by Jonas Saul
“Hiding?” He slowed the car and pulled to the side, then stopped. “From what?”
“I’m being followed. Someone, I think it’s a woman, has been following me for an hour and I think I lost her, but I can’t tell if—” Her voice cut off sharply.
“Beverly?” He waited a moment. Then louder, “Beverly!”
“Fuck,” she mouthed into the phone. “She’s here—”
The line died.
Chapter 19
Sarah brought her knees up, scooted her butt down slightly, then rested her legs against the dash of DeOcampo’s car. She grabbed her coffee and held it with both hands, staring at the Doyle residence. They were on a side street in a nice area of Mississauga. Both Brent Doyle and his wife, Lillian Doyle, were school teachers who met when substituting years ago before they got contracted to the school they were in now, according to what DeOcampo found out.
She had done a quick check on the name when they arrived, thanks to her contacts at the police department. Both Doyles were at home this evening and they were the only two inside, as far as they could tell. The Doyles did not have children.
Her eyes on the front window of the house where the light of a TV flickered against the curtains in a strobe-like effect, Sarah said, “Now that we have some time alone, tell me what you found on the name Jamie Morgan.”
DeOcampo sipped from her large coffee, and after placing it in the cup holder, she turned in her seat to face Sarah, resting her back against the door.
“Jamie Morgan is dead. That’s about all I found out.”
Sarah was about to drink from her cup when she paused, the coffee inches from her mouth. After a moment, she drank anyway, then set her cup beside DeOcampo’s.
“So she’s not part of the suspect list anymore?” She met DeOcampo’s gaze. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“No, she could still be a suspect.”
“I think I’ll need more information, because the dead may talk to us, but they don’t reanimate and become murdering coat-hanger rapists.”
“She was declared dead in August, 1999, two months after the barn incident.”
“You have a date on the barn incident?” Surprise tinged each word.
DeOcampo opened a notebook and flipped through several pages. Using the light from her cell phone, she scanned down a page with her finger.
“I’m guessing it was mid June, 1999. Hunter said about twenty years ago.”
“Guessing?”
DeOcampo nodded, then switched off her cell phone light. “Police were called to a loud party in the area once in mid June that year. It took some digging in the system, but not many calls were for that area back then.”
“A party?”
“Loud noises. Like people screaming. A single unit responded. No party was ever found. The problem was, the barn had been abandoned for so long, they didn’t drive down that half a kilometer lane to an old, rundown barn.”
Sarah grabbed her coffee and eyed the Doyle’s front window. “How did Morgan die?”
“She went missing on Lake Ontario near the Scarborough Bluffs.”
“What’s the Scarborough Bluffs again?”
“I thought you’d ask, so I looked it up. It’s an escarpment with nine parks overlooking Lake Ontario. Bluffers Park is the only one with a beach.”
“Hmmm,” Sarah mumbled to herself a moment, then drank more coffee. “Wouldn’t that be wild if Jamie Morgan faked her death at Bluffers Park?”
“Ha, it certainly would be. No body was found, but she went there with friends, fell into the water, and was never seen again. One witness on the police report said Jamie Morgan was despondent after her parents’ deaths and had fallen into a depressed state. She kept blaming herself.”
“How did her parents die?”
“Car jacking went wrong, the police report said. Both were stabbed outside the car, but then put back in the vehicle and it was pushed off a small cliff in south Oshawa, somewhere near the base of Park Road. When they got to the bodies, it had been three days. Investigations in 1999 weren’t as advanced as today. They never found the perps. It’s a closed cold case.”
Sarah set her coffee down and pushed herself up in her seat. “So, you’re saying Hunter admitted to four teenage boys beating a girl and using a coat hanger on her about twenty years ago, and that loud party call in the area of the barn took place in June, 1999, the same month Jamie Morgan’s parents were killed?”
DeOcampo nodded.
“Then she disappears, assumed drowned, two months later?”
“It would appear that way.”
“And no one looked deeper all this time?”
