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“I think before we continue, it would be a good idea to introduce ourselves. I haven’t gotten the names of anyone who’s interacted with me today,” hesays.
I have a strong feeling he really doesn’t care if he knows any of us. But I humorhim.
“My name is Agent Emma Griffin. I’m with the FBI,” I start. “I was asked by Detective Garrison, the lead detective on the case, to assist with the investigation of the recent murders at thecamp.”
“Pleasure to me you, Agent Griffin,” he says. “My name is JacobMerriweather.”
The name stops like a rock in the center of my chest. “Merriweather? As inReggie?”
He tips his head down in a gesture that is almost a nod.
“I’m hisson.”
Garrison shows up to the department several hours later and I go into his office to fill him in on whathappened.
“I had no idea we were on the Merriweather property. I knew he lived out in that direction, but not where exactly. And we came out at a different angle, so I didn’t know that’s where we were. I couldn’t believe it when he told me he was Reggie’s son,” I say. “From what you’ve said about him, I wouldn’t have ever thought he had afamily.”
“He did. In his own way. A wife and one son. I know they’d wanted more, but the one was all they had. He was about thirteen when his father went to prison,” Garrison tells me.
“And I have detailed descriptions of why he went to prison,” I say, describing the notebooks to him. “According to Jacob, they are being used forresearch.”
“Research for what?” Garrison asks.
“He’s writing a book about his father’s crimes,” I say.
“His alleged crimes,” the detective corrects. “This is actually exciting. Maybe there’ll be something he can dig up that will finally prove Reggie wasn’t telling the truth. Then we can find who is actuallyresponsible.”
“I was under the impression you barely knew the guy,” I say. “The way you talked about him, it was like he was just some guy you had to deal with as a police officer and someone kind of everyone around town knew about because of his strange behavior. But it sounds like you knew him a lot better thanthat.”
“We knew each other,” he says. “There was a time we might have even beenfriends.”
“Is that the real reason you don’t want to think that he was the killer?” Iask.
“No,” he says without hesitation. “Friendship doesn’t cloud myjudgment.”
“Alright,” I say. “Well, his attorney made sure he was released right after talking to me. There was nothing we could arrest him on. With no physical evidence, just the word of one girl isn’t enough. But I reminded him that we’re going to keep looking and if we find even a shred of evidence, he’ll be arrested. Until then, he invited me to come back to the house and get more of an explanation of the bookproject.”
“Are you going to go?” Garrisonasks.
“Yes. I’m interested to know what he knows about the massacre. And I haven’t forgotten what Miranda told me. She gave us a very detailed description of the house and where she was kept. Even what Jacob Merriweather looks like. We weren’t able to find the room where she said she was kept, but we’ll do another search. All of that information can’t becoincidental.”
“How about Mike Kirkland?” Garrison asks.
“I’m not sure,” I admit. “Lisa’s statement wasn’t nearly as detailed or descriptive as Miranda’s, and a lot of her assumptions came based on her feeling about the situation rather than what she was actually experiencing. At the same time, all these things about Mike are still coming up and I don’t know what to make of them exactly. I don’t know if I believe he is a masked mass murderer. But I still need to be convinced. I need every chapter of thisstory.”
The next day when I pull into Jacob Merriweather’s house he’s outside replacing the door I kicked in. He looks over his shoulder when I climb out of the car and push my sunglasses up onto the top of my head.
“Hello,” I say, trying to plaster on a nicer face.
“Hello,” he grumbles, going back to his work.I guess it’s about what I’dexpected.
I make sure my gun is in place before heading for the porch. Sam wanted to come with me, but I said no. Having both of the people who stormed his house and tore it apart before even knowing his name show back up would probably not be conducive to me getting more of the information I want. I’ve done more investigations and time in the field on my own than I have with a partner, anyway. I don’t need anyone with me. If something goes wrong, I’m more than capable of protecting myself. And I know how to get home. No need to feed myself to the lake creature.
“I’m sorry about the door,” Isay.
He doesn’t bother to look up at me. “Somehow, I don’t really think youare.”
I choose not to respond. It’s best for everyone involved.
