there,” he said, pointing to the city car he’d driven. “Make sure it gets back to the homicide building?”
“Sure, sir. Will do.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it.”
Thirty seconds later, Reed was pulling out of the cemetery, Ransom in the passenger seat.
Ransom pulled out his phone and Reed heard his sergeant’s barked hello over the line. Ransom filled him in on what they’d discovered at the scene and where they were headed.
“Okay, yeah, we’ll wait,” Ransom said. He responded to a few more barked orders Reed couldn’t make out and then disconnected the call.
“He wants us to wait for some uniforms. He’s sending them from District Two now. Hopefully we’ll arrive about the same time.”
“I need to tell you about the call I made on the way to the scene too. It involves Everett Draper as well.” He told Ransom quickly about Liza’s weekend at Camp Joy and how she’d told him Everett Draper was there with her.
“You’re kidding. Why didn’t she tell us this sooner?”
“Why would she? She had no idea Everett Draper’s name had even come up in the case. And she didn’t have any personal knowledge of him in recent years.”
“All right. But still. What does some camp have to do with any of this?”
“I’m not sure, but something. I called there on the way to the scene. The admin director’s supposed to call me back, but I spoke to a man who said that in all likelihood a group like the one Liza and Everett would have been a part of, would have stayed in a cabin named Buckeye.”
Ransom stared over at him for a moment. “Well, fuck me sideways.”
Reed’s phone rang, showing a similar number to the one he’d dialed earlier. “This is Camp Joy calling now,” he told Ransom. “Detective Davies.”
“Hello, Detective. This is Barbara Guthier with Camp Joy returning your call.”
“Thank you for getting back to me, Ms. Guthier. I’m not sure how much the man I spoke with earlier told you, but I’m looking for information dating back fifteen years.”
“Yes, Zeek told me exactly what you needed. The names of campers who stayed in Buckeye for the weekend as part of a state-run program for kids who’d recently experienced upheaval in their home?”
“Yes. That would be it. I’m not sure of the month, but a teenager named Elizabeth Nolan would have been in the cabin in question.”
“Okay, well that’s helpful. Hold on just a second.” He heard her flipping through papers and after a moment, she came back on the line, “Here we go. Elizabeth Nolan, age thirteen. That was in June.”
“Can you tell me who else was in that cabin with her?”
“I sure can. There were five campers in Buckeye that weekend along with Elizabeth Nolan. Milo Whiting, Sabrina Attenburrow, Everett Draper, and Axel Draper.”
That buzzing noise that had been steadily growing in Reed’s brain since he’d recognized Gordon Draper grew louder now. He knew all those names except one. Axel Draper. Draper.
Everett’s brother?
Reed’s head throbbed. The picture. He’d looked right past him when Gordon Draper had pointed out his grandson’s picture because they’d been discussing Everett. But Reed remembered now.
There had been two boys in the photo.
“I really appreciate the information,” he managed. “If I have any other questions, can I call you directly?”
“Absolutely, Detective. I’m calling from my office number. Feel free to use it should you need anything else.”
He mumbled a thanks and hung up the phone, staring wordlessly ahead at the road disappearing under his car for a moment.
“The other campers,” Reed said. “They were Milo Whiting.”
“Milo Ortiz,” Ransom said. “He took his sister’s husband’s name later. Holy shit. Okay.”
“Sabrina Attenburrow.”
“Sabrina McPhee.”
“Yup. She was married. Attenburrow’s gotta be her maiden name.”
“Everett Draper and Axel Draper.”
Ransom paused. “Axel Draper. His brother.”
“Yes,” Reed said. “Yes. Gordon Draper took both his grandsons in after their parents died in a house fire. They must have both been sent to that camp as a reprieve of sorts between experiencing the loss of their parents and relocating to their grandfather’s home.”
Ransom stared ahead for a moment. “Five of them, you said?”
“Yeah,” Reed answered.
Five angels mistakenly sent to hell.
He looked at Ransom. “They’re the main characters. The angels born in hell.”
Ransom ran a hand over his short-cropped hair. “All right, okay so . . . Axel’s one of them? And these bodies . . . is he leaving them as . . .”
“Gifts,” Reed said. “He’s leaving them as gifts.”
“Goddamn,” Ransom said. “He’s our guy, isn’t he?”
Reed’s heart was pounding. “I think so. I think so, yes.” But