“Yes. Absolutely.”
But it was Morgan who addressed the elephant in the room. “Mr. Walker, I admire your altruism, not to mention your honesty, but why tell us now? What does this have to do with your capture, and why did you specifically ask for us?”
Tom took another sip of his coffee. “I asked for you because I knew you were both working the case. Mr. Young, you seem like a nice, capable guy, and I wanted to reward you with this information. And you, Detective Lee, saved my life. This is the least I can do. As for how it can help… I believe it saved my life.”
“How so?”
“St. John was forcing me into confessing that I drove that night. I couldn’t do that. Writing a police statement is one thing, but that would be signing my death warrant. I think he only kept me alive because he didn’t know whether to believe me, but that wasn’t going to last forever. I’m lucky you got there when you did.”
Morgan felt a wave of sadness at this. He thought of Dusty, the young man who’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Had he died for somebody else’s mistake? It hardly seemed fair. What if he’d been the one to spill the beans on the real driver. Would he have lived? Could somebody have saved him then? The very idea of it drove a stake through his heart, bleeding it until there was nothing left.
An idea struck him.
“Wait,” he said, standing up and kicking back the chair. “Did you give the name?”
“To Arthur St. John?” Tom asked.
“Yes.”
Tom nodded ferociously, like it would save his life. “Y-Yeah. I mean, I had to.”
Although Morgan could read the shame all over his face, it wasn’t all bad news. It actually made things a little easier for him, and the spike of adrenaline flooding through him made that more than clear. Excitement rattling his hands, he reached into his pocket and produced a pen with a sheet of paper, throwing them both across the desk.
“What’s that for?” Gary asked.
“If the killer knows who really drove the car that night, I’m willing to bet he’ll be heading there next.” He turned back to Tom, the urgency filling his voice until he had no control over it. “I think you’re safe for now, Mr. Walker, but I’m going to have to ask you to write down everything you know about that man, starting with his full name.”
“You really think he’ll go for him?” Gary said, standing up with him.
Morgan was more than just a little convinced—he was damn sure of it, like he’d never been so certain of anything in his entire life. “I’m counting on it, because this time I want to be ready for him. This is our only shot, and I’ll be damned if we don’t take it.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
After taking the note, they’d located a man named Cooper Kelley. Tracking him down hadn’t been too difficult; he’d had a criminal record for most of his life. They were only for minor offenses like petty theft and one arrest after getting into a bar brawl on the darker end of town. Since then he’d moved house every six to eight months, but thankfully he’d kept updating his address with the bank, which made it a breeze to find him.
As a digital salesman, Cooper had been able to move around freely, but that didn’t keep him from renting out a nice property. The floor plan was basic, the yard more or less nonexistent, and the decorations limited. It seemed that Cooper was a humble man with very few interests except making money and blowing it on alcohol and luxuries. It was good to deal with a simple man for a change.
Morgan had arrived only a few minutes before Gary, taking the time to explain why an army of police officers was about to arrive at his door. Cooper, whose face was already uneven, twisted up his features like the end of the world was coming. Morgan couldn’t blame him much either. Nobody wanted their home invaded because of a mistake they’d made a decade ago. So much could happen in ten years—hell, Morgan’s kid would be growing up by then, long settled into their formed personality, whether that be a boy or a girl.
He tried not to think about it.
“Am I in trouble?” Cooper asked as they stood together by the front door, watching two police cruisers and Gary, who drove his own car as usual, pull up outside on the street. There was an edge in his voice that showed true fear, and Morgan didn’t want to unsettle him. After all, a serial killer could come for him anytime soon.
“No. Not really.”
“What’ll happen?”
“That’s up to you, the police, and the justice system. But I promise you this: if you come clean and cooperate fully, our jobs will be a hell of a lot easier. It might even make things easier for you down the line. Right now though, we need to focus on keeping you safe.”
The police took their orders from Gary, setting up a perimeter around the house and finding their perfect spot to watch both doors. Morgan stood by as he explained to Cooper that he was under protection until further notice. The change of expression on his face was priceless, starting off as irate and then turning to one of paralyzed disbelief.
“Don’t worry,” Morgan said, the two of them turning to face him. He felt like the center of attention, which was everything he’d ever hated. “I’m going to stay here with you. Inside the house. As long as you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.” Cooper smiled, and it was like a bond had formed. “As long as the cops are watching in the day, having a private investigator in the house would make me feel safer. Anyway, it’s kind of cool. I bet you’re a good shot with your gun too.”
Morgan didn’t have the heart to tell him he never carried a weapon. He hated those things and would even go so far as to say he was frightened of them, but right now his job was to make the man feel safe, and that wouldn’t help.
It was Gary who spoke next, stepping up and whispering in his ear: “Can I talk to you?”
“Sure.”
They excused themselves and paced toward the sidewalk, keeping close and mumbling so as not to be overheard. “Are you sure about this?” Gary asked. “Captain Bray pulled me to one side earlier and grilled me about letting you near the case. He’s onto you.”
“Does that mean you won’t allow it?”
