Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  “Then all we’ll need to do is find his partner.”

  The front doors to the Sheriff’s Department chimed.

  “Must be the pizza,” Bev said, rising from her chair, just as Roy’s phone rang.

  As Roy took the call, John wished for something other than pizza. He’d wanted a sandwich from The Sugar Shack. Actually, he wanted to see Celeste. The sandwich, the offer to buy Bev and Roy lunch, were excuses. He’d missed waking up to her this morning, although helping her in her basement kitchen wasn’t half bad. He’d made sure she knew he was there, and had touched her whenever the chance arose. While doing so, he’d conjured all sorts of ways they could utilize that big island in the middle of the kitchen. He’d pictured spreading her body on the counter and feasting on her, or bending her over it and—

  The slam of the phone jarred him from his fantasy. He whipped his gaze to Roy who rose from his chair.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Bev said as she walked into the room carrying a couple of pizza boxes.

  “That was Winston’s doctor. Our boy is finally awake.”

  * * *

  By the time John and Roy reached Eau Claire Memorial’s ICU, John’s thoughts were focused solely on Garrett Winston and the case. On the unknown partner.

  “Sheriff, Mr. Kain,” Winston’s doctor greeted them, his expression somber, distressed. “I know you’re anxious to talk with my patient, but there’s something you should understand.”

  “That is?” John asked, ready to interrogate the hell out of Winston.

  The doctor pulled them aside. “Look,” he began. “I told you that the subdural hematoma could cause a coma, which it did. I also told you that once he woke, the effects of his injury could change him.”

  John looked to Roy, who shrugged.

  “What are you getting at, Doc?” Roy asked.

  The doctor sighed. “I don’t know what he was like before, but he’s pretty much a basket case right now.”

  John scratched the back of his head and glanced toward Winston’s hospital room. “A basket case, meaning?”

  “Meaning, he’s a bit, um, emotional right now. And rightfully so,” he quickly added. “He’s been through a lot and I recommend you keep your tone gentle.”

  Gentle? The image of the six dead bodies, along with Celeste’s horrifying trances raced through his mind. “He doesn’t deserve gentle,” John snapped, his temper flaring. “He deserves the death penalty. The only reason I’m glad you saved him is because he has answers to questions we haven’t been able to ascertain. He might be your patient, but he’s also killed a lot of women. In ways you don’t even want to know.”

  Winston’s doctor leaned against the wall. “I read the article from the local paper this morning. As a doctor, trust me when I say it was hard to deal with the fact that I’d saved a killer’s life.” Shoving off the wall, he added, “Have at him, but I’m warning you to be prepared.”

  “Prepared for what? Come clean, dammit,” Roy snarled. “I’d just spent the past three hours looking at the women he’d killed.”

  The doctor gave them a solemn nod. “From the moment Garrett woke up he’s been crying.”

  “As in yelling kinda cry?” Roy asked.

  “No. As in sniffling like a baby crying.” The doctor glanced at his watch, then opened the door to Winston’s room. “See for yourselves. And if you distress him, you’ll be dismissed. He might be a murderer, but he’s still my patient.”

  John gave him a curt nod. “Understood,” he said. He and Roy entered the room, just as Winston released a gut-wrenching sob.

  “What did I tell you?” the doctor asked as he glanced at the curtain drawn around Winston’s hospital bed. “I have to check on another patient. I’ll see you later.”

  “Ho-lee shit,” Roy muttered under his breath after the doctor left the room. “What do you think? Is he playing us, or is what the doc said for real?”

  John shook his head. “I’ve seen plenty of shit over the years,” he whispered. “Criminals having their coming to Jesus moment and all that BS. But I’m not sure what to make of this right now with the way he’s blubbering like a baby.”

  “Okay. So, how do you want to handle this?” Roy asked. “Like we’re talking to a four-year-old, or do we go balls out?”

  John grinned. “Considering he’s murdered four women, and allegedly even more, I say we skip the good cop/bad cop routine and hit him straight on.”

  “I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Roy grinned. “You gonna go first?”

  “With pleasure.” Metal scraped against metal as John tugged open the curtain. “Ma’am,” he said, greeting the nurse.

