by Becky Durfee
“Oh, dear,” Jenny said.
“Yeah, he was pretty scared about it. He was afraid of going to jail. His court date was coming up, but I think he never actually had it. He died before it was scheduled to happen.”
Jenny closed her eyes for a moment, warding off the sadness that threatened to compromise her ability to think clearly. Find his killer, she thought. It’s the best thing you can do to honor his memory. “Okay, so next on my list is The Predictor…do you know anything about him?”
“You mean her? She claimed to be able to see the future, but she was full of shit if you ask me.”
“What kinds of things did she predict?”
“The same things you and I could predict. Rain, for instance. It would start to cloud up, and she’d predict that the weather was about to turn bad—but we were high a good deal of the time, so when she proved to be right, we were impressed. Now that I look back on it, though, I realize it was nothing but crap.”
“I get the impression she had predicted a different fate for Eden than what actually happened.”
“Of course she did,” Troy said. “If she could have predicted they’d all end up dead, they would have gotten the hell out of there.”
Jenny had to laugh at the stupidity of her own statement. “Very true,” she said with a giggle. “Okay, this is a sad one, but I’m just looking for confirmation. Did you all call Golden One’s baby Innocence?”
His voice lowered an octave. “Yeah, we did.”
“Good enough,” Jenny said quickly, trying to change the subject as fast as she could. “Who is The Great Seer?”
“The Great Seer…I’d almost forgotten about that. It was our own version of God. We couldn’t believe in the traditional God, mind you, because we couldn’t do anything traditional, so we created our own version of Him. He was The Great Seer, and He loved us and hated cops. Convenient, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so,” Jenny said with a smile.
“He was going to equalize everything; He saw that we were good, honest, hard-working people, and He saw that the police were just a bunch of assholes.”
“When you say He was going to equalize everything…you mean, after you died? Like a Heaven-and-Hell kind of thing?”
“Something like that.”
Jenny nodded with approval when she looked at her list. “Well, I think that just about covers it. Troy, I can’t thank you enough. You have been very helpful.”
“My pleasure, young lady. Just do me a favor…”
“What is it?”
“When you finally prove that Jove is the one who killed those people, give me a call and let me know.”
Jenny decided not to bring up the other side of the coin. “Will do.” She concluded her call, remembering that Kayla had beeped in while she was talking. Glancing at her phone, she saw there was a new voicemail.
“That went well,” Jenny said to Zack as she punched in her passcode.
“Glad to hear it.”
Jenny held the phone to her ear in time to hear Kayla’s frantic voicemail.
“Matthew’s not gone.”
Chapter 17
Jenny stood frozen as she heard Kayla continue. “Devon just got through telling me that we needed to find the lady with the yellow hair. I asked him what lady he was talking about, and he said the one from the fire. I’m so sorry, Jenny, but is there any way you can come back?” Her voice cracked, indicative of tears. “I swear, I can’t do this anymore. I thought he was gone.”
Feeling sick to her stomach, Jenny hung up her phone. Turning to Zack, she asked, “Do you mind if we head back to South Carolina after this? It seems Matthew hasn’t left yet.”
Zack’s face reflected what Jenny felt. “What?”
She sat on the edge of the bed and reiterated what Kayla had said. “That poor woman,” she added with a shake of her head. “What a nightmare.”
“Of course we can go back. When do you want to leave?”
Jenny closed her eyes and sighed. “I’d like to get answers about The Family first, since we’re already here. But as soon as we can, I’d like to head back to help Devon.”
“That sounds okay to me.”
Jenny returned Kayla’s call, letting her know they’d meet her in South Carolina once they wrapped up in Georgia. Kayla expressed gratitude, although she couldn’t win the battle against tears. Jenny found herself fighting the battle as well. If sheer will could have made Matthew cross over, Jenny’s alone would have been enough. At the moment, there was nothing she wanted more.
She hung up with Kayla, her previous good mood deflated. There was a tangible pit in the bottom of her stomach. “Wow,” she said to Zack. “That certainly wasn’t what I expected to hear.”
Zack looked at her with a crooked smile. “Are you going to tell Dr. Wilson about this, or are you going to head back without him? I get the feeling he’s not your favorite character.”
Jenny grimaced. “Is it that obvious?”
“It is to me, but only because I know you so well. I don’t think the others would necessarily notice it.”
Relaxing her shoulders, she replied, “I don’t know what it is about him that bugs me so much. He’s just like fingernails down a chalkboard to me.” She placed her hand on her belly. “I’m blaming Ashley for this. She’s the reason I can’t tolerate him. It’s estrogen overload.”
“Does estrogen make you horny?”
Jenny laughed. “No…testosterone makes you horny, and estrogen eats testosterone.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Yeah, it kind of sucks to be you these days.” Scratching her head, Jenny asked, “Do you remember the website that listed all of the people who died at Eden?”
“In fact, I do. You need me to find it again?”
“Yes, please. Hopefully there’s only one Joe on that list, and maybe we can use it to figure out who this Winding River character was.”
