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Chapter Sixteen
Easton stared into the eyes of Maxwell Calder and knew down to his bones they were missing something big.
“My client has nothing more to say, and you have no grounds to hold him.” Calder’s defense attorney, Isa Jagger, had shown up and stalled any forward progress. The woman had a reputation for being a pit bull in court, and she had gotten Judge Hutchins to expedite his detention hearing to later that afternoon.
“He’s going to go down for first-degree murder in the death of Becca Murray. We have a trail that leads right to your client. Did he tell you Murray was an FBI informant during his days in South Boston?” He turned his attention to Calder. “What’d you promise her to lure her to the abandoned home on Highland Path?” He studied the man in silence, watching for any tells of deceit. He lifted his chin toward Jagger. “Maxwell dressed a dead woman to resemble the only survivor of the Kingston Town Killer, complete with a local newspaper from the year of her disappearance. Lived in the area at the time of the murders and moved to New England shortly after the surviving victim relocated up North.”
Jagger narrowed her gaze across the table. “As you’re well aware, you don’t need to answer any questions, Mr. Calder,” she said without sparing her client a glance. “These agents are grasping at straws. If you have nothing more to present, I’d like a private word with my client before the hearing.”
“Actually.” Agent Nilsson stood and smoothed her straight gray skirt. She picked up the old photo album and rounded the metal table and chairs. “We found something interesting at your residence.” She laid down the photo album with the page open to the picture of three siblings. “When your brother Wayne killed Janie, did you help him cover it up?” Nilsson asked.
Calder recoiled at her words, eyes bulging.
Interesting.
“And when he raped her?” Easton added.
Calder’s face blanched before heating to an intense shade of red. “I don’t know what the hell you’re playing at—”
“Mr. Calder. Not another word, please.” Calder’s attorney closed her leather-bound portfolio and quickly slid it into her bag on the floor.
“Wayne never touched her.” The table jolted as Calder plowed his closed fists onto the metal and stood. “She died in her sleep, goddammit. Some undetected condition.”
“Does telling yourself that help the guilt?” Nilsson leaned her hip against the side of the table, arms crossed over her chest.
Jagger’s nostrils flared. “This meeting is over,” she said with an air of finality.
“Janie was his first.” Nilsson continued as though she hadn’t heard Jagger’s demand. “Maybe your brother didn’t mean to kill her, but her death was the trigger. The reason he cut all the other girls’ hair. No matter how many he took, they were never perfect. Not like Janie was.”
“Come on, Mr. Calder.” Jagger grabbed her client’s arm and urged him toward the exit.
“Janie,” Easton said, fighting to keep the disgust from his voice. “That’s what he called those little girls as he was raping them, torturing them.” What he’d called Kinley, dammit. “That’s a classified detail, but maybe you’ve heard it. Did you know that, Mr. Calder? The fantasy never lived up to—”
The door slammed shut, cutting off his words, but right before it did, he’d seen what he was looking for.
Horror.
“If Judge Hutchins cuts him lose this afternoon, let’s get a tail on Calder. He’s going to go directly to Wayne.” Soon, this would be over for Kinley. She wouldn’t have to look over her shoulder at every turn. She’d be free to live her life. A life he hoped included him.
“He looked genuinely shocked by those allegations.” Nilsson stepped back from the table. “He knew enough about the crimes to help Wayne evade arrest, but didn’t know or didn’t want to know what was going on underneath his own roof.”
“No matter how evil someone is, it’s hard to imagine your own blood turning on you.” Just like his own mother had done. “I need to call Kinley and give her an update.”
“I’m going to pull together some last-minute thoughts for the hearing. I’ll be at my desk if you need me.” Without waiting for his reply, she exited the back door of the interview room. Once the door closed, he immediately picked up his phone and dialed Kinley’s number. It went right to voicemail. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and he punched it in again.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
His heart thudded harder. He dialed the landline to his house, but the phone just rang. Kinley had no reason not to pick up or to have her phone turned off. Something was seriously wrong. He could feel it in the way his hands trembled as he punched in Gus’s number. In the way his breathing had increased, along with sickness churning in his stomach.
The phone rang once before his brother’s voice boomed over the line. “Kinley fill you in?” Gus asked.
“Fill me in? She’s not even picking up her phone.” His voice wavered, and he didn’t give a fuck. He was worried. There were so many things that could’ve gone wrong.
“Shit. She texted me a little over an hour ago to say she was headed back to your place.” Phones were ringing in the background, and a police scanner relayed information to those on duty.
“Back? Christ, she was never supposed to leave.” He stood, patting his pockets with frantic hands to locate his keys.
“Agent Bryce was fed up when she couldn’t get anywhere with Calder, so she stormed down to the barracks and pulled his daughter in for questioning. After Bryce came down hard, Merry begged me to call Kinley.” With each word, his brother’s voice got harder. He wasn’t the only one who thought something was terribly wrong.
