Down the Darkest Road

by Kylie Brant

  Suppressing the excitement singing through her veins, Cady nodded. “I’ll follow up. If what you say is true, I’ll make a call to the warden.”

  The guard opened the door for Cady and Miguel to exit the room, and another one posted outside escorted them to the entrance.

  “He’s still pretending he wasn’t in the woods that night,” Miguel noted. “What would he have to lose at this point by telling the truth?”

  “I have no idea. But that part about the body? It follows with what Weber told us about Forrester killing his attacker with a chain saw. I followed up with the Cumberland sheriff’s office. The man charged in the knife fight was Brady Boss. He never showed up for court, and no one ever saw him around there again.” Her thoughts flashed to what Simmons had said about Gordon Melbourne. Cady couldn’t help but wonder if he’d met a similar fate.

  They left the confines of the prison and walked toward the vehicle. With the ladder on top and various equipment in the back, it’d fit in at a construction site. Which was exactly the reason the USMS used it.

  Miguel reached out a hand and remotely unlocked the pickup as she pulled out her cell and placed a call to the Cumberland sheriff to relay the tip. When Cady’d finished the conversation, she slipped into the truck, picking up the earlier conversation as if the interruption hadn’t occurred. “Why would Weber deny seeing a tent in the woods when Tillis made it sound like it’d be hard to miss?”

  Miguel started the pickup. “Both of them are motivated by saying whatever gets them what they want. A deal for Weber and now a good word with the parole board for Tillis.”

  “Definitely.” But if the details about Brady Boss panned out, Tillis would have opened a whole new avenue of investigation into Forrester’s past.

  When Miguel reached for the thermostat control, she slapped his hand away. “You have to be watched every second.” The rules were clear. The passenger ran the radio and heat.

  “You keep it too cold in here.”

  She smiled. “You have the body temperature of a ninety-year-old.” They pulled out of the lot and headed for the first of several security checkpoints. “Despite Forrester’s deep conversation with Byrd in the Madison County jail, I haven’t been able to verify that he shares the man’s pedophilia.”

  “It might be the one vice Forrester doesn’t have.” Miguel took sunglasses out of his pocket and flipped them open, settling them on his nose. “Maybe his interest in Byrd was just the inside workings of the deep web and not necessarily the subject matter.”

  “Exactly.” She sat back, satisfied. Cady didn’t know what it all meant yet. But she had a theory to share with the task force when it convened later today.

  She took out her cell and opened an email she’d received from Ryder. It was the eTrace results on the weapon found yesterday. She’d have to hustle when they got back to the office to get the information run off for the meeting later.

  Noting she had a missed call, she checked the caller ID. Dread slithered into her gut when she saw Haywood County Detention Center. There was only one person it could be from. Her cousin Bo.

  He’d tried to contact her before. She hadn’t returned that call, either. He and Alma refused to believe Cady couldn’t save him from the consequences of his actions.

  And she wouldn’t pretend to even want to.

  Chapter 31

  “You wanted to see me?” Jerry Garza appeared at Ryder’s office door.

  “I do. Shut the door, would you?” Once his chief investigator did so, Ryder waved him to a seat facing his desk. “Anything new on the porch pirates?”

  Jerry shook his head woefully. He’d be about Ryder’s dad’s age, had Butch lived. Well into his sixties, Jerry showed no indication that he was considering retirement anytime soon.

  “You’ve been here since, what? The eighties?”

  “Came on in eighty-eight. Was a cop in Richmond prior.” Garza hiked an ankle over the opposite knee. “You know that, though. Looking for some history?”

  “More like solving something that’s been puzzling me.” Ryder hesitated. Loyalty to Butch Talbot lingered in the office. The man had been well liked by the crew here. The need for diplomacy was paramount. “I went to look up an old case file on the Digital ReeL and discovered it was missing. It’s also not in the files downstairs.”

  The older man arrowed a look at him. “Seems to me there’s nothing like having the physical file in my hands. Never did see the point in getting rid of them.”

