Zeb got up to rinse his plate in the sink. “And I didn’t tell Leia until around nine that night when she got off work. And she didn’t tell you guys until after the cabin incident had already taken place, on the ride out to Spirit Lake with her mom. That was after Gemma had told them about the gunshots.”
Luke took a beer out of the fridge, twisted off the cap. “Yeah, Leia woke me up with a phone call. I thought it was the hospital calling about a patient.” He scratched his chin. “I see now why you’re so bent on that theory.”
“It’s the only thing that makes any sense,” Lando concluded. “There’s no doubt Sam owned the car Gemma saw in her vision. Radley’s car. Although I don’t remember Sam driving it all that much, Payce confirms he did. And according to Payce, Sam tooled around in it like he was some James Dean type until he was well into his thirties. Then the week after Chloe’s murder, Sam up and sells the car to Radley for ten thousand dollars less than Blue Book value.”
“But that was five years ago,” Zeb added. “Which means I doubt anything in that car has evidentiary value today. I could ask Radley to let me submit the car for DNA testing, but that would pretty much be a long shot. Then if Sam caught wind of it, he might take off for parts unknown. Then where would we be?”
“And what good would that do?” Lando voiced. “We know Chloe wasn’t killed in the car.”
“Exactly. I did recheck the police reports from Reno though and there was one entry that stood out to me. A red car, the report doesn’t say it was a sports car, just that it was a small, fire-engine-red vehicle, seen driving up and down the street in front of the convenience store that night. It was seen multiple times in the area a few days ahead of Chloe leaving. The cops there didn’t think anything about it. And until I heard Gemma’s theory yesterday, it didn’t mean much to me either. Because I’d read the police reports no less than fifty times before and never caught the significance of that one line.”
Lando got up to put his dirty plate in the dishwasher. “If what Gemma saw is true, then we have to find enough evidence to link him to the murders before the election, otherwise we have a serial killer in charge of the town and the police force.”
“And now with no opposition whatsoever,” Luke tossed out. “Not that I wanted Arlo to get elected.”
Zeb opened the recycle bin and dropped his empty beer bottle into the can. “The clock is ticking and we’re in countdown mode. While we sit around here waiting for him to strike.”
“Maybe what we should’ve done is stake out Sam, keep him under surveillance and not let him out of our sight.”
Luke took a long slug of his brew. “When do you think he last killed?”
Lando sent him a strange look. “Arlo Stokely?”
“No, I mean his targeted victims, young women or girls.”
Lando took out another beer. “Ah. I doubt he’s waited five years for that. Although at his age it would be harder to lure in young women.”
“You’re suggesting he was truthful,” Zeb prompted. “No way he was honest with Chloe about his age. But when he got there, he probably put her at ease with his older and wiser persona. Even Gemma saw that part in her vision.”
“So where does that leave us?” Luke asked. “How do we prove Sam offed Arlo?”
“First, we shake things up, making sure it’s common knowledge that we don’t think Arlo committed suicide.”
19
Heavy-eyed, Gemma blinked away the sunlight filtering through the drapes and found Lando beside her, propped up on his elbow, staring down at her.
“You know that’s creepy, right,” she mumbled, turning over to face him. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re sleeping in my old bed. I snuck into the room twenty minutes ago. Mom’s making stuffed French toast. She texted us guys about it and invited us over for breakfast. How much did you have to drink last night?”
“Too much. My head hurts. Did Sam show up?”
“Nope. Total bust. Are you still up for cleaning the cabin? If not, Radley and Bosco offered to help.”
“No, I’m okay.” She sat up on her elbows. “But any warm body means less time spent getting soot off the walls. Did I hear you say Lydia’s making stuffed French toast?”
“With cream cheese in the middle and fresh fruit on top.”
“Now I’m hungry. I missed you last night. An all-female sleepover is highly overrated. By the end of the night even Lianne was having second thoughts about it. There’s only so much time you can spend on a pedicure and pink nail polish. Want to see my toes?”
