by Burton, Mary
“No. She was unconscious for most of it,” Sandra said.
Nevada was irritated with himself for not picking up on the signs Macy had seen. He was also frustrated with Bennett because she’d not confided in him.
Matt came out the front door with his backpack slung over his shoulder. As Sullivan stepped forward, Macy asked Nevada, “Do you mind if I drive them?”
Nevada studied her a moment and then handed his keys to her. “Sure.”
She smiled at the boy. “Matt, I’m Agent Crow. I’ll run you and your grandmother over to Mr. Greene’s.”
He tightened his grip on the strap of his pack and walked toward her. Nevada patted him on the back and told him it would all be fine. Sandra grabbed her purse, and she and Matt climbed into Nevada’s vehicle.
Macy slid behind the wheel, adjusted the seat and mirrors. “Nevada’s a tad taller than me,” she said, trying to put him at ease.
Matt hooked his seat belt. “You don’t look like FBI.”
“I’ve heard that a few times lately.” She started the engine and pulled away from the scene.
“Do you really think my mom is going to be okay?” Matt asked.
“As long as Nevada and I have a say in it, Matt.”
He tightened his grip on the armrest and stared ahead. His lips were tight and he blinked back tears. “She loves her job.”
“I know she does.” She handed him her phone so he could read out directions. “Which way to Mr. Greene’s?”
“Get on I-81 south,” Matt said.
“I can do that.”
The silence was broken only by more directions from the boy, which had them arriving at Mr. Greene’s house a half hour later. She parked, and he got out with his grandmother.
“My daughter is worried that she’s not good enough for the new work promotion,” Sandra said.
“She said that?” Macy asked.
“To me,” Sandra said.
“She’s very good, but I’ve worked these kinds of cases longer.” She looked at them both. “I’m not the bad guy here. I want to help.”
“We know that.” Sandra laid her hand on her grandson’s shoulder.
“Matt, think back to when your mom was in your room. What did she say?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Close your eyes. Tell me what you remember.”
“That’s weird,” he said.
“Humor me. You saw your mom downstairs and then got into bed. Did you fall asleep quickly?”
The boy closed his eyes. “Yeah. I was beat. But I could hear her pacing downstairs.”
“And then she came to your room?”
“Yeah.”
The boy closed his eyes again. “I was in bed asleep. The clock in the hallway was ticking.”
“Your mom must have said something to you? Or did she kiss you on the cheek maybe?”
He opened his eyes. “She said something about ancestry.”
“Ancestry?”
“She rubbed the inside of my cheek.”
“With a cotton swab?”
“Yeah. I guess that’s what it was.”
Macy exchanged glances with Sandra and then said, “Wait right here.” She opened the back of the vehicle, rummaged through Nevada’s very neat boxes, and found what she was looking for. She held up a buccal swab. “Did it look like this?”
“I guess.”
Macy pulled on gloves and unfastened the sealed top. “Did she ask you to open wide?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Can I take a swab?” Macy asked.
Sandra frowned. “Why?”
Both Bennett and Sandra were afraid that a monster had fathered the child they loved so now. “It could help find Brooke.”
Sandra nodded and Matt opened his mouth. Macy quickly ran the cotton tip along the inside of his cheek and secured it back in the vial.
“What’s that all about?” Matt asked.
“It’s something I need to check on for your mom.”
Mr. Greene stepped out on his porch, and Matt ran to him and hugged him close. The former sheriff whispered something in his ear, and the boy nodded and then buried his face in the man’s chest. Finally, the boy pulled back and wiped a tear away with his hand.
Sandra hugged Greene. “Thank you for taking us in.”
“Of course. I’ve got fresh bagels inside. Go on in, and I’ll be right behind you.”
Sandra glanced back at Macy. “Find Brooke.”
“I will.”
When the front door closed behind the Bennetts, all traces of softness left Greene’s face. “What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know. Is there something about Brooke Bennett that I need to know?”
