go.”
Thirteen
Bennett flew down the country road toward Henry’s house. Rain pattered the windshield and thunderclouds hovered overhead. Claire was preparing the search warrant, and the judge had promised to sign it electronically the moment it was ready. Several deputies were also en route although they were at least twenty minutes behind Bennett.
He prayed they would find something at Henry’s house, some indication of where he was holding Gretchen.
Emilia studied the photograph of Henry’s aunt. “How on earth did Sheriff King miss this connection? The crime scene is similar enough, he should have realized it when the first murder happened last year.”
“I had the same thought. Sheriff King insisted Henry was involved when we spoke to him the other day, but failed to mention the aunt’s murder. Either it was a horrible oversight on his part or…”
His voice trailed off as a horrifying thought solidified in his mind. No. it wasn’t possible.
Was it?
“Bennett, we never verified Sheriff King was on vacation with his wife when the first murder happened.” Emilia turned to face him. “He knew Derrick. Several people told us Sheriff King had done everything to prevent Malcolm from interacting with Derrick. What if that’s because Sheriff King and Derrick were partners?”
Bennett wanted to tell her the idea was insane, but he’d been wrong so many times during the course of this case, he wouldn’t reject anything outright.
“During the initial murders, Derrick took most of the risk,” Emilia continued. “He kidnapped the victims, the killing happened in his cabin, and the women were probably buried on his property. Maybe that was by design.”
Bennett glanced at her before locking his eyes on the road. “Derrick was expendable. A potential fall guy. Except the killer didn’t stop when Derrick died. He started up again.”
“Because he failed. It all comes back to that. The killer can’t stand losing, and that’s what happened last year when I escaped. His compulsion to finish what he started is impossible for him to ignore, even if it means taking greater risk in exposing himself.”
Bennett gripped the steering wheel tighter. Sheriff King was stubborn and never wavered once his mind was made up. His personality was completely in line with what Emilia was describing.
“You said the murders were ritualistic.” Bennett increased the speed of his windshield wipers. “How does that fit if Sheriff King was working with Derrick? Doesn’t it make more sense that Henry was working with Derrick?”
“Not if the killer was smart enough to create a second backup plan. Someone he could frame if Derrick got caught or was killed.” She lifted the photograph. “The killer could’ve been inspired by this scene and recreated it, knowing it would point investigators to Henry.”
Emilia’s cell phone rang, interrupting their conversation. She rummaged in her purse and unearthed it. “Sanchez.”
A woman’s voice poured out. Bennett couldn’t make out the words, but her tone was frantic.
Emilia put the call on speaker. “Where are you, Jackie?”
Henry’s wife. Bennett instinctively slowed the vehicle, so he could listen to the call.
“We’re at my house.” Jackie’s voice was thick, as if she’d been crying. “Please, hurry. He’s going to kill me.”
“Who?” Emilia asked.
“I was so scared when you were at my house asking questions,” Jackie continued as if Emilia hadn’t spoken. “I couldn't tell you the truth. Please, hurry. He’s mad and I’m terrified.”
Bennett pushed on the gas again. He held up his hand, showing Emilia five fingers to indicate they would arrive at Henry’s house within five minutes.
“We’re on our way there right now,” Emilia said to Jackie. “How did you get back to your house?”
“Henry took the back roads. He’s upset the police are looking for us.” Jackie inhaled and then her breathing became frantic. The sound of banging came over the line. “Oh, no. Please…”
“Jackie, what’s happening?”
“He’s going to kill me. He’s—” Jackie screamed.
It was the sound of pure instinctive terror.
Bennett’s heart jumped into overdrive. He pushed the gas down, and his truck surged forward. Windshield wipers swiped at the water pouring on the truck but did little to clear the glass. The thunderstorm was in full force.
Emilia called in to dispatch. Backup was ten minutes behind them.
Ten minutes. So much could happen in that time.
The country road leading to Henry’s house appeared. Bennett barely tapped the brakes as he took the turn. Emilia whispered a prayer and gripped the roll bar. Her cell phone rattled in the cup holder.
The bridge appeared. Faint and distorted in the rain. Bennett flipped on his brights to warn oncoming drivers. The beams arced across