The Killer You Know

by Kimberly Van Meter

  Silas found himself at The Pier, and as he sat at the bar, nursing a beer, he tried to let his mind quiet, if only for a blessed minute.

  He should’ve handled Lester with more finesse. Poking at anyone’s ego was a fast track to disaster but he’d been so angry that Lester was ignoring key evidence that his mouth had popped off.

  That wasn’t his MO. Usually, he was known for keeping it together, even under extreme stress, but there was something about this town that collapsed his ability to compartmentalize.

  His gut said they were close to something big. But the clues were ephemeral, dancing in and out of the light without substance.

  Sure, catching Pastor Simms with his pants down was a win but as much as he’d like to pin Rhia’s death on the man, he had a feeling Pastor Simms did not, in fact, kill the girl.

  Maybe Simms really did feel as if he loved her—not that it justified his actions—but if that was true, what would his motive be for killing her?

  What if Simms really did love Rhia Daniels and the paternity came back as a match, that would mean Simms had lost the woman he loved and his child.

  None of those variables added up to murder.

  And there was absolutely no correlation between Simms and Spencer or Sara Westfall.

  Silas swore under his breath and downed his beer, signaling for another when an older woman with dyed platinum hair in a high ponytail sat gingerly on the stool beside him.

  “You’re that FBI agent, right?” she said, her gaze darting.

  “Yeah,” he answered, withholding a sigh. He didn’t want to talk to locals. He just wanted to enjoy his beer, get a nice buzz and go sleep it off. “And you are?”

  “Can I talk with you?”

  “About?”

  “Not here,” she said, pursing her lips slightly. “Your hotel room.”

  Silas smothered a groan. He didn’t have time to deal with this. “Look, I don’t want to hurt your feelings but—”

  “I’m not interested in screwing you,” she cut in, lowering her voice. “I have information that you might want.”

  That changed things a bit. “Such as?”

  “I’ll be at your hotel in ten minutes.” And then she left.

  Cryptic and annoying, he thought regretfully as he stared down at the remainder of the beer that he wouldn’t get to finish. Tossing cash onto the bar, he decided to see where this would take him.

  True to her word, the woman was there, in the shadows, waiting for him. The fact that she knew where he was staying was a little creepy but he let that slide.

  He opened the door and she slunk past him, motioning for him to shut the door quickly.

  “Okay, you got me here. Now, what are you so afraid of telling me?” he asked, curious. “First, who are you?”

  “My name is Jessa Almasey. My daughter was Rhia’s best friend.”

  “Why are you here, Jessa?”

  “It’s about Rhia. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want Britain to get mixed up in all this, but I can’t keep quiet any longer. Before I say anything I want you to know that I loved that kid like my own. She could talk to me in a way that she couldn’t with her own mother and I would never dream of breaking her trust, but I feel I have to tell you what I know.”

  “Please do,” he said, listening with laser focus. “I’m all ears.”

  “I’m not sure where to start...”

  “How about I help you out?” Silas didn’t have time to mess around. “Did you know Rhia was sleeping with the pastor?”

  Jessa looked miserable. “I knew she had a terrible crush on him but I wasn’t aware they were sleeping together, though it doesn’t surprise me. Rhia had a way of getting what she wanted from people.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She was...persuasive. Maybe a little too spoiled for her own good. I tried my best to guide her but she was a wild child. I worried about her. She thought it was fun to poke at certain people.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Rhia...she...well, at first I thought it was just silly high school stuff but then I realized she was playing mean games with people in town.”

  Impatience sharpened his tone as he said, “What kind of games? With who?”

  “Last year Rhia won an amateur photography contest. It was all over the newspapers and even a few regional ones and everyone was so proud of our little Rhia. But one night I overheard Rhia talking to Britain, telling her that the photos hadn’t been hers. She’d taken the credit for someone else’s work.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. But she wasn’t the least bit sorry about it. In fact, she said whoever she had over a barrel would do just about anything to keep his secret. She thought it was funny.”

  “Did you talk to Britain about it?”

  “I tried but Britain just waved away my concerns, saying that Rhia had been kidding and that I shouldn’t eavesdrop.”

  “Did you tell her parents?”

  Jessa shook her head. “No, I didn’t want to ruin our relationship. You have to understand, I’m a single mom, trying to do the best that I can, and my daughter is my life. I wasn’t going to do anything to come between her and her best friend.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the sheriff when Rhia died?”

  “It seemed wrong to smear the poor girl’s memory. It was bad enough that she died. I was prepared to just let her rest in peace.”

  “So what changed your mind?”

  Jessa licked her lips. “I’m afraid for Britain. What if whoever hurt Rhia comes after Britain because they were friends? Everyone already believes they were joined at the hip. It’s a natural assumption that Britain might know Rhia’s secrets. The more I thought about it, the more scared I became.”

  “Why all the secrecy?” he asked.

