From the Shadows

by B. J Daniels

  Except Casey knew it wasn’t.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  LEROY LOOKED UP in surprise as Finnegan and Casey came out of the woods. The sky was filled with smoke and dust, still obscuring the area where the hotel had been. He rushed to them, seeing that they were covered in dust and dirt. “I thought you both were dead.”

  “We almost were,” Finn said. “The tunnel caved in behind us. The man who took Casey didn’t make it out.”

  “Emery Gray,” Casey said. “He got me out of the hotel before he blew the hotel up. Did everyone get out?”

  Leroy nodded. “Emery?”

  “He was the on-site maintenance man for years,” she said, her words coming faster. “He didn’t kill Megan. Or Claude. Or Devlin.”

  “He told you that?”

  She nodded and coughed, no doubt from all the dust. “He kept a notebook of the women he’d killed. I recognized the handwriting from one that Finn showed me he’d found in a notebook hidden in the hotel. He wrote down the names of every young woman and any information he had about them as if keeping a record for the parents when the day came that he’d have to confess what he’d done. His sister Vi knew. He said she told him not to write anything down, but he said he had to—for the women he’d killed.”

  Leroy was shaking his head. “That doesn’t mean—”

  “Marshal, I think you’d better listen to her,” Finnegan said.

  “The person who killed Megan, Devlin and Claude, it wasn’t Emery,” she repeated. “He didn’t put the padlock on the wine-cellar door. He didn’t kill them.” Leroy could see that she was stumbling over her words, frantic to get them out, to make him understand before it was too late.

  “Get her some water,” he said to the deputy standing nearby.

  “I don’t need water,” she cried. “The killer is one of the staff. You have to believe me. I don’t think the killer is finished yet. The others...they’re in danger.”

  He studied her for a moment before he pulled out his radio and made the call. “Is everyone still over at the motel?”

  “All here.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Two of them are sitting outside. A couple of them went in earlier.”

  “I think you’d better check on them. I’ll wait.” He looked at Casey. She held her breath, the deputy seeming to take forever to get back to him.

  When the officer came back on the line, Leroy heard the bad news. “Don’t touch anything. I’m on my way.” He looked at Finnegan and Casey. He couldn’t very well leave them here. Motioning to a deputy, he said, “Take them to the motel, and get them a room. I’ll get their statements as soon as I can.”

  Casey grabbed his sleeve, tears in her eyes. “Who’s dead?”

  Leroy swore under his breath. They would know soon enough. “Jason Underwood.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  LEROY PUSHED PAST the deputy standing guard outside the motel room. As he did, he saw the man hanging from the light fixture in the middle of the room. A chair lay on its side beneath him. The breeze caught a loose strip of bedsheet and lifted it into the air.

  “We didn’t cut him down after we checked, and there were no vitals,” Hepner said. “Might be a suicide. He left a note.”

  Leroy stared at Jason Underwood’s swollen face and protruding tongue and the overturned chair below him before turning back to the deputy. He held out his hand. Hepner put a clear plastic evidence bag into it. Inside he could see the handwritten note.

  I’ve ruined my every chance of happiness I’ve ever had. Patience, please forgive me. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to hurt anyone.

  “Still no sign of Patience Riley?” Leroy asked Hepner, who shook his head. “Coroner called?”

  “On his way. Again,” the deputy said.

  “Right. Take photos. Then you can cut him down,” Leroy said and stepped outside.

  In the distance, the smoke and dust had started to settle. The once-famous landmark no longer stood against the western horizon. The Crenshaw Hotel was gone. He rubbed a hand over his face before settling his gaze again on the three standing outside the motel.

  He kept thinking about Casey Crenshaw. She was convinced he had more than one killer. As he walked toward the now-even-smaller group huddled outside, he asked, “Any of you know Jason’s handwriting?”

  Their eyes all widened as they took a look. “Is he...?” Jen asked, and Shirley began to cry.

