Page 65 of A Deeper Darkness
“No. It’s been years. Heard he went out in the woods somewhere, and didn’t come back. Sometimes war does that to a man. The regular world doesn’t make sense anymore….”
“Is there any reason he might hold a grudge against Raptor? Or against you?”
Culpepper was quiet for a moment. “Not that I know of. But anything’s possible. Are you saying…? Do you think he’s responsible? Could I be in danger?”
“Like you said, anything’s possible. I know you’re leaving the country tomorrow, but I’d be extra careful with my security if I were you.”
“Understood.”
“Good. One last question. Could Donovan have had a separate phone that was issued to him through Raptor, outside of his BlackBerry?”
“Not issued through Raptor, no. We give them the BlackBerry, and a laptop, it’s all paid for, but that’s it. Now, our overseas operators have satellite phones, and if he were ever traveling outside the U.S., he’d be issued one. But he hasn’t been traveling outside our borders lately. We keep the electronics on a tight leash, as you can imagine. The Pentagon would be pissed if we let something like that slide.”
They shared a strained laugh. “I can imagine. Okay. There is one last thing.”
“Anything, son.”
Son. Disarming. Personal.
“You didn’t mention that you’d commanded Donovan overseas.”
There was a beat pause. “I thought you knew that already. It’s not a secret.”
“I see. And the rest of the men from the unit? They were all your soldiers, correct?”
“My soldiers. Yes, they were. We were like a family—and even though many of us had gone our separate ways, they all feel like sons to me. So you can imagine how upset I am at their senseless loss. Will that be all, Detective?”
“I’m sorry to have to share this news with you over the phone, but we’ve found William Everett’s body. He appears to have committed suicide.”
“Oh, dear God. Another?”
“Yes, sir. My condolences.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone, and Fletcher waited a few moments before speaking again.
“Colonel? I’m sorry, but I need to go. Again, please accept my deepest condolences on your loss.”
“Yes. Thank you. Please, if you find anything…”
Fletcher could swear he heard tears in the old soldier’s voice. He didn’t know why that felt wrong, somehow.
“Of course,” Fletcher replied, and hung up. He called Hart next, told him the developments and asked him to come back in. Hart didn’t mind. He said he’d meet him in an hour downtown.
Fletcher made a few calls, initiated some checks on Culpepper’s background, but still had some time to kill. And he was right around the corner from the Croswell crime scene.
That whole thing seemed hinky to him. The 9-1-1 call on Croswell’s murder was done anonymously, from a prepaid cell phone. Croswell’s cell phone also had a call from a blocked number, at 6:50 p.m. on the day of his death. And Donovan had received a call, too. If Fletcher was a betting man, he’d say the same disposable phone made all three calls, but it was going to take time to prove that theory.
And so far, they’d been unable to tie Croswell to the Emerson house. Calls to Mrs. Emerson had yielded exactly squat. She’d never heard of Harold Croswell. She was horrified that a murder had happened in her house, was winging her way home to deal with the crime scene cleaners and the rest of the craziness that ensued. She was being incredibly cooperative. Fletcher’s instincts said she was telling the truth.
So why there? What was so important about that house?
Someone must have known that it stood empty.
Yesterday, when Fletcher and Hart had recanvassed the neighborhood where Harold Croswell was murdered, there were more people gone than home. Maybe at this time of day, there’d be a few folks around who might have seen something.
It only took five minutes to drive to the scene of the second murder.
The sun was going to set shortly. Pink clouds edged in gold billowed through the sky, and the street was bathed in a rosy glow. Children played on the sidewalks. Parents stood in front of the town houses, keeping a close eye on them while catching up with the neighbors. It was a cozy little scene, one that immediately became curious. Stares followed him as his car rolled down the street. By now, everyone who lived nearby knew that a murder had been committed just a few houses away. It had to be unnerving. He was counting on that to loosen some tongues.
