Dark Passing (The Ella Reynolds Series)

by Liz Schulte

  “Wherever Mary was killed had to be fairly secluded. She was kept for a week, and judging by your report, the neighbors would’ve been calling about the smell if she were within the city limits,” Gabriel reasoned and Fagan nodded. “Lakota was obviously moved or you or Ella would’ve heard a wood chipper, which means the killer wanted you to find the body. It was placed directly between the two of you.”

  “That’s assuming the killer dumped the body while we were there,” I said. “I didn’t see or hear anything.”

  “I had the same thought about the location of the murder, but a lot of people own property in the country around here. The list had at least a thousand names. And judging by the temperature of the remains when you found her, relative to the outside temperature and the coagulation of the blood,”—he tapped the spot on the board where the estimated time of death was written—“she very well could’ve been dumped while we were there.

  “Did you see or hear anyone that night?” I challenged Fagan.

  “No.”

  “Even if I concede that the body was dumped while we were there, which I doubt, why?” I asked. “Why would the killer take that risk?”

  “Maybe a distraction? Or a challenge? A warning? I really don’t know.” Gabriel continued to stare thoughtfully at the board, resting casually against a table—like it was the most natural thing in the world to be standing around discussing motive with your girlfriend on a Wednesday night.

  “The killer wanted Mary to be found too. The car had so much gasoline on it, the flames were at least ten feet high. Even if the farmer wasn’t in his field, someone would’ve seen it,” Fagan added.

  “What about Nikki? Why’s she different?”

  “Different how?” Gabriel asked.

  “She’s the only one the killer didn’t make sure was found. Where she was in the alley couldn’t be seen from the road. How was she found?”

  “An anonymous tip from a payphone. She was the only one with narcotics in her system.”

  “We should look closer at Nikki,” Gabriel said and Fagan retrieved her files.

  The guys stewed over the sparse information, and I listened as they talked back and forth about it in police lingo while I continued to look at the board. It was more conducive to my way of thinking—almost like storyboarding. Nikki was my character. I had all of these seemingly random facts that had to fit together. Somewhere in these bits of information was a story. “Why was she in the alley?” I asked out loud, but the question was meant for me. If I could figure out a plausible reason for her to be there, I’d have something to build on.

  “I don’t know, but I can tell you she was killed there. And she fought her attacker. She had defensive wounds here and here.” I glanced at the gruesome picture Fagan was pointing to, then whipped my attention back toward the board. Those pictures definitely didn’t help me think.

  What did people do in alleys at night? Nothing good. She had drugs in her system. She could’ve been there for more. Maybe she was meeting her dealer and someone interrupted them. The dealer got away, but Nikki was bludgeoned to death. “Did she have any drugs on her?”

  “No,” Fagan said.

  Hmmmm. Maybe the exchange hadn’t been made. The only dealer I knew in Jackson was Alfie, which meant he now had ties to all three victims. It wasn’t looking good for ol’ Alfie. “Did you assign an officer to shadow Caleb and Alfie?”

  “I did, but Jeffries couldn’t find Alfie.”

  “What about school?”

  Fagan shrugged.

  Obviously he wasn’t concerned. Was Alfie on the run, or was he a witness and hiding? That was the question.

  “What are you thinking, El?”

  “It’s suspicious that Alfie, a drug dealer and the son of the man Mary was having an affair with, was throwing the party both Nikki and Lakota were at the night Mary died, and now he’s suddenly gone.”

  “I’ll start looking for him tomorrow.” Fagan’s voice was as grave as a man on death row.

  We hypothesized for a while longer, but nothing came of it. Every new idea was shot down by one of us. Finally, my eyes were heavy and I was ready to go home. I lay my head on my arms on the table, and Gabriel rubbed the back of my neck softly with his rough hand.

  “You ready to go?”

  “Mmmhmmm.”

  Gabriel stood, heaving me up with him. Fagan walked with us toward the door and thanked us for our help.