  He’d kept his opinion to himself, Ryder reflected. Which was another reason the man was a trusted employee. “Digital ReeL transferred everything we had from microfilm.”

  “So it was never on microfilm.” Ryder rarely had to waste time explaining things to him. Garza frowned, swiping a hand over his gray buzz cut. “Huh. You think it was lost or misplaced?”

  “I did. Until I found it and a few others at Dad’s place.”

  “Are they connected in some way? He might have wanted to take a closer look at them, look for a pattern.”

  “Not that I can figure out. There are six of them. Different types of cases, different people. The dates range from the mideighties to early two thousand.”

  “And none of them appear on the ReeL?” Garza rubbed his craggy jaw for a minute. “Well, there might be one thing. Your daddy ran unopposed most of the time, but every now and again some young upstart ran against him. A couple of times things got a little heated. What was that punk’s name?” he muttered to himself. “Fitzgerald. Got himself elected as a county supervisor and was a real thorn in your daddy’s side. Liked to stick his nose in where it didn’t belong. Thought he’d take himself a run at sheriff. Couple other times we had a deputy who didn’t see eye to eye with Butch do the same thing.”

  “You’re saying my dad would have removed files of cases that might have reflected badly on him?”

  “Not saying that at all.” Again, Ryder was reminded that Garza and his father had likely been close. “I’m saying someone with the desire can twist the facts of a case to make it look any which way they want. The press covers the sensational and ignores the boring reality.”

  Since he’d had his own experiences with media, Ryder nodded. “They surely can.” Nothing in the files had struck him as particularly sensitive. Even the Maddix case, while tragic, had appeared open-and-shut. “Doesn’t explain why they were never converted to microfilm in the first place.”

  The man shrugged. “Sorry, Ryder. I just don’t know what to tell you.”

  “No problem. At least I found them.” But long after Garza departed, Ryder turned the matter over in his mind, forming and rejecting theories about the files that had been hidden in Butch’s garage. His relationship with his father had never been an easy one. And maybe that fact was impacting the possible scenarios that occurred to him. Because none of them cast Butch Talbot in a particularly flattering light.

  Chapter 32

  Cady looked around the table at the task-force members present as she concluded summarizing the events of the last few days. “I have the warrant for Fielding’s cell. Once cyber forensics is finished with it, we can get the provider to ping it for location data.” It was just after noon. She wondered if they were destined to always meet over empty stomachs.

  “The rifle will be a great lead too.” ATF special agent Gabe Pearson held up the eTrace results she’d distributed to the group. “Too bad you nearly had to be killed because of it.” There was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the individuals around the table.

  “That’s me.” She tried to hide her discomfit with a light tone. “Always willing to take one for the team. The Haywood County sheriff’s office is investigating the shooting. But ballistics will tell us whether the weapon links to the one used in the Matthis and Bahlman homicides. I’m hoping you can fast-track the rifle’s line of ownership investigation.”

  “eTrace gave us the first owner,” Gabe replied. “I’ll see if it can be tracked from there.”

  The
if in his statement was critical, Cady knew. If ownership of the weapon had been transferred, the trail could get snarled. Criminals rarely used weapons that could be traced directly to them. Private sales and theft could be insurmountable obstacles to ever finding the current owner.

  “Ballistics will give us certainty as to whether the weapon was used in the boys’ homicides as well as in the attempt on Cady yesterday,” Gabe concluded.

  “My supervisor dug up my former warrants in this office to see if anyone of interest pops. That was a bust.” Cady hadn’t expected any differently. Her mind went to the only bandit she’d killed in the line of duty when she’d worked out of the Saint Louis office. Little more than a boy, really. Her reaction when she’d rounded the corner of the house and found him with his weapon pressed against another marshal’s forehead had been instinctive. Instantaneous. But knowing it’d been found a good shoot didn’t banish the scene from her memory. His family likely held her more responsible than most. But they were also six hundred miles away.

