Sins of the Father (Book 2, The Erin Solomon Mysteries)

by Jen Blood

  The whistling got louder suddenly, like J. had just gotten past one more barrier between us.

  “Erin,” Diggs whispered frantically.

  “I know,” I said. I tried to get hold again, but between the crumbling rock and the fact that I could only hang on with one hand, I was getting nowhere. “It’s the splint. I can’t maneuver with it.” I tried one more time, then shook my head. “Fuck it.” I ripped the splint off and tossed it up through the opening, ignoring the searing pain in my wrist as I finally caught a solid hold and pulled myself up and through.

  Once I’d birthed myself through the opening, I turned around and tossed one end of the rope back to Diggs, then began searching for something to attach my end to. I’d emerged at the top of a bare rock wall, surrounded by little but other rocks, smaller pebbles, and some scrubby brush. There were no trees to speak of. I couldn’t find anything that seemed strong enough to hold a grown man’s weight.

  “Erin?” Diggs called. There was no missing the panic in his voice.

  “Just a second, I’m almost there.”

  “I don’t know if I have a second.” He didn’t sound good. “If I tell you to run, I want you to do it, all right?”

  “Forget it,” I said. “I’m not running anywhere without you.” My hands were shaking. I expected my heart to fly right out of my chest at any minute, but I finally found a rock that was narrow enough to tie the rope around, but solid enough that it wouldn’t dislodge when Diggs started climbing. I peered through the entrance.

  “It’s solid,” I said. “Come on.”

  He tugged on the rope, just in case. Miraculously, it held.

  He heaved himself up.

  Somewhere in the cavern below, I heard a single refrain of something familiar: The Battle Hymn of the Republic. Then, it stopped. Diggs was only a foot from me now. I could see his face—the fear in his eyes, the determined set of his jaw. And then, suddenly, just when I was sure he would make it, someone jerked the rope. When the whistling started this time, it was directly below us. I couldn’t see past Diggs to figure out who was down there, or what the hell he was doing.

  “You have to go, Solomon,” Diggs ground out. He wasn’t climbing anymore. It took me a minute to realize why:

  He couldn’t.

  “I’m not leaving without you.” I lay on my stomach and peered down at him; reached down and grabbed his hand. “You’re almost there.”

  Diggs clung to the rope, his eyes as cold and as hard as blue steel, while J. tried to pull him down. Diggs kicked out and I heard the sound of his foot connecting with something—a body, presumably. He scrambled up the rest of the way, his head just clearing the opening.

  I grabbed hold of his arm to try and help pull him through. His shoulders and chest were clear when I heard the sickeningly wet sound of a knife slicing through flesh. Diggs screamed. I reached for him as he fell, my hand touching his on the way down, but the contact was fleeting. He was in my grasp… And then he was gone.

  When I peered down inside the cave, Diggs was lying on the ground, gasping for breath. Standing above him, his eyes fixed on mine, was Will Rainier.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Juarez

  After his conversation with Hank Gendreau, Juarez held a press conference in front of the Black Falls police station. Word hadn’t spread that far yet about Bonnie Saucier or the other bodies that had been found. He knew from experience that it wouldn’t take long before crews were arriving from far and wide, however, all of them intent on getting the latest scoop on a case sure to make national headlines. After the press conference came status updates, none of which showed any promise, and then a call from Dr. Sophie Laurent—who had been called in to consult on the case, and who’d been at the Saucier grave site since 6:30 that morning. Now, it was eleven o’clock. The heat was rising, the woods behind Luke and Sarah Saucier’s home was crawling with crime scene techs and police and investigators, and Juarez could think of little beyond the fact that Erin had been missing for a full twelve hours now. He returned to the relative coolness of the barren police station and took Sophie’s call.

  “It seems we’re spending a great deal of time together, Agent Juarez,” she said. “We’ve found four females, approximately eighteen to twenty-four years of age,” she began. “Three were killed within the past two to three years; one was more recent.”

