Coen and Sawyer stood on the porch as the sheriff locked up the Dockerys’ house behind them. The two FBI agents were headed back to the Denver field office now that they were satisfied that Moss wasn’t in the picture. The state police forensics unit had lifted some prints and had already ruled Moss out as the perp, via a software application the forensics team had on hand to compare with the national database.
It was odd that no known offenders were apparently involved. The suspect was not known to the system because he or she had never been arrested before and subsequently entered into the National Crime Information Center (NCIC) database. Unfortunately, it would be another day before additional databases could be searched for prints. There were other systems, such as Interpol and the United States Armed Forces collection cataloged through the Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification (IAFIS) at the FBI. The technicians had already uploaded the prints and requested an expedited search of all available networks.
Of course, none of that mattered if the perp had never been fingerprinted.
“Who else was on that guest list? We can now eliminate anyone who has a record, can’t we?” Sawyer asked, cupping his hands and breathing into his palms as he stepped off the porch. There wasn’t much warmth to be had. Calvert and Royce were already walking to their vehicle with the intention of returning to the conference room at the police station they were currently using as a workspace. The additional deputies the sheriff had pulled away from patrol had already come and gone. The quiet street was finally returning to normal. “I know you said it wasn’t a large wedding party, but we have to be missing something else.”
“Not really. If the two murders are connected, that alone rules out all of them. There were eleven people in attendance—the bride and groom, the parents of the bride and groom, the pastor, an aunt who came in from out of town, Heidi Connolly, Martin Eyles, and Brettany.” Coen shoved his hands in his jacket, nodding to the deputy in his patrol car who had been left behind. The engine of his vehicle was running idle, and it wouldn’t be long before his replacement arrived when the shift changed. “Two of those people are dead, leaving eight individuals with rather soft alibis for Eyles’ murder. All three couples say they were home together, the pastor claims he was at home with his family, the aunt flew back to New York two days after she came down from the mountain, and the bride and groom each say they were with one another.”
“Have you—”
“Don’t even think about saying that Brettany could somehow be involved with these killings, or else I’ll wipe that fucking dimple off your cheek.” Coen glanced back and saw that the sheriff was removing his hat before opening the driver’s side door of the cruiser parked across the street. It wasn’t long before the flashing lights were abruptly shut off, leaving the full moon shining down and illuminating the numerous lawns covered in snow. Almost every house had Christmas lights of some sort, announcing the upcoming merry holiday. He’d hoped for Brettany to join her family in those festivities, but he wasn’t so sure that was going to happen. “I’m beginning to believe that Moss was never connected to this, but I can’t figure out what caused the perp to try and use Moss’ MO as a cover.”
“I was going ask if you have considered that Moss is behind this clusterfuck just to mess with us, but I’ll wait until you take a less threatening approach to my ideas before I propose anymore,” Sawyer stated wryly, moaning in pleasure when Coen opened Brettany’s front door and allowed the heat from within to wash over them with a warm welcome. “What is that delicious smell?”
“Brettany always bakes when she’s upset.” Coen could tell from the faint, sweet fragrance that it had been at least a couple of hours since either cookies or a cake were in the oven. “Chocolate chip cookies, maybe?”
Coen leaned down and snatched up what looked to be a clean towel near the heat register. Either Brettany or her mother must have washed the others that had been used earlier to wipe off their boots. It wasn’t reasonable for them to remove their shoes should they be needed quickly outside.
“Don’t you dare walk on Brettany’s hardwood floor without wiping your boots off first.” It didn’t take Coen long before the soles of his winter gear were dry. He handed off the towel to Sawyer, who was regarding him too closely in what appeared to be suspicion. “Keep your thoughts to yourself.”
“I was only going to say that you shouldn’t fuck this one up, man.”
Sawyer rested a hand against the wall so he could balance one ankle across his knee while wiping away the moisture on the bottom of his boot. He never looked up from his task at hand. It was frustrating to say the least.