  “Because this is a small town,” Jessa answered. “People talk. I didn’t know who I could trust. Everyone knows everyone else. I just want this to be over. I’m thinking of taking Britain and moving to Seattle. My parents live there. Maybe a fresh start is what we both need.”

  “Do you know whose photography she stole?” he asked, watching her keenly. The woman was practically vibrating with anxiety.

  She nodded.

  “Who?”

  “Leo Jackson, the owner of Looking Glass.”

  Silas narrowed his gaze as the import of what Jessa had just shared sank in.

  Quinn’s uncle.

  Ah, hell.

  Could “X” stand for Leo?

  Chapter 27

  Quinn returned home, still angry, but her temper was slowly cooling. She knew Silas had acted out of concern and he wasn’t the kind of person to stand by and do nothing when he knew someone was in danger.

  She liked that quality about him.

  But what really tipped the scale against him was that he’d done so without taking her feelings into consideration. She’d expressly asked him to let her take care of Harrison but he’d ignored her request, doing what he felt was right in spite of her wishes.

  Was that a major character flaw? Was Silas a misogynist who secretly thought women were weak and frail creatures?

  Silas would learn that she may be small but she was a firecracker.

  Quinn walked to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. She wasn’t a big drinker but she needed something to take the edge off.

  For every step they took in the right direction, something shoved them two steps back.

  The frustration was enough to choke a horse.

  Uncle Leo wasn’t back from the shop yet so she had time to formulate her questions. It was bad enough that she had had to break the news to Uncle Leo about Pastor Simms; she had no idea how he would react to her questioning about Lester, his best f
riend.

  A strange sound came from Uncle Leo’s office and she realized the fax machine was jammed again. She’d tried to convince Uncle Leo to buy a new machine but he liked to hold on to things and resisted change.

  She flipped the light and went to the old machine, opening the top and pulling the paper free that was stuck in the rollers. Quinn threaded the paper back through the rollers and went to the computer to restart the feed.

  Uncle Leo had his email linked to the fax machine because he hated reading on the small screen, saying he preferred to read his emails on paper.

  She went to log on but found the computer already on. Quinn smiled, knowing her uncle must’ve left it on before leaving for the shop.

  “So absentminded,” she murmured with a chuckle as she opened his email program to reset the fax. Finished, she went to log off but her eye caught a different folder on the desktop. Uncle Leo wasn’t very organized but he was fastidious about his computer desktop.

  It was simply labeled “Them,” which was an odd choice for a folder.

  Curious, she double-clicked to see what was in the folder.

  Quinn blinked as she realized it was filled with photos. Not odd for a photographer, but what she saw caused her belly to cramp as her breath caught.

  Pictures of boys.

  Young boys.

  Naked.

  She covered her mouth to keep from throwing up.

  A familiar photo jumped out at her.

  One of the Thailand orphans with the sad eyes.

  Only this time the boy was posed provocatively, wearing a fake smile but his eyes remained the same—reflecting a broken soul.

  “No,” she breathed, unable to believe what she was seeing.

  She quickly clicked through more.

  What remained of her last meal was threatening to bubble up in her throat.

  What was she looking at?

  She couldn’t reconcile what she was seeing with what she knew of her uncle.

  The man who had loved her, taken her in when her parents died, the man who was a kindly bear of a man who never had a cross word or a bad thing to say about anyone...

  A horrified sob erupted as she continued to click through the photos. Why didn’t she stop? She couldn’t. Her finger kept dragging her through each file until she thought she might faint from the breath she was holding.

  But one set of photos was different.

  A smiling boy, a gap-toothed grin, wearing a Port Orion Bluejay baseball jersey against a backdrop she recognized as Seminole Creek.

  “Oh, God...”

  Spencer had been wearing that same shirt when he’d been found. Quinn remembered the detail from the crime scene photos.

  Why did Leo have pictures of Spencer Kelly?

  And then she nearly vomited.

  Spencer, eyes closed, his mouth slack as a tiny stream of blood seeped from the corner, deep red hand prints circling his windpipe.

  “No. No. Noooooo...”

  She rose on shaky legs to use the restroom. This couldn’t be happening. This had to be a nightmare.

  Quinn fell to her knees and retched, her stomach heaving as she puked her guts out.

  She fell to her behind, her head resting on the cool surface of the bowl as she fumbled to flush the toilet.

  What the hell was happening?

  Uncle Leo wasn’t capable of the filth she saw in that file.

  But why else would he have it in a secret file titled, “Them”? She’d been on his desktop a million times before. Why was it there now?

  The odd expression on Leo’s face the other night came back to her. He’d wanted to tell her something.

  Was this it?

  Had he been ready to confess?

  If he had, he must’ve chickened out and tried to collect evidence to get rid of it.

  Leo must’ve been moving files and forgotten it was on the desktop. Lately, he’d become more absentminded, preoccupied.

