CHAPTER NINETEEN
‡
“The burnt body Moss left behind at the cabin was his twin brother.”
Half the team was gathered around the table, though Keane and Royce had joined them via phone. The grey receiver sat in the middle of a small conference table in the back of Brody’s domain, but the silence from everyone listening to such a bombshell came through loud and clear.
“The small percentile difference in their DNA accounted for a recessive pigmentation gene. He was an albino with what was suspected to be another common defect associated with that condition—he was most likely blind. The burns made it impossible to visually identify Moss’ body at the scene. It only became obvious after an expert reviewed the DNA evidence and issued his findings. A subsequent review of the autopsy findings confirmed the eyes were burned beyond recognition, but upon a secondary examination…the ocular nerves had been damaged when he was younger. It’s not believed that his blindness was due to his albino condition. Apparently, the damage was caused by a traumatic physical incident, possibly from an altercation.”
Townes had spent a good two hours in front of the white board he’d constructed in his office. It had taken him a rather long time to put together a timeline. Each member on this team had contributed with each piece of information they’d uncovered over the last four to five months.
Every moment in Moss’ life, as well as anyone who he’d had contact with, had been outlined. It was a tree of secrets, of sorts. One person stood out above the rest—his mother.
The frayed end of the string that contained her history had almost been nonexistent. Nonetheless, it had been there. All it had needed was a little tug.
Beatrice Moss had hidden Shepherd Moss’ brother from the world.
“Where the hell did you come up with this scenario?” Brody was currently sitting on his preferred stool that allowed him to wheel back and forth between the papers laid out in front of everyone to his handcrafted desk where there were various feeds from the wooded area Moss last occupied. “Moss didn’t have a brother last week.”
“He didn’t have any siblings we were aware of,” Sawyer corrected, lowering his mug before he managed to take a sip of coffee. He tapped on one of the files in front of him to stress his point. “According to the townsfolk, Moss was the only child to a single mother who struggled to make ends meet. They lived pretty far out in the country. It’s sounding to me that this brother was an embarrassment to the family name.”
“You’re right.” Townes didn’t dispute the facts that had been laid out to them, but he led his team directly to the oversight they’d all missed during the subsequent trial to put Moss behind bars. Looking back, there hadn’t been a reason to delve into the man’s childhood. Townes had personally ensured that a guilty verdict came through without doubt. The prosecutor had been given a slam dunk case and extensive research wasn’t really needed. “Beatrice Moss was a single mother who had gone without a formal education. She struggled to make ends meet her whole life. No one noticed the absent birth certificate. The twins were a home birth, using an old-fashioned midwife. There was never any record of a twin brother. The family hid the poor child on the family’s tenement farm that Moss must have bought for his mother and brother to live out their days on after he’d gotten work in the city.”
No one was to blame for overlooking a poor woman’s life that amounted to nothing, who in theory had not been in the picture for a number of years. She’d passed away of heart failure during Moss’ stint in federal prison. There wasn’t even a record of where she was buried. The team had tried to search for family connections to the body presumed to be Moss at the cabin, but they had been searching in the wrong direction. It was no one’s fault.
“Beatrice Moss never attended school as a child, which was quite common in that area during those years. Her family was poor and subsisted off the farmland.” Townes shot a glance at Coen, who had been the one to piece together a timeline of Moss’ history due to past interviews Moss had granted during his incarceration. “For a young girl with such low expectations, ending up as a waitress for the local diner barely making ends meet didn’t seem so unusual. She taught herself to read and write. She lived her entire life in the backwoods, only coming into town to work her shift and disappearing back into the woods afterward.”
“That’s not unusual in a lot of small towns all over this country.” Keane had responded with what everyone was thinking. “Money was scarce. Her parents were older and needed help around the house. Some guy made nice during one of her shifts and didn’t stick around longer than it took to get into her panties.”
