To killing Shauna.
“She was drunk that night. Easiest one I ever did. She wouldn’t give it up to me like I wanted.”
Will stanchioned himself against the wall, just watching, as JB took over the interrogation. Not that Drake required much prompting. A nod here. A then what happened? there. He barreled full steam ahead toward the night of Emily’s disappearance. It didn’t surprise Will. Hearing himself talk was one of Drake’s favorite pastimes. But the whole thing didn’t sit right.
“Emily is alive. For now. I can take you to her. But I want the death penalty off the table. Again.”
Will suddenly came alive, pushing off the wall and stalking toward Devere. “That’s never gonna happen. Not on my watch. Not this time. If she’s alive, you need to tell us where she is.”
Devere sat back, an easy smile stretching across his face. “As far as I see it, Detective, I’m the one with all the power here. Doesn’t feel so good, does it? When you’re not in charge. You pigs don’t like that. Just look at your brother. He couldn’t handle it, put a bullet in that woman on his little power trip. You think you’re better than me? I know you. We want the exact same thing. Control.”
“Just to be clear, I don’t believe half the bullshit you’ve been spewing. You haven’t told us anything we don’t already know. You haven’t given up any crime partners, and we know you had help. You haven’t told us how you managed to get out of here, or pull any of this off, or why the hell you came back inside. So you can take your offer and shove it.”
“Alright. Then Emily dies. If that’s how you want it. No skin off my back. I suppose you’d like to be the one to tell Doctor Rockwell.”
JB motioned outside. “Can I have a word, partner?”
As soon as the door opened, Olivia sprang to her feet, and Drake shouted, “I’m sorry, Doc. But I didn’t kill her. She’s still alive!”
Will understood then why he’d had to leave his service weapon at the tower. Because he would’ve put a few permanent holes in Devere’s forehead.
“Oops. Guess I spilled the beans.”
Chapter Sixty-Six
Olivia had never felt more alone. Not even after they’d carted her dad off to prison and her mom got two jobs to support them. Not even after they’d moved to Fog Harbor in the middle of her fifth grade year, and she’d had to make new friends and pretend nobody knew her dad hadn’t really drowned on a fishing boat. Not even after her mom left her alone to take care of screaming baby Em, when she went out drinking. Not even then.
She’d nodded at Deck, when he’d told her to sit back down. To wait. But only because the weight of Drake’s words had made her legs sandbag heavy. Emily is alive.
“What’s going on?” she asked, when he finally left JB and stood before her. His eyes as impossibly tired as her own. “Is it true? About Em?”
“We don’t know yet. You said yourself he’d never leave his DNA behind. Devere is a con man. I don’t trust him. IGI raided his cell and found nothing. Just a bunch of books and his precious writing. We need to verify his story before we react. Certainly before we make any deals. I want you to go home. I promise I’ll come by as soon as we wrap up here.”
“Deals?”
Will sighed. “He wants the death penalty off the table, in exchange for—”
“For what? For Emily? Does he know where she is?” Olivia saw herself, as if from a great distance. A hysterical woman talking a mile a minute. But she couldn’t stop, couldn’t slow herself down. “What if she’s hurt? What if she’s dying? Deck, please.”
“Look, it’s not my decision to make. We have to talk to the chief and the DA. Even then, I’m just not sure. I know Drake. There’s something off about all this. Can’t you feel it? I mean, after what we saw…”
“Maybe he’s trying to do the right thing for once.” She felt herself grasping at straws. But Emily is alive. He’d said it.
“Are you kidding? Devere loaned his moral compass to Ted Bundy.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Now go home. There’s nothing else you can do here.”
Olivia crossed her arms, planted her feet firmly on the ground. “I’m not leaving. Not until I find out about Emily.”
Olivia let herself in to Deck’s garage and found his boxing gloves in a bin in the corner. Cy, cozy in his bed, watched as she put them on.
Deck had won the battle, having JB escort her out to the parking lot. But before, he’d grabbed her hand, slipped his key inside it. “Go hit something,” he’d told her.