Zack’s fingers tapped and swiped his phone screen. “I found the site,” he said slowly as he concentrated. “Now let me just look for the names…” He read silently for a moment, eventually looking up at Jenny with a big smile. “There is only one Joe; his name is Joe Forte. Do you think that may be our Winding River?”
The mention of the name Joe Forte caused a wave within Jenny. She closed her eyes, allowing an image of a teenage girl to fill her mind. The girl sat on a hay bale, smiling, with the sun reflecting off her blond hair. Her expression showed just how enamored she was as she said, “I love you, Joe Forte.” Her southern accent was thick.
The words echoed around Jenny’s head, swirling, sounding as if they were coming from a million different directions. Warmth filled her body; she was clearly experiencing one of the best memories of Joe’s life. The moment disappeared quickly—too quickly. Jenny found herself wishing she could have it back and hold on to it for just a little longer.
With the image—and the feeling that accompanied it—gone, Jenny opened her eyes and announced, “I most certainly do think we have ourselves a Winding River. Now maybe Kyle can tell us exactly what his story is.”
“Kyle,” Jenny said, “I’m so glad you called.”
“Yeah, sorry it took me so long. I’ve had one hell of a morning.”
“No problem,” she replied. “It’s okay if you haven’t been able to come up with anything for us yet.”
“No, I was able to. I just had to keep tabs on a very slippery husband all morning long. Damn near wrecked my car tailing him, too. Anyway, you asked me for arrest records, and I’m not sure you know what you were getting yourself into. It looks like the people at Eden got arrested every time they turned around. Although, the charges never seemed to stick, and I think I know why.”
“Because they were unfounded?”
“I’m not sure about how unfounded they were, but I was curious enough to look into it. It just seemed odd to me that with so many arrests, nobody was serving any time. Well, it turned out this small town had only one judge—a man by the name of
Thomas Cyr. After a little digging, I discovered he was the uncle of one of the young women at Eden, although she had a different last name than he did. I don’t imagine anybody made the connection, but that explains why very little was done in terms of punishment to the members of The Family.”
Jenny bit her lip. “It appears The Family had a very important ringer on their team. I guess Sheriff Babson had no idea that his arrests would always be futile.”
“That man was fighting a battle he would never, ever win.”
“That kind of makes me laugh,” Jenny admitted. With lowered shoulders, she added, “Although, that inability to pursue charges may have inspired him to ultimately do the unthinkable.”
“That would be awful if it did,” Kyle agreed. “But on a happier note, I did get some information on those people you asked me about—Roger Hillerman and Sheriff Louis Babson. Which one would you like to hear about first?”
“Either. They are both my prime suspects.”
“I’ll start with Roger Hillerman; he appears to be clean as a whistle. The only blemish on his record is a divorce, but when you look at how young he was when he got married, it’s understandable.”
“I certainly can’t hold that against him; I’d be a hypocrite if I did.”
“Aside from that, the only remarkable thing about him was his intelligence. He had an IQ in the genius range.”
With a grunt, Jenny gave that notion some thought. “It makes sense. He clearly had the ability to manipulate people and make them believe he was God-like. In fact,” she continued, “I remember back when I was a teacher, one of my coworkers used to say, ‘there’s nothing more dangerous than an intelligent delinquent.’ This coworker taught high school, and he said the regular troublemakers just did stupid things, but the smart ones had the potential to be calculating about it and make sure they wouldn’t be caught.”
“Well, there’s no doubt that our friend Roger was one of the smart ones, but I’m not sure how much of a delinquent he was. Honestly, the man had no criminal record prior to his time at Eden.”
“And none of the charges he faced with The Family involved violence,” Jenny added. “It would be quite a leap to go from petty theft to mass murder, wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t want to speculate on that,” Kyle said. “I just want to tell you what the facts say.”
Jenny smiled. “Understood.”
“Now, when I looked into the background of your other prime suspect, I find it to be equally as squeaky clean.” She could hear papers shuffle in the background. “It seems Louis Babson was the model citizen. He was a boy scout, played little league, helped little old ladies cross the street and kissed babies. It’s like he was campaigning to be sheriff from the time he could walk.”
“Strangely enough,” Jenny said, “that’s part of what leads me to believe he might have done it. In Bedford, Babsons are supposed to be sheriffs. Actually, sheriffs are supposed to be Babsons. Either way, when he discovered his family’s reign might be threatened by the folks at Eden, he may have gotten desperate. When the traditional means for getting rid of undesirable residents failed, he may have had to up the ante a little bit.”
“I guess anything’s possible.”
“Yes,” Jenny said with a sigh, “anything is possible.”
“Well, before I let you go, I wanted to let you know that I found something else interesting for you, even though I have to admit I don’t understand it.”
Jenny’s ears perked up. “Oh, yeah?”
“On multiple occasions, it appears the police did a sweep, arresting everybody on the property. I repeatedly see forty-seven arrests, forty-seven arrests, forty-seven arrests. However, in one instance, I see forty-eight.”
“Forty-eight? Who else was there?”
“It was a man by the name of Paul Thomas, but I have no idea how he fits into all of this. All I do know is that he went on to have a substantial arrest record long after June of 1968, so he wasn’t among those who died at Eden.”
