Widow Town (10 page)

“The door was
definitely locked?” Gray said.

“Definitely, I remember trying it.”

“And what did you see when you went inside?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. There were no windows broken and nothing spilled on the floor. Most of her clothes were gone along with her jewelry and a suitcase. Some of the kitchen stuff was taken too like the
toaster and microwave.”

Gray nodded. “But you called in a
missing-person report anyway.”

“Of course. Sheriff, Joslyn was almost ready to give birth. You don’t run off in the middle of the
night when you’re that close.”

“You don’t think that’s why she left? To go to a different town to
give birth, start a new life?”

Rachel leveled her eyes on his and shook her head. “She would’ve told me, I was her best friend and she was mine. We talked about everything. If she was going to leave, she would’ve wanted me to come with. Besides, she had nowhere to go. She was an orphan and Tony’s parents wanted nothing to do with her after he died, kind of broke her heart.” Rachel glanced
away from him to the window. “That little oak that’s dead or dying in the backyard? Tony planted that for his son before the cave-in. Said he would be able to hang a swing from it when he was old enough. Joslyn went out and watered that tree every day after he died, she was determined to keep it alive for her child. She wouldn’t have left that tree behind.” Rachel sniffed once and shook her head. “I told all this to that other sheriff and he assured me he’d look into it.”

“Do you feel that he did?”

“Hell no. He walked around her house for a while, had a guy come scan for prints but I heard them talking through an open window. They thought she split town, finally had enough of the pity in the community and went somewhere new.”

Gray finished his coffee and swirled the dregs around in the bottom. “Is there a
nything else you can remember?”

Rachel reached over to a nearly empty cigarette pack and p
ulled one of its long contents out, rolled it between her fingers. “Yeah, but I told the last sheriff and he almost laughed at me.”

Gray leaned forward and touched the young woman’s hand with the tips of his fingers. “Rachel, he and I are two very diff
erent people. You can tell me.”

He thought she might cry again
, but instead she clenched the cigarette in one fist, crushing it in her grip. “There was a smell in the house when I went in there that day. At first it didn’t register fully, but after I came outside and went back in to make sure, I knew.”

“Knew what?”

Rachel released the broken cigarette and let it fall to the table in pieces of paper and tobacco. “That there had been someone else in the house with Joslyn the night before, and the only way I know that is they had on the same cologne Ken used to wear.”

“Do you think she was telling the truth?” Ruthers said.

The deputy sat in the chair Mark Sheldon occupied that morning, his face creased with thought, one leg crossed over the other.

“I do,” Gray said, tapping the digital keyboard to bring his computer screen to life. His shirt was a wet skin over his own, the heat in the office almost unbearable. He glanced at the immovable pane of glass in the wall and wished once again he could open it, at least to gain some moving air through the office.

“So someone came and took Joslyn from her home in the middle of the night and carri
ed out all her belongings too?”

“That
’s what it appears like, Joseph, and the one thing that makes me think that’s the way it happened is because Mitchel was headed in the opposite direction. The difference between wise men and fools is that fools learn from their own mistakes and wise men learn from other people’s.”

“Do you want to take a scanner out there and comb the whole place again, s
ee if we can pick anything up?”

Gray shook his head. “No. If they were careful enough to make the whole thing look like she left under her own accord, they wouldn’t leave anything behind. Technology is wonderful, Joseph, but it’ll never rival an inquisitive mind.” Gray tapped his temple once. “
So now that we’ve established an idea of how, we ask why.”

Ruthers frowned and rubbed a scuff on the toe of his boot. “There’d be no one to ransom but maybe she had a bunch of money stored away from the settlement or li
fe insurance from her husband?”

“Possible,” Gray said, bringing up his email. “
But I saw in the report that her beneficiaries were her in-laws. Just two months ago they had her declared legally dead. Why don’t you give them a call and see if her accounts were transferred to them also.”

“Okay. Did the coro
ner’s report come through yet?”

“It did an
d I’m looking at it right now.”

“Anything?”

“All three victims died of lacerations to various parts of their bodies but we already knew that. No fingerprints, no traces of saliva or sweat other than the victim’s.” Gray reread the last part of the paragraph, his brow drawing down. “Bite marks appear to be nonorganic.”

Ruthers s
at forward. “What?”

“Bite marks found on two out of three victims were not concurrent with
any known organic bite pattern, nor was there any animal saliva found within the wounds. Digital rendering of the wounds show nearly perfect symmetrical configuration of teeth marks.”

“Sir, what the hell does that mean?”

Gray read the passage again. “It means an animal probably didn’t do it. It was something manmade.” He glanced across the desk at Ruthers and watched disgust darken his features.

“Like a machine to
take bites out of someone?”

“Something like that.”

Ruthers sat back in his chair. “My God, what the hell are we dealing with here, sir?”

“I’m not sure yet, but we need to bring this to light somehow. If Joslyn’s disappearance is connected to these murders, we have something
big on our hands here that stretches back years.” Gray drummed his fingers on the desk and then looked at Ruthers. “Are you sure you’re with me on this, Joseph?”

Ruthers
had a shell-shocked quality to his features, but his eyes cleared after a moment. “With you?”

“Yes, this theory could lose me my job and you yours if we pursue it.
We’ll be ostracized and possibly face charges of some sort if it doesn’t pan out. If you have any second thoughts, let me know and I won’t involve you from this point forward, you can go on patrol and pretend we never talked last night or today.”

