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George shook his head and struck again, splinters of wood spreading across the grass.
“So anyway, uh . . . ” Nico dared a step closer. “I’d be lying if I said these murders haven’t forced me to wonder.”
“Wonder what?”
“If we caught the right guy.”
Again, George stopped with the axe above his head and looked back at him. Nico tilted his own, attempting to convey a distinct order not to throw it at him again.
After cutting though one last chunk of timber, George set the axe down. Folding his arms, he came to stand directly in front of Nico. “Speak plainly, boy.”
Taking that as permission to mention the topic of his daughter’s death, Nico moved his gaze to their decrepit barn in the distance. “When I arrested Bryan Fowler for Sara’s murder, I was certain he was the one, but now, with all this, I’m starting to think maybe I made a mistake.”
“Oh? Another one?” George’s eyes spoke of barely contained rage. “It was a clear-cut case. That’s what you told me.”
“I thought it was.” Nico brought his eyes back around to face the man before him, to the grieving father who’d once put so much trust in him to bring his daughter home safely. “But I didn’t see it happen, only the aftermath, and there are now two more women dead, both of whom had history with your daughter. Both tied up, stabbed upward of thirty times, and I can’t explain that. Can you?”
A long, painful pause ensued. George appeared to be trying to reign in his emotions enough that he could speak without crying, and Nico was wise enough to stay quiet and let him do it.
“What are you doing here, Nico?” he finally asked. “What do you want from me?”
“I need to know if there’s anything you can think of that I might be missing. Something that Sara might have said before she disappeared. Did she leave a note, a secret diary, or send you a letter of any kind, even if it said nothing of her whereabouts? Did she ever call? Did anyone ever tell you that they’d seen or heard from her? Was there ever another guy in her life that you’re aware of? Anybody local who she spent a lot of time with before she disappeared?”
The laugh that George let out was a hopeless one. “Oh, Lieutenant, you can’t see for looking, can you? My baby girl left because she despised me.” He lifted his chin and stared at the sky. “I’m a hard man, and she hated me for it. Would rather have lived in squaller, taking drugs with some criminal than be with her family.” He shook his head. “Clearly, I didn’t know my daughter at all. I don’t know what you thought you’d gain from coming out here today, but I ain’t got any answers for you.”
“Okay,” Nico said, backing away. “Would you do me one favor? Just ask Esme the same questions I asked you, if you think she can handle it.”
George, silent and sullen, nodded, then told Nico to go away.
The chief took his lunch break at noon. Feeling like the mouse while the cat was away, Nico sidled up to Frank’s desk as soon as he heard West’s cruiser pull out of the lot.
“You feel like getting into some trouble?”
Frank laughed, continuing with his work. “Kid, I’ve got multiple ex-wives. I’m always in trouble.”
“I want to go up the mountain again.”
Frank’s pen stopped moving. He looked up. “I’m sorry, I must have wax buildup in my ears. It sounded like you said you wanted to go visit our friendly neighborhood hillbillies, the same ones who pointed shotguns at us the last time we were up there.”
“That’s exactly what I said,” Nico replied. “I want to drive up there late this afternoon, park somewhere close and wait until nightfall, then sneak into their camp and find Logan Hayes’s truck. In and out without anyone knowing we were there.”
“I hate every word that just came out of your mouth,” Frank said. “Are you crazy?”
“Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Retired. It plays golf with my youth nowadays.”
“There was blood on that tailgate,” Nico said, careful to keep his voice low. “We need to get a sample.”
“A samp—” Frank looked incredulous. “It’s been days. What makes you think it’ll still be there?”
Nico lifted a shoulder. “It hasn’t rained, and I didn’t see any taps or hoses around those cabins. Did you?”
“So, you want to risk life and limb on a hunch that Logan Hayes doesn’t wash his truck? That he’s so confident in himself that he’d leave incriminating evidence on it, even after having cops sniffing around?”
“He might not even realize it’s there,” Nico argued. “Did you think about that?”
“The only thing I’ve thought about since you started talking is your mental health, or lack of.”
