Page 43 of Darkwater Lane (Stillhouse Lake #7)

“We’ll run DNA to confirm, but that’s our working theory.” He pauses for a second. “You came to that conclusion awfully quickly. Took our lab a couple of hours to hunt down old prison X-rays. Care to explain how you figured it out so fast?”

Because it’s the only answer that makes sense. Who else could it be? This is a message. Just like the bones at the sickos’ murders.

This time, the message feels more personal. It’s not just a bone, but most of Melvin’s entire fucking body.

“You found one of Melvin’s bones on Varrus, didn’t you?” His death has to be connected. There’s no way it’s not.

If he’s surprised by the question, he doesn’t show it. “We did. Shoved down his throat. Likely before he died, according to the autopsy report.”

I press a hand to my neck, trying not to imagine what that must have been like for him. He may have been a despicable man at the end of his life, but that doesn’t mean he should have been tortured before being killed.

“And I’m guessing you already know about the other murders too, Detective.” There’s no way they wouldn’t have connected all the dots. Not once they realized it was Melvin’s remains in the house. That would have flagged the FBI, and their involvement would have pulled all the pieces together.

“You know someone has been using Melvin’s bones as calling cards,” I continue. “It’s the same thing here.”

“Or it’s where you and Sam stashed the body.”

I laugh incredulously. “You were at our house the night of the murder. You had a warrant. You tore the place apart. If Melvin’s bones had been there, you’d have found them.”

“Unless you hid them well.”

I shake my head. How in the hell am I supposed to prove a negative?

“Let me be exceedingly clear, Detective. I despise my ex-husband with every fiber of my being. I was the one to put a bullet in his head, and I’d do it again without hesitation.

That man ruined my life, my kids’ lives, his victims’ lives, and their families’ lives.

He’s a monster. I won’t even allow a photo of him in my house, much less his fucking dead body! ”

I’m nearly shouting by the end, and I heave in a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. People in authority don’t tend to take kindly to angry women, especially those who yell. Even if what they’re yelling about is the truth.

“I understand your position, Ms. Proctor, I really do. But we have to follow the evidence. If you want to help yourself out, I’ll need you to go ahead and send me your alibis for your time since leaving town. It would be helpful if you could get Mr. Cade to do the same.”

I swallow a curse. I’ve really been hoping the FBI would take over the case before the locals could dig their teeth in. I need to buy us time. “Like I said, I’ll have to discuss that with my lawyer.”

“Ms. Proctor, I know you may not believe me, but the system works more often than it doesn’t. If you truly have nothing to do with this, then cooperating will only clear you that much faster. ”

I appreciate what Gutierrez is saying, and I really do think his heart is in the right place.

But he’s incredibly ignorant if he actually believes that.

The criminal justice system was built to benefit some individuals over others, and it does an excellent job of reinforcing those delineations.

“Tell that to all the wrongfully convicted sitting in jail cells.”

“You don’t have to protect him, you know,” Gutierrez says. His voice has softened.

I frown. “Protect who?”

“Sam. I know he’s your partner, and I’m sure you love him, but you already made that mistake once, Ms. Proctor.”

The audacity of this man! Rage ignites inside me. “I’m not protecting anyone. I’m telling the truth,” I bite out. “And the longer you focus on Sam, the farther behind you’re getting in finding the real killer. More people will die because of that. You understand?”

“Is that a threat?”

The question leaves me speechless. I don’t even bother to say goodbye before hanging up. I miss the old days when I could have slammed the receiver down. Instead, I ball my hands into fists and growl.

“Mom?”

I spin to find Lanny standing there. She’s got her arms wrapped around herself like she’s fending off the cold. Which makes me think she’s been out here for a while. I try to replay the conversation in my head to figure out how much she may have heard.

“Are you in trouble?” she asks. Not half an hour ago, I was marveling at how quickly my daughter was growing up. How capable she was becoming. Now, I’m reminded that, in some ways, she’s still a kid.

“No,” I tell her.

“Is Sam?”

There’s a split second of hesitation before I give the same answer .

She presses her lips together. I can see her thoughts warring. She wants to believe me, just like she wanted to believe that Santa was real, and the Easter Bunny left candy every year. But some part of her knows it’s more complicated.

She’s debating whether to ask more. I don’t realize I’m shaking my head until I see her shift, taking a slight step back.

“Okay. Well, Connor’s finished. They’re just talking through his work schedule now.

He asked me to come get you since someone will have to drive him to his shifts until he gets his license. ”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” I tell her. I need a moment to compose myself and let the adrenaline make its way through my system.

She starts back inside but hesitates at the door. “It’s going to be okay, isn’t it, Mom?”

She’s talking about Sam and what she overheard. I plaster my most reassuring smile on my face. “Yes.” I say it with as much conviction as possible. How many years have I done this—kept the worst from them? Maybe it was the right thing to do then, but I’m not so sure it is anymore.

Not if Lanny will be out on her own soon. She deserves the truth—or at least the best truth I can give her. “Actually, honey, I don’t know,” I amend.

She recognizes the shift—that I’m letting her see more than before. “Oh.”

“But we’re going to fight like hell, just like we always do,” I assure her.

She gives me a whisper of a smile and nods. Then, she disappears into the barn.

I stay outside, tucking my hands under my arms against the cold.

The afternoon sky is fading, the shadows across the valley shifting and lengthening.

I mentally run through our every move since coming to Stillhouse Lake.

All the days Sam was up early and home late.

I hate that this is where my thoughts lead me, wondering if it’s possible that one of those days he could have snuck down to Knoxville.

And what? Planted what amounts to a bomb in our old rental? Then left Melvin’s body there as evidence?

It’s beyond preposterous.

So, why did I hesitate earlier when Lanny asked about Sam? Why does my stomach twist anytime more information about the various crimes comes to light? Why does it feel like I’m walking around, waiting for a bomb to drop?

Because someone is setting Sam up.

But what if they’re not? What if it’s really him?

I’d be an idiot not to consider the possibility. Only someone who lacks conviction in the strength of their own argument refuses to hear the opposition.

It’s not just the flights that match up to the Sicko Patrol murders, it’s the secrecy. He planned to meet with Leo and didn’t tell me. He lied to me about that. What else might he have lied about?

What will you do if it is him ?

That’s the question that truly terrifies me, because I don’t know.

What I do know is that it’s time Sam and I talked and laid our cards on the table.