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No. Rachel couldn’t allow that, and it was why she’d come to Jericho.
Along with his reputation of being a hot-shot military guy and a so-called guardian angel operative at Maverick Ops, he was damn resourceful. Their upbringing had seen to that. And if anyone could stop this killer, it was Jericho.
“Who’s the asswipe bastard who’d kill kids if he couldn’t get to his primary target?” Jericho asked.
“I don’t know,” she had to admit. Now, the “Huh” expression flashed on his face, and she sighed. “I need to start from the beginning. I think I’ll have one of those Pop-Tarts after all.”
Jericho stared at her, and stared before he went into the adjoining kitchen and came back with two packs of Pop-Tarts and a couple of glasses of water. He handed Rachel her share and sank down onto the sofa. She sat in the chair across from him.
Rachel opened the Pop-Tart, had a bite, and took out her phone. “Two months ago, I testified in a trial against an abusive parent, Marla Cantrell.” She pulled up the woman’s photo on her phone and showed it to him. “She was convicted, rightfully so, since she had a long history of using her teenage son as a punching bag. Marla went to jail and was murdered by two other inmates during her first week there.”
Jericho studied the photo, took out his own phone and typed in something. Within seconds, he started reading what he’d accessed.
“Marla Cantrell, forty-one at the time of her death. Three prior convictions for child abuse and neglect. Another for embezzlement and drugs. Not exactly mother of the year,” he added and then looked at her. “Is her husband, Paulie, the one you believe wants you dead?”
Yes, Jericho was good to have picked up on that in less than a minute.
“Possibly,” Rachel admitted. “He’s definitely a suspect. Notice he has no record, but he basically ignored what his wife did to their son for years. And he testified for her at the trial. He tried to put all the blame on the son. When she was convicted, he was very angry. Enraged,” she amended.
Jericho nodded and looked up from his phone. “How many people has Paulie possibly killed to avenge his wife’s death?” he asked.
“Two.” She pulled up another photo. “Dr. Elise Cooper from San Antonio. She, too, testified against Marla, and last month she was killed while she was jogging. A hit and run that SAPD is investigating, but so far, they haven’t come up with anything to connect Paulie or anyone else to her death.”
Rachel had to steady her breathing and heartbeat some before she showed him the next photo. “Hildie Davidson. Marla’s sixteen-year-old son was put in her foster home immediately after his mother’s arrest when SAPD was going through the routine check to make sure Paulie, too, hadn’t been involved in the abuse. Hildie also testified against Marla.”
Jericho did more typing on his phone, no doubt accessing Hildie’s record, too. “She was killed in what looks to have been a botched burglary.”
“She was murdered last week,” Rachel insisted, hoping that Jericho would be able to come to the same conclusions that she had when following the trail of these investigative breadcrumbs. “Five days before she was killed, Hildie called me and said she was certain she’d heard someone prowling around her house. She felt someone was watching her.”
“But she didn’t actually see Paulie?” Jericho questioned.
Rachel had to shake her head. “But she did see a young woman or teenager that she thought might be casing her place. Hildie thought it might be her.” She pulled up another photo and showed it to him. “That’s Manson Cantrell. She’s Marla and Paulie’s nineteen-year-old daughter.”
Jericho frowned. “They named their daughter Manson? Is their son’s name Gacey or Bundy?”
Rachel had had a similar thought when she’d first heard it. “No, the son’s name is Jason. Maybe from the Friday the Thirteenth movies,” she admitted with a shrug.
“But he’s not a nightmare, right?” Jericho asked. “He’s the one who was being abused by his so-called mom?”
“Yes, and in all my dealings with him, Jason’s been a good kid. Manson, not so much. She adored her mother and made some threats on Facebook against the cops, Dr. Cooper, the DA, Hildie, and me before she deleted her Facebook page.” She paused. “Dr. Cooper was killed a week later.”
Jericho ate some more Pop-Tart while he studied Manson’s photo. The teenager didn’t look so much like a vigilante revenge killer with her purple hair and milky pale skin. However, there was a coldness in her eyes that Rachel didn’t think she was imagining.
“So, Paulie, Manson or both could have killed the doctor and could have then started stalking Hildie,” he stated. “Did they get to her right away or go after a loved one?”
“A loved one.” She paused. Had to. Had to force back the images of something horrible happening to one of her kids. “Hildie’s twenty-two-year-old daughter was assaulted and left for dead. It’s a miracle she survived. And she managed to tell the police that her attacker had been wearing a mask and beat her with a baseball bat. Then, the attacker whispered This is for your mother.”
The only reaction Jericho had was he stopped chewing for a couple of seconds. But because Rachel knew him so well, she’d sensed the shock register just below the surface.
“The cops would have checked to see if Paulie or Manson had solid alibis,” he stated.
“They’re checking. But even if they have alibis, someone else could be involved. Maybe someone they hired. Or a friend. Paulie has a lot of friends with criminal records.”
Jericho typed something on his phone. Maybe a search to start sussing out those friends. “So, Paulie and Manson could be behind the two murders. What makes you think you’re next?”
Rachel’s stomach instantly tightened. Or rather tightened more than it already was. She hadn’t exactly been in a relaxed state the past month.
“Someone’s been following me,” Rachel explained. “And, no, I haven’t managed to get a good look at the person. And I’m certain I heard someone prowling around the group home the night before last.” She stopped, groaned. “Trust me, I’m not just being paranoid.”
