by Raen Smith
I felt it then, the realization that the man standing before me had killed Fred Sullivan, but he was wrong about how I felt about it. I didn’t give a shit about the fact that he’d murdered Fred Sullivan.
“Where is she?” I shoved the letter back into his chest.
“Where’s who?” he asked, stumbling backward with the thrust of my hand.
“Don’t act like you don’t know, you bastard,” I hissed before I held up my hands. “I’m here. Take me if you want me.” This was it. I knew it, I could feel it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who is she?” he asked again as he folded the paper carefully and put it back in his pocket. “I don’t know who you think I am, but - ”
And then it came. I couldn’t stop it. I reached inside my jacket, pulled out the gun, and pressed the barrel into his chest.
“Whoa, what the hell,” he said. He put his hands up and stepped backward. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jeremy lunge toward me from my side. I flung my arm out and attempted to block him, but it gave the man enough time to make his move. He turned and sprinted through the crowd and out the back of the living room as Jeremy pulled down on my arm. I spun toward him and aimed the barrel at his forehead.
“Evie, Jesus Christ,” Jeremy said with his hands up. His eyes were wide in panic and his hands shook in the air. “I was only trying to help. I didn’t think that having you here was going to be a problem.”
I wasn’t the problem. The man in the fedora making his way out the back of the house was the problem, and I didn’t even know his name. The sounds in the room silenced, the murmurs stopping dead as everyone turned toward me. I began weaving through the gawkers with my gun pulled tight to my chest as I chased after him. At once, the front door flew open with a bang and a barrage of officers in black flew past me. A hand pulled my arm down, leading the gun to the floor. I didn’t need to look at him to know that Sanchez stood beside me.
“Nobody move,” he barked. “The place is surrounded. You’re all under arrest.”
Sanchez’s voice scattered them like a gunshot. Half of the men stood with their hands up while a few dropped their cups and turned to run. But another five officers moved in from the back and surrounded the group of men on all sides. They huddled toward the middle like a herd of cattle; it was nothing except a sea of black in the white living room.
“The back,” I yelled. “He went out the back.”
“We got him.” An officer struggled with the man in glasses as he forced him back into the living room with his hands behind his back. I dodged through the group to face the man in glasses.
“What the hell is going on?” Jeremy asked as handcuffs surrounded his own hands. “Evie, did you do this?”
I didn’t respond, and instead focused on the man in the glasses. My silence was answer enough for Jeremy and the rest of the HP Chapter.
“Evie,” Jeremy choked as the sound of metal clanked through the living room while the officers handcuffed the remaining individuals. “Guys, I’m sorry. I didn’t - ”
“You have the right to remain silent, anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law…” Sanchez began. I droned out the sound of the repeated phrases throughout the room. I had already heard it yesterday from Sanchez; I didn’t need to hear it again. Not fifteen times over.
I kept my eyes on the man in the glasses, whose face had drained to a translucent white.
“You disappoint me, Evie Parker. This is how your father must have felt. It’s a shame really, feeling this way when there is so much else left to do,” he said as his arms were pulled behind his back.
“You sick bastard. You don’t know me or the man that I couldn’t call a father,” I accused, slamming my finger into his chest. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeated again. I moved into him. My face was only inches away from him, and I could feel his hot breath against my cheek.
“Get her off me. This crazy bitch keeps asking me about some lady. I don’t know what the hell she is babbling about.” He tried to scramble back, but I stayed with him. I would find out where Sister Josephine was one way or the other. I wasn’t going to let him out of my reach. I grabbed the collar of his shirt, wringing the cheap cotton hard between my fingers.
“Tell me,” I said as I put the barrel of my gun to his forehead. His eyes widened in fear and his mouth opened, but nothing came out. Instead, he sputtered as I reached inside his pocket and pulled out the list.
“Evie,” Sanchez interrupted, moving away from one of the members to wrap his arms around me.
“He knows where she is. He took her,” I yelled as the list dangled down near my thigh while Sanchez restrained me. I jerked my body, however, his arms wrapped tighter, surprisingly hard, as his Old Spice wafted through my nostrils. I felt the gun being pried from my hand by another officer on the other side of me.
“Evie,” he warned. His voice was low and calm. “Don’t do this.”
I counted to five, relaxing my body and closing my eyes before I said, “I’m fine. Please take your hands off me.”
“Can I trust you?” Sanchez asked in my ear. I was fine, yet I wouldn’t be for long if Sanchez kept this trust crap up.
“I said, please.” I stared at the man in the glasses, but the fedora disappeared into the sea of black. The sound of handcuffs had slowed and was mostly coming to a stop as the members of the HP Chapter were lined up against the wall and seated on the chairs and couch. Their stares pierced through me as Sanchez restrained me, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was finding Sister Josephine.
“He killed Fred Sullivan,” I said as Sanchez’s hold began to loosen. I calmed my body until I was standing still. I flipped up the list in front of Sanchez’s face. “He had the list.”
