The Butcher (10 page)

“Wow.” Sam didn't know what to say for a moment. Bonnie stayed quiet, allowing time to let everything sink in. After a long silence, Sam said, “Robert Sanchez was one of the police officers who notified you. He's the one who was first on the scene.”

“That's right.” Bonnie looked surprised. “How do you remember that? You were just a toddler.”

“He's kept tabs on me over the years. Made sure I was never mistreated at any of the foster homes I lived in. He's been a good friend, pretty much the closest thing I've had to a parent.”

“It eats at me, you know,” Bonnie said, her eyes moist. “The guilt. Wondering if I did the right thing. What if I had called the police right away? What if they'd found her before she was murdered? But I didn't call, and she died.”

Sam wasn't sure how she felt about this, either, but it wouldn't help either of them to say so. Instead she put a hand on the older woman's arm. “You didn't call because you were protecting me. You weren't sure what happened, and you didn't want anyone to take me away from my mother. I understand.”

Another small silence fell between them. Gathering her thoughts, Sam said, “How do you know the man at the McDonald's was the man who killed my mother?”

“Because he tried to kill me, too. Two days after they found your mom. He was waiting for me outside the restaurant, and he grabbed me. Stuck a rag over my face with something that stank really bad.”

“Oh my God.” Sam put a hand over her mouth, horrified. “Chloroform?”

“Whatever it was, it knocked me out.” Bonnie shuddered. “When I came to, I was in the woods somewhere. I had no idea how much time had passed, but it was cold and dark, and when I realized he was on top of me, I tried to scream. But he'd stuffed something in my mouth and I couldn't make a sound. That was when he held up the cleaver, and he put it right in my face. The light from the moon caught it and I saw how sharp the blade was, and I wet myself.” It took Bonnie a moment to catch her breath. “He didn't cut my hand off, though. Obviously. It's like he knew he couldn't, because the Butcher was supposed to be dead. It's probably why he didn't chop off Sarah's, either. But he sure as hell wanted me to see it. He asked if I knew who he was. I said I did, and he smiled.”

“But you got away,” Sam whispered. “Holy shit.”

“Pure luck. If you can believe it, there was a bear.”

“A
what
?” Sam wasn't sure she heard her correctly.

The older woman nodded, her hands moving to her throat. Finding her pendant, she rolled it between two fingers. “You heard me right. There was a bear, of all things. Not so crazy when you think about how we were in the woods, but crazy because of the timing. A giant black bear just came out of nowhere. I remember hearing the dried leaves crunching under its feet. It just came sauntering out, and then it stopped and sniffed a tree about twenty feet away. The Butcher, he froze when he saw it, and whispered to me not to move, that it would maul us if I did. But what did I care? I was about to be carved up anyway, and I started freaking out. I started kicking, squirming, screaming. It caught the bear's attention because it started walking toward us. That's when the Butcher rolled off me. And as soon as he did, I got to my feet and ran like hell.”

Her eyes misted over. “I'm not religious, but sometimes I swear that bear was God.” She held up the little gold bear and the pendant glinted in the soft living room light. The choice of jewelry now made sense.

Sam, who wasn't religious, either, nodded. “I don't blame you. I probably would, too.”

“The Butcher didn't chase me. I wasn't sure what happened to him, but I prayed the bear had mauled him. I found the road and hitched a ride to a friend's house, because I knew if he wasn't dead, he'd come looking for me. I hid out there the whole next day, trying to figure out what to do. I was scared to leave the house, too scared to even go to the police station because I was sure he'd grab me again. And then . . . I saw him on the news. And that's when I learned the Butcher's real identity. Thirty minutes later, I was on a bus out of town.”

“You saw him on the news?” Sam said, sitting up straighter. “So was he killed by the bear?”

“Oh no, he was fine. He was on the news for completely different reasons.” Bonnie's lip curled up in disgust. “He was always on the news. People believed he was a hero.”

“Tell me his name.” Sam's phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at it but made no move to pick it up. “Please. Tell me.”

Bonnie hesitated. The phone continued to vibrate. “Answer your phone first.”