“What does that even mean?” Coen demanded in a low voice so that no one in the living room caught wind of their conversation. He leaned back slightly to see who was within hearing distance and caught sight of Mr. and Mrs. Lambert sitting in the living room. “I haven’t been in a relationship recently enough to mess anything up.”
“Exactly,” Sawyer pointed out as he started to wipe down his other boot. He waited until he was done to make his point. “You haven’t taken anyone seriously in forever, because you’ve got this mindset that no woman will see you as marriage material.”
“Marriage material? Really?” Coen unzipped his jacket, but didn’t take it off right away. There was a good chance this conversation was going to be taken back outside. “Who the hell said anything about me wanting anything to do with marriage?”
“Fine,” Sawyer conceded casually, taking his time spreading the towel out near the register so that it would dry quicker. It was as if he was carrying on a conversation about the damned weather. “Commitment, then. You don’t see yourself as the settling down type because you worry how others see you in regards to your brother’s past troubles.”
“My brother has nothing to do with my commitment issues, dickhead.”
“So you admit to having commitment issues then?” Sawyer flashed a smile, showing that irritating dimple that Coen fought the urge to wipe off his face.
“I didn’t mean it like that, and you damn well know it,” Coen argued, throwing up his hands in frustration. “I’m done with you, and I’m done with this conversation.”
“You know what I think?” Sawyer inquired too indifferently for Coen’s liking.
“No, I don’t want to know what you think.” Coen finally removed his jacket and hung it up on the coat rack over Brettany’s. “What I want is to figure out who killed Heidi Connolly and Martin Eyles so that I can take my frozen ass back to Florida.”
“I think that you believe you’re not good enough for someone like Brettany Lambert.” It was as if Sawyer hadn’t heard a damned word Coen had said in the last five minutes. “Look, I’m not saying you two have known each other long enough for a long-term commitment or anything like that, but we were all with you last night. It’s obvious you care about her, and seeing her reaction to you? Well, the feeling is clearly mutual. Don’t throw that away because of some shit you made up in your head to protect your ego. You need to face the fact that she couldn’t ask for a more decent guy. You’d be hard pressed to find a better woman. You stay true to who you are, Coen. Why do you think we keep you around?”
Sawyer slapped Coen on the back before he entered the living room and asked how they were holding up. Was he right? Coen thinned his lips in annoyance that he was even giving what Sawyer said any weight. He hadn’t been the one watching Brettany for the last five weeks, twenty-four-seven. He didn’t see the sweet, compassionate woman who always put her family and friends first. She deserved that white picket fence and a husband who didn’t have the baggage of a Boeing 747.
“Have you seen Chad?” Louise asked, walking in from the hallway between the living room and the kitchen. It was obvious by her bloodshot eyes and red nose that she had been crying. “I was really hoping we could go home. I’m not feeling so good.”
“Chad’s in the kitchen with Brettany and Simone,” Linda replied, leaning forward to collect the various glasses a
nd plates that had been left behind on the coffee table. Coen frowned in concern, knowing that Brettany would have had them rinsed and loaded into the dishwasher the moment her guests had finished their food. “Are you okay, dear?”
“I’m fine,” Louise answered with a hitch in her breath, though she was already shaking her head in disagreement with something Linda had said. “But no one is in the kitchen. I just checked in there.”
A sliver of unease snaked its way through Coen as he nodded toward Sawyer to check out Louise’s statement. He quickly made his way upstairs, taking two at a time. Both bedrooms and the shared bathroom were empty. He quickly descended the staircase, passing by Linda and Louise who were talking to one another about what could have happened to everyone.
“Brettany, Simone, and Chad are all gone.” Sawyer already had his cell phone pressed to his ear. “Calvert, we have a problem over here.”
