Chapter 23
Brooklyn Sloane
Brook cranked the heater to its highest setting, positioning the vents toward her cold fingers as she sat in the SUV outside the convenience store.
The revelation about Henry Quinn had shifted the investigation's landscape, though she wasn’t certain it was the center of their case.
As Principal Watkins had pointed out several times, the man had been in a wheelchair since his sophomore year of high school.
“Tyler refuses to even entertain the idea of us speaking with Henry,” Theo confirmed, his voice drifting through the speakers of the SUV. “He even threatened to sue the county for harassment.”
Brook curled her fingers in front of the vent. She had monitored Bit’s progress through the snack aisles, and he was now making his way to the register.
“I’ll contact Tyler's lawyer. Maybe he can phrase our request in such a way that it appears we're not investigating Henry's relationship with Loretta Whitlow, but instead, seeking his insights as someone who might have observed classroom dynamics from a unique perspective.”
“I’m not so sure Tyler is going to fall for that, but it’s worth a shot.”
“Bit made an interesting discovery on the drive from Crescent Ridge to Harrowick. Henry converted Tyler's garage into an electronics workshop, and it apparently is quite sophisticated from what could be gathered through social media photographs and building permit applications.”
“Are you thinking of sending Bit in as a customer?”
“Not unless we have to,” Brook replied as she gave Bit a thumbs-up.
He had set his load of snacks on the counter before proceeding to the beverage area.
He was holding up a large to-go cup, and she wouldn’t turn down the English Toffee Cappuccino out of the machine.
There had been something off with the chili from the diner, and she’d been secretly hoping that she wouldn’t get food poisoning.
So far, so good. “Principal Watkins shared that Loretta Whitlow visited Henry regularly during his six-month hospital stay after the accident. She arranged for classmates to record messages, collected assignments, and personally tutored him. All approved by the administration, of course. And according to Watkins, Henry passed high school because of her intervention.”
“I still can’t fathom Henry being able to kill four women in four different towns while being bound to a wheelchair.
” Theo paused to speak to Sylvie before returning to their conversation.
“Listen, Grady Brisker's place is about twenty miles east of here. Since we’re already out this way, we’re going to swing by and talk to him. ”
“You should pick up some Chinese food on the way back.”
“I take it that request came from Bit?”
“Actually, no. But I have no doubt he'll be pleased by the development. I'm sure he'll have room for dinner despite the mountain of junk food he's currently purchasing.”
“That man's metabolism is a scientific marvel,” Theo commented right before Brook caught the sound of Sylvie’s laugh. “We'll handle dinner. See you back at the cabins.”
The sound of a loud truck engine had Brook glancing in her rearview mirror. A black F150 with tinted windows had pulled up to the pumps, though the owner didn’t get out immediately. Instead, the driver allowed the engine to idle.
Her phone vibrated against the center console before the Bluetooth sounded through the speakers. She glanced at the display to find it illuminating an unfamiliar number. Her heart rate stuttered when her mind registered the 309 area code.
Morton, Illinois.
Her hometown.
A call from Morton mere hours after Bit's system had flagged a potential Jacob sighting in D.C. was too coincidental. Still, she reminded herself that the individual hadn’t been Jacob.
And he certainly wouldn’t be phoning her on a Friday evening.
She hovered her index finger over the screen for two full seconds before she finally accepted the call.
“Sloane,” she answered in a neutral tone.
The line remained silent for a moment, as if the caller hadn't expected such an abrupt greeting. She detected uneven breathing and background noise, suggesting a public space, perhaps a restaurant or bar. She moved her left hand from the vent as she shifted in her seat.
“Brook? It's Scott. Scotty Nevin.”
The tension in her shoulders didn't dissolve at the sound of the somewhat familiar voice. Instead, it transformed into something different. She hadn't spoken to Scotty in years. He wouldn’t be calling her unless it had to do with her brother.
“Scotty,” Brook acknowledged, modifying her tone to disguise any surprise. “I didn't recognize the number.”
“Yeah, I'm using my mom's phone,” Scotty explained. “Let’s just say that mine took a swim in the Gulf of Mexico, and leave it at that. Anyway, I just got back from a six-month stint on an oil rig.”
“I’m sure your family is glad to see you.” Brook continued to observe Bit through the windshield. He was having a very animated conversation with the cashier. “I doubt you called to catch up on career developments, Scotty. Did something happen?”
A low exhale filtered through the connection.
“Always straight to the point.”
“Old habits,” Brook replied, the words carrying more weight than she intended.
“Look, it’s probably nothing,” Scotty said after clearing his throat. “But my mom went to the cemetery yesterday to put flowers on Dad's grave. She said there was a man standing at Sally Pearson's tombstone.”
Sally.
Brook’s chest began to ache.
Discovering that Jacob had stolen Sally’s head from her grave before it had decomposed and somehow transported it to Alaska had been beyond disturbing.
He’d kept that part of her frozen for decades, planning and strategizing for a way to lure Brook to the site for…
well, she wasn’t sure what had been behind such a thought process.
The ice cave collapse had robbed Jacob of whatever reunion he’d created in his head.
“Mom said when she got closer, the man walked away,” Scotty continued, his voice dropping lower as if he were afraid of being overheard. “He didn't turn around, just left and kept walking, even when she called after him. He left a bouquet of flowers.”
“Sally has a lot of family members. Friends. Why are you calling me, Scotty?”
“Mom mentioned that the man had a slight limp.” Scotty’s pause spoke more than his words. “Like I said, probably nothing, especially since the FBI thinks your brother died in Alaska.”
“If you thought it was nothing, you wouldn't be calling.”
Another pause.
“You're right,” Scotty admitted quietly. “I wouldn't.”
Through the store window, Brook observed Bit pull his beanie lower as he prepared to brave the cold again.
He collected two bags of snacks and energy drinks, as well as her English Toffee Cappuccino off the counter.
She glanced at the dashboard clock, calculating the time needed for an impromptu trip.
Harrowick to Morton was approximately six-and-a-half hours by car.
The second wave of the storm wasn't predicted to hit until Sunday night.
If she left early tomorrow morning, she could reach Morton by early afternoon.
She could then be back in Harrowick by tomorrow evening.
The team was more than capable of continuing the investigation without her for sixteen hours.
“Brook? Are you still there?”
“Yes.” She made her decision in that moment, a snap judgment based on years of experience hunting her brother. If he hadn’t wanted to be seen, he wouldn’t have. "I’m in Ohio on a case. How long are you in town for?”
“Monday,” Scotty replied warily. “I’m driving down to Florida to spend some time with my oldest son. Why?”
Bit pushed through the store's doors, the cold air immediately causing him to hunch his shoulders. He made his way to the passenger side door of the SUV.
“Meet me tomorrow at Aunt Ginny’s Cafe at noon.” Brook slowly exhaled some of her tension after voicing her decision. “We’ll have a quick lunch, and then afterward…we’re going to visit Sally’s grave.”