“Deeper at what? It was Hunter’s admission to us and us alone in that conference room, which wasn’t recorded by the way, giving him deniability, that he was involved in something violent twenty years ago. He offers us a name. When we see that person is dead and can’t testify, which is something he would probably already know, he feels safe. He even said it was Alden’s idea to use the coat hanger on Jamie, another person we can’t talk to now. Then Jamie’s parents were attacked and killed and that’s the end of it.”
“But examining it from another angle, and—”
“—and it’s a bigger deal than a bunch of boys beating a girlfriend and she passes away by misadventure.”
“Holy fuck.” Sarah stared at DeOcampo. “What if Hunter is taking them all out one by one after all these years?”
“Where’s the payoff? Why take all that risk now?”
She shrugged. “What if one of them is bribing him? His career could be at stake, his life. I have no idea. As I already mentioned, Vivian won’t talk to me about the killer or their motives.”
They sat in silence for a full minute.
“It sure looks bad, if you ask me,” Sarah added. “I don’t trust Hunter. I mean, what if they didn’t stop at just beating Jamie? What if they gang raped her or something?”
DeOcampo shook her head. “I don’t trust him either, but gang rape? And that Crawford is another story.”
“Yeah, he’s fucked. Never need to see him again.”
“I wonder what happened to Hunter’s personal relationship.” DeOcampo spoke so low, Sarah had to strain to hear her.
“What about it?”
“On the day the first bodies were discovered, his girlfriend bails. This killer is taking out spouses. Find that interesting?”
“Like what, his girlfriend is killing everyone?”
“No, more like Hunter’s behind it somehow, using an accomplice so his alibi checks out. He fights with his girlfriend to make sure she’s out of the picture for the week or two until all these murders are completed. Then it’s over and Hunter resumes his old life. Girlfriend moves back in, and no one’s the wiser.”
“Could be, could be.” Sarah exchanged a glance with DeOcampo. “That would mean the Doyles are next in every scenario we propose.”
“And if it’s not Hunter?” DeOcampo asked.
“Then he may be next.”
“And what if Morgan did fake her death twenty years ago? Where is she now and why wait twenty years to start killing them for what they did to her?”
Sarah lifted her shoulders. “I have no idea. This is a mystery that I wish my sister would just explain so we could all just go home and sleep.”
DeOcampo scanned out the windshield, then checked her mirrors.
“Where’s Alex?”
“No idea, but he’s out there.”
“Doing what?”
“Reconnoitering.”
DeOcampo frowned. “I know he has skills, but isn’t reconnoitering more of a military task?”
“It’s an easy way to say that Alex is out there watching the Doyle house, front and back, and watching us at the same time. Anyone walking or driving—really movement of any kind—will be monitored. To Alex, movement has a purpose. They must be walking a dog, jogging, or moving toward a car, or a particular house. Someone moving without purpose for any amo
unt of time raises suspicion. He often climbs a tree, or finds a roof he can perch on to watch without being seen.” She faced the FBI agent. “If someone knocked on our car window, you can bet Alex would be several feet behind him and the guy wouldn’t even know it. Alex would’ve seen him up the block, he would’ve noticed his wayward glances at our car, his gait, his shoulders—everything is studied and computed.”
“Holy shit.” DeOcampo glanced outside again, staring at the roofs of the houses. “I can’t see anything on any roof.”
“And you won’t. He’ll blend in, move with shadows, use a tree, whatever he thinks will keep him hidden well. He’s human and makes mistakes, but because he’s so calculated, his mistakes are rare.”
“Good to have on your team.”
“No one like him.” Sarah yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. “What now? I guess we just keep waiting?”
DeOcampo sat back in her seat. “What do you mean? We told Hunter we’d stay until two or three. It’s only midnight.”
“I mean knowing what we know now, do we leave the Doyles to Hunter’s protection after he arrives?” They exchanged a glance. “Like I said, I guess we’ll have to keep waiting. Just up the street somewhere without Hunter knowing.”
DeOcampo was silent for a moment. “Yeah, I don’t see another possibility. If we’re considering Detective Hunter as a possible suspect, then we can’t have the wolf protect the sheep. That wouldn’t work.”