  “Oh, one more thing before I forget. Can I get the file on Cindy Darcey’s death?” Gabriel asked.

  “Wasn’t that an overdose?” Fagan’s brows knitted together.

  “Yeah. It’s probably nothing, but I find it odd that she knew all of the victims, and she’s also dead. I thought I’d take a look, see if anything strange sticks out.”

  “Sure. I’ll have it for you tomorrow.”

  Gabriel nodded and ushered me back to his car. I slid into my seat, images of the dead girls filling my head. Alfie had a connection to each victim, and he had motive for Mary, but why Nikki and Lakota? Lakota obviously knew something, witnessed something, but why would the killer keep her skull? Nikki, on the other hand, didn’t know anything. Her murder was the only one that didn’t feel planned. It was sloppy and that scared me more. A killer who planned his kills didn’t act rashly, and we could possibly predict what would happen next. But one who could fly off the handle at any moment could attack anyone, anywhere. Was the killer at a breaking point? If so, there’d be another body very soon.

  Gabriel was up and going by the time I wrestled myself out of bed. He was in the living room, working on our boards, when I came downstairs. I walked to the kitchen, needing coffee before murder. I filled the biggest mug I owned to the brim and took a couple mouthfuls to open my eyes before I made my cereal and joined Gabriel. I sat cross-legged in the chair and watched him work without comment. He’d erased three of the boards and drawn a horizontal line across the center of each. On the top of one, he wrote Mary.

  “Okay, so what happened first on April 12th?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “Ummm, Lakota was kicked out of Alfie’s party at around 9:00 p.m.”

  “Right.” He made two dashes, one for 8:45 p.m. and one for 9:00 p.m., then scrawled, ‘Lakota kicked out.’ “And Mary left Bryan’s at 9:15 p.m.”

  “Yes—and her phone disconnects at 9:25 p.m.”

  He finished writing and looked back at me. “Is that all we know?”

  “Until her mom reported her missing at 10:45 p.m.”

  “William and Lola were at the dinner party with Fagan until when?”

  I thought back to the information overload of last night. “I don’t think he said.” I sat my bowl next to my coffee on the end table and went to get my purse. Digging out my cell phone, I sent Fagan a quick text. He replied almost immediately. “He says he was there until about 11:00 p.m. or 12:00 a.m.”

  “Okay. We also know that Caleb was in a study group until after midnight, and Nikki was still at the party. Was Alfie there too, or had he slipped out?”

  “Where was the party? Wouldn’t that make a difference? We aren’t playing with a huge amount of time here. If Lakota saw something and Mary went missing at 9:25, they had to be close, right?”

  “One would think.” Gabriel pulled out his own phone and dialed it. I put my cell back in my purse and saw that weird, plain envelope. I opened it and pulled out a sheet of what looked like printer paper with barely legible handwriting on it.

  Ella,

  I intended to come see you. I really did. But I can’t stick around here any longer. Someone knows that I know what happened. I feel them watching me everywhere I go, waiting for a sign. I had a dream that I was killed. I think it will happen, that I’m next. That’s why I have to leave.

  I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, especially not Mary. I need to tell someone, but not the cops. I don’t remember that night very well, only snippets of what happened. I think I was drugged, but I was high and drinking a lot so maybe I did it to my
self. Who knows, but it isn’t really important. I was at a party, and I don’t remember leaving. I do remember waking up in a van, naked, with my hands tied. Someone was driving really fast, or at least it felt fast, but the face is still a shadow to me.

  The van came to a stop; I can’t say where. We sat there and I tried to talk to the person, but it was like I didn’t exist. The driver stared straight out and never spoke or even looked at me. It’s all fuzzy. I may have blacked out, but I don’t know how long. Then suddenly the person got out of the car. I knew that was it. I was a goner. I scooted closer to the door and lifted my feet in the air. When the door opened, I kicked out with all of my strength and connected with someone, but I didn’t look. As soon as I got my legs under me, I ran down the hill toward the road, screaming as loud as I could for help. The road didn’t have many houses, but I kept running, knowing the person had to be right behind me. Mary came around a corner and saw me. I saw her shocked face as she drove past, but then she stopped. I ran to her car, thinking I was saved. I don’t remember what happened after that. I woke up in a field, fully dressed, the next morning.