  “It’s his handwriting,” Benjamin said, and seeing that Leroy obviously needed more than that to convince him, he added, “Here. He wrote me a donation check for some research I’m doing.” He opened his wallet and took out the check.

  Jason had signed his name and also added in the notation section that it was a donation for research.

  Leroy checked it against the alleged suicide note. They matched. He handed back the check and turned as Casey and Finn exited from the patrol car that had just driven up.

  * * *

  CASEY STOOD UNDER the warm spray of the shower and closed her eyes. She’d been through a nightmare, and it wasn’t over. A killer had lured them all back to the hotel. She kept thinking about what Emery had said, about an evil that lived in the hotel, an evil that made bad things happen.

  She didn’t believe in that any more than she believed in ghosts. The evil was in people—not in the walls of a building or even in the basement.

  The door of the bathroom opened, startling her for a moment before Finn stepped in. The marshal had gotten them adjoining rooms and let them clean up before they had to give their statements.

  Casey knew that Finn had wanted to give her some space—just not too much, from the look on his face. He’d showered, a towel wrapped around that slim waist.

  “I just wanted to be sure you were all right,” he said.

  She smiled and motioned for him to join her. It took little persuading. He dropped the towel and stepped into the shower, pulling her to him. She leaned into his warm body as the water rippled over them. He smelled good; he felt even better.

  Casey looked up into his handsome face. “You saved my life. I haven’t thanked you.”

  He shook his head. “No thanks necessary.”

  “Finn, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here.”

  “But I am here.” He kissed her gently. “I’ll be here as long as you need me, as long as you want me.”

  “That could be a very long time,” she said and kissed him.

  It wasn’t until they were dressed that she told him her theory about the invitations.

  “Your grandmother sent them?” he said in surprise, then nodded. “I suppose there is a way to find out. You said she would have had the family attorney take care of it?”

  “Yes, and he’s been anxious to talk to me since her death. Anna had already signed the hotel and land over to me, but apparently there was more I was to be told.”

  * * *

  LEROY TOOK BOTH Casey Crenshaw’s and Finnegan James’s statements. He’d just finished with Finn when Hepner called him aside.

  “A highway patrolman just pulled over Patience Riley,” Hepner said from the doorway.

  Leroy couldn’t believe that she’d turned up. He’d been so sure she was dead and they just hadn’t located her body yet. “Patch him through to my cell phone.”

  The moment the patrolman came on the line, Leroy said, “She’s wanted for questioning in a triple-murder investigation. Don’t let her out of your sight. Can you bring her here?” He’d find a way to keep her under lock and key until he could transport her to the jail. But right now, he wanted to hear what she had to say.

  He disconnected and turned to see Hepner waiting.

  “That warrant you asked the judge for?” the deputy said. “We got it. Several of the crime techs have gone over to search the Mullen house.”
>
  Leroy doubted Vi Mullen would be surprised—if she hadn’t already left town, given what Casey Crenshaw had told him.

  “She’ll want to know about her brother,” Hepner said.

  Finnegan and Casey had given them the location where they’d last seen Emery, but it could take days to find the body, let alone the room where the man had held Casey, and recover any evidence of the murders.

  “He is presumed dead at this point,” Leroy said, although he’d learned a long time ago not to presume anything.

  It didn’t take long for the highway patrolman to bring him Patience. She had resisted arrest so had been cuffed and had her rights read to her by the time Leroy had her back in Buckhorn.

  “Why would you resist arrest unless you had something to hide?” Leroy demanded.

  “Are you serious? He told me he was taking me back to Buckhorn for questioning. I had no intention of ever coming back here. I just assumed this was Jason’s doing. He did everything possible to keep me from leaving. Look, I’m married. I made a mistake with Jason. I didn’t want to see him again.” She seemed to notice that Leroy had gone quiet. “What?” She looked from him to his deputy standing by the motel-room door. “What is it you aren’t telling me?” The color drained from her face as if she suddenly knew. “Jason. He’s...he’s dead?”