“What do you mean?” Greene asked.
“She’s been tense through this entire investigation.”
“She’s a professional,” he countered.
“I didn’t say she wasn’t,” Macy said. “But she was very controlled and stoic when we spoke to the rape victims. It was almost as if she were trying to hold back on her own feelings. Her own experience. And then Tyler Wyatt makes a crack to Matt about his mother having her first sexual experience in the Wyatt barn.”
Greene’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She dropped her voice a notch and asked, “Who is Matt’s father?”
He raised his chin. “She never said and I never asked.”
“Brooke was seventeen when Matt was born.”
“She made a mistake as a teenager. She wasn’t the first, and she won’t be the last.”
“My point is that she got pregnant about the time of the rapes. But then you suspected that, didn’t you?”
Greene shook his head. “You’re stirring things up with wild accusations.”
“I have Matt’s DNA. It’ll take a quick test to find out if he’s our offender’s offspring.”
“A boy doesn’t need that kind of burden. You should leave well enough alone.”
“That’s what you told Bennett, wasn’t it? You feared she’d confirm Matt’s paternity.”
“This is insane. Matt’s a good boy. A good kid. A monster like that couldn’t possibly be his father.”
Macy let the comment pass. “If you have any suspects, you need to tell me now. I think this guy took Bennett.”
Greene frowned. “If Brooke knew, she wouldn’t hide it.”
“I think she honestly doesn’t know who did this to her. But she’s trying to figure it out now. I need more information if I’m going to find her.”
“I can’t help you.”
“Why didn’t you run the DNA rape kits fifteen years ago? And don’t tell me you didn’t understand DNA. You have a solid record and were a good cop. I’d bet a paycheck you thought you might be protecting someone close to you.”
He shoved out a breath and his shoulders slumped a fraction. “My wife was sick that summer. It was consuming me, and I let a lot fall through the cracks. My plan was always to go back and catch up. When Tobi vanished, I honestly didn’t connect her case to the others. And then Sandra Bennett told me Brooke was pregnant. She also told me about what happened to her daughter.”
“Did you talk to Bennett?”
“Sandra begged me not to.” He ran a hand over his head. “I caught up to her at school. She didn’t want to talk to me at first, but finally admitted she was attacked at the bonfire. She swore she only had one drink and she didn’t remember what happened.”
“What did she say?” Macy asked.
“When she woke, she was in the woods, no clothes, with scratches on her body.”
“And you didn’t connect what happened to Bennett to the other girls?”
“I thought one of the guys at the bonfire did it.”
“Did you talk to any of them? The Dream Team members were regulars at the bonfires.”
“Those boys brought life and pride to this town. I knew they could be rowdy, but I never figured any one of them would hurt a
young girl. And Brooke wanted to be at the bonfire, and she did drink.”
Macy shoved down her anger, doing her best to remain calm. The goal was to get information, not to argue about his methods right now. “Neither of those implies sexual consent.”
“I figured she’d agreed to go into the woods with a boy and it got a little rough.”
“You didn’t talk to any of them, did you?” And when he didn’t respond, she shifted tactics. “Did Cindy Shaw report a problem to you?”
He shook his head. “That girl had all kinds of problems. She was always getting into scraps. I must have picked her up a dozen times for all kinds of infractions.”
“Meaning she did come to you?”
“Yes, but she didn’t make sense. She kept talking about her brother and how he was leaving her behind. She said she could bury him and his friends, if she wanted to.”
“Bury how?” Macy asked.
“She never would tell me.”
“And by the time you did know about Bennett’s situation, Cindy was gone.”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell Bruce Shaw that Cindy came to see you?”
“Yeah, I told Bruce.” As he stared at her, his trademark confidence faltered.
“What do you think happened to Cindy?” Macy demanded.
“Bruce told me he drove her to the bus station. He told me Cindy wanted to leave town.”
