36 #2
“You moved the bodies!” Even speaking the words, Mandy could barely believe them. “You knew about the cave because of the Dixon children. They themselves had shown it to you.”
“A cavern I’d never even heard of. It seemed a safe bet.”
“But…” Mandy was genuinely bewildered.
“If no one knew what had happened to the Dixons,” Isla explained slowly, “then the killer also would remain ignorant. A vanished family would be perplexing; a lone survivor, an immediate target. It’s possible I do have a long history of trespassing those grounds, meaning I knew exactly where the Dixons kept their ATV.
“It took me all night, but I got each one transported. Then, of course, I realized my next problem.”
“The search dogs. Being a trainer yourself, you know how skilled they are.”
“Can’t fool a good dog’s nose. So”—the woman shrugged as if the next part were obvious—“I lit a few small charges above the cave entrance, partially collapsing the opening. Some smaller stones here, tree branches there, and it sealed up well enough. The dogs would hit upon it, of course, but be unable to access it. To further confuse the situation, I’d passed the cavern while carrying William, meaning a scent trail remained.
The dogs worked their way to the granite ledge, as they should.
Then, when an immediate source wasn’t apparent, continued along William’s trail up through the woods, where I graciously laid a second trail leading them to the road.
Though by the end of that evening, I’d moved so many bloody objects so many places, you can hardly blame the dogs for growing confused.
If you’d had a black light, half this mountain would’ve lit up. ”
“How very ingenious, er, fucking cold of you.” Mandy shook her head, hardly believing what she was hearing. “Except you still had proof of the lone survivor. You had William.”
“When I returned to the house at dawn to pick up some items for William, I discovered a trail of bloody footprints. Clearly the shooter had searched the place. Not a random stranger,” Isla emphasized.
“Someone with a specific agenda. But that gave me the idea. I’d already returned the family’s shoes and raincoats in order to create a ruse.
But while I’d done my best not to leave any evidence behind, how could I be certain?
Cross-contamination is up there with trying to fool a good dog’s nose.
You can’t count on a hundred percent elimination, but you can confuse the issue.
So I decided to add my own footprints to the mix.
If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em sort of thing. ”
“You did it. You stamped smaller bloody footprints all around the living room in order to lead the police astray—”
“Confuse a killer.”
“Field medic. Patched up my father,” Mandy rattled off. “You’re the one who polluted the scene with his DNA. Dear Lord. You just happened to have some of his old bandages lying around? What the hell.”
“As a matter of fact…” Isla, starting to grow equally heated.
“There’d been an altercation the day before.
Paul Jenkins had been drinking and got into it with his wife.
When your father went to break things up, Paul caught him in the shoulder with a steak knife.
Your father considered it a personal matter.
He—and the Jenkinses—wanted to keep it quiet.
I stitched him up, then deposited the bandages in my burn pile, which I hadn’t gotten around to emptying.
It’s one thing to make a few bloody footprints, but dozens of them?
I had no choice. I sliced open my own damn soles, and then, when they went dry, wrapped my feet in your father’s bandages soaked in saline.
It wasn’t pretty, but it got the job done.
Which was the whole damn point. None of this was brilliant or thoughtful or good.
It was the best thinking of a woman who’d been up the entire night in the middle of a terrible storm, and was desperate to save a boy’s life. ”
“My father had to know,” Mandy argued. “How could he not figure it out? Come on, what you’re describing…”
“Your father was a very busy man quickly engulfed in a complicated investigation. Dog played his part well, leading your father to the scene. After that, there wasn’t a law enforcement agent in this state that wasn’t crawling all over the place.
I have another, smaller outbuilding where I make my soap—”
“I knew it!”
Isla rolled her eyes. “I moved William and the dog there. When your father or anyone else dropped by with questions, it was easy enough to deflect. Then, after a week, when William’s fever came down, I borrowed a car from the Baird sisters, ostensibly for a supply run to Portland, Maine.
Except I loaded up William and Dog and drove to a tiny town in northern Vermont.
Where I deposited them at my mother’s house. ”
“Your mother? What the fuck. I was told she was long gone, if not deceased?”
“Yes and no. When I was younger, she suffered from ‘episodes.’ After my father’s accident, she withdrew once and for all to a wellness retreat in Vermont.
She ended up starting a tea business near the commune and finally…
settled. We reconnected years later, not exactly a close relationship, but something.
When trying to figure out where to hide a wounded six-year-old boy…
her lifestyle in a remote community, filled with people prone to live and let be, proved an ideal fit. ”
“You should’ve contacted my father,” Mandy protested. “You should’ve trusted him to help you! God, do you have any idea what kind of mess you created, eliminating an entire crime scene—”
“I never thought it would drag on this long! I honestly believed the police would develop leads, identify the killer. Or someone would come forward to confess. Austin…he thinks he harmed the Dixons, but all these years later has never said a word?”
“Austin was nearly blackout drunk. No way he did everything you’re describing.”
“Exactly! But who did? Because we’re talking someone totally ruthless and coldly calculating.
Trust me, I’ve spent the past thirty years trying to figure it out.
Watching, waiting, researching, analyzing.
” Isla threw her own hands up into the air in frustration, but also anguish.
“I had to stop talking to your father, end the few friendships I had, because I couldn’t bear the not knowing.
Let alone what if I said too much, or said too little?
My life had been small enough. William, the children…
they were the first bright spot I’d had, and then… and then…” Isla trailed off brokenly.
“In the beginning, I thought it would be a matter of days. Then, after that first week, maybe a month. But surely the police would break the case, at which point, I’d call in an anonymous tip leading to William and his family.
I never figured—” Isla’s voice hitched. “I never thought it would take this long. I never anticipated William having no memory of that night. Worse, that he’d have no memory of his family, this town, even me.
I saved his life. And I cost him everything. Of course, he now hates me.”
“He now hates you?” Mandy started, then stopped, as a buzz started to build in her ears. Head wound, furrowed scar. Someone who might develop a seemingly natural fascination with the past, this area, this case, without totally understanding why.
Staring at her from the front porch, Isla seemed to know the precise moment it all clicked together.
She stated, “William couldn’t exist as an anonymous six-year-old forever.
Eventually, a young couple visiting the retreat took a shine to him.
They were experienced foster parents. A bit of careful questioning on their part, some delicate half-truths on my mother’s, followed by a mountain of administrative red tape, and William was placed with them.
They adopted him, moved to Nashua. Where he grew up, joined the military, served his country with distinction, and ultimately… ”
Mandy felt her heart was about to explode as the enormity of the situation struck her. “He knows. You told him. That’s why Adams stormed out. The gun! Why the hell is he carrying a rifle?” Followed almost immediately by: “Wait, you said you discovered bloody footprints inside the house at dawn?”
“That’s what gave me the idea—”
A sharp crack in the distance.
Mandy’s eyes widening, as yet another terrible truth became suddenly clear.
A second gunshot reverberated, followed in quick succession by a third, then a fourth.
Isla appeared equally startled.
“What did you do?” Mandy demanded. But there was no time to wait for an answer. She unsnapped the holster of her sidearm, already barking orders into her radio as she bolted, slipping and sliding, into the snowy woods.