“I love your toes.” He threw his leg over her body, trapping her in his hold and leaned in to cover her mouth. “How about I see the rest of you and not just your toes?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and nibbled on his earlobe. “Better get busy then.”
They got busy later, too. Loading up buckets of cleaning supplies, latex gloves, brooms and mops, they met up with a team of volunteers at the cabin, prepared for hours of heavy-duty scrubbing before slapping on paint.
Lando had given Bosco the green light to stop at the hardware store and pick up the colors his mother had picked out and the paint sprayers they’d need.
But first the ten people who showed up to volunteer had to move the furniture out of the way to get to the walls. They split into teams, with Luke taking one group upstairs while Lando focused on the lower level. The living room with its wall of a fireplace had suffered the most damage. The kitchen was second, but Lando was pretty sure the hickory-stained cabinets could be washed and brought back to life.
“It isn’t that bad up here,” Luke told his brother from the landing. “Not as thick as the downstairs area. If you need help, I’ll send Ginny Sue down. She’s here to thank you for locking Kirby away.”
“I think we’ll be fine. Radley showed up to help with the dogs in tow, though. Gemma confined them to the bathroom for now but don’t know how long that will last. So watch out for our four-legged kids.”
Luke gave him a salute and disappeared into one of the bedrooms with Lianne.
“Let’s hope that means they’re working and not fooling around on the job,” Lando said to Gemma.
“What’s the harm of fooling around? You’re such a taskmaster, Mr. Bonner. We should make this dirty chore somehow fun. I say we crank up the radio and get to work. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we get out of here.”
Gemma sang along with the oldies station out of Crescent City with a soul sound from the 60s, refusing to give any further air time to KYOT and Sam Wells.
Standing on a ladder, using a long bristle brush to wash the walls, she sang along to Aretha Franklin’s “Chain of Fools” until Bosco chimed in on the chorus.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he said. “You were doing great with the Queen of Soul.”
“No one sings like the Queen of Soul. And everyone loves Chain of Fools, right?”
“Know any other R&B vocals?”
“Like I said, who doesn’t? Why?”
“Let’s hear it,” Radley challenged from the other side of the room, picking up another narrow scrub brush and using it for a drumstick.
Soon they were harmonizing songs made famous by Wilson Pickett and Martha and the Vandellas, dancing to the beat while sponging soot off the wall.
Gemma spread her wings and vocals on several Diana Ross tunes until she ended with applause from upstairs. Scrubber in hand, she bowed graciously. “Why thank you, thank you! Let’s hope I’m not here until Thursday.”
They lip-synced to Chuck Berry, using fake microphones to sing out to their phantom audience.
“Remind me again why we don’t crack open this soul train for tonight’s show,” Bosco wanted to know. “I think people would love taking a deep dive back to a 1960s time when soul ruled. It’d be like going down memory lane with sweet soul, baby, sweet soul. How could we lose?”
They batted that idea around with more songs from Sam Cooke and The Temptations. Lando surp
rised her with his rendition of “When a Man Loves a Woman” that brought tears to her eyes.
“You should sing that at the wedding,” Leia prodded. “That would bring the house down.”
“Or at least at the reception.” Gemma wiped the tears away, but her eyes danced with a dazzled look of a woman in love. “You sang that same song to me one night out at Mystic Falls. We were seventeen and planning to go to junior prom the next night.”
Lando leaned her back in his arms and feathered light kisses along her neck. He pressed his lips to hers. “You think I don’t remember that, but I do.”
“You should,” she said, beginning to realize all this had occurred in front of everyone. “Let me up.”
He obliged by swatting her on the fanny. “We’re mere weeks away from tying the knot and you’re blushing.”
“I’m well aware of the countdown. It’s why I spent an ungodly amount of money on a single dress. But wait till you see me in it.”
The moment changed when Lando’s phone rang first, followed five seconds later by Zeb’s. The two men traded looks before stepping to different corners of the house to take their incoming calls.
