The young policeman sucks in one long breath, then speaks. “We found her, sir. She’s out back, buried in a shallow hole right near the others. Sir, she has an arrow through her chest.”
8
THIS TIME I GAVE THAT vapid psychologist something to write about. I told her what I’ve been thinking about your mother, that she needs to be eradicated like a putrid infection. I daresay I raised her eyebrows a couple times as I described how that woman piques me.
The more I mull over it, the more I realize how your mother’s personality was all wrong for me. Churchgoing, needy, always taking my income and refusing to work and make her own. Honestly, how would any man not get exhausted with demands like that, in the face of all that righteous stubbornness? The only way to escape her is to visit my woods and hunt, like I did as a teen, when my own mother tried to control everything I did. What miniature tyrants mothers are!
Of course, I feel I’ve invested enough time in you that you won’t hold to your mother’s beliefs. You’ll see how fickle her God is, this God who says he’s the only one in the universe. Impossible. As you know, I’m well-versed on religions and they’re all the same, infused with moral codes we naturally obey. To end suffering, we must rid the world of greed and ignorance. Your mother can’t see this, because greed and ignorance drive her to go against me. I can’t seem to educate her so I had to remove myself from her, to minimize my suffering.
I got your letter and I do hope things are going more smoothly in this new foster home. It’s really too bad you have to be moved around so much. Just keep sharing good energy and things will work out in your favor.
SOMEHOW I MUDDLE THROUGH a couple more hours in the waiting room with Byron, who’s taken to muttering to himself before each fresh burst of typing. I keep picturing his ghostly face, emerging from the fog. He knew the motorcyclist was heading to the truck stop yesterday. He left soon after she did. But what would possess Byron to stalk and kill an older married woman? There seems no clear motive.
And Teeny. He was here early too. While it’s easy to picture Teeny snapping someone’s neck or punching them in the carotid, it’s also entirely possible that he’s handy with a bow. He could have buried her body before I arrived at the spa.
I wonder about that arrow. Maybe she didn’t even die from being shot with it. Maybe the killer shoved it in after strangling her or clonking her on the head with a rock.
But if it was murder by arrow, that necessitates premeditation to the utmost degree. Someone could be lurking outside the spa even now, watching each cop leave, waiting for an opportunity to kill another woman. Even my Glock won’t save me from a killer I can’t see.
Byron touches my arm lightly, almost sensually. I cross my arms and stand. “You finished?”
“Probably one more day will do it. You mind letting me in tomorrow?” He blinks rapidly, like he’s gearing up for me to cross-question him on it.
I probably should. I may not know much about computers, but taking three days to fix one must be overkill. Still, I don’t want to waste time with another of his obtuse explanations. I have a feeling D&R Computer Tech is taking Dani for all she’s worth. In the end, it might have been cheaper to replace the computers.
“I’ll check with Dani and she’ll let you know.”
He opens his mouth, doubtless preparing to tell me why it’s crucial he returns, but Detective Tucker strides in. Even in casual clothes, he exudes a certain menace. Maybe it’s the Julius Caesar haircut, or the zealous look he gets when questioning people. I find myself hoping I’ll never disappoint him. He’s like a tamed wolf. If he loves you, you’re gold. If he turns on you, you’re dead.
Sweat glistens on Byron’s forehead, the only sign he’s nervous as he shakes Detective Tucker’s hand. “Byron Woods.”
“Detective Tucker. You still hanging around here?”
“Yes, I’m just fixing the computers. Should be finished tomorrow.”
Detective Tucker pulls out his ever-present Coke bottle and spits into it. He doesn’t say one word, just stares at Byron.
Byron shifts on his neatly loafered feet, shooting me a hopeful glance. I don’t interject a comment. If he killed that motorcyclist, he should squirm.
“You talk to that drifter woman yesterday? Mrs. Spencer here tells me you gave her directions to that truck stop.”
“She was asking where to get gas. It’s the only place nearby, and I knew her bike could handle that path. I used to bike a little myself.”