“It just means I’ll look the other way.”
Morgan grunted a sharp laugh. “Then yes, I’m sure.”
“He won’t be happy when he finds out.”
“Then don’t tell him.” Morgan glanced over his shoulder at Cooper. “I mean, look at this guy. He’s terrified. Earlier today he was just living his life, selling media online and snacking on cold food. Now his home is full of cops, a serial killer is coming after him, and from the look on his face when I gave the news, he’s only just found out about Dusty and Teresa. The least I can do is spend the night here to make him feel more comfortable.”
Gary nodded slowly. “Uh-huh. And what if the killer shows up?”
“Then I’ll call you. Besides, I like to imagine he’d get one look at the police cars and then run the other way. He’s pissed off, but he’s not stupid.”
“Fine, it’s your funeral.”
“Poor choice of words.”
“But true anyway. Just promise me you know what you’re doing.”
Morgan held his hands up. “Swear to God.”
That was one of the very rare occasions he’d ever lied to his best friend, and he didn’t feel so great doing it. But it was necessary—at least the way he saw it—or else he’d only stand in the way. And for as long as a survivor of the car wreck stood terrified in his own doorway, what was a little lie between friends?
Chapter Thirty-Four
Gary was the first to leave. As soon as he did, Morgan immediately felt less safe. While two police officers watched the house from their cars outside, two more finished securing the site, and Morgan still felt as though the safety and reliability had gone. There was no reason not to trust these guys, but gut instinct told him Gary was more capable.
He hoped Cooper didn’t feel that way. The entire reason he’d offered to stay was to make him feel more secure. The
poor guy hadn’t seen any of this coming, and Morgan felt it was only right he stay and keep him company. All he had to do now was explain to his pregnant wife why he wasn’t coming home tonight, and that only left him feeling more anxious.
The house was quieter now, with one police officer feeding emergency protocol into Cooper. Morgan passed by and gave him a quick tap on the shoulder, raising his cell phone to gesture he was about to make a call. He then continued through the house until he was in the backyard, one hand holding the phone while he tucked the other deep into his armpit.
Rachel answered right away.
“I was wondering when I’d hear from you.”
“Well, here I am,” Morgan said, smiling as a steady wind picked up and coursed through his hair, which he’d been meaning to get cut. The sound of her voice was like music right now. He could listen to it for hours. “How’s your day been?”
Rachel went on to explain that she’d been in to work that day, setting up some new charity fundraisers for HUCINS while putting out an ad to train her maternity replacement. It was typical of her to be thinking that far ahead, and Morgan knew at that point that their child would be in safe hands even if he weren’t involved. It filled him with hope, expanded his love, and relaxed every muscle in his body. That was, the ones he wasn’t currently squeezing against the hard bite of this evening’s bitter wind.
“But enough about me,” she said. “Where’s my baby daddy tonight?”
“Uh… that’s kind of a long story.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Morgan reached the fence, peered over and noted it as a security weak spot, then continued to pace around the yard. “Okay, here it is: it turns out there was a fourth person in the car on the night Dusty had that accident. He’s under police protection right now, but I thought I’d stay and double-check he’s safe. I know what you’re thinking—that it’s not my job, and you’d prefer I kept out of it—but I feel sorry for the guy.”
“So, you’re not coming home at all.” It was a statement, not a question.
“I’m sorry, honey.”
The silence was as cold as the breeze that whistled through the gaps in the fence. Morgan held still, shivering in dreaded anticipation of a response. When nothing came, he even took a quick glance at the screen to make sure they were still connected. “Babe?”
“I’m here. Sorry. I was just processing.”
“Are you okay with this?”
“Absolutely. I told you I support this thing, didn’t I?”
“You don’t sound like you mean that.”
Rachel sighed. Whether it was deliberately audible was anyone’s guess. “The whole private investigator thing is a good idea, and I’ll always encourage it. This thing with Dusty… well, I told you I understand, but I don’t agree with it. Though that doesn’t mean I’ll fight you on it. You just make sure you’re both okay, and hopefully I can have you back in the morning.”
“Of course you can.”
“Then it’s settled.”
It sounded so final that Morgan caught himself gulping. It was like someone had forced a tennis ball into his throat, choking him on the spot. All he could do was cut it off early, hoping to get out of the frying pan. “Do you need anything? I could take a quick trip home before the cops leave. Just say the word.”
“That’s not necessary. But you can do one thing for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Be safe.”
Morgan turned on the spot, staring through the kitchen window at Cooper, who was just now waving goodbye to the cops before he closed the front door. Spending the night on this guy’s couch wasn’t exactly what he wanted—he’d be in immediate danger if the killer really had the balls to make his move tonight—but something deep inside told him it was the right thing to do.
Even if that did put him at risk.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Is this enough for you?” Cooper Kelley said, throwing down a single pillow with a stained case and a sleeping bag the same color as the ocean. He spread half of it across the couch and dropped the other half beside Morgan, who sat bolt upright on the far end.
“That’s great, thanks.”
