by Blake Pierce
Riley stifled a sigh.
He still doesn’t get it, she thought.
Crane just couldn’t be persuaded that these new killings were a continuation of what had happened to the Bonnetts.
Still, she understood how he felt about what the reporters were saying. She hated it when killers acquired public nicknames. It always stirred up extra anxiety and fear. It also tended to please the killer, who would start to think of himself as some sort of living legend. Delusions of glory would only make him more eager for the next kill.
Not what we need right now, she thought.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Dominic’s voice …
“Hey, Sam! Get back over here!”
Dominic was calling out to his partner, who had gone over to the crowd behind the yellow tape. She was talking to someone—Brandon Hitt, the newspaper boy’s older brother.
At the sound of Dominic’s voice, Sam came back over to the group standing around the body.
Dominic looked and sounded angry now.
“What do you think you were you doing over there, Sam?” he asked.
“Just talking to Brandon,” Sam said with a shrug. “He waved at me to come over, so I did. He just wanted to ask about the case.”
“Like hell,” Dominic said. “He was flirting with you.”
Sam let out a scoffing sound.
“He was not,” she said.
“He was too,” Dominic said. “I could see that from all the way over here.”
Sam shrugged and said, “So what if he was?”
Riley didn’t much care whether the conversation was flirtatious or not. It worried her for other reasons.
She said, “Sam, it’s never a good idea to talk to civilians at a crime scene if you can possibly help it.”
Sam’s eyes widened guiltily.
“Oh, of course it’s not,” she said. “I’m sorry, I was acting like a dumb rookie. But I didn’t tell him anything that he didn’t already know—just that there was a new victim.”
Riley breathed a little easier. It didn’t sound as though the young cop had said anything inappropriate.
But Dominic continued snapping at Sam about her “flirtation,” and she kept replying defensively.
For the first time Riley realized …
He’s in love with her.
Riley was also sure that Dominic’s crush was unrequited.
She felt a little foolish for not picking up on that when she’d first met the pair. All she’d really noticed was that Sam was the smarter partner of the two, and that they seemed to make a good team.
But were they really?
Bickering at a murder scene wasn’t a good sign.
Riley was about to tell them both to knock it off when Sam’s phone rang and she skulked away to take the call, leaving Dominic to fume silently by himself.
I’ll talk to them about this later, she thought.
The last thing this investigation needed was this kind of emotional distraction.
Riley told the coroner to take the body away and watched as his crew lifted the woman onto a gurney. She saw that the coroner was right—the corpse was stiff with rigor mortis. It was definitely time to get it into the morgue.
Then Riley turned toward Bill and Jenn, getting ready to talk to them about how they should proceed.
But before she could say anything, Sam came charging back toward the group, the phone shaking in her hand. Riley was shocked to see that she was in tears.
“Something’s happened!” Sam said. “It’s my dad.”
Sam gulped down a sob, then continued …
“That was Nurse Spahn at Hume Place. She said Dad has disappeared again. They have no idea where he is.”
Riley stifled a groan of annoyance.
She almost snapped at Sam …
“We don’t have time for this. You can worry about it later.”
But as she looked into Sam’s eyes, she realized that her panic was deep and real.
She said, “We’ll handle things for a while. You and Dominic go ahead and look for your dad.”
Sam let out a sob of gratitude. As Sam and Dominic headed away for their police car, Riley thought about Sam’s father. She remembered how struck she’d been away how vigorous, athletic, and alert Art Kuehling had seemed. Until they’d talked him for a little while, she’d found it hard to believe that he was slipping slowly into dementia.
Riley almost gasped as she thought …
And now he’s out!
It suddenly seemed all too possible that Art Kuehling was the killer they were looking for.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Sam’s hands were sweating on the steering wheel as she drove through the streets of Rushville, hoping to catch sight of her father somewhere. She’d been frantic ever since Nurse Spahn had called to tell her that he had gone missing from Hume Place again.
Sitting beside her in the passenger seat, Dominic said …
“Sam, we’re driving a long way from the rest home. Why do you think he’d have wandered so far?”
Sam growled, “He’s still got a car, Dominic. You know that.”
And that’s going to change as soon I get him back to the home, she thought.
She’d gotten angry at Nurse Spahn on the phone, and she wished she hadn’t.
And yet …
Why didn’t anyone tell me sooner?
Following proper protocol this time, her father had checked out of the facility earlier that night. He’d said that he’d be back by midnight. Although Nurse Spahn was his main caregiver there, it wasn’t her shift. When Sam’s dad didn’t show up at midnight, the night nurse hadn’t bothered to worry about his absence for an hour or so. It hadn’t been until well after midnight before the facility had sent some employees out looking for him. Finally they’d called Nurse Spahn, and she had called Sam.
Sam reminded herself that none of this was Nurse Spahn’s fault. But others at Hume Place could have handled things a whole lot better. Sam was still angry as well as panic-stricken.
Dominic said, “Sam, you’re a nervous wreck. Maybe I should drive.”
