CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Let’s just say that the list of suspects has now somewhat narrowed,” Detective Kendrick shared over the coffee that Brynn had made Lance stop for at the diner. She’d gotten herself a Coke to go, but she hadn’t take a sip of the soda since they’d parked in front of Lance’s house. “But I can’t rule out a connection to you and your family. Do I think it’s likely? No. Let’s face it. Could Noah have accidentally stumbled upon Sophia’s body due to some kind of guilt you were unable to live with anymore? Sure, though it’s highly unlikely. Could you, Lance, have conveniently found pictures of several victims to help expose someone’s guilt? Maybe, but I don’t believe that any more than I believe that crap about your brother.”
Kendrick was inferring that the Kendalls, as a family unit, were under attack.
Lance didn’t have to set eyes on Brynn to know she’d tensed at the suggestion. This was the reason she was here, because for some reason she didn’t like the media or the police making that connection. At least the detective in front of them was willing to see beyond the obvious smokescreen.
They were all currently standing around Lance’s kitchen, surrounding the small island that he would eventually remove to make the room larger. This was where the detective wanted to meet, but he’d yet to give his reasons why.
“I bought both of the properties from Harlan Whitmore.” Gus thinned his lips in frustration as he regarded Detective Kendrick with annoyance. “I’m not throwing Whitmore under the bus, and I by no means am inferring that he had something to do with a body being encased inside drywall some eleven years ago. My boys were just teenagers back then. I’d say you can rule out any spurious connections to us.”
“I wasn’t referring to Sophia Morton,” Detective Kendrick pointed out, leveling a look Noah’s way. The detective had the appearance of a federal agent, with the square jaw and penetrating gaze. Lance was good at reading people, though, and the man investigating this case was no doubt one of the good guys. He took his job seriously, and he didn’t leave any stone unturned. “Deputy Wallace was murdered on your property, Noah. I believe the act was committed because someone was returning to the original crime scene in belief that he left something behind. Do I think the homicide is connected to the fact that a Kendall bought the property? No, but I need to rule it out.”
Lance didn’t miss the fact that Brynn’s gaze immediately landed on him. They’d talked about whether a man or woman had committed these crimes, assuming a male individual was responsible due to a number of reasons. Detective Kendrick must have information if he was so willingly sharing that his suspect was in fact male.
Lance would address his other question about how they could go about ruling out the Kendalls’ involvement.
“He?” Lance asked, not blinking twice when he sensed Brynn’s hand on his lower back. Noah and Reese were to their left, while his dad and Detective Kendrick stood on the opposite side near the sink. “I take it there is evidence to back that assumption up?”
“Yes, actually, there is,” Detective Kendrick shared rather grimly. His brows almost touched as he relayed the forensic evidence that must have come in recently. Lance couldn’t help but wonder what other physical evidence had been brought to light. “Sophia Morton’s cause of death was manual strangulation. A female assailant is most certainly ruled out from the amount of force used, the tissue damage evident, and the measurement of the indentation left behind by the assailant’s hands. I’m sorry, Reese.”
Reese leaned into Noah as she struggled to maintain her composure. He’d wrapped his arm around her and tucked her tighter into his body, as if trying to brace her for what might be coming next. It was natural to assume that Sophia had been sexually assaulted from Detective Kendrick’s proof that a man was responsible for her death.
It was more than a relief to hear otherwise, but just as disturbing to be told the reason why.
“Sophia wasn’t sexually assaulted, but by the width of the killer’s fingers and hands, we believe the victim was killed by an adult male individual.” Detective Kendrick paused, though it wasn’t a hesitation. It was as if he were allowing them to brace themselves for the continuing flow of information. “Although Sophia was wrapped inside a plastic tarp, we found evidence that the killer displayed some level of kindness when preparing her body for entombment.”
Preparing was a nice way of saying that Sophia was stuffed into a wall and all but forgotten.
“I don’t understand,” Reese said, after clearing her throat so that her words came out clear. There was no doubting her emotional strength after she’d gone through years of searching for her cousin, and it was clear to see that Noah respected and loved that side of her. She stepped forward and rested her hands on top of the counter. “What do you mean—kindness?”