Jenny mulled that over for a while. “What did he get arrested for? After Eden, I mean.”
“Drugs. Assault. Robbery. Weapons. The list goes on.”
“They had a supplier,” Jenny said as the wheels began to turn in her mind. “He would come to Eden every once in a while and trade his LSD for mushrooms and marijuana.” She decided to leave out the part about bartering for sex. “Maybe he was there one day when the police raided.”
“That sounds plausible.”
“I bet I can find out for sure,” Jenny replied. “Is there any way you can send me a picture of him from his arrest with The Family? Maybe Troy will be able recognize him and tell us who he is, or at least how he fits into all of this. And if it does turn out he is the supplier—and he is still alive—maybe he can tell us if he gave Jove enough Nembutal to kill forty-five people shortly before the tragedy.”
“I’m sure I’ll be able to dig up a picture.”
“Thank you. Again. And while I have you on the phone, can I ask one more favor?”
“Only one?” Kyle was clearly grinning as he spoke.
“Only one right now.” Jenny returned the smile. “Can you please look into Joe Forte a little more? I get the impression that Joe might be the one contacting me.”
“Is he on the list from those who died at Eden?”
“Yup, he sure is.”
“Got it. I’ll see what I can do for you. If you have nothing else for me, I guess it’s time for me to meet with a woman and let her know that she’s married to a scumbag.”
“Yes, that’s the supplier,” Troy said over the phone. Jenny had forwarded the picture of Paul Thomas to him after she’d received it from Kyle. “We called him Bringer of Happiness, although I’m sure the women would disagree with that name. I forgot what an ugly bastard he was. I feel bad that we made the women sleep with him for his drugs.”
“Well, did they have to sleep with him?” Jenny posed. “Couldn’t they have said no if they wanted to?”
“I don’t think so. We all did unpleasant things for the good of the group. This was among the job descriptions for the women.”
Jenny winced but remained professional. “According to a private investigator I work with, Bringer of Happiness got arrested with you one day.”
“I’m sure he did. He was there on a regular basis, so chances are he would have been there during one of the raids.”
“Do you remember him getting arrested with you?”
“No, but we got arrested so damn many times it’s hard to keep them straight.”
“Do you think this guy can give me some insight about Jove’s character?”
“Maybe,” Troy said. “I have no idea how much he remembers. Probably not a ton, considering all the drugs he did. That is, if he’s even still alive. I wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up face down in a ditch somewhere after an overdose of his own.”
“Actually, he’s still alive. When the investigator sent me the picture, he also sent me an update. It seems Bringer of Happiness is fifteen years into a twenty-year sentence at a prison near Atlanta.”
“That sounds about right,” Troy said in his gruff voice, causing Jenny to giggle.
“Well, I guess my next step is that I should go about trying to set up a visit with him. Thanks again for all of your help.”
“I didn’t help you.”
“Sure you did,” Jenny replied with a smile. “You told me who this guy was.”
“Eh,” he said dismissively. “I’m sure you could have figured that out on your own.”
Jenny sat across from Zack in a colorful booth in a Mexican restaurant. The table was decorated with a festive scene covered in glass; she was looking at the image when a glob of salsa fell off her tortilla chip, landing on the very spot she had been admiring. She let out a simple, “Dammit!” before wiping the mess with her napkin.
“Are you sure you should be eating that?” Zack asked. “You remember how you felt after the spaghetti.”
&nb
sp; “Ashley wants it,” she replied, taking an emphatic bite of her chip. She chewed a few times before adding, “And she can be very demanding.”
“Suit yourself, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The couple remained quiet for a short while before Jenny stated, “I hate this part. It’s hurry-up-and-wait. Visiting hours aren’t until tomorrow afternoon at the prison, and Kyle needs some time to do his research about Joe Forte.”
“Well, let’s think about what we can do. We can go back to Eden after dinner, provided you’re not overcome by heartburn.”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
Zack continued, “Or we can start looking into that yellow-haired woman from the train explosion.”
“Ooh, I like that idea.” Jenny flashed him a smile. “Although, I think we can call her blond.”
“Okay, if you insist on being grown-up about it, we can look into the blond woman from the train explosion.” He said the word exaggeratedly, causing Jenny to laugh.
When he pulled out his phone, Jenny announced, “Hang on…I want to see what you’re doing.” She scooched sideways in small increments, trying to squeeze her way out of the booth. It was not an easy task. “Good gracious, my gut hardly fits in this seat.” Finally managing to break free, she sat next to Zack on his side of the booth.
“You know, I could have moved. All you had to do was ask.”
She dismissed the notion with her hand. “So, what are you looking up?”
“The same site I had before. It gave a list of the victims that day, which is how I knew Matthew was thirty-nine-year-old Matthew Ingram.” He concentrated on his phone for a few moments, pressing, swiping and waiting for information to load. Eventually he said, “Here’s the article.” Scrolling down, he added, “It looks like there were only three women among the victims: Sally Marsh, Diane Collins and Jacqueline Crespi.”