She started off easy with a jab to the center of the bag. Then, harder and harder still, once she got her rhythm, until she felt her teeth judder. Until the world had narrowed to just her and that bag, and the fierce thud every time she hit it.
When her cell phone rang with a call from an unknown number, it startled her. But she tossed the gloves aside and answered it without thinking.
“It’s Dad. Don’t hang up.”
“How did you get this number? Are you calling from a cell phone? God, Dad. You never learn.”
“Liv, I had to. I’m just borrowing it from a friend. I needed to know you were okay. What are the cops saying about Emily?”
Olivia wanted him to suffer, but she couldn’t bear the splinter in his voice, threatening to crack right down the middle. “She may be alive. That guy, Drake Devere, was a patient of mine. He said he could take them to her.”
“So what are they waiting for?”
“It’s complicated, Dad. You know that. Now, stay off the cell phone. I’ll call your counselor if there’s any news.”
He whispered her name so low she strained to hear it. “Be careful. If the General got a guy like Morrie to shank some Oaktown punk, he can get anybody to do anything.”
Olivia drew in a breath, shocked by what her father knew. Confused about how he knew it. But the line went dead, and the sound of the heavy bag creaking on its chain gave her no answers.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
“What the hell is that?” Chief Flack pointed to the sheet of paper in JB’s hand. Will had swiped it, along with a pen, from the Ad Seg control booth. He didn’t want to look at it now though, not with his signature penned at the bottom alongside Drake’s. It meant nothing, of course. Just an empty gesture. But it disturbed him. The only kind of gesture he’d ever wanted to offer Devere involved his middle finger.
“Well, it’s not my Christmas list,” JB said, placing it on the desk. “Although I was hoping for a brand new Fenwick rod and reel, if you’re buying.”
Will narrowed his eyes at his partner and pushed the sheet toward District Attorney Collison. “It’s a list of Devere’s demands.”
Xavier Collison ran a hand through the last wisps of hair on his head and let out a low whistle. Like Drake had just offered him a deal on oceanfront property in Arizona. “Death penalty off the table. On camera with Heather Hoffman. Devere’s got balls, as the kids say. What’s your gut telling you on this, Detectives?”
Their guts did not agree, hence the long, awkward silence that ensued. Followed by the always-pleasant WTF stare from Chief Flack.
“I think it’s bogus. It’s too risky. Devere’s a psychopath. He’s setting us up for something. I just don’t know what.”
“So we do nothing?” JB asked. “You want to sit on this?”
“I want to do our jobs. We got the confession. If we can figure out who’s been helping him, we can leverage that to find Emily.”
“How long is that gonna take? She’ll be dead by then. We’ve got nothing to lose.”
“I hate to be the one to say it, JB, but she’s probably already dead.”
“Is that what you told Olivia?”
That hit Will like a sucker punch. Leave it to his partner to hit below the belt.
“Olivia Rockwell, the victim’s sister,” Chief Flack explained. “She’s in full support of proceeding with the deal for obvious reasons.”
“And Warden Blevins?”
“He’s on board,” JB said. “Provided he and
two COs of his choosing come with us.”
Collison sat back, pondering. “If we find this girl alive, we look damn good.” Meaning he’d be assured reelection, Will thought. That’s what it always came down to with these guys. Votes not lives. Perception not prudence.
“And if we don’t? If something goes wrong? If Devere escapes?”
“Just make damn sure he doesn’t. Got it?”
Will’s stomach knotted as the district attorney removed a pen from his front pocket. He crossed out the last of Drake’s requests for professional editing, cover design and marketing for his sequel to be paid for by Del Norte County. Apparently, the DA drew the line just short of absurdity.
The red ink bled through the cheap notebook paper.
“Tell him we’ll do the deal.”
Will found Olivia seated on the concrete next to Cy’s bed. He’d abandoned it in favor of her lap.
She moved to get up but Will stopped her. Sat down beside her instead.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Not really. But my jab is rock solid.”
