by Stone, Mary
Cameron smiled at her and leaned back. Sully shifted in the background and Cameron slowly raised his hands to keep them where they could be easily seen. Cuffed or not, any change in position made Sully twitch. “Tell that to my father,” Cameron said. “You may need to remind him that he has a son first. I guarantee you he won’t be happy that you brought that up.”
She refused to be driven off topic. “If you were him, if you were this…” Winter gritted her teeth, forcing herself to say the phrase, “Baby Preacher, where would you go to hide?”
Cameron considered this for a long time. Eventually, he shrugged and looked at Winter, bright eyes dancing in amusement. “Someplace significant.” Cameron’s voice was almost wistful. “Someplace I could feel closer to a dad who loved me enough to take me away like that.”
“And you believe Douglas Kilroy loved Jaime?” Her throat tightened. “Do you also believe Jaime loved Kilroy in return?”
Cameron nodded. “Without a doubt. The Preacher probably fed into all that little boy’s fantasies, let him know how powerful he was. Words like that from a father are like a drug.” He looked wistful now, his voice softening. “An addiction. A son would do anything for the man who made him feel like the king of the world.”
“But why would Kilroy choose this particular boy?”
Cameron laughed. “You’re the federal agent. You figure it out.”
“I will,” Winter said with a certainty she didn’t feel. “But I’d like to know your thoughts.”
Feed the ego, she reminded herself.
“Maybe Baby Preacher reminded Daddy Preacher of someone he’d lost at some point.”
“Is that why Jaime’s family was targeted? Because he reminded Kilroy of someone?”
Cameron lifted a shoulder. “Maybe. Why do you keep calling him Jaime?” His gaze grew sly. “Don’t you mean Justin? Justin Black? Also known as your baby brother?”
She should have known.
Prisoners had very little else to do than watch TV or read the news. While their internet searches had restrictions, all the news sites were open for any of them to view whenever they got access.
Winter refused to be baited. “Do you believe that is why he was targeted?”
“Do you mean why your family was targeted, Agent Black?” He chuckled when she just stared at him. “That is a very good question. One I bet you’ve been asking yourself for, what, thirteen years.” He raised the tone of his voice, attempting to sound like a woman. “Why my mommy? Why my daddy? Why my sweet little innocent baby brother?” He laughed again, his voice going back to normal. “And the biggest question of all…why not me, right, Winter Black?”
The laugh grew louder as Winter pushed to her feet. She turned to Sully. “I’m done here.”
Cameron wasn’t. His laugh was crazed now, almost hysterical. “Don’t you wonder why you weren’t special enough for him to take you with him too? You weren’t even special enough for him to make sure you were good and truly dead.”
The door clicked open, and Winter strode calmly through the opening, keeping her back straight and her hands by her sides, even though she only wanted to run.
“He didn’t even take the time to kill you,” Cameron shrieked. “You didn’t matter enough. Weren’t worthy enough. You didn’t even—”
The door slammed shut, cutting off the terrible words.
“You okay?” Sully asked as he jogged to keep up with her long stride.
Okay?
She almost laughed.
She hadn’t been okay for thirteen years. And she didn’t think she’d ever be okay again.
21
Winter shrugged her coat back on and pulled it tight around her. It wasn’t the chill in the wind that made her feel frozen to the bone, it was the chill of having spoken to Arkwell. He’d seemed reasonable, personable even, and then suddenly there would come that flash in his eyes, and she could see the monster that dwelt within him.
But that was why she had wanted to talk to him, wasn’t it? Precisely to probe the mind of a monster. A monster like Kilroy. A monster like her brother?
Autumn stood as Winter entered the lobby and slipped her coat on wordlessly, taking her cue from Winter. The silence was a welcome part of the friendship, a soothing balm to the phrase “Baby Preacher” that still rankled in Winter’s head.
She braced against a brisk winter wind that brought a bone-chilling cold on its teeth and walked quickly to the promise of a warm car without guards or madmen or noises of any sort. It was kind of a mobile sanctuary, a refuge behind glass windows and steel.
Autumn was barely keeping up with her. Winter suddenly realized she was setting a grueling pace and slowed down, giving her friend a chance to catch up.
“Went rough?” Autumn’s face was flushed, her eyes worried.
Winter paused in the parking lot, letting the wind whip around her, and looked back at the heavy building behind them. Thick walls and bars on the windows couldn’t keep Cameron’s words contained inside. The memory of what he’d said swirled around her, the words winding themselves through every fiber of her being and echoing in her mind until they became part of her.
“There’s work yet to be done.”
The phrase stood between them. When Autumn spoke, her voice seemed guarded. “That’s what he told you?”
“That Justin was trying to finish Kilroy’s dream. Not in so many words. But yeah. Kind of.”
Autumn considered this. “Was he cooperative?”
Winter snorted out a laugh. “I’ll tell you in the car.”
“Good.” Autumn glanced up at the leaden sky, the wind tugging at her hair and blowing strands into her eyes. She pushed them away with a gloved hand. “It’s cold out here.”
