by King, Asha
“Repeatedly. And choked, possibly to the point of unconsciousness. No prints, possibly gloves, but the killer has large hands. Definitely male. Cause of death wasn’t the water, but blunt force trauma. Lacerations and puncture wounds on her abdomen were post-mortem. Overkill, rage-like. He might not have realized she was dead before he started stabbing her.”
It didn’t take a TV profiler to put this one together. Crime committed by a man, probably a sadist. Extreme hatred for both this woman and possibly women in general. And from what she gleaned from Harry’s notes on the Cooper-Archer murder years ago, this one was a match.
“Any idea where the body was dumped from?” she asked, pleased that her voice didn’t shake as badly as she expected it to.
“Not that I’ve heard, but unless they bring in samples of things to be tested, I wouldn’t know what the police are thinking.” The morgue assistant reached for the white sheet again, pausing.
Tash nodded her agreement and glanced away as the body was covered again. She’d definitely seen enough. Ice ran through her veins, sobering her completely from anything else she’d been thinking. Guilt over upsetting Devin Archer? Screw that.
She was going to nail this bastard with the murders once and for all.
Chapter Nine
Natasha sat in her office Monday afternoon with just the womp womp of the ceiling fan punctuating the silence. She’d had another call from a potential client that morning but put it off, scheduling him for later in the week. Malone’s old files still sat on the floor untouched—she had a million things to do but no desire to work on any of them.
Before her sat phone logs she’d pleaded for from over in Hastings County. It turned out the phone company representative knew Malone from way back and though it required enduring forty minutes on the phone with the guy, eventually she got what she wanted: Deborah Ann Walker’s cell phone records.
The local police likely had them as well and probably hadn’t found anything more than she did—no obvious link to Devin Archer. She was working with the theory that Walker hadn’t been randomly chosen but targeted. Archer, after all, had to know he’d be the prime suspect. He wouldn’t take a risk—he’d watch her, stalk her, and only make a move at the right time. First step was finding Walker’s routine; next was seeing how Archer intersected with it.
Tracking down the owners of the various numbers she called, however, was turning into a nuisance. People paying to be unlisted made it really difficult to be a snoop.
The bell over the front door jangled but Natasha was barely aware of it—it wasn’t until steps sounded in the hall that she looked up.
Adam Cooper strolled in, looking big and awkward in her tiny office space. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and hunched his shoulders, giving her a small smile. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Immediately she rolled her chair over to retrieve a fresh bottle of cold water from the mini-fridge and tossed it his way, in apology for her still non-working air conditioner.
Adam caught the bottle, stepped carefully around the papers, and lowered himself into the chair opposite her. Before taking a drink or even speaking, he pulled a white envelope from his back pocket and cast it on the desk in front of her.
She pulled open the flap and glanced inside—all cash. And a lot of it. “Adam—”
“I realize you’re putting off other clients. Don’t argue.”
She zipped her mouth shut, but with considerable effort.
“How goes it?”
Tash sighed and her chair squeaked as she leaned back in it. “Well, he doesn’t really do much besides travel between the bungalow he’s renting and the old house where he seems to be readying for sale. I’ve asked around town about where he’s been since arriving. He’s been to the hardware store and garden center a few times. The grocery store and convenience store once each. Saturday night he went to Eight’s but wasn’t welcome there.”
“Yes.” Adam’s voice took on a harder edge. “And so were you.”
Shit. “I can explain.”
“I told you not to get too close—”
“I saw an opportunity since he didn’t know who I was yet. Unfortunately, he made me. Well, he thinks I work for the paper, but—”
Adam leaned forward, his brow furrowed with a mix of concern and anger. “He made you? Are you okay or—”
“I’m fine. He just got growly, stormed off in his truck. Didn’t lay a hand on me.” Of course, she’d stupidly kind of wanted him to at the time, but that was long over now and no way was she confessing that to Adam. “Unfortunately we didn’t have much of a conversation. I was hoping to get a handle on where else he might go. I went over everything at the morgue yesterday, then staked out his house until one in the morning, checked again before coming into work, and here I am. Mostly I’ve just seen him working around his house.”
“Chelsea’s house,” Adam corrected.
Tash winced but nodded. The witness statements she’d read about the couple said as much—technically the house belonged to both him and Chelsea, but she kicked him out and had been living there a month on her own. Of course upon her death it went to him but that hardly mattered to Adam. “It looks as though he’s planning to sell. Doing repairs, shuffling around boxes inside. The realtors in town both said he’s inquired about selling the house and surrounding property. None of them would do business with him.”
Adam smiled vaguely, sadly. “Chelsea had a lot of friends here.”
“Presumably he’ll either try to sell privately or look elsewhere for help. Because of that, I don’t have a timeframe for how long he’ll be in town, so I’m focusing entirely on this case right now.”
He nodded. “I thank you and appreciate it. But no more close encounters. I don’t want you in danger.”
Despite implications to the contrary, she didn’t really think Devin Archer would hurt her. He’d been seen speaking to her—it would be too easily tied to him. No way would he risk it.
Would he?
“I’ll be careful,” she promised.
