Page 39 of Hunting the Crossbow Killer

Someone else pulled the plug on her ventilator.

The nurse had gone home for the day, leaving Elly’s care to Aidan.

But Aidan wasn’t the only person in the house after she left.

Aidan’s words, just moments ago, flitted through her mind.

“He didn’t… He was too… Elly’s death isn’t his fault.”

She filled in the missing words that he hadn’t said.

He didn’tunderstand what he was doing. He was tooyoung. Elly’s death isn’t his fault.

She stared at him, the last of it becoming clear. “The hate mail,” she whispered. “Elly’s parents found out about it, read the letters. And then they knew the truth. That’s why they wanted to help you, but didn’t want the police to reinvestigate.”

He squeezed his hands into fists on top of the table and bowed his head.

“Niall,” she said. “Your son. He pulled the plug. He killed Elly and now he wants to kill you to keep the truth from coming out.”

He jerked his head up, frowning. “He was five years old, Grace. He doesn’t even remember doing it. He remembers bits and pieces, just enough from that day to have made Elly’s parents suspicious that something was off because what he said didn’t match what I said. That’s why they visited me years later, trying to understand what really happened.”

“And that’s why they supported your parole.”

He nodded.

“Why not just tell the truth from the beginning? No one’s going to prosecute a five-year-old child for pulling a cord out of a wall. He didn’t realize what he was doing.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Then explain it to me. If your son isn’t here to keep you from telling the truth, then he must be here for payback, revenge for killing his mom, right? After you were paroled, he must have gone on a hunt or maybe even hired a private investigator to find out where you were. Then he came after you. If that’s the case, then why protect him?”

“Because he’s my son.” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat.

She stared at him as the truth came out, more shaken than she cared to admit. After a few calming breaths, she continued, determined to get the whole story, finally.

“Okay. I get that. I really do. I get that you want to protect him now, here as the copycat, to keep him from going to prison. I don’t agree with it. But I understand it. What still confuses me is why you confessed to your wife’s murder when it would have been so simple to tell the truth that your five-year-old son accidentally pulled the plug on her machine.”

“Like I said,” his voice was raw, strained. “It’s more complicated than that. For one thing, I didn’t want Niall to grow up knowing he’d helped to kill his own mother. It could have destroyed his life.”

“Wait. Helped? I don’t… Are you saying that you—”

“No.” He shook his head. “No, Grace. You’ve been right all along about that. I never would have done anything to hurt Elly. I didn’t go to prison just to protect my son. I went to prison because—”

The door to the conference room burst open, startling both of them. Fletcher entered the room, holding a piece of paper.

Grace swore. “Fletcher, we’re in the middle of something here—”

“I know. Collier told me. My lunch date canceled and I came back to work on that list we talked about. You didn’t even notice I was in the squad room because of whatever you two are talking so intently about in here.” She gave Aidan the kind of look that someone would give a bug crawling across the floor right before they squashed it. Or a police officer would give to a man they believed had committed murder.

Fletcher pitched the piece of paper onto the table in front of him. “That’s a summary of visitor log entries from your time in prison, all ten years. Malone reviewed them, trying to figure out who has it out for you. But she didn’t realize something that you and I know—that one of the people on that list visited you several times in the early years of your incarceration, and again the day of your parole hearing. Malone didn’t realize the significance because she didn’t recognize the name, probably hadn’t had time to research it yet. But you and I know that your visitor got married after moving to Mystic Lake. So tell me, why did Stella Simmons, married name Stella Holman, visit you in prison?”

His eyes narrowed at her, his jaw tight.

Grace flattened her palms on top of the table. “Wait, Stella and Aidan were friends before he went to prison?”

Fletcher’s brows shot up. “Since when did you start calling him by his first name?”

Grace’s face heated. “You’ve heard of building rapport with someone you’re interviewing, right?”

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