by M. Z. Kelly
We continued on toward the harbor, the road hugging the rugged coastline. The night was bright with a crescent moon illuminating the breaking waves. The area was beautiful, and, even under the present circumstances, it stirred the romantic in me.
The serene setting also made me think about Buck, how little I really knew about him. The night had confirmed for me that we were attracted to one another, but I also knew that if we were going to take our feelings any farther I needed to know more.
I turned to him. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
He met my eyes and smiled. “Boxers.”
I laughed. “Thanks for that, but it’s something else.” I shifted my body, angling more toward him. “Were you and Julie ever involved?”
“What?” He laughed. The car drifted to the shoulder of the road and he had to make a quick correction. “Sorry.”
“Well?”
“Not in this lifetime or the last, far as I can recollect. Why would you ask that?”
“We were in the restroom when Marlena Aster fell. She made a comment to me right before…” I laughed. “…she took a little dip in the toilet.”
“What?”
I took a moment, explaining her comment to me, how she was drunk and out of control, and that I’d pushed her.
“Sounds like Julie got what she deserved. And again, just for the record, no, we were never involved. She came on to me a couple of times and I brushed her off. I don’t think she’s ever forgotten it.”
I nodded in relief and then decided to move the conversation to something even more personal. “Your life, before coming to the island. Your marriage…” My gaze drifted away for an instant, then came back to him. “Can you tell me what happened, why it didn’t work out?”
He reached up and loosened his bowtie, removed it, and set it on the console. He cut his eyes to me. “You’re pretty perceptive.”
“I just have a feeling there’s more to the story than what you told me before.”
He took a moment, maybe to gather his thoughts. “As I mentioned, Colleen and I got married out of high school. The first couple of years were great, good times, lots of friends from school and town. But then something changed. At first I thought she was just a little down, maybe unhappy. In time it became worse and she became pretty depressed.” He met my eyes. “As it turned out Colleen was bipolar.”
I nodded, knowing from my dealings with suspects over the years who’d suffered from the illness, that it was very difficult, both for the victim and the families. “Did she get help?”
“There were lots of doctors and some meds that she didn’t want to take. Over time the highs got higher, the lows got a lot lower until we drifted apart. She up and left one day and was living on the streets.”
He released a heavy breath. I had an idea about what was coming next and reached over, touching his arm. “What happened then?”
“I got served with some divorce papers a few months later. Colleen had hooked up with a guy who promised her the world but was a user. Far as I know they split.” His gaze came back over to me for a moment. “I don’t even know where she’s living now.”
I squeezed his arm. “I’m so sorry.” I released my hand, looked away. “You still have feelings for her, don’t you?”
He nodded. “Course. I only want the best for her. Colleen didn’t choose her illness, it chose her.” He paused. Maybe it was just the way the moonlight caught his blue eyes but I thought I saw them taking on a sheen. “My daddy had a saying that, in time, helped me move on. It’s something about moving on up the trail, looking back and remembering where you’ve been, but staying on the path.” He smiled. “Sometimes it seems like all we can do.”
We found the small campground where Jackson Caldwell was reportedly staying about a mile from the small village of Two Harbors. We pulled over, met up with Sloan and the uniforms, and talked about how to proceed.
“He’s supposed to be camping with a member of the motorcycle club,” the lieutenant said. “I don’t think we’ve got much choice but to drive around, see if we can find any motorcycles.” He turned to the uniforms. “I want you to lay back, stay here until I give the go signal. If they see your cruiser they’ll likely make a run for it.”
The campground looked to be full as Buck and I circled through the campsites, followed by the lieutenant. Most of the campers appeared to be in bed for the night with just a few campfires still burning. Even though we were in unmarked cars I knew it wouldn’t take a genius to make us as cops.
The road turned and we were circling through the last campsites in the park when we heard the roar of a motorcycle engine. We then saw a single headlight coming down the road in the wrong direction. It was headed straight for us.
Buck swerved, cursing as we barely missed the oncoming cycle when it zoomed past us. “Son of a bitch.”
We radioed the patrol car but were told it was too late. “He cut through a closed off section of the campground and disappeared,” one of the uniforms said. “We’re still searching but there’s no sign of him.
I turned to Buck. “He might be gone, but whoever he was staying with could still be here.”
We headed back down the road a few yards and spotted a man moving toward a motorcycle. Buck pulled our car in behind him, put on the car’s bright lights, and we came out of the car with our guns out.
“Leave it right there,” Buck said.
The man put his hands in the air and walked away from the cycle. He looked to be about forty and was big with long hair and a full beard. Sasquatch came to mind as we questioned him after Sloan joined us.
“Where’s Caldwell?” Buck asked after the man handed over a driver’s license with the name, Gerald Moss.
“Don’t know. I went for another beer and by the time I got back he was gone.” Moss went on to tell us where Caldwell lived, something we already knew, and that he’d met him on a motorcycle ride a few years ago. “We stayed in touch from time to time. Yesterday he called and I told him he could stay with me for a few days.”
