The Only Girl Left Alive: The McClintock-Carter Crime Thriller Series: Book Three

by Susan Lund

Daryl Kincaid looked just as he had the last time Eugene had seen him—his graying hair pulled back in a long ponytail, balding on the top, weak chin, goatee. Tattoos up his arms and on his neck.

  Did he think he was a hardass biker or something?

  "Son," Daryl said and sat across from Eugene. "To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from you?"

  "Oh, I thought I'd come by for my once-yearly pilgrimage. For the sake of appearances."

  Daryl laughed ruefully, knowing full well that Eugene had no love for him. The feeling was mutual.

  Eugene had been a tool for his porn videos, nothing more.

  "Did you know they found the videotapes of you killing Patrice?"

  That woke the man up.

  Daryl sat up a lot straighter.

  "What are you talking about?"

  Eugene could see the fear in his father's eyes. Yeah, Dad. They finally saw you for what you are. A scumbag.

  "I guess after John killed Garth and offed himself, the cops raided his properties, looking for evidence that he'd killed Janine or Zoe. They found the motherlode. Boxes and boxes of old videotapes and floppy discs, hard drives, you name it. Apparently, there's one showing you smothering Patrice to death and little Serena watching the whole sordid business."

  Daryl said nothing for a moment, but the skin on his face had blanched. Finally, he shook his head slowly.

  "That idiot," he said under his breath. "That son of a bitch was supposed to clear out the room and get rid of the old tapes and hard drives after I came in here. I knew he couldn't run the business by himself; that's why I told him to shut it down. What the fuck was wrong with him?"

  Eugene shrugged, trying to appear sympathetic.

  "I guess he wanted to keep running the business," Eugene said, leaning back, a feeling of elation filling him at the expression in Daryl's eyes—that of a trapped animal. "I understand from Chief Joe that the prosecutors are planning on bringing charges against you for Patrice's death, for Zoe and Janine, as well as making and distributing child porn, to name a few of the charges. Looks like you won't be getting out in 2020 after all. In fact, they found some remains up at the cabin that might mean you'll be extradited to Idaho for murder. You know that Idaho has the death penalty."

  Let that sink in, you old bastard…

  "I never did no murder in Idaho," Daryl said with a growl. "If anyone did, it was John Hammond. He still had a key to the cabin when I came in here."

  "The girls went missing two years before you were sent here. Their remains were found buried in the yard." Eugene shrugged helplessly. "Pretty hard to prove you didn't do it."

  "I didn't do it," he said firmly. "Plain and simple. John must have, because it wasn't me."

  "John's dead. Good luck arguing that it was him and not you. The Feds want to close the cases and I'm worried they're going to tie them all to you, if they can. You had a regular route up to Spokane and back. You're the prime suspect. You were even up near Spokane when both girls went missing, so…"

  Daryl stared at the tabletop, peeling at his fingernails. Eugene could see a muscle pulse in his jaw. "They won't have my DNA on no girls from Idaho," he said firmly. "How can they prove it was me?"

  "Her bones were exposed to the environment, so they won't get any semen off her remains. They do have her blood in the cabin, and they have your DNA all over the place. Chief Joe said it was practically an open and shut case."

  Daryl shook his head, frowning. "I never did it. It was John."

  "They got you for Patrice. They'll want you for the rest. You know what cops and Feds are like. It'll mean you get identified as a pedophile," Eugene said, rubbing it in. "And a child killer. They never do well in prison. In fact, you'll probably be moved to the state pen in Walla Walla. I hear it's pretty rough. Not like Coyote Ridge, that's for sure."

  "It ain't right," Daryl said.

  "You're going to get life for Patrice, so you're not getting out before you die. I figure you either die in prison or die on death row in Idaho."

  Daryl finally glanced up, his eyes narrowed. "You're enjoying this," he said. "You always were a little shit."

  Eugene smiled, glad that he had finally got to the old man. "I'm what you made me. You and your perversions. You're going to get what you deserve."