Holding back her frustration, Sam reached for her phone and answered the call. “Hey, Jase. It's not a good time. Let me call you back.”

“Wait, everything going okay?” Jason said. She could hear
SportsCenter
on in the background and it sounded like her friend was chewing something. Whatever it was, he swallowed it. “Just making sure the redhead hasn't poisoned you and you're not on your living room floor, writhing in pain.”

Despite the intensity of the last few minutes, Sam couldn't help but chuckle. “With an imagination like that, you should be the writer. No, we're good here. Just catching up. Lots to talk about. I'll call you later, okay?”

“Want me to come by later?”

“Sure. I'll call you.”

They disconnected. Bonnie smiled at her. “Sweet of him to call. Are you sure you're dating the right guy? Jason sure seems sweet on you.”

Sam felt her face grow hot. “Now you sound like Matt. Jase and I are just really good friends, I swear. So, about the Butcher—”

“What does Jason do now?”

Sam gritted her teeth, stifling a sigh. Obviously Bonnie wasn't going to tell her the Butcher's name until she was good and ready. She forced a smile. “A
bunch of different things. He owns some real estate, and has a few endorsement deals. He guest commentates on ESPN once in a while.”

“And it's Matt who has the restaurant?”

“Yes, he's a chef. He opened up his restaurant about two years ago, after he'd had a lot of success with his food trucks.” Despite her anxiety, Sam felt herself puff with pride. “He's also about to star in his own reality show on the Fresh Network.”

“Wow!” Bonnie was suitably impressed. “I should check out his restaurant while I'm in town. What's it called?”

“Adobo,” Sam said, spelling it for her. “I'd be happy to take you there for dinner before you go home. And Matt's last name is Shank, if you want to look him up. He's kind of a local celebrity. Now, what was it we were talking about before—”

“I'm sorry, what?” Bonnie froze. “His last name is Shank?”

“Yes. You've heard of him?”

“I . . .” Bonnie looked pale. She set her wineglass down on the side table with a shaking hand. “Actually, the last name sounds very familiar. What does his family do?”

“He was raised by his grandparents, actually,” Sam said, not sure why Bonnie seemed so freaked out all of a sudden. Then she slapped her forehead. “Jesus, I can't believe I didn't mention this to you earlier. Matt's grandfather is the former chief of police of Seattle, Edward Shank. The one who brought down the Butcher. Obviously you've heard of him.
Duh
. Everybody knows who the Chief is.”

“Oh, I've heard of him.” Bonnie's voice was tight. “I definitely know who he is.”

“He'd probably love to meet you. Obviously he's long retired, but he still has a fascination with true crime.”

“Bet he does.” The older woman shifted uneasily on the sofa. “A man like that, probably can't get it out of his system.”

“I can't believe I didn't tell you that right off the bat.” Sam shook her head. “It's just that we got caught up talking about my mom, and somehow it slipped my mind. So you see, I do have connections. If I can prove Wedge wasn't the real Butcher, I know Edward will pull strings to reopen the investigation. He's not chief of police anymore, but he still commands a lot of respect around here. The mayor and current chief of police both used to work for him.”

Bonnie smiled, but it didn't touch her eyes, and every inch of her body seemed tense. “It's okay, honey. I don't blame you for not thinking of it. When we met on the forum, we were both trying to stay anonymous, and you telling me that your boyfriend's grandfather is the former chief of police might have given away your identity. And obviously, once you found out my relationship to your mom, it wasn't exactly the first thing on your mind.” The older woman twirled a lock of auburn hair around her finger, and it appeared she was thinking very hard about something. Finally she said carefully, “So tell me, does Matt's grandfather know what you think? About Sarah and the Butcher?”

Sam nodded. “We've discussed it. A lot. And of course he thinks I'm full of shit, but he tolerates my questions, thank God. However, if I had a name to give him that he could check out . . .”

Bonnie took a deep breath and sat back. “Actually, Sam, I don't think I can tell you. I'm not sure it's a good idea.”