  DEA agent Curtis Weddig spoke up then. “I’ve been talking to fellow agents and drug task-force personnel around the state. While Loomer wasn’t a known entity to those in Cumberland County, Forrester was. He had midlevel status when he lived in Hope Mills. But his name isn’t on anyone’s radar now. That might mean if he’s still in the state, he’s no longer involved in drug trafficking. Or he’s doing so under an assumed name.”

  “Forrester has to be making a living somehow.” Cady tapped her index finger on the table as she formulated her thoughts. “He could be operating out of state or has false ID, as Curtis mentioned. I initially thought Forrester’s conversation with Byrd in the Madison County jail might mean he shared Byrd’s pedophilia. But I haven’t gotten any verification of that from our interviews. From Suzanne Fielding’s statement, we know that Forrester went right back to drug dealing after his release from prison. If he’s still at it, he could be using the deep web to sell his product this time. No one I’ve talked to claims that Forrester has computer skills, but two have verified that Loomer does.”

  “That’s a lot of maybes,” SBI agent Rebedeau noted. “And tracking anything on the deep web is like looking for a needle in a haystack. Especially without a site name or an IP address.”

  “Probably,” she admitted. “But I know those who do monitor cybercrime often run across things they aren’t actively investigating. They still might make note of it.”

  “DEA has cyber agents, right, Curtis?” Cady shifted her focus to Weddig.

  He nodded. “I can ask Henry Dallas. Maybe he’s aware of some drug sites that have been traced to this area.”

  It was clear he didn’t put much stock in the idea. Cady didn’t take offense. It was a long shot. And they were much more likely to catch Forrester by triangulating the location of his phone than running a drawn-out cyber investigation, even if one was warranted. She looked around the table. “Does anyone else have updates?” When no one spoke, she picked up the pen next to the yellow pad on the table in front of her. “We know we’re only hours away before we have lab results on Fielding’s phone, which will give us Forrester’s number. Then we can start pushing his phone provider and, God help us, maybe get a general location. Let’s brainstorm multiple strategies for various eventualities and the personnel needed for each.”

  The best scenario would be if Forrester had a fully equipped smartphone. Pinging sometimes gave an exact location. Other times, however, it narrowed the area to a few square miles. It didn’t matter. Adrenaline kick-started in her veins. Soon enough, they’d have a place to start the search for Bruce Forrester.

  Chapter 33

  Dylan trudged up the overgrown drive toward the house. Riding the bus home had sucked more than usual after a couple of days away from it. He hated the noise. He hated the constant stops and the bus driver yelling at the students horsing around. He hated that few of the kids were even in middle school yet, and most of the laughing and yelling revolved around jokes about farts and belching. He could barely recall being that age. It was like he’d been put in a time capsule and forced to age in a bubble.

  His mom’s car was in the drive. Dylan was surprised and a little pissed. There was no reason she couldn’t have come and gotten him at school like he’d asked. He could have spent a couple of hours with Grace, which would have been a hell of a lot better than the damn bus.

  Out of sorts, he took the key from his pocket and unlocked the door. They never left it open, even when they were inside. Security was a way of life.

  Tina sat at the kitchen table with an open beer in front of her. “I didn’t expect you home,” Dylan observed. “You said you wouldn’t be.”

  “No, I said I wasn’t gonna be your damn chauffeur. Come on in here.”

  Disgruntled, he let his backpack slide to the floor by the couch and went to the kitchen. He hoped she’d at least gone to the store today. “You still haven’t given me money for my lunch account.” And the spare cash he’d found scavenging through her collection of purses wouldn’t last long. He’d given some thought more than once to smashing that big piggy bank on his dresser. T had given that to him when he was little. But his mom would kick his ass if he did, and it wasn’t like there’d be much in it anyway. “By tomorrow, they probably won’t let me eat.”

  “Jesus, you’re in a mood today.” She snatched up her purse, which sat on the table next to a pack of cigarettes, and rummaged through it. Brought out two twenties and slammed them on the table. “Take it and quit your bitching. Been working my ass off doing laundry and shopping today. A thank-you would be nice.”