  Daryl stood up abruptly and went to the door, knocking on it to indicate the meeting was over.

  Eugene remained seated, smiling while he watched his father leave the room.

  Good. Let the old bastard stew in his own juices for a while.

  Eugene figured Daryl might want to fight the charges on the girls from Idaho, but he'd lose. There was just too much evidence at the old shack; any reasonable jury would convict without a second thought.

  He considered the shack his masterwork. He'd used every bit of knowledge he had about crime scenes and murders to construct the perfect crime and pin it on his father, unleashing the evidence when he needed it.

  It was honestly too bad he had been abused as a kid—if he hadn't been born to Dear Old Dad Daryl and slutty Allison, if he hadn't been left in a festering hellhole of a home for five years, he might have been a great criminal profiler instead of a great criminal.

  He got in his vehicle and drove back to Paradise Hill, parking in the lot outside his apartment. Once inside, he rented a movie on his pay-per-view channel, and ordered a pizza, having it delivered so he had two transactions on record suggesting he was in for the night. After it arrived, he waited until it was really dark, then dressed in his night gear, including his night vision goggles, and walked to where he'd stashed his bike. He rode to the secondary vehicle, stashed the bike, then drove up to the shack for a night of fun and games with Elena.

  Elena was the first girl he'd kept alive for longer than a few hours; he was glad he had finally decided to give captivity a try for a change. He considered it proof that he was becoming more accomplished as a killer. He had been able to arrange things so that there would be no suspicion about him if and when people figured out that Jason hadn't in fact taken Elena to Montana.

  They'd never find Jason's body or vehicle. They'd never find Elena, unless Eugene led them to her body.

  When the jig was up, and he was ready to retire.

  That wouldn’t be for a long time, if he could help it.

  He'd been fastidious in his acts so far. His only slip-ups were with Michael Carter—damn the smug bastard—and having almost been seen by the girls before he took Elena. But he'd recovered from both and was still not on anyone's radar.

  He arrived at the cabin after ten o'clock. He'd used the night vision lenses and had driven most of the way up the abandoned logging road. He parked the vehicle and entered the shack, careful to make certain the blackout blinds were still down. Then he went to the top of the ladder leading down into the pit.

  "Elena," he said softly. "I'm baaaack…"

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tess was sitting on the sofa and watched the news when she received a text from Michael.

  MICHAEL: Kincaid's dead. Apparently, he had a visit from his estranged son, Eugene. Afterward, he went to his cell and hanged himself with a pair of his own underwear.

  She read the text over several times, still shocked at the news.

  TESS: Oh my God. That's a shocker. Do you suppose Eugene had anything to do with it?

  MICHAEL: Yeah, but the question is, what? I think the police are relieved that they won't have to go through a trial and the cost of incarcerating him. I wish the bastard would have waited until after he was convicted, though, so we'd know the truth.

  TESS: They're all dead, now. My father, John Hammond, and Daryl Kincaid.

  MICHAEL: They are. Maybe it's finally over and we won't have to worry anymore about these men harming any more girls.

  The original three men, best friends from high school, involved in the coverup of Janine Marshall's accidental death back in 1978— and who knew how many other abductions and murders over the years—were now dead.

  T
ESS: Let’s hope so, but there's still Eugene…

  MICHAEL: There is still Eugene. Don't know what to make of him, except he still creeps me out. I think he could have been involved in some of the cases. We have to keep a watch on him, even if police close the existing cases. There are still over two dozen girls missing in the four states. Oh, it didn't make the news, but Nash just told me that one of the girls in Roslyn who was being stalked by a man with goggles is missing. They think her father took her Friday night. He's been delinquent with child support and apparently was being prevented from seeing her, so he might have taken her. It's the most likely case, but I'm still very suspicious. It's too much of a coincidence that someone was stalking her with night vision goggles and then she goes missing.

  TESS: They can't find the father?

  MICHAEL: No. He's missing, too. No one has seen him for a while, actually. They think he quit his job and decided to take her to Montana where his family lives. But I don’t know. The girl is ten, has a screwed-up family, and went missing after walking home from a playground at night. Sounds too much like our killer to be a pure coincidence.

