Cold Sight (39 page)

“What else?” she asked.

“When he comes back, Taylor’s going to hit him and take his keys so they can get away.”

That was all he had, all he’d gotten. But the joy in her face in just knowing that they weren’t too late, and the missing girls still lived, said it was enough for this moment, anyway.

He reached for the door handle, opened the door, and stepped out into the evening air, breathing deeply of it, needing to clear his head and fill his lungs, which had seemed to inhale nothing but mildew and filth.

That’s what they’re breathing.

He forced the thought away. “What happened in there?”

“Underwood cracked,” she told him, her pretty face grimacing with distaste under the overhead streetlight. “When Dunston confronted him about Coach White, he completely broke down, admitted the man was a little crazy, had an awful violent streak, and killed one of the girls before they could stop him. They knew they’d all be blamed, so they helped him cover it up.”

Aidan had a suspicion about what had happened next. “Then they got rid of White.”

One brow shot up. “Seriously? You really believe they killed him?”

He definitely thought so. “Pretty big coincidence, don’t you think? Their biggest liability dies in a single-car accident right after they help him hide his mess?”

“Maybe.”

“I doubt all twenty or so men in that club were in on it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if a few of them—the ones Underwood sounded afraid of, who he called ‘dangerous’—took it upon themselves to make sure something like that didn’t happen again.”

“Not to protect the girls, I’m sure,” she said in disgust, “but to protect their precious club.”

Crossing his arms, he leaned his back against his SUV. “The question is, if White killed Jessie, and then White died, who started killing the other girls six months later?”

“That’s what Underwood wants to know,” she told him, leaning beside him. “He gave Chief Dunston the list of members, and said they’ve been living in fear ever since they read my articles last month and realized how the girls were connected.” She sighed heavily, shaking her head. “And the bastard admitted there have been some strange things going on at their club for a while. Items left onsite, between their regular get-togethers—underclothes, a backpack with one of the girls’ names in it. Things like that.”

He wanted to go find Underwood and throttle the man. “So they
knew
. They’ve known for a long time these murders were connected to what they’ve been doing and they didn’t do a damn thing to stop it.”

“Not only that, they still went out there intending to have one of their parties last night,” she said, sounding as anxious to hurt someone as he felt.

“And it all comes back to White. He’s the link.”

“Exactly,” she said. She wrapped her arms around herself as the evening air grew chilly. “Underwood thinks somebody found out about him and decided to play some mind games.”

“Which essentially confirms that they killed him.”

She thought about it, then slowly nodded. “Yeah. I guess it probably does.”

If that was what they were dealing with here, the killer had to be someone close to White, someone who had taken his death personally. Someone with a dark enough soul to take his revenge by committing atrocities against innocent girls, just to make his enemies squirm.

“But who would it be?” she asked. “From what Dunston just told me, White was a bachelor, never married, no kids, no siblings, parents both dead. He lived alone in an old farmhouse just outside of town, the same house where he grew up. He was born and raised here, but he didn’t seem to have many friends. So who would commit murder to avenge him?”

Excellent question. Who would care?

They fell silent for a moment. Sensing her shiver again, Aidan reached for her, dropping an arm over her shoulders and pulling her tight to suck up some of his warmth. Both physically and emotionally.

She felt good there. Damn good. Not for the first time, he realized how glad he was to have her beside him, with him on this. Lexie was smart and quick; every idea he raised she bounced back with a new element added to it.

They made a hell of a good team.

“Okay. So we need to learn everything we can about White,” Aidan said. “Immediately.”

She nodded. “Dunston took Underwood over to the station. I guess he’s finished playing around with us and is going to make this official. Let’s go inside and see what we can discover online about the late coach.”

Agreeing, he walked with her, his arm still across her shoulders. But before going in, he paused to pull his phone out of his pocket. “Let me give Julia a call and let her know what’s going on.”

Reaching Julia on the second ring, he filled her in on what had happened with Dunston, and with his own vision. He told her they could stop what they’d been doing out at the old house, adding, “I don’t think there’s any more we can learn from that place tonight. The chief knows the truth about Jessie, and hopefully tomorrow he’ll be out there bringing that poor girl’s remains up into the light.”