“You want to bring the Doyles in on this? We could wait inside the house. That would be easier.”
DeOcampo shook her head. “No, I’d rather leave them out of this—”
Sarah’s phone vibrated. “One second.” She glanced at it. “Hunter’s calling.” She tapped a button on the front. “Yeah?” she said into the phone.
“I think Beverly is in trouble.”
“Beverly? Your girlfriend?” Sarah caught DeOcampo staring at her. “Sorry, your ex-girlfriend. What happened?”
“She called me in a panic.” There was a lot of noise in the background, like Hunter was driving with his window down.
“In a panic?”
“She said something about a woman had been following her for an hour and that she was in trouble and had been hiding from her. Then she whispered that the woman was there, she screamed once, and the line died. I can’t reach her now.” Hunter actually sounded frantic himself. Either this was a great acting job, or he was sincerely worried about his ex-girlfriend. “Every time I call it goes directly to voicemail. It doesn’t even ring, like her phone is broken or turned off.”
“Okay, calm down. Where are you going right now?”
“I called a fellow officer, a friend at the station, who called in a favor. They’re trying to ping her cell phone as we speak, but I was told it was last used near the Square One shopping mall several hours ago. He’ll update me the second he hears more.”
“At this hour, that mall would be closed.”
“If they can’t nail down an exact location, I’ll need help over here. I’m off duty and can’t call this in. I mean, what would I say? My ex-girlfriend who walked out on me is near a closed mall at midnight and might be in trouble? Especially me, when the sarge pulled me from the case.”
“How long before you get there?”
“I’m twenty minutes from the mall.”
“Okay, we’re ten minutes away. I’ll talk to DeOcampo and get back to you.”
The line died.
“What was that all about?” DeOcampo asked.
“We have a decision to make.”
“What’s that?”
“Is Hunter clean or not? Because if he is clean, Beverly, his ex-girlfriend called him. She’s in trouble somewhere near the Square One mall. Apparently, someone’s following her. If Hunter is dirty, then he’s luring us away from the Doyles’ house to take them out, or conversely to take us out, or all of the above.”
DeOcampo brought her thumb up to her mouth and nibbled on a nail, staring at the dash, her eyes focusing on nothing.
“Fuck, what now?” Sarah mumbled, staring at the agent.
“Can we leave Alex here to watch the Doyles?” DeOcampo said. “Then we’ll be back within the hour if this Hunter thing proves to be bullshit?”
“That’ll work.” Sarah jumped from the car and waved her hand in the air for several seconds. Alex would be watching and know to come to her.
She didn’t have to wait long. In under a minute, there was a soft thump on the grass to her right, and then Alex materialized from behind a tree.
She explained their plan. He didn’t like Sarah leaving his protection, but was willing to except a trained and armed FBI agent as an alternative for a short period of time.
Alex hugged her, then disappeared back into the shadows.
Sarah dropped back into the car. “Hit it.”
DeOcampo fired up the engine and hit the gas while Sarah typed out a message.
“Who are you texting now?”
“Parkman. I want him to know we’ll be at the Square One mall in ten minutes.”
A text popped up. “He’ll meet us there.”
“He’s in the area?” DeOcampo asked, sounding dumbfounded.
“Remember earlier, when I said Parkman had other things to do tonight?”
She nodded.
“He’s been tailing Hunter this whole time. You never can be too careful.”
DeOcampo snatched glances over at Sarah for half a minute, then said, “Who the hell are you people?”
Chapter 20
Sarah and DeOcampo angled into the vast parking lot of the Square One mall on the Walmart side. After jumping on Hurontario headed north, they made it in eight minutes.
Sarah texted Parkman to tell him they’d arrived.
“Keep your eyes peeled,” Sarah said. “He could be anywhere.”
“He? As in Hunter, or Parkman?”
“Both.”
DeOcampo drove slowly while Sarah watched the two-level parking area to their left.
They came around the south end, and worked toward the west side of the mall.