  I don’t know what happened, but the more I think about it, the more I believe the person always intended to let me get away. I was bait for Mary. I don’t know why or who it was, but hopefully what I told you will help you find the killer. It’s too late to bring Mary back, but maybe you can still save her mom.

  I’m sorry we never got the chance to talk again in person. Don’t come looking for me. You won’t find me and I’m not coming back. Good luck.

  Lakota

  My mouth fell open and I read it all a second time. She wasn’t going to meet me, but obviously she didn’t get out of town fast enough. “Gabriel, you have to see this.”

  He walked over and took the letter from my hand. “What is this?”

  “A letter from Lakota. It was in that mail you picked up for me.”

  He held the letter by one corner and quickly scanned it. “You had this the whole time?”

  “I didn’t know. I didn’t open my mail. I looked at it yesterday, thought it was strange someone sent a letter, but then you came in, and I forgot all about it again.”

  He sat down and reread it more slowly. “I think you just broke the case.”

  “She didn’t see the killer.”

  “No, but now we know the killer drives a van—sounds like a cargo van from her description. If we cross the property search with ownership of a cargo van, we’ll have a much smaller list. But more than that, we can hypothesize that the killer knew Mary well enough to know the route she’d take home, as well as approximately what time she’d be there. Even if Lakota was picked up at 8:45 p.m., there’s only 40 minutes between when she was taken and when Mary was taken; the killer knew her patterns.”

  I let his words sink in. “Why would the killer let Lakota go, just to kill her later?”

  “Maybe he thought Lakota wouldn’t remember anything, but when he saw her talking to you, or heard about it, he changed his mind.”

  “And Nikki?”

  “As you pointed out last night, Nikki was different. I don’t know how she fits in yet.”

  “Let’s go check it out.”

  ****

  Before I took Lakota’s letter at face value, I needed to see for myself if her story made sense. Gabriel and I drove Route 573 looking for possible places they could’ve stopped that gave a view of the road and didn’t have cell phone signal. We came down a steep hill, turned a curve to the right, and were in a low area with trees on one side and a hill featuring a red barn and windmill on the other. I glanced at my phone. No service. I nodded to Gabriel and he slowed down, looking for a driveway or road. As we started up the hill on the other side, I noticed a small driveway, nearly obscured by untouched snow, toward the top.

  “Here,” I said.

  He pulled over and stopped.

  “I can’t drive in. We’ll get stuck.”

  I tucked my pant legs into my boots and zipped my coat, then opened the door. We walked to the top of the hill near the barn and looked out. The road was clearly visible quite a ways. Someone up here could’ve seen Mary coming and still had plenty of time to release Lakota before she made it to the bottom.

  “This would work.”

  “I wonder who owns this farm?” I said, heading for the barn, wanting to see inside, but Gabriel caught my arm. “You can’t go in there. We’re trespassing.”

  “Just a peek.”

  He frowned.

  “Arrest me if you don’t like it.” I pulled away and hiked to barn. Up close, it was in poor condition. The paint was peeling and chipping away in the breeze. The pieces looked like little drops of blood on the snow around it. I leaned my shoulder into the door and pulled, but it barely moved an inch. I wrapped both hands along the edge and yanked. It slid a little further. The sun gleamed through spaces between the boards, giving the room a glow. There was an old tractor parked inside that looked like it hadn’t moved in thirty years, a stall filled with rotting hay, and a heavy, time-beaten table in the center, with buckets and bottles on one end and a set of tools on the other. A large wooden barrel sat to the left side of the table, positioned under a bar stretched out between the support posts. An odd, jagged piece of material was draped over it. The ground was darker beneath this area than it was in the rest of the room. The moisture evaporated from my mouth and my throat tightened. I waved Gabriel over and he trudged up beside me.

