Runs Deeper

by R. D. Brady

  Steve hurried past him. Evelyn stood up, her hand to her mouth, although her eyes spoke legions. Oh, Steve, I’m so sorry. How could this happen? Not Laura.

  Steve didn’t say a word as he sprinted through the coffee house and the swinging kitchen doors. For a moment, he flashed back to the swinging doors at Mel’s Diner. A vision of Mel’s body followed, and Steve flinched at the memory.

  But he shoved it to the back of his mind as Declan appeared in the doorway at the back of the kitchen. “They’re okay.”

  Steve didn’t say anything as Declan stepped aside. He caught his first glimpse of Julie sitting with Bess curled up in her lap. Then his knees practically gave out. He stumbled over to them, crouching down, placing his hand on the back of Bess’s head. “Julie?”

  Julie looked at him, her eyes rimmed red. “Steve,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Are you okay?”

  Julie started to nod her head and then shook it, her chin trembling. “Why is this happening again?”

  Steve wrapped his arms around the two most important women in his life. “I don’t know.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Julie had been so close. He could’ve reached out and touched her. Death smiled. I could have done more than that. But it wasn’t her time yet. There was still more to be done.

  Besides, she was carrying a gun. That had been a surprise. Apparently Julie didn’t like playing the damsel in distress.

  On the street below, he saw a black Hummer fishtail as it rounded the corner. Hurry, hurry, Steve. He watched until the car disappeared into the parking lot next to the coffee shop. Behind him, the kettle whistle blew. He padded over on stocking feet, removing it from the ringer.

  Steam rose toward him as he poured the boiling water into an “I Love My Cat” mug. Apparently Laura also had a thing against coffee, which made him feel like killing her all over again. But he supposed the hot cocoa would do. He poured the cocoa mix in, stirring carefully and then rummaging through the cabinets. Ah, score. He pulled out the bag of mini marshmallows.

  Dumping a dozen or so of them into the top of his mug, he walked back to the window, stirring his creation and blowing on it. The wind had picked up, and the snow was blowing, making it difficult to see. But the reflection of the lights of the police car flashed out into the snow.

  He placed his coffee on the windowsill and then walked over to the small sitting area and pulled over one of the armchairs. Grabbing the afghan that was neatly folded over the back of the chair, he draped it over his lap as he took a seat. Pulling the mug toward him, he took a tentative sip. Just right, he thought, feeling like Goldilocks.

  Miss Minnie’s house was too cluttered with tchotchkes. She’d had little ceramic figures covering every surface. And the house where he’d first started all of this was too painful to bear. But Laura’s apartment, tucked above the hardware store with its comfy leather furniture, was just right.

  He settled in to watch the show, knowing he had a few hours, if not days, before anyone bothered to check Laura’s apartment.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Pine City, New York

  The hallway was large and bright, the walls a muted cream. Each door Russ passed had only one small window, large enough to see a face and no more. As he passed, only one face looked out at him, the other windows remaining empty. The man that watched him go by had stringy gray hair lining the sides of his face, three teardrops inked on each cheek and trailing down from the corner of his eyes.

  Russ averted his gaze. As sheriff of Millners Kill, he’d put his share of people in prison. More than he liked to think about in the last few years. He didn’t want to imagine what the men in these cells had done to land them here. Bad enough to think about what the prisoner he was checking on had done, never mind considering the possibility that there were dozens more like him.

  Russ swallowed hard at the thought. No, Jack Kane was unique. There were no others out there like him. That kind of evil didn’t come along very often. Russ glanced at the guard walking next to him. “You guys have never had an escape, right?”

  Mitch Perez, the guard accompanying Russ, gave him an incredulous look. “An escape? We’re a supermax. These guys don’t have a chance to escape. Their only escape is death.”

  “Well, that’s … good.”

  Perez shook his head. “Not sure why you need to see Kane. The guy’s been following the rules, not making any trouble.” The guard laughed. “Not that making trouble would do him any good.”

  “So he goes along with the program?”

