Eva Rae Thomas Mystery Box Set Page 11

  "Then I'll just have to call the cops then," their dad said.

  "You can't steal them from me."

  "Go home."

  The boy looked out the door, just as his mother picked up a rock from the flowerbed, the one with the irises that New Mommy loved so much. His old mommy threw it at the window. The window shattered with a loud noise and both children screamed. Glass scattered everywhere in the living room. Outside, their mother was screaming too as their dad tackled her and pulled her into the street.

  "Don't you ever come back here, or I'll make sure the police put out a restraining order," he yelled.

  The boy grabbed his sister in his arms as their mother walked away, head slumped, still yelling. Meanwhile, their father came back inside, snorted, then slammed the door behind him. He knelt by his children and pulled them into a warm embrace. Both kids were shaking heavily.

  "What's wrong with Mommy, Daddy?" the boy asked, tears streaming across his cheeks.

  "She's not well, son," he said.

  "Can't a doctor make her well?" little sister asked, with a sniffle.

  Their dad shook his head. "I’m afraid not."

  "Why not?" the girl asked.

  "She's a drug addict," the boy answered. "It can't be cured."

  "I’m so sorry you had to see her like this," their dad whispered. "That's what drugs do to people. They make them act irrationally. Right now, your mother isn't acting rationally. You can't trust her. But I promise you, it won't happen again. I won't let it. I'll protect you."

  Chapter 43

  After saying goodbye to the kids the next morning, I walked upstairs and opened my safe, then found my gun. When we moved to Cocoa Beach, I had put it away, thinking I wasn't going to get any use of it, but I wasn't feeling safe anymore, not even in my small cozy hometown. Maybe I was just being paranoid like my daughter said; I didn't know. But I knew this feeling a little too well, and I also knew that wearing a concealed gun made me feel safer.

  I sighed and looked at my phone. I still wasn't convinced of Coach Thomas' innocence, to be honest, but at the same time, I found it hard to keep looking into him since it would only end up hurting Matt. I would have to tread carefully.

  There was something, though, that I had to check. A thought that had entered my mind and I couldn't let go. I grabbed my computer and began a search, then found some old articles that I began to read. I made a few phone calls back to some old colleagues out west in California and made tons of notes on my pad. Then my dad called, and we chatted for about half an hour. As I hung up, there was a knock on my door. I walked to the window and looked down into my driveway.

  It was Matt.

  "What's he doing here?" I mumbled.

  Probably came to yell at you for ruining his career.

  I walked down and opened the door, preparing an entire speech of excuses but also ready to defend myself, when I took one glance at his face and realized that wasn't why he was here. This had nothing to do with what had happened the day before.

  "We need to talk. Can I come in?"

  "Of course," I said and stepped aside. He had his laptop under his arm, which he placed on my kitchen counter. He sat down on a stool with a deep sigh. There were cereal leftovers all over and spilled milk, which I hurried up and wiped away.

  "You look like you could use a cup of coffee," I said.

  "Yes, please." He tried to smile, but I knew him well enough to know that he was forcing it. He was biting his lip and, from the look of it, he had been at it all morning, maybe even all night.

  I poured coffee for the both of us, then found some cookies and put them out, but Matt didn't touch them. Instead, he sipped his coffee, then looked deep into my eyes.

  "What's going on, Matt? You're scaring me. Did something happen? Have you gotten in trouble with Chief Annie because of me?"

  He rubbed his forehead. "Chief Annie sent me here. Not to scold you, but to beg you. It's time we bury the hatchet and face reality. We can't do this on our own. I’ve come to ask you to help us out with the case. We're in deep here. Too deep, Eva Rae. We need your help. Do you think you can do that? Chief Annie told me I had to get down on my knees and beg you if I needed to. Do I need to?"

  I sat down on a stool next to him, completely taken aback, holding my coffee between my hands.