“We’ll interrogate him,” Sanchez said. Just then, the lights flashed on to illuminate the whole room of officers and arrested HP Chapter members. I squinted and stared at the huddled mess the man in glasses had become on one of the wing-backed chairs. “We’ll find out how he got the list and nail that bastard for the murder of Fred Sullivan. But he says he doesn’t know anything about Sister Josephine…”
“He has to know,” I said, still staring at the man. Sanchez followed my gaze to the man before he looked at me. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he studied me.
“If he does, we’ll find out,” he replied as he put his hands on his holster. “He already looks like he’s breaking. Maybe a case of a crazed fan gone wrong.”
“We may not have much time. We don’t know if Sister Josephine is in danger or hurt. I can start if you want - ” I took a step toward the man before I felt a pull on my arm.
“We have it from here, Evie,” Sanchez said as he walked past me and into the middle of the living room. He gave a loud whistle, prompting the silence and attention of the entire room.
“Members of the HP Chapter, we will begin brief questioning here before we determine whether or not to escort you to the Appleton Police Station for further questioning. We are investigating a serious crime and will need your full cooperation. It’s going to be a long night, gentlemen,” Sanchez said before directing orders to his officers. “Agent Allen and Officer Hobart will be conducting the questioning in the room located off the kitchen. Please bring individuals one at a time.”
Agent Allen appeared in his khakis and button down shirt with a gun knocking at his hip, and pulled the man in glasses off the chair. He gave Sanchez a nod and pointed toward the back of the house.
“Where are you bringing him?” I asked, catching up with Sanchez as he weaved his way through the black.
“In the back. We’ve got this, Evie. I’m going to nail this bastard and find out where Sister Josephine is. You have to trust me,” Sanchez said as we walked. “And you’re not coming in, whether you like it or not. I will keep you informed once we know more. In the meantime, settle in and see if anything comes up in conversation out here.”
I
stopped and my shoulders fell in rejection as I turned back toward the other fourteen HP members with their hands behind their backs. I wasn’t going to argue with Sanchez, but I definitely didn’t want to be hanging around a group of men that had nothing other than scathing hatred for me. I’d quickly turned from celebrity to scum of the earth. As I walked back through the living room, I caught a few bitches thrown my way. I let it bounce off me and stomped on it. These assholes weren’t going to stop me.
I stormed through the front door and into the darkness of the night, pacing on the sweeping front porch. The lights glowed behind me, casting hazy shadows all around me. My boots thudded against the planks just as I remembered from that day. I was here, in this same exact spot, just moments before I’d killed Holston.
When I buried that bullet, I thought that was it. I thought I wouldn’t have to deal with the demons he had created anymore, yet here I was, trying to rectify everything he had done wrong. I was still a pawn in his sick and twisted legacy, and despite this, I knew I would play along until I found Sister Josephine.
I inhaled and felt the pull of the microphone inside my shirt before I reached down the front of my shirt, pulled it out, and placed it on the railing. I cursed myself for losing my temper with the man in the glasses. I was close. I could smell it. Now I was here, outside with no gun, no suspect and no real leads on the location of Sister Josephine. I just hoped that Agent Allen and Sanchez didn’t screw it up.
Damn, I wanted to be in that interrogation room.
I leaned forward against the railing and looked out into the barrenness of the country landscape. It would be peaceful if it wasn’t for the dozen police cars lined up on the road ahead of me. I listened to the chattering of frogs and crickets all around me while I thought of Ryan and the only place that I could remotely have called home. It was long gone now.
I stayed outside for what felt like an eternity, pacing back and forth until Officer Hobart appeared on the porch. I had just pulled out my phone to call Delaney to let her know I was okay. Instead, I shoved it back down into my pocket after checking the time. According to my phone, I had only been outside for ten minutes.
“So did he confess?” I asked.
“Kevin Carpenter confessed to killing Fred Sullivan,” Officer Hobart said as he leaned against the railing. “He’s a bumbling fool in there. I think he got in over his head.”
“You said Kevin Carpenter?” I asked.
“You recognize the name at all?”
“He’s the guy that bought Holston Parker’s house in Appleton, but I don’t know him,” I said. The guy was a crazy fanatic. He had bought Holston’s house and was now taking it upon himself to take care of the list.
“Did he tell you where Sister Josephine is?” I pressed.
“Not yet. He claims he doesn’t know anything about it.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I don’t know yet. They are still working on him, although he finally asked for a lawyer,” Hobart said with a shake of his head. “He just lost it in there within a matter of minutes. I couldn’t believe it.”
“But no Sister Josephine?”
“Nothing yet.” Hobart pushed himself off the railing. “I’m going to head back in there to start talking to some of the other members. Sanchez just wanted you to know about Carpenter.”
I nodded my head before turning my back to the house again.
“You okay out here?” Hobart asked from behind me.
“I’m fine,” I answered with a wave of my hand, but I wasn’t fine. I was anything other than fine. Sister Josephine was somewhere out there, and we weren’t any closer to finding her. We were closing in on the twelve hour mark. I heard the front door swing shut as Hobart left me alone again.
I trudged along the porch and followed the rail around to the side of the house. I looked into the windows to see the officers keeping a close eye on the HP members. The officers strolled around the group of men. Most of them were now sitting on the ground.