“You don’t say.” Another tobacco stream hits the fast-blackening bottle. “Be here tomorrow, buckaroo.”
Byron flinches at the word buckaroo, but rallies fast. “Yes, I’ll see you then…thanks.” He heads to the door.
Detective Tucker makes a shooing motion with his hand, as if sweeping Byron out faster. When Byron reaches his van, the detective finally speaks.
“This is a bad business. Broadhead arrow through the chest, just like the others—the bodies we’ve exhumed were killed the same way. Only difference is the killer removed those arrows after death. Which means the wacko watched those women bleed out. Given where he hit them—heart and lungs—it probably happened fast. We can only hope.”
He makes a fist, punching it into his flattened hand to crack his knuckles. He continues his terrifying rundown of the crimes, much as I wish he wouldn’t. “Have you ever seen a broadhead arrow tip? It’s like three razor blades, Mrs. Spencer. I’ve heard with deer, it feels like a shaving cut…just a neat slice. But the internal damage is irreparable. They drown in their own blood. Who could imagine killing just one person that way? And there were eight bodies buried out there. This woman made nine.”
He finally registers my look of horror. “Now listen, I’ve given you a whole lot to take in at once. You need to go home to that lawyer husband of yours. I know he’s seen bad things and he’ll know what to say.”
My thoughts feel smashed and stuck together, like seeds in overripe melon pith. Nine women. Nine women in the backyard at my job. Thomas never saw anything like this.
“I don’t want you sharing any details of what I’ve said. I’ve told you things for one reason, Mrs. Spencer. I need someone on the inside here, someone who already has a relationship with people. I heard how you flushed out that killer last year. That’s the kind of thinker I need on my team. You don’t strike me as a flake, a fake, or any other character I normally hunt down. You have a level head and I’m pretty sure you care for the families of these victims.”
I nod weakly.
“We’re going to find them and let them know about their loved ones. But your observations of people involved with the spa will help me narrow things down. I won’t beat around the bush. This recent death seems to point to a serial killer, and I’m severely understaffed at the police station.”
“I have a child!” I burst out.
“And I have children, too. But sometimes God fingers people who are in the position to help Him enact justice here on earth. I’ll do my dead-level best to protect you.”
A clear image of the murdered woman floats into my mind. Toothy, open smile. Long, dark hair. Black leather everything. She was probably Nikki Jo’s age. If something like that happened to her…
“I’ll do it, but I want to know any details you have on this killer. I can’t go into this thing blind.”
He gives me a half-smile. “When I know, you’ll know.”
“And…I want you to stop chewing.” I have no idea where this bold request comes from, outside the fact that I think it’s a gross and destructive habit.
The detective chuckles. “You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Spencer. But my wife’s been bugging me to quit too. We’ve got a deal.”
We shake hands. His are calloused, speaking of hard outdoor labor, not shuffling paper. I get a brief image of him, camped in the woods out back, stalking a killer. I imagine this woodsman knows just about all there is to know about bowhunting. Then again, maybe that makes him a suspect.
9
> YOUR MOTHER CAME TO visit, weeping and wailing and gnashing her teeth. She asked all kinds of nosy questions, like did I talk to you on the phone? (Of course not, it would only make things harder on you.) Do I think of her often? (Yes, but only in the worst way.) When could we reunite our family? (Never.)
She has let herself go, as I knew she would. She’s probably eating chocolates from those drug-store candy boxes and watching soap operas. The poor woman has no life outside you. Honestly, some people just take up space on this planet and contribute nothing. Now you know why I’m such a staunch supporter of population control. If she doesn’t watch out, she’ll make herself too ugly to find a new husband when we divorce.
I realize I am rather blunt in my letters to you, but I know you have the mind of an adult and you can understand and handle these concepts.
I gave the dean my notice on Monday. I figured if the college doesn’t appreciate me, they can learn to live without me next year. Don’t worry, I’ll find other work. At least you and I will always land on our feet.
