by Karen Rose
“Cowell hit Jackson in the arm,” Koenig said. “Sheila never fired her gun.”
Daniel remembered the haunting sight of Sheila sitting in the corner, both hands still wrapped around her gun. “She must have gotten scared or frozen up.”
“Jackson shot her twice,” Felicity said. “But from the angle, he wasn’t behind the counter. He was standing by the fallen deputy.”
“So Mansfield’s story doesn’t play,” Koenig said, “because he said he shot Jackson as soon as he came in the door because Jackson had just shot Cowell.”
“But Jackson wouldn’t have been behind the counter then.” Daniel rubbed his head. “So either Mansfield was wrong about the timing or he waited for Jackson to go back behind the counter to shoot him.”
Felicity nodded. “The bullet that killed Jackson came up at an angle. It was a straight in and out, so Mansfield was crouching when he fired.”
“And,” Koenig added, “the angle of the entry into Jackson says the bullet didn’t come from the door. Mansfield was crouched next to Cowell when he fired.”
“Why would he lie?” Talia asked. “Mansfield’s a deputy sheriff. He would have known the ballistics would tell the truth.”
“Because he expected it to be handled internally,” Daniel said heavily. “He expected Frank Loomis to be investigating, not us.”
Chase looked grim. “So we’re saying the Dutton sheriff is rotten?”
Daniel was still unwilling to accept that. “I don’t know. I do know nothing was done right on the Tremaine murder investigation. No photos of the scene, evidence stored improperly so it was ruined in the flood, no reports in the file. I think Fulmore might have been framed. At the very least, somebody’s hiding something.”
“And I wasn’t successful in getting the coroner’s report,” Felicity said. “Dr. Granville told me that his predecessor didn’t file required paperwork.”
“But it would be in the court records,” Talia said.
“It’s not,” Daniel told her. “I had Leigh pull the court transcripts and all the filed paperwork. She got it this morning. It’s a pretty empty file. None of that stuff is in there.”
“What about the prosecutor and the judge?” Talia pushed.
“Dead and a retired hermit, respectively,” Daniel answered.
“This doesn’t look good for Loomis,” Chase said. “I’m going to have to alert the state’s attorney’s office.”
Daniel sighed. “I know. But we still need to know what or who brought Jackson to Dutton last night. That person ties to the attempted hit-and-run yesterday.”
“Jackson’s one outgoing call on his cell was made right after Alex was almost hit,” Koenig said. “I think it was to tell whoever hired him that he’d missed.”
“We need to find out who that other number belongs to,” Chase said.
“I’ll work it tomorrow,” Koenig said, stifling a yawn. “Between being up all night watching Fallon’s house and working all day, I’m beat.” He poked Hatton, who’d nodded off. “Wake up, sweetheart.”
Hatton gave Koenig a dirty look. “I wasn’t asleep.”
“I already told Daniel what you found out about Craig Crighton,” Chase said. “If you don’t have any more, why don’t the two of you go home and get some sleep?”
“I’ll catch a nap,” Hatton said, “then I’m going back down to Peachtree and Pine to look for Crighton. I have a lead on one of his haunts. I’m going to dress for the occasion, see if I can’t blend in a little better than I did today.”
“I should go with you, then,” Koenig said. “Let me get a little sleep and I’ll go hobo, too. I’ll follow ten paces behind and watch your back.”
Chase smiled. “I’ll let the patrol in the neighborhood know you’re there and hobo.”
Felicity Berg also rose. “The bullet entry wounds on Jackson were all I had that was new, also. I’m headed out.”
“Thank you, Felicity,” Daniel said sincerely, and she gave him a small smile.
“You’re welcome. Don’t bring me any more bodies, Daniel.”
One side of his mouth lifted. “Yes, ma’am.”
When they were gone, Chase turned to Ed. “The hair.”
“Exact match to Alex’s DNA,” Ed said without blinking.
Daniel’s heart sank. Now he’d not only have to tell Alex about the hair they’d found on the bodies, he’d have to tell her that he’d taken her hair without permission.