  “Apparently he hung himself.”

  “That’s ridiculous. He might threaten to do something like that, but he would never...” She was shaking her head. “No.” She must have realized that he was still watching her closely. “Wait. You can’t think I had anything to do with it?”

  “He left what appears to be a suicide note.”

  “I want to see it,” she demanded. “I know his handwriting.”

  Leroy considered it for a moment before he nodded to his deputy, who retrieved the evidence bag with the note in it. He handed it to her.

  She stared down at the note through the plastic and frowned. “This is the note he wrote to me before I left. I gave it back to him. This isn’t a suicide note.”

  Leroy had suspected as much. His list of suspects had dropped to three. Benjamin, Shirley and Jen. Benjamin would have been the likely suspect, not that Shirley and Jen didn’t seem equally capable.

  Hepner appeared, looking like the cat who’d eaten the canary. “The crime team found something they thought you’d want to see. It was found in Dr. Claude Drake’s wallet.” He held up what appeared to be a note inside an evidence bag. Meet me in the woods.

  Leroy looked from the note to Hepner.

  “Those droplets?” Hepner said. “They appear to be blood. You can see that the note is old. Dr. Drake had been carrying it around for some time. Probably ten years.”

  “You think the blood might be Megan Broadhurst’s? That he found this—” he met the deputy’s gaze “—where she was killed.”

  “Why else hang on to it all these years? If, for whatever reason, the killer wasn’t able to retrieve it at the scene,” Hepner said, “Claude could have picked it up. We also found one in the same handwriting with the same wording wadded up and stuffed deep in Devlin Wright’s pocket.”

  Leroy felt his pulse jump. Their first good lead. “I assume you have examined the handwriting of our suspects?” Hepner smiled in affirmation. “Who wrote this note?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  JEN GLANCED UP as the marshal walked toward her. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew. She smiled to herself, thinking of her mother, who would say “I always knew it would end badly for Jennifer. She just couldn’t seem to help herself when it came to trouble.”

  It was true. When she’d lured Megan into that spot in the woods, she’d told herself she wasn’t going to kill her. The rock had just been lying there on the ground as if it was meant to be. Poor little rich girl hadn’t seen it coming, but she should have. She’d been asking for it. Before Megan died, Jen had crouched down next to her because, as her mother would tell you, Jen always had to have the last word.

  She’d been at the creek when luckily she’d heard the half-drunk Shirley busting through the woods like a herd of elephants. She’d known she couldn’t let Shirley see her washing off the blood and getting rid of the rock she’d used to kill Megan, so she’d finished and hurried back to the fire. There’d been no time to get rid of the body. Nor had she known how to, until recently she’d discovered the tunnel from the outbuilding—and that handy hunter’s cart.

  When she’d sneaked out Friday night to meet with Claude—fortunately, Shirley was a deep sleeper—she’d just happened to see the old man going through the woods. Curious, she’d followed him. She’d seen him go into the shed. Peeking inside through a crack in the wall, she’d watched him lift the trapdoor and disappear through it, the door closing behind him—but not all the way.

  She’d been intrigued and had stepped inside the dilapidated outbuilding. As she’d knelt down to lift the trapdoor, she saw why it hadn’t closed completely. There was a dusty bone caught in it. Glancing down into the dimly lit space, she could see what appeared to be a sloped dirt drop to the bottom.

  Rising, she’d let the trapdoor close.

  She’d made only one mistake—the note she’d given Megan to meet in the woods. She’d forgotten to pick it up when she’d left the body to go get cleaned up in the creek. By the time she heard Shirley screaming and returned, the note was gone. One of the staff had picked it up.

  She’d known who. She’d seen the smudge of blood on his fingers before he’d wiped it away as he and the others stood over Megan’s body. She’d thought then that she would have to kill him. The note was evidence. But then she’d realized that he hadn’t taken it to show the marshal. He’d taken it as a memento.

