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“Can we…can we just get to this? Who’s dead, Travis?” Howard asked, a break in his voice.
Travis looked to the door. “Is Brett coming…” He trailed off because the door opened.
Brett came inside, scanned the room, and shut the door before he moved to lean against the wall behind me. Vicky had taken the seat beside me, and the other chair was at the end of the table. Brett wouldn’t have been happy that far from me. I knew by now that he wanted to be near. No, needed to be.
Travis shot me a look. “Did you know a Deandra Walkins and a Martell Hibbley?”
Oh no. Pain rose up in me.
“You’re mistaken,” Howard choked out.
Travis’ mouth turned down. “You do, then.”
“Oh—no, no. This… There’s a mistake. Travis, there’s a mistake. There has to be.” Vicky’s voice began to tremble.
There wasn’t.
“They’re dead?” I asked quietly.
Brett was right behind me. He wasn’t touching me, but I felt him. Could feel his heat. Could smell him. Pine and leather drifted over me. I sucked it in, needing it because, my God, what did this mean?
“They were murdered, yes.” Travis hesitated again, just briefly, before the cop in him took over. He grew cold. Distant. “They were found in their home.”
“The kids?” I asked, my heart pounding as I remembered. “They—Martell has a daughter. Deandra used to watch some neighbor’s kids.”
“No children were in the home. And there was no indication any had been present. We’ve sent units to the home of Kindra Hibbley. She’s his daughter, right?”
I nodded.
This was all wrong. All a mistake.
“He had her when he was young,” I said. “She’s an adult now. I think she has her own kid.” I shook my head, feeling completely untethered. “I think. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Listen.” Travis pulled out a chair, scraping it over the floor. He leaned forward, his arms on the table. “I’m here because the case was assigned to me. But, Billie, I would’ve asked for it anyway. They were killed the way the Midwest Butcher murdered his victims.”
I nodded. I’d known that was coming. A sick feeling grew in me. “A copycat?”
“Maybe.” He raked a hand down the side of his face. “But there were things…things the Midwest Butcher did with his victims that were never shared with the media. No one knows. This killer, he did the same things. The exact same things.”
“What are you saying?” Howard jerked toward the table, grabbing the back of the chair on the end, unsteady on his feet. “What are you saying, Travis?”
“Did you request the prison logs for visitors?” Brett asked behind me.
Travis cleared his throat, leaning back in his seat. “We did, yes. If Cameron Fowler was in contact with anyone other than his lawyers, we’ll find out.”
“He’s smart,” I said before I even realized I’d opened my mouth.
I felt their attention come back to me, but I couldn’t look at anyone. I fixed my gaze on the table, seeing the past. “The Midwest Butcher came through the back because he knew it was unlocked. Jojo’s brother had just come in. The door didn’t even shut. He caught it and was inside before anyone could react. He’s smart. With how fast he… He was so fast.” I closed my eyes, their screams now deafening. “Jojo’s mom started screaming. Then Jojo. Her scream was different. A child’s…” A weight pressed me to the floor. “That’s why he didn’t hear me running to hide. Their screams covered up my sounds.”
God.
My chest was going to collapse.
“I’m alive because they’re dead.”
Brett’s hand found my shoulder. “They’re dead because a sick fuck killed them. Do not take that shit on. Do not. That’s his and only his. You got me?”
I couldn’t look up at him. I couldn’t move, but some of the pressure eased. Just a little. That’s what I needed to hear and perhaps exactly the way I needed to hear it. He was pissed off and annoyed for me.