He gave her a stern look that said precisely how much he believed that, then rose with a promise to check in soon and left.
Within two minutes of Adam walking out the door, Tash’s cell phone rang.
She hesitated for a moment, but clients normally called the office, not her personally, as they were used to looking for Malone. She swiftly lifted the buzzing phone from her desktop and answered. “Hello?”
“Is he there? He’s there, isn’t he?”
Tash leaned her elbows on the table and sighed. “Dani.”
“Just tell me what he’s sneaking around for. Is he proposing? Oh my God, have you seen the ring?”
Damn it. She wanted to bang her forehead against the desk. “There’s no ring or proposal. And that’s all I can tell you.”
“Is he having an affair? Oh shit, is it you? It’s because I’m the size of a bus right now, isn’t it? It’s—”
“Irrational pregnancy hormones, Dani. Chill.” Tash sat up straight, sighing. “Seriously, I can’t talk about what it is, but none of the above.”
Silence ticked by as Danyiah thought about it. “Does it have anything to do with why he’s trying to keep me in the house and being all broody alpha?”
Of course, Adam would be about as subtle as a brick for this kind of thing. “He’s just trying to be careful.”
“He’s giving me extra farm duties to keep me busy. Oh, not difficult ones. No heavy lifting, no strenuous activity. Oh no, he’s basically made me farm manager. I’m to sit on a damn chair—a comfy one, at that, as he dragged out an armchair of Gus’ and set it on the porch—and ‘supervise.’ Like people who’ve been there longer than I have don’t know what they’re doing. I can’t go to town alone, he double checks the locks constantly. Does this have something to do with the woman’s body found on Saturday? Was she a snarky pregnant blogger?”
No getting around this, apparently. “No, she wasn’t a snarky pregnant blogger, but yes
, that’s what this has to do with. He’s just paranoid. Indulge him.”
“I’m going stir crazy. I’ll tolerate it but you and me have to go out sometime this week. Please.”
“Sure thing. Pick a night and I’ll be there.”
“Will do.” Dani sighed heavily, dramatically. “Guess I’d better go supervise some more. See ya.”
Tash hung up and seriously had to wonder what Adam was thinking when he expected to keep this from Dani. He didn’t want to worry her, just wanted to take care of his family—she knew this—but considering it was Dani he was dealing with, he had to know it wouldn’t end well.
She set her phone aside and went back to sorting through the records in front of her, determined to get a chunk of work done before she headed back out for surveillance again. The sooner she found evidence against Archer, the better.
****
Lumber rattled in the back of the truck as a tire hit a bump. Devin eased up on the accelerator. He’d strapped supplies down well in the truck bed but these country roads could become roller coasters and he didn’t want to risk losing something. Then he’d have to go out again and he was avoiding that as much as possible.
A large paper bag of groceries was jostled around the passenger seat beside him. He used to love to cook but there was just no shopping in a small town grocery store, and carting frozen foods from county to county in this heat seemed out of the question as well. So he had a bag of crap from the convenience store near the hardware place. Cans of overpriced soup, a few frozen dinners, loaf of bread, and peanut butter. Already he was going stark raving mad on that diet, but some whiskey to wash it down at night numbed his thoughts considerably.
Instead of taking the road straight home, he turned west, driving through fields of wheat and corn, sprawling farmland dotted with trees and barns. Dairy cows grazed in fields and horses bathed in the sun. He slowed twice for chickens and had half a mind to head up to the owner’s house to lay into them about not fencing their yard. But that would likely be taken the wrong way around here coming from him, so he was careful to avoid the birds before speeding along again.
A farmhouse waited up ahead, at the end of a long, winding driveway. He turned the truck that way, passing the electrified wire fence that ran along the perimeter of the vast property. It wasn’t a high voltage, just enough that animals sensed the electricity and steered clear.
A white, two-story farmhouse sat on an incline. The sign out front advertised Dr. Mark Goodwin’s large animal veterinary practice. He went directly to farms rather than take clients at his place, for the most part, so he likely wasn’t home, but Devin wasn’t planning on running into him anyway. Just a quick drop off before returning home.
As he reached the front of the house, however, he spotted the blue SUV parked around back. Still, Mark could be anywhere—
The front door opened and Devin sighed.
He cut the engine, grasped the envelope from the dashboard, and popped open the car door.
Mark walked down the porch steps toward him, an Australian Shepherd trailing him immediately. The dog didn’t bark, but watched Devin warily, remaining just behind his master at the ready.
“Devin,” Mark said in greeting, tipping his head in a nod.
Devin took just a few steps from the truck to meet him, reluctant to go much farther, and extended the envelope toward the vet. “Sorry it’s late but that covers August too. We’ll go back to checks in September, I should be gone by then.”
Mark hesitated a moment before accepting the envelope. He didn’t look inside—if he distrusted Devin with its contents, he at least had the class to not show it. Instead he folded the envelope and stuffed it in the back pocket of his jeans. “Are you really in a rush?”
Though he’d been stepping back to the truck, Devin halted. “I’ve been busy.”
“Don’t you want to see how she’s doing?”
Devin shook his head, continued for his vehicle. “I trust you.”
