CHAPTER
FIFTY-FIVE

Savage River
Dr. Samantha Owens

“But Culpepper was in Iraq when Donovan got killed. Fletcher told me.”

“Culpepper lies. Colonel Orange is a master manipulator. He even managed to talk Doc into going to work for him at Raptor. Got Jackal in there, too, and Shakes. But they weren’t able to hack it. Jackal was majorly fucked up, saw too much. He had some of the worst PTSD I’ve ever seen. And Shakes, well, he drank like a fish. Always did. Hard to show up for a job when you’re passed out in the gutter. But Doc, man, he found a way to make it work.”

The fire popped and crackled, and Sam burrowed deeper in Xander’s jacket.

“Why didn’t you go work for Culpepper, too?”

Xander waited for a minute, then shrugged. “I had a bad feeling about Orange. As good as he was, I just never fully trusted him. I wanted out, all the way out. Out of the military, out of D.C. and the bullshit there, out of it all.”

“So you built this place and ran away.”

He glanced at her, jaw tightening. She’d offended him again. Would she ever say the right thing to him? But he surprised her by smiling.

“Yep. And it’s been nice and quiet for years, until Doc and Jackal came flying up here two weeks ago, telling me we had some sort of major problem. Someone had sent them each a note saying ‘Do the Right Thing.’”

“Taranto. Taranto sent the notes.”

“Yes, little fuck told me that. If he’d just been straightforward from the beginning, maybe none of this would have happened.”

“So Donovan and Croswell came up here two weeks ago?”

“Fighting like cats and dogs, too. Jackal wanted to have a sit-down with Taranto, Doc was dead set against it. Who could blame him—the official report says it was his weapon that fired the shots that killed King. He doesn’t need that in the media. But those two, they turned on each other, got fighting down in the river, for God’s sake. I had to wade in and pull Jackal off Doc. He had his head under the water, practically drowned him. We’re not supposed to water-board our teammates. Doc came up pissed, madder than a wet hen, pinned Jackal down face-first. Idiots practically killed each other.

“We must have looked like fools. Thor was bounding around barking, thinking we’re playing, I’m screaming at them, trying to remind them that you don’t turn on your friends, that we’d figure out who was behind the notes, everything.”

“The sand in their lungs,” Sam murmured.

“What?”

She took a deep breath, happy to at least have one part of the mystery explained satisfactorily. “Both Donovan and Croswell presented with fresh irritations from inhaling sand into their trachea and lungs. It’s what initially made you the number-one suspect. The sand’s biological makeup traced back to here. The Savage River.”

“Wow. That’s … awful.”

“What about Everett, though? How does his suicide fit into all of this?”

“He wasn’t a suicide. I went down there, I told you that. He wasn’t answering his phone, and after Doc and Jackal, I got worried. That’s how they got the hair they matched to my DNA. I checked the scene thoroughly. They were both dead when I got there, had been for a day or so. Trust me, Shakes wouldn’t kill his mother. He may be a drunk, unable to hold down a job for long, but he loved her. No, I’m betting Culpepper went to see him, make sure he wasn’t going to do any talking to the media. Somehow Mrs. Everett got in the way and was killed.”

His voice caught. “Shakes wasn’t doing too well. He was unstable enough as it was. A push in the right direction—either at gunpoint or through serious intimidation, and he’d cave. If he did cut his own wrists, he was coerced.”

“Jesus,” Sam said. “This just keeps getting worse. So what’s on the pages from Donovan’s journal? Details about the note and y’all getting threatened?”

“You just said ‘y’all.’”

“So? I’m from Nashville. It’s not exactly a stretch.”

He smiled at her. “I liked it, that’s all. No, I think Doc finally realized what his brain wouldn’t let him know. He didn’t kill King. There was no way. But all these years, he’s felt responsible.”

“Culpepper killed King, I take it?”

“That’s what I think. Maggie told him about the rape. I assume King went to Culpepper and demanded retribution. Culpepper isn’t the kind of man who’s easily threatened. He probably swore to do the right thing, then shot King at the first good opportunity. For all I know, he got that firefight started in the first place. There was another unit closer that could have been called in. He set us up.”

She tried to absorb the enormity of what he’d just told her. “God, Xander. All of this. He rapes a woman, murders her boyfriend, then kills three more men to cover his tracks. But why now? He’s had plenty of time. He could have made it look like an accident.”

“No, that wasn’t his way. See, Karen is crazy as a fox. When Shakes spilled the beans to her about the friendly fire incident, and she started digging, she must have found out about Maggie. She went to Orange for confirmation, and God knows what sort of lies he told her.”

“And somewhere along the way, she found out that Jen is King’s daughter.”

“No, she’s not.” Maggie’s voice interrupted them. She came around the fire, her long body casting grotesque shadows across the yard and onto the trees beyond. Sam saw one that was distinctly rectangular. Maggie had a weapon in her hand.

Xander shifted toward her, and Sam heard the confusion in his voice. “What are you talking about, Mags? You told me—”

“Never mind what I told you. I lied. I had to.”

“Xander, she has a gun.” Sam was stuck between the two of them. She saw Xander’s hand go to his waist, hoped the gun wasn’t visible. She couldn’t believe it. All this time, she was utterly convinced Culpepper, Orange, had been the killer. She didn’t think it was Maggie. Didn’t want to think it could be Maggie. She liked the woman, damn it.

But here Maggie was, with her weapon pointed right at Xander’s head.

Xander froze, and Maggie took three steps closer.

“Maggie. You don’t want to do this.”

She laughed, humorlessly.

“Xander, I don’t have a choice.”

And she pulled the trigger.