Lianne seemed to be the only one who noticed the faces on Gemma and Leia that had turned to disappointment. She sidled up to them with a question. “Are you two sure you can handle being married to cops?”
Gemma glanced at Leia, lifted a shoulder in casual indifference. “What’s the alternative? Lando loves being a cop and I love Lando.”
“Same here,” Leia added. “Zeb’s life is law enforcement. It’s the way it is.”
Gemma linked her arm with Lianne’s. “But hey, don’t take our word for it. There isn’t much difference in you preparing a fancy dinner for Luke and his phone lighting up with a call that says he has to go rip out an appendix when you’re just sitting down to dinner. Doctors aren’t immune to emergencies that come up at the most intrusive times.”
“I never thought of it like that,” Lianne said with a long, drawn-out sigh.
“If you’re serious about Luke, better get used to it. I practice not getting upset. No joke, I make a point to not show my disappointment.” When she heard Rufus pawing at the bathroom door, she went over to let the dogs out.
Leia snorted with laughter. “I thought it was just me. I refuse to become a nag. Or one of those people who sit around and complain about everything. Look at Raynelle. She’s spent most of her life bitching about everything and everyone. Now she’s lost her son and she’s alone, in a position where she could use a friend. But most are staying away.”
“Except your mom,” Gemma provided, giving the dogs some gentle loving to keep them quiet. “Last week Raynelle was making fun of Lydia. But it was Lydia who sat beside her and got her through those first few hours after Arlo died.”
“Karma. What goes around comes around,” Lianne stated. “I’ve always believed in it.”
Lando came back into the room with Zeb. Both looked glum. But it was Lando who shared what he’d learned.
“The state forensic lab ID’d the female found near the highway up near Oregon. Seems the family uploaded their DNA into a database right after she went missing and they got a match. Her name was Chelsea Fleming, sixteen years old from Klamath.”
Zeb picked it up from there. “I googled the name. Chelsea had been left out there in that field for nine years. She went missing after a St. Patrick’s Day party with her friends from school. She left to meet up with a guy she’d been talking to online. Her best friend was supposed to cover for her. But the family never heard from Chelsea after she left home that night.”
Gemma’s fingertips felt like ice, as the feeling began to move, crawling up her arms all the way to her neck. “Chelsea. That’s significant. Another girl’s name that begins with the letter C. It fits with Chloe and Cheri. The theory is that he’s targeting specific girls online, getting to know them, getting to understand their habits, taking the time to find out their likes, their dislikes, and then offering to meet them in person. His obsession is turning into a shocking realization that he’s more prolific than we thought. We still have the missing girl from the B Street Pier unaccounted for, a possible Jane Doe somewhere who vanished without a trace. Who knows how many more there are?”
“Carly mentioned the B Street Pier incident happened two years ago,” Lianne tossed out. “That means whoever’s doing this is fairly consistent.”
“Let’s hope it isn’t one a year,” Leia stated. “Or we may never know his victim count.”
The dogs began to whine when Lydia appeared in the open doorway holding a stack of pizza cartons. “Break time. I brought food.”
Looking around at their progress, she stared up at the ceiling. “Oh, this is coming along nicely. You guys do good work. Maybe I’ll hire you out on weekends.”
Her crack broke the tension and gave them a reason to segue from serial killers to the task at hand, which was food.
Luke went over to relieve his mother of the boxes. “Thanks for the grub. We’re starving.”
“No problem. There’s more in the car.”
“I’ll get it,” Radley offered, dashing outside to retrieve the rest of the pizzas.
“The plan is to start painting after lunch,” Lando provided, flipping open a box and taking out a hefty slice of pepperoni. “We might have to come back tomorrow for touchup but for the most part we’ll have the cabin back in good shape by Monday.”
“You should come out here more often, Mom,” Luke prodded as he handed out paper plates to people who’d gathered around the kitchen island. “Take advantage of the scenery. Minus the gunfire, of course.”
Lydia sent Gemma a look that bordered on a wave of panic. Believing her secret had been discovered, she actually began to stammer.
