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Dad taps Edward’s shoulder with a small chuckle.
It’s another two hours before a haggard-looking McCallister and a gleeful Agent Collins storm into the station.
“Sir?” Jake panics, rushing to his feet.
“Call Sheriff Jenkins from Greenover and put him through to my line. We need his officers,” McCallister orders, not stopping as he heads toward his office at the back of the room.
Greenover, that’s the town over.
“How many staff?”
“All of them.”
What the fuck’s going on?
Collins goes to follow, but the sheriff closes his office door, forcing her to remain out. It doesn’t slow her down. She simply pulls out her cell phone, typing furiously. Her grin can’t be contained.
“What happened?” Jake asks for all of us.
Daniel and I move to the front of the cell. I lean my arms through and slouch like I don’t care. I do.
“You found evidence? We got the Cromwells!” Cooper jumps up.
“Of course we didn’t. I talked with Darrell’s loser friends, and they both said the same thing. Last time they saw him, he was with Paul.” She glances up from her phone long enough to glare at him. “Spiking drinks at a party on the Cromwell campground.”
“That’s not right!” Cooper rages.
“I assume they didn’t have permission for the party?”
I clear my throat, and when Dad looks at me, I tilt my head. Kaleb and I were wearing masks, but Lara wasn’t. People know she was there.
“They did.” He nods. “But there was to be no alcohol. We were not there.”
She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Both Darrell and Paul are missing. Probably on the run.”
I look at Daniel as covertly as I can, and he just blinks at me. Seems I wasn’t the only one who had a fun Halloween. I knew he wouldn’t let the spiking go. Collins is right. Paul and Darrell probably are together.
Cooper kicks the desk nearest him. The man has no self-control. That’s his problem.
“No!”
Thankfully, Collins is only too happy to move on.
“There have been two actual murders,” she informs the room. “Two locals, it’s a bloodbath out in the woods near the train tracks.”
“Then why are you grinning?” Jake cringes.
Fair.
“Because before he butchered them, he shot them with an arrow, then slit their throats.”
Jake pales.
“It’s the I-90 Killer,” she continues, oblivious. “We only ever get called in days after his kills. By then, local cops have trod all over the scene and done everything they shouldn’t.” Collins pauses, seeming toremember who she is talking to. “No offense,” she adds.
Jake shrugs, ignoring the insult or just not caring. Sitting forward in his seat, he’s eager for more. “Who was it?”
“We’ll need dentals to confirm, but your boss said it’s a local mechanic and his wife. An Andrew and Sally Clarke.”
