“I’m not following you,” I said as I shifted my weight from one hip to another.
“Okay, even you said you don’t think it’s a coincidence that your brother has come into play with this whole scenario. What if you’re right? What if it’s a lot more than a coincidence? What if the reason that Alma picked Randy out of the lineup was that she did see Randy? Or at least, she thought she had seen Randy?”
I tried to follow her logic, but it took another few seconds before I picked up what she was laying down.
“Oh, my God,” I finally said when all the puzzle pieces finally fell into place. “You think Brian was the one she saw arguing with Shiloh Blackwater that night?”
“Bingo!”
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath.
Yes, it had already crossed my mind that Brian could possibly be involved. Especially once I’d learned of his mental condition and penchant for violence. But I had never considered that the reason Alma Jean Glover had been so certain she’d seen Randy was because she’d actually seen his son. I didn’t know what Brian looked like, but most likely, he at least resembled Randy, as most sons resembled their fathers. He might even be a spitting image. This explained quite a bit regarding Alma Glover’s eyewitness statement and identification of Randy, especially once you factored in her near-blindness.
“Harper, you’re a genius,” I said, wanting to kiss her square on the lips, but patting her on the back, instead.
“Not so fast,” Harper said with a wary look on her face.
“What? I think you’re right!”
“It’s just a theory. Plus, if what we just figured out is even true, it still leaves several more questions to be answered.”
“Such as?”
“Such as…does Randy even know Brian exists? Does Brian know Randy exists? If the answer to either or both of those questions is yes, then the next question is—why? Why would Brian kill all those women and why would Randy take the fall? And finally, how do we prove Brian is the real killer and set your father free?”
“All good questions,” I said. “Apparently, I’m going to have to talk to Randy. Plus, I’m hopefully going to locate Brian sooner rather than later and maybe he will answer some of those questions too. Harper, we may be close to solving this thing, after all.”
“Let’s hope,” Harper said.
My cell phone rang. I pulled it out of the back pocket of my jeans and looked at the screen. It was Detective Webster. Rather, Web.
I answered, but before I could say anything he jumped in excitedly.
“I found him,” he said. “I found Brian. At least, I think I did.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve got an address. I’m headed back over to check it out now.”
“Wait,” I said. “How did you find an address so quickly?”
“Well, while there are dozens of houses on Jacks Creek, only a handful of them are not occupied by their owners. In other words, according to the most recent census and tax and property records, there were only six houses being rented out by the owners. I know three of the renters and none of them could possibly be Brian, so that only left three more possibilities. I stopped by the first two houses, pretending to be looking for a runaway fugitive. The first was a young divorcee with three little children. The second was an older couple whose children all live in different states. That left one more house. No one answered when I went to the door, but when I called the landlord, he gave me all the information I needed.”
“Did he say that Brian rents from him?”
“Not exactly,” he said. “All he knows is that in June, he was approached by a man in his early to mid-forties, single, with no children, who asked to rent from him on a month-to-month basis. He said his name was Billy Williams and that he’d moved to Richmond to be near his mother, who is supposedly in one of the nursing homes. He didn’t necessarily believe his story, but thought he seemed harmless enough, so he agreed to rent to him.”
“It has to be Brian,” I said excitedly.
“I think so too,” Web said. “I’m headed back over there now. Want to ride along?”
“Hell yes!”
“Well, hurry up. Meet me at the station and you can ride with me from there.”
“It’ll take me thirty minutes to get there. I’m on my way now.”
I hung up the phone and slid it back into my pocket.
“Web…I mean, Detective Webster, found Brian!” I told Harper.
“Web? So you’re already calling him by his nickname, huh?”
“Oh, stop,” I said as I stepped back over the files toward the door. “He told me to call him Web, that’s all.”
“Mmm-hmmm,” she said with a wry smile. “I hear ya. Go ahead. Call me when you know something.”
I turned and was about to leave the room when Harper called my name again.
“Libby. Remember one thing.”
“What’s that, Harper?”
“Ryan is dead. You’re single. There’s nothing wrong with moving on with your life. In fact, it’s a perfectly normal thing. You deserve a little happiness in your life. And you’re not betraying Ryan by having feelings for someone new. You’ve done your grieving, now it’s time to move on. Just take it slow, okay?”
I gave her a nod and headed back down the stairs and toward my meeting with the handsome detective.
Chapter 16
Web was waiting for me outside the Richmond Police Department. He was leaning against the hood of his cruiser, looking down at his phone. When he saw me pull in, he slid his phone into the pocket of his khakis and stood up straight and pulled down on the sleeves of his navy blue RPD jacket.
“You ready?” Web asked when I climbed out of my Sorento.
“Oh, yes,” I said, genuinely enthused. “Take me to him.”
“Let’s take my car,” he said. “He’s more likely to open the door if he sees us get out of a police cruiser.”
