Harry Hunter Mystery Box Set Page 4

  It was only a matter of time.

  The bell rang, and Sophia gathered her things, then grabbed her backpack, hurrying out of the classroom before William could talk to her.

  “Sophia,” his voice sounded behind her.

  She stopped in her tracks and closed her eyes briefly. She had hoped to avoid this.

  Sophia turned to look at him as he approached her, books under his arm. He was so devilishly handsome; it was unbearable.

  “Did the police come to your house?” he asked.

  She looked around to make sure no one could listen in on their conversation, then nodded.

  “Yes. And you?”

  “They’re guarding me all day. Some burned-out detective who doesn’t even try to hide that he’d rather see me dead and couldn’t care less. He looked like a drunk with a big shiner and everything.”

  “It’s awful…what happened to the others.”

  “I think it’s Lucy,” he said.

  Sophia stared at him with her eyes wide. Thinking about Lucy didn’t make her feel good. William shrugged as they walked into the hallway toward their next class.

  “I think she might be crazy enough, don’t you?” he continued.

  “I don’t…know.”

  “She’s been gone for eight months now,” he said.

  “So, you’re thinking she’s back with a vengeance?”

  William smiled nervously. “Something like that. She didn’t get what she wanted in the first place when the judge denied her case. But she’s not done yet. This could be her next step.”

  Sophia stopped at her locker and looked up at William and into his deep blue eyes. He smiled gently, then placed his hands on both of her upper arms, his glare piercing into her eyes. It made her feel uncomfortable, but she couldn’t pull away. He was holding her too tightly.

  “We can’t let her win. Do you hear me?”

  He spat the words out, hissing at her angrily. She shook her head while his hands were hurting her arms, and she was squirming in pain.

  “Of course not, William, of course not.”

  He kept staring into her eyes while crushing her arms with his touch until tears sprang to her eyes. His nostrils were flaring like he was almost enjoying it when finally, his smile returned, and he eased up on her.

  “Good,” he said and let go. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled, satisfied. He grabbed her chin and lifted her face upward to make sure he had her full attention. Looking into his eyes made her sick to her stomach.

  “We agree, then. We’ve got to stick together in this.”

  “Of course,” she said, feeling her sore arms. As he turned around on his heel and left, she ran to the bathroom and into a stall where she closed the door. She rolled up the sleeves on her shirt and looked at the huge purple bruises he had left there where his hands had held her tight. She sat down on the toilet, hid her face between her hands, and began to cry, shaking her head.

  “What have I done? What have I done?”

  Chapter 15

  I spent the day in one of the police department’s minivans that we used for stakeouts. It was equipped with a computer that was hooked up to our system back at the station, so it was possible to work while spending hours and hours staking someone out.

  I spent my time doing a little research. I knew it wasn’t my case, but it couldn’t hurt anything to take a look, could it?

  Fact was, I couldn’t stop thinking about this girl, Lucy Lockwood, the girl that had been raped and the one Fowler believed might be killing her old friends. I kept thinking about my sister, then wondering, if that had been her, would she have been able to kill because of what happened to her?

  Maybe.

  I, for one, wanted to kill the guy back then. I did track him down and beat him up on the street of his neighborhood a few weeks after it happened—nothing serious, just enough for him to feel it for a couple of weeks afterward and be reminded that I was watching him. But killing him? And the people who had witnessed it?

  It was hard to tell. The motive was there; I’d give Fowler that much. But in my book, it sounded more like something her father might attempt.

  Had they had a chance to talk to him yet?

  I opened the case file and read through parts of it, skipping the pictures from the boat since I had seen them thoroughly, and I had a pretty good photographic memory, which wasn’t always a good thing, especially not when seeing stuff like that. I couldn’t get the pictures out of my mind again once they got in there. They could haunt me for months…maybe even years.

  I read the father’s statement that Morales and his team had taken the day before. Mr. Lockwood had been out of town all weekend, on a business trip and had all the evidence they needed, including an itinerary and hotel receipts. When asked about the group of teenagers, if he knew any of them, he said that, yes, he knew they were all witnesses to what happened to his daughter, and that it was a terrible thing that they had died. Especially for him. He was still working with the DA to get them to reopen the case, and now his list of possible witnesses was dwindling. He had no interest in seeing them dead. It made no sense for him to kill any of them.

  He made a good point, I decided. If there was anyone he wanted dead, it was the boy. Why was William still alive?

  I shook my head, feeling a little confused when I received a text from Josie.

  I GOT A 98 ON MY MATH TEST.

  The message was followed by a sad face, telling me she had hoped for more. I chuckled at my overachieving daughter and texted her back.

  GOOD JOB, SWEETIE.

  I WANTED 100 THO. I MADE ONE MISTAKE. ONE.

  98 IS PERFECTLY FINE, I wrote back.

  I couldn’t help laughing at my daughter, yet hoping she’d never have bigger problems than that.