“All true, which is why Beatrice didn’t tell her parents that she was pregnant till it was too late. That’s why she ended up with just a midwife.” Townes broke down the timeline, grateful that Shailyn had stayed up at the main house. He needed to pay a visit with her parents sometime today. He needed to explain the delicacy of this part of the investigation. Their cooperation was needed to ensure their daughter’s life wasn’t needlessly endangered. “I made a couple of phone calls first thing this morning to some relatives I believe had the ability to help Beatrice after her parents passed. It turns out a long distant cousin who was in her mid-thirties had seen both children on the farm during the time when she had visited—one of them being fair complexioned.”
“What a lovely family,” Brody said wryly, shaking his head at this breakthrough. He rolled over to one of the monitors not in use, moving the mouse to activate the screen. “I’ll see if I can obtain a name. I’ll track down whatever dental records there might have been and send them over to the lab to make a confirmation, if I can.”
“I want this leaked to the press immediately.”
Townes had spent a lot of time trying to figure out a way to flush Moss out of hiding. The man was too intelligent to make rash decisions, but a few pushes would lead the man in the right direction. A collision with reality was a foregone conclusion.
“Royce, I’m going to have Caitlyn pull a few strings to get this story front and center this evening. I want him to feel the pressure and know that we’re one step closer.” Townes went down the list on what he wanted each team member to do today while he visited Carter and Pam Doyle. That was one meeting he would have to handle personally. “Any questions?”
“What’s the end game?” Coen leaned back in his chair and surveyed Townes with curiosity. “How are we going to draw Moss out of hiding without using Shailyn?”
“I’ve learned something over the course of this investigation that wasn’t relevant at the time of Moss’ trial.” Townes gestured toward the numerous files on the table. “He liked to physically watch the aftermath of his crimes. From the few conversations I’ve had with him on the phone, he’s had information acquired by the news. He also stayed up in that hidden treehouse while every law enforcement agency combed through the wreckage he’d left behind. He enjoyed watching the show below as if he were a puppet master and we were nothing more than his puppets on a string for him to make dance.”
This was the reason it was so vital he speak with Carter and Pam Doyle.
“We’re going to use Shailyn’s funeral service as a web, similar to what we had planned before. We’ll draw him in closer using the media, but there isn’t a chance in hell he’s going to miss an opportunity to see if her body is the one laying inside that coffin. He won’t pass this one off to some follower.”
“It was never announced to the media where her body was being held,” Brody said over his shoulder. “We can have Caitlyn call up Maura Jane, who’s been the lead anchor covering the story, and drop a hint as to which funeral home the Doyle’s have chosen and when the Marshals Service is releasing the body to them for burial. A staged funeral might not need to be necessary if Moss has a more private venue to confirm Shailyn’s death.”
“I thought of that, but he’s far too careful. He’ll believe it’s a setup if we make it too obvious. He’ll hire someone to go to the funeral and acquire pictures of the open casket, all the while keeping his distance because of the close quarters.” Townes hated that the need for a theatrical performance was required, but he could see no other way to draw Moss out from hiding. “A cemetery can offer Moss anonymity while providing him freedom to move about. He’ll use that to his advantage. He’ll want to be there in person. The churchyard the Doyle’s use for their family plots has mature trees, as well as numerous large tombs and above ground crypts. He’ll use those elements for concealment, allowing him to personally say goodbye to his greatest unfinished masterpiece.”
“The Doyles were supposed to meet with the funeral director today at fifteen hundred hours,” Brody informed them, though Townes was already aware of their schedule. “His name is Donald Barnaby.”
“The federal offices in Portland handled his call as to when Shailyn’s body would be available for release, saying sometime later this week.”
“I’ll take care of the family details.” Townes had a busy day, but he first needed to don a suit and then speak to Shailyn. As of today, the oncoming events would occur at a rapid rate. He wanted her prepared, but he also needed to know she was ready for the possible outcome. “Sawyer and Coen, I want the two of you to take lead on securing the personnel needed for this operation. Use your discretion as to who to bring in from the funeral home, as well as the cemetery grounds. I want this net airtight.”
“Royce and I intended to interview Lucas Grove again later this morning. We’re all in agreement that a twelve-year-old boy could never have been able to carry out the murder of Caroline Marinovic alone,” Keane said, his voice drifting through the phone receiver. “We’re going to press him hard for some answers.”
“Do what you have to. Push the envelope,” Townes granted, having full faith that Keane and Royce understood the boundaries of such an interview.