“Maybe. Or maybe he’ll hide, since he’s so paranoid of law enforcement. But you’re right. It’s probably a better idea than pulling up in a strange vehicle.” I walked around to the passenger side, opened the door, and slid into the seat. “Let’s go.” I was half-excited, half-nervous at the prospect of meeting my brother for the very first time. Unsure of how he’d react to seeing me and learning he had a sister, if he didn’t already know, might be a major shock to his system, and he was already mentally unstable. But I knew it had to be done.
Web backed the beige Crown Victoria out of the parking lot and onto Main Street. We discussed innocuous topics such as the weather and the perpetually mediocre University of Kentucky football team, until we turned onto Jacks Creek from the Bypass. Then my stomach muscles clenched and my hands started to tremble slightly. Web must have noticed, because he took his sunglasses off, laid them on the dashboard, and said, “Everything’s going to be okay, Libby.”
“You don’t know that,” I said, a bit harsher than I meant to. When I saw the somewhat wounded look on his face, I amended my tone. “Sorry. It’s just that I’m not sure how I feel about having a brother all of a sudden, so how can I expect someone like Brian to accept me with open arms right off the bat?”
“It may take some time,” Web conceded. “But you’ve got the rest of your lives to get to know one another. What we don’t have time for is to wait to find out what he may know about Joanna Baker.”
“And Randy’s case,” I added.
“Yes, and that.”
Before I knew it, we were turning right onto a long gravel driveway, kicking up dust along the way. I was somewhat surprised by the looks of the house at the top of the driveway. I don’t know exactly what I expected, but this wasn’t it. The rectangular red brick ranch home was longer than most ranch homes I had seen. The yard was perfectly manicured and the shrubs underneath the black shuttered windows were cut into perfect squares. I guess I had assumed, based on my preconceived ideas about Brian, he would be living in a ramshackle little house with g
arbage, a plastic pink flamingo, and an old Chevy Cavalier on blocks in the front yard. However, in the few months Brian had lived here, he had taken good care of the owner’s property. There was an older model rusted, red Ford pickup truck parked in the driveway.
I followed Web along the sidewalk, up the porch, and to the front door. He opened the screen door and knocked loudly on the main one with the side of his fist, as only members of law enforcement can do.
“Richmond Police, Brian. Open up!”
A finger poked through the blinds, holding them apart only briefly, then disappeared as the blinds popped back into place. He was definitely home. My insides clenched up, knowing I was only seconds away from meeting my brother.
“Brian Larson,” Web bellowed. “This is Detective Sebastian Webster. I need to speak with you. You’re not in any trouble, but you need to open the door this instant before I beat it down myself!”
“You can’t really do that, can you?” I whispered.
“Hell, no. But he doesn’t know that.”
Then the door parted slowly and a nose peeked through the crack.
“Show me some identification,” Brian said.
Web exhaled loudly, but did as asked, producing his badge and holding it up for Brian to see.
The door shut and we heard several locks being unlocked, and then the door slowly opened all the way, revealing a tall, lanky man who looked as docile as a monk. His fists were clenched at his sides, his head hung low, and he wouldn’t meet Web’s gaze. But even with his face downturned, the resemblance to my father nearly knocked me over. Brian was a bit taller and thinner than Randy, but his brow was just as pronounced and his grey-green eyes were identical to our father’s. There was no denying the man I was looking at was Randall McLanahan’s son—and my brother.
He held the screen door open so Web and I could walk inside. If he recognized me, his expression did not betray him.
When Web and I made it to the middle of the living room, Brian said, “Mind telling me what this is all about, Detective? I haven’t committed any crimes…lately.”
“I’m sure that’s true, Brian,” Web said in a calming tone. “We’d just like to ask you a few questions.”
“What is she doing here?” Brian said, nodding his head in my direction, but keeping his hands clinched at his sides. His eyes were wide and his bushy eyebrows were raised. He swayed from side to side in some sort of nervous tick.
Web looked at me, obviously not wanting to speak for me. I had only seconds to decide whether or not to tell him who I was. I could either tell him the whole truth—that I was his sister—and risk completely freaking him out, or, I could tell only half the truth and say I’m an investigator helping Web look into a few things.
But as soon as I opened my mouth to speak, Brian said, “I know who you are, by the way.” He was staring right at me.
I looked at Web, who looked at me and shrugged, then turned his attention back to Brian. “Who is she, then?”
“That’s Elizabeth. She’s Randall’s daughter.”
You could have knocked me over with a feather. I suddenly felt like I was riding the tea cups at an amusement park. How on earth could he possibly know who I was when I had only recently learned of his existence? How long had he known about me? Who told him?
Web was the one to give voice to my questions, as if he had read my mind entirely.
Brian’s head was still hung low and his shoulders slumped, as if he was expecting someone to hit him any minute. It took him a few seconds to speak, but finally, his thin lips parted and he spoke with a reticent, yet rough-edged voice.
“Mamma told me.” He spoke so softly I only barely heard what he said.
“Your mother told you about me? How is that even possible?”
He looked up at me for the first time with a sudden burst of confidence. “Mamma knows everything.”
“Your mother is Annie Larson?” Web asked now that Brian seemed capable of speaking.
But instead of a verbal response, Brian only nodded his head like a bashful child. He looked back down at his feet.