A small security SUV drove by going the other way.
Sarah shook her head. “It’s highly unlikely Hunter’s ex-girlfriend will still be here hours after her phone was pinged.”
“I agree.”
“I mean, this mall has security. If she was being followed, she could reach out to them. Besides, where would she hide all this time? Inside the closed mall?”
DeOcampo slowed the car and they both looked at each other. “Hunter pulled us away from the stakeout on purpose, didn’t he?”
Lights flashed to Sarah’s right. She turned quickly to see Parkman’s car headed toward them.
“Parkman’s here.”
“Good, maybe he knows something.”
They waited as Parkman eased up alongside them, driver’s window to driver’s window.
“Ladies,” he said. “We may have a problem.”
“What sort of problem?” Sarah’s stomach dropped. All she could think of was Alex. Was Hunter at the Doyles’ stakeout, watching them when she spoke with Alex, exposing Alex’s position? She immediately dashed the thought from her head. Alex was too good and would’ve seen Hunter watching him. Wouldn’t he?
“Hunter’s gone off the rails.” Parkman wiped his face as if something bad happened and he was stressed about it.
Sarah’s innards took on his stress. “What happened?” she asked, afraid of the answer.
“Not sure how it’s related, but he drove to someone’s house, parked down the street, forced his way in the front door and fought with the occupants.” He looked from Sarah to DeOcampo. “I was able to park closer than Hunter. I ran up to the front window of the house to watch as he drew his weapon, threatened them about some information they had, then he head butted the woman, talked some shit, and flipped their coffee table upside down. Broke their glasses and made a mess. Couldn’t hear much of what was said from outside the window—their wor
ds were mumbled—but he definitely hurt that woman. Stole her cell phone, too. He’s gone crazy.”
“What the fuck?” Sarah mumbled.
“I know. After he bolted for his car, he drove aimlessly, like he knew he was being followed. Minutes after that, he pulled to the side of the road, like he was on the phone. I had to drive by him to make it look like I wasn’t following him. Anyway, he squealed away from that area and drove here. He’s parked on the other side of the mall and running from door to door trying to gain access. I came over here to meet you two.”
“What the hell is he up to?” Sarah asked on one in particular. “I mean, if he wanted us away from the Doyles’ house, why’s he trying to get inside the mall?” She sat back in her seat and stared out the windshield. “None of this makes any sense.”
“I say we go confront him, ask him what the hell he did back at that house.” DeOcampo sounded mad. “Parkman, you said he head butted a woman?”
“Wrestled with her, too. Held her and the woman’s man down on their couch. Looked a little pervy at one point.”
Sarah spun her head toward him. “Pervy? What do you mean?”
“Hard to tell, but it looked like he was enjoying holding her down.”
“How so?”
“The look on his face, and the slight gyrating of his hips before getting up off her.”
Sarah and DeOcampo exchanged a glance.
“He’s involved somehow,” DeOcampo said. “Has to be. I mean, he admitted that shit he did from twenty years ago. What else has he done?”
“It goes much deeper than that, Agent. Too many dead already. This started with Hunter from the beginning and ends with him. He’s the key, no doubt. And what Parkman saw was probably only a snippet of his character.”
“We need to confront him,” DeOcampo said.
“Agreed.” Parkman spoke that one word, then drove away.
“Better follow him,” Sarah said. “He’s not one for wasting time.”
DeOcampo hit the gas, performed a wide U-turn, and gunned it after Parkman.
“This ends tonight or tomorrow. I’m sure of it. And Hunter is the key. He knows more than he’s letting on—much more.” Sarah grabbed the door handle as DeOcampo raced around a corner, the tires protesting slightly. They were several car lengths behind Parkman and catching up. “What I don’t get is, if he’s actually involved in these murders, why send the letter to himself, or orchestrate it that way? All that does is put an even bigger spotlight on him. And to mention my name? Aaron’s name?” Sarah shook her head. “Doesn’t add up. I mean, he’s involved in some way, but something stops me from thinking he’s part of the killings themselves.”
