“Sure thing,” said Liddel. “I’ll note that.”
“And what about Gloria?” said Wren. “She’s got to be lying about being in on the scheme. This was premeditated murder and she helped premeditate. I’m positive of that.”
“Well, hopefully we can find some evidence to that effect,” said Liddel. “We’ve got our guys out there combing the scene where we found the van. If we can get Sanders’s phone, maybe we can find some incriminating texts, and we can nail her with that.”
“Great,” said Wren. “But if not? If there’s no evidence? You think she’ll walk?”
“Oh, she’s going to do some time,” said Liddel. “You don’t carry bodies out to a car and walk away with a slap on the wrist. Especially not when one of them is an FBI agent. But if we can’t prove premeditation, it’s going to be harder to get a serious sentence to stick. It could be as little as three years.”
Wren made a face. “Figures. Why is the justice system always crap like that?”
Liddel raised her eyebrows.
“Sorry,” said Wren. “I’m bitter. There’s a perp back home who killed nine-year-old girls. Destroyed entire families, you know? And I’m afraid they’re going to let him out, because he was too careful not to leave evidence. It just… it eats at me.”
Liddel nodded. “That’s rough. I think we’ve all got those cases. The ones that get away.” She squared her shoulders. “I hope yours doesn’t. I hope they nail the bastard to the wall.”
“Oh, believe me, so do I,” said Wren.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
IT was three weeks later when Wren got a call from Arnold Davis with the results of Hawk’s appeal. Because the appellate court was simply going over written briefs, they had opted not to attend. Instead, Wren spent the day cleaning the bathroom—on her hands and knees, scrubbing at dirt she could barely see.
By that time, they were back in West Virginia, staying at the facility that held their offices. Reilly had been bedridden for most of the that time, but he was doing better now, and he was able to get up and move around a bit. His body was knitting itself back together.
When the bathroom was sparkling and reeking of bleach, Wren stalked into the living area of the suite where she and Reilly were staying, where he was propped up on the couch, surrounded by pillows and watching Food Network. He was still on a liquid diet, so she didn’t know why he was torturing himself, but that was what he seemed to want to binge.
“You’re in a good mood,” said Reilly, who was also scrolling on his phone.
“Are you even watching that?” she said. “You’re scroll-watching. I read an article about that, and it apparently, it makes you dumb.”
He glanced up at her. “I’m nervous about it, too, Wren.”
She flopped down on the chair that flanked the couch.
“Maybe we should have gone to the courthouse.”
“You can barely get off the couch,” she said. “Davis is going to call us the minute he knows anything.”
“We just gotta wait,” Reilly said to his phone. “Here, I want to show you something.”
“I hate waiting,” said Wren, getting up and coming closer.
Reilly handed her his phone. “It’s a block away from the Daily Bean.”
She furrowed her brow. “You want me to look at a house right now?”
He gave her a small smile. “Fuck Hawk, Wren. Just fuck him, and I don’t want to think about him.”
Her shoulders slumped.
“Look at the house. Look at the deck.”
She looked down at his phone. “Cai, this has too many bedrooms. We don’t need this many bedrooms.”
“Come on, Wren, are we going to talk about this? Ever?”
She scrolled through the pictures on the phone, sighing again, heavily. “Well, it’s too soon to know anything.”
“I don’t think it is, because I looked at a calendar, and I’m capable of counting days.”
“Well, without taking my birth control, my cycle can be erratic,” she said. “And we shouldn’t buy an extra bedroom on the off chance that I’m having a baby you don’t even want.”
It was quiet.
Reilly’s voice, low and melodic, cut through the silence. “Will you look at me?”
She set the phone down on her knee and looked at him.
“I do,” he said. “On the off chance you’re having a baby, I want it.”
“But you said—”
“Fuck what I said.”
She began scrolling through the pictures of the house too fast. Now, she’d seen them all, and she was just glancing at them all again, seeing them but not really registering them.
At that moment, the phone rang.
Not the phone in her hands. Her phone rang. Her cell phone, the one that was still in the bathroom, because she’d left it there on the sink while she was scrubbing the floor. She tossed Reilly’s phone on the couch and ran to pick it up.
It was Davis.
Her fingers were shaking. “Hello?”
“Am I on speaker?”
“No, I’m…” She hurried back into the living room and took the phone away from her ear. Her hands were trembling so much she could hardly touch the screen, but finally she managed it. “Okay. Davis? You’re on speaker.”
“Reilly’s there?” said Davis.
“I’m here,” said Reilly. “It’s bad news, isn’t it?”
“They remanded it back to the lower courts for a new trial,” said Davis.
“What?” said Wren. She collided with the couch, gripping the arm of it. “A new trial? A do-over? But why?”
“They determined that the relationship between you and Marner might have caused possible improper police conduct, and they want that examined in a trial,” said Davis.
“But you said that because Reilly wasn’t even the arresting officer—”
“I told you not to go see him, didn’t I?” said Davis, his voice rising.
“I didn’t,” said Wren.
“Fuck,” muttered Reilly.
She lifted her gaze to him.
