Chapter 7 #2
In the sitting room of the Thomases’ cabin, a comfortable three-bedroom home set a mile off the main road, Emma held Mrs. T while Mr. T paced and shook his head.
Daniel had delivered tragic news only a handful of times.
But every time was difficult in a different way.
No reaction mirrored another. Grief and anger bubbled up to the surface.
The Thomases’ shock was palpable. “Sir, please. We need to know about the last few days. Where was Owen? What was he up to? Any odd conversations you had with him? Anyone calling at night?”
“He had no enemies,” Mrs. T said, her voice shaky and thick from her tears. “He lit up a room.”
Emma met Daniel’s gaze, biting her lip.
They had an unspoken agreement not to dissuade the parents from their view of their only child.
Owen was a skulker, lingering on the fringe of any group.
Liz had brought him out of the darkness and into the light, seeing a kindness in him.
But then she was gone, and he hid away, obsessing about her.
“I don’t know. Nothing stands out.” Mr. T tugged on his thinning hair. “Just normal stuff. Helping around the camp. Handyman stuff. He worked on cabin three in particular.”
Where was he the night of the accident? Daniel couldn’t push for an interview now or they’d shut down and never answer his question. Nor could he get into Owen’s room upstairs, where Daniel suspected he’d find more information than he could possibly process.
“He was a good boy,” Mrs. T murmured. “He kept to himself. He had no enemies.”
The car accident could have been explained away but not the gunshots.
Someone coming into his hospital room to shoot him pointblank was targeted.
The case turned into a conspiracy. Whether the Thomases were aware—or wanted to admit it—or not, Owen had secrets that ultimately took his life.
Unless Daniel learned exactly what so he could figure out the who, the killer would remain at large.
“Who called you to tell you about the problem with the power?” Emma asked softly.
“I…I can’t…” Mr. T stammered. “I didn’t ask for a name. A female?”
The camp was swarmed with women. Daniel frowned.
He had to consider the real possibility of two culprits although he still felt certain it was all the work of one person.
“I vow to you both that I will seek justice for Owen. We will find whoever committed this horrible act, and they will answer for their terrible crime,” Daniel said, shifting his gaze to both parents in turn.
He’d failed Emma and now was at risk of doing so to the Thomases.
He lived through a nightmare but would find a way out for all of them. “You will not walk alone through this.”
Mrs. T took in a gulping breath. “Thank you, dear. Thank you both. We need a little time.” She rose, breaking away from Emma and standing by her husband, gripping his arm.
Daniel nodded. “Of course. I’ll be staying to keep an eye on things.”
Mr. T snorted. “Much good that did my son.”
“Honey,” Mrs. T berated. “Not helpful.”
“Owen was fine. He was talking, and now he’s gone,” Mr. T croaked. A sob shook free and took over the grieving father.
“We don’t know what to think,” Mrs. T whispered.
“I know,” Daniel murmured. “You’re not wrong. I let you down. I will get justice.” He crossed the room and opened the door.
Emma stood and strode outside.
He turned back and nodded at the grieving parents before seeing himself out. As the door shut, cries poured out from under the door and across the covered porch. With a heavy heart, Daniel jogged down the front steps, putting space between himself and the Thomases’ pain.
Emma raced to catch up. “Hey, they didn’t mean that.” She reached for his arm, pulling him to slow before looping her arm through.
“Yes, they did. And it’s okay,” Daniel replied, each word weightier than the last. “I failed them and Owen.” He stopped in his tracks. And you tickled his tongue. As a teen, he hadn’t been enough. As an adult, he wouldn’t let her down. “The stakes are life and death. No room for accidents.”
She rubbed his arm. She might have meant the gesture as comfort, but the stroke recalled their youth.
He’d been taken by her since the first day of school but had never told her so outright.
The Lynde twins didn’t date. While daring Liz might have pushed the boundaries, dutiful Emma wouldn’t dream of giving her parents even a second’s worry.
He’d sent her a valentine once but had been too scared to sign it.
He never asked if she knew who it was from, and now, he wouldn’t even try to broach the subject.
She’d lost so much. He hated that he’d been one more thing shoved aside.
In silence, they started the trek toward the cabins, a descent on a gravel road easier on foot than vehicle.
When he had parked at the mess hall and asked her to hike up to the Thomases’ home, he hadn’t had an argument about the mile distance.
He didn’t feel comfortable in a bulky vehicle when navigating heights.
He trusted his own body and not an SUV to stay grounded.
“Do you still think they might have had something to do with it?” she whispered.
“I never did. But we can’t be sure they haven’t been in contact with someone without realizing it.” Same applied to everyone at the camp. “Owen’s secrets died with him.”
“Does that means the worst is over?” she asked, shivering. “I can’t imagine what will happen if the trouble has only begun. How much worse will things get?”
Whoever was at the hospital acted alone and sloppy, missing the shot at her.
Frank would gather any evidence left behind but identifying the suspect via fingerprints or trace DNA finding wasn’t always a sure thing.
The assailant might not have a criminal record.
The case demanded old-fashioned detective work, too.
Daniel puzzled over the note and the phone call about the power.
Was it indicative of collaboration? Who placed the call?