  “Yup. Eats his meals in his cell, sleeps in his cell, shits in his cell. He gets outside one hour a day.”

  “And he has no contact with other inmates?”

  “Nope. Some of the guys manage contact with guys across the hall from them, but Kane doesn’t have that option. There’s no one across from him. The cells are soundproof, so he can’t hear anyone in the other cells. He’s at the end of his row, so no one even walks by him. He might see a glimpse of someone when he’s being led to his yard time, but he has zero contact with anyone but the guards.”

  “And his guards? Any issues?”

  “Nope. All his guards have been here for years. I’m one of them. I don’t even talk to the asshole.”

  “Well, that’s good.” But Russ also knew he couldn’t take Perez at his word. He didn’t know Perez. He seemed friendly. He’d puffed up a little at being asked to show Russ Jack Kane. Russ knew prison life, even for the guards, was pretty monotonous. Breaks in the routine like this one were pretty welcome.

  Perez had been a guard here for four years, according to his file. Before that, he worked for an armored truck company. Now he was pushing forty with a job at one of the country’s many maximum-security facilities.

  But prison guards didn’t make a lot of money, which left them ripe for bribes. In fact, guards were always a weak link in prison security. They were one of the many ways that inmates managed to smuggle contraband in. Slip a guard a few bucks, and he’d mail a letter or get them a book or something worse. After Russ verified it was Jack, he’d have to do a deep dive on each of the guards. If Jack was getting information from the outside or to the outside, the guards were the most likely conduit.

  Perez opened a door to another hall that housed Jack’s cell. More cream walls but fewer doors greeted them. They headed to the end. Russ paused before reaching the last door, looking around. Perez was right about Jack not being able to contact other inmates, at least from here. The angle was wrong. He wouldn’t even be able to see any of the other doors. And only the guards would ever travel back here.

  “Here he is.” Perez waved toward the door.

  Russ took a deep breath, shoving away the images of Mel, Bess, and Dee. Jack was not the boogeyman. Now, he was just Inmate 247. The cell was the same color as the hall, with concrete walls. There was a single light in the ceiling, a small toilet and sink in the corner, and a cot along the back wall. Jack sat on the cot reading a book, his long hair acting as a curtain over his face.

  Russ frowned.

  “Well?” Perez demanded.

  “I can’t tell. I can only see him in profile.”

  The guard called into his radio. “Ingers, I need you and Myers at Cell 247.”

  A minute later, the door at the end of the hall opened, and two huge guards headed toward them. “What’s up?” Ingers asked.

  The guard nodded toward the door. “We need to take Kane out for a minute and get a good look at him.”

  The guard, whose nametag read Myers, shrugged. “Okay.” He rapped on the door. “Kane. Get ready for inspection.” He slid the slot in the middle of the door open. “Present your hands.”

  Two hands, the fingernails ragged and encrusted with dirt, appeared through the slot. With practiced moves, Ingers snapped the cuffs on them. The hands disappeared back inside.

  The guard called into his radio. “Open Cell 247.” He looked at Russ. “Stand back, please, Sheri
ff.”

  Russ took a few steps back, so he was behind the guards. The door slid open.

  “Inmate 247, step out of your cell.”

  Jack stepped into the hall. Russ thought he’d been prepared for the sight of him. But he wasn’t. Anger clawed up his throat. He shoved it away, curling his hands into fists. At the same time, it was hard to reconcile the man he knew with the man in front of him. The longer hair, the beard; he looked like some sixties hippie.

  Russ stepped forward. “Look at me,” he commanded.

  Jack kept his gaze on his feet. Russ took another step forward. “Look at me.”

  Perez put up a hand. “Sheriff, you need to—”

  Jack sprang at Russ, his teeth snapping.

  “Shit!” Russ scrambled back as Meyers and Ingers grabbed ahold of Jack’s arms, yanking him back. Russ met Jack’s gaze as he spit and bit.

  All the breath drained from Russ’s lungs as he stared at the inmate growling and spitting in front of him.