It took effort, but he smiled at her. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you right away when we arrested Devere this morning. I thought it would be best to hold off until we knew more, and you were already so upset and Leah said to wait. It’s not an excuse. Just a reason.”
When he hung his head, she rested her hand on his knee. “It’s a good reason. I get it. I lost it in there today. I know he’s a sick man but I never saw this coming. It just didn’t fit. But, you were right. I guess this officially puts an end to my profiling career.”
“Devere said it was meant to be you he kidnapped. He thought we were getting close to solving it with the DNA and he planned to take you with him. Head up across the border and into Canada.”
“Wait—what?” She pushed Cy from her lap, stood up, and started pacing. “That makes no sense.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“So, why did he come back to the prison then? Why didn’t he just run?”
“He won’t tell us. I guess he’s saving that for the camera. Better ratings.”
“The camera?”
Will hoisted himself to his feet, needing to be on solid ground when he delivered the news. “It’s another one of his terms. The DA agreed to the deal with Drake.”
Olivia hid her face in her hands as he walked toward her.
“When?” she asked, her voice muffled through her fingers.
“Later today. JB’s already at the prison. That reporter, Hoffman, will meet us there. Then, we go.”
She peeked out at him, her eyes tearing. “I’m going too.”
“No, you’re not. No way in hell. It’s—”
Her hands dropped from her wet face. She put them on her hips, taking a wide stance. Her voice deepened. “It’s way too dangerous, Olivia.”
“Is that really what I sound like?”
“I need to be there, Deck. She’s my sister.”
“I’ll call you the minute we find her.” One at a time, he carefully took her hands in his, surprised when she didn’t protest. “I know you’ve got your hopes up about this, but…”
She tucked herself against his chest, and he couldn’t bear to say the rest, so he pressed his lips to her forehead instead.
Olivia let go first, shaking her head as she wiped her eyes. “I don’t cry, you know.”
“Noted.”
“No, really. I don’t. Ever. Except when I’m around you, apparently.”
“Doesn’t that go against your shrink code? I thought tears were good for you. They release stress hormones.”
She half-smiled. “Says the hard-nosed detective.”
“Hey, I want you to see something.” He slipped his phone from his pocket and swiped at the screen, showing her the photo he’d taken of the white fibers found on Emily’s tire. “What does this look like to you?”
She studied it, zooming in with her fingers. “Fur?”
“It’s not fur. It’s synthetic.”
“Maybe from a stuffed animal, then? Where did you find it?”
“On Emily’s tire. I think, whatever it was, she hit it. She ran it over.”
Olivia got quiet, and he thought she might cry again. He wondered what that meant. That she only cried with him. He couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a decidedly bad one.
“You think that’s why she stopped, don’t you? That was the ruse.”
He nodded. “I don’t cry either. For the record.”
“Noted,” she parroted, in that same deep voice. She held up his cell phone. “Hey, can I use this? My battery’s dead and I need to call Leah and let her know I’m okay.”
He watched her for a moment before she shooed him away with her hand.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Olivia pushed the old Buick to its limits, speeding down Pine Grove Road well in excess of the fifty-five miles per hour limit. The manila folder Deck had given her days ago rested beside her, its contents spewing onto the passenger seat. She’d ripped through it like a tornado as soon as she’d left his house.
The synthetic fur. The use of the garrote. The staged sexual assaults. She couldn’t believe it had taken her this long to see it hiding in plain sight. But she’d been wrong before and an innocent man had suffered, nearly died. This time she had to be sure.
As she neared the police station, Olivia floored it, the station wagon responding to the hairpin turn with the precision of a drunk elephant. She thrust the gearshift into park and checked the tracking app on her phone, relieved to see the flashing red dot hadn’t moved.
Olivia hurried toward the door, where Graham waited outside with the box, just as she’d asked. She forced herself to smile at him. And when he set the box down to wrap her in a hug, she feigned comfort. Even if it meant she had to endure the cloying smell of his body spray and fancy hair gel. The furtive rub of his hand on her lower back.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He kept her prisoner within his muscled forearms.