  I bit my lip when thinking about how hard she pushed herself and that she had done so ever since her mother got sick. She had always done well in school before that, but when her mother overdosed, she took it to a new level. Was she trying to prove something? Was she trying to distance herself from the life her mother had?

  Whatever it was, I just prayed that she wouldn’t burn out.

  I returned to the computer, then read through some more testimonies while the hours passed in front of the school. I opened the latest autopsy report that had come in just an hour earlier and looked through it. Then, I stopped. I reread something again and again, while images and sentences rushed through my mind.

  I grabbed my phone and called the Medical Examiner’s Office and my old friend Emilia Lopez.

  Chapter 16

  “Well, hello there, stranger, long time no see. What’s it been, two years?” Emilia said as she picked up the phone.

  I exhaled when hearing her voice. It brought back a lot of memories. Emilia had always been a close colleague of mine, always ready to help me with my cases and push me ahead in the line when I needed it. It had been a while, yes, because I hadn’t been involved in much detective work over the past couple of years.

  “What can I help you with?”

  “You found a chess piece on the boat?” I asked.

  “Well, I didn’t; the techs at the scene did,” Emilia said. “But, yes. They found a black rook on the deck of the boat. I didn’t know it was your case? I thought Morales and his team had it?”

  I cleared my throat and didn’t answer. “But there was a chess piece in the pocket of the girl found in the dumpster too, right?”

  Emilia exhaled. “Yes, a pawn. We found no fingerprints or any DNA on either of them, though.”

  “What about the one from the boat. Did you find any trace of neoprene from a wet suit?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, we did.”

  I leaned back my head in the car, leaning it against the neck rest while pondering over this. It fit well with my theory that the killer came from the ocean. If the killer had been a diver, swimming to the boat like it was my theory, he’d be wearing a wetsuit. At this time of year, he’d have to. The ocean was
warm in Florida, but this was January. This was still puzzling me. Did he come by his own boat? The boat with the girls was too far out for someone just to swim there.

  “The killer leaves these chess pieces, but why?” I asked. It wasn’t really for her as much as it was for me.

  Was there a message to it? It had to have some significance, something this killer was trying to tell us.

  Emilia chuckled. “That’s your department, Detective.”

  “Of course. Thanks for the update; I’ll leave you to your work.”

  “How’s Camille,” she said as I was about to hang up. “And Josie? How’s she holding up?”

  “She’s okay, I think. Hanging in there. Camille is the same.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that, Harry,” Emilia said. “You know how I loved Camille.”

  “We all did,” I said with an exhale. “We all did.”

  “Well, it’s good to have you back, Hunter,” Emilia said. “We missed you; well, I did. I missed you.”

  I hung up and stared at the display on my phone of an old photo of Camille and Josie that I used as a background. It was taken four years ago on our trip to New York…the last trip we had taken together as a family. I touched her face gently with my finger, letting it run down her smooth features. It hurt to know she would never look at me the way she did in this picture again. I would never get to see her with the love in her eyes that was so familiar.

  I miss being the one you love.

  I stared at my one true love, missing her, then couldn’t stop thinking about Lucy Lockwood. I lifted my glance and looked into the street, then realized I didn’t buy into the theory that Lucy had come back to kill everyone involved in her rape. But if she wasn’t the killer, then it opened up a whole other can of worms. She could be another victim. Or she could be in hiding because she knew who the killer was.

  No matter what, I had to find her, fast, before any more kids turned up dead.

  I looked at the school in front of me, then started up the minivan. I knew I was supposed to stay and watch William Covington. But there were still four hours till school was out. That left me plenty of time to get back here in time for when the bell rang.

  No one would even notice I had been gone.

  Chapter 17

  Valentina Lockwood’s hands were shaking as she served me coffee. She was a stunning woman in her mid-thirties, originally from Colombia, she told me.

  “The detective isn’t interested in knowing where you’re from,” her husband, Robert Lockwood, snapped.

  Valentina gave him a look, then shook her head.

  “No, of course not. I don’t know why I said that.”

  “Anything might turn out to be useful,” I said, addressed to her. “Let me be the judge of what is important and what is not.”

  “What is this regarding?” Robert Lockwood asked. “I had a couple of your colleagues here yesterday and told them I was out of town when those kids were killed. I had just gotten back. Why are you here again?”

  I sipped the coffee. It tasted heavenly.

  “This is really good coffee,” I said.

  Valentina smiled nervously. “Colombian. My mother sends the beans every now and then, whenever she can make it to the post office. Her legs aren’t what they used to be.”

  I smiled, turning up the charm to make her feel better about herself and comfortable in my presence. She was obviously broken.

  “Well, it’s the best coffee I’ve had in a very long time; thank you for that.”

  Mr. Lockwood put his cup down hard, causing my cup to jump. “Why are you here? Could we get to the point? I have a busy schedule, and I already told you people everything I know.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just…well, when I smelled that coffee, I had to ask for a cup. No, I’m not here to talk about the teenagers on the boat. I’m here because I want to find your daughter.”