The sound of a faint whisper echoed through the window, disrupting the melodic hum of the night.
“Hey,” it called to me.
I bent down and peered inside, but I didn’t see anyone near the window. I inched closer and saw the shoes of someone sitting against the wall.
“Hey, you out there?” he whispered again. Jeremy.
Officer Hobart shot a look across the room toward me. I gave a quick nod and smiled through the window before I backed against the siding of the house and slid to sit on the porch. Jeremy and I were back to back, the house between us.
“Yeah,” I whispered back and waited, listening to the muffled sounds of the men talking inside.
“You know you’re a real bitch for doing this to us.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Classic Evie Parker.”
I didn’t respond.
“Is it really true that there is a woman missing?”
“Yeah.”
“The guy in the glasses. His name is Kevin Carpenter. Ring any bells?”
“No.”
“He’s showed me the list before, but I didn’t think he would do anything about it. He really is a big fan of yours. All the guys here are - were, I should say. You were a vigilante in your own right. Holston needed to pay for the mistakes that he made in the beginning when he killed your two brothers,” he said.
I didn’t respond.
“I just never pegged Kevin as a killer, you know?” Jeremy whispered. “As strange as he is, I don’t think he would kill anyone. He’s a pretty normal guy, nice enough anyway.”
“That’s how they all are,” I said. “Normal until you find out they have a crematory in their backyard. By the way, he already confessed, if you haven’t heard.”
“I don’t know what the hell is going on, but he definitely didn’t know who you were looking for. There has never been any mention of a Sister Josephine before,” Jeremy whispered. “Not in anything I’ve read or seen.”
“She’s a long-time friend that’s missing. Holston apparently knew her when she was younger; they were at the same orphanage. Some bastard is holding her hostage and wants me in exchange to seek out his revenge,” I said, wondering what Sanchez might think of this conversation. I was giving details and information to a stranger, but I was desperate to find Sister Josephine.
“Hostage?” Jeremy asked before he paused. More murmuring from inside the house buzzed through the window. I waited, thinking about the real possibility that the bumbling, fanatic Kevin Carpenter didn’t take Sister Josephine.
“Who would want revenge on you?” Jeremy continued.
“I don’t know,” I whispered, my foot now tapping against the planks. What if Jeremy was right? What if Sister Josephine’s kidnapper was still out there? I shot my eyes out into the fields in front of me. I had never thought of the possibility that the murder of Fred Sullivan and the kidnapping of Sister Josephine were done by separate suspects. It had always been one person. One suspect.
“Go back to the beginning,” Jeremy said. “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”
Before I could respond, footsteps echoed near the window. They were followed by a man’s voice other than Jeremy’s. “You’re up.”
I scrambled to see Jeremy stand up and be escorted out of the living room by Officer Hobart. My fingertips curled around the edges of the sill and my legs twitched as Jeremy’s words sang through my head. The beginning.
17
June 20, 9:35 p.m.
Amberg, Wisconsin
I did what I do best. I ran.
I sprinted through the grass and swung to the other side of James’s SUV. I pulled out the phone as I ducked down and leaned against the front tire to find Delaney in the contacts.
“Thank God you called. Are you okay?” Delaney answered, her voice filled with relief. “Please tell me you got the asshole and found Sister Josephine.”
“I’m fine. That bastard who bought Holston’s house in Apple
ton, you know, Kevin Carpenter, confessed to killing Fred Sullivan, but he claims he doesn’t know anything about Sister Josephine.”
“Oh my God,” Delaney whispered.
“But I think I might have an idea where Sister Josephine is. Does the officer there know you’re on the phone? One word answers,” I ordered.
“Yes.”
“Does he know it’s me?”
“Yes.”
I needed the name and address fast without the officer knowing. I hoped like hell Delaney had found it. I couldn’t have Sanchez tailing me and ruining my chances of finding Sister Josephine alive. “Did you find any orphanages?” I started.
There was silence on the other end.
“Delaney,” I said again. I was expecting an earful from her about how I shouldn’t do this alone and how dangerous it was. That I should trust the police department to do their jobs.
“Got it covered,” Delaney whispered. “I did a little investigative work when you left.”
“Good,” I said, feeling my lips twitch upward into a smile full of pride. “I’m smiling, just so you know.”
“I like hearing that,” she said, her voice forcefully loud and clear. I imagined Delaney nodding her head as she looked at the officer. I couldn’t have her on the phone for long, although she was mastering the art of digging up information, she was still a terrible liar. The art of debauchery had only gotten so far.
“Before I give you the name and address, I think you should know that he called,” Delaney whispered. “Ryan. About an hour ago. I don’t know how the hell he got my number.”
“Ryan?” I said his name aloud. In a second, my voice was gone and his name vanished into the wind. He called despite the fact that he said he couldn’t do this anymore. He said he wasn’t going to risk his life for me, yet here he was, doing it all again. He knew that Delaney’s phone would be monitored, but he called anyway.
“He said that the American Cowboy was arrested,” Delaney whispered. “Is that code for something?”
“No,” I said as I wrapped my mind around Delaney’s words. The Cowboy had been arrested.