  She widened her eyes in exasperation when Winston eyed them and began bawling with renewed vigor. “Shh,” she soothed him, as she checked the IV. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”

  “You’re leaving?” he asked, childlike.

  “Mmm-hmm, but I’ll be back in a bit to check on you,” she said as she peered at the bandage wrapped around his head.

  “Okay, but can you grab me another box of tissues?” Winston’s eyes leaked fresh tears. “I can’t stop crying. I can’t stop...” He broke into another hysterical sob, hiccups and all.

  After the nurse dropped a box of tissues next to Winston and left the room, John moved to the edge of the hospital bed. The bastard sported a couple of black eyes, stitches on his cheek, and a swollen lip. Tears streamed down his pale face as he darted his eyes between him and Roy.

  “It’s true, isn’t it?” Winston sniveled and reached for a tissue, then blew his raw nose.

  “What’s true?” John asked.

  Winston tugged on the handcuff secured to the bedrail. “I woke up and...and...oh God, I—” More crying, moaning, and nose blowing.

  John glanced at Roy, who gave him an encouraging nod. Not that he’d need any encouragement. He’d take advantage of Winston’s vulnerable state to obtain what he wanted. Answers.

  “Do you know where you are?” he asked, then placed a mini tape recorder on the night stand next to the bed and hit record.

  “The hospital,” Winston groaned as he wadded the tissue in his hand.

  “What’s your full name?” he asked.

  “Garrett Alan Winston.”

  He then asked Winston if he knew who was president, the current year and all that bullshit. He wanted to be certain Winston was cognitive enough for interrogation.

  He answered everything perfectly.

  “Good,” John said with an encouraging smile. “You refused an attorney when you were arrested. Would you like one now?”

  Please say no. He didn’t want to have to wait any longer than they already had to question Winston.

  “No attorney can save me now. Only...God,” he mumbled, while tears streamed down his face, catching in his beard.

  John doubted that. For what Winston had done, he’d likely burn in hell for an eternity—at least he hoped so. On the bright side, Winston’s coming to Jesus moment could help speed up the process. He’d questioned prisoners who’ve gone through this before, and they’d always been eager to confess all of their dirty secrets in their search for redemption.

  “Do you remember how you ended up in the hospital?”

  Winston’s chin trembled, his lips quivered as new tears sprung from his eyes. “Hoyt, one of the guards at the county jail, was bringing me food. The next thing I knew he was trying to stick a needle in me.”

  “What happened next?”

  “I don’t know,” Winston howled, as he swiped his face with the back of his hand. “I...reacted. Him or me, that’s all I thought, and then...is he okay?”

  “No, he’s dead.”

  Winston became a slobbering mess.

  “Get it together,” Roy shouted, surprising both him and Winston. “Tell us what happened. Otherwise we’re adding cop killer to your résumé.”

  “No, you don’t understand,” he yelled as he grabbed at the box of ti
ssues. “I didn’t mean...”

  “Garrett, you reacted in self-defense.” John kept his tone calm, hoping to keep Winston from becoming hysterical again. “But we need to know what happened.”

  Drawing in a big breath, Winston leaned against the pillows, and nodded. “Like I said, Hoyt brought me food. He told me to wait on my bunk, so I did. After he dropped the tray on the table, he gave me a funny look and told me to remain seated. Then he moved, quick. Pulled something out of his pocket and came at me.” His chin trembled, but he kept his composure. “I grabbed his wrist and fought him. When I realized what he was holding, I just got plain pissed.”

  “It came down to you or him.”

  “That’s right. So I did what I had to do and shoved the needle in his neck. Next thing I know, I’ve got three guards on me, hitting me with their clubs.” He closed his eyes. “Now here I am, wishing I’d let Hoyt put me out of my misery.”

  At this point, John thought about bringing up the four women they were certain Winston had killed. But they already had enough evidence on those murders to put him away for four lifetimes. He couldn’t bring up the unsolved murders they’d been working on until all of the law enforcement agencies submitted their DNA reports to Rachel, who would then send them out for comparison. That left him with Courtney and Lauren’s murders and Winston’s partner.