“It’s me who should be thanking you.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Cooper crossed the room toward the window, flicking open the blind panels and peering out into the street. “It’s good having cops watching my back, but now I get my very own private investigator. Do you really think that killer—what’s his name—will come here?”
“His name is Arthur St. John,” Morgan said, horrified that he didn’t remember the name of the man whose life he’d ruined. “And I don’t know, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. If sleeping on a slightly uncomfortable couch for one night is what it takes to make sure, I’m all for that. I just don’t want to lose anyone else.”
“You mean like you lost Dusty?”
A sharp jab of pain hit his heart.
Morgan looked away. “Exactly.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Every day.”
Cooper sighed. “Me too. We were good friends for a long time.”
Until now Morgan had no idea they’d been close. Today was the first time he’d ever even heard of Cooper Kelley. Now here he was, sitting on his couch and preparing to stay the night. This case was just full of surprises.
“Why didn’t your name ever come up, then?”
“What do you mean?”
“Dusty and I were real tight when we were younger. We told each other everything.” Except for the truth about the accident and how they’d killed an innocent family on a deserted road in the middle of nowhere. But Morgan elected not to comment on that.
Cooper came and sat in the armchair facing the couch. His face was a picture of pain and a failure to understand. “Actually, I don’t know. Hate to say it, but I guess he didn’t feel the same way about me.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Oh, that’s all right.”
Morgan sat in silence, biting his lip and wishing he’d bitten his tongue. There wasn’t another word between them for a while, but maybe there didn’t have to be. Perhaps Morgan’s presence in this house was enough to make up for that comment.
Just then, Cooper stormed out of the room. He returned seconds later with a bottle of wine in one hand. He set two glasses down, unscrewed the bottle’s cap, and filled both glasses to the brim. He handed one to Morgan. “You know, I’ve had this on my desk for over a week. I was going to kick back and celebrate a new business deal, but a toast is just as good.”
“To Dusty, then?”
Cooper nodded. “And to Teresa.”
They clinked glasses. Morgan raised his and took a shy sip. It was sweet and juicy. He took another, this one more akin to a gulp than a sip. It fell down his throat, hitting the spot and emptying the glass in one go.
“Steady,” Cooper said, only half emptying his own glass.
“I needed that,” Morgan said, laughing.
Cooper topped up their glasses, laughing with him. “You and me both.”
“So, tell me about this business deal.”
“Not much to tell, really.”
“But you sell media.”
“That’s right. Online.”
Morgan took the refilled glass and sat back on the couch, reaching an arm out across the back of it. It was more comfortable this way, holding himself up so his butt didn’t dig into the spring underneath. “This is your living?”
“Oh, absolutely.” Cooper slumped back into the couch and crossed his legs like an excited kid telling a story. “There’s nothing to it. I do my research to find what would make people’s lives easier, then I make it, then I advertise it. People lap it up real quick. The life span on each piece isn’t that long, so I quickly make the next one and sell that instead.”
“Sounds like you got a sweet gig.”
“I love it.”
Morgan smi
led and took another sip, a piercing sensation spiking through his brain. He reached to cradle his forehead in his thumb and forefinger, but then the feeling passed. “You should create an app for private investigators. Kind of like a wall map for information.”
“That’s not the worst idea I’ve heard. Problem, is, most private eyes are a bit older than us, and it’s mostly the younger folk who are keen to buy technology. There’s a demographic for all online media, and it’s usually capped at forty. Obviously you’re an exception.”
“Wow.” Morgan laughed. “You’re smart.”
“I’m just careful. What about you?”
“What about me?”
Cooper slid a leg out from under him, stretching it as he closed his eyes and heaved in a big breath. He blew it out through pursed lips. “Sorry, my day just caught up with me. Anyway, about you. Is it a coincidence you’re working your cousin’s case?”
“Not at all. I’m kind of pro bono.”
“Aha. Self-hired.”
“Self-hiring means you’d pay yourself.”
“True.”
Morgan raised an eyebrow and raised his glass for another sip, but the hammering pain in his skull returned. This time it was sharper, causing him to drop his glass. It shattered on the hardwood floor, wine and shards spraying in a wide radius. “Damnit. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry.” Cooper shot up and took two steps toward the kitchen.
Then there was a thud.
Morgan craned his neck, suddenly feeling as though he were engulfed in sludge. The room turned in circles as he tried to sit up. Fatigue hit him, every movement slower than the last. It felt like he was in space, gravity heaving him off his feet. He was ready to hurl.
“What… did you do?” Cooper asked, barely conscious on the floor.
But Morgan hadn’t done anything. Had he? His mind was a swirling vortex of questions as he tried to stand, but his legs gave way under him. Wine soaked through his pants, glass crunching under his palms. He felt nothing—only weakness. That sensation grew, his skull feeling like it was made of lead. Once more he tried to stand, but his body wouldn’t let him. His eyes were the next to go, slowly closing while his energy left him, like a soul leaving the body after death. He could no longer move at all.
Mason & Morgan- The Serial Killer Collection Page 73
