be the one?” Max asked. “Is there any other possible explanation for his boot leaving the kitchen print?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t think we can be sure until we piece all this together, maybe find his fingerprints on that knife or gun, or something else tying him to the murders. But it doesn’t look good for him, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t.”
At that point, Lieutenant Mueller walked out. He’d been inside the cabin, overseeing the search. “We found something in a desk drawer,” he said. “I think you’ll want to see these.”
He had an evidence bag, and inside was a four-inch stack of envelopes. Each one was addressed in a flowing, handwritten script to “My Dearest Myles.”
“Letters inside?” Max asked.
“Yup,” Mueller said. “Love letters.”
“Who signed them?” I inquired, although I certainly suspected that I knew.
“Laurel Johansson,” Mueller said.
I frowned, thinking about how the day had unfolded. This morning Mullins had been convinced that Carl was our killer. When I found the evidence that he was stalking Laurel, I tended to agree. Partly, I still did. But so much was coming together with Myles that seemed to suggest we were wrong about Carl. Yet I wasn’t ready to rule out Jacob’s buddy. Poor Laurel, I thought. I wondered if she knew how much jeopardy she was in and from whom. Maybe I hoped that she didn’t know. I didn’t like the thought that she may have spent her final days living in fear.
“We need copies, ASAP,” I said. “There could be something in one of those letters that would answer all our questions.” The originals would have to be preserved to be fingerprinted and logged into evidence, but I had to know what Laurel wrote.
“I’ll send someone to the office with them. We’ll have duplicates for you in an hour,” Mueller said.
“Good,” then I turned to Max. “Have we issued a be-on-the-lookout for Myles yet?”
“I did it on the way over here,” he said. “State troopers, everyone should be getting the BOLO as we speak.”
“Add to the alert that we think he’s on a bay stallion,” I said. “We need to get everyone looking for this guy. If it’s him, I want him behind bars pronto. If not, we need to rule him out and find the real killer.”
“You’re not convinced, despite the boot? You’re thinking about Carl, aren’t you?” Max asked.
“We still have more questions than answers,” I said. “But whoever is behind this, we need to figure it out fast. Max, we have no reason to be sure that this killer is done. Maybe this monster intended to massacre everyone in that house, and Jacob, even little Jeremy, are still in grave danger.”
“I’ve been…” Max said.
“Thinking of that, too?” I asked, and he nodded.
Twenty
Max stayed to watch over the search of the cabin, but I left as soon as the copies arrived. At the shelter, the closest thing I had to a home in Alber, Hannah and most of the women were sleeping. The only ones still up were a small group of night owls in the parlor, talking and hand-sewing squares for a quilt. Hannah had started working with some of the families in town that sold to gift shops, mostly in Salt Lake, to make money for the shelter. I’d been intrigued by all the ingenuity she used to pay the bills and buy food and supplies to keep the place functioning. Most of the donations came from mainstream Mormons, who gave generously to help the shelter, although they didn’t condone or practice polygamy. The hallways were dark as I walked quietly by the parlor, staying in the shadows. I paused at the foot of the stairs when I realized the quilters were talking about the Johansson case.
“I know what you’re saying. Bad things do happen everywhere. That’s true. But it’s so sad to think someone would do that to Anna and Laurel, those two innocent children,” a slightly built woman sitting on the couch said. “What will happen to Jacob now, and that poor little baby?”
“I heard that Naomi Jefferies found the bodies. Folks in town are saying that she’s been hanging around at the hospital with the family ever since it happened,” another woman said, her voice laced with just a bit of sarcasm. There was a titter among the group, and then the woman said, “I think she has eyes for Jacob.”
“Oh, no!” the first woman protested. “She’s years older than he is, and she has a bunch of kids. Why would he—”
“You