It didn’t take him long to leave the major portion of the preparation for the upcoming operation in his team’s hands. He walked into the main house to see Brett and Camryn wrapping Christmas presents and humming along to Christmas carols as if this were any other ordinary holiday season. Shailyn was standing in the kitchen, looking on with desire to join in.
“Good morning,” Remy called out, her blonde hair pulled back in a twist with one strand left out to frame her face. The grey business suit gave away her destination. “I need to head into the office for the holiday luncheon. Does anyone need anything while I’m in the city?”
A few items were thrown out; mainly another round of wrapping paper, bows, and tape requested. Brett had grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down the list. Remy took it, along with her briefcase she’d carried into the kitchen, and proceeded to the patio door.
“See you guys later,” Remy called out, slowing her pace as she walked past Townes. “I was able to secure that item you requested. Delivery is Christmas morning.”
Remy winked at him as he opened the sliding glass door, allowing her to step out into the morning sunshine. It was a rather cool day, though. December temperatures always tended to bring a little chill with it. He had no doubt that she was heading to the main outbuilding to say goodbye to Brody.
“Good morning.” Townes brushed past Shailyn, directly meeting her gaze. She smiled over the rim of her coffee cup. He reached for the white porcelain one next to the carafe. “Do you have a minute? I need to discuss a few things with you.”
“I have a lifetime of minutes,” Shailyn confessed, her cheeks turning the color of her hair when Camryn didn’t even bother to cover up her laugh. She mumbled an apology before using the scissors to strip a line of ribbon, causing the material to curl. “Speaking of which, we never really discussed my teaching position.”
Townes winced at where this conversation was heading, not bothering to cover up his facial expression. Her sigh was audible and accepting at the same time. Everyone thought she was dead, so there was nothing for her to do until Moss was brought into custody or planted in the Florida DOC cemetery.
“I’m sure your position will be given back to you once we explain to the college administration the unique circumstances you were encumbered by.” Townes ignored another chuckle from Camryn, though he did appreciate her attempt at keeping some humor injected into the situation. “Let’s go into my office. I want to discuss something with you in private.”
Shailyn straightened her shoulders as if he were about to tell her the world was coming to an end. He loathed that she automatically assumed the worst. She searched his body language for what could possibly have happened in the course of the hour he’d been with the team.
“It’s just an update, freckles. It’s nothing too dire.”
Townes poured the coffee into his mug, already thinking he should have taken the time to make his special blend in the office. Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to be around to enjoy it. He set the carafe back in place when he realized that it was too quiet. He picked up his mug and turned to find Brett and Camryn staring at him from their seats at the table.
He’d called Shailyn by her nickname in front of them. He’d fallen back into an old routine, but he refused to apologize for it. These women had only ever saw him a certain way, mostly due to his role in this company. That didn’t mean he would forego the intimacy that had grown between him and Shailyn.
“I’m heading over to your parents’ house. There are some things I need to discuss with them,” Townes explained quietly, resting his hand on Shailyn’s lower back. He guided her out of the kitchen, down the hallway, and steered her toward the staircase instead of his office. “I’m running low on time, so we’ll have to talk as I’m getting ready.”
“What you’re wearing is fine.” Shailyn shot him a sideways glance. It was more than apparent she thought he was changing his clothes because of the upcoming confrontation with her father. That was far from the case. He was very comfortable with who he was as a man. He had nothing to prove, and Carter Doyle certainly wasn’t the reason he needed to don a suit. “Is there a reason my parents can’t come here?”
“I know you’d like to see them again, but we can’t risk Moss thinking that you’re here and very much alive.” Townes continued to guide Shailyn down the long hallway to where their bedroom was located. He’d waited a long time to have this sense of home. There wasn’t a chance in hell he would risk having it taken away. “Which is why I’m going to have your parents continue to plan your funeral service.”
“That is a bit morbid,” Shailyn expressed with a hint of despair. She moved through the room and sat on the edge of the bed as he made his way to their walk-through closet. “So that’s it? We’re just going to hope he believes I’m dead and moves on?”