“I need to know exactly how many minutes have passed since you saw Brettany last,” Coen demanded, quickly making his way over to the window. The deputy was still sitting in his car. There were no other vehicles or individuals in sight. “Two, five, ten minutes?”
“It’s been maybe five minutes since Simone went into the kitchen,” Jim Lambert answered, wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders. It was clear he was trying to keep it together for his wife. “Chad maybe a couple of minutes before that.”
Coen would have liked to reassure them that Brettany was safe and sound, but he couldn’t waste a precious second. Time was of the essence.
“There’s only one other exit they could have taken.” Coen brushed past Sawyer, though his teammate was close on his heels. “Through the garage.”
“I took a quick look and Brettany’s car is still in there.” Sawyer flipped the light switch as Coen stepped down into the garage, heading straight for the door that would lead to the side of the house. “Any sign they went out the door?”
Coen stared down at the melting snow that had fallen onto the garage floor. Someone had opened the exit, but all three? There was no doubt that Simone was carrying her firearm, so why would she have allowed Brettany and Chad to leave with someone?
Unless no one else was involved.
Unless she was taken by surprise by someone inside the house who Brettany trusted.
It was a simple process of elimination, leaving only one individual who had the ability to obtain the upper hand and pull this off.
Chad Perkins.
Brettany would never have suspected, just as the rest of them hadn’t connected the dots. Hell, it still didn’t make any sense. That would have to come later, because right now, the only woman who’d ever made him want something more for his future was in dire jeopardy.
Coen grabbed the knob, twisted the round hunk of metal, and swung open the door. The bitter wind hit him in the face, but he could clearly see the muddled tracks that led to the back of the house. It shouldn’t take long to locate them, but he prayed that it wasn’t long enough for Perkins to execute whatever plans he’d dreamed up.
“They couldn’t have gone far.” Coen drew his weapon and eased around the corner, using the small LED flashlight he’d used at the neighbors. Sure enough, the endless trail led to the back of the house and most likely to the edge of the woods beyond. Perkins didn’t know it yet, but Coen had the upper hand. He knew the layout of this conservation area like the back of his hand. The hunt was on and there was no time to waste. “Let’s go get this son of a bitch.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
‡
Brett had lost the feeling in most of her extremities as they continued to slog through the two feet of snow and ice. The nighttime temperatures were below freezing and no one in their right mind should be out here exposed to these elements without the proper clothing. Chad didn’t care, as it was obviously his intention to kill her and Simone, leaving their bodies out here to freeze.
It didn’t matter that she could no longer physically sense her hands and feet. Mentally and emotionally, she was too terrified to cry at the fact that her close friend of so many years was the one responsible for Heidi and Martin’s deaths.
How could this be? How could she have missed all the signs? When had he changed into the animal that was now pushing them deeper into the woods?
It was too difficult for her to wrap her mind around the fact that Chad had somehow become so morally corrupt and completely desperate, enough so that he would kill anyone let alone those he had considered friends for most of his life.
“Ch-Chad, you don’t w-want to do this.” Brett barely got those words out through her chattering teeth. Simone was still a couple of steps ahead of them, though there were some clouds moving in that blocked the moonlight and in turn blended the woman into the shadows. Would she make her move soon? She was a trained agent and no doubt had a plan to get them out of this dangerous situation. “Tell me why, and m-maybe we can find a way out of th-this.”
“Heidi…I don’t know what happened. She couldn’t keep her mouth shut. It’s all her fault. All of it. Damn it!”
Chad pushed Brett so hard in the back that not even her outstretched arms could prevent her from falling forward. She sunk into the cold snow, unable to turn her face away in time from smacking into the heavy white slush that was beginning to harden with the drop in temperature since the sun went down. She scrambled to her knees and turned around quickly in order to protect herself should Chad come at her with the knife.
