Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  “So, she was a prostitute.”

  “She didn’t only trade herself, she traded her sons. She’d let her dealer use the boys, or bring in a john to use them. Sometimes she made them use each other, and other times she joined in.”

  John sat sickened. What their mother had done went beyond repulsive. She’d destroyed Winston and his half-brother, and in the process, likely distorted their view on women. “How old were they when Haney died?”

  “Winston was thirteen and the brother eleven.”

  “Where’d they end up, foster care?”

  “Haney did. Winston’s paternal grandparents brought him back to Pensacola. He lived with them until they died when he was eighteen.”

  “What, did they die at the same time?”

  “Yep, a house fire took them both while they were sleeping.”

  “Where was Winston?”

  “Supposedly at a friend’s. The fire was ruled an accident, faulty wiring. However, it seems rather convenient, especially because Winston walked away with seventy thousand dollars thanks to his grandparents’ life and homeowners insurance.”

  “That explains how Winston could afford his rig,” he said. “Where’d he go next?”

  “Back to Mississippi.”

  “Let me guess...to find his brother.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking.”

  “We need to find Haney.”

  What Susan Haney had done to her sons offered an answer to the question of why two men would rape and kill together. The fact that most of the women that had been murdered were prostitutes, like Susan Haney, coupled with Winston’s accusation toward his brother, only backed that theory. And Tobias Haney, whoever he was now, was still roaming free.

  “Could be a challenge. He didn’t go through legal channels to change his name. He simply disappeared. But I’ll keep working on it.”

  “Thanks, Rachel, anything else?”

  “Check your inbox. The DNA comparisons came in late last night. Ian’s going to have to cut a hefty check for the fast turnaround, but it was well worth it. The geneticist was able to match Winston’s DNA to twenty-nine cold cases spanning five states and seventeen years, beginning in Pensacola, before his grandparents died.”

  “Were there any DNA comparisons linked to Winston that didn’t match?”

  “Yeah. Eight victims had two different types of trace DNA evidence found on them. The rest were all Winston.”

  “When did this start?”

  “The additional DNA? Twelve years ago. A prostitute was found decomposing in a field about seventy miles outside of Jackson. She was severely beaten, raped, both vaginally and anally, and based on the ligature marks around her neck, the evidence suggested she’d been strangled with an electrical cord.”

  Celeste stepped into the office wearing another one of her Sugar Shack t-shirts. This one was red, with “Sweet Tooth” emblazoned across the front in a funky, bubbly seventies font. With her blond curls framing her face, cherry lip gloss accentuating her mouth, that tight t-shirt and faded, low-riding jeans, she looked good enough to eat.

  After losing focus, he cleared his throat. “Come again?”

  “I said,” Rachel lisped, signifying she’d plopped a pencil in her mouth. “The dual sets of DNA stopped about ten years ago. So, if Winston’s partner was Haney, he either didn’t kill those other women, or he discovered a little something about forensic evidence.”

  “This is great stuff, Rachel.”

  “What’s even better is that the cold case detectives in Florida, Alabama and Mississippi are already foaming at the mouth for extradition. So you know what that means.”

  “Oh yeah. An eye for an eye.”

  “Yep. Winston might think he’s safe in Wisconsin, but our guys down south want the death penalty.”

  His mind raced in all sorts of directions. He wasn’t interested in making a deal with Winston, but he wanted Haney. He wanted to ensure the bastard could never kill again. The Eau Claire DA would have to battle it out with the DAs down south, maybe even Indiana, where several murder victims had also been linked to Winston. But to promise Winston a life in prison for the twenty-nine murders he’d committed? In his opinion, the man deserved the death penalty. Still, he wanted his brother. Maybe if they found him, he could be the one extradited.

  He needed advice. With the evidence they had, and the possibility that there was another victim, and maybe more to follow, he needed to make sure he had all his ducks in a row before he contacted the DA or confronted Winston. “Is Ian around? I’d like to pick his brain on this.”