“Jackson Caldwell is wanted for multiple counts of murder,” I said.
Moss held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t know nothing about that. I was just letting him camp with me.”
He shook his head, his gaze drifting off. I had the impression there was something else he hadn’t said. “What is it?”
“His name. I never heard anybody call him Jackson before.”
I looked at Buck, back at Moss. “What do they call him?”
“Priest. That’s all, just Priest.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Grace hears Lamech screaming at Maddie and Clara, his voice loud and full of rage. She knows he’s confronting them about Wendy and Sissy having escaped. Then she hears the whine of a motorcycle engine approaching. In a moment, she realizes Priest is also in the house with Lamech.
“Where are the girls?” Priest is suddenly in Grace’s room, his voice strident and angry.
“I don’t know what you mean?” Grace lies, rubbing her eyes to show that she’s been asleep.
“Wendy, the one who was chosen, and your little friend, were in the room next to yours. They’re gone.”
“I heard some sounds but I fell asleep. I’m not sure what happened.”
Priest comes over to her, bends down and slaps her. “You’re lying.”
Grace scrambles away from him, shrinking against the wall. He comes after her, reaching down and striking her again. The blows keep coming until she hears Lamech from across the room. “Bring her into the living room with the others, now.”
When Grace reaches the living room she sees that Maddie and Clara are already there, gathered in front of the fireplace. Clara is crying, probably anticipating that something bad is about to happen. Maddie stares defiantly at the men as Priest roughly pushes Grace down onto the floor.
“Wendy and the other girl are gone,” Lamech says to the gathering, his voice full of anger. “I want to know who’s respo
nsible.”
The room is quiet, except for Clara’s sobs.
“Unless somebody talks you’re all going to pay the price,” Priest says. When there’s still no response he comes over and grabs Clara by the arm, lifting her off the sofa. “I’m going to start with you.”
Maddie is up off the sofa, her arms flailing wildly as she strikes out at Priest. “Leave her alone.”
Priest pushes Clara down, grabs Maddie by the arm and hits her hard. Maddie falls back and goes down. Grace thinks she’s unconscious.
“Let’s talk,” Lamech says, calling Priest over to him.
The two men take a few of steps away from them, toward the kitchen. Their voices are animated and angry. Grace isn’t sure what’s being said, but she thinks they’re arguing.
She cuts her eyes over to the door, making the calculations. It’s less than twenty feet to the front door. She can make it there in less than ten seconds. It will probably take another three seconds to open the door and get away.
But if she runs, Grace knows that means Maddie and Clara will be left behind at the mercy of the two men. Her first thought is that she should stay here and try to help the girls, but then she realizes no one can help any of them. Staying behind means certain death. Her only chance is to get away and get help.
Before the men can turn back to them Grace is off sprinting for the door. The floor is slippery and she goes down, falling against the tile. She pulls herself up, manages to turn the knob and throw the door open, bolting from the house. She sees that it’s dark outside and knows that works to her advantage as she bounds down the steps out into the night.
Behind her, Grace hears voices and knows that the men will be coming after her. Faster now, she tells herself. Every second counts. Her legs are pumping furiously, driving her body forward. When she reaches the dirt road in front of the house she turns and begins sprinting down the road.
There are no other houses here, just the narrow road that disappears into the night like a black ribbon. When she doesn’t see her pursuers following, she slows her pace, trying to decide. There are two choices: stay on the road and risk being caught or run into the woods beyond the perimeter of the electric fence that encircles the house.
The roar of the motorcycle engine makes the decision for her. Grace turns, heading into the woods as the cyclist comes roaring down the road. She moves quickly, hoping to find the deep cover of brush and use the darkness to hide. She sees a little clearing, a place where the brush is less dense. If she can get into the clearing and then go deeper into the woods she thinks she can hide from her pursuer.
Once she’s in the clearing, Grace picks up her pace again. She’s deep into the woods now, the sound of the motorcycle farther away. There’s a ripping sound as her dress catches on a branch. Grace goes down hard, hitting her head on a rock. She’s dazed when she’s finally able to sit up, unsure what to do. Then she looks up, hearing the roar of the motorcycle again and seeing the headlight.
It’s coming straight for her.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Early the next morning Bernie and I went with Buck to Hal Quinton’s house. Clay Aster’s offices had closed and we wanted to catch his former legal assistant before he headed for work at his new job.
I hadn’t gotten much sleep thanks to spending most of the night in a fruitless search for Jackson Caldwell. We decided that our suspect had probably gotten away on a forest service road that led away from the campground. The uniforms went by his mother’s house but she said she hadn’t heard from him.
Marlena Aster’s death was still officially being termed an accident, but the press was all over Sloan and the brass, some of whom had stayed on the island after the ball. The lieutenant told us that his captain unofficially informed him that the FBI could be on the island in a day or two if we didn’t make an arrest.
Buck and I waited at Quinton’s front door after knocking. We saw a curtain move in the window and I got a brief glimpse of Quinton’s son before his father answered the door.
“We need to come in for a minute,” Buck said.
