THIRTY-SEVEN
Two hours later every available law enforcement officer had been mobilized, and Craig Rafferty was nowhere to be found.
After Levi’s confession, Truman had approached Jeff Garrison, Eddie, and Sheriff Ward Rhodes in the Kilpatrick kitchen. Speaking carefully to protect Mercy’s story, he told them that Rose had recently told Levi that she suspected Craig Rafferty had tried to break in to their house fifteen years ago. Karl Kilpatrick had been sitting with the officers and chimed in that Rose had heard a voice that night but had never known who’d been outside their home. Sheriff Ward asked if Karl had reported the disturbance back then and Karl had said, “Why would I? Nothing happened.”
It was the strongest lead they had, and the officers had thrown everything they had into finding Craig Rafferty’s whereabouts.
Craig’s house was empty. His vehicle missing. Mike Bevins hadn’t seen him since they stopped by the Kilpatrick home last night to offer help. No one at the Bevins ranch had seen him after that. Jeff filed a request for his cell phone records, and officers continued patrols searching for his vehicle.
His disappearance encouraged them that they were on the right track.
Eddie had given Truman an odd look, asking why Levi hadn’t mentioned Craig earlier. Truman had shrugged and lied, saying Rose hadn’t been positive about the identification and Levi hadn’t wanted to send the investigation in the wrong direction. Eddie had nodded, holding Truman’s gaze, and Truman suspected he knew he was bending the truth.
The other officers had jumped on the lead, not caring about its source.
And it was looking solid.
But no one could find Craig Rafferty.
Jeff Garrison scribbled on a pad of paper. “Who are his friends? Where’s he hang out? Does he own any other properties? Does he go fishing or hunting and use someone’s cabin? If he’s got a hostage, he needs a place to hold her without any prying eyes.”
“That describes nearly every place around here,” Truman muttered.
“Get his boss over here,” Garrison continued. “I want to talk to the guys he works with. We need to know what he likes to do.”
“This is the first time he’s taken anyone,” Eddie pointed out. “Before, someone was always killed in their home. Why is he changing it up?”
“We thought the most recent kills were for the weapons,” Sheriff Rhodes stated. “Taking Rose Kilpatrick doesn’t have anything to do with weapons, does it?” He looked to Karl, who shook his head.
“I don’t have more than a dozen guns,” her father said. “And they’re all intact. I checked.”
“So he’s returned to killing and raping women after a fifteen-year hiatus?” the sheriff muttered.
Karl turned white.
“We don’t know that,” Truman interjected. “Taking Rose indicates a totally different goal.” He wanted to kick the sheriff in the ass for speaking like that in front of her father.
“What’s that goal?” Garrison asked, looking at the other men. “That will help us find her.”
The other men exchanged glances.
“After Rose visited the Bevins ranch yesterday,” Truman said slowly, “he might have decided she was fishing around to identify his voice from all those years ago. Since the prepper murders, we’ve been taking a hard look at the Jennifer Sanders and Gwen Vargas cases. He could be nervous that he’s about to be caught for those. So he eliminates the witness.”
“But taking Rose increases the heat,” countered Eddie.
“I didn’t say he was the sharpest tool in the shed,” said Truman.
“Rose and I talked about that attempted break-in the other day,” Mercy said.
Truman hadn’t heard her enter the room. Her eyes were red and wet. Dark shadows were smudged under them.
“She’s wondered for a long time whose voice she heard that night,” said Mercy. “I think me being in town and looking into the old murders has stirred things up.”
“You flushed out a killer?” Jeff asked.
Mercy held his gaze. “Possibly.”
Truman held his breath, wondering if she was about to tell the full story of the attacks. “You said Rose heard someone outside the house that night, right? And the two of you managed to scare him off?”
She looked at him. Indecision in her eyes. Would she tell the truth or use the old story she’d told her parents?
“Yes,” she said.
“Shoulda told the police back then,” Rhodes muttered. “Maybe we could have caught who murdered those girls.”
“Wasn’t any of our business,” Karl Kilpatrick snapped at Rhodes. “I didn’t need the police poking around in my home when nothing happened.”
“I bet you want our help now,” Rhodes shot back.
Karl leaped to his feet, sending his chair screeching across the kitchen.
Jeff slammed his hands on the table. “Knock it off! Arguing about what someone didn’t do fifteen years ago isn’t helping. Sit down!” He pointed at Karl. The man glared back but took his seat.
“We’ll find your daughter,” Jeff said in a calm voice to Karl.
