CHAPTER SEVEN
Alison exited the house to find another uniformed officer at the door with Dale Kent. The officer was trying to calm Dale, while not directly engaging physically with him.
"Sir, if you just hold on a second, my colleague is going up the chain of command to ensure there is no problem with you going in there."
"Chain of command?" Dale boomed. "Do you know who I am?"
"I am aware, Captain Kent. I hope you respect that I can't just let anyone into the crime scene. I’m only following protocol."
"Protocol be damned," Dale shouted. "If you’re refusing me entry into the house, then—"
"Dale," Alison said firmly, hoping that her tone and use of his first name were enough to disarm him temporarily.
Dale looked at Alison and grunted, glancing back at the officer and deciding whether he wanted to argue with him more.
"Hey," Alison said as she approached Dale, "take a walk with me."
"I want to see the crime scene," Dale said.
"I know you do, and the officer is right. We need to go up the chain of command first. You know you can't be here, right? This is not your case, nor your crime scene, nor any of your business, Dale."
Dale breathed through his nose, his nostrils flaring.
He threw his hands up in the air as if he had been held back by someone.
When he turned, Alison went to him, took his arm, and led him away from the front door before he changed his mind and forced his way in.
She could feel resistance from him, but he allowed himself to be led away.
If he made a different decision, she was not sure she could stop him.
She had a gun in her purse back in Claire’s car—her father had taught both her and Emma to shoot at a young age—but it was not something she liked to carry unless walking into a dangerous situation. It wasn’t needed to try to dissuade a police captain from entering a crime scene.
"What are you doing here, Dale?" Alison asked once they were on the sidewalk outside the yard.
"I heard there had been another," he replied. "You told me that you would find this guy."
"I never told you that, and we both know it's not as simple as that. You can't come down here and expect to be let in. Your sister was killed two days ago. You should be at home resting. You’re not in the right frame of mind to be investigating this yourself, especially with how angry you are."
"I’m not angry," he claimed. "And you’re telling me that you wouldn’t do the exact same thing?"
"You’re not angry?" Alison scoffed. "You’re just about the worst person at hiding your anger. It’s justified, as I get why you wanted to come down here, but I’m the voice of reason.
And to answer your question, of course, I would want to come down here and do everything I could, but I have people in my life who dissuade me from that.
I can see that you don't. I’ve made some bad decisions because I let my emotions rule me. I won't let you do the same, Dale."
"What do you expect me to do? Sit at home, twiddling my thumbs, while this guy murders more and more people."
"Yeah, that’s exactly what I expect," Alison said. "You’ve made a few comparisons between us, and I want to assure you that I take this case as seriously as you do. I want to catch this guy as much as you do. So, either you go back home, or I’ll have someone order it. You’re a threat in this case."
Dale glared at her, but Alison didn't back down.
"I want to know everything from the crime scene," he said. "There will be justice. I need your assurances that you’ll inform me of everything."
"I can't promise that," Alison said. "I’ll pass on information you need to know and keep you abreast of how the hunt for your sister’s killer is going, but I can't involve you in this. I need you to go home, Dale."
Dale looked behind Alison as Special Agent Martine arrived.
"Yeah, fine," Dale snarled. "Yeah, I’ll go home." He turned and stormed off.
Alison grimaced, baring her teeth a little. "You heard that, didn't you? He’s not planning on going home."
"I don't know," Claire admitted.
Alison went after Dale. "Hey! You know I can't let you do what you are about to do!"
Dale turned to face her. "What am I about to do?"
"I don't know, but I know you’re not going home, which means you have somewhere to go. What’s your next move, Dale?"
He was silent.
"You can either talk to me, or I have an officer follow you to find out, and you waste more of our time."
Dale’s pupils were wide, his fists balled. He stood leaning slightly forward as if ready to pounce. They were essentially both on the same team, but she had the distinct impression that he didn't like her.
"I don’t have time for this," Alison said. "If this guy can be caught, I will catch him."
"You’re not doing a very good job of it so far, are you?"
"Tell me what I need to know, Dale. Where were you going?" Alison asked.
"I want to know about the case."
"I’ll keep you informed as much as I can, but I’m not releasing information to you that I don't have to. You’re only hindering in finding your sister’s killer."
Dale was quiet again. She wouldn’t like to run into him in a bar or a back alley.
"Marcus Webb," Dale finally said. "If you pay him a visit, then I won't have to. He’s definitely a person I’d want to talk to from what I’ve heard."