Winter followed Autumn to the car, letting her choose the pace. She tried to talk, but the air was too cold, so she hunkered down in her jacket and tried to cover her ears with the upturned collar. Getting into the car was a welcome respite from the blowing ice winds that had sprung up since she’d been inside with Cameron.
She shivered a bit as Autumn started the car and they both sat and waited for the car to warm up a little. “Yeah,” Winter said as if they hadn’t been interrupted, “he was cooperative. He had some insight, but not a lot. He thought that Justin might be hiding out in someplace ‘significant.’”
“Significant?” Autumn barked a laugh. “Well, that narrows it down. Wish I’d thought of that.”
“You know…” Winter said slowly, her thoughts falling into place. “Not that we haven’t already considered that, but the way he said it kind of triggered something. It just might narrow things down if we can get a good idea what we’re looking for. I think maybe there’s someone else we should be talking to.”
Autumn tapped her hands on the wheel as she thought. The engine was warm enough now for the heat to be useful, and she turned it on full before turning back to look at her. “Given I have no idea where I’m driving right now, it would be helpful if you would share what you’re thinking. Just who are you thinking of?”
“Arthur Williams. You said he was still alive.”
“No.” Autumn turned back to look out of the windshield. It didn’t escape Winter’s notice that she was suddenly avoiding her, refusing to make eye contact. Hiding her reaction. “I said I didn’t see a record of his death, and I assumed he was still alive. But he’d be in his nineties by now.”
“Eighty-seven,” Winter corrected. “I got his age from the marriage certificate you uncovered. Eighty-seven isn’t all that old these days when people are routinely getting past a hundred.”
“Where do you expect to find him?”
“That clipping you found of Lynn Williams was from McCook. We start there.”
Autumn nodded but made no move to put the car into reverse.
“What?” Winter asked. “You know you can talk to me about anything. You’re obviously upset about something. Did I say something that up—?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s�
�well, it’s Cameron.” Autumn whispered the name, as though even voicing it was difficult. “I felt him when he was captured. His emotions, his…madness. I can’t shake that, it’s like something rancid and sticky. Just the thought of him makes my teeth on edge.”
“I’m sorry I dragged you down here.” She should have thought. Winter felt horrible about putting her friend into such an uncomfortable position. It really hadn’t occurred to her what it would mean to bring her back into close proximity with the murderer. “Take me back. I’ll go and find this Arthur Williams. This is—”
“No.”
“Yes.” Winter spoke louder over her friend’s objections. “This is my problem. Justin is my brother.”
“No!” Autumn said again, shouting this time. “This place…he wouldn’t bother me so much if I wasn’t good at reading other people’s emotions. You need me. Who else can be your private lie detector?”
“You really don’t need to do this,” Winter said softly. It wasn’t that she would mind the company, but Autumn’s reaction to just being in the same building as Cameron surprised her. From the look of things, it had surprised Autumn too, or so it seemed. “I’m just heading to talk to an old man, I think I can manage that safely.”’
“Eighty-seven isn’t all that old, remember?” Autumn shot back and turned her head to meet Winter eye to eye. “Besides, old man or not, pulling a trigger doesn’t take a lot of youth. You need backup.”
Winter opened her mouth to protest and closed it again. “Maybe I do. Just…if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” Autumn said, looking more confident this time. “It was just bringing up the memories of Cameron, it was…I was back there again, and it’ll take a while for that to go away.” Autumn slipped the gearshift into reverse and backed out of the slot. “So, where to?”
“Let’s get something to eat.” Winter pulled out her phone. “You found a record of some property that was sold. There has to be documents, escrow or something involved. A paper trail. Let’s see if we can get someone who knows where Arthur is. I’ll start making calls while you find us a place to eat.” She looked back at the prison, watching it recede in the mirror as the road ran straight from it. It felt like they were making a break from the penitentiary.
Winter busied herself with the phone as Autumn drove. Someplace significant. She’d put that off as being obvious, but something about the phrase stayed in her head, something that she wasn’t seeing. She was missing something important, something that should make sense and wasn’t.
“Someplace I could feel closer to a dad who loved me enough to take me away like that.”
That chilled her. More than the phrase “Baby Preacher.” More than anything else he’d said. As if kidnapping and murder were expressions of love. The bastard murdered her parents, murdered Justin’s parents, and that idiot called it “love?”
Yes, Cameron had his own issues with his father. It was a strange and unwholesome relationship to say the least. But to think for a moment that Kilroy loved Justin? That was enough to make Winter want to throw up.
A cooler, more professional part of her mind took over. What Winter thought of that idea really wasn’t the issue here. It wasn’t her they wanted to find. It was Justin. What if Cameron’s point of view—no matter how strange, no matter how twisted—was the same point of view Justin had? What if that was what he believed? After all these years…he had been so young when it all happened. Could he have forgotten? Could he truly believe that psychopath worked from a sense of love?
She reminded herself that Justin called him “Grandpa.” That was telling enough alone.
My god. What if it’s true? What if Justin does love his so-called grandpa? And if so, what is he trying to prove to him?
She looked up from her phone to watch as the scenery flew by the window. It looked cold and empty out there, every field barren and brown. The chill of winter had its cold hands on the landscape, but there wasn’t any snow, not yet. There was no cover to protect the ground from the artic winds that scoured the earth and withered the plants. Dry leaves rattling in the wind.