  “How recent?” Juarez asked.

  “Within three to four months. All have the same mark I found on the victims in Quebec: the J. carved into the chest.”

  “Sexual assault?”

  “I’ll need to conduct more tests for that. I’ve seen no evidence of it yet, however—no seminal fluid or spermicide present on any of the remaining clothing, at any rate. We haven’t done a thorough examination of the bodies, of course, and it’s difficult to determine something like that with any certainty this long after the fact.”

  “And no idea who the victims were?”

  “Two look as though they may be indigents—possibly from Mexico or Central America. Definitely third world.”

  “The farms up here hire migrant workers, don’t they? Is it possible these girls came from that type of situation?”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” she agreed. “It’s too early for positive IDs on the others yet, of course, but we have a couple of leads.”

  It would take a more detailed examination before anyone would know the finer points of the victims’ final days: whether they had been imprisoned, the presence of any genetic material the killer may have left behind, the physical state of the victims when they were killed. Like Bonnie Saucier, strangulation was the probable cause of death. Juarez gave Sophie the go-ahead to prepare the bodies for transport, but he’d already been given instructions to have all remains shipped to D.C. No one argued that detail with him. From everything he’d seen thus far, the authorities in Maine couldn’t get rid of this case fast enough.

  When Juarez emerged from the sheriff’s office, an attractive dark-haired woman was waiting for him in the lobby. Though he had only seen her once before, in less than ideal circumstances, he still placed her immediately.

  “Dr. Everett,” he said, extending his hand to Erin’s mother as he strode forward. “Thank you for coming.”

  “What do you know so far?” she demanded, ignoring his proffered hand. “Where are your people looking?”

  “Why don’t you sit,” he suggested. “Can I get you something?”

  “I’m not here for the hospitality,” she said wearily. “I’ve been driving since five o’clock this morning… I just want to know what the hell’s happening. What’s the last thing you heard from my daughter?”

  He gave her the details of the search, providing cursory details of Will Rainier and the current theory about where he might be now. Juarez poured a cup of coffee for Kat and then one for himself, and sat on the edge of an unoccupied desk. Kat sat in a nearby office chair, holding the coffee mug with both hands. She was small like Erin—perhaps two or three inches taller with a few more curves, but hardly the larger-than-life monster Erin portrayed.

  “You’re Erin’s G-man, aren’t you?” she asked. “Juarez?”

  He raised his eyebrows in surprise. She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “She never said anything to me—we don’t discuss those things. But Maya told me. They talk.”

  She sat with her back rigid, her green eyes—eyes Erin had inherited from her—taking in everything.

  “I wanted to talk to you about your ex-husband,” he said. She didn’t look at him. Said nothing. He continued. “Erin said you told her you didn’t know what happened to his sister. That you didn’t know he and Hank Gendreau grew up together. That’s true?”

  “I never said I didn’t know about his sister. She never asked me. And as for his link with Hank… I don’t see how that’s pertinent now.”

  “I’m just trying to get any information I can that might help us find Erin. It’s hard to tell sometimes what’s pertinent and what’s not
. You knew about Adam’s sister, then?”

  “I know too much to keep track of anymore,” she said vaguely. “It’s hard to remember which secrets I can tell and which ones need to stay buried…”

  He ignored that, irritated at her unwillingness to cooperate when Erin’s life hung in the balance.

  “Did you know Adam is in the area again?” he asked. She tried very hard not to react, but he saw the barely perceptible tensing of her shoulder, a telltale spasm in her jaw. “I believe whoever killed Erin Lincoln is now after your daughter… Hank says it was either Will Rainier or your ex-husband. I don’t believe it’s your ex doing this.”

  “Where did you see him last?”

  “No one’s spotted him since he left the bar Saturday night—”

  “Not Rainier,” she interrupted. “Adam. You said you saw him?”

  Juarez hesitated. “Yes… He was at the crime scene where Bonnie Saucier’s body was found. Why?”