Barely a second passed before Ruthers answered. “Our jo
b is to find the truth, right?”

Gray smiled. “Yes it is.”

“Then I’m with you.”

“Good. Make those calls and I’ll see if I can get someone else on our team here,” Gray said picking up the phone.

~

Gray sipped his
bourbon and watched the sun begin to slide behind the tree line to the west. The restaurant’s deck was mostly empty considering the dying day’s heat. Bits of music and conversation filtered to him as a door opened and closed nearby, the clink of glasses and silverware against fine plates. Gray’s fresh dress shirt was beginning to dampen at his chest and stomach and he pulled the light fabric away not wanting to look completely soiled. The cool shower he’d taken a fading memory.

The afternoon had slid away in a wash of paperwork and regular calls coming in. Several were from concerned citizens who’d finally caught wind of the murders. Mary Jo fielded most of them, assuring the callers that all measures were being
taken to ensure the safety of the town.

Gray finished his drink and pressed the sensor on the table that signaled a waiter inside the restaurant. When he heard the door open and close, he didn’t look up.

“I’ll take another.”

“Rough day I
’m guessing.”

Gray looked up a
nd saw Tilly standing beside the table. She looked prettier than he’d ever saw her before, her white and green scrubs traded for a black blouse and a short skirt. She wore viciously pointed high heels on her feet.

“Sorry, I thought you were the waiter,” Gray said,
standing to pull out her chair.

“I waited tables when I wa
s a teenager, it didn’t stick.”

“You look very nice.”

“Thanks, so do you.”

Gray sat again on his side of the table and smiled at her. “Thanks for coming.”

Tilly nodded once, her eyelashes long in the failing light. “To be honest your call caught me off guard.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be, I haven’t been someplace this nice in years.”

“That’s a shame.”

Tilly gave him a smile and a little light glinted in her eyes. “Yes it is.”

Their waiter hurried out of the door of the restaurant and took their drink orders in a rush before returning to the a
ir conditioning at a half run.

“No one likes the heat,” Tilly said, fanning h
erself with a menu.

“
I can’t say I’m partial to it.”

“I don’t mind it, it’s better than the cold
that’s coming in a few months.”

“See, we’r
e opposites. I like the fall best of all the seasons. The cool air helps keep the peace. Heat enrages people.”

“Excites others,” Tilly said, crossing her legs. She adjusted her skirt and Gray managed to keep his eyes above the table as their waiter came back with their drinks, leaving as soon he’d placed them on the table. Gray sipped from his glass and looked off toward the setting sun, an open furnace behind the trees.

“It was never this hot when my father was a kid,” he said after a time.

“No, my mother still complains about the heat and mentions the cool
er summers when she was young.”

“Too many things have changed, the ear
th’s heating up because of it.”

“The last study said they had
global warming under control.”

“I’m not talking about global warming, I’m talking about the rage and the angst mixed in with the technology that won’t stop coming. We think we’re controlling everything, but we’re not.” Gray shook his head. “We’re burning up.”

“You think that’s what caused the Jacobses’ murders?” Tilly asked.

“I don’t think the he
at had anything to do with it.”

“I hope I wasn’t reading you right the other day in the m
orgue.”

“What did you read?”

Tilly lowered her voice even though there was no one in earshot of their table. “It sounded to me like you were insinuating that the Olsons’ and the Jacobses’ murders were connected in a way other than coincidence.”

Gray smiled into his g
lass. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“No, it
wouldn’t be smart if you did.”

“Because that would raise qu
estions about my own position.”

“Yes, it would.”

Gray finished his drink in a long swallow. “What do you think?”

“About the murders or you
r questions?”

“The murders.”

Tilly sighed. “I think there’s a possibility that they were done by the same people, but,” she said, raising one finger off the table toward him. “If they were, we’re dealing with very desperate individuals that are in a great need of money.”

“There was cash left at the
Jacobses’ home.”

“They panicked seeing what they’d done and left in a hurry.”

“But took enough time to use a machine to take bites out of them?”

Tilly’s eyes shifted around Gray to the other people on the deck. “Thi
s really isn’t the place, Mac.”

“I know it’s not, but I need you to tell me in your professional opinion if
the Line could ever fail.”

Tilly sat back as if slapped. “What do you mean,
the Line fail?”

Gray pressed o
n, tumbling down a slope. “Could it ever work in the opposite way or, change someone somehow?”

“Mac, FV5 shuts the
murder gene off, end of story. There is no changing someone into a psychopath once it’s done. It would be like trying to fire a gun without cartridges.”

“Yes, but what if there was a r
eaction that we’re not aware of?” he plunged on, unable to slow now. “What if there was a way that science hadn’t predicted?”

Tilly stared at him, her expression hardening, becoming poisonous in the deepening evening. “You sonofabitch. That’s why you asked me here, to try
and get me to back up your little theory.”

“You saw the bodies yourself, Tilly, my God, you saw what was done
to those people.”

Tilly shook her head, her body no longer relaxed in the chair.
She finished her drink and stood, her purse gripped in one white-knuckled hand. “I should’ve known better, but I thought—” She shook her head. “Goodbye Gray, have a lovely dinner.”

He
opened his mouth to say something else, to apologize, to stop her from leaving. Instead he looked away and listened for the sound of the door as he sipped at the stinging ice melt in his glass.