“Tell me you’ve got something.”
“I do,” Miranda said. “I had my people working around the clock last night on all that stuff related to your prints.”
“And?”
“They’re planted. Most definitely.”
Vincent closed his eyes and smiled, covering the mouthpiece on the phone and then announcing the good news to Brandt. “And you have everything I need on hand to verify this?”
“All on official FBI paperwork,” Miranda said. “Long story short, someone got a hold of your prints using a fairly quick and easy method. I’ve broken it down on the report. There were these slight streaks indicative of a kind of application someone was using to plant the prints. Basically, the streaks that were left from the prints were done through fabrication, not naturally. Whoever did this was smart, but they were a little lazy.”
Vincent let the good news sink in.
I needed this.
“How soon can you get this stuff to me?” he asked.
“I just sent it overnight an hour ago,” Miranda said. “It should be there soon. If you need anything else, give me a heads-up. Word is that the state’s attorney in your area is closing in fast.”
“Well,” Vincent said, “this new lead helps, and it’s all thanks to you.”
“Talk to you soon, Vincent.”
“Much obliged, Stone.” He hung up.
“That news helped,” Brandt said.
“Sure as hell did,” Vincent said. “Now we just need to work our angles.”
“Recap.”
“Number one: we have Brackett interview the kids at the high school, which he’s currently doing. I know Riley has you on suspension, but maybe there’s a way for you to go about helping Brackett so we can speed up the process.”
“To hell with Riley. He can’t arrest me. He has nothing to charge me on. I’ll help work the angle on the kids. Don’t worry about that”
“Good,” Vincent said. “I’ll take the other angle, then.”
“Which is?”
Vincent thought back to the faces of the ghouls. “I’m going to look around town. See if I can figure out anything about those little costumes our friends were wearing last night.”
“Find the masks, find the killer.”
“Hopefully it’s that simple.”
Vincent’s phone buzzed—a text from Claire.
I’m hungry!
Starving kids is a crime in the state of Illinois!
“I’ll have to look in to that in a little bit, though,” Vincent said to Brandt. “Looks like I’ve got a date.”
Brandt smirked. “Don’t be long. I know father-daughter time is important, but—”
“Read you loud and clear.” Vincent was already standing up from the table. “I’ll touch base in an hour.”
“Tell her I said hi.” Brandt put money on the table for the coffees.
Vincent then exited the diner without looking back.
26
Vincent stood by Claire’s at the local grocery store, both of them pushing a cart and Vincent insisting that his daughter buy anything that her heart desired.
“Ooooh!” Claire said as she saw the Cap’n Crunch at the end of the aisle. “Haven’t had that in a while. Mom doesn’t let me eat this stuff anymore.”
Vincent winked. “Get it.”
Claire scooped up the box happily and tossed it in the cart.
“Your mom making you eat healthy or something?” Vincent asked.
“Ugh,” Claire said, rolling her eyes. “It’s like her new obsession. I swear, that woman keeps jumping on all these different, like, health and self-help ships every few months.”
“Like what?”
“Diets, gurus, Tony Robbins kind of stuff. It’s so obnoxious. She started leaving quotes on my door from her favorite guru of the month every day.”
“Sounds like she’s just trying to be positive, hon. I’ll give her that much. At least she cares.”
“Yeah,” Claire said, nodding. “I guess so. She just insists that I do whatever it is she’s doing at any given time. She wants us to, like, share the same lifestyle or something.”
“She’s just trying to bond with you.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a bit overbearing.”
Vincent checked his watch. “I do have to go back to work in a few,” he said. “This case is picking up some steam.”
Claire stopped walking down the grocery aisle to look her father in the eye. “So. When are you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?” he asked.
“The truth. About what’s really going on. About why this case is bothering you so much.”
Vincent knew he couldn’t keep putting his daughter in the dark. She was smarter than that, and too intuitive.
“I just don’t want you to be worried, honey,” he said. “I just…figured it was better if you didn’t know.”
Claire hung on to the front of the cart and kept looking in his eyes. She hardly blinked. “I know I’m only sixteen. But I’m not six. I want to know, Dad. I want to help, even if it means just being here, you know?”
Vincent smirked.
It helps a lot.
He motioned for his daughter to come in close. “When I tell you this,” he said, “I tell you in confidence. You cannot tell anyone, not even Mom, about what I’m about to tell you.”
Claire nodded repeatedly.
Vincent sighed. “Someone is killing kids at the high school.”
“Everyone knows that by now, Dad. I saw one of your neighbors checking for their morning newspapers with something that looked like a gun in the pocket of his robe. And walking around earlier when I went to the store on my own, you could hear the old ladies of the town when they whispered. Louder than they should ’cause they’re probably hard of hearing. It’s tough to keep a secret in a small town.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s the truth. But there’s one part that you don’t know, and nobody knows outside of law enforcement.”
Claire’s eyes were wide in anticipation.
“Someone planted my fingerprints all over both of the crime scenes. Whoever is doing this is trying to set it up and make it look like I did it.”