  "I…I have…"

  "I know you have this book to write," he interrupted me, "and that you're super busy with other stuff, but we can't do this without you. Things have gone from bad to worse since yesterday, and we simply don't have enough experience to deal with it. Please?"

  I put my hand on his arm to stop him talking. "That's not what I was trying to say. I was about to say that I would love to. But I need to have free hands. I need to do this my way."

  "Whatever it takes," Matt said. "Chief's orders. And I will behave too."

  I chuckled. "Was that an excuse?"

  "I guess. I was an idiot the other day. I’m sorry," he said. "You’re allowed to flirt. I don't know why I got so mad."

  "I get it," I said. "The pressure is on your shoulders. Now, show me what's on that computer. I don't assume you brought it to check your emails."

  Chapter 44

  "Where do I begin?" Matt said, his voice heavy. He had opened his laptop and was clicking the mouse. "Oh, yes. The autopsy. Let's begin there."

  He opened a document, and I moved my stool closer, so I could look over his shoulder. He smelled just like he used to when we were younger. It brought back many fond memories and a sense of comfort to me.

  "Sophie Williams died from asphyxiation, they concluded," he said.

  "When?" I asked. "When was she strangled? She was taken three months before she was found, but the body wasn't decomposed."

  "Oh, yes, well, time of death is set to be somewhere between eight p.m. and eleven p.m. on the night she was found, October 5th."

  "Okay, so in other words, he kept her for three months somewhere before killing her and placing her there," I said. "What else? Was she abused sexually?"

  He shook his head.

  "Okay, so it's not something sexual, which I’m quite surprised about, to be honest. She was dismembered; we saw that," I said. "Do they know with what tool?"

  Matt nodded. He swallowed hard. "A sharp object, possibly an ax, it says."

  I nodded again and sipped my coffee. "A common household tool. What has me rattled is the fact that he dismembered her but not to dispose of the parts. That's usually the reason for dismembering someone. To get rid of the parts one after another in order not to be discovered, but that’s not this killer's motive. It's not the kill itself; it's the displaying of the victim that gets him going."

  "Which leads me to the next part, the one that has us all puzzled."

  I sipped more coffee, then looked at him. He looked like he needed a moment to prepare himself to be able to say what came next. I braced myself for something nasty.

  "The body parts didn't belong to her," he said.

  "Excuse me?"

  He swallowed again. "The arms and legs weren't hers. The head and torso were."

  It took a few seconds before the realization finally sunk in. I blinked a couple of times, then wrinkled my forehead.

  "They weren't hers?"

  He shook his head.

  "Then whose were they?"

  He tapped on his computer, and another file came up. A picture appeared of a young boy, looking to be about the same age as Sophie.

  "Scott Paxton, also twelve years old, disappeared on Sunday, September 12th while biking home from a friend's house. He's from Titusville. His mom's a drug addict who didn't notify the police till several days had passed and then she told them she believed his dad had taken him. They put out an Amber Alert, but neither the dad nor the boy was ever found. In the end, they just assumed he had run away with him…maybe to another state."

  "But he hadn't," I said and ran a hand through my hair while thinking about all this new information. The Cocoa Beach Police had done
an excellent job of hiding this from the press. As soon as they found out, they would gobble it all up and spread panic in town. It was a good call to hide it for as long as they could. Especially since it seemed like the killer wanted this out; he wanted this part to be told, the gory details. I wasn't sure why yet, but there was no doubt that this was his goal. Otherwise, he wouldn't have gone to such trouble to do it and display the body the way he did. The more I got to know about this killer, the less I liked.

  "There’s more," Matt said.

  "I had a feeling there was," I said and finished my cup. "Let me just get a refill first. I have a feeling I’m going to need a lot of caffeine for this."

  Chapter 45

  I refilled both of our cups and grabbed a cookie. I know that most people wouldn't be able to eat in the middle of something like this, but I wasn't like most people. I could always eat and, the more troubled I was, the more I did. Or maybe I just couldn't help myself. I needed some comfort in the middle of all this human tragedy and misery.