  “No reason. I was just curious.” She looked around the room restlessly. “What else do you need from me? I’m assuming you called me here for a reason.”

  With the exception of a couple of volunteers manning the phones, the little police station was empty. Juarez stood and went to the map, taking a moment to control his temper. He thought of Erin, suddenly—those vulnerable moments when he felt like he was actually connecting with something beyond that hard, flippant shell. With a mother like Kat Everett, it was no wonder she had difficulty showing her softer side.

  “I called you because I wanted to know if Adam ever told you what happened the weekend he went to Eagle Lake. The night that Will Rainier and Hank Gendreau stormed their campsite in the middle of the night and Will raped his sister,” he said. Anger burned in the words.

  She turned on him, surveying him coolly—as though she viewed his emotional response as some kind of weakness. “He didn’t want Erin to know about that,” she said. “I honored his wishes. What good would it have done?”

  “Did he tell you who killed his sister?” Juarez asked.

  “Gendreau didn’t tell you?” she asked. She was watching him closely, something wary in her eyes.

  “He said he didn’t know,” Juarez said. He thought of Hank’s tears when he’d told the story. We got to the campsite late that night. Jeff and Bonnie were there, passed out in the other tent. Will and I went in to wake up Erin… It was just supposed to be part of the game, you know? That’s what we did—Jeff was the one who came up with the whole thing, for Christ’s sake. He was already doing my sister; what right did he have to tell us Erin was off limits?

  “Jeff—or Adam, whatever you want to call him—woke up when Erin started screaming. According to Hank, he went crazy and went after them both. Hank thought he was going to kill them. Jeff and Will started fighting; Hank took off.”

  She turned her back on him halfway through the story and went to the map. No reaction. Not a word.

  “Do you think Will Rainier killed her?” he asked her.

  “That’s not really for me to say, is it?” She remained focused on the map, touching the colored pins with a shaking hand. It took a moment before he realized there was a physiological reason for the tremor beyond just anxiety. “Do you think he did it?”

  “Maybe,” he said honestly. “But I think if he did, there was someone else pulling the strings.” She turned and met his eye, waiting for him to continue. “I don’t think Will Rainier would have the patience, the intelligence, or even the attention span to come up with the elaborate games J. —our serial killer—has been playing for the past forty years. Will is a sexual sadist who likes little girls. Most of the victims we’ve found recently haven’t even shown obvious signs of sexual assault.”

  “But you don’t think Adam did it, either?”

  “From a purely logistical standpoint, it doesn’t seem that plausible,” he said. “He would have been gone for long periods of time while he was keeping and hunting these girls in the ‘80s, while he was living out on Payson Isle with your daughter. Even if he was just checking up on them every day or so, it would have required much more than the occasional shopping trip to the mainland.”

  She looked relieved, though she tried to hide it. “Well… There you go, then. I guess it must have been someone else.”

  “In Erin Lincoln’s journal, she mentions someone named Mister E. Do you know who that might be?”

  For the first time, he saw a flash of genuine emotion: Fear. Terror, as a matter of fact. She recovered quickly, but there was no mistaking it. She shook her head and turned back to the map.

  “Can’t say that I do,” he said. “Is that the only way she refers to him? Never by any other name?”

  “I don’t know. Your daughter hadn’t finished reading it when I left her and Diggs in Quebec. She didn’t say anything about it, though.”

  “It was probably just one of those silly codes kids have sometimes.”

  He was debating throttling her when the door opened behind him. A moment later a furry white thing came barreling toward them, headed straight for Erin’s mother. Rosie, the young bartender they’d met at the bar Saturday night, followed close behind.

  “I’m so sorry,” the girl apologized, clearly mortified at the dog’s behavior. Kat paid no attention, already on her knees to greet Einstein. “I heard what happened,” Rosie continued. “I knew something was wrong when Erin and Diggs didn’t show up to get him last night. I kept him as long as I could, but I’ve got classes this afternoon…”

  “I’ll look after him,” Kat said immediately. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

  “Oh—uh, I don’t know. Erin seems pretty attached…”

  “It’s all right,” Juarez reassured the girl. “This is Erin’s mother; she’ll take good care of him until Erin’s back.”