Reese practically spit out the description, her tone letting everyone know she didn’t care for Kendrick’s assessment of how her cousin was treated.
“Sophia was slowly strangled to death, so how does that horrible scenario even remotely point to this killer showing any amount of kindness?”
“Reese has a point,” Lance pointed out, sharing a knowing look with Noah. They’d both been in combat and killed to accomplish the mission. There was no kindness shown in death. “Murder is murder. What did he do that was kind?”
“This killer took the time to pose Sophia’s body in a peaceful, resting position, with her hands resting over her abdomen holding a flower.”
“A flower?” The disgust lining Reese’s tone was undeniable. She shook her head to dispel the image, but Lance doubted it would be that easy. “I need some air.”
Detective Kendrick waited until Reese had left the room before continuing. It was easy to see Noah struggling to stay to take part in the rest of the conversation when he wanted nothing more than to go outside and comfort Reese.
“This type of behavior by a serial killer denotes that he displays affection toward his victims. I reached out to a friend of mine in the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI. She believes that Emma might have been his first victim, followed nearly a year later by Sophia.”
“And you believe we know this individual?” Brynn tightened her fingers so that the fabric of Lance’s shirt was caught snug in her grip. “I understand why you would believe all these cases are linked, but you’re still saying we would have to know the man responsible. I have trouble accepting that premise.”
“Ms. Mercer, it’s very rare that we make an arrest in these cases where the neighbors say they saw all the signs of a deranged lunatic. I’m sorry, but these specific individuals are very good at hiding what they truly are on a daily basis.” Detective Kendrick reached behind him for the newspaper he’d folded in thirds and set it beside the sink. He dropped it in the middle of the counter so that it opened like a flower, displaying the photograph he’d purposefully intended to show. “You no longer need to worry about who broke into your home, Lance. We know who it was.”
There, as big as life, was a photograph of the furnace located in his basement where he’d found the tin can of pictures. Some douchebag thought it was okay to break into someone’s home…and all for gaining advantage on his competition. They wanted a picture of where the photos were found.
“An arrest has already been made, but that still doesn’t tell us why the killer chose this house to hide his mementos. Lance, I need to ask you a couple of questions about the night you snuck Emma Irwin and Sophia Morton out of summer camp.” Now they were getting somewhere. Lance had nothing to hide, and he wanted his involvement in this investigation to be done. Now that he’d been informed that a reporter was to blame for the broken window and illegal entry into his home, he wouldn’t need to worry about being targeted by this coward who was preying on women. “You said you were doing the girls a favor for one in return. Ms. Osburn confirmed she met with Sophia, but not Emma on the night in question. We’re assuming Emma waited for Sophia outside the diner. What I need to know is whether you saw anyone other than Arthur Fetter that night. Did you pass a vehicle from the lake to town or vice versa? Did anyone visit the camp that week who might have stood out to you? Maybe someone who didn’t belong, wasn’t dressed right, or was out of place somehow?”
Lance shook his head, having gone over that night a million times since then. The detective obviously wasn’t from a small town himself, or he’d realize that almost every adult showed up at camp at some point or another…whether to help out in some capacity or to pick up their children for dinner by the lake. There were visitors at the camp all the time.
“It would probably be easier to tell you who wasn’t at camp that year,” Lance replied, sharing a look with Brynn. “Birdie owned the property back then. It was her goal to have everyone pitch in as a community, and I’m talking even adults who didn’t have children donated their time. She also allowed the parents to visit their kids during their week at camp. Almost everyone’s mother and father visited at some point.”
“And Harlan Whitmore? You mentioned him a minute ago. Did he ever exhibit any type of behavior that caused you to question his motives or character?”
Silence hung heavy in the air.
Lance understood what the detective meant about neighbors not truly knowing their neighbors, but what he was suggesting just wasn’t possible.
“Miles Schaeffer?” Detective Kendrick followed up when he realized no one was willing to take the bait. “I know he had access to Pete Anderson’s residence twelve years ago. Do you recall if Mr. Schaeffer helped Arthur Fetter around his property doing small jobs? Mr. Fetter’s memory isn’t that good anymore. He couldn’t recall.”