“Brian…where is Annie?” Web asked.
Brian shook his head vehemently from side to side. “Don’t know.”
At the mere mention of his mother, Brian looked as if he was about to jump out of his skin and run screaming toward the hills.
I could tell by the look on Web’s face that he believed Brian about as much as I did. He also apparently realized there was no point in pushing Brian on the matter, lest he clam up on us. We both knew that Brian was a paranoid schizophrenic who was especially afraid of the government and law enforcement.
“Brian,” Web said gently. “I’d like to ask you about Joanna Baker. Do you know who she is?”
Without looking up, Brian just shook his head again.
Web continued. “Ms. Baker was murdered recently. You don’t know anything about that, do you?”
Again, a shake of the head.
Web leaned over and whispered in my ear. “This is pointless. He’s not going to tell me anything. Maybe you should try.”
I nodded and took two cautious steps toward my brother. He, in turn, took two steps back until he bumped into the wall behind him. With nowhere left to turn, he looked like an animal caught in a trap. “Brian, if you know who I am, then you know that I’m your sister. Do you understand that?”
He slowly lifted his chin and looked right in my eyes. While the fear was still clearly visible on his face, there was a gentleness in his eyes that gave me pause. I had expected to see a hard-hearted, even cold, person. Someone clearly capable of murdering the bartender, and possibly nine prostitutes. But in that instant, I just felt sorrow for poor Brian. He looked like a scared, tender-hearted man, younger than his forty-something years, at least at heart.
He nodded finally. “Yes, and I’m your big brother.”
“That’s right, Brian. Now, I understand why you wouldn’t want to talk to Detective Webster, since he’s a police officer, but you can talk to me. I’m not here to hurt you or arrest you. I’m only here because I need answers and I think you have some of the information I need. Will you talk to me, Brian?”
“You,” he said, pointing right at me with a shaky, skinny finger. “Not him.” He tilted his head in Web’s direction. “He has to go outside.”
“Libby, no way am I leaving you alone with this—”
“It’s okay, Web,” I said with my hand held out, palm down, in the middle of the three of us. “Brian’s not going to hurt his own sister. Isn’t that right, Brian?”
Brian nodded enthusiastically. “You never hurt family.”
Web didn’t seem convinced, but after a moment or two of awkward silence, his shoulders slackened and he seemed to back down. “All right. But you have ten minutes, tops. If you’re not outside in ten minutes, I’m coming back in.”
“We’re fine with that,” I spoke for both Brian and myself.
Web shook his head slightly as he turned and walked toward the door. When he opened the screen door, he turned and said, “Brian, if you hurt her, I swear to God—”
“He’s not going to hurt me,” I said more confidently than I really felt.
The screen door slammed shut after Web exited and I turned to face Brian again. “All right, Brian. It’s just you and me now. Can I ask you a few questions?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Let’s sit down over here,” I said, motioning toward the living room.
“Okay.”
Brian shuffled toward the brown leather armchair by the fireplace and took a seat while I sat down on the edge of the matching sofa.
“All right, Brian,” I began. “So your mother told you about me, right?”
He nodded.
“How long have you known about me?”
“All my life,” he said to my great surprise. How was it possible that Brian had known about me for thirty-plus years, but I had never known he even existed? I doubted that was something he co
uld answer, so I moved on.
“What do you know about our father, Randall McLanahan?”
“I know he’s in prison. I know he murdered all those women. I know he was a preacher before he met your mother.”
Although I was instantly curious what he knew about Mom, I had a job to do. All the other questions swimming around inside my head would have to wait. “What do you know about the murders?”
“Nothin’.”
I wasn’t sure I believed him on that score, but I could tell that if he knew anything, he wasn’t about to confide in me. Not yet, anyway.
“Did your mother tell you about how she and Randy met?”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “She said they were in love in high school and she got pregnant with me. But Mamma’s parents sent her away to a girls’ home. By the time she escaped with me, Randy had graduated from high school and she couldn’t find him. That’s all I know.”
So Annie had told Brian a very cleaned-up, rose-colored version of the truth. She had not told Brian the real reason he had never known his father. I wasn’t sure whether it was sad or a bit creepy and I wondered if she still carried a torch for him, forty-some years later.
This next question was vital, but I was afraid of how he would respond. So I softened my voice and took a chance by gently laying my hand on his shoulder. “Where is your mother now?”
“I told you,” he said. “I don’t know. Mamma shows up when she has a message for me but then she disappears again.”
This was bizarre. I understood why she might not want to talk to her parents after what they had done to her when she was fifteen, but why would she remain distant with her own son? And what had he meant when he said “when she has a message for me?” Again, I had the feeling I wasn’t going to learn anything more than what he chose to volunteer, so I moved on to my final and most important question of all. I was nervous, but I steeled myself and pressed gently forward.
“I have one last question for you, Brian. Did you kill Joanna Baker? The bartender at Willie’s?”
He looked down at his fingers which he was now twiddling in his lap. “I never killed anybody in my life.”
Family Ties (Flesh & Blood Trilogy Book 2) Page 14
