Nina’s, and Olivia’s energy had pulled the women to them, allowing them to show themselves. Even the non-mediums in the room had an energy that the ghost women could feed off of.

  They stood in a line, Shawna on one end, and Mia Robinson, who looked closer to an innocent-faced sixteen-year-old than an eighteen-year-old, stood on the other. All at once, they placed a hand over their chests and slightly bowed their head. It was the same gesture Emery had used when Riley vowed to find out what had happened to her.

  Thank you, they all said.

  One by one, they disappeared. Emery lingered the longest, beautiful in her bright yellow dress. And then she was gone, too.

  CHAPTER 29

  It had been several weeks since the news broke about the women who had been murdered and left across the country by Bruce Trager. She’d taken a week off work, unable to focus on much of anything. When Riley had confessed to her boss that not only was she a psychic medium, but that she’d played a role in helping solve the cold case that was all over the news lately, her boss had enthusiastically given her the time off as long as Riley promised to provide full details later.

  Riley and Rochelle had started a nightly re-watch of Tiana’s Circle, live texting each other into the wee hours. Though Riley had resumed staying in her own apartment, Michael had started to openly float the idea that maybe it was time they looked into finding a place to live in together. When the adrenaline rush of the last few months wore off, she was sure she would be all over the idea, but for now, she needed to decompress.

  She was an introvert through and through. If Emery were still here, Riley knew she’d understand.

  Today would have been Riley’s day off had she been working. Yet, she wasn’t in her apartment. She was in her parked car, already second-guessing her decision. The task at hand paled in comparison to the ordeal she’d gone through in recent months, but still.

  Michael: You can do it, babe!

  Jade: You’ll be great!

  Rochelle: Kick butt and take names!

  Riley stared at the group text, trying to let their encouraging words bolster her. The bolstering was interrupted by a phone call from Nina.

  “Hey,” Riley said. “What’s up?”

  “When you get a chance, can you swing by my house?”

  Riley cocked her head. “Uhh … sure. Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is great. I just have a check for you.”

  “A check?”

  “Yep. Amy Velasco got the life insurance situation straightened out. Between Randy our skater friend and the police doing a thorough search of that front yard—they found Iris’s blood on the bricks on the front planter—the insurance company had enough proof that Iris didn’t die by suicide. As a thank-you, Amy sent me a check for our detective work. You were just as much a part of this as I was, so I’m splitting the cash with you. It’s not going to buy you a villa in Italy, but it’ll buy you groceries for a couple months at the very least.”

  Riley was tempted to argue.

  “You can’t refuse it. I won’t allow it,” Nina said. “Plus, I’m hoping that the excitement of extra money will nudge you in the direction of accepting that consulting position I offered you at Galvan Investigations.”

  “Ah, this is bribery,” Riley said, smiling.

  “Damn straight. The check is waiting for you when you’re ready.”

  “Thanks,” Riley said, and disconnected the call.

  Riley wondered if Nina’s claircognizance had been the reason for that call at this moment. Either way, it had been enough to convince Riley to get out of her car.

  She hiked her purse higher up on her shoulder, heaved out a breath through her nose, and marched forward. In through the sliding glass doors, across the chipped linoleum flooring, and straight into the toothpaste aisle. It was currently deserted.

  The pissed-off ghost energy slammed into her almost immediately and she whirled around.

  He stood in front of her, fists clenched, jaw set. Her own fists clenched involuntarily. She recalled Nina’s words that had helped her so many times lately, and tweaked them to fit the situation and the ghost she faced now.

  Don’t let his emotions crowd out your own. Find the root of those emotions.

  She unfurled her hands, letting her fingers hang by her sides. She slowed her breathing and closed her eyes.

  He’s been waiting for who knows how long. Center yourself and listen to him.

  She opened her eyes. She wasn’t afraid. She’d faced down the likes of Francis Hank Carras and Anders Pedersen—flesh and blood monsters. She’d freed Pete from his decades of being trapped at Jordanville Ranch, had helped Amy learn the truth of what had happened to her mother, and found Emery’s body.

  This guy couldn’t hurt her.

  “Hi,” she said, looking the pissed-off ghost in the eye. His off-the-charts fury wavered for a moment. “Tell me what happened to you. I’m here to help.”

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  Other books by Melissa Erin Jackson:

  Every town has its secrets, but no one has a secret like hers.

  Amber Blackwood, lifelong resident of Edgehill, Oregon, has earned a reputation for being a semi-reclusive odd duck. Her store, The Quirky Whisker, is full of curiosities, from extremely potent sleepy teas and ever-burning candles to kids’ toys that seem to run endlessly without the aid of batteries. The people of Edgehill think of the Quirky Whisker as an integral part of their feline-obsessed town, but most give Amber herself a wide berth. Amber prefers it that way; it keeps her secret safe. But that secret is thrown into jeopardy when Amber’s friend Melanie is found dead, a vial of headache tonic from Amber’s store clutched in her hand.

  Edgehill’s newest police chief has had it out for Amber since he arrived three years before. He can’t possibly know she’s a witch, but his suspicions about her odd store and even odder behavior have shot her to the top of his suspect list. When the Edgehill rumor mill finds out Melanie was poisoned, it’s not only the police chief who looks at Amber differently. Determined to both find justice for her friend and to clear her own name, Amber must use her unique gifts to help track down Melanie’s real killer. A quest that threatens much more than her secret …

  Available at Amazon, Kobo, Barnes & Noble, and iBooks.

  Also available as an Audiobook!

  Acknowledgments

  As always, thanks a million to my growing army of beta readers. Thank you, Mom, Jennifer Laam, Garrett Lemons, and Margarita Martinez for reading all my books. And thank you to all the new readers who have joined the team recently. Thank you, John Parker, Gloria Beachem, Logan Harvey, Anna Leah Kincaid, Zephanasia Lewis, Kayla Henley (SSDGM!), Sarah Wu, Cynthia Sandusky, Sarah Duffy, and Alicia Hall.