“That’s a good question. Who does? Do we know anything about who shot this? How it got to Heather Hoffman?”
“One of us will have to ask Tweedledum.”
“Not It,” Will answered.
Graham stood up, glaring over the wall of his cubicle. “You know I can hear you.”
“We were counting on it,” JB said. “So? Got anything to add?”
He stalked over and tossed a flat manila envelope onto JB’s desk. Unmarked and nondescript. “Just the envelope she put it in. She said someone emailed her the file at the news desk. Should be enough for you two though. What with your exceptional detective skills and impeccable code of conduct.”
Will just smiled. He planned on going a full nine rounds in his garage tonight.
After Graham had left them in peace, he picked up the envelope. Light as a feather and probably empty. Still, he opened it anyway, shaking out any contents.
A single, folded piece of paper fell at his feet.
To: Heather Hoffman
From: A Concerned Citizen
Date: December 20 1:03 AM PST
Subject: Hickory Pit Footage
See attached.
“Un-fucking-believable.”
“You know this guy? Hawk?” JB asked.
Will reached in his drawer, picked up Drake’s book, and turned to Chapter One, page one, displaying it for his partner. “He’s Drake Devere’s main character.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Olivia stood in front of the locked door of the administration office and checked her watch. Well after six o’clock. Warden Blevins and his staff would be long gone by now.
“Can I help you, Doc?”
Olivia jumped, then laughed at herself. “Melody, you scared me. I just realized I forgot my notebook inside Gunderson’s office. Could you unlock it for me?”
“Don’t see why not. You just missed Warden Blevins. He left about five minutes ago. He’s still real shook up about that stabbing. Damn Riggs and Mulvaney. Can you believe Bonnie’s husband was in on it? I always told Maryann there was truth to the gossip. Where there’s smoke, ya know?”
Olivia only nodded, surprised the news of her own detainment hadn’t yet reached the Crescent Bay rumor mill.
Melody swiped her access key card and allowed her inside. “Go on in. Just be quick about it.”
Not ideal, since she had no key to the warden’s office and no freaking clue what she’d find there—a name placard that read “The General”?—but at least she’d gotten this far.
She skirted inside and made her way down the dark hallway toward the last door, her heart throbbing in her throat.
One quick glance back.
Hopeful, she tried the knob.
Locked.
Olivia wished she’d thought to bring her purse, but it sat useless in the trunk of her car. She felt certain she’d seen a few stray paperclips in Teresa’s office, and she’d left the door unlocked that morning, so she crept toward it feeling as sly as a cat. Until she realized her mistake.
Her father might’ve called the shots for Oaktown, held up a couple of convenience stores, strong-armed a few law-abiding citizens out of their money, even peddled drugs out of Apartment E. But nobody ever called Martin Reilly a sophisticated criminal. And apparently, the apple didn’t fall far. Because the blinking red eye of the camera mounted above the warden’s door followed her as she moved.
Olivia heard a voice outside the main door. A man’s voice. But not just any man.
She ducked into Teresa’s office as Warden Blevins swiped his card, and listened to the sounds of her demise, the mechanical beep, click then sharp creak as he pushed the door open the rest of the way.
“I told you not to call me on my state cell. They can trace that shit.”
When his heels began to click against the concrete, she ducked beneath the desk, holding her breath until he passed. He fit his key into the lock. For an instant, Olivia went back there, to the Double Rock. To Apartment E and jiggling her key that never fit into the lock but that day, of all days, had slid in with ease.
“I’ll be there. Tomorrow at seven.”
Then, silence.
She waited, listening and trying to control her breathing. She closed her eyes, scared that even a blink might be too loud.
Finally, Warden Blevins shut his office door. Inserted the key again.
It would be over soon. If she could just hold on.
Beep, click. “Hello? Olivia? Did you get what you— Warden Blevins! Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I forgot my car keys on my desk. Won’t get very far without those. Were you looking for someone?”
Olivia swallowed her panic in one massive gulp. Climbed out from under Teresa’s desk and – just like that day at the Double Rock – she opened the door. But this time, she knew exactly the sort of carnage she’d find.
“I’m here, Melody.” She avoided Warden Blevins’ avian stare. “I didn’t see the notebook. I must’ve left it at home.”
“It seems we’re both forgetful today, Doctor Rockwell.” He pulled Teresa’s door shut behind her. Locked it. Checked it. Checked it again. “You must be as distracted as I am.”
Adrenaline carried Olivia past the control booth and through the parking lot. She didn’t turn back, though she knew Warden Blevins had followed her out. She suspected his eyes had trailed her long after, all the way to her car. For once, she hoped to be swallowed by the fog. She didn’t retrieve her purse from the trunk, didn’t check her phone. She fired up the engine and peeled out. Anxious to lose this place. Or better yet, to be lost herself.
Like a rogue wave capable of shifting an island, the entire day had swelled inside her, ready to break. She rolled down the windows, let the cold air stream in, as she kept driving past the turn for home. She knew where she was headed, even if she couldn’t admit it to herself. Even if she felt like the worst big sister, running away again.