“I will be. Once Em’s safe at home.”
“You know I’m here for you, Liv. No matter what happens. We’ve had a bit of a rough patch, but my feelings haven’t changed. I’ve missed you.”
Olivia glanced at the box at his feet. She needed it desperately. “I’ve missed you too.”
“What do you want this for, anyway?” he asked, kicking it with his boot. “IGI told us there’s nothing of value. Just a bunch of books and drawings and whatever else that sicko had in his cell.”
She reached for his hand, imploring, and he took it, lacing his fingers in hers. “I want to see if I missed anything. I’ve been beating myself up about this. I should’ve known.”
“It’s not your fault, babe. If anybody’s to blame, I’d point the finger at that asshole, Decker.”
“Detective Decker? Why?”
“Because I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
She rolled her eyes, the word babe still clanging in her ears.
“Well, I don’t. He’s too busy flirting with you to do his goddamned job. I don’t trust that guy.”
“That’s exactly why I needed your help.”
He squeezed her hand. “If anyone asks…”
“I never saw you.” Olivia reached for the box. As she walked away, the weight of it in her hands felt like victory.
Olivia sped out of town, pulling off the road the first chance she got. The Buick protested, rumbling as she guided it down Gallows’ Lane, stopping the car in the shade of the redwood grove, where she wouldn’t be seen.
The yellow tape had fallen down in the rainstorm but Olivia knew Laura’s body had been propped against that tree when Deck had found her. She still had the crime scene photographs in the folder, tucked beneath the box marked EVIDENCE.
She worked the seal open with her fingers and took a breath. Cast the lid aside and started with the books. At least ten of them. She rifled through the pages, ripped off the covers, peeled back the library labels, and checked the
bindings, discarding them on the floorboard in a heap.
Frustrated, she stared at the pile, Drake’s own copy of Bird of Prey perched atop it.
Next, she flipped through Drake’s important papers, finding the medical chrono signed by the prison doctor, diagnosing him with dry eyes. For the last two months, he’d been listening to the library’s audiobooks.
As she mulled over that chrono, she knew her hunch was right. Retrieving Bird of Prey, she found the passage in the final chapter and read it in a whisper.
“‘Hawk lay on his bunk, reliving the kill. It was the sounds he liked best. Lacey’s piercing scream. The way she gasped for breath. His own lecherous grunts. He wished he could have recorded it.’”
A mediocre author writes from imagination, Drake had said. A great author writes from experience.
Olivia rifled through the box until she reached the bottom. Three plastic cassette tape cases, like the kind she’d decorated back in high school, with hearts and smiley faces: Olivia + Erik, Side A.
These tapes had also been labeled. PROPERTY OF CRESCENT BAY STATE PRISON LIBRARY. The first, titled Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky, appeared to be wound halfway through.
She slid it from the case and pushed it into the Buick’s tape player. Hoping the ancient thing still worked, she cranked the volume.
White noise like rain falling. Then, a hard click that startled her. Ominous as the cocking of a revolver.
Olivia swallowed, her mouth suddenly bone dry. The trees closed in, hiding their secrets beneath a canopy of shadow and dappled light. She took the Smith and Wesson from her purse and tucked it beside her. Locked the doors, rewound a bit, and tried again.
Small, ragged gasps that went on and on. She gripped the steering wheel, sucking in a breath herself.
A sudden, desperate gulp. Her hands began to tremble.
A wheeze, a gurgle. She jammed her finger against the STOP button, revulsion bubbling up in her throat. She touched her own neck, half expecting to feel the pressure against her windpipe. Then, she rewound the tape, farther this time, and listened once more in shock. To the panicked voice, the struggle, the ugly fight to stay alive. The last sounds Bonnie ever made.
Watch Her Vanish: An absolutely gripping mystery thriller (Rockwell and Decker Book 1) Page 32