“Tell me, Chad!” Brett almost fell back again as she tried to get to her feet. Anger bubbled up inside that someone she considered a friend could do something so horrific. She would give anything to be back inside the warmth of her house, but wrapped safely in Coen’s arms most of all. “We can still fix this. We can get you a good lawyer and—”
“Shut up! Just shut up! I can’t go to prison.”
Chad squinted as he tried to look behind her. Brett glanced over her shoulder, seeing nothing that could have garnered his attention. She needed to keep him on track so that Simone could take him by surprise.
Wait.
Where had Simone gone?
“Chad, t-tell me what happened. I need to understand.” Brett needed to distract him for the sake of her and Simone’s life. There had to be a way out of this. “I don’t u-understand.”
“Heidi and I had sex, Brett. Isn’t it obvious? We fucked everywhere we could think of, as often as we could. She just had this way about her that I couldn’t ignore.” Chad didn’t seem to be affected by the weather. As a matter of fact, there even appeared to be a sheen of sweat across his forehead every time the clouds would part and allow the moonlight to slip through, allowing her to see his features. “I was going to end it, but she was going to tell Louise unless I called off the wedding. She liked screwing around behind Louise’s back, because the woman was vengeful and mean. I wasn’t going to let her take my future from me, so I thought I could scare her into—”
“Scare her?” Brett couldn’t envision the terror Heidi had experienced when she realized Chad had been pushed to the edge of sanity. Was that even possible? Or had he always been unstable and they’d all dismissed it? “You murdered Heidi, Chad. Did you even think about your parents? Her parents? What about Louise? I don’t understand why you would kill Martin, too. You could have come forward if Heidi’s death was an accident—”
“Martin suspected that Heidi and I had been involved,” Chad yelled, almost as if he were a child trying to argue his way out of trouble. Once again, she was struck with a sense of disbelief that this was her friend from college. “The little toad followed her everywhere. He would have told his lawyer about the two of us fucking around. He would have shifted the suspicion on me, and I couldn’t have that happen. Who knows what they would have found out? Maybe Heidi told him what we were doing behind Louise’s back. After I discovered the real reason Flynn was here, I realized that I could throw off the investigation by using Shepherd Moss as a scapegoat. I still can when he stabs all of us. Only I wi
ll survive to tell our harrowing tale.”
Chad pressed the side of his hand against his forehead, the blade of the knife firmly in his grip. He’d whispered those last few words, causing Brett to hold her breath in absolute terror.
She wasn’t ready to die. She’d just found someone she didn’t want to live without.
“How d-did you know Coen was h-here looking for Moss?” Brett had to keep him talking to give Simone the ability to ambush him or Coen time to find her with reinforcements. “I n-never told anyone. I never said a word.”
“I was in your house, Brett.” Chad took a threatening step toward her. It was then she remembered the stool in the laundry room being out of place and the missing matches. It had been Chad all along. “I heard every word the two of you said about Shepherd Moss and your link to him through your friend. It was easy to make that connection afterward. I was with you when Shailyn Doyle’s testimony was aired on national television. Don’t you remember me sitting there next to you? It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. You never were as bright as you always thought you were.”
Chad had been the one to hear the stories of her childhood and the fond memories she’d had of Shailyn. He’d been there for her as she watched the news anchor describe the torture her friend had suffered, unable to believe something so appalling could happen to someone she cared about.
Shailyn had survived, though.
Brett could, too.
There was still so much for her to do here in this life she’d been blessed with, and she refused to sit back and let Chad take it all from her. She had once cared for him very much, but he wasn’t the same man she’d met back in their first English class together at college.
The man standing in front of her was a…monster. He was a twisted murderer. Isn’t that how Coen described Moss?
“It’s o-over, Chad.” Brett took another tentative step backward, hoping to have a chance to run. She never once took her gaze from the gun in his hand. “No one is going to b-believe that Shepherd Moss got past all those officers in front of my house and took me without anyone noticing. Simone will tell them the truth.”
Honest Intentions (The Safeguard Series, Book Five) Page 17