Her headlamps cut through the tendrils of fog, rising up like steam from the ground, and spotlighted the cabin at the end of Wolver Hollow Road. She moved without thinking. Out of the car, onto the porch step. In front of the door, knocking.
Deck looked surprised to see her standing there. He’d untucked his shirt, undone the first two buttons. In his hand, he held Drake’s book. The hawk’s golden eye judged her from the cover.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, looking her over.
That wave finally crested, knocking against her heart with indescribable force. She shook her head no.
The words in her head went like this. I need to hit something right now. But that’s not what came out of her mouth. Not at all. Her signals crossed in translation. Before she had time to take it back, he dropped the book to the floor, closed the space between them, and pressed his mouth to hers. Where it turned out she’d wanted it all along.
Chapter Fifty-Four
I need you to kiss me right now.
Will had done it a thousand times in his head. How different could it be? But then—
He laced his fingers through her hair.
She grabbed a fistful of his shirt.
He pushed her up against the doorframe.
She gently bit his bottom lip.
He moaned into her mouth.
Play by play, he matched her. Until the rest of the world blurred out of focus, small and insignificant beneath them. Until he stopped thinking entirely.
Until she laid her hand on his chest and pushed him away.
Will collapsed onto the sofa, breathless.
Olivia stood over him, leveling him with those impossibly green eyes. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have done that.”
“Right.” He smirked at her. “Bad idea. The worst you’ve ever had.”
“Excuse me? You kissed me first.”
“Only because you told me to.”
Olivia’s cheeks pinked, as she busied her hands, s
traightening her hair. Will thought about how his own hands had mussed it. How soft it felt tangled around his fingers. He wasn’t sorry.
“Oh, I see. So you were just doing me a favor?”
“I do what I can.” He shrugged. “Protect and serve, you know?”
She groaned at him but still joined him on the sofa, leaving a safe distance between them. “I need to talk to you about Warden Blevins.”
Her matter-of-fact tone crashed him back to earth. Where women went missing and turned up dead. Where sickos put broken-necked birds in boxes and stuck shivs in soft places. Where he’d somehow been anointed as the fixer of it all.
“I overheard him say he’s meeting someone tomorrow night. I want to follow him. I think he might be involved in Riggs’ death.” She paused, took a nervous breath. “I saw them exchange a package in the prison chapel a few weeks ago.”
“So that’s why you came over? To talk me into some half-baked conspiracy theory?” It didn’t matter that he believed it.
“No.” She sighed. “Maybe. I thought you’d want to help me.”
Will stood up and started pacing. He didn’t know what irked him more. That Dr. Smarty Pants had taken a straight pin to his ego. Or that it bothered him as much as it did. “Blevins hasn’t committed a crime.”
“That we know of.”
“You have no idea where he’s going.”
“Isn’t that the whole point?”
“Last time I checked, you’re not a cop.”
“And you’re not my father. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
Will gritted his teeth and turned away from her. When he looked back, the sofa was empty. The cushions, slightly sunken. Olivia marched toward him and planted her feet, her lips inches from his own. Her eyes dared him to do something about it.
“I’m going anyway,” she said.
“Knock yourself out.”
Olivia hesitated at the door. She knelt down and retrieved his copy of Bird of Prey. In his rush to kiss her, it had fallen awkwardly to the floor, creasing some of the pages.
She cocked her head at him, the corner of her smug mouth tilting upward. “You dropped this.”
*
Fog Harbor Gazette
“Dead Woman’s Husband Implicated in Prison Murder Plot”
by Heather Hoffman
The Fog Harbor Police Department arrested local resident James McMillan yesterday on multiple criminal charges, including felony conspiracy to commit murder, and misdemeanor smuggling of cellular devices into an institution. At the time of his arrest, McMillan was also found in possession of several stolen firearms and a large amount of cash. During a search of the family home, authorities located approximately fifty cellular devices which they believe McMillan intended to smuggle into Crescent Bay State Prison (CBSP), where he manages the GED program. Prison officials suspect McMillan brought the cell phones in by secreting them in the bottom of his insulated lunch box.
In the hours leading up to his arrest, forty-five-year-old CBSP inmate Thomas Rigsby was stabbed to death by another inmate, seventy-year-old Morris “Morrie” Mulvaney. Though the circumstances of the attack remain unclear, Mulvaney implicated McMillan as a co-conspirator in the crime. Sources close to the investigation reported Rigsby, who had ties to the Oaktown Boys street gang, may have used McMillan as a mule to smuggle various types of contraband for lucrative sums.
McMillan’s wife, Bonnie, was recently found murdered, the first victim in a string of brutal homicides that has stricken the usually peaceful Fog Harbor community, prompting concerns of a serial killer some have dubbed the Seaside Strangler. Newly minted FHPD detective Graham Bauer issued the following statement: “We don’t believe James McMillan had anything to do with his wife’s murder or the murders of the other victims. But we’re looking into his ties with the Oaktown Boys. The victims’ too. Any victimologist will tell you most homicide victims do something stupid—however small—that ends them up dead.”