“Cindy was last seen with Bruce?”
Greene shook his head. “Bruce didn’t hurt his sister.”
“How do you know that?” Macy asked.
“He’s a stand-up guy.”
“If you know something about Bruce, you have to tell me. Bennett’s life might depend on it.”
“I only talked to Bruce,” he said, more to himself.
Matt called out to Greene, but the old man held his ground. “Be right there, buddy. Just talking to the agent.”
When the front door closed, Macy asked, “Did any of those guys on the football team have a chipped tooth?” Macy asked.
“A what?”
“A chipped tooth.”
“A few did. Football is a rough sport, and boys aren’t always smart about their safety equipment.” Greene was silent for a long moment. “You think a member of that team committed the rapes and killed Cindy.”
“I do. And if you had put aside your love of that team, you might have realized it, too.”
He frowned and folded his arms over his chest. “This is a small town. If I started questioning someone about murder and rape, the rumors would have spread like wildfire. I could have ruined a few very bright careers.”
“You also could have saved the lives of other women.”
He dropped his gaze, shaking his head. “You don’t know that.”
“The hell I don’t.”
He flexed his fingers as he thought about the rough calluses of his hands wrapping around the smooth, taut skin of Brooke Bennett’s neck. Exhilarating did not begin to describe the rush.
Brooke was a challenge he could not resist. She was a fighter now just as she had been back in the day. He’d been on the verge of killing her all those years ago, but the blare of a honking horn at the bonfire had distracted him. Nervous he could be caught, he’d run.
He should run now. Better to leave town and find new hunting grounds. Moving around had kept him safe for over fifteen years. But if he left now, he would have to leave Brooke behind or kill her quickly. And he wasn’t interested in either option.
This was just getting fun.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Thursday, November 21, 4:00 p.m.
Macy and Nevada rolled up at the assisted living facility. She was anxious, like she often was when she was close to solving a case. She wanted to hit Shaw with dozens of questions, but knew she had to keep her cool.
Once inside, Nevada asked to see Dr. Shaw. The receptionist informed them he’d called in sick.
“I want to see his office,” Nevada said.
“He keeps it locked.”
“Someone has a key,” Nevada said.
The receptionist looked taken aback. “I can call maintenance.”
“Do it now,” he said.
“You can meet Oscar down the hall by the third door on the right.”
Macy and Nevada approached his office. Nevada checked the door and confirmed it was locked. Minutes later an older man appeared with a ring of keys and tried several before he opened the door.
“Thank you,” Nevada said. He switched on the light.
The office was furnished with a large desk, two chairs in front of it, and a small conference table.
Macy was drawn to the wall behind his desk and the framed diplomas hanging on the wall. “He did his undergraduate work in Maryland. Graduated medical school in Georgia, and he interned in Charleston, West Virginia. It all matches up with the murders Andy pulled from ViCAP.”
Nevada stared at a framed picture of the Dream Team. Bruce was front and center. Rafe Younger, Paul Decker, and Kevin Wyatt stood around him. “Cindy goes to Greene and tells him that she’s the one who took Tobi to the bonfire. As devoted as the girl had been to the team, it was taking her brother away from her. Greene all but confirmed that no matter what she’d done to ingratiate herself to him, the team and Kevin had their hooks in him.”
“She knew who’d lured Tobi away from the bonfire.”
“And Tobi’s disappearance genuinely bothered her, so she tells Greene what she knows. Greene, instead of investigating, goes to Cindy’s brother, who is the only stable force in her life.”
“Bruce convinces Greene that his sister is overreacting,” Macy said.
“And then Bruce kills his sister?” Nevada asks.
“Or he shares what she’s done with a teammate, like Kevin, and he kills her. They were thick as thieves.”
Nevada shifted his gaze to a black-and-white photo taken of an old farmhouse. “Judging by the terrain, the property is in the area, but I can’t quite pinpoint the location.” He snapped a picture of the image.