“No, not at all.” Townes removed his holster, using one of the various hooks on the wall for a temporary holder. How could he explain what was about to take place without adding to her stress? He removed his t-shirt and then glanced over toward the bed. “We’re setting up a sting. We’re using your funeral as bait.”
“Because Moss will want to see my dead body for himself. Please tell me I won’t have to lie in a coffin to make this believable.”
The sadness in her voice caused his chest to tighten. This was exactly why he’d wanted to have this conversation in private. He quickly switched out his jeans for his dress pants before taking a white dress shirt off the hanger. He walked into the bedroom with every intention of altering how she viewed the upcoming days.
“Moss needs to see you, Shailyn. You are all he’s thought of every day in that cell for years. He would have preferred to be with you when you took your last breath, but for some reason it’s vital he say his final goodbyes in person.”
Shailyn had laid down on the made bed, the white scarf around her neck stark against the dark color of the comforter. She was staring at the ceiling, but her emerald green eyes averted to his as he leaned over her to stress his point.
“Moss will show up at your funeral. When he does, we’ll be there to end this.”
Townes brushed aside a strand of her auburn hair. She had always been his everything. No one would take away what they’d finally reclaimed…not even Moss.
*
Shailyn stared up into those grey eyes that she’d dreamed of last night and this morning, wishing the fear that had gripped her since waking would fade into oblivion. Townes had been in the shower when she’d jolted awake and sought his warmth. His side of the bed had been cold from his absence.
They’d made love…beautiful love. He’d spent hours kissing every mark, blemish, and scar that marked her body. She understood that he’d done so to prove to her he wasn’t bothered by the multitude of distortions Moss had left on her body.
It was her soul that worried her most.
“Why can’t we just stay here for the rest of our lives?” Shailyn whispered, reaching up with her right hand and pressing it against his cheek imploringly. He was leaning over her without a shirt. Did he think that his masculinity didn’t affect her? It took everything in her not to touch him the way she wanted. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for what you created here.”
“I can think of many ways you can do exactly that, but right now all I need is your promise that you’ll stay here while the team and I see this investigation through to the end.” Townes rested his elbow on the bed as he slowly leaned down and kissed her thoroughly. He took his time and never once made her think he was needed elsewhere. “Is there anything you need?”
There were a lot of things she needed, but he was already working on that list. She forced a smile and shook her head, déjà vu settling in when he pulled away. Her nightmare returned with a vengeance.
“Freckles?”
“Here,” Shailyn said, clearing her throat and using his hand as leverage to move off the bed. She took his shirt and held it open, prompting him to slip his arms into the sleeves. Her small diversion didn’t work from the way he raised his eyebrow. “Will you tell my parents that I love them?”
“Of course, I will.” Townes allowed her to fasten each button on his dress shirt, though he was watching her closely. “You can tell them yourself when this is all said and done.”
Shailyn finished her task and then stepped back, allowing him to tuck the dress shirt into his black pants. She resisted the urge to wrap her arms around her waist for fear he would question her further, but she didn’t want to add more to his already full plate. She walked to the window, adjusting the security shutter so that a little bit of sunshine came through the slats.
“Did you think that I wouldn’t get retribution?”
Moss held the same knife in his hand that he’d used to torture her with all those years ago. Townes was on his knees, bloody and bruised. The knife was at his throat.
“You don’t get to live your life without me, Shailyn.”
Shailyn was startled when Townes began to list the things he had on his agenda for the day. His voice had chased away the visions from her nightmare this morning.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the fates had another itinerary for them.
*
“In an update on the Shepherd Moss investigation, it appears the parents of Shailyn Doyle will be holding her funeral the morning of Christmas Eve. It’s a tragedy what Carter and Pam Doyle have endured during…”
He peered down at the sightless eyes staring up at him in what appeared to be shock. Death shouldn’t have come as a surprise, though it was understandable given past events.
Maybe a message would be beneficial. It would be broadcasted so that his followers understood what happened when he was betrayed.
He knelt beside the body and dragged a finger through the pooling blood. He didn’t like to kill simply for the sake of killing. There was no pleasure if there was no pain inflicted. It didn’t take long to write the one word that would capture Townes Calvert’s attention.
Caroline.