“You're joking,” Sam said in disbelief. “But I thought you came here to—”

“I think I've told you too much already. Dammit, had I known . . .” Bonnie stood up, looking flustered. “You know what, I should go. And
I think you should let this go, Sam. Maybe write about something else.” She looked around. “Now where did I leave my purse . . .”

“What in the hell are you talking about?” Sam knew her tone was rude, but she couldn't conceal either her confusion or her frustration. Why was Bonnie freezing up all of the sudden? They were just about to get to the important part of the conversation, which was the Butcher's real identity. “You've told me everything else already, so why not tell me the Butcher's name? I thought you wanted justice. I can do something about it, you know. It's not just Edward. I have personal contacts at Seattle PD. I can call Detective Sanchez right now—”

“I changed my mind.”

“You changed your mind?”
Sam was on her feet now too, incredulous. She glared at the older woman. “Are you serious? That's incredibly unfair, Bonnie. You can't come here, to my house, and give me all this information about my mom, and then decide you've changed your goddamned mind. I need answers. I need to know who the Butcher is. It's not fair for you to keep that information from me.” Sam crossed her arms over her chest. She was shouting, but at this point, she didn't care. “You don't have the right.”

“I'm scared, okay?” Bonnie's face was white, a mask of anguish. It was obvious the woman was totally spooked. “I'm scared. Please, Samantha. Just let it go. I'm not ready.”

“I don't care if you're scared, and I don't care if you're not ready.” Sam's voice was tight. “This isn't about you. The information you have isn't yours to withhold. I need to know.”

“The only thing you need to know is that your mother loved you.” The older woman's voice broke. “With all her heart, she loved you, and she would be so proud of the woman you've become.”

“That's sweet of you, but goddammit, who killed her?”

Bonnie ignored the question. Plucking her purse from the floor where she'd dropped it, she headed for the front door. “When I get back to Sacramento, I'll send you those pictures, okay? You should have them.”

“Bonnie, who killed her, goddammit?”

The older woman shook her head and reached for the doorknob.

“Bonnie, don't go. Please.” Not knowing what else to do, Sam burst into tears, more out of sheer helplessness than anything else.

The older woman turned back and grabbed her in a tight hug. “It's better this way, Dumpling. You need to trust me. Whatever I do next, I don't want you involved. Sarah wouldn't want that, either. You have to trust me.”

“I don't understand any of this.” Sam's voice was shaking. “Why now? Why'd you even want to meet with me if you weren't prepared to tell the truth?”

“Like I said, I changed my mind.” Bonnie's eyes were moist but her tone was firm. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I don't know what else to say.”

Sam went over to her purse and fished around, then pulled out a business card. “This is Sanchez's number. If you won't talk to me, will you talk to him?”

“I don't know.”

“Take the card, please. And just think about it.”

Bonnie took it and slipped it into her purse. “I'll think about it. I should get back to the hotel.”

“Just let me get my purse. I'll drive you.”

Bonnie wiped away a tear. “Sam, I know I don't have the right to ask, but will you keep this conversation between us?”

“Who would I tell?” Sam said, more confused than ever. She grabbed her purse from the sofa. “You haven't given me anything to go
on. Sanchez isn't going to want to hear from me unless I have an actual name to give him.”

“What I mean is, I don't want you to say anything to anyone,” Bonnie said. “Okay? Can you give me your word? Just wait for me to figure it out. I promise I will.”

“I don't have anything to tell, because you haven't told me anything,” Sam snapped, reaching for her keys. “But I won't mention to anyone that we met. Can you at least tell me one thing first?”

“Sure. What's that?” The older woman sounded relieved.

Sam looked Bonnie directly in the eyes. “Is the Butcher still alive?”

“Yes. Very much so.” Bonnie's face darkened. “You of all people should know, Sam. You've studied it enough. Monsters like that don't die unless they're killed.”

*   *   *

Edward watched as Samantha left the house with the red-haired woman, the two of them getting into her car. After his conversation with Matthew, he thought it might be a good idea to drop in on the kid's girlfriend. While he didn't really think Matthew would say anything to anyone about the crate, he
had
been drinking a lot lately, and something could have slipped out. Edward wanted to be prepared. After all, Samantha had her own agenda. Didn't everyone?