  “Ah, no. He had to go out of town for a few days. Don’t know where, but I’ll let him know you’re looking for him when he calls.”

  Don’t bother, sat on the tip of his tongue. Ian had been out of reach all week. He’d talk things over with Roy and go from there. “Sure, I’d appreciate it.”

  “I’ll keep looking for Haney. Call if you have any questions about the stuff I sent you, or if you need anything else.”

  After he hung up, he glanced at Celeste. Her earlier smile had faded, and her eyes held concern. “Did Rachel find Winston’s partner?” she asked, her voice hopeful.

  “Yeah,” he said, then gave her a quick recap of his conversation with Rachel.

  “Wow. I mean...wow.” She shook her head in disbelief. “What kind of mother does that to her own children?”

  “I know, but it still doesn’t excuse rape and murder.”

  She crossed the room, and sank onto his lap. “Will you see Winston today?” she asked as she wrapped her hands around his neck.

  “That’ll depend on what kind of shape he’s in today. I hope so, though. I want his brother. I want to end this investigation and move on...with you.” He brushed his lips across hers.

  “Me too.” She nipped his lower lip, then groaned. “I better go before one thing leads to another,” she said, and hopped off his lap. “Are you planning on coming over later?”

  He grinned as he followed her to the door, then caged her against the wall. “Let’s see, you...?” He kissed her cheek. “Or the Chippewa Inn?” He kissed her lips. “Hmm, what do you think?”

  “That I’ll see you tonight.” Taking a key from her back pocket, she slipped it into his hand. “Lock up when you’re finished.”

  The warm metal dug into his palm as he made a fist. He’d never owned the key to a woman’s home, nor had he ever given his out to anyone, not even Renee. The significance of the small gesture spoke volumes. Trust, love, commitment. “I love you,” he said before kissing her again.

  “Stop,” she protested with a giggle, and gave him a little shove. “Will’s waiting for me.”

  Outside, he greeted Will and the blushing Viking. After he gave Celeste another quick kiss, he moved his rental car out of the driveway. Once everyone had driven off, he gathered his laptop from the sedan, then headed back to the house and went to work.

  After printing the files Rachel had sent, he reviewed all of the evidence they had against Winston. He then spent time returning phone calls to the cold case detectives involved.

  Hours later, showered, and armed with a binder filled with two hundred plus pages containing everything they had on Winston, he walked through Roy’s office door. “Sorry I’m so late.” He took a seat opposite the sheriff.

  “I was wondering when you were going to finally make it in,” Roy greeted him, and shoved the sandwich he’d been eating aside. “I was going to wait and take you up on that offer of lunch at The Sugar Shack, but when the clock struck one, I gave in to my stomach.”

  “Sorry. Time got away from me. Celeste had another trance last night.”

  Roy wiped his mouth with a napkin, then straightened. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine, and I recorded what I could.”

  “Good, let’s have a listen.”

  He dropped the binder on the desk. “Later. What I have here is more important right now.”

  As Roy leafed through the pages that w
ould condemn Winston and possibly Haney, John rose, then paced the office. The excitement running through his veins gave him a natural high, and had his mind buzzing.

  He and Celeste were an official couple. They loved each other and after this investigation ended, she’d move to Chicago to live with him. He couldn’t wait to share his condo, his life, his love with her. He wanted to celebrate his good fortune. Tell everyone he knew, even total strangers, how happy she’d made him. With the information sitting on Roy’s desk, they were one step closer to solving the investigation, which only drew him one step closer to his new life with Celeste.

  Roy smoothed his mustache as he turned page after page, then sat back in his chair with a gusty sigh. “My tired eyes can’t process all this. Why don’t you just explain it to me.”

  “I’d rather explain it to Winston and watch him squirm. Have you checked on him yet today?”

  “Other than the prospect of a free lunch, that’s why I was anxious for you to get here. The Doc says he’s awake and lucid.”

  “Still crying?”