  Guilt filtered through him. Dylan didn’t ever recall when she hadn’t worked full-time, or at least juggled a couple of part-time jobs to make ends meet. And he couldn’t do much to help, other than to keep the place neat. “Thanks, Mom.”

  She grunted. “Welcome. Grab a soda or something and sit down here. We need to talk.”

  He pulled open the refrigerator and felt some of his ire fade away. It was stocked full. Selecting a Gatorade, he shut the door and twisted off the top of the bottle, flicking it into the trash in the corner before sinking into a chair next to his mom.

  A man came around the corner into the room holding a beer. He must have been in the bathroom or one of the bedrooms. He grinned at Dylan, revealing a gold bottom tooth that winked in the light. “Hey, boy. Been a long time.”

  Recognition flickered. He was tall and built like a toothpick. Shaggy brown hair nearly reached his shoulders. “Hey, Uncle T.”

  Teeter bounded into the room, punched Dylan in the shoulder. “Hellfire, kid, stand up and let me get a look at ya.” Grabbing him by the arm, he dragged Dylan out of the chair. Looked him up and down. “Holy shit. You might get tall as me someday. Last time I saw you, you was barely to my chest.”

  Discomfited, Dylan sank back down again. “Well, I was just a kid. Five or so.”

  “No, you was older than that.” Teeter sat down in the remaining chair and gulped from the can he held. “As I recall, it was right before the trouble in Hope Mills. You’d a been ten, I think.”

  Lifting a shoulder, Dylan brought the bottle to his mouth so he didn’t have to respond. He didn’t see how bringing T here was going to change much of anything. Unless . . . His gaze went back to the man. He wasn’t armed. That didn’t mean he didn’t carry, though. And from what his mom had said, he must have a gun if she thought he’d be protection against Forrester.

  “Like me and you talked about yesterday, Teeter will make sure no one comes nosing around,” his mom said.

  “Someone does, I’ll make damn sure they regret it.” Teeter’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he took a long swallow, then wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve.

  “Not a word of this to anyone,” Tina said, getting up to grab a couple more beers out of the fridge. “We wanna keep this quiet.” She sank into her chair again and slid one of the beers over to Teeter.

  T winked at Dylan. “Your mom said you’ll need
a ride home sometimes. I’ll be glad to do it. Long as I stay outside the school. Hated going even when I had to, y’know?”

  Smiling slowly, Dylan nodded. “Yeah.” Working at Grace’s house would be out of the question now, of course, but they could still meet after school. He looked at the man thoughtfully. It remained to be seen if the freedom he represented outweighed having gained a warden.

  Chapter 34

  It was nearly seven by the time Cady pulled into Ryder’s drive. She’d been in touch with the vet, and he’d promised to come in early tomorrow so she could collect Hero. He wouldn’t be going home, though. Neither of them would. Then she’d made a quick trip across town to check on her mom, who’d seemed—much to her relief—back to normal. Not even to herself would she admit that she’d put off returning to Ryder’s for as long as possible.

  She turned off her rental car. Sat motionless for a minute. The surveillance team parked in the discreet dark sedan in front of the house was a stark reminder of how far things had shifted out of her control. Cady glanced at Ryder’s home, lights aglow in its windows. It was a perfectly nice house, but it wasn’t hers. She hated being dependent on someone else. None of the houses she’d shared with her mom had been permanent. They’d always been one missed rent check away from being homeless. And given her mom’s taste in men, there’d been plenty of missed rent checks. Hannah had ping-ponged between relying on Alma’s largesse when they’d occasionally lived with her and her boys and then sending Cady to spend years with a grandfather who’d hated the sight of her. And had shown it at every opportunity.

  To be fair, Elmer Griggs had hated everybody. She’d just been the one unfortunate enough to be at his mercy.

  Grabbing her laptop and purse, Cady got out and locked the vehicle.

  Her gut clenched as she approached the front door. Did she knock? Walk in? A woman her age should have more experience with this sort of thing. In her adult life, she’d made damn sure she’d had her own space. She protected her privacy religiously.