  Rosie breathed a sigh of relief. “D’accord. Bien. It wouldn’t be a problem, except for those damn classes.”

  Kat still ignored them both. Einstein wagged his tail ecstatically, lapping her face. She got off the floor with some difficulty and took the dog’s bag from Rosie without a word. “I’ll just take him for a walk, then,” she said.

  Juarez hurried after her. He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder just outside the door. “Hang on—I still have questions.”

  “Which I’ll answer shortly,” she said. She glared at the hand still touching her. He removed it before she removed it for him. “I just want to stretch my legs. I’m not under arrest, am I? I’m assuming I’m not a suspect in all this…”

  “I just thought you might be anxious to do whatever you could to ensure Erin was returned safely. I mean… You do want her returned safely, don’t you?”

  Anger flashed in her eyes. “Don’t make assumptions about what I do and don’t want for my daughter. You don’t know the first thing about me. Now, I’ll be back in a moment. Don’t you have work you need to do somewhere around here?”

  She stalked out without waiting for an answer. Juarez wasn’t at all surprised when she headed straight for a silver Prius in the parking lot out front, put the dog inside, and drove away.

  Erin and all of her hang-ups were making more sense by the second.

  Rosie was still in the station when he returned, studying the maps on the wood paneled walls intently. Juarez grabbed his jacket with the intention of going after Kat for a few follow-up questions.

  “I can walk you out,” he said to the girl. “Wouldn’t want you to miss your classes.”

  She made no move to leave. “So, it’s true, then?” she asked. “Bonnie Saucier is dead? And still no sign of Erin or Diggs?”

  He stopped, a wave of fatigue washing over him. It had been too long since he’d eaten, and far longer since he’d slept last. Lucia’s sweet voice whispered in his head. How do you expect to save the world if you can’t even save yourself?

  He turned and faced the girl. “It’s true,” he confirmed.

  “And there were other bodies, oui?”

  “I can’t rea
lly discuss that…”

  “Ah,” she said. She nodded understandingly. “Pas de probleme. You think Will did it, though?”

  “We don’t know anything yet. We’re investigating every possible lead.”

  “But he’s one of the leads you’re investigating, non?”

  “What’s this about, Rose?” he asked wearily. “Is there something I can answer for you?”

  She hesitated. Her fingernails were painted bright fuchsia; she gnawed on her thumbnail and stared back at the map for another minute or more before she finally spoke.

  “When I was un petite fille, ma mere dated Will Rainier one summer, d’accord?”

  Suddenly Juarez was all ears. “Okay,” he said cautiously.

  “She broke up with him and went away at the end of the summer, parce que she found him… With me, you know? I moved in with my memere after that.”

  He thought of Jamie Flint’s story, about the woman who worked for her. The dog Rainier had killed. How much damage had this man done over the years? And why the hell hadn’t anyone stopped him? “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t know…”

  She waved him off. “Non, c’est bien. I screamed like a banshee. Just about bit his pecker off, too. He probably would’ve killed me if my memere didn’t tell him she’d finish the job if he ever came near me again. He stayed away after that, oui.”

  Juarez squelched a smile. “Well… Good for you. And that’s good information about Will—”

  “That’s not why I’m telling you.” She shook her head rapidly. “One night we were at his house, and I was sleeping on his couch—he didn’t have a spare bedroom or nothing. Sometimes I’d sleep in his bed with ma mere when he was out wandering in the woods with Sheriff Grivois. They was always out there together, drinking and shooting and drinking some more… But that night he was home, so I was on the couch and this friend came to visit. My maman didn’t like him—she wouldn’t come out, and she told me one time that Will might be bad but he wasn’t so bad as his friend.”