Claire looked completely and utterly stunned.
“I didn’t do it, though, hon,” Vincent said. “An FBI friend just told me she can prove my prints were planted.”
“I know, Dad,” Claire said. “I know you didn’t…wouldn’t do it. I’m just scared.”
Vincent hugged her. “It’s going to be okay, Claire bear. Whoever did this is not going to get away with it. I promise you that.”
Claire took a breath. “Okay.”
“Come on,” Vincent said, pushing the cart. “Let’s finish this up.”
After a few trips down a few more aisles, they moved toward the checkout counter. “Anything you want for dinner tonight?” Claire asked.
“Hmm,” Vincent said. “What are you thinkin’?”
“Well,” Claire said, “I thought maybe the chicken and pasta. But that salmon looks pretty good. We should probably eat it tonight if we want to…”
Something caught Vincent’s eye as Claire continued to list off the possibilities for the evening, resting about thirty feet ahead of them in the bargain bin near the exit doors.
He moved away from the checkout stand, Claire watching on as he approached the bargain bin and picked up a mask scattered among a plethora of discounted Halloween merchandise.
He reached in the bin and pulled out a rubber mask. The exact same mask that was worn by the ghouls. Sporting the same sinister smile.
27
“How long have you had these masks?” Vincent asked as he held it up to the manager of the store after rousting him from his office.
The manager, a portly and pink man with a red apron on, said, “Since September.”
“Do you have any cameras in this store?”
The manager said yes, but looked ashamed. “They don’t record, though. They
just live-feed into a few monitors in my office. I’m supposed to be watching it during store hours, but I’m never in there for more than a few minutes at a time.”
Shit, Vincent thought. “Okay. Do you know who I am?”
The manager nodded. “You’re that old chief.”
“I am. But I’m just a detective now, and I need you to do me a favor and get all the receipts you have on hand since September. You have those, right?”
“Not for the Halloween gear. We get that in bulk.”
“But you have receipts for all the purchases that have occurred in this store, right?”
The manager nodded. “There’s a lot of them.”
“That’s fine. Just get them for me.”
The manager began to move toward his office. “You got it.”
Vincent breathed easy as the manager shuffled off.
Thank God he didn’t ask to see a badge.
His cell phone rang—it was Riley.
“Yeah,” Vincent said as he answered, flat and with no enthusiasm.
“It’s Riley.”
“I can see that. What do you want?”
“Station. Now! Otherwise I’ll have someone bring you in and drag you here.”
The line went dead.
“Everything okay?” Claire said from behind him.
He turned and saw her expression indicating that she was preparing for him to make another quick exit.
“I gotta go,” Vincent said, disappointed in himself.
Claire shrugged. “All good. Be safe.”
“I’m sorry. Do me a favor? The manager will be back in a few seconds. Tell him someone named Brandt is coming by to pick them up soon and that I had to run.”
Claire saluted. “Copy that, sir!”
Vincent pressed two of his fingers to his lips and then planted a kiss on his daughter’s forehead. “I’ll see you soon.”
Claire moved back to the checkout and proceeded to pay for the groceries.
Vincent called Brandt on his way to the station. “Get to the grocery store,” he said. “The manager has some receipts for you.”
“What am I looking for?” Brandt asked.
“Everyone who bought these masks they had in stock, the same ones that our ghoul friends were wearing the other night.”
“That might end up being a problem. Some of the people who bought those might have bought them with cash.”
“True.” And that’s why we work with partners, he thought. “Tell you what,” he continued, “pick the manager’s brain a little more. Talk to people in the store. She if anyone can remember who they sold a mask to. It’s a small town. Everyone knows everyone.”
“You got it,” Brandt said. “What are you gonna do?”
“I just got called into the station,” he said miserably.
“Oh, shit,” Brandt said. “Do you think they’re…well…?”
“I don’t know. One step at a time, detective. They have to question me first. These guys can’t just arrest me on the spot. Riley’s an idiot if he thinks so.”
“It is the state’s attorney’s office. They do get to make a lot of the calls at the end of the day.”
She’s right. “One step at a time, detective,” he repeated before hanging up the phone.
The air was thick and choked with tension when Vincent entered the station. Most of the officers kept their heads low and their eyes on their paperwork as he walked in.
I don’t see Brackett. Hopefully he’s somewhere, anywhere, doing something about the case.
Vincent looked ahead in Riley’s office and saw Hoyt and Messer standing at attention and waiting for him. He held his head high, straightened his tie, and entered the office.
“Mr. Vincent,” Hoyt said, not offering his hand.
Everyone waited in silence.
“You guys going to keep me in suspense?” Vincent said.
Hoyt looked at Riley.
“Mr. Hoyt and Messer have something to tell you, Vincent,” Riley said. “Take a seat.”
“I’d prefer to stand,” Vincent said.
A long pause.
“Mr. Vincent,” Messer said, “after much deliberation, the state’s attorney’s office has seen fit to bring you in on charges of murder.”