“Devin—”
“I’ll try to come by another day.” He opened the car door, climbed inside, and gave the keys a twist again. Though Mark watched him, his dog sitting at his side, he made no call of protest.
Shame rose, though Devin tried to stuff it down again. He paid board and bills. He did his part. No other reason to stick around, to grind more salt in the wound.
Things were better for everyone when he stayed away.
****
Natasha ducked down in the tall grass, hoping her dark sunglasses weren’t obvious. She watched Archer head back down the driveway, sun cutting brightly over his dark red truck. At the end of the driveway, he went left and continued down the original road he’d been driving. Good, he wouldn’t see where she parked Malone’s car. Odds were, with everything he had piled up in the back of the truck, he was headed home. She could steal a few minutes to figure out what in the hell he’d been doing at Mark Goodwin’s house.
She crept along the tall grass that edged the yard, moving in a half-crouch. After Mark went in she could casually stroll up and maybe ask—
His black and white dog growled in her direction before Mark could go anywhere. The veterinarian looked her way, squinting against the sun. “Natasha? Is that you?”
Shit.
Tash stood and smiled brightly. “Hey there, Mark.”
“What the hell are you doing skulking around my house?”
“Um...” She trudged through the grass, squatted and shuffled under the humming wire fence, brushed off her jeans, and strolled over. The dog had quit barking and he leaned his head forward when she reached them so she could scratch around his ears. “Long story.”
Mark eyed her in silence. “You were following Devin Archer.”
“Uh, maybe. Why’d he come here?”
He shook his head and turned, heading back toward the house. The dog followed immediately, tail wagging madly. “Just leave him alone.”
“Can’t. Work thing.” She raced after him, darting into his path to slow him down, and widened her eyes pleadingly. “Come on, you gotta tell me. He doesn’t go anywhere in town but public places, has no friends. How do you fit in?”
Mark stopped and stared down at her sternly. He was in his late thirties and just as much a fixture of Stirling Falls as Malone was—there was basically one large animal vet in the area and he was it. She didn’t have any livestock, only knew him to see him in town, but he was a tall, good-looking guy with kind eyes and dark hair often in need of a haircut. Everyone liked him, including Adam, as far as she knew, who probably didn’t know Mark and Devin were friendly.
He gave her a lingering look, and then lifted his chin to indicate the house. “Around back. Come on.”
The dog trotted at his side as Mark walked. Tash walked a few steps behind, taking her time to glance around the property. Other than to drive by, she hadn’t been near his practice before. A vegetable garden ran along the side of the house, glistening after being freshly watered. Her sunglasses colored the greenery around her sepia. A barn, likely red, sat in the distance. A pair of cows grazed, a goat drank from the large old claw-foot tub used as a trough, and chickens clucked in the large pen in the shade at the back of the house.
Mark stopped and nodded ahead, where a wood fence and gate cut around the barn. “There. See?”
Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the fields and then she saw it—a big blond mare headed toward them in greeting.
“Archer has a horse?”
“His wife did. Two. See?” Again he nodded and trailing the first horse, saw another. They were both enormous, eighteen or nineteen hands at least. Mark slowly stepped up to the fence and she joined him, just as the mare met them. The horse went straight for her, her velvety muzzle brushing her palm. “She was involved in a draft rescue group and coordinated in this area. A lot of these horses, usually Belgians and some Clydes, are used for pullers, pushed ’til they’re crippled up and no good. Others, like this one, just aren’t built for work. See, her chest is narro
w, feet have never been in great shape. Chelsea got her from an auction where she was going for meat, just two-hundred and fifty dollars. Pregnant, she found out later.”
The price of horses these days was insanely low. Couldn’t give them away and most ended up being rounded up by meat dealers. Tash shuddered at the thought—she’d ridden a lot as a kid, missed it now, and had nothing but respect for such gentle creatures.
“That was a few weeks before she died,” Mark continued. “She found homes for most horses but this one she kept, was the only one she had on the property. She was so looking forward to the birth but she missed it. Devin didn’t want the horses going for meat, didn’t trust most places, so has boarded them here ever since.”
That...did not sound like a serial killer, actually. The sudden flare of sympathy she had for him was impossible to clamp down on.
“You know,” she cleared her throat as she felt like something was caught in there, “everyone in town thinks Devin Archer is a killer. Adam thinks he killed his sister.”
“So?”
“So, do you have reason to believe they’re wrong?”
Mark leaned on the fence, staring out the field. “It’s a small, close-minded town, Tash. You know how rumors twist.”
Still, there wasn’t something not quite right about Archer. There had to be some reason they all went after him, despite the obvious “the husband did it” mentality. Perhaps besides following him round and catching up on the cases, she’d have to dig a little deeper. Now that she thought about it, nothing in Harry’s articles or the information he’d gleaned from the police investigation into Chelsea’s murder explained why Archer had been the one and basically only suspect they’d started and stopped with.
Hmm.
She trailed her fingers over the horse between her eyes as she nuzzled—and drooled over—her shoulder. Killers weren’t necessarily entirely emotionless, after all. Maybe guilt drove him to ensure his wife’s rescued horses continued to be cared for.