  “Why do you think Hoyt tried to kill you?” John asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Really? You don’t have any enemies? Anyone that would like to see you dead? Anyone that might be worried you know something you’re not supposed to?”

  Winston hesitated, then shook his head.

  “Don’t pussyfoot around, tell him,” Roy said.

  Winston whipped his gaze to Roy. “Tell me what?”

  John looked to the sheriff, knowing he was right. Enough time had been wasted. “Garrett, Hoyt was blackmailed into killing you.”

  Winston’s red-rimmed eyes flickered with pain and betrayal before fresh tears spilled from them. “That don’t make no sense.”

  “That’s what we thought at first, until we found two more victims.”

  “One of them had been sodomized before being gutted and tossed in a lake,” Roy said, his tone dripping with disgust. “The other had been found near the mill in Tilden. You know the place don’t you? ‘Cause according to Booker Foods, Tilden was part of your truck route.”

  “The thing about that victim,” John added. “She wasn’t stabbed, but strangled, just like the women you’d dumped in Wissota Falls.”

  Winston closed his eyes and actually whimpered like a dog. “Please, I don’t want to hear any more.”

  “But we’re just getting to the good part,” Roy said with sarcasm.

  “That’s right, Garrett. See, that second girl, she’d been raped by two different men.”

  Winston opened his eyes wide, and stared at him in shock.

  “Evidence, Garrett,” John began. “DNA, fibers, hair samples, one set was yours.” He shrugged as he lied. Other than a hunch and Celeste’s trances, they had zero evidence against Winston, or even a second killer. “And I’m betting the other belongs to your partner.”

  “I...I work alone,” Winston sputtered.

  “Then explain the evidence. Explain why you’re here.” John slammed his hand on the bedrail. “We know you were working with someone, why would you protect him? Why would you confess and spend life in prison while he roams free? And why would you continue to keep your mouth shut when he’s the one that blackmailed Hoyt into trying to kill you?”

  Winston’s face crumpled as a sob tore through him.

  “Damn it, Garrett. Do you want God’s forgiveness? Do you want deliverance and salvation for what you’ve done?”

  “Yes,” he hissed.

  “Then start here. Start now.”

  “I...I can’t,” he cried, bawling like a baby.

  “He wants you dead. What do you know about him?”

  Covering his face with his hands, Winston sniveled and blubbered, rocking his body as far as the IV and handcuff would allow. “How could he?” he muttered over and over beneath his hands.

  “Who?” John demanded. “Garrett, who did this to you?”

  Winston tore his hands away and fisted the sheets. Veins bulged in his neck as his pale, bruised face became crimson with anger. “My fucking brother,” he screamed, then in a frenzied fit of rage, he ripped the IV from his arm. Blood trickled from his wrist and splattered onto the white sheet as he tore at the sensors stuck to his chest.

  John and Roy both jumped back as Winston lunged. “I’ve got to get out of here,” he shouted.

  Three nurses raced into the room, followed by Winston’s doctor who ordered, “Strap him down, we need to sedate him.”

  “No,” Winston growled as he tried to untangle his legs from the sheets. “I’ll kill him for this! I’ll kill that bastard so he can’t kill again.”

  The doctor helped two of the nurses pin him down as the other nurse took a syringe to Winston’s arm. Within seconds, Winton slumped against the bed, his eyes rolling back, his breathing harsh and ragged. Then he was out cold.

  Wiping sweat from his brow and drawing in deep breaths, the doctor turned to them. “Leave. He’ll be out for hours. Besides, I need to make sure he didn’t damage any of his sutures, and probably give him a few stitches.”

  As he pocketed the tape recorder, John looked to the small gash on Winston’s arm where the IV had once been. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “I expected as much.” He ushered them into the hallway. “Call me before you come in,” he said, and handed Roy his card. “I don’t know if whatever happened today will affect him tomorrow. No sense on you wasting a trip if he’s not lucid.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” Roy said.

  As they walked through the hospital corridors, the sheriff kept shifting his gaze toward him, a smirk beneath his mustache. Once they’d reached the parking garage, John stopped him.

