Chapter 44
“Let’s get a handwriting expert to determine the authenticity of this,” the sheriff said after he read Wesley’s letter.
We had congregated in his office.
"The case needs to be reopened," I said.
"Once it's authenticated, I will take it to the state’s attorney."
“An innocent man sat in prison for 15 years. Now, someone is killing the people who put him there. And it's not Darrell.”
"You got any idea who it might be?”
I nodded. "Someone who doesn't want the truth getting out.
Wesley was about to come clean and rat everyone out involved.
I think the others were starting to get nervous.
Some of them may have been considering coming forward and cutting a deal.
If Wesley had done it first, it's likely he would have gotten immunity if he agreed to testify against the others.”
"Well, at this point, there are only two people it could be. I suggest you get on top of that ASAP."
"We're on it," I said.
“I’ll see if I can track down that boat. It’s been 15 years, but it’s worth a shot.”
We left his office and talked to Denise at her desk. She pulled background on Holden. He lived on the 26th floor of the Nautilus.
JD and I left the station and zipped across the island to the luxury high-rise.
Jack pulled up to the valet, and the kid grabbed his door.
JD slid a few bills into his palm, and we hurried to the door.
The concierge buzzed us in, and we headed up to the 26th floor.
Holden’s trust fund had taken care of him.
I rang the video doorbell and waited for a response.
Holden’s voice crackled through a moment later. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, you can. It’s Deputies Wild and Donovan. We’ve met before.”
“I know who you are. What do you want?”
“We got a lead in the case, and we think you might be able to help.”
Holden was silent for a moment. "Sure. Anything I can do to help law enforcement. I'll be right there."
The line crackled with static as he disconnected. Footsteps shuffled down the foyer a moment later. Holden flipped the deadbolt, then pulled open the door. His cautious eyes flicked between the two of us. "What can I do for you?"
I held a folded copy of Wesley's confession in my hand. I didn't play the card yet. "I know it was a long time ago, but I was wondering if you could walk me through the day that Sarah disappeared."
Holden's jaw tightened, and he swallowed. "I don't see what that matters now. They let that scumbag out of jail. It's not like you can put him back in, right?"
I chuckled. "No. That would be double jeopardy. You can't be tried twice for the same crime.”
Holden took a deep breath. "Well, let me see. I was out with my friends. We went to the marina that day. We took my father's boat out. That's when we saw Sarah aboard Darrell's boat."
"As you were leaving that afternoon?”
"Yeah."
"Do you recall who was with you?”
"Yeah. It was me, Wesley, Ian, Cameron, and Landon.”
"That's it. Nobody else."
"No.”
"What happened when you were out on the water?"
Holden shrugged. "I don't know. We just drank and had a good time."
"Are you sure Sarah wasn't with you?"
His face went stiff, and the color drained. "No. I just told you. The last time I saw Sarah, she was aboard Darrell's boat.”
"That’s interesting. That’s not what Wesley says.”
Holden's brow knitted with confusion. "Wesley is dead. He's not saying anything."
I handed him the copy. "It looks like he’s speaking from beyond the grave. It's funny how the dead have a habit of doing that sometimes."
Holden's eyes rounded as he began reading. He tried to contain his emotions, but a mix of rage and panic filled his eyes.
JD and I shared a look. Holden's involuntary reaction had confirmed everything Wesley had said. That alone didn’t mean anything in a court of law, but it was enough for me to know the truth.
The page fluttered in his hand as he neared the end.
The wheels turned behind his eyes. He stared at the page for a moment, trying to formulate his story.
Holden was quick on his feet, as most sociopaths are.
He had an answer for just about everything.
He handed the page back to me. "This is absolute nonsense.
Wesley has rotted his brain with drugs and alcohol over the last 15 years.
I don't know what he was trying to accomplish with this, but it's a complete fabrication. You can't take this seriously."
"Don't you find it odd that he sends this confession, then dies of an overdose a day later?"
"Proof that he was using and out of his mind. Wesley had mental issues. He suffered from depression for years. He was paranoid and had delusions. You can't possibly buy into this?"
“I think someone helped Wesley overdose. Someone who knew he was going to go to the cops. Someone who didn’t know about this letter.” I stared him down as my words hung in the air.
Holden swallowed hard.
I continued, “New evidence has come to light that corroborates Wesley's account."
Panic filled his face again. “What new evidence?”