Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
EVERETT
When I slip behind the wheel, I send Zach a quick text.
69 @ the truck scale on HWY5?
He replies almost instantly.
Be there in 10
The old truck scale is just past the last service station west of town. The scale building has been boarded up for decades and the concrete is cracked and sun-bleached, with tumbleweeds trapped in the ancient barbed-wire fencing. It’s useful as a turnaround or a place to run speed checks, and when Marin went missing, it doubled as Search and Rescue’s HQ.
When I pull in, I don’t have to wait long. Zach turns in facing the opposite direction and lowers his window. I do the same, and the scents of sage and freshly turned earth fill my cab.
Zach raises an eyebrow. “What’s up?”
“Special Agent Ballard paid us a visit this morning. ”
Zach’s look turns wary. “Okay.”
I give him the summary and the level of secrecy we’re expected to keep regarding a possible new murder victim linked to Marin and Michelle.
“Shit,” Zach says with a heavy sigh. He runs a hand through his hair. “If he’s right… my god.”
I rest the back of my head against my seat and run my thumb along the steering wheel. “Yeah.”
“A part of me still hoped our murderer was already behind bars,” he says.
I ball my fist and tap it on my windowsill. “You’re not alone.”
He nods, but his face is grim. “Fisher’s case got wrapped so fast, though. We didn’t really get a chance to connect all the dots.”
“Maybe now we’ll have that opportunity.”
Zach huffs a tight sigh. “I want to know if he tampers with their cars. Gets them stranded, then pretends to help them.”
“Like what happened to Ava?”
He nods.
Ava’s stalker admitted to putting sugar into her gas tank, which caused her car to break down, making her vulnerable. Marin’s car had been low on gas but it started when we released it to her family. They gave the car to a charity auction soon after.
“What about Michelle’s car?” Zach asks.
Zach was only a few months into his career in law enforcement back then so he didn’t work her case. “Her car was never found.”
It was one of the reasons our investigation stalled early on. Without her vehicle, we couldn’t discount that Michelle took off on her own accord. Then she failed to show up for work on Monday morning.
Zach nods, a grim expression on his face. “What about the others?”
“Nichole-Renée didn’t have a car.” Plenty of people in San Francisco don’t, so it made sense that a broke pharmacy grad student wouldn’t either. “Jane Beasley’s was found in the lot behind the tavern where she worked, but I don’t know if it was assessed for tampering.” That case hadn’t landed on the fed’s radar back then, so all we have is what the very limited-budget Humboldt Ridge department gathered.
“Meaning my question’s gonna go unanswered.”
“It’d be worth asking Ballard if a vehicle is connected to this new case.”
Zach grips his steering wheel and stares through his windshield. “If we find a necklace down in that mine…”
“You want the honors?” I ask, hating the hope in my voice. “You and Hutch can rappel down there. I’ll supervise from above.”
“Fuck that,” he says. “I gave up my backcountry ranger badge years ago, remember?”
“But you grew up in Alaska.”
He scoffs. “Doesn’t mean I know shit about rock climbing.”
Well, it was worth a try.
“Have you set it up yet?” Zach asks.
“Hutch said tomorrow. Before we get that big storm. That work for you?”
Zach nods and we say goodbye. He cruises to the exit and pulls onto the highway.
My cell rings, making my pulse jump, probably thanks to the looming visit to York Springs Mine.
The IDOC caller ID that pops up fills me with dread.
“To accept this collect call from”—the automated system pauses to allow the pre-recorded voice of my ex speaking her name to fill the gap—“press one.”
I think about declining, then hit 1. The social worker who helped me get full custody of Logan when he was thirteen months old made it clear that being firm and direct with Teresa was the best policy.
“Hello?” I say.
“Everett?” Teresa’s unnaturally chipper tone sets my teeth on edge. “Hi! How are you?”
“What do you want? I’m working. ”
“How’s Logan?”
There’s no way she’s really calling to ask about our son. “He’s great.”
“I haven’t seen him in so long. He’s probably getting tall like you, right? Can you send me a new picture?”
“Sure. Where?”
“Rock Creek. You need the address?”
“No.”
“Right, of course.” She gives a little laugh that’s so fake I wince. “I’d really love to see him. Maybe you could…?”
My chest pinches. I know what she’s doing, but a part of me hates making her suffer, even after what she’s put me through. What she did to Logan his first six months, before I even knew about him. I still have nightmares about walking back into that filthy, dilapidated house, frantically searching for my baby boy.
“What are you in for?” I ask.
“I got a bum rap,” she says with a huff.
“Teresa,” I warn.
She sighs again. “Possession. Solicitation.”
I take a slow scan of the barren highway and the distant Bitterroots, but it fails to calm my quickly fraying nerves. “I’m a cop, not a D.A., remember?”
“There’s a lawyer,” she blurts. “He helped my cellmate’s case get thrown out.”
“No.”
She scoffs. “Why won’t you help me? I’m Logan’s mother. I promised him I’d be there for his birthday.”
I clench my eyes shut, like it can make this conversation disappear. “You what?”
“I miss him.”
Unbelievable. “I told you to stop making promises you can’t keep.”
“It’s not my fault.”
“The fuck it is. ”
“Please, Everett. You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve had to endure in here.”
“Sorry prison isn’t meeting your expectations, but that’s sort of the point.”
“What if I have information?”
I rub the bridge of my nose. “What information?”
“I read the news. You put that guy away. The one that killed those women, only it was never proven, right?” She exhales a tight breath. “So, this girl in here. Cheryl. She was talking… she says it’s not him. That you got the wrong guy.”
A chill walks down my spine, but I shake it off. Teresa is full of shit. “Did you come up with that all on your own? I’d like to say I’m impressed but… hmm… no, I’m just not feeling it.”
“I’m not making it up.”
“Tell Cheryl to contact her lawyer.”
“Her lawyer won’t listen.”
“There’s probably a reason for that.”
“You’re such an asshole.”
“Yep.”
The line hums with a long silence. “I mean it this time, okay?” she finally says. “I want to be in Logan’s life, if it’s not too late.”
The skin at my neck pulls tight and my face starts to tingle. “Listen carefully, Teresa. I don’t know how you’re contacting him, but it stops now. Don’t write, don’t email and for fuck’s sake, don’t you dare call him collect. He’s better off without you. You’ve hurt him too many times. If you really love him, you’d stay out of his life.”
“Ugh!” she gasps. “Just because your parents didn’t want you doesn’t mean?—”
“Don’t you dare,” I interrupt. “You stop contacting him. Understood?”
I wait through a brief pause, then the line disconnects.
Awesome. She hung up.
I toss my phone on the passenger seat and step out of my SUV. Shaking out my arms, I inhale a full breath of the dry mountain air and drink in the sunshine on my face. Teresa is just desperate. Grasping at straws. First trying to be sweet and warm, then switching to some half-cocked story that she knew would rattle me, and when those both failed, she attacked, her toxic manipulation on full display.
Bringing up my biological parents and what happened that day was a low blow, even for Teresa. I shouldn’t be surprised, but it still stings.
I don’t have fully formed memories of what happened. Only that Linden made us hide in the dark space under the house with the cobwebs and spiders and the dry, hard dirt while our parents fought. I don’t know how long we were there, but I still remember the sheriff’s flashlight beam and his kind eyes when he found us. We never saw our parents again.
I huff a breath at the pale blue sky and tuck those memories back where they belong.
Then I make a plan to make sure Teresa stops contacting Logan. Before she can do any more damage.