She was already looking forward to winter’s end.
Shivering, Winter dove back into her phone. She needed to find Arthur Williams. She only hoped he was still lucid enough to remember when she did.
22
Winter stared at her phone in consternation, then looked through the windshield again at the house. The address on the phone matched most of what was on the farmhouse just over the front door, but one of the black plastic numbers had fallen off. Were it not for the figure eight shown in paint that was slightly less faded than the rest of the house, she would have thought she was in the wrong place.
As a home, it needed a great deal of work. As a relic, it was loaded with what could charitably be called personality.
“I guess this is the place.” Winter sighed and shook her head.
Autumn seemed fixated on the house. She’d been a little jumpy since Winter had found an address for Arthur…no, since they’d left the prison. She still hadn’t shaken off Cameron’s influence. Winter inhaled deeply, trying to push down her worries and concerns and let her breath out slowly.
She’d been taught various ways to calm herself over the years, although none of them seemed effective lately. It was getting harder and harder to pull herself together, and right now, she had a role to play.
Autumn and whatever angst she was nursing would have to wait until after they were done.
It was getting late in the afternoon, and Winter wondered how he would react to having a couple unannounced visitors drop in. She considered coming back tomorrow when it wasn’t so close to dinner, and would have, had time not been running out. She needed to find Justin and quickly.
“Maybe I should do the talking,” Autumn said, catching Winter off guard. Winter’s face must have shown her surprise because Autumn hurried to explain. “I can get a read on him. Think about it. If I can touch him, I might be able to pull more information than you can. And you are a little close to the case.”
A little close to the case? How could she be anything but close?
Winter bit back an angry response, struggling to appear reasonable. “No, I think it’s better that I do this. I’m Bill’s daughter. Even if it’s not biologically, I’m still family of sorts.”
“I get that.” Autumn nodded in agreement, a little forcefully maybe. “I just think you’re…too close.”
Winter debated asking her friend what the problem really was, why Autumn was acting so unnerved. Frankly, it was something that needed to have been talked about earlier, why Autumn was willing to go through with this when she was already on edge. “Reading” someone like she did would only make it worse. She opened her mouth to say something when she saw the flicker of a curtain at the window. They had been spotted.
Well, that decided it then, didn’t it? They were out of time.
Winter opened the door and got out with Autumn close behind. All the way across the yard, Winter was wary. Between the disrepair of the home and the unkempt aspect of the yard, the entire place put her back up. Several overgrown evergreens crowded the house from the left, long sweeping branches reaching out to embrace the structure as if holding it up. For a moment, she found herself thinking how anything could be hiding back in those trees and longed to pull her weapon.
Look at me. I’m actually jittery.
Winter forced herself to breathe, to let go of the anxiety and get the job done. She and Autumn stepped onto the wooden porch at the same instant. Perhaps it wasn’t the best approach, given the way she felt one of the boards give way under their feet with an ominous sound. She pointed the cracking wood out to Autumn, who stepped around it daintily to take the lead.
That should be me…
Holding back never felt so hard.
Winter kept her distance as Autumn knocked on the door, which creaked open almost at her touch. A thin, elderly man blinked at them through the doorway as though he hadn’t se
en daylight in some time.
She knew him. Just as her mind had taken her into the vision, her mind now knew this was the terrible man in that dream.
In front of her, Autumn took a breath, but the jolt of recognition Winter experienced from her vision was too much for her. There was no way she could stay silent. Winter plowed ahead before Autumn could so much as get a word out.
“Hello.” Winter smiled as brightly as she could. The years had not been kind to Arthur, but she could still see the younger man of her vision in his eyes. These were suspicious eyes, unfriendly and cold. They seemed to bore a hole through her.
“My name is Winter Black,” she said through the open door. “I’m Bill…William Black’s daughter. My parents were killed when I was still young, and I don’t really know any of my relatives, so I’m now trying to make connections to their extended family, and I wondered if I could talk to you?”
She ignored Autumn, who was shooting silent daggers into the side of her head. Not only was this completely contrary to the plan, but it was an entirely different approach. To be fair, the family thing had only just occurred to her as the door began to open. She would apologize to Autumn later.
The old man glared at each in turn, giving one assessing gaze at a time. It was as though he was looking at a couple of horses for sale and found them wanting. It was a wonder he didn’t ask to check their teeth.
His upper lip curled, and Winter was convinced that he was going to slam the door in her face. She was reaching for the badge in her back pocket when the old man backed out of the doorway, disappearing into the depths of the house. He left the door open behind him.
Winter and Autumn exchanged glances. Arthur didn’t seem like a cooperative witness, but the silent welcome was probably as good as they were going to get.
They stepped into a front parlor that had seen better days. Old tattered furniture and stacks of random auto parts and old pizza boxes lined narrow walkways. Arthur swept his hand over the couch and sent bolts, screws, pens, paperclips, stale-looking M&Ms, and other small bits of garbage to skittering under an old chest of drawers that had more than one drawer missing, giving it a toothless grin.
