he’d claim. At weekly department meetings, Mullins habitually sat at the back, usually one foot up on the chair in front of him, and stared at me as if daring me to say something he could jump on. I tended to ignore him.
Despite all that, I didn’t want to lose him. While we weren’t the best of friends, Mullins was a pretty good cop. He did what he was told, if not with a smile. Our police force was small, and he had more experience than any of the other officers on my staff. Perhaps more importantly, Mullins had access. People talked to him because he was part of the old guard, a member in good standing with Elijah’s People, our reclusive town’s fundamentalist Mormon settlers. While I’d fled and disavowed its teachings, including the practice of polygamy, Jeff Mullins was a member in good standing. In Alber, that meant everything.
“Listen, Mullins,” I said. “Max and I need to know what’s happened here. Did Carl Shipley threaten you? Did he pull a gun on you?”
Mullins turned his head side to side while keeping his eyes trained on the travel trailer. “Carl refused to come out when I told him to, and that was enough,” Mullins finally said. “I know he killed my little girl. No doubt about it, but this proves it. If he didn’t kill her, he’d be out here jabbering away, answering all my questions.”
“Did you knock on the door and ask him to come out?” Max inquired.
At that, Mullins’ flush turned a raging red. “Nah, but I stood out here and shouted, told him to get his sorry ass out here and tell me why he killed my daughter.”
“Why are you so sure he killed Laurel and the others?” I asked. Mullins glared at me for a few moments and didn’t answer, so I pressed the issue. “Detective, you need to explain what the hell is going on here. And you need to do it now.”
At that, Mullins pulled his lips tight, furious. He looked at me, looked at the trailer, looked at me again. “Dammit, Chief,” he seethed. “There’s not an ounce of doubt in my mind that the piece of shit in that trailer murdered Laurel because she wouldn’t have him. Didn’t want anything to do with him. Even though he followed her around like a sick puppy dog.”
“And you know this because—”
“Laurel told me, the last time I talked to her, just a few days ago, that she was scared of Carl, that he was paying too much attention to her, always trying to get close to her,” Mullins said. “Now she’s dead. They’re all dead. My little baby, first grandson, dead. Jacob hurt bad, I heard.” Mullins pointed at the trailer, his finger trembling with rage. “And that man in there, he’s gonna pay for it. I promise you that.”
“Jeremy’s alive,” I said. Mullins stared at me like he didn’t believe me, so I went on. “One of my mothers, Naomi, was bringing something to the ranch for Laurel this morning. She found the bodies and called in the killings. Naomi has Jeremy at the ranch. She’s taking care of him while we sort this out.”
With that, Mullins took one step back from the squad car and let the rifle barrel drop. “I thought they said this monster murdered the children.”
“Benjamin and Sybille, but not Jeremy,” I said.
Mullins shook his head. “Those two beautiful kids, good kids. Anna was a wonderful woman. And my Laurel. My sweet, innocent Laurel.” He paused, choking up. “But Jeremy, you’re not lying to me, he’s okay?”
“In Naomi’s arms as we speak, most likely being cuddled and cooed to,” I said. “I promise you.”
That seemed to change things for Mullins. I figured he didn’t care what happened to him when he thought they were both dead, but now he had second thoughts. Maybe he saw there was something that made it worth not throwing his job away, something to fight for. “You going to stand back now and let us do our jobs the right way?” I asked.
Mullins agreed with a jerk of his head.
“I’m going to talk to Carl,” Max said. “Clara, cover me. You two stay here.”
“You be careful, Max,” Mullins growled, again pointing at the house. “That man… he’s a killer. Don’t trust him.”
Max gave Mullins a sympathetic look, and then took a few steps out into the open, walking around Mullins’ squad toward the trailer. “Carl Shipley, can you hear me?” he shouted. “This