Chapter Three
After a quick shower to slough off the dust and sweat from chopping wood, Beau headed down the mountain.
Not because he believed there was a secret meeting about to happen but because he needed to warn his officers that the town was under the scrutiny of the Covingtons.
If Sierra’s claims about her brother’s death were true, it was possible she was right that he and others were in danger.
Reopening an old case wouldn’t exactly make the killer or killers happy.
And, as she’d said, if they would dare to kill her brother, they’d think nothing of killing some small town cops.
The pain in Sierra’s eyes and the grief in her voice as she’d told him about her brother had certainly seemed genuine.
But once he’d received that text, and knew she’d lied about the meeting, he couldn’t risk trusting her.
About anything. Instead, he’d look into her claims and find out the truth for himself.
No matter what, he had to remember she was a crime boss’s daughter.
Nothing she said could be taken at face value, no matter how much her apparent grief had tugged at him, making him long to pull her into his arms and comfort her.
He shook his head at that ridiculous thought and left his police SUV parked in the lot at the end of Main Street, then headed up the seldom-used alley behind the police station.
It felt odd not using the front door. But there was a tiny sliver of doubt remaining about the supposed meeting.
While he couldn’t imagine his team lying to him, he also couldn’t think of a reason for Sierra to lie about there being one, not when he could easily prove or disprove what she’d said.
And to do that, he preferred to scout out the situation in the police station before announcing his presence.
He unlocked the back door, then eased it open, peering down the short hallway to make sure he didn’t see anyone before stepping inside.
He quietly shut and locked the door, then stood with his back to the wall to assess the situation.
It only took a few minutes of eavesdropping to realize that Sierra wasn’t the one who’d lied about the meeting. His team was.
He could clearly hear the meeting taking place in the open area of the station just beyond the hallway, what they referred to as the squad room in their tiny police station. And he recognized every voice that spoke. They were discussing the fate of his job as the chief of police.
Just like Sierra had told him.
He tamped down his guilt over how he’d treated her and focused on the debate going on just outside of his field of vision.
“This Phil Gunther guy who abducted Tanya Jericho, he was known as the Phantom,” the mayor said.
“He was living up in the mountains for years. Decades. There were reports of burglaries in people’s vacation cabins during that time, off and on.
From what we’ve found out since all of this came to light, some of those burglaries were him breaking in and living in those cabins and taking the supplies while the owners were out of state.
Officer Fletcher, you were in charge of a lot of those types of investigations.
Were any of them actually solved at the time? ”
“Yes, sir. Most of them were. Quite a few were from local teens, breaking in out of boredom or on a dare.”
“But some went unsolved, correct?”
“Well, yes, but not that many.”
“How many? I told you to check the records prior to this meeting. What did you find?”
“I, uh, a couple here and there. We have an excellent solve rate for crimes in Mystic Lake. It’s the, ah, disappearances that often go cold. And of course that’s mainly because of the lake, the hazards under the water that—”
“Officer Fletcher, what is the exact number of similar unsolved cabin break-ins and burglaries?”
She cleared her throat. “Two to three per year.”
“For how long? As long as Chief Dawson has been the chief of police? That long?”
She mumbled a reply.
“What was that?” the mayor said. “Speak up.”
She sighed. “Yes. Two to three per year went unsolved, pretty much every year as far back as I could find records.”
“Thank you, Officer Fletcher,” the mayor said.
“Two per year is a pattern. The chief should have realized that and investigated to determine why that pattern existed. If he had, he might have figured out that there was someone living up in the mountains, off the radar, breaking into cabins to get supplies. And if he’d followed through, this Phantom could have been caught years ago, preventing many deaths blamed on the so-called ghosts of Mystic Lake. ”
“Mr. Mayor.” This time it was Officer Collier who spoke up. “That’s not a fair conclusion. None of us officers ever connected those break-ins. And even if we had, who’s to say we could have figured out there was one person behind those crimes, let alone catch him?”