“DNA will identify Matt’s biological father and perhaps the killer. But none of this puts us closer to finding Bennett,” Macy said.
“Kevin still hasn’t given his DNA.”
She dialed his phone, and again her call went to voicemail. “And it looks like he’s now dodging me.”
Everyone left a digital footprint these days. Carry a cell, drive a car less than ten years old, or browse the Internet—someone was watching. This digital connection made it easier for guys like Nevada to find people. Give him a laptop and a few basic details, and he could find anyone.
Nevada sent Sullivan by Kevin’s house, and he discovered the residence was empty and locked up tight. Next Sullivan went to Bruce’s house, but there was no sign of him either, or of his car. Neither man’s cell phone was transmitting, and neither had used credit cards in days. Bruce’s car was finally tracked to a parking lot on the university campus, but a search of the vehicle revealed no sign of him. Kevin remained unaccounted for.
Rafe Younger wasn’t so clever about covering his tracks. He’d used his credit card to buy gas in Deep Run, beer in Staunton, and then to rent a room in a small motel an hour southwest of Lexington, Virginia.
Nevada and Macy parked in the motel lot where Rafe Younger was currently living. The motel was one story and consisted of fifteen rooms. Nevada got Rafe’s room number from the clerk, and he and Macy knocked on room 106. Each stood to the side with weapons drawn.
Inside the room a television switched off. “It’s Sheriff Nevada. Mr. Younger, you have five seconds to open the door.”
For a moment there was silence, and then footsteps moved toward the door and a chain scraped free of its lock. The door opened to Rafe Younger. A cigarette dangled from his long fingers.
“What is this all about?” Rafe asked. “Something happen to Debbie again? She’s not here.”
“She’s with her parents,” Nevada said. “I have questions about Bruce Shaw.�
��
“Bruce?” He took a long drag on his cigarette. “What about Bruce?”
Nevada and Macy swept the room to make sure Rafe was alone. Lying on the rumpled sheets of the unmade bed was a half bottle of Fireball, a pizza box, and an ashtray filled with cigarette butts.
Macy sat Rafe in a chair.
“What’s going on?” Rafe asked.
“I want to know about the night Tobi showed up at the bonfire. I want to know what happened.”
Rafe took another drag, still confused. “Nothing happened.”
“That’s not what Cindy Shaw said.”
“Cindy. Jesus. She was always messed up. Drank more than even me.”
“Earlier you said Cindy got Tobi drunk. Who took Tobi into the woods?”
“I don’t know about that. I told you I was drunk.”
“You know,” Nevada said, “you and your teammates were legendary when it came to sticking together. Your loyalty is going to earn you an accomplice to murder charge in about two minutes.”
“Murder? I didn’t kill anyone.”
“You’re protecting one of your boys.”
“Look, Tobi did get drunk, and maybe one of the guys popped her cherry, but no one hurt her.”
“Come on, you four boys didn’t have to chase girls because they came to you. You were rock stars. You also didn’t like any girl to tell you no. Which one of you four got carried away with Tobi?”
Nevada moved to within inches of Rafe, using his height to intimidate. Macy moved to the door and put the chain back on it.
Rafe shifted, dropping his gaze. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“Then answer the question,” Nevada said.
“We bent the rules,” Rafe said. “But I never was into hurting anybody.”
“What about Bruce Shaw?” Macy asked. “He preferred a type of girl, didn’t he? Young, with long dark hair. Remind you of anybody?”
“We all had types. Shit, I’ll do a blonde with big tits anytime. But that don’t mean I’m going to kill one.” He ground his spent cigarette into a nearby ashtray.
“Fair enough.” Nevada leaned in closer. “Let’s talk about Bruce.”
“Bruce was always there for the team. He was there for me. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend. Sometimes he blew off steam, but it was never anything extreme. Sex, booze, most of the usual stuff an eighteen-year-old would do.”