  Now his behavior seemed suspect.

  Everything seemed suspect.

  And what was she supposed to do with this information? If she told Silas, he would arrest Leo.

  The details of the arrest would spread like wildfire.

  The headlines would read, “Local Photographer Caught With Child Porn” and it would kill her.

  But wasn’t it her duty to report him?

  Did Lester know about her uncle’s perverse appetites?

  And the biggest question...did this discovery mean that Leo had killed Spencer, Sara and Rhia?

  Please, God, no.

  * * *

  The following morning Silas awoke to a quiet knock on his hotel room door. He rose to find Quinn, her eyes swollen, her nose red, and he thought the worst.

  “Did Harrison hurt you?” he asked, ready to shoot the man in the balls.

  But Quinn shook her head and reached into her purse to hand him a flash drive.

  “What’s this?”

  Her voice was strangled as she said, “The break in the case we’ve been hoping for.”

  Silas accepted the drive and motioned for her to come in. Expressionless, she walked over to sit on the bed. Quinn had lost all of her fire, which scared him.

  “What’s on this drive?”

  But she couldn’t form the words.

  “Quinn...what is this?”

  The tears started fresh. She dropped her head into her hands and started sobbing. “All night, I played those images in my head and I didn’t know what to do. I love him. He raised me but I-I don’t know why he has these pictures. I don’t kn-know what to do. This will ruin him.”

  Silas plugged the drive into his laptop and clicked the folder.

  His spirits sank as he realized what he was looking at.

  The shock was written all over Quinn’s face—she’d had no idea. But people with secrets were adept at hiding what they didn’t want people to know.

  “There are pictures of S-Spencer on there,” she whispered.

  His heart stopped and he had to force himself to click through the photos until he found the ones of his little brother.

  Smiling, wearing his Bluejays shirt, unaware that his life would end that day.

  Tears blinded him as rage whipped through him. He tried to tamp it down so he could think straight. He needed a warrant. He needed to call his brothers. He needed...his gaze went straight to Quinn and realized what he needed to do the most was be there for the woman who’d just lost everything in her world.

  Ignoring his need to arrest Leo right then and there, he went to Quinn and gathered her into his arms to hold her tight. She clung to him, still sobbing.

  “How could I not have known?” she cried.

  Silas smoothed the wild red of her hair. “Because he didn’t want you to know.”

  “But I should’ve sensed something, should’ve realized something was wrong. All those pictures of kids...that’s why he goes to Thailand? He told me he was volunteering at an orphanage! I want to throw up. I did throw up! And I want to throw up some more. I want to scream. I want to demand answers but I’m afraid of knowing the truth. What if he killed all those people, Silas? What if my uncle is someone I never knew at all?”

  “Let’s take this one step at a time,” he said softly. “Your uncle needs help.”

  “He’s n-never touched me that way. Never done anything inappropriate with me. I-I don’t understand.”

  The files were all of boys. Quinn had to know what that meant.

  “I’m going to have to go to Lester and tell him. After the fit he threw over the pastor, I doubt this information is going to go over any better.”

  “What’s going to happen to my uncle?”

  “He’s going to be arrested,” he answe
red as gently as he could. “A search warrant will be issued for his home.”

  “My home, too,” she reminded him in a stark whisper. “People will be going through our things, like we’re criminals.”

  He knew there was no way to soften the blow. Quinn was shell-shocked as it was; what was coming would put her over the edge.

  Silas wanted to be there for her but he also needed to get the ball rolling. “Did your uncle know you’d seen this file?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I put everything back the way it was and went to my room. By the time he came home, my door was closed and he assumed I was asleep. But I couldn’t sleep. How could I? I’m lost right now, Silas. What am I going to do?”

  “Stay here. I don’t want you to watch your uncle get arrested,” he told her. “The things that are about to go down... I don’t want you to get hurt any more than you already have.”

  “I can’t avoid what’s coming,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “I work for the newspaper. This is fresh blood in the water. The headlines...”

  “Stop thinking that way. Take it one step at a time. But in the meantime, I want you to stay here, okay?”

  She nodded but he wasn’t sure she was listening. Her stare had glazed and her reactions dulled. With any luck, she’d crash for a few hours, at least. Rest would help clear the thought process.

  And she’d need her wits about her.

  Things were about to get ugly.

  Chapter 28

  Silas walked into Lester’s office with a somber expression that immediately set his whiskers on edge.

  “Did you come to apologize?” he asked gruffly.

  “No, sir.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “I came to let you know I am arresting Leonard Jackson for the murder of my brother, Spencer Alexander Kelly.”

  The breath left his chest. “What?”

  “We’ve found evidence connecting your friend to Spencer’s death as well as evidence that he may have been involved with Rhia’s murder, as well. As a courtesy, and out of respect for you, I came to tell you first.”

  “Leo Jackson? Are you sure about this?”

  “Positive.”