  Roy laughed. “Yep, our crybaby killer is still living up to his name.”

  He tapped the binder as he leaned over the desk. “Well, what I’ve got here will have him crying a fucking river.”

  After John filled him in on what he’d learned about Winston and Haney, then explained his concern about cutting Winston a deal, the sheriff nodded. “I’m personally for the death penalty, but at this point, I think our main focus should be stopping Winston’s brother. Let the DA deal with the extradition when the time comes. Although…”

  “What?”

  “You opposed to telling a few white lies to the crybaby?”

  John grinned, suspecting Roy’s train of thought. Winston hadn’t bothered with an attorney up to this point. Chances were he didn’t know the steps involved with extraditing a criminal to another state. “I don’t think my conscience will suffer. Let’s pay Winston a visit and bluff our way through our interrogation and hope for some answers.”

  “Maybe we should stop by the R & P and buy a couple boxes of tissues for the crybaby. You know, as a little get well gift,” Roy chuckled as they left the Sheriff’s Department.

  “You really do have a sick sense of humor,” John said with a smile. “What’s sick, is that I like it.”

  * * *

  With the lunch rush over, Celeste finally took a breather. After removing her stiff, greasy apron, she sat in the small, cramped office in the back of The Sugar Shack and rested her feet on a milk crate that served as a file box. As she closed her eyes, her cell phone rang.

  Releasing a tired sigh, she looked at the caller ID, then jerked to attention, knocking over the milk crate. She hadn’t expected a call from Ian, but why wouldn’t he call her? He was her father, and would only be in town for a couple of days. Besides, she had wanted to talk to him about last night’s trance, but hadn’t had the nerve to call him first. So much had transpired last night, and as she’d worked through both the breakfast and lunch rush, she’d contemplated whether she should tell Ian about moving to Chicago with John.

  Still not sure how to broach the subject, she decided to play it safe and let him lead the conversation. Drawing in a deep, fortifying breath, she answered the phone on the fourth ring.

  “Hi, Celeste. It’s Ian. Is this a bad time?”

  “No, not at all. How are you?”

  “Bored. What time does your shift end? I’d like to see you later.”

  “I’ll be here until after dinner. Probably around seven or so.”

  “Can I pick you up then? Maybe we could go for a drive or get an ice cream cone.”

  Her dad used to take her for ice cream after work when she was a kid. The thought of doing something remotely similar with Ian seemed like a betrayal to her dad. Which was stupid, really. Ian simply wanted to spend time with her. And a part of her wanted to spend time with him. Considering they’d be living in the same city, and she might actually decide to work for him, maybe she should put aside her petty concerns and allow the man into her life.

  “That sounds great. Will drove me here, so I could use a ride home.”

  “What about John? I know he’ll be busy throughout the day.”

  She almost asked him how he knew, then figured he’d probably spoken with Roy. “He’s meeting me at my house later. If you’re worried about running into him there, we could just have Roy drop me off at home,” she said, and couldn’t hide the bitterness in her voice. She loved John, and hated lying to him, or in this case, completely avoiding a situation that would concern him both professionally and personally.

  “You’re making me feel childish,” he said with a chuckle. “As much as I’d love to let John in on our secret, I still want to wait. He’s close to solving this investigation. I don’t want to derail him now. Not with how close you two have become.”

  How did he know that?

  Roy. She was going to have to have a long talk with that man. His loyalties had become quite questionable.

  Still not sure how much she wanted to reveal about her relationship, she ignored his last comment. “Then I guess I’ll see you around seven.”

  “Seven it is,” he said, then the call disconnected.

  She set her phone on the desk and stared at a crack in the wall. How many times had she asked Will to fix that crack and repaint the drab walls? Dozens. Now that she thought about it, there were a number of things around the diner that were in need of repair. Of course nothing that interfered with the business or required a quick remedy should a health inspector pay a visit. The Sugar Shack needed a makeover.