Sam thought for a moment …
Maybe he’s right.
She’d have been alarmed by her father’s disappearance in any case. But the situation seemed especially terrifying on a night when a serial killer had taken yet another victim.
Should she give Dominic the wheel?
She thought for a moment, then made a decision.
“I’ll keep driving,” she replied.
Sam didn’t want to have to think about where they should go looking for Dad and then have to keep telling Dominic. She wanted to follow wherever her own impulses took her. They had already checked out the logical places, and now she would have to depend on her intuitions to find him.
They’d begun by driving by her childhood home. It had been sold a long time ago, and a different family now lived there. The house had been dark, and Sam hadn’t been able to bring herself to wake up its inhabitants to ask if an addled old man had been at their door sometime that night.
They also drove by some of her father’s old familiar haunts—places like Donnelly’s Bar and Rog’s Pool Hall. Of course those establishments were closed at these wee hours of the morning. Even so, Sam couldn’t help hoping that, in his mental confusion, her father might turn up outside one of those places.
As she turned onto the waterfront drive, she said to Dominic …
“Let’s keep our eyes on the beach. He used to like to walk there after dark.”
She heard Dominic let out a growl of disapproval.
“Sam, you’re letting your imagination run away with you. He’s not in any real danger. Sure, he’s been slipping out on his own lately, but he always comes back. He’ll come back this time too.”
Sam felt a sob rise in her throat.
Don’t cry, she told herself.
After all, Dominic was surely right. As awful as tonight’s murder was, there was surely no
danger to the public here in Rushville, at least for the moment. It seemed extremely unlikely that the killer was still stalking the streets right now, looking for another victim so soon. That didn’t seem to be his MO.
Still, she couldn’t shake off her panic.
It was a clear, moonlit night, and she and Dominic had a good view of the beach from the car. By the time they’d driven the whole length of the drive, they hadn’t seen any sign of her father or anybody else walking by the water.
Sam cursed silently to herself. She should have insisted that he get rid of that car as soon as he’d shown telltale signs of mentally slipping. But until very recently, he’d seemed self-sufficient and alert, despite those occasional lapses.
Desperate scenarios were welling up in her mind.
What if he drove out of town?
He might wind up many miles away and have no idea where he was.
And what if he has a car accident?
As she racked her brain trying to think of where to look next, a name popped into her head …
Tony Appleton.
Tony was another retired cop. Although her dad hadn’t mentioned seeing Tony lately, they’d been good buddies when Art was still on the force.
I’ll bet that’s where Dad is, Sam realized.
At least, it seemed like a strong possibility, and she knew exactly where Tony Appleton lived.
Sam suddenly turned the car so sharply that Dominic let out a small yelp of alarm. She headed back into town and drove straight to the other retired cop’s house. Sure enough, there was her father’s car, parked in the driveway. The lights were on in the well-kept little home.
Dominic said, “Looks like we’ve found him.”
We sure have, Sam thought, not sure whether she felt relieved or angry.
She parked the car, took out her cell phone, and typed a quick text message to Agent Paige …
Dominic and I found Dad. We’ll take him back to Hume Place. Then we can come back to work. Call and tell us where we should meet you. Sorry for running off.
She and Dominic got out of the car and walked up to the house. Sam knocked on the front door, and after a few moments she heard someone stirring inside. Then Tony opened the door . His wrinkled face lit up when he saw who had arrived.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” he said. “Hey, Art—look who showed up for our festivities!”
Tony escorted Sam and Dominic inside. She saw her father’s back as he sat hunched over a worktable. He turned his head and saw his daughter.
“Hey, Sam!” Art said with a wide grin. “Look what Tony and I’ve been doing!”
He held up a fluffy and colorful little object in his hand.
Sam quickly realized …
They’ve been making fishing flies.
Tony sat back down at the table with Sam’s dad, sipping on a bottle of beer. A half-empty beer bottle was within her dad’s reach. Sam looked around and saw only two other empty bottles in the whole room.
At least they’re not drunk, she thought.
In a shaky voice she asked, “Dad, you’ve had me scared half to death. How long have you been here?”
Her dad hesitated for a few moments. He wrinkled his brow and stammered, “I—I’m not quite sure.”
Tony shrugged and said, “Since around eleven. Is there some kind of problem?”
Sam groaned aloud at Tony’s question …
Where do I even begin?
*
The three FBI agents were pulling into the parking lot at Hume Place when Riley took out her phone and saw Sam’s text message. She breathed a sigh of relief that Sam had found her father.
At least we know where he is. And she’s bringing him here.
Riley briefly considered calling Sam back right away, but thought better of it. It seemed best for Sam not to know where Riley and her colleagues were and what they were doing—at least not yet.
They had all stayed at the crime scene until the local cops had things fully under control. Even while they’d been wrapping things up there, Riley had kept worrying about the news of Art Kuehling’s disappearance.
How long had he been missing tonight?
Was he gone at the time when Vanessa Pinker had been killed?