“Crap,” Chase muttered.
“We should have told her before,” Daniel muttered back. “Now I’m up shit creek.”
“What did you do?” Talia asked.
“He took Alex’s hair for me to test without her knowing,” Ed said and Talia grimaced.
“Bad move, Danny. You are up shit creek.”
“You’ll think of something to tell her,” Chase said.
“You could try the truth,” Mary McCrady called from the end of the table. Chase gave her a disgruntled glare and she shrugged. “Just sayin’,” she said.
“Hell,” Daniel grumbled. “I should never listen to you, Chase.”
“But you always do. So now we know that whoever killed Claudia, Janet, and Gemma has access to hair from one of the twins. How?”
“An old hairbrush, maybe,” Talia said. “Who got Alicia’s things after she died?”
“That’s a good question,” Daniel said. “I’ll ask Alex. Talia, what do you have?”
“I talked to Carla Solomon and Rita Danner. Their stories agreed completely with Gretchen French’s. Everything was the same down to the whiskey bottle. When I got back, I helped Leigh go through the high school yearbooks and we identified the other nine victims. All went to three of the public schools between Dutton and Atlanta. Not one went to the private school the murdered women attended, so there’s no tie there.”
Daniel thought of his sister, Susannah, and wondered if there might not be just one victim who had attended Bryson Academy. I need to talk to Suze. Tonight.
“Are the other rape victims still living?” Daniel asked, and she nodded.
“Four have moved out of state, but the others are still in Georgia. I’ll need travel money to get out to the four out of state. So, Daniel, what happened up at the prison?”
Daniel filled them in on the details and Mary moved to join the group.
“So you think this Gary Fulmore might be innocent?” Mary asked.
“I don’t know, but things don’t add up. And Alex seems more panicked at the thought of Fulmore not being guilty than she was about her own sister’s assault.”
“It’s the only closure she got out of all this, Daniel,” Ed said sympathetically.
“Maybe.” Daniel looked at Mary. “All the time Fulmore was talking about that ring he’d left on Alicia’s finger, Alex was staring at her hands. She was almost in a trance.”
“Did Alex tell you her cousin and I talked about hypnosis?”
Daniel nodded. “Yeah. I think it’s a good idea, if it doesn’t make things worse.”
“All hypnosis will do is relax her enough so that her defenses don’t come up. I think we should try it as soon as possible.”
“How about tonight?” Daniel asked.
“Her cousin is broaching the subject as we speak.”
“All right. So after we’re done here, we drive to Bailey’s house. But first,” Daniel said, “let’s start lining up possible members of this rape posse. We suspect Wade, Rhett, and Simon. They graduated the same year. They would have been in the eleventh grade the spring Alicia was murdered.”
“But Gretchen’s rape happened almost a full year earlier,” Talia reminded him.
Daniel sighed. “The year Simon was expelled from Bryson Academy and sent to Jefferson High. It fits. He would have been sixteen himself then.”
Chase produced a stack of paper from one of the boxes on the table. “Leigh made copies of the yearbook pictures of every boy who went to Simon’s public high school. These”—he produced a thicker stack�
�“are the boys who went to the other high schools, including the fancy private school you went to, Daniel.” Chase lifted an amused brow. “You were voted most likely to become the president of the United States.”
Daniel huffed a tired laugh. “There are too many files to even know where to start.”
“Leigh’s been entering them in spreadsheets so we can sort them better and she’s running last knowns on them all. We can already cross out a few who’ve died. All the perps in Simon’s pictures were white boys, so I eliminated all minorities, too.”
Daniel stared at the stack, half dazed at the thought of the man-hours it would require to comb through. He blinked hard and put the stack out of his mind for the moment. “Chase, what about the rich girls?”
“I got a list of all the girls who graduated from Bryson Academy the same years as Claudia, Janet, and Gemma, plus a year on either side. Leigh and I called as many as we could reach, to tell them to be careful. Most of them had already heard the news and figured it out. Some of them can afford bodyguards and a few have hired one. We’ll try to get in touch with the others tomorrow.”