  She’d never bothered her dad with the suggestions she had to give the place a polish that would make it shine. She hadn’t wanted to commit more time to the diner. Or maybe it was because she knew deep down that if she made the diner her own, it would become hers. A crutch, a way to keep herself buried in the past and her grief. A reason to not move forward and on with her life.

  She supposed it didn’t matter now. She’d made a decision, and would move to Chicago with John. The fate of the diner would rest on her dad. Her stomach knotted just thinking about the talk she’d have with him. She didn’t want to disappoint or hurt him. She wanted to put The Sugar Shack and Wissota Falls behind her and enjoy a new beginning in Chicago.

  The diner phone rang, saving her from dissecting how she’d handle the conversation with her dad. “Sugar Shack, Celeste.”

  “Hi, Celeste, this is Sal Riviera from Booker Foods. I wanted to take care of the order mishap with your account.”

  Pleased, she quickly fired off everything that they’d missed on their last shipment. After Sal had assured her next week’s delivery would be as it should, he rattled off a few new items on their seafood line. She doodled on a piece of paper as he droned on about shrimp and lobster, her thoughts still on the diner, her dad, Ian and of course John...always John.

  Until Sal mentioned trout.

  The tip of the pencil snapped against the paper as an image flashed in her mind. “Thanks, Sal, but I’m going to pass.”

  “But the—”

  “I’ve got to go.” She hung up the phone. Her heart beat fast as she stared at the doodle she’d created. Not just squiggly lines but a rudimentary sketch that would make Will grimace in distaste.

  She quickly dialed John’s cell. As she waited for him to pick up, she stared at the crude drawing, wondering how she’d missed the clues when she’d listened to last night’s trance. She couldn’t believe—

  “Hey, hon,” John answered. A car door slammed in the background. “Roy and I are heading into the hospital. Can I call you back?”

  “Yes, no,” she blurted.

  “Celeste, are you okay? What is it?”

  She looked down to the sketch she’d made. “I know where you’ll find the third victim.”

  Chapter 24

  AFTER JOHN TOLD Roy he’d catch up with him inside the hospital, he leaned against the sheriff’s cruiser. “Where d
o you think we’ll find the third victim?” he asked Celeste, gripping his cell phone tight, and wondering how he would have handled this investigation without her. Because of Celeste, they had Winston, which had led to the insurmountable evidence that he’d killed over thirty people. Because of her, they’d found two other victims, which had led them to a second killer that needed to be stopped. Now she was giving him the third.

  She simply amazed him.

  “Do you remember when I told you about my first vision, the one that involved Lloyd?” she asked.

  “Yeah, you said you knew where to find him because your dad liked to fly fish in that same spot. Is that where you think she is?”

  “No, not there. A place about a half mile south...God, I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before. But I was talking to this salesman and he said something about trout, which my dad used to fish for and I was drawing without even realizing when—”

  “A half mile south and...?” he prompted, trying to keep her focused.

  “Sorry. A half mile south there’s a waterfall. Two, actually, because of a jutting rock thingy at the center. Between the dual waterfalls and the river, it can sound like the water is rushing in three different directions.”

  “Could you point this place out on a map?”

  “Sure, but so could Roy. Just tell him about the waterfalls. He’ll know the spot.”

  “Will do, maybe we could gather a search party together and comb the area in the morning.” He stared at the hospital door, anxious to interrogate Winston, but not wanting to blow off Celeste, either. She meant so much to the investigation. She meant so much to him.

  “Wait, a search party?” she asked, with a frustrated groan. “I thought maybe you and Roy could just take a look. I mean, what if I’m wrong? I don’t want you guys to stick your necks out and look like a couple of fools because I had a hunch.”

  He smiled and pictured her twirling a curl around her finger. She had nothing to be nervous about. If they didn’t find the third victim, then they didn’t find her. He’d rather take the chance and look, than miss an opportunity to nail Winston for another murder. “I believe in your hunches. You haven’t been wrong yet.”