Gemma covered for her with a cool, plucky comeback. “Let’s catch Sam Wells first before we start sending your mother up here by herself to spend the night.”
“Good thinking,” Leia uttered, putting her arm around her mother in a protective move. “The threat Sam Wells presents is a lot more than becoming mayor now.”
Radley caught the last part of the conversation before bringing the boxes into the kitchen. “Why are you guys so set that Sam Wells is a bad dude? You can’t possibly suspect Sam Wells of serial murders?”
Gemma could tell by Radley’s reaction that it was the first inkling his hero Sam might be a killer. “We do. Grab some food and we’ll tell you why.”
She ticked off the high points with Lando and Zeb adding in their own suspicions.
“Look, we realize we might not be able to nail him for the murders of the girls. Cold cases without surefire evidence are hard to solve. So our best chance at justice is locking him up for killing Arlo.”
Radley was stunned. “You think he did that? But the guy wears those banker’s suits that cost a thousand bucks. He even let me take out a second mortgage after my mother got sick. The hospital bills were piling up. I finally could pay for my mother’s cancer treatments because of him.”
“Have you read the fine print on that contract?” Gemma wanted to know. “Are you sure it doesn’t come with a huge balloon payment after five years?”
“No. I mean, I glanced through it. At the time, it seemed to read okay.”
“Better read it again,” Lando muttered in between bites. “And afterward make an appointment to see a lawyer. Start with Alex Kedderson. He knows all about Sam’s tactics at the bank.”
Bosco had been hanging on every word. “Mr. Wells sucked me into a car loan with an exorbitant interest rate. I took me seven years to pay it off. But hey, I had wheels, right? That’s what he said when I complained. My dad went down there and talked to him ’cause I was only nineteen at the time. But Mr. Wells said there was nothing he could do.”
“We all make mistakes when we’re that age,” Gemma pointed out. “And it’s only normal that when we’re desperate for cash we’ll rely on the bank for help, right?”
She reached ou
t to lay her hand over Bosco’s and got a jolt. “Is your father okay, Bosco?”
“Yeah. I think so. Why?”
She didn’t want to alarm him, but when she touched his hand, she’d gotten a very clear image of a man bending over in pain, clutching his chest. “Maybe you should go check on him. Give him a call, make sure he’s feeling okay.”
Bosco cut his eyes to Lando and then back at her. “Is this for real?”
“I think you need to check on your dad,” Gemma insisted. “Now.”
“Okay, I’m going. Are you guys trying to get rid of me or something? I’m not getting kicked out of the band, am I?”
Gemma punched him lightly on the arm to get him moving. “No. It isn’t like that. Just go find out if your father is all right.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Let us know if we can do anything,” Gemma hollered out as the front door closed.
After Bosco left, Lando shifted his feet. “What was that all about?”
“I think Mr. Reynolds might be having chest pains.”
“Right this minute?” Luke said in alarm.
“Yes.”
“I should go with him.”
“No, his coworkers already called the paramedics. He’s on his way to the hospital.”
All eyes settled on Gemma.
She began to feel uncomfortable until Lydia swung her into a hug. “That’s some gift you’ve got there. You’re just like your grandmother.”
“I like the compliment.”
Leia scooted around the island, holding out her hand to Gemma. “Do me. Do me.”
“You’re kidding, right?” But she grabbed Leia’s hand anyway and swung her into a playful dance. “Let’s see. You have OCD when you’re in chef-mode. You don’t like eggplant, which is just crazy, and you’re in love with a tall, dark hunky guy who likes horses.”
At the end of the counter, Zeb rolled his eyes. “I think she was looking for something imminent.”
“Okay, how’s this? There’s a food critic heading your way. He’s on a swing through here doing a book tour. The guy’s super picky. But he loves beef brisket served spicy and served with shoestring fries.” Gemma closed her eyes and thought some more. “He’ll be here this afternoon because his car breaks down right outside town and he’s stranded within our shores.”
Spirit Lake Page 18
