The Lost Orphans Omnibus: A Riveting Mystery Read online

  Rachel continued her foot shuffle. The shelf beneath her feet chipped away. That’s not good. Like a lightning bolt, a large crack raced across the thin rock surface. Rachel’s heart rate spiked as a fresh burst of adrenalin and fear raced through her veins. She increased her speed. The shelf gave way.

  Rachel leapt. She held her breath, seeing the trees beneath her. She felt gravity pull at her and the Sense tear at her, warning her of the obvious danger.

  Arms guarding her face, she landed harshly on the inclining mountain where Wesley was climbing. Rachel rolled a few feet before she clasped a root, stopping her tumble. Her body was heavy with dirt and water. Spitting out a damp leaf, she began her ascent up the mountain. Wesley was far ahead of her. Whether intentionally or not, he kicked up clumps of dirt at her as he went.

  Rachel was reminded of her age as she clasped fistfuls of earth, leaves, and twigs to ascend the mountain. Despite pain and cold that rattled her joints, she forged onward with glassy eyes. Wesley reached the top, where the path evened out. He climbed over and vanished from Rachel’s sight. She upped her speed. She was up to her forearms in dirt. The knees of her slacks had torn open.

  By the time she reached the top, she wanted to collapse. If she hadn’t grabbed ahold of the nearby tree, she might have. Tears of sweat raced down her face, creating little rivulets in the dirt that painted her face. The mountain’s slope was not as cruel as the one she’d climbed. A number of game trails whizzed through the spaced-out oaks.

  Wesley’s run was a desperate stagger. He bounced between trees like a pinball and almost tripped. He turned back to Rachel. One of his lenses was cracked and spotted with dirt. His breathing was desperate. He turned his head back to the woods ahead and kept moving. Rachel followed behind him. Her side cramped. Water still sloshed in her boots. The breeze and bugs made the trek miserable. However, the trial paid off as Wesley reached a third and final rocky drop-off. Beyond it, the splendor of Appalachia stretched as far as the eye could see, an uncountable amount of mountains and trees extending beneath the midday sun.

  Resting his palms on his knees, Wesley turned back to Rachel. Dirt smudged his face, arms, legs, shirt, and hair. His glasses were crooked on his face. His hair product had given way, leaving a few loose bangs falling over his soft face. He huffed. Rachel did the same. Her mouth was cotton.

  “Why?” Wesley asked hoarsely. “Why couldn’t you let me be?”

  Rachel stopped about fifteen feet from him. “I wouldn’t be doing my job. Why did you run?”

  Wesley ignored her. He glanced back at the drop-off and the jagged rocks and trees below.

  “Step away from the cliff, Wesley,” Rachel said, out of breath.

  Wesley took a step back, stopping an inch from the edge. He closed his eyes and mumbled. “No. No more.”

  “Listen to me, Wesley. There’s no reason why anyone should get hurt today,” Rachel said. “You’re a Christian guy. Don’t throw away your life.”

  Wesley closed his eyes and mumbled a desperate prayer.

  “Please,” Rachel said, imagining her only lead plummeting to his death, “I’m begging you. Step away from the cliff.”

  Footsteps crunched behind her.

  Wesley opened his eyes and moaned grievously as Peak walked beside Rachel. Unlike Rachel and Wesley, Peak was relatively clean and dry. His hair was unruly, and his nice shoes were caked in mud. He aimed his Glock 19 at Wesley. “It’s over, Mr. Times. Come with us.”

  With trembling hands, Wesley took off his glasses and rubbed a tear from his eyes, accidentally smearing his face. He gave the cliffside another look.

  Peak and Rachel slowly moved forward, going for the flank.

  “I’m sorry,” Wesley said to Rachel. “But there’s no going back now. Like the pastor said, you reap what you sow.”

  “We want to understand you, Wesley,” Rachel said, keeping her dirty palms up in a nonthreatening manner as she moved forward. “Come with me. We’ll get you a fresh change of clothes, some water, and some coffee, and we’ll chat. Just us.”

  Dread flushed over Wesley’s face. “I’m a bad man. I don’t deserve anything.”