And what about when Gareth Ogden was murdered?
Did she have to consider Sam’s father a suspect in the hammer murders?
Riley hadn’t sensed anything hostile about the man. But Sam had said that he’d spent many years brooding about the Bonnett killings. Now that his mind was starting to go, could his obsession have taken a darker turn? Was he dementedly acting out the very violence that had haunted him all these years?
And if Art Kuehling had killed both of the recent victims, might he not even know it, at least not whenever he was safely inside the assisted living facility?
All of Riley’s ruminations also led to the question of whether he’d been involved in that horrible family extermination ten years ago. Had he murdered the Bonnett family, or if not, might he have known all this time who had?
Riley, Jenn, and Bill got out of the car and walked into Hume Place. At the front desk, Riley asked to talk to someone about Art Kuehling. The receptionist paged Nurse Spahn, who arrived quickly.
Nurse Spahn looked startled to see the FBI agents.
“Hello again,” she said. “What brings you here at this hour? Does this have something to do with Mr. Kuehling? Does anybody know where he is?”
Riley said, “Yes, I just got a text message from his daughter. She says she’s found him.”
Nurse Spahn sighed deeply and said, “Thank God!”
Then Riley said, “I need for you to tell me when he left the facility tonight.”
Nurse Spann squinted and said, “I’m told that he checked himself out at eight o’clock. Why?”
This wasn’t what Riley wanted to hear …
Vanessa Pinker was killed around nine fifteen.
Then Riley mentioned the date of Gareth Ogden’s murder.
She asked the nurse, “Could you find out if he was missing that night—and if so, during what hours?”
“I think so,” Nurse Spahn said.
She walked over to a nearby desk sat down at a computer and punched a few keys.
Then the nurse said, “Yes, as a matter of fact, he did slip out that night. Between seven and eleven.”
Riley’s heart sank at the realization …
We now have a suspect.
And that suspect was Sam’s father.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Sam felt overwhelmed and confused by her own emotions as she sat down with her father and Tony at the table where they’d been working. Dominic plopped into a nearby chair, and she was grateful that her partner didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave.
On the one hand, Sam was deeply relieved to have found Dad safe and sound and in the company of an old friend like Tony. And of course, she was also angry that he’d caused her so much panic.
But she felt something else that was deep, strong, and troubling …
What is this feeling?
She quickly realized—it was sadness, pure and simple.
The fishing fly Dad had been working on when they came in was still gripped in the heavy black vise fastened to the edge of the table. A bunch of finished flies lay on the table. She’d watched Dad make countless hand-tied flies like these in his own workshop at home while she’d been growing up, and once again she admired his skill and craftsmanship.
Seeing him at work at this again brought back a lot of memories. She and her dad would gather up his latest flies in their tackle boxes, and he’d take her out fishing to the Gulf shore, the nearby river, and some of Mississippi’s lovely lakes. Their favorite fishing was for large white trout right here in the area.
Right now he was happily showing her the batch of flies he’d been making since he’d arrived at Tony’s house. He proudly waved one with a furry body and a yarn tail and clipped bits of feather. It was colored brown, olive, yellow, and b
lack.
“Looky here, Punkin,” he said to his daughter. “Do you remember me teaching you to make Woolly Worms like this when you were little?”
Sam nodded and almost said …
“I could never make them like you did.”
But she felt as though she might cry if she said it aloud.
It had been a long time since she’d seen her father look so happy. As Dad continued showing her the completed flies, Sam glanced over at Dominic, asking him with a wordless, pleading expression …
What should I say?
What should I do?
Dominic replied with a sad, silent shrug.
Meanwhile, her dad kept right on chattering about the fishing flies. Sam gently interrupted …
“Dad, you can’t do this anymore. I mean—you can’t just go running off like this. You’ve …”
She paused, wondering exactly what she was trying to stay.
Then she remembered something Nurse Spahn had told her yesterday …
“If he goes out like that again—even once—I’m afraid we’ll have to limit his activities …”
Sam gulped hard as she thought …
He blew his last chance.
She said slowly, “Dad, you’ve got to stay put. Right there in Hume Place. From now on.”
Her father gave her an odd sort of smile.
Sitting across the table, Tony said, “Don’t you think he knows that, kid? That’s why he came over here. Just one last night hanging out with an old pal.”
Her father added, “Punkin, you and I both talked to Nurse Spahn yesterday, so let’s not mince words here. I’m losing what’s left of my mind. I’m going to need a lot of extra care from here on in. They’re going to shut me up with all the other folks who can’t take care of themselves anymore, and before I know it I’ll be wearing a diaper and they’ll spoon feed me baby food. And I’m never getting out again. Not without a caretaker of some kind.”
He gestured to the flies he’d been making and said …
“And I’ll never get to do this again.”
As Sam looked at all the beautiful, feathery lures gathered together on the table, she was seized by a heartbreaking realization. Her father was also never likely to get to go fishing with the flies he’d been making tonight.
