Chapter 32
Tyler
Tyler couldn’t take his eyes off Brooke. She sat close to him on Joe’s couch, her hand in his. Every time their eyes met, his chest tightened with something he couldn’t name.
She loved him. She had said it out loud, in front of Joe, without hesitation.
And he loved her back, more fiercely than he had realized he could.
“All right,” Joe said, appearing from the kitchen with three bottles of water. “I’ve got burgers ready to grill. We can eat first, if you want, or go over everything first. Your call.”
Tyler glanced at Brooke. “What do you think?”
“It’s nice out,” she said. “Maybe we could sit on the patio? You could grill while we talk?”
“Works for me.” Joe headed back to the kitchen. “Tyler, can you help me carry things out?”
They moved food and drinks to Joe’s small patio. The evening air was cooling down. Joe fired up the grill while Tyler set plates and condiments on the table.
“Phil should be here any minute.” Joe gestured toward the slider. It was open with the screen in place. “We’ll hear when he gets here.”
“I would’ve thought he’d be here by now,” Brooke said, checking her watch.
“Maybe something came up?” Tyler suggested.
“He would’ve called,” Joe said. “He’s probably— ”
A knock at the door interrupted him. Joe looked at Tyler. “And there we go. Mind grabbing the door?”
Tyler walked back through the house and opened the door. Phil stood there, but his usual easy smile was gone, replaced by a tight, concerned expression.
“What’s wrong?” Tyler asked.
Phil held up a piece of paper. “Pulled up behind your truck. When I was walking by, I saw this stuck under the windshield wiper.”
Tyler’s stomach dropped. He took the paper, his hands already shaking.
Generic printer paper. Same as before. But the message was different.
Two threats neutralized. All your fault! You made this necessary!!
“You found this on my windshield?” Tyler managed.
“Yep. I parked, walked by, and there it was.”
Tyler rushed past Phil out into the street. His truck sat at the curb, exactly where he’d left it twenty minutes ago. He scanned the street in both directions. There were a few parked cars and an elderly woman walking a dog down the block. Nothing suspicious. No one watching.
“Did you see anyone?” Tyler called back to Phil.
“No, sorry.”
Tyler stared at the paper in his hand. Two threats neutralized. Sheila and Monique. All your fault! You made this necessary!!
The murderer blamed him, but he still didn’t know why.
His chest went tight. Brooke. If the killer thought she was another threat . . .
He jogged back inside. Brooke and Joe were already in the living room, Phil explaining what he’d found.
“Let me see it,” Joe said.
Tyler handed over the note.
Joe studied it, his journalist brain already working. “Does it say the same thing as the last note?”
“Same kind of vibe,” Tyler said. “Different words.”
“What’s ‘threats neutralized’ mean?” Brooke asked, reading over Joe’s shoulder. “I mean, obviously they’re talking about Sheila and Monique. But that’s a weird way to phrase it.”
“Yeah.” Joe frowned. “It’s odd. And familiar somehow.”
“We should call it in,” Tyler said. “Tell Boverman— ”
“No.” Brooke’s voice was sharp. “Adam has his own agenda. We can’t trust him with this.”
Tyler sighed. She was right, but Adam was still law enforcement. “He probably should know, though.”
“I think Brooke’s right,” Phil said. “Boverman’s been after you since the fire. He’s not going to investigate this objectively.”
“Then we call Edi. I gave her the first note.”
“I thought Edi was persona non grata,” Phil said. “Ordered off the case.”
“She was, but this is different.”
“Is it?”
Joe was still staring at the note. “Let’s eat first and talk through everything. Then we can decide about calling someone.” He motioned toward the patio. “Come on. I need to flip the burgers.”
Joe took care of the burgers while Tyler, Brooke, and Phil settled in at the small table. Joe had brought out a folder of printouts—articles, timelines, and notes from his investigation.
“Start with the basics,” Joe said, transferring burgers to a plate.
“Both victims lived here for years. Sheila moved to Casper for a short time for college and an ill-fated marriage, but came back. Monique never left. She started working at her aunt’s craft store in high school.
She had a few other jobs, too, when the store was too slow to give her full-time hours. ”
“They were good friends,” Phil added. “I remember them from high school, though they were a couple of years behind us. They were popular with the boys.”
“With the boys,” Brooke repeated, shaking her head.
“What? They were. They went out of their way to be friendly. It’s not much of a surprise, and it didn’t end with high school. When Sheila returned to Irma from Casper, she was on the prowl. Went to the bars. Drank too much. Went home with whoever. She had a reputation.”