Mercy’s father slumped in his chair.
Mercy stared at her father for a few seconds and walked out of the room. Truman followed her out the front door to where she leaned on the rail of the front porch. “It’s warm in there,” she said.
Truman agreed. “Where’s Levi?” he asked.
“He went home. He wanted to be there when Kaylie left for school. I think he’ll come back after that.” She turned her head toward him, a question in her eyes. “How did you know Levi was hiding something?”
“I didn’t.”
“You told him you needed to hear what he had to say when he woke me up this morning. Why?”
Truman sat on the rail next to her. “I watched everyone last night. Pearl. Your dad. Levi. He couldn’t hold still. Which isn’t cause for alarm, but something in his eyes every time he looked at your mother seemed off. He looked crushed . . . but in a guilty sort of way. I chalked it up to the stress of the situation. But when I saw him as he woke you this morning, that was the face of a man with a burden to share.”
“So you didn’t know what he’d done.”
“No. I just knew it could be ugly.”
“I have a hard time believing Craig Rafferty is a killer,” Mercy said. “I’ve known him most my life. He’s friends with my brothers.”
“I don’t know if Levi would call him a friend. Their relationship is based on mutual fear of each other.” What if I hadn’t saved Craig that day at the river? Would those girls have died? Would any of this be happening?
He looked at Mercy beside him. Would I have met her?
He would have. At some point their paths would have crossed—somehow. He knew it as firmly as he’d realized his life had changed the day he gave two FBI agents a tour of his uncle’s home.
Sometimes you meet a person you’re destined to have in your life forever.
She might not know it yet, but he did.
In the middle of murders and mourning one good thing had appeared.
Did you send her to me, Uncle Jefferson?
He’d been angry and depressed since his uncle’s death, but looking back, he saw how it’d turned around when she arrived in town. Every day he woke up and looked forward to seeing her again.
Does she feel the same?
“I can’t just stand around here,” Mercy said, pushing herself off the rail. She started to stride across the porch, as she had paced the night before. “I need to do something.”
“Garrison won’t let you be involved.”
“Then he won’t care if we go for a drive. We can at least look for Craig’s truck. Maybe he went back to the cave at Owlie Lake.”
“The one picked apart by evidence teams?”
She stopped and looked at him, her hands on her hips. “Get me out of here, Truman.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
An hour later Mercy stared out her window, unable to get something Truman had said yesterday out of her mind. They’d driven down every street in Eagle’s Nest, stopped for coffee, and argued over which highway to search next. Truman had won, and they drove, checking every passing truck to see if it was Craig’s Chevy.
“Whose death did you cause?” she kept her voice low, her face to the window, but she saw his reflection stiffen.
“Another cop. I hesitated when I should have acted. And then I made the wrong choice when I did act. A woman—maybe two—died because I hesitated.”
He haltingly told a story of a burning car that made her want to cry.
“I think you made the right decision in a very stressful moment. The fire extinguisher might have put out the fire.”
He didn’t say anything.
“I’m sure you’ve relived it with dozens of different scenarios.”
“Knowing that my lack of action led to someone’s death put me out of commission for a while. I believed I was done with law enforcement. I’d entered the field wanting to help people and I’d done the opposite—”
“Truman—”
“Let me get this out.” He kept his eyes on the road. “This job in Eagle’s Nest opened a door that I believed had been slammed firmly shut. Now I pray every day that I make the right decision if that type of situation ever arises again.”
“I’m sorry, Truman,” she whispered. Survivor’s guilt. Doubting his decisions. She understood.
Am I doing the right thing by keeping my secret?
His phone rang through the speakers of the Tahoe. He hit a button on his steering wheel. “Daly.”
“Chief Daly?”
“Yes. You’re on speaker and I have Special Agent Mercy Kilpatrick with me. Who is this?”
“This is Sharon Cox. I’m Toby’s mom.”
Mercy came to attention at the name of the witness she’d interviewed days ago.
“Yes, Sharon. Is everything okay with Toby?” Truman asked with concern.
“Well, not really. He’s been up all night and is extremely upset. I’ve never seen him like this.” She paused. “He insisted I phone you. He’s been pacing and crying and I can’t get him to relax. I’m only calling because I need him to settle down and—”
“What’s he want you to tell me?” Truman said sharply.
The woman’s deep breath sounded over the speakers. “This is going to sound ridiculous, but he says he saw a ghost at Ned Fahey’s home yesterday.”
