River of Bones by Dan Padavona (psychology books to read .TXT) 📗

and gathering flies. The woman’s eyes stared at him, lifeless, frozen in perpetual horror.

“Tell Virgil he’ll have a busy night,” the trooper said.

Gallows humor, common among cops. Thomas heard too much of it from the homicide detectives in Los Angeles. He understood its purpose. You had to laugh at the dark and whistle while you passed the graveyard. Otherwise, the horrors would debilitate you.

“Virgil is on the way,” Aguilar said behind him.

Thomas descended the ladder, the coppery scent of blood thick in the air. They’d found the last missing friend.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Monday, August 16th

2:05 a.m.

 

The news crews from the murder scene converged on the hospital as the clock passed the witching hour. Three officers stationed outside the emergency room doors prevented reporters from entering. Inside, a mix of friends and family members of the victims huddled together on uncomfortable vinyl couches, some in bathrobes, others with ruffled hair, shirts hanging out over their pants.

Spotting Aguilar near a door with DO NOT ENTER written across the front, Thomas veered around the throng. She tilted her head toward a blonde woman in a sweatshirt and pajama bottoms. A man in bifocals rubbed the woman’s shoulder and whispered into her air.

“That’s Skye Feron’s parents,” said Aguilar.

“Have they seen their daughter?”

“Briefly. The mother refused to leave her daughter’s side until the doctors forced her out. They’re running tests, and a psychiatrist is coming in to evaluate Skye.”

“So it doesn’t appear she’s going home soon.”

“Afraid not.” Aguilar held his eyes. “What about you? How are you holding up?”

He smirked.

“I’m sure Dr. Mandal will tell me. She always does.”

“It’s not a joke, Thomas. You’ve shot three murderers since April. One is enough to play with anyone’s head. Are you sure you’re okay?”

He released a breath. No, he wasn’t sure. His thoughts meandered back to his father’s words. Did his parents worry about Thomas falling victim to a stray bullet, or the daily stresses of the job catching up to him? Both paths led to destruction.

“I’ll get through.”

“Go home. Get some sleep. You look like death warmed over.”

“I feel like it too.” He brushed his hair back and studied Skye Feron’s parents. Wondered what they must be thinking. They must be relieved Skye was back in their lives, yet terrified Alec Samson had stolen her sanity. “Not until I interview the women.”

“They won’t let you speak to Skye Feron. Not yet.”

“Then I’ll start with Justine and stay until the psychiatrist clears Skye.”

“I can conduct the interviews, Thomas.”

“Of course, you can. And when you decide you want to be sheriff, I’ll hand the responsibility over to you.”

“You’re not thinking about quitting, are you?”

He touched her shoulder.

“Not yet.”

Justine Adkins lifted her eyes when Thomas entered her room. The nurse outside the door gave him ten minutes to speak with Justine. Not a second longer. The woman’s auburn hair appeared colorless beneath the florescent strip lighting. Almost black. Her curls matted against her face. A bandage wrapped around her head.

“Ms. Adkins, I’m Sheriff Thomas Shepherd.”

She lowered her eyes and nodded.

“You’re the one who shot Alec.”

“Do you remember Dawn Samson’s brother?”

She issued a choked sob and swiped a tissue under her nose.

“Vaguely. He said little during school. The kids used to claim his parents beat him.”

Thomas gestured at the bandage.

“How’s the head?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about Skye. They won’t let me see her.”

“In time, you will. The doctors are checking her now. Be patient.”

She fidgeted in the chair, favoring her shoulder.

“Is it true? Alec murdered Paige?”

Thomas shifted his jaw.

“I’m sorry.”

Justine broke down and sobbed into her hands.

“We asked for this. All of us. But I never imagined it would end in murder.”

Thomas pulled a chair beside Justine’s and turned it around. He rested his elbows on the chair back.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

As Thomas took notes, Justine recounted the kidnapping in the supermarket parking lot and her imprisonment in Alec Samson’s basement.

“I didn’t recognize him from high school. We barely knew each other, and he’d changed a lot since graduation. Still, I realized it had to be Alec after he spoke about Dawn.” Justine’s eyes traveled to the wall and seemed to look toward a different time and place. “I didn’t do enough to stop Paige. We’d been friends for so long—Skye, Paige, and me—and I didn’t want to lose our friendship. But the bullying had gotten out of hand. Paige wouldn’t listen, so I went to Dawn instead.”

Thomas raised his eyes.

“Can you explain?”

“I wanted to be her friend. Dawn didn’t trust me at first. Who could blame her? I ran with Paige, after all, and I’d stood by while Paige bullied Dawn at the tennis courts. We should have reported Paige, should have talked to her parents. I’ll take the guilt to my grave. Dawn kept me at arm’s length because of the trust issues. After several weeks, she realized I really was her friend. The problem was, I couldn’t watch her twenty-four hours a day. It seemed Paige was always there to harass Dawn whenever I wasn’t around to help.”

“That must have upset Paige. You befriending her enemy.”

Justine pushed her hair out of her eyes.

“She never found out. Dawn and I hid it well. I don’t even think Alec knew.”

“Did Skye?”

She shook her head.

“I’d meant to discuss it with Skye. She’d come to me many times, concerned over Paige’s treatment of Dawn. Skye and Paige drifted apart. Skye always claimed she was too busy with sports to hang out. In the end, Alec blamed all of us for what happened. He was right to do so. But he realized Skye wanted to help back then, and I suspect that’s why he kept her alive.” A shiver rolled through her body. “He held Skye for six years and nobody found out.”

Except Alec’s cousin, Cathy Webb. And she paid the ultimate price.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Monday, August 16th

11:10 a.m.

 

LeVar peeked out of the alleyway as Anthony Fisher exited his apartment complex. The boy shot an anxious look across the street, as though he sensed eyes on him.