Tyler knew Phil was right. He’d heard plenty since Sheila’s death. Monique, too, though it seemed she’d slowed down on dating and drinking in recent years.
“And both women were considered troublemakers of sorts,” Joe added.
“Mean girls,” Brooke said. “In high school, at least. Phil said they went out of their way to torment those who were less popular or underclassmen.”
“Does that matter?” Tyler asked. “I mean, it was high school.”
“Boverman’s entire theory of why you killed Sheila hinges on you two dating in high school,” Brooke said, serving herself some salad. “If Adam can say that matters, I can say that being mean girls matters.”
“Don’t forget there’s a rumor floating around that Tyler dated Monique.” Phil laughed.
“Don’t remind me.” Tyler shook his head. “Wish I knew who was saying that. Monique and I barely ever even spoke.”
“There’s something else we need to consider,” Phil added. “They were both dumped in the woods.”
“Beartooth Mountains,” Brooke said softly.
“Right. Found in remote locations, dumped after death.” Joe brought the burgers to the table and sat down. “The killer knows the area. Knows how to hide bodies. Has physical strength.”
Tyler reached for a burger. His appetite was gone, but he knew he needed to eat. “That describes half the county.”
“But not half the county has a connection to both victims.” Joe pulled out a timeline.
“Look at this. Sheila died sometime Friday night or early Saturday. Tyler has an alibi until about ten o’clock—darts with witnesses.
But after that, nothing until meeting Robert and Sue at eight the next morning. ”
“I was home,” Tyler said. “Alone.”
“I believe you, but from an investigator’s perspective, that’s a gap.” Joe turned to another page. “Monique died between Friday night and Saturday morning, just like Sheila. Only this time, Tyler has no alibi at all. He was home alone the entire evening.”
“My dart buddies were at elk camp,” Tyler explained to Phil. “Brooke went out with Steph.”
Brooke squeezed Tyler’s hand. “We’ve been over this. The alibis are weak, but it doesn’t mean anything.”
“No,” Joe agreed. “But it makes him look guilty. Which is exactly what someone wants.”
“Both of them were killed on a Friday night or a Saturday morning?” Phil said. “And found on Sunday? That sounds like a pattern.”
“It is,” Joe agreed. “But we don’t know what that pattern means.”
“Whoever did it was off during that time?” Phil suggested.
“Off?” Brooke said. “Off work?”
“Right,” he agreed with a nod.
“Not a stretch,” Joe said. “Weekends off are common.”
Tyler knew Joe was right, but it was interesting that both women were killed in the same timeframe. And he didn’t have an alibi for either time.
They ate while going through the file—articles about the murders, timelines Joe had constructed, lists of people connected to both victims.
Joe was reaching for his burger when he stopped midmotion. “That’s it!”
“What’s it?” Tyler asked.
“Can I see the note again? The one Phil just found on your windshield.”
Tyler pulled it out of the folder and handed it to Joe.
Joe nodded as he read it. “The wording. ‘Threats neutralized.’ That’s not how regular people talk. That’s law enforcement. Military.” Joe picked up the note again. “Civilians don’t say ‘neutralized.’ They say killed. Murdered. Something direct.”
Ice slid down Tyler’s spine. “You think this is from a cop?”
“Or someone with military training. But given the context— ” Joe looked around the table.
“Adam,” Tyler said immediately. “He’s been obsessed with proving I’m guilty since the fire.”
“But Adam’s been vocal,” Brooke pointed out. “He arrested you in front of half the town. He shows up everywhere you go. Why would he send anonymous notes?”
“To scare me. To make me leave town.”
“Because he’s a psycho.” Phil leaned back in his chair. “An obsessed psycho. He’s been after you since Jen died, Tyler. You know it. I know it. Everyone does.”
“Boverman writing the note makes sense,” Joe said, tapping the word neutralized with his finger. “Not only is he with the sheriff’s department, but he was in the Army before that.”
“He was in the Army?” Brooke asked, her eyes wide. “And this is like an Army phrase?”
Joe shrugged. “Some military would use the phrase. Adam was an MP, so it fits.”
“Military Police. I guess that makes sense.” Brooke shook her head. “You think he’d kill two women just to frame Tyler for it because . . . because what? He thinks Tyler killed Jen and Garrett? That seems a little extreme.”
“I told you, he’s a psycho,” Phil muttered.
“Is he, though?” Tyler asked. “I agree he’s obsessed with me. And I could maybe see him planting evidence and framing me. But add in the murder of two women as part of that frame job, and it seems like Brooke said. Extreme.”