“It’s about time,” Julia murmured, sounding relieved.

She also sounded tired—and, after a little prodding, admitted Derek and Mick were wiped out, too.

“Why don’t you swing by my place, get Olivia, and head home? You’re less than an hour away. If we turn anything up, we’ll call you back down,” he told her.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. It might be hours before we know more. Go get some sleep while you can. We might need you later.”

“Okay,” she said. “But call the minute you find anything. We’ll be ready to come back as soon as we hear from you.”

“Thanks.”

He disconnected and they went inside. Kenny, the maintenance man, was obviously still around; the men’s room door stood open, propped by a mop cart. Otherwise, they had the building to themselves.

“Walter’s got the only decent computer,” Lexie said, heading straight for that office.

Once there, she took a seat behind the man’s desk. Aidan saw her close her eyes briefly and clasp the chair’s armrests. Seeing the family photo on the desk, Walter and his beautiful wife and daughters, he understood why.

Squaring her shoulders, focusing on the task of now rather than the grief of tomorrow, Lexie got to work. Her fingers flew over the keys as she got online, pulling up the archives of her own newspaper. “Here’s his obituary.” She didn’t waste time having him read it over her shoulder, sending the page to a printer instead. Once it had started, she moved on, letting Aidan grab the printout and read it for himself.

Everything was as she’d already said, at least some of the story printed in black and white. A tragic, fiery accident had ended the life of a local man. What it didn’t say was that he was a brutal one who’d raped and murdered a young girl.

Justice, some would say. In any case, who would mourn him? Who would avenge him? An angry student he’d once coached? A best friend who shared his sick tastes? “I can’t figure out whether the killer is someone who was in the club or not.”

Lexie looked up in surprise. “You think he could be one of them? Why would he plan this elaborate revenge that would bring attention and exposure to himself, as well as everyone else? If he’s in the club, and knows who took White out, why not just kill the men responsible?”

“I’m not saying that’s the case, but if he’s not a member, how else would he know exactly which girls to go after?”

“He waited six months. Maybe he did some research.”

“Or,” Aidan mused, “maybe it took him that long to realize White’s death wasn’t an accident.”

She pursed her lips, thinking about it, nodding. There really was no way to be sure yet.

“What else have you got?” he asked her, knowing they needed to focus on what they could find out. “Anything on his family?”

“Jed White’s obituary listed his parents’ names—I found a death notice on his mother, who died when he was only a year old. There’s a full obit on the father, who was killed in some kind of accident right after the son turned twenty-one. That was two decades ago. County property records show White inherited the father’s house and lived there until his own death.”

“Then what happened to it? Did he leave it to anyone else?”

She checked the screen. “Sold at auction. Guess the perv wasn’t big on paying his taxes.”

Damn. “The man had to have friends, someone he was close to outside of the Hellfire Club. We need to talk to people who worked with him, his students.”

“Why don’t you talk to his brother?”

Aidan and Lexie both swung around, shocked as a strange voice intruded. They were equally shocked by the words he’d said.

Kenny stood in the doorway, his mop in his hands. Though the scars made his expressions hard to read, there was no hiding the tension in his pose.

“What do you mean?” Lexie asked, rising from the desk. “Coach White didn’t have a brother.”

“Sure he did.” Kenny frowned, then scrunched his eyes closed. “Uhh . . . oh, boy, my brain just doesn’t wanna work right. Can’t recall his name.”

Walking over, Lexie put a hand on the man’s shoulder and led him to a chair. “Did you know Mr. White, Kenny?”

He nodded as he took a seat. “Went to school with ’im. Jed was quiet, cried a lot, and got picked on. But his big brother was a real bully.”

“We can’t find any mention of a brother anywhere.”

“Are you sure?” Kenny’s face scrunched up as he thought. “I coulda
swore
he had one. But I guess maybe I could be wrong. I get confused sometimes. It was a long time ago.”

A brother, not mentioned anywhere? Was that possible?