***
Alison and Claire walked into the bar and looked around. The three men sitting in the bar and the male bartender all looked their way. It wasn’t the sort of place that women usually ventured into, and it was as if two aliens had walked into the establishment.
Before any of the four men could say something that would make Alison annoyed, Claire pulled out her badge.
"Special Agent Martinez. We’re looking for Alan White."
The barman stood polishing a glass for a second before gesturing to the man at the end of the bar.
Alison and Claire approached him as he continued to sip his beer and looked straight ahead at the wall behind the bar.
"Mr. White, we’d like to talk with you about Marcus Webb. Do you think we can move to a table?" Claire asked.
"How about you buy me a beer, and I’ll tell you anything you want?" he replied.
"How about you tell us what we need to know so I don’t have to haul you down to the station?"
Alan downed the rest of his beer and gestured for the barman to bring him another. Then, he got up from his barstool and ambled his way over to a table and sat down. The two ladies joined him.
"What do you want to know about Marcus?" Alan asked. "What trouble is he in now?"
"Why would you think he’s in any trouble?" Claire asked.
"You wouldn’t be asking about him if you didn't want to talk with him, and he’s the kind of guy that trouble follows. Where did you go first? You talked to someone and they said I might know where he is, right?"
"Something like that," Claire said. "We went to the prison where you both worked together until a few years ago, and we discovered he was fired not only from there but from multiple facilities over the past decade for inappropriate conduct and violating confidentiality and security protocols."
Alan scowled. "Yeah, that sounds about right. He didn't last all that long in prison. Around here, a job like that is for life. We always joked that you went to prison for life; it just depended on which side of the bars you were on."
"The warden told us that he had his fair share of run-ins with the forensic psychologists whose evaluations he disagreed with," Alison said.
"Yeah, did he ever. I like that guy, and we went fishing together, but he wouldn’t stop talking about it.
He said that when someone was locked up for life, they should be in prison for the rest of their life.
And he had a whole diatribe about prison sentences being too short for most things.
It wasn’t just the psychologists; it was just about everyone in the prison system that he rubbed the wrong way.
Let’s just say that he didn’t have a lot of friends. "
"But you were his friend," Alison pointed out.
The barman placed the beer on the table, spilling a little.
"Yeah, I got on with him, but it was mainly because of the fishing. He was different out there, you know? When we were in the city, he could get tiring in his tirades, but out in nature…It calmed him. We didn’t have a lot of time at work to chat; it was out on the rivers that I really got to know him. "
"Right before he was fired from the prison, he was found accessing institutional systems that he shouldn’t have been in, and he was caught downloading sensitive case material. Did he ever speak about that?"
"No." The answer was short and far too quick.
"Do you want to think about that for a little longer?" Alison asked. "You don't need to cover for him."
"We’re investigating a double homicide," Claire said. "If you do cover for your friend and we find out he was involved, then that involves you, too."
"Homicide?" Alan swallowed before taking a large drink of his beer. "I don't know anything about that. Marcus wouldn’t…I’m sure he wouldn’t do anything like that."
"But?" Alison asked, sensing there was more.
"Sure, he did have run-ins with people, and they became quite heated, and he blamed a lot of people that he had run-ins with for his eventual termination. I just…I know he was just spitballing."
"What did he tell you?" Claire asked.
"It was…There was one time we were out on a boat on the river, and he said something about taking matters into his own hands, and about getting justice, and I knew he wasn’t speaking seriously, but this look came over him, and he just kind of spaced out for a few seconds.
When he came back to reality, he didn't mention it again. It was weird, but he wouldn’t actually do anything like that. "
"We need to know where he is," Claire said. "We tried his listed address in the city, and there was no one home. His neighbor mentioned he hadn’t been home in a while. When we spoke to the warden of the prison, he mentioned that you might know where he was. So, where is he, Alan?"
Another swallow from Alan and a third of his beer was consumed after that.
"He’s always been an outdoors guy. He has a cabin out there in the middle of nowhere.
I've never been, but he told me where it was—said I could go out there anytime. It’s a place off the grid, only accessible by hiking in.
If he’s not at home, then that’s where he will be. "
"I’ll find you a map and you can show us exactly where the cabin is," Claire said. She looked at Alison. "You up for a hike?"
"Sure," she replied. "What’s not to love about hiking into the wilderness to search for the cabin of a potential serial killer?