  TESS: If it is, it could mean Daryl and John weren't the killers.

  MICHAEL: Whatever the case, there's a missing person case started on the girl. We can add her to the list. Name's Elena Montgomery. Ten years old. Father's Jason Montgomery, 34, construction worker in Roslyn for the past decade.

  TESS: I’ll add her. How are you doing? How are the boys?

  MICHAEL: Shocked and worried about their mom, but they've seen her improve a bit, so I think they're happier. I'm enjoying my time with them. I'll probably come home by bus after Julia's mom gets here. Greyhound stops in Ellensburg so maybe you could pick me up.

  TESS: I will. Let me know when you need to be picked up. I miss you. See you soon.

  MICHAEL: I miss you, too. See you soon.

  Tess put down her cell and thought about Eugene. She wondered how it would affect him to learn his father had committed suicide. Like Michael, she was still suspicious of the man, thinking that of everyone who could have been involved, he best fit the profile of a serial killer. She had initially thought that Daryl Kincaid was the likely culprit, because he was such an obvious scumbag, but truly, Eugene seemed more like someone who was a psychopath and a serial killer.

  They were often colder, less obvious in their deviance, and tended not to be a suspect that anyone thought of first.

  Eugene fit the bill. Everyone except Michael thought he was a great guy, the perfect husband and father, who worked hard and put in the extra hours.

  Only Kirsten told a different story, about him being the not-so-perfect husband, cold, emotionless to her but a good fellow to everyone else. Her story had made Tess think he'd been guilty all along. Kirsten said he seemed empty inside, despite the smile he plastered on his face and how helpful he seemed to be. He always said the right thing but was otherwise emotionless.

  What made her unsettled was the fact that if he was her attacker, she'd been alone with him twice—once at the shooting range and once when she had gone with him to buy a gun. Part of her mind railed against the thought he was her attacker and had attacked Michael.

  Another part put two and two together.

  When Mrs. Carter came home from Kirsten's later that afternoon, she rushed right over to where Tess sat at the dining room table, poring over files.

  "Did you hear?" she asked, her voice breathless.

  "What?" Tess asked, not sure which story Mrs. Carter had just heard.

  "Daryl Kincaid killed himself. Hanged himself with his own underwear."

  Tess nodded. "Michael texted me earlier. It's a shock."

  Mrs. Carter sat down heavily on the chair beside Tess, resting her chin on her hand. "He was a troublemaker, no way around it. But still… I guess Eugene was there for a visit and told him he might be a suspect in a murder. He must have figured he was going to Walla Walla and didn't want to go."

  "He'd be labeled a child killer and pedophile," Tess said softly. "Those inmates don't do well. Maybe he didn't want to face it."

  "I guess not. Can't say as I blame him. In the end, maybe he actually felt guilty."

  Tess gave a sardonic laugh. "I doubt it. He's a psychopath. They don't feel guilty. More likely that he didn't want to be shanked in prison. Unless he was put in protective custody, he'd be a target for anyone who wanted to prove themselves by harassing a child killer."

  Mrs. Carter sighed heavily. "What else did Michael say? How's Julia?"

  "She's doing well enough. They boys were upset at first, but Julia's improving, so they're not as worried now. He said he'd call you later and he'll be home on Wednesday night. I’ll pick him up at the bus station in Ellensburg."

  "Good," Mrs. Carter said. "We'll have a nice turkey dinner at Kirsten's for Thanksgiving. Kirsten has the boys, so it'll be a real family event. Too bad Michael couldn't bring the boys down here."

  Tess nodded. "At least he's enjoying his visit with them.”

  "Yes, it's good that Michael gets to spend some time with the boys. He's missed them, being away for so long." She smiled at Tess. "You must miss him, too. The two of you have been inseparable since you came back to Paradise Hill."

  "We have, and I do," Tess said with a smile. "I'm glad he'll be home Wednesday night.”