AS I SHUT DOWN THE computer and pack up to leave, Teeny wanders out. Detective Tucker has already returned to the back yard with his men. A couple units have arrived, bearing cameras and crime scene equipment. I’m sure they’re going to transport the poor woman’s body to the morgue today.
“What’s going on with the police cars?” Teeny looms over my desk, flipping a key ring around his large finger.
“Another body.” I don’t plan to go into detail with Teeny, who’s already on my suspect list due to his strange off-book appointments today. I have a lot to report to Dani and I wish he would just leave already. I don’t like being alone with this giant, no matter how benign he might seem.
His eyes widen. He seems genuinely surprised. “But this place was supposed to be safe.”
“I know what you mean. It seemed like the safest place in the world, all tucked into the woods on this mountain top. I figured working here would be low-key.”
Teeny looks confused. “Okay, I’d better get on home.”
Curiosity gets the better of me. “And where is your home, Teeny? Do you live in town?”
Buckneck is the only place that would warrant being called a “town” on this side of the mountain. Even though it’s hardly a metropolis with around 1,000 residents, it does have its own newspaper and post office, so it must be legit.
“Not right in town. I live outside it, up Fever Lick Road with my mom.”
So he’s about fifteen minutes away, which is the same distance I drive to work. Interesting he lives with his mom, because he must be in his thirties.
“I see. Do you have any appointments tomorrow? You know it’s almost July Fourth weekend.”
Teeny shakes his head. “Today was all.” He looks at me intently, like he’s about to say something, then abruptly turns and stalks out the door. I can’t figure that one out.
As if she read my mind, Dani’s Buffy ringtone sounds. She’d probably laugh if she knew I’d assigned such a violent TV show to her peace-loving, hippy self.
“What’s the latest? Do I need to come in? Things are nearly settled with my family.” She sounds relieved, but she won’t be for long.
“Yes, you’d better come over. The police are still here and Detective Tucker needs to talk to you.”
“What’s going on? Something new turn up?”
I explain everything to Dani, from the avaricious IT guy to Teeny’s mysterious appointments to the dead woman out back. Strangely, she seems most appalled that Teeny was putting in hours on the down-low.
“Who came in to see him? What did they look like?”
“Just a bleach blonde cougar type. I missed the other one—must’ve been in the kitchen or somewhere. Anyway, like I was saying, the body was the woman who went missing from the truck stop—”
“I heard you. No sense traveling cross-country like that. What kind of woman does that alone? I can’t believe she wasn’t even carrying a weapon.”
“Detective Tucker didn’t say that. Maybe she was.” I’m not impressed with Dani’s lack of sympathy for the dead woman. Then again, maybe senseless death doesn’t fit into her worldview.
“Please lock up and tell Detective Tucker I’ll be over in an hour. Thanks for holding down the fort. I have one more huge favor to ask. Could you open up for the computer guy tomorrow? I’ll come over after lunch.”
“Dani, there’s all this scandal swirling at your pool site and you’ve basically dropped off the face of the earth! I can’t be in charge here. I’m a receptionist, for Pete’s sakes. What if Tawny shows up again?”
“Don’t stress that. I promise I’ll be there in the afternoon. It’s just…family is more important than business.”
I know next to nothing about Dani’s family. She’s mentioned a sister, I think. But I do understand her point and I can tell she doesn’t want to elaborate on her family issues with me.
“All right. I’ll open tomorrow. But speaking of family, Saturday I have to be at home with my in-laws, okay?”
“No problem. Thanks for understanding, Tess. You’re a gem. I have no idea what I’d do without you…Teeny would never do all this for me.”
Once again I wonder why Dani is taking Teeny’s appointments so personally. Surely those two aren’t dating?
ANDREW’S TURQUOISE Karmann Ghia is neatly tucked in the driveway by the big house. Just like its owner, the car is impossible not to notice. Andrew is a Brad Pitt lookalike, but thankfully his looks aren’t the only thing he has going for him.