  “We shouldn’t—”

  “Does that look like blood to you?”

  That got his attention. He stuck his head in the door, and when he pulled back to look at me, his face was pinched. “We should go.”

  “But—”

  He shook his head and turned me toward the car. “We need to get Fagan. Now.”

  “Are you at least going to tell me what’s going on? It was blood, wasn’t it?” I asked as my feet reluctantly moved forward.

  “Yes.”

  “What do you think happened?”

  He cleared his throat. “Someone’s been using the barn to tan hides.”

  Tan hides? What did he—oh. Understanding shot through my veins with a shudder. That wasn’t fabric hanging on the bar. It was skin. Ew. “Like a hunter.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  The police station was swarming with activity when we arrived. Another murder? We wove our way through the grim-faced deputies to Fagan’s office. It was full, so we waited outside. Fagan flicked his eyes to me and gave a slight tilt of his head, acknowledging he’d seen us. Gabriel and I didn’t breathe a word of what we’d seen with so many people who could overhear. After a few minutes, Fagan’s door opened, and six or so officers filed out, Fagan trailing behind.

  “Walk with me,” he said. When we were out of earshot, he spoke in a hushed tone. “Let’s wait on the warrant for the financials. It would draw too much attention right now.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Alfie Laurie’s missing. Lola’s pushing that we involve the FBI. She believes it’s a kidnapping.”

  “Has there been a ransom demand?”

  “No. No contact whatsoever.”

  “She probably doesn’t want to think he could be dead.” With three people murdered in Jackson, I knew that had to be in the back of Lola’s mind, so she was grasping at any glimmer of hope that she’d get her son back, unscathed.

  “We have no reason to think Alfie’s dead,” Fagan said quietly.

  I scoffed. “Except for three other dead people.”

  Fagan’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “He doesn’t fit the victim profile.”

  “They were women. The killer has yet to target a man, but Ella does have a point. We have to consider the possibility that the killer is selecting targets based on something other than gender. All three girls knew each other; chances are they weren’t random. Maybe Alfie knows something too.”

  “We know Alfie knew all three of them,” I added.

  Fagan glan
ced around quickly, then leaned in. “But if one of the Lauries hired the killer, they’d know Alfie wasn’t dead.”

  “If Lola wants the FBI called in, I’m going to guess she’s not the killer.”

  “It’s hard to judge someone’s motivation without talking to them,” Gabriel said.

  “I can’t take you,”—he motioned between us—“either of you, to see them. I shouldn’t even be talking to you.” We stopped at his car.

  Before I could make an incendiary reply to that, Gabriel spoke. “We completely understand. We’re here because Ella found a new piece of evidence this morning in Mary’s case.”

  Fagan stretched his neck to either side and there was a loud crack. “What’d you find?”

  “Lakota sent me a letter.”

  He went very still and his eyes narrowed. “And you just got it?”

  I tried not to bristle. “No. It was sent to my home, and I hadn’t gone through my mail. I actually carried it, unopened, in my purse for a few days—but that’s beside the point now. Here.” I thrust the paper at him.

  He scanned the letter quickly.

  “We think we know where they waited for Mary. And there’s a barn—”

  “Where? What does it look like?”

  Gabriel explained where we were and what the barn looked like.

  Fagan nodded. “I think I know the property. Did you enter the building?”

  “Just peeked inside,” I told him. “There was blood—we think.”

  “Blood?” He sighed.

  “You know, maybe calling the FBI would be best.” Gabriel said.

  I felt bad for him, too. Fagan looked exhausted, and he only had so many men. Investigating Alfie’s disappearance and three murders was too much for them.

  A harsh laugh tore from his mouth. “And which case would you have me give them? The murder that I may have inadvertently helped cover up, or the disappearance that in all likelihood connects back to the murder?”