  "Me too," Mrs. Carter said and squeezed Tess's hand.

  She spent the evening with Mrs. Carter, watching old movies and talking about the cases. When Mrs. Carter went to bed, Tess texted back and forth with Michael for a while, but finally, even she was tired and went to bed, wondering what news would come tomorrow.

  Mostly, she was curious about the case. And, of course, whether the new missing girl was really missing, or had been abducted by her father.

  It was frustrating to have so much news and not be right there in the middle of things, learning about the cases when news broke, and evidence was found.

  Which was another reason she really had to consider applying for the FBI.

  On Tuesday, Tess spent the day working on the files, matching up dates and names. After supper, Mrs. Carter went to her friend's place for a game of bridge, leaving Tess alone at the house. Tess put on the alarm system and watched the monitors on and off. She planned to spend her time at the dining room table, going over the evidence, but first she needed a good strong cup of coffee. When she went to the kitchen, however, she discovered that the bag of coffee grounds was empty. She'd have to go to the Safeway a few streets over to get some, but that would mean going out by herself.

  Michael had insisted that Tess not go anywhere by herself while he was in Tacoma, but the Safeway was only a few blocks away…

  She wrote a note to Mrs. Carter that she was going out for coffee and would be back soon, just in case Mrs. Carter came home early and found her gone. Then she pulled on her jacket and boots and hopped into her car. She drove to the Safeway and went inside, grabbing a bag of coffee and some cookies to enjoy with it.

  After she paid, she went back to her car. She had been sitting in the darkness for a moment, getting her belt on, when movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.

  It was a cyclist, driving down the side street in the darkness. She peered at the figure riding away, and noted the person was all dressed in black with a black hoodie on. It looked like a man and she immediately thought of what Kirsten had told her about Eugene going out at night for long bike rides. She started her car and drove down the street, watching as the cyclist turned down a street and drove down the back alley. She didn't turn on her car's headlights and stayed a block or two behind, on the main street. Soon she saw him leave the city limits, taking one of the service roads out of town.

  Was it Eugene?

  Kirsten said Eugene did a lot of long-distance cycling at night. Against all Michael's warnings, she followed him, always staying a considerable distance behind, pulling off to the side of the road and waiting until he got farther ahead so he wouldn’t hear her. He was
driving out of town completely, taking the service road running behind the lake up towards Roslyn.

  What was he doing going up to Roslyn? That set off all her alarm bells, given what Michael had said about the girl who had gone missing from that town. She watched as he drove off the main service road onto a side road leading up the hill and debated what to do. She didn't want to follow him too closely, or he'd see her and know someone was following him, so she took in a deep breath and decided to go back home.

  Better safe than sorry.

  But just as she was edging back onto the service road from the lane, she saw a vehicle pull out from the same road the cyclist had gone down. The vehicle had no headlights, and that was what made Tess change her mind.

  Unless the person had forgotten to turn on their headlights, it was clear that they wanted to travel without being seen. The old service road wasn't used often for travel, so she was suspicious.

  She reached into her bag for her cell, but found it was missing. She must have left it on the dining room table. Damn…

  She wished she could check Google maps and see where the road led. According to her car's compass, they were driving northwest towards the mountains.

  If it was Eugene, what the heck was he doing going up here?

  She had to find out.

  If worse came to worst and he saw her, she could simply say she’d gotten lost while out driving. She hadn't lived in Paradise Hill for a long time and wasn't familiar with all the roads. Besides, the cemetery was out that way and she could always claim she'd been out to get coffee and decided to stop off and visit her dad's grave, getting lost on the way back.

  It was a pretty lame excuse, but it was workable.

  Armed with her poor excuse for being on the road that late at night, she followed the other car, keeping her running lights and headlights turned off. There was nothing but the full moon to guide her on the road, but luckily, it was very bright, and she could travel without too much difficulty. After about fifty minutes of traveling on the winding mountain road that followed along Cle Elum Lake, she saw the vehicle take an even more remote road, with tall trees on either side.