“It shouldn’t have mattered,” said Davis. “Because it’s an appeal, and they can’t bring in anything new. But they have you on camera, Reilly. And you lied about who you were when you signed in, which looks even worse. It didn’t come up in the briefs, obviously, because it wouldn’t have been allowed, but everyone knows, and it looks bad. It looks like there’s personal beef.”
“Fuck,” Reilly said again, his voice agonized.
“What did you say to him?” said Wren. “When did you go?”
“Just before we left for California,” said Reilly. “It was a mistake. It was a stupid, stupid—”
“It was stupid,” said Davis. “Now, we’re going to trial, which means you guys on the stand, and the defense attorneys going at you.”
Wren put her fist in her mouth and bit down. She was still shaking.
“The worst is that his attorneys have already filed a motion to get him released until the new trial.”
Wren let out a strangled noise that might have been a sob.
“I know,” whispered Davis. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish I had better news for you guys.”
“And that’s going to happen?” said Wren.
“I couldn’t say,” said Davis. “It could go either way. Our office is going argue our faces off that setting that man free is a menace, but I don’t have to tell you that the fact we haven’t charged him with the murders of those girls hurts us. I can argue he’s a serial killer. I can say that if we let him go, children will die, but…”
“But this isn’t even about that,” said Wren. “This is just about the murder of Karen Freeman. So, how much are they going to be swayed by that argument?”
“We’re going to do our best for you guys,” said Davis. “You got that?”
“I’m sorry,” said Reilly. “I’m very sorry that I went to see him, and—”
“No, you know, it’s not that. It’s honestl
y his lawyer. It’s Skip fucking Taylor. See, I figured he didn’t push for the oral arguments in the appeal because his plan was to lose the appeal and then file for a new trial. Because with a new trial, he could bring in new evidence. The appeal cut him off at the knees, because he was limited to only what was presented at the first trial, which wasn’t much of a trial, since we had the plea. Anyway, I was thinking we had time. I thought, the appeal will get shot down, I’ll get some confidence in Marner’s guilt, and I’ll convince the district attorney’s office to file charges for him on the girls. I gotta say that I’m astounded that the appellate court went this way.”
“How is he paying for someone so high profile?” whispered Wren.
“His girlfriend,” said Davis. “I told you, she’s his sugar mama.”
“Deborah doesn’t have money like that,” said Wren.
“No,” said Reilly. “She doesn’t. But who knows, Wren, he’s probably got some GoFundMe or some shit. People love an innocent man in jail, and he’s… well, you know how he is. You want to believe everything out of his mouth.”
Wren rubbed her forehead. This couldn’t be happening.
“Hey, guys, I gotta go,” said Davis. “I have some more calls to make and I’ve got some other things on my plate. I will be in touch, though. And I’m sorry I didn’t have better news.”
“Of course,” said Wren. “Thanks for letting us know and keeping us in the loop.”
“Take care, Davis,” said Reilly.
“You guys, too,” said Davis. “I will personally do everything in my power to keep him behind bars.”
They said their goodbyes and hung up.
And then they were quiet.
Wren was still shaking. She hugged herself, biting down hard on her bottom lip. She felt like she was back out in the woods again—naked and scratched up and terrified.
Shock, she thought wryly.
“I don’t want to talk about that,” said Reilly. “About him.”
She turned to look at him, her eyes blank. She bit down harder on her lip.
“Seriously, I meant it when I said fuck him.”
She let out a helpless laugh.
“Wren, do you want it?”
“What are you talking about?” she said. And then she remembered the conversation that had been interrupted. She bowed over the couch, shaking her head. “I’m probably not even pregnant.”
“Then where’s your fucking period?”
“Shut up, Cai.” Tears were coming to her eyes. She didn’t know why that was always happening lately, but it was probably a sign. A bad fucking sign. She wiped at her eyes.
“Sorry.” His voice was insubstantial. “Sorry, I’m being a goddamned jerk about this. I’m just…”
“You don’t want me to be pregnant.”
“I just said—”
“Yes, but you said the opposite before. Lots of times. You were adamant.”
“What do you want?” he said. “Tell me you don’t want it, and that’s… I… It’s your body, so I’ll respect whatever you—”
“This is seriously the worst time to talk about this, Cai, you realize that? Hawk is getting out of jail.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Yeah, but ‘fuck him,’ right?” She spread her hands. “You just dismiss it, but imagine if he’s out there, if he can come knock on my—”
“We’ll get a restraining order, and if he comes near you, he’ll go back to jail,” said Reilly, shrugging. “I hope he knocks on our door. I can’t wait for him to screw up.”
She sighed.
It was quiet.
Reilly sucked in a breath, and suddenly, he started talking, words tumbling out of his mouth, tripping over each other in a rush to get out. “It was all abstract before, and all I could think of were the hard parts, but lately, I think about it, and all I think about is… like, how happy we are, and how we fit together so well, and how well we work together? We would be an amazing parental team. And with Timmy, I wasn’t there enough, I don’t think. I missed things. But I could have another chance, and I want everything. Late night feedings and dirty diapers and every moment in between, and—”
“Cai, please,” she whispered.