  Peak noticed the man’s wedding ring. “What will your wife think?”

  Wesley studied the ring on his finger as if it were the first time he’d seen it. With bloodshot eyes, he glared at the detective. “I know who you are, Detectives Peak and Harroway. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you win. Lord, I’m sorry.”

  He took a step back. Rachel and Peak darted to him. As Wesley stumbled backward, Peak darted ahead and outstretched his hand. He grasped the buttoned front of the man’s shirt and began to pull down under the man’s weight. Rachel quickly wrapped her arms around Peak’s torso and pulled back. Grunting through his clenched teeth, Peak held the man fully suspended apart from his feet. Wesley’s arms twirled freely in the air for a second before instinct took over and he grabbed Peak’s arm. One of Wesley‘s buttons tore off in Peak’s hand. Rachel pulled back as hard as she could. Her heel slipped on the leaves, and she fell back on her bottom. Peak fell back on her. Wesley fell on him.

  Peak quickly rolled on top of Wesley, forced his arms behind his back, and cuffed him. When he had finished, he sat beside Wesley, took a deep breath, and read him his rights.

  After a few minutes’ breather, Peak pushed Wesley along. The cuffed man’s face was downcast and dirty. He didn’t offer any resistance or words as they moved through the wilds. Rachel hugged herself as she walked. She longed to strip out of her damp clothes. If she were leading, they’d be lost right now. Thanks to Peak’s sharp mind, he was able to retrace his steps.

  As Wesley waddled along, Peak said, “Make it easy on yourself. Tell us about your involvement with the murders and the abductions.”

  Wesley refused to respond. He kept watching his feet as they went.

  “You will give in eventually,” Peak said. “Every man has a breaking point.”

  Rachel considered joining in on Peak’s interrogation tactics but was too tired to contribute. Wesley was in a far worse spot than she was. They reached the trail, and Rachel sighed. Freedom was a dirt path away. But first…

  “Take him back to the car,” Rachel told Peak.

  With his coal-black eyes, Peak studied her for a moment and then marched Wesley forward. After they were far enough along, Rachel went in the opposite direction. She stopped at the place where Wesley had placed the rock. Falling on her knees, she clawed at the loose dirt. The envelope within the plastic bag was thin and cheap. Trying to avoid leaving as many fingerprints as possible, Rachel shook the dirt off the bag. She handled it gently and held it up to the light. Within the cheap envelope, she could see a Post-it note and a key. She was eager to tear it open, but things would be much better if she catalogued it as evidence before putting her paws on it.

  Back at the station, Rachel wore a Highlands PD sweatshirt with matching grey sweatpants and white tennis shoes one size too large. Her black hair was wavy and damp from her hot shower in the locker room, but she didn’t care. She was content in her warm clothes and with her emergency cup of coffee. She sniffed the aroma and wanted nothing more than to go home, crash on the couch, and nap.

  Peak walked into the break room. He was still dressed in his dirty church clothes.

  “You owe me a new pair of shoes,” he said as he drained the rest of the office coffee into a Styrofoam cup.

  Rachel glanced down at his leather oxfords caked in dirt and ruined by scuffs. “That’s unfortunate.”

  Peak leaned his bottom against the countertop and looked at Rachel seated at the round plastic table. His dark eyes were tired, and his cheeks look extra sunken. “They opened the envelope.”

  “What was in there?” Rachel asked.

  After hearing it, Rachel darted to the evidence room. She pushed through the door and passed the shelves full of plastic tubs. The white envelope and its contents were laid out neatly on the table in the middle of the room.

  Rachel stopped a
t the edge. The cheap envelope had been opened neatly with a letter opener. Next to it was the house key. Beside that was the yellow sticky note that had Rachel’s home address on it.

  Covering her mouth with her hand, Rachel withdrew her key fob from her pocket and compared house keys. They were identical.

  Rachel felt lightheaded. She kept the spare key outside her front door, underneath a loose floorboard on the porch. “How did he know where to find this?”

  “I say we ask him,” suggested Peak.