Mercy smiled, remembering Toby’s fear of ghosts. But Truman scowled and abruptly pulled the Tahoe over onto the red gravel lining the highway. Mercy grabbed her door handle to keep her balance.
Truman stared intently at his dashboard as if he could see Sharon Cox. “Can Toby describe this ghost? Can I talk to Toby?”
“Well,” Sharon said reluctantly. “I guess so. If you don’t mind. I really didn’t want him to bother you, but he’s really getting on my—”
“Put him on the phone,” Truman ordered.
They heard Sharon holler for Toby.
“You think someone’s been in Ned’s house,” Mercy whispered. Would Craig take Rose there?
“I think Toby saw something. He wouldn’t be so upset if he hadn’t. Could be nothing, but it’s worth taking a look.” He checked both directions on the two-lane highway and pulled a U-turn.
“Chief Daly?” Toby’s voice boomed through the speakers, and Truman turned down the volume.
“Yes, Toby. Mercy from the FBI can hear you too. What’s going on?”
“I heard Ned’s ghost! You were wrong that his ghost left!”
“Where did you hear it, Toby?”
“I went in his house,” Toby said slowly. “I know I’m not supposed to, but I wanted to see if his body was really gone.”
“It’s gone. Mercy and I told you that. What did you see in there?”
“I didn’t make it to his bedroom. I heard his voice—he sounded like he was hurt!”
“Did you look for him?” Truman asked. He pushed the Tahoe up to seventy-five, heading in Ned Fahey’s direction.
“No! I got out of there as fast as I could!”
“Could you make out any words?” Mercy spoke up.
“I think he asked me to help him.” Toby’s voice dissolved into hiccups. “Should I have helped him? I was so scared. I just had to get out of there.”
“You did the right thing,” Truman reassured him. “Toby, wasn’t the house locked up? Do you have a key?”
“I don’t have a key. Ned would never give out his keys to anyone.” His voice wavered. “He’s going to be so mad at me.”
“Toby,” Mercy said firmly. “How’d you get in the house?”
“I used the tunnel,” he whispered.
Mercy and Truman exchanged a look. “The tunnel?” she asked. “Where is that?”
“It starts in the woodshed. You have to move a small stack of wood near the back, but I left it open,” he wailed. “Ned always told me to be certain that it was covered back up with cut wood so no one could find it.”
A tunnel. Mercy was impressed.
“Why’d he have a tunnel?” Truman asked.
“So he could escape when the feds came for him,” Toby answered.
Mercy wondered what the old prepper would have thought of her, a fed, trying to solve his murder.
“I ran out the front door,” Toby moaned. “I left that open too. I don’t want to go back and close it. But Ned’s going to be so mad that I left it open.”
“Ned’s dead,” Mercy said gently. “He’s not angry with you.”
“He’s in there,” Toby insisted. “He said he’d haunt me and now he’s doing it. What if the ghost got out and followed me home? What if it’s in my house right now?” he wailed.
“Toby, Mercy and I are on our way. Do you trust us to take care of the ghost?”
Wet hiccups sounded from the speakers.
“We’ll go to Ned’s and then we’ll stop by your house and tell you what we found. I don’t believe Ned’s ghost would be interested in haunting you. He’d be more interested in playing pranks on Leighton Underwood, right? Why would he want to upset you when you helped him out around his place for so long?”
“True . . .”
“We’ll be there soon. Let me talk to your mom again.”
Sharon came on the phone.
“I’m going to stop by the Fahey house,” Truman told her. “Have you noticed any activity going on there?”
“I haven’t seen any ghosts,” she snapped. “Toby gets a thought in his head and he won’t let go of it and upsets the peace of everyone around him.”
“We’ll talk to him after we check out the house. We’re ten minutes away,” Truman said. He ended the call.
“What a horrible woman,” Mercy muttered. “Poor Toby. Do you think he really heard a voice?”
“I believe he heard someone ask for help.” He looked at Mercy. “I hope that person turns out to be your sister.”
“But it was last night,” she whispered, her mouth drying up. “A lot can happen in twelve hours.” Her brain spun with possibilities. Did he really hear a human? Could Rose be there?
Truman’s answer was to press on the accelerator.
She picked up her phone, her mind racing, her hope building. Please let it be Rose. She latched on to the new information and felt a positive energy grow in her chest. For the first time since Levi’s confession, she felt hope. “I’ll let Eddie know where we’re going. He’ll inform the rest.”
Hang on, Rose.