Kenny’s frown deepened as his frustration grew. “Maybe it was a cousin? I’m so stupid, I never get anything right!”

“Give it a minute.” Aidan walked over to stand on the other side of Kenny’s chair. “Don’t concentrate too hard, just let it come.”

The maintenance man sniffled. “Been thinking hard all day, ’bout Miss Taylor and Miss Jenny.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“Rascals, the two of ’em,” he whispered.“The way they’d switch places. I knew right away Miss Taylor swapped with Miss Jenny last Monday. Lordy, was I thankful to hear she was okay after I heard the one she walked out with got grabbed by the Ghoul.” He wiped his nose with his sleeve. “Never dreamed he’d get her a few days later.”

Lexie tilted her head in confusion. “Wait, you’re saying you saw
Taylor
at school Monday night? With Vonnie Jackson?”

“Yeah. Swapped places, they did. I was cleaning up after the meeting and saw her. No mistakin’ Miss Taylor’s smile, even if she was calling herself Jenny.”

Shocked, Aidan had to wonder what this could mean.

Kenny continued. “When I heard what happened to them girls, I got to thinking about it. Wondering if maybe the Ghoul was afraid Miss Taylor’d seen him and that’s why he took her.”

Aidan could only stare at the man, so often ignored and overlooked by those around him. His ears and eyes were always open, though, picking up truths and tidbits others would never notice. Because, of course, what he said was a possibility. They’d all been focused on where Vonnie had been grabbed—in the Boro, where her books had been found—they hadn’t considered that she might have been stalked while still at her own school.

What if Taylor had seen something? Or if the killer
thought
she had?

Kenny lifted both his hands to his head and pressed them there, tangling his fingers in his hair. “Think, dummy, think,” he told himself, looking on the verge of tears.

Lexie bit her lip, obviously, hating to see the man torment himself. But she knew as well as Aidan that he might have information that could be the key to solving this. To saving the girls.

Unfortunately, it appeared that the harder he pushed, the more elusive the memory became. Finally, grunting in frustration, the poor man threw himself into a chair, pounding his fists on his own thighs.

“It’s okay,” Aidan said, soothing and calm. “It’s all right. Just sit quietly for a minute, okay? Don’t try to talk; don’t tell us what you’re seeing. Just try to let the memories of those younger days when you knew Jed and his
brother
float free. Don’t try to catch them; just let them go.”

He glanced at Lexie, who apparently realized what he was doing. She didn’t hesitate, she merely nodded, agreeing that he should do whatever he could to share in this poor, wrecked man’s memories.

Kenny did as Aidan asked, remaining quiet, his eyes falling closed. Sitting opposite him, Aidan breathed deeply, allowing his body to fall into a familiar, relaxed state. He stared at Kenny’s poor face, not allowing himself to wonder how it had become that way, then focused, hard, on what the other man had looked like when he was younger. Before his accident. When he was twenty. Fifteen. Ten.

Finally, he closed his eyes as well, falling into Kenny’s past.

The man held nothing back. He might not be able to grab the hints of memory from the deep recesses of his brain, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Aidan watched as they emerged, taking shape in the foggy mist that appeared behind his closed eyelids.

Kenny might not be able to verbalize them, but Aidan saw them. Heard them.

Why don’t you watch where you’re goin’, retard?
A cruel voice. A youngster’s voice.

Kenny, crying. Asking the other boys not to take his lunch money. Not to hide his books. Not to laugh at him in gym class.

Aidan’s heart twisted, but he didn’t let himself dwell on the wrongs done to this poor man in his childhood, or how unjust it was that he now bore a scarred face inviting even more ridicule. Because through it all, Kenny’s kindheartedness remained clear.

That kindness included his worry over a classmate who always came to school bruised and sad. Jed, who sat beside Kenny in Mrs. Finkelstein’s first-grade class.

Stop crying, Jed!
The bully’s voice again. Only this time, it wasn’t sneering or vicious; it sounded almost . . . tender.
Don’t let anybody see you cry. Not ever. I’ll take care of you.