  "So, last night, this came to our attention," Matt said. "Or rather it was sent to me directly, in an email addressed to me."

  I leaned over and watched him open an email, then click on a link. The link sent him to YouTube where a video appeared. He started it and leaned back so I could see better.

  At first, it showed a video of Sophie Williams from when she was still alive. She was sitting in a room, on the floor, tied up, her mouth duct-taped. She was crying and screaming behind the tape.

  "Oh, dear Lord," I said.

  "There's more," he said.

  Another clip appeared, this time of the senator's son sitting in the room where we found him, money stuffed down his throat, gasping for air behind the bills.

  Then there was text sliding across the screen, while the boy was groaning and gasping for air behind it.

  DO I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION YET?

  I glanced quickly at Matt next to me when he signaled for me to keep watching.

  A new text appeared.

  FACTS:

  Every 36 seconds, there's one divorce in the U.S.

  That's 2,400 divorces a day.

  16,800 a week.

  876,000 a year.

  50 % of American children will go through their parents’ divorce.

  Children of divorce suffer in school.

  They have behavioral problems.

  They are less likely to graduate from high school.

  Kids of divorce are more likely to commit a crime while juvenile.

  They are five times more likely to live in poverty.

  They suffer from health issues like anxiety and depression.

  Their suicide rate is twice as high.

  Even God hates divorce, Malachi 2:16

  The text stopped, and the camera then zoomed in on the face of a crying Sophie Williams. And then the camera was turned off, and the screen went black.

  I leaned back and stared at Matt, who was still very pale. I shook my head and scratched my forehead, then grabbed my phone and found my Bible app and read out loud from Malachi 2:16:

  "'For I hate divorce!' says the LORD, the God of Israel. 'To divorce your wife is to overwhelm her with cruelty,' says the LORD of Heaven's Armies. 'So guard your heart; do not be unfaithful to your wife.'"

  I put the phone down, wondering if I should send this passage to Chad. Matt gave me a look.

  "You understand now why we need your help?" he asked.

  I sipped my coffee while chewing on all this new information. I grabbed another cookie and bit into it. A couple of crumbs fell to the counter. I ate the cookie while thinking some more.

  "So…what do you think?" Matt asked cautiously.

  I spoke with my mouth full, lost in my thoughts. "First off, he placed the body for us to see, somewhere he knew tourists came, where everyone comes. He wants our attention. That's why he chose Sophie, a girl in the public eye. The same goes for the senator's son. He wants to make sure he's the talk of the town. That the media will talk about this. But not because he gets a thrill out of it; no, this runs deeper. He has some sort of mission with this. Now the part about dismembering the body and putting it together the way he did using parts from another child—also from a home of divorce—it symbolizes something for him. There's a message here for us to read. After seeing this video, there is no doubt. It represents the way children are split in a divorce. There’s a split between parents, and sometimes siblings are split as well, torn apart in their loyalty and sometimes physically between two homes, two lives. I must say, it's very carefully created. He’s put a lot of thought into this, which tells us he's extremely calculated and deliberate. This is well-planned beyond anything I have seen before."

  Matt nodded, growing paler as I spoke. "And the senator's son?"

  "The senator's son, and the money in his mouth, I will assume represents poverty. How children often end up in poor conditions after a divorce. Mothers who don't get alimony or just the loss of the extra income often sends children into a life of poverty."

  "But the senator's son isn't poor?" Matt said.

  "I know. That's what has me wondering a little. Wait a second. The place he was found. The old lady living next door said the place had been empty. Why was it empty?"

  Matt sighed. "A colleague told me yesterday that there was a tragedy about three years ago. A woman was shot by her own son. He was sick, mentally ill and had been since his dad left them. She had been pleading for help from the county to handle him because she couldn't afford it for him."