“That’s unfortunate to hear,” Vincent said. “Luckily for me, I have a PBA rep and a lawyer that you’ll have to speak to first before you can press any kind of charges.”
Messer shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not the case. We’re here today to charge you with the murders of Ethan Travis and Desiree Messenger. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law—”
“This is horseshit,” Vincent said. “I know my rights. You guys can’t just saunter in here and throw the cuffs on me.”
“That’s exactly what they’re going to do,” Riley said, standing tall. “Mr. Hoyt and Messer will take you into custody. You will be taken to the sheriff’s station over in Rubyville. They’ll be better suited to handle a man of your…nature.”
“Whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean,” Vincent said.
“You’re in a lot of trouble, my friend,” Messer said, taking a step forward as Hoyt reached for a pair of cuffs that Riley offered to him. “This is an unprecedented situation, and we are going to take all the proper precautions to make sure that you are brought to justice.”
Vincent didn’t know what to do.
What the hell is happening?
“You guys can’t take me in,” he said to Hoyt and Messer. “You’re not cops.”
Chief Riley reached for the Glock strapped to his side and massaged the trigger guard with his finger. “Don’t make this any more difficult that it needs to be, Vincent,” he said. “I’ll put you down if I have to.”
Vincent could see from the look in Riley’s eyes that he wasn’t joking.
“Mr. Vincent,” Messer said, “do you have any weapons on you that you wish to tell us about?”
Vincent thought about the gun he had left behind in the glove box.
He shook his head.
“Mr. Vincent.” Hoyt came forward with the cuffs. “Put your hands behind your back, please.”
Vincent didn’t comply right away. “Vincent,” Riley barked, cocking his arm like he was ready to pull his gun. “Hands behind your back.”
Vincent knew that Riley would shoot him dead if he didn’t. Just comply. You’ll figure this out.
Vincent placed his hands behind his back, and Hoyt secured the cuffs on his wrists with a click. After patting Vincent down, Hoyt kept a hold on Vincent by gripping his elbow.
“Move slow and easy,” Hoyt said. “I swear to God, if you make one false move…” He looked Vincent in the eye.
“I understand,” Vincent said, seeing all three men in the room take on a kind of predatory posture.
Riley opened the door and held it, Messer moving in front of Vincent before Hoyt pushed Vincent out of the door, the other officers in the station now looking up.
“Back to work,” Riley said. “All of you. There’s absolutely nothing to see here.”
They did as they were told as Vincent was hauled away, one or two of them tossing concerned glances in Vincent’s direction as he was led outside.
Vincent was nervous. He knew that this wasn’t how they went about bringing a cop in on charges.
They’re up to something.
I gotta rally.
I gotta think.
Riley led the group to Messer and Hoyt’s parked car near the front of the building. Riley opened the door, Messer shoved Vincent inside and shut the door behind him, then the three of them spoke off to the side as Vincent tried to make out what they were saying, but their backs were turned.
Riley, Hoyt, and Messer spoke for a couple of minutes before Hoyt and Messer got inside the car, Messer behind the wheel and Hoyt seated directly in front of Vincent in the passenger’s seat.
“Sit back,” Messer ordered Vincent. “And
don’t move a goddamn muscle.”
Vincent complied, his mind spinning in circles as Messer pulled the car slowly out of the parking lot. They then made a right out of the station, heading far away from the building and down the highway. Exactly in the opposite direction of Rubyville.
28
As the trio drove down the road, an eerie silence took over as the houses became sparse and nothing, but highway and cornfields surrounded them on all sides.
They’re not going to Rubyville, Vincent thought. Not by a long shot.
He weighed his options, trying to figure out an angle as he looked around the car, trying to spot an opening. He couldn’t jump out. The car was going too fast.
There was no way of telling if Hoyt or Messer had guns, so he couldn’t just assault them with his hands tied behind his back, but he had to do something, anything to escape.
He cleared his throat. “I know what’s going on,” he said.
Hoyt and Messer gave each other a look. “That so?” Hoyt said.
Vincent nodded. “Very much so. I wasn’t born yesterday. I was calling you guys out at the station. I know what you’re going to do.”
A brief, but very telling moment of silence.
“And what’s that?” Messer said.
Another pause.
“You’re going to kill me.”
Hoyt and Messer gave him nothing.
“Oh, come on,” Vincent said. “It’s obvious. We’re not driving anywhere near the direction of Rubyville. Also, like I said before, you guys can’t just haul me in and read my Miranda rights, which we both know you’ve clearly violated anyway. Where’s the part where I have the right to an attorney?”
Vincent noticed the growing tension on both of their faces.
“You are going to provide me that, right?” Vincent said. “Aren’t you? Or maybe you’re just going to take me to someone who will.”
Another pause from Hoyt and Messer, nothing but the sound of the engine filling the air around a car that was become more tense by the second.
“I just want to know one thing,” Vincent said.
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