Quinton checked his watch. “I’m late for work…”
Buck stepped across the threshold. “Just take a minute.”
Once inside I glanced around Quinton’s modest home but saw no sign of his son. I remembered Marlena Aster telling us that Quinton took care of his elderly mother. The furnishings were dated, reflecting the tastes of someone older, but I didn’t see any signs of his mother.
“What can I do for you,” Quinton said after we took seats across from him on the living room sofa. Bernie sat at my feet, panting.
Buck held his hat between his knees and leaned in Quinton’s direction. “You might have heard that Marlena Aster was killed last night.”
Clay Aster’s former assistant blinked several times and his mouth fell open. “What…how?”
“She took a tumble from the mezzanine at the Casino during the policeman’s ball. We’re still trying to determine how it happened.”
Quinton looked away, brushed his hands on his dark pants. “Oh my…”
“They’re coming for you next,” I said, playing the cards that we’d laid out before the interview.
“What are you talking about?”
I raised my voice. “Stop playing games. Whoever’s involved in this killing spree has killed your boss, his former partner, and now his ex-wife. You are on the list and unless you start cooperating you’ll be next.”
Quinton blinked several times and his shoulders sagged. He huffed out a breath, rubbing his jaw and looking away from me. “I guess it was a matter of time until everything started to unravel.” His gaze came back over to us. “I want protection.”
“From what?” I demanded. “Tell us what’s going on.”
Quinton stood up and walked over to the window. He glanced at the street and then turned back to us. “I think I know who’s behind the killings, maybe even the kidnappings. His name is Jackson Caldwell.”
“We know about him. Go on.”
“He helped Clay with a situation several years ago.”
“A situation involving Angela Mae Waters?”
“You know?”
“We know how Aster and Brill set up Hopkins to take the fall for her murder, and that Caldwell was also involved.”
He nodded. “Clay and Harvey…they got carried away with the girl. When she got away and left the island, they were afraid she’d talk.”
“And you knew about everything that went on,” I said.
He blinked and shook his head. “No. I only found out about it later. By then it was too late. The girl was dead.”
“And an innocent man went to death row for the killing,” Buck said.
Quinton nodded, hissed out a breath. “It’s unfortunate.”
I wanted to grab Quinton by the throat, tell him he was as guilty as his former boss and Brill for what happened, but I also wanted to get what we could out of him first. “Tell us about Caldwell, his involvement in the Blue Hoods.”
Quinton took a seat across from us again. “After what happened to the girl, Clay decided he wanted out of the games. Harvey wasn’t happy about his decision. He told him there was no way out unless he was willing to pay him to keep quiet. Clay ended up paying thousands, maybe close to a million dollars over the years.”
“So, rather than Brill skimming money from Aster for his gambling debts, their partnership fell apart because Brill was extorting him.”
Quinton nodded. “Marlena also found out about what Clay had done. She filed for divorce and took nearly every cent he had.”
“And Caldwell?”
“When Clay got out of the games Harvey took on Caldwell and somebody else as his partners. I’m not sure who the other party is.”
“Caldwell,” Buck said. “Is he behind the courthouse shooting and kidnappings?”
“Probably. Carly knew about what was happening. She told me that Caldwell was dangerous and controlling, and he wanted Brill to move the games in
a new direction. Brill disagreed and it probably cost him his life.”
“And Aster? Why was he killed?”
“I think Clay was murdered so that he couldn’t talk.” His gaze drifted off as he blinked rapid fire, before looking back at us. “Marlena…she was probably also considered a threat because of what she knew.”
It occurred to me that we hadn’t seen Carly Lucia in a couple of days. It crossed my mind that she might also have been killed and her body just hadn’t turned up yet.
“Tell us what you know about Caldwell,” Buck said.
Quinton fixed his eyes on him, this time not blinking. “My protection?”
“We’ll do everything we can but we need to know everything first.”
Quinton shook his head slowly, giving the impression of resignation. “From what I’ve been told Jackson Caldwell was involved in some kind of cult at one time.”
“What do you know about this cult?” I asked.
“I heard it might have been in Idaho or Utah, someplace like that.”
I was growing impatient. “And?”
“From what I understand he was considered a priest in the cult. They believed in polygamy and he performed the marriage ceremonies.”
I remembered Gerald Moss telling us that everyone in the motorcycle gang called our wanted suspect Priest. We’d just assumed it was a name he’d chosen when he became a member of the club.
Quinton went on, “I’ve heard about the girls who were murdered, how they were dressed as brides. I think it has something to do with what the cult believes. Priest performs the marriage ceremony. Afterward, he and whoever else is involved, kill the girls.”
“Do you have any idea why they murder the girls?”
“All I know is what Carly told me. It had something to do with their belief that Armageddon was coming.”
We questioned Hal Quinton for another hour but didn’t get anything more out of him. Before we left he again asked about getting police protection. Buck said he’d see what he could arrange.
I was less diplomatic and went over to Quinton until I was a few inches from his pasty face. “Just so you know, the blood of all those girls is also on your hands. Never forget that.”