  "And so, he shot her. Poverty led to tragedy. Poverty after a divorce," I said, pointing at Matt. "Now…I have a feeling that Maddie Jones fits into this picture as well. As much as I don't want to, I feel like she is about to play her part in this twisted plan."

  "How?"

  "Her mother," I said. "After her parents divorced, she was forced into prostitution. Not an uncommon result in poorer neighborhoods. Now, Maddie must have felt shameful about her mother's profession."

  "So, you're thinking she represents the guilt and shame that children who go through a divorce often suffer?"

  I gave him a smile. "Exactly."

  He leaned back in his stool. "Wow. So, you're telling me we're looking for a killer who is angry about divorce?"

  I grabbed another cookie and dunked it in my coffee. "Yes. It must mean something to him, something profound."

  "But…that could be anyone?"

  I nodded and bit into the soaked cookie. "I know. He is highly intelligent. He is most likely a very well-functioning person, might have a family and children even. He probably even holds a steady job where he never takes any sick days, and his work is impeccable, and he is very likely part of your local community or has been at some point. Why else would he choose this place?"

  "Yak."

  "I know. The guy is highly delusional and thinks he's on some sort of mission. He might even think he's doing something good, like he's helping the world to be a better place. Those are some of the most dangerous killers you get. They see the flaws, but they also see the solution, and they're determined to let the world know. They want to fix us all."

  "So, he's a…"

  "He could also be a woman, just sayin'."

  "Okay, so he or she…is a delusional psychopath trying to change the world? Working for the greater good? And his—or her—kills are inspired by how divorce affects children? A killer who targets children of divorce?"

  I nodded. "And then the worst part."

  Matt's eyes grew wide. "There's a worse part?"

  I nodded. "I’m afraid so." I handed Matt a cookie for comfort. He took it with worried eyes.

  I tilted my head with an exhale. "This is not his last kill."

  Matt sighed resignedly. "I was afraid you might say something like that. There will be more?"

  "Most likely, yes. I fear that he's just getting started. He has more planned for us. That's why he has taken Maddie."

  Matt looked overwhelmed. I couldn't blame him.
This was quite a lot to take in.

  "So, what do we do next?"

  I swallowed the rest of my cookie and looked at him. "First of all, did you get someone to trace the email?"

  "The IT department is on it," Matt said. "I don't know how long it will take, though."

  "Okay, good. Next, we need to find Maddie before it’s too late. We start by making a list of possible suspects. On the top of mine is Coach Thomas Price. It was his car that she was seen getting into. That's where we begin. Can you tell me what his mother said last night? About the car?"

  He nodded. "She didn't have it anymore. It was stolen from her driveway a week ago. At first, she thought it was just some kids who had taken it for a joyride. It had happened before several times with her old car. It would come back eventually smelling of weed. But when it didn't come back the first couple of days, she figured her son had taken it back. That he needed it for something. She's old and didn't really want to get involved with the police over an old car that she didn't use much anyway, so she never reported it."

  "That sounds a little off to me," I said and made a mental note. "Plus, she's saying that her son still used it even though he gave it to her. If someone was trying to hide what they were up to, that would be a good way to do it. Hiding the car at your mother's, am I right?"

  "Sure."

  "All right. Is she divorced?"

  Matt nodded. "As a matter of fact, she is. She was married twice, and neither of the marriages lasted."

  "Could be a traumatic experience for a young boy, couldn't it? I say we take a closer look at him and put a search out for the car."

  Matt nodded and grabbed his phone. "Got it."

  As Matt walked out on the porch to call Cooper and have him do the search, I grabbed my phone and made a call of my own, following my strong hunch from earlier.

  Chapter 46

  Maddie was watching the box that was pushed up against the end wall. She had been staring at it for forever, listening to the scratching coming from inside of it. But there was one thing that worried her deeply. As the hours passed, the scratching grew lower, and soon it was very hard to hear.