  “That’s not Jack Kane.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Stepping out of the office to give Steve and Julie a little privacy, Declan stood at the other end of the kitchen, not really looking at anything. In his mind, he was trying to figure out how this all fit together.

  Jack was the most likely connection, but he couldn’t be out. His transfer to Southport had gone smoothly, no hiccups. He’d been there for over a month. Escapes happened in prison, although rarely. But in a supermax, the likelihood was so much lower.

  Besides, prison escapes were front-page news, and there hadn’t been a peep. Even if it was kept on the down low, someone would have reached out to Declan. As a police officer, and being he had a personal connection, he’d be notified within hours, if not sooner.

  So what the hell is going on?

  The front door to the coffee shop jingled. Declan placed his hand on his gun and peered through the kitchen door. Nevaeh and Joan stepped in. Declan looked toward the back of the kitchen. The back door was locked and couldn’t be accessed from the outside. He’d checked it himself to be sure. Convinced they were safe for the moment, he headed out of the kitchen to see what Nevaeh could tell him.

  Craig was pouring Nevaeh a coffee. Nevaeh’s face was drawn, but her eyes immediately went to Declan as he stepped into the room. “Get yourself a coffee. I want you to come with me. Joan will stay with them until we get back.”

  Declan eyed the deputy. He didn’t know her well, but he knew she’d been on the force for years. Joan met his gaze. “I won’t let anything happen to them.”

  “Thanks.”

  Evelyn held up a coffee mug, but Declan waved her off. “I’m good.”

  Nevaeh studied him for a moment. “Then let’s go.”

  Declan grabbed his jacket and followed her out of the warm shop. Cold air and stinging snow particles slapped him in the face as he walked. Another two inches had fallen since he’d arrived at the scene. There was now easily a new eighteen inches on top of the older twelve inches. And this was just the beginning of the storm. In more ways than one.

  He shuddered at the thought, hoping he was wrong.

  Nevaeh hurried through the parking lot, her head tucked down. The blowing snow made it impossible to talk, so Declan didn’t even bother trying. Ahead, Joan had been replaced by Robert Fisher at the door of the clinic.

  Declan knew Robert. He’d been the chief before Nevaeh. He was another transplant from New York, this time the Buffalo region. He’d done his twenty with the Buffalo PD and then moved to Maine to train guard dogs. A few years later, he’d been elected chief. He’d retired a second time when Nevaeh was hired. Now he volunteered when it was needed. Robert held the door open for them, his face looking grave. “Declan.”

  Declan pulled his glove off, extending his hand. “Good to see you, Robert. I wish it was under better circumstances.”

  Robert gripped his hand tightly. “Me too.”

  Nevaeh stomped snow off of her boots, nodding to Robert. “I’ve called in a few deputies, and I contacted the town council. We’re going to need to decide what people need to know. Two deaths in such a short time, it’s not normal. We need to warn people.”

  Declan was well aware of how much panic that was going to cause, but he also knew it was a necessary precaution. “What can I do to help?”

  Nevaeh and Robert exchanged a look before Nevaeh spoke. “Actually, there’s something I need you to take a look at. Something I need your opinion on.”

  “Okay.”

  Nevaeh didn’t move. “You need to prepare yourself, Declan.”

  Surprise flashed through Declan. When she’d walked him into Miss Minnie’s crime scene, she hadn’t given him a warning. Which meant whatever this was, it was bad. He steeled himself and gave her a nod.

  Nevaeh met Declan’s gaze and held it until she was satisfied. Then she turned on her heel and headed for the door behind the counter.

  After only a moment’s hesitation, Declan followed her. He’d seen bodies before, more than he’d like to admit. So it couldn’t be that. He knew Laura’s body was in the stockroom at the back of the clinic. He hadn’t seen the scene yet, but perhaps it was more gruesome than the library scene. A volunteer deputy was standing back there. Nevaeh nodded at her but turned down the other part of the hall. The only rooms down here were Julie’s office and the records room. Another deputy was stationed outside of the office. Nevaeh stepped inside.

