Chapter Fourteen #2
Mason saw that Sedwick was forty-two at the time and worked as a gardener for Stuart Reston, whom Mason had done some off-duty security work for himself from time to time for extra pay outside of police work.
Looking deeper at his notes, he noted that Sedwick had been seen with Lynda in his Ford F-150 pickup days before she was killed.
He claimed he was only giving her a lift as a friend.
Sedwick’s solid alibi for Lynda’s death was that he was working with other volunteers all night on Founder’s Day preparations.
Many vouched for him. Moreover, Stuart Reston backed Sedwick as a hard worker with not a bad bone in his body.
Given Stuart’s stature in the town that bore his family’s surname, this carried a lot of weight in looking elsewhere beyond Sedwick—who had no criminal record—for a killer.
But now Mason found himself revisiting the former gardener as a possible suspect in Lynda’s death. Was his relationship with Lynda truly only platonic in nature? Or was there something more to it, such as sexual, at a time when Sedwick was divorced and lived alone?
As Hopper got up and made his way over to him, Mason couldn’t help but think that, as a gardener, Sidney Sedwick may have had access to the poisonous rodenticide and insecticide, thallium sulfate, that Lynda died from.
Though the tasteless, odorless and colorless pesticide had been banned for decades at the time in the United States, it was still available and accessible in some other countries.
Could Sedwick have gotten his hands on some and used it on Lynda? Moreover, could he have graduated from thallium sulfate to fentanyl…and picked up where he left off in lethal poisonings of women in Reston Hills?
Mason chewed on these disturbing thoughts.
* * *
CAMPBELL SAT ON a mesh-back side chair in Chief Gloria Schecter’s office as he briefed her on the latest—and no less disturbing—death to hit Reston Hills Park.
“This might be the work of a serial killer—possibly spanning two decades,” he told her, bothered by the prospect.
Seated at her desk, Gloria’s eyes widened behind her glasses. “Go on…”
Campbell sighed. “According to the autopsy findings, Jasmine Roxburgh’s death was caused by acute fentanyl intoxication—or a lethal overdose of fentanyl combined with carfentanil—the same as Mia O’Dell.
Both were found in the park naked—which, in and of itself is highly suspicious, even if they were under some delusional state from the effects of the fentanyl poisoning.
The fact that they were members of the Braison Family—much like Lynda Boxleitner, who, as you know, had no clothes on when she died at the same location twenty years ago, albeit from thallium sulfate poisoning—suggests that the deaths are linked to the cult either by association or by someone who has it out for the followers… ”
“Hmm…” Gloria pursed her lips. “If it’s true that we’re dealing with a poisonous serial killer, then it would effectively exonerate Wendell Braison in the unsolved death of Boxleitner,” she threw out. “Am I right?”
Campbell considered this for a beat. “Yeah, that would seem to be the case—assuming we’re talking about the same killer of all three women…
” He paused. “It’s still possible that Braison killed Lynda Boxleitner and someone else—perhaps Kenneth Braison—has taken up the cause, ritual, retaliation or whatever in using fentanyl to kill Jasmine Roxburgh and Mia O’Dell.
We’re not ruling anything out at the moment,” he emphasized.
“Nor should you.” Gloria leaned forward and said, “Keep digging and see what you unearth. If these are serial homicides—especially two decades in the making—we may need to bring the FBI in on this investigation. Given our somewhat limited resources, any help would always be welcome.”
Maybe not always, Campbell thought, knowing the penchant the Bureau had to want to take the lead in any investigation they were involved in.
Still, he wasn’t so territorial that he would turn his back on their assistance, if offered.
But first, he wanted more clarity as to whether he was onto something about the serial killer angle.
Or if it was possible that Mia’s and Jasmine’s deaths were simply fatal drug overdoses that had landed them in the park—with the nudity merely a reflection of their affiliation with the Braison Family and being comfortable with no clothes on for the freedom it gave them.
* * *
IN HER STUDIO, Stefanie led the way in a Yin yoga class, which focused on stretching exercises, as part of the mind-body routines she offered.
The attendees, including two men, seemed all in with her instructions and were following her lead nicely.
Bella was there in her designer yoga wear, flashing a brilliant smile, and had no trouble keeping up.
Stefanie sucked in a measured breath. Frankly, she welcomed taking her attention away from the Braison Family and the mysterious deaths of their two followers.
At the same time, she wanted Campbell to figure it all out and—if he could prove that Kenneth Braison or anyone else was at the center of the fatal poisonings—put the mystery to rest. And presumably prevent any other cult members from dying due to a drug overdose.
She returned her thoughts to the yoga class, feeling good about having brought her skills and knowledge on this and tai chi to Reston Hills.
Maybe she could talk Campbell into attending one class or the other, even if he obviously needed no help whatsoever in the fitness department—in or out of bed.
It would still give them another opportunity to bond in her world, as a measure of spending time together for whatever the future might bring.
Beyond that, she imagined that he would even enjoy the classes, which were designed to be fun as much as healthy exercising.
It was also something that would give Campbell a probably much-needed breather of his own from the tricky world of law enforcement and the challenges that undoubtedly came with the territory.