  She might have let it go even after the reunion, but he’d opened his wallet that first night to offer to help pay for the beer, and she’d seen it. The fool still had the note. If her handwriting could be compared to that note along with Megan’s blood...

  Claude had actually come into the woods thinking he was smarter than she was. He misunderstood why she’d gotten him there. He had actually thought she’d gotten him there for sex? That she was that desperate? The boy genius hadn’t expected her to be the killer. Like Megan, he never knew what hit him.

  Devlin had to go because of that moment at the bar when he’d seen what everyone else had missed. Jason had been trying to come up with a timeline as to where everyone was when Megan was killed. Jen saw Devlin glance at her and quickly look away. He’d known. Because he’d seen her in the woods that night? She’d seen him. She’d even taken his photo with Megan.

  Once she’d started, she couldn’t seem to stop. She’d remembered how Jason had felt sorry for her just the other night and taken her into the woods. She would have paid back his kindness, but he hadn’t wanted her. He’d wanted to talk about that bitch Megan.

  The marshal stepped in front of her. “Jennifer Mullen, you are under arrest for the murders of Megan Broadhurst, Claude Drake and Devlin Wright and wanted for questioning in the death of Jason Underwood. You have the right to remain silent—”

  “That’s hilarious, Marshal,” she interrupted. “I’ve never been silent in my life.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CASEY PUT DOWN the top on the convertible and glanced over at Finn. After several weeks in Buckhorn, they were finally leaving. The marshal said he didn’t think they would be called back for Jen’s trial. Emery was dead and Vi had thrown herself on the mercy of the court. It was over.

  “I didn’t want to believe any of them were capable of murder,” Casey said as she looked down the main drag and wondered if she would ever see this place again. “But once I realized Emery hadn’t killed Megan...”

  “You thought it was Jason,” Finn said, proving once again how well he knew her, as he buckled up his seat belt.

  She nodded sheepishly. “Maybe I just wanted it
to be him. Now I feel terrible about that. How did Jen get him to hang himself?”

  “I heard drug residue was found in one of the two glasses in the room, along with a bottle of booze.”

  “So Jen pretended to go to her room, then sneaked in the back door with a bottle and offered him a drink. Still...”

  “Jen is a lot stronger than she looks and definitely determined,” Finn said.

  “Angry and bitter. I saw that in her, but no more than Patience and the others.”

  “Like Jen’s aunt,” he said. Vi had broken down and admitted that she’d helped her brother try to scare everyone away from the hotel. Her brother Emery, when she’d informed him that the hotel was going to be sold, had returned to Buckhorn to try to cover up his crimes. He’d confessed to his sister about the women he’d killed and hidden in the underbelly of the hotel.

  Vi did everything she could to protect him, including trying to stop the sale and even making an offer herself. When that failed, she’d pretended to be Megan’s ghost to try to scare away the people who’d moved into the hotel, starting with Finnegan James, while her brother spent his nights digging up the bodies and trying to remove them. Her brother had shown her the secret passages within the hotel so she could move about without being caught. It had been her in the woods Saturday night.

  “I always knew Vi was a force of nature,” Casey said. Vi swore that she’d tried to stop Emery. But with time running out, he had taken matters into his own hands. He’d always worked around construction and had some experience with explosives. He decided the only way to end it was to blow the place up, but he couldn’t kill Casey. So he’d gotten her out.

  “I would imagine the law will go easy on Vi since she was just trying to protect her brother,” Casey said.

  Finn lifted a brow. “Or merely protecting herself and her reputation in town. The months I lived here, I saw that she was like the mayor of Buckhorn, the way she butted into everyone’s business. Imagine if people found out what her brother did. She would have done just about anything so that didn’t happen. And she did. She’d dressed up like Megan and run through the woods and sneaked around the hotel.” Casey laughed, imagining how embarrassing that would have been for the woman.