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Not really, Ryder thought, but didn’t say anything.
His paternal grandparents had never forgiven his dad for marrying a non-Korean wife. They subtly criticized his mom every time they came over—how the house was never clean enough, dinner mediocre, or her clothing inappropriate. It didn’t seem to matter that his mother, like his father, was a doctor (a microbiologist, while his father was a surgeon), or that she was as brilliant in her field as his father in his. His parents had been married for thirty-five years, and yet his grandparents had never changed.
Ryder didn’t understand why his dad never stood up for his mom, nor did he understand why his mom didn’t fight back—especially since in every other situation she stood up for herself and spoke her mind.Traditionwasn’t a good excuse, but it was the only one his parents offered him.
His one act of rebellion had been joining the Army. He had been premed in college and planned to follow in his parents’ footsteps. The decision to join ROTC while in college had changed his entire life.
He’d expected that his father would never forgive him. Ryder was surprised but happy that his judgment had been wrong. His father embraced him, told him to follow his own path.
Still, the grudge that his grandparents held suggested to Ryder that some individuals could be unforgiving—perhaps even to the point of murder. Brandon Fielding maintained he had been wrongly imprisoned because of Neil Devereaux’s perseverance, and clearly bore a grudge.
Ryder sat down at Agent Devereaux’s desk and rubbed his forehead. He wasn’t generally prone to headaches, and this one had come on suddenly, but he dismissed it as a consequence of his upside-down routine today. He hadn’t exercised, his breakfast was far earlier than normal, and he hadn’t had time to find a healthy lunch, resulting in eating snack food. By tomorrow he would be back to his routine.
Devereaux had an old PC on his tidy desk, off. Ryder unplugged the cords and put the computer aside to take to the station.
The retired cop didn’t have a lot of personal mementos in his den, save for one photo on the wall. It was several years old, Ryder knew, because his wife had died eight years ago, and Mrs. Devereaux was in the photo. The kids looked to be teenagers. It had been taken on a boat, and Ryder recognized the marina in the background, near Chesapeake Bay. Now the two kids had no living parents, and while grown, they were grieving. Ryder wanted to find out what happened, to give them peace, but would they ever have peace?
Ryder loved his parents; if they were gone, he would be alone. He was an only child; he wasn’t close to his father’s family; his maternal grandparents had died years ago. Did Neil’s kids, Eric and Jillian Devereaux, have other family? As they lived half a world apart, they must feel isolated and alone.
Ryder hoped to help find Eric and Jillian justice. He believed he would. His boss, Matt Costa, wasn’t a man who gave up, which was one attribute that Ryder admired—as well as his ability to delegate and the deep trust he placed in his team. Ryder didn’t want to let him down.
After setting the computer aside, he went through the desk drawers. Most were empty, which seemed odd for a man obsessed with a cold case. Where were the files? His notes? Was everything on the computer?
While most of the drawers were empty or filled with unrelated documents like Devereaux’s personal financial records, in the bottom drawer Ryder found two thick files about the Mowich Lake drownings, which he pulled out.
Two college seniors—Brian Stevens and Jason Mott—had drowned in Mowich Lake near Mount Rainier on Memorial Day weekend, shortly after finishing their third year of college. Though the deaths were suspicious, one body recovered first had a toxic level of alcohol in his system. The second body, recovered months later, was inconclusive. The ME concluded that the young men drowned, with a secondary cause of alcohol poisoning and hypothermia. Specifically, it appeared they were so wasted they fell off their boat and drowned in the icy water. They went missing that weekend, but the timing was uncertain—they were reported missing by their parents Tuesday morning when they didn’t return from the camping trip.
He would analyze the files in detail back at the station, but gave a cursory look at the information. Devereaux had meticulous notes attached to every article and record on the case, all laid out cleanly, and Ryder could easily follow his train of thought. But Devereaux had what Ryder always thought of as the proverbial “gut” that many cops talked about, and something Ryder lacked. He came across a sticky note with a question that made sense—but Ryder would have never thought to ask it. For example:
Witness A reported unidentified third male at campsite—before or after deaths?
Another note was also cryptic—
TOD inconclusive, water temperature near freezing. Witness B reports seeing Brian and Jason on Sunday at sunset by their tent—did they go to the lake Sunday night or Monday morning?
Devereaux had photos from the campsite, but there’d only been one official photo after the boys had disappeared, with their equipment still at the campsite, taken on his cell phone by the ranger who was first contacted after the boys didn’t return. Based on the time stamps and notes, the other photos were taken by Devereaux at a later date.
Brian’s body was found on a rocky shore the Wednesday after their disappearance, but Jason’s body wasn’t discovered for nearly three months until it floated to the surface near the middle of the lake. Devereaux had a map of the lake with two marks indicating where the bodies had been found—substantially far apart.
Scientifically, it didn’t cause Ryder any suspicion. If the boys had been drunk and out on a boat, it might stand to reason that one died faster than the other. Brian could have attempted to swim to the boat or shore, then succumbed to the icy water. While the distance from shore to shore was less than a mile at the widest point, he could have been disorientated.
But several notes related to the boat itself:Why it hadn’t been checked for fingerprints. How it ended up on the opposite shore from Brian’s body.
Ryder’s head pounded. He didn’t like taking pain relievers, but he might have to pop a couple of Tylenol if the throbbing didn’t subside on its own. He’d ask Deputy Redfield if there was a juice bar in town—he thought he’d seen one. Ryder preferred vitamins and diet when fixing what ailed him.
Ryder was not confident he would be able to do what Matt expected of him: to determine if Neil Devereaux had uncovered important evidence that may have led to his death. The accidental deaths were well-documented, and Devereaux’s subsequent investigation hadn’t yielded any additional information that Ryder could see that might be cause to reopen the case.
Ryder flipped through Devereaux’s address book, but his eyes blurred. He squeezed them shut, rubbed them, opened them again. He didn’t feel any better. Something was wrong...
“Tom?” he called out. “I need to step outside.”
Redfield didn’t answer. “Tom?” Ryder called again.
He rose from the chair, immediately felt dizzy as a wave of nausea overcame him. He staggered and fell to his knees. He heard his phone ringing. It was in his pocket, but it sounded like it was ringing underwater.
You’ve been poisoned.
How? If both he and Redfield were ill, that wasn’t food. What was it?