Andrew bashes through the front door to greet me, toting a squealing Mira Brooke on his shoulders. Today he’s wearing his ponytail in some kind of man-bun.
I give Andrew a quick hug, tapping at his hair. “New style?”
He smiles, passing my daughter over to me. Mira Brooke’s blue-gray eyes don’t leave Andrew’s face and she tries to reach for it. “You like your Uncle Andrew, don’t you, sweetie?”
“‘Course she does. I’m a lovable guy. And this baby doll is my favorite niece.”
“And your only niece. Is your mom in?”
“Sure thing. You know she’s planning a proper Southern picnic for tomorrow. Potato salad, pork barbeque, coleslaw, deviled eggs—”
“Did you bring a girl?”
He grins. “Now what kind of question is that? You treat my dating life with such disdain. But yes, I brought a girl.”
I sigh. Mira Brooke clutches my hair and burbles.
“I know what you’re thinking. ‘He’s in his second year of college, when is he going to get serious?’ Well, I think I have. This one is a winner, just you wait and see.”
Petey charges out the door with Thor. The tiny canine terror circles my legs, yipping as if I’m a total stranger. Petey shoos him off. “Knock it off, Thor! Sorry, Tess. Oh, and Mom’s waiting for you.” He swoops over and gives Mira Brooke a kiss on the cheek.
I arch an eyebrow at Andrew. He arches one back at me, as if throwing down the gauntlet.
“Your girlfriend inside? I’ll be delighted to meet her,” I say.
“You’ll like her.” His smug look oozes confidence.
“Here’s hoping.”
JUST AS I FIGURED, the tension in the kitchen weighs heavier than the humid air outside. I’m fairly sure Nikki Jo instructed Petey to send me in as soon as possible. She stands by the sink, furiously gutting boiled eggs. A sleepy-eyed girl who looks like she should be smoking in a French café gazes at me, finally fixating on the gun at my waist. Mira Brooke effectively unconcealed it by kicking my shirt to the side. I set her down to adjust my clothes, which aren’t nearly as fashion-savvy as the calculated-mismatched look Andrew’s girlfriend is sporting.
Nikki Jo turns, hands covered in sticky yellow. “Oh honey child! So good to see you!” She tends to make a big deal of me in front of Andrew’s girlfriends. “And Stella, this is Tess.”
“Hi, Stella. Nice to meet you.”
“Stella’s staying with my friend Winnie Ma
e from church. Although I don’t know if you go to church, do you, Stella?”
Stella shakes her head. “Religion is for the weak.”
Nikki Jo turns back to the sink—doing an admirable job of tongue-biting.
“I just got back into church myself,” I offer. “It’s actually been really helpful. And I’m not weak.”
She looks at my gun again. “I would guess you’re not.”
I sense that the snark factor is strong in this one. “Nikki Jo, would you mind watching Mira Brooke a little later on tonight? Like maybe around six?”
She washes her hands, drying them on a red towel that matches the Fourth of July decorations throughout the house. “You don’t have to ask twice. You and Thomas going out?”
“No, just having a home-date.”
“You want me to send food over?”
“No need, Thomas is picking up something. Thanks, Mom.”
“How’s the investigation?” The way she says it, you’d think I was lead detective on the case.
I have to tread carefully, since I don’t want anything to leak before Detective Tucker gives the okay.
“They have some new evidence.” I think a dead body could broadly be termed “evidence.”
“Well, good. Leave it to Zeke to crack this thing wide open.”
I nod, scooping up Mira Brooke.
Nikki Jo pipes up. “Listen, on your way out, could you tell Andrew to come in here? I need to ask him something.” I suspect this is another ruse so she doesn’t have to make conversation with Stella the sulky.
“I might could do that for ya.” I hug Nikki Jo. “I’ll bring her over in a couple hours. That way I’ll have a little time with her today.”
“You’re a good mother, Tessa Brooke. Isn’t she, Stella?”
My cheeks flame. My own mom never bragged on me like Nikki Jo and I never know the proper way to react.
Trial by Twelve Page 5