  They met Wesley in interrogation room 2. Like Rachel’s, borrowed sweats replaced his clothes. He sat at an aluminum table, in an aluminum chair. His hands were cuffed to the table. A cup of water and a little cherry Danish were set out before him. Through his crooked and cracked glasses, he stared at the food and drink with red-rimmed eyes. He didn’t look up when Rachel and Peak entered. The man was a broken shell. Rachel uncuffed his hands, starting their meeting with a kind gesture. Wesley squeezed his sore wrists.

  “You waived your right to an attorney. Why?” Peak asked immediately.

  Wesley kept his mouth shut.

  Rachel sat opposite him. “Mr. Times. Wesley. Can I call you that?”

  The man didn’t reply.

  Rachel repositioned herself in her seat. “Wesley, what were you planning to do with my house key and address?”

  Wesley sniffled.

  “You put up quite the chase,” Rachel said, changing her tactics. “Ever think about doing a triathlon?”

  “Look at Detective Harroway,” Peak ordered.

  Reluctantly, Wesley met eyes with Rachel. His soft face was flushed red. There was still a smudge of dirt on his ear.

  Rachel smiled at him. “Answer me this. Are you the Highlands Poisoner?”

  The man smirked.

  “Is that a yes or a no?” Peak interjected.

  Rachel spoke softly. “I think we both know the answer, but say it to the camera and save us a lot of time.”

  Peak glared at him.

  Taking a deep breath, Wesley replied, “No. I am not.”

  Rachel leaned back in her chair. “Fantastic. Now that the hard question is out of the way, tell us why you ran.”

  “I can’t,” Wesley barked.

  “You won’t,” Peak corrected. “There’s a difference.”

  “You don’t understand,” Wesley protested.

  “You were delivering my address and spare key to the Poisoner. Why, Wesley?”

  Wesley glared at her. “He’s going to kill them thanks to you.”

  Peak pulled out a file. “Your son and your wife, I assume.”

  Wesley’s eyes widened. “Do they know I’ve been arrested?”

  “Not yet,” Peak said. “But we can tell them.”

  “Don’t!” Wesley exclaimed.

  “I don’t get you, Wesley,” Rachel said. “You care so much about your family, and yet you almost jumped off a cliff.”

  Wesley hammered his fist on the table. “If he knows you have me, he’s going to kill them.”

  “So the trade-off was to have him kill me instead?” Rachel replied.

  “You stand a much better chance than my six-year-old son and handicapped wife,” Wesley replied with venom.

  Rachel couldn’t fault him on that logic. “I don’t care that you took my spare key, Wesley. I care about the Poisoner. Help me find him.”

  “I don’t know where he is.”

  “How did he reach out to you?”

  “He sent me a videotape,” Wesley confessed. “I found it at the front door. It showed my wife and son playing, and then, on paper, it told me what to do: get your key and your address and deliver it to location X on Sunday evening.”

  “You never saw him?”

  “Never,” Wesley declared.

  Rachel leaned toward Peak and whispered in his ear. “The note said that he’s not supposed to deliver it until this evening. We still have a few hours.”

  With pursed lips, Peak nodded.

  Rachel spoke to Wesley. “This is what I’m going to do, Wesley. I’m going to drop your robbery charges and put you and your family into protective custody.”

  Wesley’s eyes watered. “What? Really?”

  “I expect your full cooperation going forward. Understand?”

  “Yes.” Wesley nodded a few times. “I understand. Whatever you need.”

  “Tell me how you got the spare key.”

  “I heard rumors that you live in Hadley House. Two days ago, I waited until you left for work and spent a few hours looking for it. I eventually got it from the floorboard.”

  Rachel asked another question. “Did you deliver my personal number as well?”

  Wesley looked at her with a confused face. I guess not, Rachel concluded. That means he must’ve gotten it from someone else. “That’s all for now, Wesley.”

  Peak stood and buttoned his jacket. “If you get a threat like that, contact the police immediately. That’s why we’re here.”

  With McConnell’s permission, they sent a few undercover officers to scout out the trail in the evening. The department kept Wesley’s arrest a secret from the public. No one would know about it. After four hours of unfruitful labor, one officer was left behind, while the rest returned to their duty.

