CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Hatcher’s keys dug into the palm of his hand as he gripped them. “You think you read a confession of murder?”
“I’m not sure,” Korine said. “The posts are anonymous. No names mentioned, and no specifics. But a couple of entries really disturbed me. I thought Tinsley might have some insight.”
He didn’t want to have to face Tinsley again, but if she had answers, he had to. “You want to drop your car at the precinct?”
“The women’s march is taking place now,” Korine said. “Traffic will be a nightmare. Let’s leave my car here and come back afterward and pick it up.”
She was right. They needed to stay clear of the downtown for a couple of hours, especially the area near the courthouse.
Korine climbed in the passenger seat of his SUV, and he started the engine. “How did it go with your brother?” he asked.
She stared out the window as he drove. “He’s mad. Sullen. I just hope he stays this time.”
“He’s been in rehab before?”
She nodded. “Under duress. He left, twice. I told him this is it. If he doesn’t stick it out, I’m done.”
He didn’t blame her. But cutting off a family member would be difficult. Not that he knew. He’d lost his family when he was young. A tractor trailer had run into them head-on.
The temptation to reach out and comfort Korine hit him, but he fought it off.
Her family wasn’t his problem.
He had his own ghosts to deal with.
Rain fell as he parked at Tinsley’s cottage. Dark clouds hovered just above the horizon, the dull gray bleeding into the tides as the waves crashed angrily against the shore. Sea oats swayed in the gusty breeze, the wind howling as if warning that something bad was about to happen.
The beach was deserted—rain pinging onto the sand and creating wading pools along the seashell-lined shore where birds soared and dipped down, scrounging for food.
Korine climbed out as soon as Hatcher parked, tugging her jacket hood up to ward off the rain. He didn’t bother with a jacket. He ran for the porch and the cover of the awning. Korine joined him, shaking the rain off as he knocked.
A light burned through the kitchen window, another in the den. Seconds later, Tinsley peeked through the peephole in the door, her eyes flaring with worry when she spotted them.
“Please open up, Tinsley,” Korine said. “We have to talk.”
A tense second passed, then the sound of the locks turning, and Tinsley opened the door.
“Did you find the person who killed Judge Wadsworth?” Tinsley asked.
“Not yet.” Hatcher clenched his jaw at her pale face. This woman needed sunshine and fresh air, not to be locked away like a terrified animal.
“That’s why we’re here,” Korine said. “We think you may have connected with the killer.”
Tinsley gasped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She gestured toward the door as if to ask them to leave, but Korine took a step closer to her. “It’s possible that the killer may have commented on your blog.”
Tinsley clenched the door edge with a white-knuckled grip. “Are you accusing me of something? Because if you are, maybe I need a lawyer.”
Korine raised a brow in question. “Do you need a lawyer, Tinsley?”
The uneasiness in Tinsley’s reaction made Korine take a deep breath. The last thing she wanted to do was to put this poor young woman through any more pain.
But if she knew who’d killed the judge and was keeping silent, she could be considered an accomplice.
Hatcher gave Korine a dark look. “Take it easy, Agent Davenport.”
She glared at him. He was sympathetic where Tinsley was concerned, but she couldn’t allow his personal involvement to keep her from doing her job. Bellows had assigned her to Hatcher to make sure he still had game, and she intended to follow orders.
“Do you want a lawyer?” she asked Tinsley again, although this time she softened her tone.
Tinsley clasped her hands together, her wary gaze darting between the two of them. “I haven’t done anything wrong. For goodness sake, I haven’t left this house since I moved in.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything,” Korine said. “But there was another murder case that we caught, a pedophile named Pallo Whiting.”
Tinsley’s face blanched.
“Do you know him?” Hatcher asked.
Tinsley swallowed hard. “Not personally, but I heard the news story about him. It was horrible what he did to those children.”
“Yes, it was,” Korine said. “He was serving time but escaped during a prison transfer.” She waited for Tinsley’s reaction, but the young woman simply breathed deeply, then turned and walked into the living area. She and Hatcher followed.
“Someone cut his penis off and let him bleed to death,” Korine stated bluntly.
Tinsley made a strangled sound in her throat. “That’s horrible. But . . . I’m sure the mothers of the children he hurt will sleep better now he’s gone.”
“Probably,” Korine said. “Unless one of them killed him.”
Tinsley sank onto the sofa. “I didn’t know any of those children or their families. And I certainly didn’t kill that depraved man.”
“Maybe not, but let’s talk about your Heart & Soul blog, specifically responses from individuals,” Korine said.
“I want victims and their families to share their stories,” Tinsley said. “My therapist suggested it would be good for me, and it has been. I hope it’s cathartic for others.”
“It’s a form of group therapy, isn’t it?” Korine asked.
“In a manner of speaking,” Tinsley said. “Except there isn’t a counselor to lead the group. Everyone is free to speak their minds. No judgment, just honest feelings.”
“It’s all anonymous?”
Tinsley nodded. “If someone wants to post their real name, they’re free to, but most people choose to remain anonymous or use fake names. The only rule I have is that everyone refrain from criticizing others. Feelings and emotions aren’t right or wrong. Everyone reacts differently to situations and trauma. Speaking those feelings or writing them down is a healthier way to purge dark emotions than acting upon them.”
Korine slid onto the sofa beside her. “I know you want to protect the individuals posting, but a couple of the comments read as if they’re murder confessions.”
Tinsley chewed her bottom lip, then looked up at Hatcher. “Some of us have fantasized about killing the person who hurt us,” she said in a choked voice. “You understand that—don’t you, Hatcher?”
Hatcher muttered yes.
“But that doesn’t mean we acted on those fantasies,” Tinsley said.
Korine’s gaze met Hatcher’s. “But it’s possible that one of them did.”
Hatcher’s eyes glittered with anger, then he gestured toward Tinsley’s computer. “Show us what you’re talking about.”
Korine gave him an icy look, then crossed the room to Tinsley’s desk. Tinsley quickly joined her, accessed the blog, then allowed Korine to scroll through the posts.
Hatcher hoped to hell Korine was wrong. But if someone had written a confession to Tinsley, he couldn’t ignore it.
It didn’t mean that Tinsley knew a crime had been committed.
Hell, she’d reported the judge’s murder.
Still, Korine might have found a lead.
His stomach rolled as he began to read:
He had hurt too many young girls. Stripped them of their innocence and scarred them for life. Not just physical scars. But mental ones.
The emotional ones were easier to hide. At least on the surface.
But they are the hardest to overcome.
I tried to make him pay before. The legal way.
But he escaped justice.
I knew he’d come for me. I lay in the dark with a knife gripped in my hand.
The floor creaked. Then his voice.
“I love them. You can’t take them away from me.”
He liked to taunt his victims. To watch their faces contort with fear.
To hear them scream.
He lunged at me and reached for my throat.
Channeling rage and pain into my will to live, I lifted my hand and rammed the knife into him.
Blood gushed from his heartless chest and flooded my hand. I dug the knife deeper.
His body jerked and spasmed, a guttural, choked sound filling the air as he realized he was going to die.
That he would never touch another young girl again.
He collapsed on top of me, and I gasped for air. That vile smell, his blood, the stench . . . I had to get away from him.
His blood soaked my gown, my sheets, my arms and legs.
I choked back a scream and shoved him off me. His head hit the floor with a whack. The rest of his body followed.
Tears blurred my eyes. I had killed someone. Taken a human life.
Only he hadn’t been human.
I smiled. At least one monster was gone.
But there would always be another.