  “What?”

  “I can picture the headlines if the media catches wind of this,” Roy began chuckling. “The Crybaby Killer.”

  “God, you have a sick sense of humor,” John said with a grin. “Is that what you were coming up with while I was interrogating Winston?”

  “You call that an interrogation? ‘Do you want God’s forgiveness? Do you want deliverance and salvation?’” Roy’s bark of laughter echoed throughout the parking garage. “Hell, you’d have made a mighty fine preacher. I was waiting for you to get all fire and brimstone on his ass.”

  Laughing with him, grateful for a release from the tension he’d endured during their time with Winston, John climbed into the cruiser. As he slammed the car door shut, he sobered and looked at the sheriff, who gave him a solemn nod.

  “You did good, kid. We might not have gotten the name of his partner, but we’ve got ourselves a lead.”

  “His brother,” he said, as he retrieved his cell phone. He needed Rachel and her research skills.

  “How can two men decide to rape and kill together?” Roy asked as he drove out of the parking garage. “I’ve got a couple of brothers, and couldn’t even imagine it.”

  “That’s because you’re not a sociopath, and I’m assuming, neither are your brothers.” He punched in Rachel’s number, but didn’t place the call as a thought occurred to him. “I think our answers to why they committed the murders are buried in their past. I already had Rachel perform a background check on Winston, and there wasn’t any mention of siblings.”

  “What about a fraternity brother or brother at arms?”

  John shook his head. “Winston never went to college or joined the military.” He hit send and waited for Rachel to answer.

  “Hi, John. How’s things hanging in Wisconsin? Did you receive the rest of the data I sent?”

  “Hey, Rachel, no I didn’t. The sheriff and I just left the hospital after interrogating Winston.”

  “Holy crap, he’s awake? He better not have rolle
d over and confessed everything after all the work I’ve done for you.”

  “You’re a real riot. I love how it always comes back to you. And no, unfortunately your efforts weren’t undermined by a quick confession.”

  “Damn, that’s too bad,” she said, with genuine disappointment. “Did he give you anything?”

  “That’s why I’m calling. Winston claims his partner is his brother.”

  “I found no siblings when I did his background check. Could he have meant ‘brother’ figuratively?”

  “The sheriff suggested that, and it’s possible, but I’d still like you to dig deeper. Maybe you can look into—”

  “His parents’ past, see if there are any half-brothers lurking around, maybe with a different last name, gotcha.”

  “When did you become a mind reader?”

  She half-laughed. “It’s a side-effect from pencil lead. I’ll see what I can dig up for you. Be safe.”

  Smiling, he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

  “Look at you, friendly with a psychic and now a mind reader,” Roy said as he glanced at him.

  “Rachel’s a real piece of work. But if anybody can find out what we need, she can.”

  “So...how friendly are you with this Rachel?”

  “Not like how I think you’re implying.”

  “And Celeste?”

  Damn. He knew this was coming, but he’d hoped to avoid the overprotective, surrogate dad routine with Roy. “Since you’re sheriff in these here parts,” he drawled. “I already know you own a gun. If you want to know something, why don’t you ask me straight?”

  With a chuckle, Roy turned toward Wissota Falls. “Okay.”

  A minute passed, then another. “Okay what?”

  Roy shrugged. “You know I own a gun, you’re involved with Celeste, so the way I figure, at this point asking anything else seems redundant. Don’t you think?” He parked in front of the Sheriff’s Department, and cut the ignition. “C’mon, let’s eat some cold pizza and finish researching all that stuff your gal Rachel keeps sending us. I want to cut out early. Bev and I have a hot date tonight. How ‘bout you?” he asked as they walked into the building.

  John frowned. What about him? Maybe he should be asking Celeste to go out with him on an actual date. She deserved to be wined and dined. Romanced. Maybe a quiet, candlelit dinner for two at a cozy restaurant. A place where they could talk about their future, and definitely not about the investigation. Sure, he’d tell her about today. He loved hearing her take on things and including her in his job. But he also wanted to learn more about her, about her thoughts, of them...of their future.