Page 105 of The Whispering Girls
“There’re more facts than you realize. But…there’s a possibility that Jack may have killed his sister. For what reason, I don’t know. There could be a lot of reasons: accident, jealousy, maybe inheriting this building so he wouldn’t have to share it.” She thought back to her encounters with him and their conversations, trying to string together something solid.
McGaven took a step back. “Who killed the girls? And why? Jack?”
“Could be. Maybe the chief killed his wife and Jack knew about it, so he was going to make him pay.” Katie was frustrated. “But how does all this translate to the five homicides here? There’s something we’re missing…” She recalled what the chief had said on the phone the last time they had spoken to him. He’d seemed spooked before the phone disconnected and wanted them to know he was sorry.
I know what’s been going on and I’m sorry that…
“What are you thinking?” McGaven said.
“Just that the chief seemed desperate to tell us something. I don’t think he’s the killer. Why would he kill his wife’s children? No way, it doesn’t fit.”
Katie slowly went through the paperwork again. McGaven took a second look as well.
“I know we’re missing something huge that hasn’t been revealed yet,” she said. “And it’s always bothered me that Jack was doing forensic duties at crime scenes. Why?”
“Look at this crime beat from fifteen years ago. It mentioned there was a suspected serial killer and that Carol Ann might have been one of their victims. But there’s no other information.”
“Grasping at straws.” Katie turned to her partner. “Can you do some searches on unsolved murders with the same MO and signature as the victims here?”
“I’ll do what I can with the intermittent internet signal. What areas?”
“Here, and then fan out to nearby counties and then statewide if you get that far.”
“On it,” he said. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to search Jack’s personal files. His taxes, business stuff, holdings, and so forth. Not sure what I’m looking for.” Her expression was grim as she worried about John.
“We’re going to find him,” said McGaven as if he read his partner’s thoughts.
“I know,” she said. Although she wasn’t so sure, and the thought of losing him hurt her soul, but it also pushed her forward.
McGaven left.
“C’mon, Cisco, let’s go find you some doggie treats first.” Katie went into one of the examination rooms looking for a jar of dog biscuits. “Here we go,” she said and gave Cisco one.
In the corner, there were three stacked boxes labeled “Real Estate” and “Taxes.” Katie moved them to the office and began going through them. There were taxes leading back ten years and file folders of the warehouse building, improvements, remodel paperwork, and two other real estate listings. Apparently Jack owned some property in Echo Forest. He owned twenty-five acres on the edge of town that had no improvements and he owned another twenty-five acres under development that was located right next to Devin Bradley’s parents’ ranch. Jack’s property showed it was an old ranch of some kind. There were notations of structures. There appeared to be barns, some type of mill, and other structures she didn’t recognize. Katie thought it would be a perfect location to hide out, hide a body, or get rid of a body.
Katie and McGaven needed to be prepared for anything and everything because the killer likely knew they would be coming to get John—no matter what. And that’s what the killer wanted. They were going to be walking right into a trap with no backup.
FORTY-THREE
Sunday 1115 hours
John’s strength was dwindling fast and the cold began to seep into his bones. He wore a warm hoodie with a shirt underneath, but it didn’t begin to combat snow season. He noticed he was breathless a lot, which meant that his body was trying hard to stay warm at whatever cost.
Since it was daytime, he assumed late morning, it made the light better. He could see more detail of his surroundings. His mind flipped from one scenario to another of where he was located and why. Katie and McGaven had a difficult and complex investigation they’d been thrown into, but John had seen them survive the most dangerous situations and solve the most multifaceted chain of events. If anyone was able to find him, he would bet on them every time.
His stomach was past rumbling in hunger. He was famished and it began to affect his body and strength. No water made it even more desperate. He knew he had been thrown down the old well to kill him slowly. First it was hunger, then numbness, and finally beginning starvation, where the body takeswhat it needs in order to survive—until it can’t anymore and starts to shut down all the major organs.
He’d read somewhere that these old wells in rural locations were often connected to help drive water to different areas on a working farm or ranch. One of his thoughts was that if he could get water to enter the well, then it would fill up, taking him to the top. Would it work? John had no idea.
He fought the urge to sit down but finally gave in. He leaned back with his head against the cold wall. He thought, if this were a test…how would he approach the problem with the highest odds of winning?
It was so quiet that he thought he had gone deaf, but there was something that caught his attention—a tiny sound, like someone had started a jackhammer far away. A burst of energy, no matter how small, propelled him to investigate.
John stayed on his knees as he began to touch the wall, as if he were using his fingertips to read it. He kept at it and realized that there were clay, brick, and sandy soil components. There were indications of various types of rock indigenous to the area. When John reached the other side, there was dampness and trickling water—most likely due to the snow. It smelled like river water, clean and pristine, and then he put his tongue on the droplets on his fingers. It was fresh.
John knew what he was going to do. He would begin to chip and claw until he could open a floodgate. The downside was that if he couldn’t release enough water to get to the top or near it in an expedient manner, then he wouldn’t have to worry about dying from lack of food and water—he would die from hypothermia.
