Page 62 of Vengeance of Childhood Proportions (Till Death Do Us Part #7)

Chapter Fifty-Two

Mal

After getting ripped a new asshole by my boss’s boss’s boss, a cranky old bastard who was months away from retirement, I was back in Atelihai Valley.

I had a lot of respect for Delroy Carr, my own boss.

I thought he was a fair and stern leader who looked for the best and planned for the worst. I felt bad that he’d gotten an even bigger new asshole than I did for my failure to not apprehend the Atelihai Killer.

Short of having the Governor declare Martial Law over Atelihai Valley, I wasn’t sure what the higher-ups wanted me to do.

We already had increased surveillance, three different types of law enforcement patrolling the area, a mandatory curfew, and a checkpoint on and off the ferry.

To the best of my knowledge, the people of Atelihai Valley were not the ones in danger.

They were the audience, the ones being shown the error of their ways to not support a fifteen year old victim.

I understood that they were scared, that they were demanding answers, and that they had a right to feel safe in their own community.

I sympathized with them, but my empathy ended with parents not wanting their children to go to school or businesses feeling like they shouldn’t open for fear of the Atelihai Killer coming after them.

There was absolutely no evidence of a mindless assault on the town, a school shooting, or mass destruction.

Even the profiler from the BAU agreed with me that everything that was being done was strategic and methodical.

Additionally, they were working off of a very specific list.

I was ordered to Atelihai Valley for the foreseeable future, as if my very presence would scare off this killer from his agenda.

It had barely been a month since the first body had dropped and I felt like I’d aged a decade.

I could see everything. I knew exactly what had happened fifteen years ago, with two exceptions: how that worm of a principal had convinced so many people to turn their heads; and who was so close to Holly Marteen that they would avenge her so brutally.

Maybe staying in Atelihai Valley would do me some good, and I could actually get to the bottom of at least one of those questions.

I had to put my frustrations and broodiness into something productive.

My little owl was far away from Atelihai Valley and I was not satisfied with phone calls, text messages, and video chats.

I needed to feel her, smell her, taste her…

I shook off that morose feeling, the physical craving for my little owl. It was just bad timing that I’d finally found a woman who was perfect for me in every way at the exact same time that the highest profile case of my career was taking place.

Sharp wind blew into my face, but I ignored it, continuing my walk.

The constant mist did nothing to cool the rage inside of me.

I was devoted to this case, and I was so sick of people questioning my abilities as an investigator.

It was true that I was conflicted about whether the killer deserved cuffs or a medal, but that did not mean I was not still putting all of my efforts into solving this case.

I believed with every fiber of my being that answering those final two questions revolving around Holly Marteen’s attack fifteen years ago would solve this case.

Not that my boss’s boss’s boss wanted to hear about it. But that pompous douchebag could go get fucked with a cactus for all I cared. I’d even provide the lube.

My boots sloshed in the mud down the gravelly path splitting the largest of Atelihai Valley’s three cemeteries.

I’d finally been able to track down the records of where Holly Marteen was buried.

There hadn’t even been a service for her.

It was like her fucking parents had said “good riddance” when their daughter had died.

I was not saddened in the slightest that they were both likely murdered.

Since Alicia Cohen’s and Hannah Terwilliger’s bodies were discovered yesterday, things were getting…

tense. Mira was not banished to Atelihai Valley as I was.

Instead, she was back at headquarters in proverbial heaven.

Per my boss’s boss’s asshat of a boss, Mira would provide new eyes to the investigation.

She hadn’t even looked sad to see me go.

I wondered if my name was still on my office door or if the work order had gone through to change it.

Mira was a solid investigator, and up until this case, a good partner.

In fact, she was one of the better ones I’d had over the years, but her ambition was her one flaw that I just could not see past.

The fact that two bodies were staged in the same night was something new, and it made me wonder if there was a reason that both women had to die at the same time.

It also begged the question when each had been staged.

The Atelihai cop who’d been knocked unconscious had claimed two unsubs had attacked him, but unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to give descriptions or anything more.

It could mean that the killer had a helper—or it could mean that the cop was seeing double when he’d briefly opened his eyes while on the ground to see two of the same man walking away from him.

It was on my to do list to figure out while I was banished here.

As I turned the corner, I started counting the rows. When I came to the eighth, I stepped onto the grass and began counting headstones.

I wasn’t entirely sure why I was here. After getting booted from Juneau with barely enough time to pack, I felt like I should take advantage of my time in Atelihai Valley to pay my respects to the teenage girl who’d been dealt such a shit hand.