Mary leaned over to squeeze Daniel’s forearm. “Dr. Fallon and Hope should be done eating supper by now. Are you ready to see if Alex wants to try hypnosis tonight?”
He nodded grimly. “Yeah. Let’s get this done.”
Dutton, Wednesday, January 31, 9:00 p.m.
“Hope’s asleep in the car with Agent Shannon,” Meredith said, climbing up into the surveillance van. Meredith had refused to let Alex go through hypnosis alone, and Hope had become agitated when Agent Shannon tried to take her to the safe house alone, so they’d brought Hope along. “Luckily Hope fell asleep on the way. I don’t know how she’d react to seeing her house again. Have you ever done this before?”
Meredith sat in one of the folding chairs next to Daniel. Ed was manning the video controls and Mary McCrady stood on Bailey’s front porch with Alex, who looked eerily calm. Meredith, in contrast, was a bundle of nerves.
“Relax, Meredith,” Daniel said. “She’ll be fine.”
“I know. I just wish I could be in there with her.” She clenched her hands in her lap. “I’m supposed to be the calm one, Daniel. I have done this before.”
Procedure was that only the therapist and the subject were to be present during forensic hypnosis. It was the way it was done. But Daniel understood how Meredith felt. “I wanted to be with her, too. We’ll both do the next best thing and stay here.”
With his characteristic expression of sympathy, Ed twisted the monitor so that Meredith had a better view. “Can you see?”
She nodded. “I feel like a voyeur,” she said glumly.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Daniel muttered.
After a beat of shocked silence, she snickered. “Thank you, Daniel. I needed that.”
Ed cleared his throat. “Looks like they’re ready to go.”
Mary and Alex appeared on the monitor, walking into the living room. For more than a minute Alex stood rigid and trembling and Daniel had to force himself to stay where he sat. Mary’s voice came through the speaker, low and soothing, and eventually Alex moved to the leather reclining chair Mary had brought into the room an hour before.
“She might need to bring Alex in and out of it a few times,” Meredith murmured. “If she’s going to get her under enough to move around.”
In the living room, Alex was sitting in the chair, her feet up and her eyes closed. But she was still rigid and Daniel’s chest tightened. She was scared. But he sat and watched as Mary, in a soothing voice, told Alex to find a peaceful place and to go there.
“What if I can’t?” Alex asked, panicked. “What if I can’t find a peaceful place?”
“Then think of a place you felt safe,” Mary said. “Happy.”
Alex nodded and sighed and Daniel wondered where she’d finally gone.
Mary continued her slow, soothing routine, taking Alex deeper into a relaxing state.
“So, do you use hypnosis often with your homicide cases?” Meredith asked.
Daniel knew she needed to talk and the distraction would be a good thing for them both. “From time to time, mainly to generate leads. I’ve never gone with a case solely on a retrieved memory, though. Not unless I could independently verify it. Memories are fragile things, so easily manipulated.”
“That’s wise,” Meredith returned. Both of them had their eyes on the screen where Mary had progressed to determining how deeply under Alex had gone. Alex was watching as her arm lifted and stayed lifted. “Alex was already a believer in hypnosis from her work. That’s making Mary’s job easier.”
“Daniel.” Ed was pointing to the monitor. “I think Mary’s got her under.”
Alex had both arms in the air and was looking from arm to arm with detached curiosity. Mary told her to lower them and she obeyed.
“Now let’s walk to the stairs,” Mary said, taking Alex by the hand. “I want you to think back, go back to the day Alicia died.”
“The next day,” Alex said quietly. “It’s the next day.”
“All right,” Mary said. “It’s the next day. So tell me what you see, Alex.”
Alex made it to the fourth stair and stopped, her hand gripping the banister so hard Daniel could see her white knuckles on the video.
“That’s how far she went yesterday,” he murmured. “I thought she’d have a heart attack, her pulse went so high.”