Did that mean the good detective hadn’t questioned Miles with regards to his role in this investigation? It wasn’t right to be considered a suspect and have no idea he was about to be ambushed, but Lance also understood this was how the cases were solved in the grand scheme of things. Questions were slung around until one of the numerous answers stuck to the wall.
“Harlan and Miles aren’t killers.” Gus made the statement as if he’d read it from a slab of stone handwritten by God himself. He reached into the front pocket of his work shirt where he kept a couple of toothpicks and put one in between his thin lips. He wasn’t going to hear another word, and that was that. “I think I’ll go check on Reese and see how she’s doing.”
Lance backed away from the island, as did Brynn, giving his dad room to leave the kitchen. Brynn caught Gus’ hand from a brief moment, gently squeezing his fingers in understanding. He was friends with both men, and Lance was relatively sure that Kendrick had more suspects on his list than he was willing to say at the moment.
“Murder investigations are never pleasant.” Detective Kendrick adjusted his tie, alerting Lance that more information was about to be shared. The man had fiddled with his tie the first day they’d met in person, the night Lance had found the pictures, and now was no different. Noah even straightened his shoulders, as if he’d recognized the small tell the detective displayed when the conversation was about to take a turn for the worse. “Six out of the seven pictures in that tin you found are of missing teenagers from 2005 to 2012. Only one girl was spared, and it appears that oversight was recently corrected.”
Detective Kendrick was referring to the killer’s point of view, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.
“The other girls…Lance mentioned that he didn’t recognize them and they weren’t from anywhere around here,” Brynn pointed out, setting her Styrofoam cup on the counter. The tip of the straw had been chewed in worry with her teeth. “So wouldn’t that mean that you should be looking at someone who travels for their job? Maybe someone who is from another town?”
“Not necessarily. These girls went missing all within a ninety-mile radius.” Detective Kendrick zeroed in on Brynn as he continued to answer her question. “A trip into the city or different towns once or twice a year could have been done easily without this individual traveling for his job. What I do believe is that Emma Irwin was his first victim, followed by Sophia Morton. The timeline clearly shows that the suspect waited a year in between abducting his victims. Historically, a serial killer’s first victim is someone he actually knows or has associated with at some point in his life.”
“So the only one who’s been found was Sophia.” Noah stepped forward and set his palms on the edge of the counter. “What does that mean?”
“Honestly?” Detective Kendrick thinned his lips in frustration. “I brought that same fact up to my colleague at the BAU. She believes that when he was killing Sophia Morton, he was interrupted in whatever ritual he’d established and had to do something with her body quickly.”
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to bury the body?” Noah asked in disbelief. “You’re asking us to believe that shoving a body into a wall and sealing it inside with drywall was a quicker solution?”
“I’m saying Pete Anderson traveled for his job quite a bit, which was known to everyone in town. He took his family with him most of the time. It’s not out of the realm of possibility to believe this suspect had knowledge of that fact and used it toward his advantage. When Sophia went missing, the first hard frost had already hit the ground. The dirt would have been rock hard.”
Noah and Brynn began talking over one another, with Detective Kendrick fielding question after question. It wasn’t long before Reese and Gus came back in from outside and rejoined the conversation. The bottom line was that they were no closer to finding out who was responsible for something so hideous, nor had any of the Kendalls been able to shed any light on the investigation.
Detective Kendrick was still in the dark, though it did appear his suspect list was longer than any of them wished it to be. Many of their friends and neighbors were among the suspects, though there were valid circumstances that supported his reasoning. Kendrick believed someone they all knew had committed multiple murders.
Every piece of evidence was centered right around Blyth Lake.
“Detective?” Lance waited until the conversation died down before asking what no one had brought up this entire afternoon. “What about Whitney Bell? Have you found her body yet?”
“No.” Detective Kendrick loosened his tie a little more before meeting Lance’s stare. “Which is why I’m having groups of the state’s best cadaver dogs canvass the wooded areas around town. We believe this serial murderer has a killing ground somewhere nearby. When we find it, we might just uncover our killer.”