Page 51 of Never Flinch

“Did any of the Scouts hear the shots?”

“Their campsite was a mile deeper into the park. The kids were all singing around the campfire or asleep, I assume. One of the adults with them—I guess the Scoutmaster—said he thought he heard a car backfiring. That could have been gunshots. Probably was.”

“You found a name in Mr. Sinclair’s hand, I take it.”

“Well, not me personally. The State Police who responded to the Scoutmaster’s 911 call found it on the floor of the Porta-John. Fell out of his hand. Steven Furst. Another juror.”

“Same gun used?”

“Too early for the forensics, but based on the pictures the Staties sent me, Sinclair got it with a small-caliber weapon, almost certainly the same .22 he used on the others. The guy in Tapperville, Rafferty, was shot with a different gun, larger caliber, probably a .38. The county cops are still investigating it as a robbery-murder. In which case, their Briggs and our Bill W. aren’t the same man.”

“It is, though,” Holly says, almost absently. “Briggs brought a different gun to use on Rafferty, that’s all. Tried to make it look like a robbery. Total premeditation. This guy is smart, Iz. The question is why, since he didn’t leave a juror’s name.”

“I know.” Izzy sighs. “Then there’s Buckeye Brandon.”

“Jerome told me.”

Buckeye Brandon, who sometimes refers to himself as the Great BB, or the Outlaw Podcaster, mostly specializes in gossip, political dirt, and whoop-de-do scandals on his blog and podcast. He favors the moneyed class living in Sugar Heights or The Oaks. He also dishes on crime.

“He’s calling it the Surrogate Juror Murders, and I’m afraid it’s going to catch on.”

“Does he know about Fred Sinclair?”

“Oh yes. Bad news travels fast. Not about the note with Furst’s name on it, at least not yet, but he’s already speculating it may be related to the others. If I could find the person leaking this stuff, I’d happily tear him a new asshole.”

“He could have done it himself,” Holly says.

“What? Who?”

“Bill W. Or Briggs, if that’s his real name. He wants people to know. He wants thejurorsto know. And the judge. And ADA Allen. He wants them eaten up with guilt. He wrote to your Chief and your lieutenant, announcing what he meant to do beforehand.”

“True enough,” Izzy says, and sighs.

“He could have called BB. I bet he did. The more legitimate news outlets would have a problem giving publicity to a killer.”

“Then why didn’t Brandonsayhe called him? I’d think that was right up his alley—telling his audience he has a direct line to the killer.”

“Briggs might have told him not to, if he wants him to continue staying in contact.”

“I have to split, Holly. Tom and I are going out to Glenn Park. It’s technically out of our jurisdiction, but the Staties want to make sure we’re holding this baby, too. Let me know if Jerome and Ackerly come up with anything.”

“Absolutely.”

“Are you in Iowa City?”

“Yes.”

“Go, you,” Izzy says.

“Thank you.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I know,” Holly says. “Would I be belaboring the obvious to say that Bill W. is speeding up?”

“You would indeed be belaboring it.”

“Catch him as fast as you can, Izzy, because he really means to carry through with his plan. Which he probably thinks of as hismission. He’s dangerous because he thinks he’s sane.” She pauses. “To belabor something else that’s obvious, he’s not.”

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