  Taking a deep breath at the entrance, Declan stepped in behind her. And then his stomach hit the floor. The lights were on, so he could make out the words on the wall perfectly.

  The words were in a dark liquid, and without asking Declan knew it was blood. Nevaeh pointed behind the office desk. “We found Laura’s cat. That’s what he used to write it.”

  Still focused on the message on the wall, it took a minute for Nevaeh’s words to register. “Wait, the blood’s from her cat?”

  “Yeah. He must’ve killed it around the same time he killed Laura.”

  Declan shook his head slowly. “No. No, the cat was alive when Julie and Bess arrived at the clinic. Julie mentioned it when I asked her to go over what happened.”

  “Maybe she was mistaken. Sometimes when people go through their ordinary routine, they just assume things because it normally happens.”

  Declan knew that was true enough, but he shook his head. “No, Bess mentioned the cat as well. In fact, that was the only thing she mentioned.”

  Nevaeh’s mouth fell open. “But that means …”

  “The killer was still here when Julie and Bess arrived.” He looked back at the message. It had taken on a whole new terrifying meaning.

  So sorry I missed you, Julie.

  But don’t worry, I’ll see you again soon.

  Love,

  Jack

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Pine City, New York

  The walls seemed to close in on Russ as he stared at Inmate 247, the man who was supposed to be Jack Kane. They were similar—same hair color, same build, same height. But the eyes of this man were darker than Jack’s, his cheekbones much more pronounced, his face and nose a little wider. But they could pass for brothers. And apparently each other if you didn’t actually know Jack.

  “What do you mean it’s not Jack Kane? This is Jack Kane,” Perez said.

  “No. I don’t know who the hell that is, but it’s not Jack.” Russ turned on his heel and hurried back down the hall. Perez barked at the other two guards to get 247 back in his cell before hurrying after Russ. He caught up with him at the door. “What do you mean—”

  “Get the door open,” Russ ordered.

  No doubt catching the urgency in Russ’s voice, he unlocked the door quickly. Then Perez had to jog to keep up with Russ’s long-legged stride. Russ barely registered the man next to him. All he could concentrate on was the fact that Jack Kane was not here. So where the hell was he? “Were there any problems with the transfer?”

  “No. Everything went like clo
ckwork. He was checked every step of the way. I mean, they take pictures, fingerprint him.”

  “He’s gotten around fingerprints before,” Russ mumbled. Then he remembered the initiation ritual for the Brotherhood: the removal of fingerprints. Cold dread poured through him. Jack had been planning this for months, if not years. Certainty lodged in Russ’s chest. He was out.

  “That is who Auburn sent us.” Perez’s voice was tight, his jaw clenched.

  Russ knew the man was worried about his job. “Perez, I’m not blaming you. But we need to find Jack Kane. He’s responsible for over two dozen deaths. And if he’s not here, then we need to find out where he is right now.”

  Perez nodded before opening the next gate. He spoke quietly into his radio as they hurried toward the exit. Russ desperately wanted his phone. He needed to call Declan. He was right. Jack had to be behind the murders. I need to warn him. His chest tightened as he pictured Julie and Steve.

  But it was the picture of Bess that nearly dropped him to his knees. God no. He wouldn’t go after Bess, would he?

  But Jack had killed Bess’s namesake, his grandmother, the woman who had for all intents and purposes raised Jack. And he’d gone after Micah when he’d been only six. He didn’t think Bess’s age or family link would protect her. In fact, it probably made the bull’s-eye on her even larger.

  I need to warn Steve. Jack’s coming for him, if he’s not already there.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Dover, Maine

  Declan slowly lowered his cell phone to the counter and stared out the window into Julie and Steve’s backyard. Russ had called him and told him about the supermax. They still didn’t know who was in Jack’s cell. The warden was pushing back, refusing to believe that the inmate currently identified as 247 was not Jack Kane, the notorious serial killer.