Lester Blevins, Warden of CBSP, declined to comment on recent events, citing an ongoing investigation by the Institutional Gang Investigators (IGI). However, he noted that plans to install a cellular signal blocking system to restrict illegal phone usage had failed as residents living nearby complained of interruptions to their service.
James McMillan has reportedly retained Orillius Van Sant, a prominent San Francisco-based criminal defense attorney. Van Sant could not be reached for comment.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Will lay in bed and watched Cy circle a few times before he curled at the foot of the bed, satisfied with the prime real estate he’d selected. When Olivia left last night, he’d heard the poor cat meowing outside in the rain. He’d been feeling especially lonely then.
For hours, he’d tossed and turned, second-guessing himself. Replaying the entire scene. The way she’d fit in his arms, the words she’d said. How he’d screwed it up like usual. All of it, a song on repeat.
Cy still had his good eye open, his head resting on his paws. “I messed up. Didn’t I?”
Two blinks which probably meant yes, you oaf.
“What was I supposed to say, buddy? Was I really supposed to go traipsing after Blevins when we’ve got a real killer to worry about?”
Three blinks this time. Which also probably meant yes, you oaf, though he had plenty of good reasons to say no. Most importantly, he didn’t want Olivia to get hurt.
“God, I’m an idiot.”
Two more confirmatory one-eyed blinks from Cy, and Will tossed off the covers, dragging himself out of bed.
He walked to the window. Still raining with no sign of letting up.
“She wouldn’t go alone,” Will told a purring Cy, rubbing the soft fur on the cat’s orange chest. But then he remembered that first day at Grateful Heart, and every day since then, how she’d made a habit of running head first into trouble. Cy rolled over and bit him, leaving two tiny marks on Will’s hand. He wholeheartedly agreed with Cy’s ruthless assessment. Of course she would, you numbskull.
“Any news from Tammy about our DNA?” Will asked when JB arrived at the station, toting the newspaper and his breakfast: coffee and doughnuts, plural. Judging by the powdered sugar on his tie, he’d already had at least one.
“Nothing yet. What about the email address? Did IT have any luck?”
“Not much. It’s a dummy account. They traced it to the free Wi-Fi at the Hickory Pit. So, it’s basically a crap shoot.” Will sighed, thinking of Devere and his stupid book, and its fall to the floor, which brought him back to where the day had started. Olivia. He’d called her three times. All three had gone to voicemail.
“This will cheer you up, City Boy.” He tossed the newspaper onto Will’s desk. “Chief Flack is going to rip Tweedledum a new one, and I would pay for a front row seat.”
Will opened the paper and scanned the top story, searching for Graham’s name. “So, he’s a detective now?”
“Self-appointed, as far as I’m concerned.”
“And a victimologist?” Will remembered how Graham had introduced himself as Olivia’s boyfriend at the Hickory Pit. “He appoints himself to all sorts of things apparently.”
“I’ve got a committee I’d like to appoint him to. It meets right now at the end of my fist.”
When Graham walked in a few minutes later, JB smacked his fist against his palm and they both chuckled. But Will’s laughter came to an abrupt stop as Graham headed straight for his desk.
“What was Olivia doing at your house last night?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“How is that any of your business? And what do you care, anyway? Yesterday you acted like you didn’t even know her until she was cuffed in the backseat of my car.”
“I followed procedure. But I guess total disregard for policy runs in the family.”
“Following procedure?” JB interjected. “It looked to me like you were feeling her up, trying to get your rocks off.”
The
door to the station opened, briefly letting in a raucous chorus of reporters’ voices, then closed hard, with Chief Flack appearing on the other side. Her face redder than Will had ever seen it.
“Bauer, I need to see you in my office. Now.”
Head hung and mouth shut, Graham shuffled away. When he’d gone a few steps, JB called out, his voice deep and solemn as a knell.
“Dead man walking.”
Then, he turned to Will, a sly grin spreading cheek to cheek. “So, Olivia came over. Guess that affirmation worked, huh?”
Chapter Fifty-Six
Olivia wanted to be anywhere but here, on this barstool at Myrtle’s Café, facing Leah’s inquisition. Because she couldn’t tell her the truth. But she didn’t want to lie.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Leah asked, breaking her blueberry scone in two equal-sized pieces. “You sounded pretty shook up last night.”
Olivia shrugged, keeping her eyes down as she moved her eggs around her plate. She hadn’t taken a single bite.
“Why were you with James anyway?”
“I told you. I just ran into him at the Pit. I realized I hadn’t really talked to him since the vigil. Before I knew it, we were surrounded by cop cars, and he was getting arrested.”
Leah cocked her head to the side, a sure sign she was about to call Olivia out on her tall tales.
“What aren’t you telling me, girl?”
The list seemed endless. You knew you were in trouble when you’d lost count of your secrets. Olivia chose the safest, even though it felt raw. “I kissed that detective.”
Leah brightened, smacking Olivia’s arm. “I knew you were into him.”
“I’m not into him.” Another cock of the head. “Okay. I’m a little bit into him. But, I’m pretty sure it was a big mistake. No, it definitely was. A colossal screwup.”
Watch Her Vanish: An absolutely gripping mystery thriller (Rockwell and Decker Book 1) Page 29
