Page 54 of Twice Missing
Noah's chin dropped. "She never ended up in a lake. Her death was the result of Aiden West."
"Not according to Carl McNeal."
Noah's head snapped up, his eyes meeting Gretchen's. "What are you talking about?"
Gretchen took a deep breath, her expression serious. "Just before I had my heart attack, Carl showed up at my place. Frantic. Acting like he was on drugs or something. He said thatthey didn't know he was there, at my home. But that if they did, they would kill him." Her words came faster now, urgency coloring her tone. "He said he had uncovered some information about Lena's death. Who was really behind it. That's why they let him go. At least, that's what he said. Then they attempted to kill him at his home. He managed to escape."
"Who is 'they'?" Noah asked, leaning forward.
"Ashford's men."
The news hit Noah like a physical blow. "But Aiden said he killed her with fentanyl before he dumped her body to make it look like an accident."
"That is what happened," Gretchen confirmed. "Everything you uncovered that led you to him was correct, but Carl believes the motivation wasn't just to protect his reputation from being known as the son of a man who had solicited minors."
"Then what was it?"
"To keep Lena’s kids alive. Mia and Ethan."
Noah's expression was one of utter confusion. "I don't understand."
Gretchen's voice lowered, as if afraid of being overheard. "Carl said he could tell you more, but he wanted full protection. He wanted you to arrange some way that they couldn't get to him. He asked me to tell you that he was going to meet you this evening at six, but with all that happened, me arriving here and..." She trailed off, letting out an exasperated breath.
Noah rose to his feet, glancing at his watch. It was almost midnight. His mind was racing, trying to process this new information and its implications.
"Noah," Gretchen called out as he turned to leave. "Be careful, son."
He nodded, his expression grim as he left the room. In the hallway, he pulled out his phone, quickly dialing the number for Adirondack Correctional Facility. As he waited for the connection, his mind whirled with possibilities. What did Carl know? How did it connect to the current case? And most importantly, was Aiden West the key to unraveling this entire mystery?
The voice on the other end of the line jolted him back to reality. Noah quickly provided his identification and requested to speak with Aiden West.
"I'm sorry, we're unable to do that," the guard replied, his tone matter-of-fact.
Noah's frustration bubbled to the surface. "What? Do I need to come down there?"
"That wouldn't change matters."
"Why not?"
The guard's next words hit Noah like a punch to the gut. "Because Aiden West died last night. He was found in his cell this morning. He took his own life. County was called. I thought you would have been updated."
"No," Noah managed, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah, he used the bed sheets. His cellmate returned after breakfast to find him that way."
Noah staggered back, leaning against the wall for support. The rest of the guard's words faded into white noise as his mind grappled with this new development. Almost immediately, doubt crept in. Was this really suicide? Or had someone gotten to Aiden?
21
The inky night enveloped Hugh Sutherland as he arrived home. The twinkling Christmas lights across High Peaks Lake seemed less joyful with the darkness settling in his heart. The garage door of his waterfront property yawned open, swallowing his jet-black BMW M8 Competition Gran Coupe. As the engine purred its last notes before falling silent, Hugh sat motionless, the weight of the day's events pressing down on him like a physical force.
Though he had been retired as Adirondack County sheriff for years, Hugh's life remained a whirlwind of activity. It was better that way, he told himself. Keeping busy meant less time to dwell on the past or confront the realities of the present. The day had been spent at the hospital, anxiously awaiting news of Gretchen's condition. Only after assurance of her stability did he allow himself to return home, his mind already racing ahead to tomorrow'searly meeting with Luther Ashford — another "bump in the road" to smooth over.
Hugh sighed heavily, the sound echoing in the confines of his luxury car. "I'm getting too old for this shit," he muttered, the words hanging in the air like a confession.
Keys jangling in his hand, Hugh exited the car, his movements betraying a weariness that seemed bone-deep. "Alexa, turn the lights on," he commanded as he entered the house. The hallway illuminated, casting long shadows as Hugh methodically removed his boots and coat, each action a practiced ritual.
The kitchen lay ahead, a promise of solace in its familiar confines. Another command to Alexa, and light flooded the space, revealing its pristine emptiness. Hugh made his way to the fridge, the soft hum of the appliance a counterpoint to the silence of the house. As he reached for a cold beer, a reflection in the stainless-steel door caused him to start, nearly dropping the bottle as he whirled around.