“Alex,” Mary said with quiet authority. “Keep going.”
“No.” Panic had edged into Alex’s voice. “I can’t. I can’t.”
“All right. So tell me what you see.”
“Nothing. It’s dark.”
“Where are you?”
“Here. Right here.”
“Were you coming up? Or down?”
“Down. Oh, God.” Alex’s breath began to hitch rapidly and Mary gently pressed her down until she sat on the stair. Mary then brought her out, then took her under again.
When Alex returned to a hypnotic state, Mary began again. “Where are you?”
“Here. That stair creaks.”
“All right. Is it still dark?”
“Yes. I haven’t turned on the hall light.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t want them to see me.”
“Who, Alex?”
“My mother. And Craig. They’re downstairs. I heard them down- stairs.”
“Doing what?”
“Fighting. Yelling.” She closed her eyes. “Screaming.”
“What are they screaming?”
“I hate you. I hate you,” Alex said, her voice even and level, disturbingly so.
“I wish you were dead,” Daniel murmured just as Alex said the same words in that even monotone. “She thought her mother was saying it to her.”
“But she said it to Craig,” Meredith said quietly.
“Who’s saying this?” Mary asked.
“My mother. My mother.” Tears were running down her face, but her expression stayed calm. Doll-like. A shiver of apprehension raced down Daniel’s back.
“What is Craig saying?” Mary asked.
“She was asking for it with her short shorts and halter tops. Wade gave her what she wanted.”
“And your mother? What’s she saying now?”
Alex stood abruptly and Mary stood with her. “Your bastard son killed my baby. You let him. You didn’t stop him.” Her breath quickened and her voice hardened. “Wade did not kill her.” She walked down a step and Mary held out her hands in case she stumbled. “You took her. You took her and dumped her in that ditch. Did you think I wouldn’t see the blanket, that I wouldn’t know?”
She stopped and Daniel realized he was holding his breath. He made himself exhale and draw another breath. Beside him, Meredith was trembling.
“What are they saying?” Mary asked.
Alex shook her head. “Nothing. She broke the glass.”
“What glass?”
“I don’t
know. I can’t see.”
“Then come to where you can see.”
Alex came down the remaining stairs and walked to the doorway to the living room.
“Can you see now?”
Alex nodded. “There’s glass on the floor. I’m standing in it. It hurts my feet.”
“Do you cry?”
“No. I don’t want him to hear me.”
“What glass did your mother break, Alex?”
“From his gun cabinet. She has his gun. She’s pointing it at him and screaming.”
“Oh, God,” Daniel murmured. Meredith clutched his hand, hard.
“What is she screaming, Alex?”
“You killed her and wrapped her in Tom’s blanket and dumped her, like garbage.”
“Who is Tom?” Daniel hissed.
“Alex’s father,” Meredith whispered, horrified. “He died when she was five.”
Alex had gone still, her hand on the door. “She has his gun, but he wants it back.”
“What is he doing?” Mary asked, her voice very calm.
“He’s grabbing her wrists but she’s fighting.” New tears began to flow down Alex’s cheeks. “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you like you killed my baby.” Her head wagged from side to side. “I didn’t kill her. Wade didn’t kill her. You can’t tell. I won’t let you tell.” She drew a deep breath.
“Alex?” Mary asked. “What’s happening?”
“She saw you. She told me she saw you.”
“Who saw, Alex?”
“Me. She says, ‘Alex saw you with the blanket.’ ” Then she flinched. “No, no, no.”
“What happened?” Mary asked, but Daniel already knew.
“He turned the gun under her chin. He shot her. Oh, Mama.” Alex leaned her temple against the door, wrapped her arms around her own body, and rocked. “Mama.”
Meredith shuddered out a sob, tears running down her face. Daniel squeezed her hand tighter, his throat too tight to breathe.
Alex stopped rocking, again going statue still.
“Alex.” Mary returned to her quietly authoritative tone. “What do you see?”
“He sees me.” Panic sharpened her voice. “I’m running. I’m running.”