  Mrs. Lockwood’s eyes grew wide. “Find her…but I thought you stopped the search; it has been so long?”

  I exhaled and nodded. “I know. I know. It has been a long time. But she is still a missing teenager and…”

  “They think she’s killing them,” Robert Lockwood said with a snort. “That’s the only reason he’s here.”

  Valentina wrinkled her forehead. “They do what?”

  “They think Lucy is back and that she’s killing the kids from that night because she didn’t get that Covington boy to pay for…what he did. Because they wouldn’t speak up against him.”

  “What? I don’t understand?” Valentina said. “They think…you think that my daughter…is…is…”

  “Of course, they do,” Robert continued. “They think either I did it or she did. It’s pretty obvious…as revenge.”

  “I don’t,” I said, swallowing yet another sip of that delicious warm substance that made my taste buds dance.

  “Excuse me?” Robert said.

  “I said, I don’t. I can’t talk for my police department, but I can tell you that I don’t believe your daughter is killing anyone. Why would she kill those people who are her only witnesses to the crime committed against her?”

  Robert stared at me, surprised.

  “I want to find your daughter, so we can prove that it wasn’t her. But I am going to need your help.”

  The two of them looked at one another. Tears sprang to Valentina’s eyes. She reached over to grab her husband’s hand.

  “You’ll have to excuse us,” Robert said, “if we find this a little hard to believe…that you are here to help. We’ve been met only with suspicion from the police department ever since we found our daughter…in the sand, beaten and…”

  “Raped,” I said, swallowing a knot growing in my throat, remembering how hard it was for my parents to say the word when it was Reese, how deeply it destroyed their faith in the justice system and the world. That was the only time I found my dad on the verge of losing his faith in God.

  He nodded, his eyes avoiding mine as they grew red-rimmed. “Yes, that. They never seemed to believe her story. They kept telling her she had been flirting with the boy, that they believed she wanted it to happen, but then she regretted it afterward when thinking about what her parents might say when they found out. They even had the audacity to tell her that she dressed provocatively and sexy to lure him in. No matter how much we protested, they kept on and on about how she had made the whole thing up, that they couldn’t find any evidence that she was raped. What about the bruises? I asked them. Still, the judge dismissed it because none of the witnesses dared to stand up for our Lucy. They are terrified of the kid, you know? That’s why.”

  “They’re terrified of William Covington?” I asked.

  Robert nodded and looked away for a brief second, then wiped his eyes with the palms of his hands.

  “It’s true,” Valentina added. “All the kids are scared of him. He’s been bullying them since middle school. No one ever dares to say anything. Lucy told me about him before. He once even made some guy burn himself with cigarettes all over his face, threatening to reveal to the rest of the school that he was gay. In middle school, he cut off a girl’s hair and shaved her head in the bathroom because she had told on him to the dean, telling him that William vaped in the bathroom. He never got in trouble, though, because he threatened the dean that if he told his parents, he’d reveal that the dean had an affair with one of the teachers. All the teachers are terrified of him too. No one will ever dare to stand up to him.”

  I wrote it all down on my notepad while thinking about the look William had given his mother at the house. She, too, seemed nervous around him, and slightly anxious.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Lockwood,” I said and lifted my eyes to look first him in the eyes, then her. “I need you to be completely honest with me. Do you have any idea where Lucy might be?”

  They both shook their heads.

  “We don’t,” she said. “We haven’t seen her since August fourteenth. She was at home when the call came from our lawyer. The j
udge had dismissed the case, he said. We sat down and talked to her about it. She ran to her room, and we let her stay up there for a few hours, crying it out while discussing what we wanted to do next. Robert said he’d appeal the decision and try to get the DA to reopen the case. We even talked about moving away. For months, she had to go to school every day and see her rapist there, laughing in her face, tormenting her while she could do nothing. We talked about signing her up for a boarding school to get her out of here, but we didn’t want him to win, you know? We wanted to see him behind bars where he belongs for everything he’s done, all the people he has tormented.”

  Valentina stopped and wiped her nose on a napkin. Her husband took over.

  “When we went up to her room later that night, she wasn’t there. Her bag was gone, and so were some of her clothes. We realized she had run away, but still hoped and prayed she’d come back soon.”

  “Did she have any money? A phone?”

  “She had taken some cash from my drawer,” Valentina said. “But it can’t have been more than maybe a thousand dollars.”

  “A teenager can get pretty far for less,” I said. “Does she have any relatives she might have gone to see? Or old friends?”

  “They’re all around here, and we’ve called each and every one,” Robert said. “I can give you the list we gave the police back then.”

  “Yes, please, and her phone? Did she take it?”

  “She left her phone here,” Robert said. “In her room.”

  “Can I see it?” I asked.

  “They already went through it when we reported her missing,” he said. “They went through all her stuff, but found nothing.”

  I nodded. “I know, but it never hurts to take a second look. Also, if she had a computer, I’d like to take a look at that as well, if you don’t mind.”