“And if the baby is autistic? I know what to look for,” he continued. “We’ll get help right away, and we can figure out how to make it work. Janessa and I, we were never on the same page about anything, but you and me, we’re in sync all the time. So, I think… I’m not even worried.”
She just gaped at him.
“You don’t want it,” he said. He looked away, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. Of course you wouldn’t—”
“I’m not pregnant!” she snapped. “But if I was…”
A long, long pause.
She crossed the room to a bookshelf on the opposite wall. She ran her fingers over the spines of the books, which had just been there when they arrived. They must have come from a garage sale or something—Stephen King and Danielle Steele paperbacks. “I know I’ve always said I’d be a terrible mother.”
“Wren, that’s bullshit.”
“But I’ve been thinking, too. I know I didn’t have a good mother to show me what being a mother is, but my father was kind of a mom and a dad to me. And I don’t think… I mean, I am screwed up in some ways, Cai, but if I had a baby, I would love that baby so much. I would never hurt—I could never—”
“Of course you couldn’t,” he agreed.
“So, I think I might be okay at it. I think I might even be a good mom.” She shrugged.
“You would be an amazing mother.”
She turned to look at him, and now she wasn’t sure what she was feeling. Was that emotion inside of her hope? Was it… was she feeling something good?
“I say we buy the house regardless,” he said. “Because if you’re not pregnant now, we should do it someday. I want to do it. I want… with you.”
More tears. She turned away from him, swallowing the lump that was forming in her throat.
“Wren?” he whispered.
She shook her head, but she couldn’t look at him.
“Do you like the house, though?” His voice was gentle.
A sob was rising in her.
“Come on, do you like the deck?” His tone was lighter now. “We can walk to get coffee. We can go in the afternoon on the weekends, just stroll down there and get coffee. Of course, if you’re pregnant, you should stop drinking caffeine.”
She rounded on him. “What?”
“You didn’t know this?”
She shook her head slowly. “That’s… barbaric.”
“I’ll quit too,” he said. “We’ll do decaf. It’ll be fine. I think it’s only for the first trimester.”
“No coffee?” She shuddered. “Now, I really do feel like crying.”
WREN was walking back into the facility with a plastic bag in tow from the drug store in one hand. In the other hand, she held her phone, which was pressed to her ear.
“Hey, Jessica!” she said. “How are you and your sister?” Wren was close to Jessica and her twin sister Natalie, and she spent a lot of time visiting and doing fun things with the two of them. “I’m so glad you called.”
“We’re good,” said Jessica. “We just wanted to know what your address is now that you’re not in the cabin, because we’re having a birthday party, and we want to invite you.”
“Really?” said Wren. “That’s amazing. I would love to come. Can I text the address to you? That might be easier than you trying to write it down.”
“Yeah, that’s good,” said Jessica. “And can we send Timmy’s invitation to you too?”
“You’re going to invite Timmy? That’s so sweet.”
“Timmy’s our friend,” said Jessica. “We’re inviting all our friends.”
Wren should have known better. This wasn’t a pity invite. Jessica and Natalie knew what it was like to be different, given their strange upbringing in the woods. Of course they genui
nely liked Timmy, despite his limitations. She had seen the three of them playing together, and she knew that the girls were true friends with Timmy. “Yeah, of course. I think Timmy will love that. You can definitely send the invitation to the same address.”
“Awesome,” said Jessica. “Thanks, Wren.”
“Okay, I’ll text you as soon as we hang up. I guess this means I have to get presents for you guys?”
“Oh, you don’t have to,” said Jessica.
Wren chuckled. “You’re so polite.”
“If you want, you can,” said Jessica.
“You have a wish list you want to run by me?” Wren said, still grinning.
“A pony,” said Jessica.
Wren snorted.
“That was a joke,” said Jessica.
“Yeah, I got that,” said Wren. “All right, well I’ll figure something out, then. I can’t wait for the party.”
“Neither can I,” said Jessica, giggling.
They said their goodbyes and hung up. Then Wren texted her the address. By this time, she had entered the lobby of the facility and she was moving past the coffee that was set up, looking at wistfully. No caffeine? Really?
She spotted Maliah and Trevon walking through the hallway together.
“Wren!” said Maliah, coming over to her. “Trevon and I were just coming back from lunch.”
“You guys do lunch together now?” said Wren.
“Well, we’ll all do lunch together when Reilly’s back on his feet,” said Maliah.
“Do you think it’d be weird if I popped into give him get-well wishes?” said Trevon. “I thought maybe since I don’t know you guys very well, it might be, but then I don’t want to be rude either.”
Maliah rolled her eyes. “Trevon has a soft touch in some instances and goes overboard in others. I’m surprised he didn’t send several bouquets of flowers.”
Wren furrowed her brow. “We did get a bunch of flowers from someone anonymous.”
Trevon winced. “Was that bad? I made sure they were all yellow. For friendship. Because I didn’t want to accidentally seem like I was, you know, angling for a date.”
“Trevon,” said Maliah, “back to your lab before you hurt yourself.”
Sky Like Bone: a serial killer thriller Page 18