  “At least we can say we tried,” Rachel said as she and Peak headed out of the department for the evening. It was nearly 11:00 p.m.

  “No other insight from you-know-who?” Peak asked.

  “Nothing, really,” Rachel said. “The Orphans have been quiet. Be praying that the church gets back to us with the visitor list. Maybe we’ll find the name we need.”

  “Unlikely. The Poisoner would most likely use an alias,” Peak replied. “I’ll see you soon, Harroway.”

  Rachel headed home, struggling to keep her eyes open. She hated the old cliché, but it felt so true: I’m getting too old for this. After this case was done, she was going to make herself a huge smoothie. Following the instructions in her mother’s leather-bound journal, she’d be able to enjoy three days Orphan free.

  She checked her missed calls. One was from her father.

  “Hey, Rachel. I saw you leave church early today. I hope it wasn’t something I said. Call me back when you get a chance.”

  Rachel put aside the phone. She’d deal with that tomorrow. As of now, it was time to rest. But as she exited her car, she saw the mothers gathered on the front porch.

  “What is it?” Rachel asked as she hiked the steps. The Orphans trailed her in silence.

  Rachel cautiously entered her home. She flipped on the lights and scanned the various rooms, making sure the Orphans weren’t warning her of any strangers. No one.

  As she opened her freezer to extract the tub of her favorite chocolate cherry ice cream, Rachel paused. She closed the lid and put it back. She looked at everything in her kitchen and wondered if she should toss it all. Granted, the Poisoner killed with wine, but desperate times meant desperate measures. Rachel fortified her doors for the evening and marched upstairs to bed.

  She dreamed she was running through a hallway of an old house. The hall seemed to stretch forever, with the same window repeated endlessly on the right-hand wall. Outside, the full moon watched her. She knew someone was chasing her but could not see him. Up ahead, Rachel saw a little boy. She called out for help, but her voice was mute. She reached him, noticing his little overalls, his shirt, and the jack-o’-lantern mask that completely covered his head. Suddenly, the dream shifted. Rachel was with the boy, but they were in a dark room together. Dust drifted through the air. The walls were old and wooden. Rachel and the boy with the jack-o’-lantern mask studied a child singing a sad lullaby in the corner. Rachel approached, recognizing her as Mallory Stix. She had an angular face and long brown hair and wore a pink dress and a fake tiara. She looked up at Rachel with alarm. Her throat muscles moved, and then she vomited blood on Rachel’s face.

  Rachel awoke to the sound of her ringing phone. It was 4:00 a.m., and the call was
anonymous. Hesitantly, she answered. “Harroway speaking.”

  “I told you to back off,” a distorted voice said. “There will be consequences.”

  “We should meet. Settle this face to face.” Rachel knew he wouldn’t take the bait, but she needed to keep him on the line.

  The voice ignored her request. There was a certain smugness to his tone. “Stay tuned for Halloween night, Detective. It’s going to be grand.”

  7

  Halloween Night

  The Poisoner was silent for the next three days.

  Like a red eye, the sun set over Highlands. Its crimson rays splashed over indigo skies during the fateful night of All Hallows’ Eve. Few parents listened to the police’s warnings. Hundreds of little ghouls, superheroes, princesses, and other tiny monsters roamed the streets of the small North Carolina town.

  A knock.

  Muffled giggles.

  Giovanni Caro opened the door to a little Dracula, a mummy, and a surprisingly gory zombie.

  “Trick or treat!” the tiny monsters yelled with joy.

  Mr. Caro pulled out his candy bucket: an orange jack-o’-lantern head full of all sorts of candy, treats, and a few of his other personal favorites. He held the plastic bucket in both hands and presented it to the children, along with a toothbrush. The zombie reached his bloody hand into the jack-o’-lantern and fished around for the biggest candy bar he could find.

  “Only one,” Mr. Caro said sweetly but firmly.

  The child’s eyes cast down in disappointment.

  “Unless,” Mr. Caro said to capture their attention, “you promise to share with your friends.”

  “We promise! We promise!” the children replied joyously.

  Mr. Caro tilted the basket and allowed them to take to their hearts’ content.

  They all grabbed big handfuls and made their plastic bags sag with candy.