“Your chief is the one responsible for analyzing crime statistics for the department. Even if none of you noticed what was actually going on, he should have.”
“May I speak please, Mr. Mayor?” Lydia Jericho’s pain-filled voice cut through their arguments.
Beau winced. The last time he’d spoken to her and her husband was about two months ago at the hospital in Chattanooga where their daughter, Tanya, was being treated. The young girl had been abducted when she was fifteen and kept captive for nearly a year by the Phantom.
Beau had been just as involved in the investigation into Tanya’s disappearance as his officers.
And he’d come to the conclusion that she must have drowned in Mystic Lake.
It wasn’t until an outside investigator came to town that the truth was revealed: Tanya was alive and had been suffering at the hands of a psychopath the entire time.
Beau shook himself from his morose thoughts and focused on what Mrs. Jericho was saying.
“He told us that she was gone. That our little girl had drowned in the lake. And all that time she was up in those mountains, being tortured and…” Her voice broke.
“Take your time, sweetheart.” Her husband comforted her.
The guilt and self-recriminations that Beau had been struggling with ever since Tanya was rescued came rushing back with a vengeance. He ran a shaking hand through his short hair.
Images of Tanya after she’d been found whirled around in his mind like a kaleidoscope.
Her long red hair, matted and dirty. Her clothes tattered and torn.
She was painfully thin, ghostly pale from being kept so much of the time in a home-made jail cell in a cave.
But it was the look in her eyes that Beau would never forget.
There was no joy at being rescued, no smiles for her parents when she was reunited with them at the hospital.
There was only…emptiness, a vacant stare that spoke of trauma that none of them could ever begin to imagine or understand.
Trauma that Beau might have prevented or at least cut short if he’d kept looking for her.
The awkward silence was broken by the sound of a throat clearing. Then Tanya’s mother continued, echoing Beau’s own thoughts.
“If Chief Dawson had kept investigating, if he hadn’t let the case go cold, maybe she’d have been found earlier.
The truth is that the only reason our little girl was found alive was because her school teacher kept pushing the case forward by bringing in help from outsiders.
If she hadn’t done that, the case never would have been solved.
Tanya would have died in those mountains.
And that monster would still be sneaking around our town, abducting and hurting others.
What else do you need to know besides that?
He’s incompetent. He needs to go. Her father and I will agree to the settlement you’ve offered, as discussed, but only if our proposed condition is agreed to, that Chief Dawson is fired. ”
Beau hung his head as the discussion in the squad room became heated. It became hard to distinguish who was saying what, but there was no doubt where the mayor stood on the issue.
He wanted to fire Beau.
When one of Beau’s officers spoke up again to defend him, he straightened away from the wall. He couldn’t stand here any longer while those under his command risked their own careers and livelihoods on his behalf. It was time to end this.
He rounded the corner and entered the squad room. Everyone went quiet, and every eye turned toward him.
The mayor’s shocked expression would have been comical at any other time. But the pain on Lydia Jericho’s pale face as she stared at him was nothing to laugh at.
Ignoring the mayor, the lawyers, and everyone else in the room, Beau crossed the short distance to where the Jerichos were seated. Raymond Jericho put a protective arm around his wife’s shoulders as they both looked up at Beau.
“Mr. Jericho, Mrs. Jericho, I’m so sorry that I failed you and your daughter. If I could go back in time and—”
Mrs. Jericho stood and slapped him hard across the face.
A collective gasp went up around the room. Mr. Jericho jumped to his feet and put his arm around his wife again, his face turning red as he apologized for her actions.
The burning in Beau’s cheek was nothing compared to the guilt slamming through him. “The only one who owes anyone an apology is me. I’m truly, deeply sorry that my actions, or inactions, hurt Tanya and your family.”
If Mr. Jericho hadn’t been holding onto his wife, Beau was certain she’d have slapped him again. But no amount of physical pain she could inflict could hurt him more than seeing the hurt and loathing in her eyes as she glared at him.