It was the fucking principal. Everything came back to him, but I had no motive outside of a fucking hockey game.

Who put the life and welfare of a teenage girl below a fucking hockey game ?

It wasn’t like the players had become anything important.

Not that that would excuse what they had done, but none of them had done anything with their lives to be known as exceptional human beings.

Even the four in police custody were just…average. Roman Fitzwilliam was the only one still classified as missing.

Alicia Cohen had been discovered yesterday in a boutique in town.

It would be a while before Dr. Robinson would be able to get to her autopsy, as she’d been sealed in a resin of some sort, permanently transformed into a living—or not so living—mannequin.

She’d even been dressed to match the other displays on the stage.

From the little Dr. Robinson had been able to determine, her stomach was distended outward, bloated by something, and she had paperwork shoved into her mouth, but the resin was sealed over that too.

Hannah Terwilliger was another story entirely—and her death might be exactly what I needed to dive a little deeper into Principal Hagley’s life.

The woman had been found in his driveway in his Fiat-500, her face tattooed to look like a clown.

When Mira had pointed out that staging Terwilliger’s body in such a fashion was a clear sign of harassing the principal, I’d barely been able to bite my tongue in time to keep from saying, “No shit.”

I stopped walking…and just stared.

The barre gray stone before me looked weather worn.

While fourteen years was not an extremely long time in comparison to the other stones that could be found in this place, Alaskan weather was harsh and constant.

Moss was prominent in the region. The cemetery as a whole did not look like it had a very attentive caretaker.

Weeds and grass were nearly up to my calves.

Half of Holly’s stone was covered in mildew and algae.

Squatting, I ran my hand over the cold slate to at least uncover her name.

Holly Taylor Marteen

12/3/1995 – 2/10/2011

Beloved Daughter

That was it. Beloved daughter . Such a lie. It pissed me off that her final resting place was tainted with such falsehood. She hadn’t been beloved . A beloved daughter would have been protected, cherished, and avenged.

She’d been failed. By so many people. Take away the cruelty of her attack, the public humiliation and the brutality of it, and the list of people who had failed her went far beyond the twelve adults on my window murder board.

I’d finally removed Jason Kadeer, the janitor who’d discovered her the morning after the attack, from the list. He didn’t fit the profile of the Atelihai Killer’s victims. He was a bystander and not someone of power or authority.

While one might be able to argue the same about the two EMTs who’d taken her to the hospital, it could be argued that those two had destroyed evidence since nothing had come of their report.

Kadeer had quit right after Holly’s suicide and had moved to the lower forty-eight.

When I’d spoken to Kadeer over video call, the old man had cried through the interview.

Kadeer’s only crime was discovering Holly and calling the ambulance.

If the killer found reason to go after him then no one in town was safe.

But the BAU profiler and I were in agreement that such did not fit the killer’s modus operandi .

Brushing away the last of the moss, I couldn’t help but wonder who Holly would be today. I’d found pictures of a shy little girl who loved to read, even at school assemblies. Who would she have become? What would she be doing today if her life hadn’t met such a horrible end?

The few friends she’d had in elementary school had drifted apart in middle and high school.

She was utterly alone by ninth grade. Our techs had discovered a few pictures of Holly in the background of other kids’ Facebook or MySpace pictures, eating alone in the cafeteria or reading in the hallway with her back up against a row of lockers.

None of her records showed any extracurriculars like band or choir or drama club.

I stood up, not entirely sure if it was proper for me to say something. I didn’t believe in any god or afterlife. I didn’t think she could hear me from the Great Beyond, but I felt like she deserved to know that there was at least one person in the world who was backing her.

Even if I was fourteen years too late.

I opened my mouth to say…I still wasn’t sure what, but something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye, halting my words.

Cocking my head, I reached into the tall grass beside Holly Marteen’s gravestone and picked up the mud-covered book.

It was old and sodden from exposure, but I could make out the title and author on the cover at least. East Lynne by Mrs. Henry Wood.

I didn’t recognize the title, but found the barely legible inscription on the inside intriguing to say the least. Someone had definitely been here, someone who knew Holly Marteen. Had they left this book here for Holly, or perhaps as a breadcrumb for me?

Holly,

I found this in the library discards and thought it was one you’d enjoy.

Mrs. P

I closed the book and thought hard. Who the fuck was Mrs. P.?