Chapter 25

Simone and Hunter were sitting on the sofa, laughing, when I walked into the office.

I sat beside them, brow raised. “What’s so funny?”

“Simone just told me a joke,” Hunter said. “Want to hear it?”

“Sure.”

“What name would a detective use if she decided to open a real estate business?”

I gave the question some thought.

Nothing came to mind at first.

And then …

“I’m guessing it has something to do with a play on the word homes,” I said. “You know, as in Sherlock Holmes.”

Hunter shook her head and said, “Shoot, you’re no fun.”

“Why? Because I guessed it right?”

“Close enough—the real estate business would be called Holmes Homes.”

Corny, but cute.

I moved the conversation in a more serious direction.

“Simone, have you spoken to the victims’ families?” I asked.

“I was just going to message you about what I’ve found out,” Simone said. “Brynn and Aubree’s parents no longer live in the area. Brynn’s parents are in Texas, and Aubree’s moved to North Carolina.”

“Did you talk to them?”

“I spoke to Brynn’s mother on the phone. She made it clear they’ve left their daughter’s murder in the past. They want no involvement in our investigation. She asked me not to call again, and then she hung up on me.”

I understood Brynn’s mother’s reaction to Simone’s call.

Dredging up the painful past would prove too hard for some to bear, a pain they wouldn’t want to go through a second time.

“What about Aubree’s parents?” I asked. “Did you speak to them?”

“They divorced about a year after Aubree was murdered. I left a couple of messages for her mother. She hasn’t returned my calls. Her father talked to me, but he said nothing of significance. He doesn’t believe he could be of any help with our investigation.”

Tough crowd.

But not unexpected.

“Seems like you struck out with the girls’ parents,” I said. “What about Aidan, Jackson, and Owen? Do their families still live in the area?”

“Not in Cambria, but close enough. They’re all in the central coast. I’ve met with all three of the boys’ parents. Which family visit do you want to hear about first?”

Based on what I knew about them so far, Jackson had seemed to be the orchestrator when it came to stirring up trouble. He also had a controlling stepfather whose negative influence could have been the reason for Jackson’s rebellious behavior.

I started out easy.

“Tell me about Owen,” I said. “Everything I know about him leads me to believe he was a good person, someone who could be relied upon. I’ll bet he was a good support system to his friends, and in some cases, he acted as the voice of reason.”

“Everything you’ve heard is in line with what his parents told me,” Simone said. “I wasn’t at their house five minutes before they whipped out his baby books. And when I say baby books, they have a book for each year of his life.”

“How do they feel about us looking into the murders again?”

“Both parents are on board. His mother started crying when I mentioned it, and his father said he hopes we catch the guy this time. Both parents are willing to assist us in any way they can.”

“Sounds like they’re good people.”

“Two of the nicest people I’ve ever met. Super religious, too.”

“In what way?”

“Owen’s mother prays for the man who murdered their son. Even though she doesn’t know who he is, she told me she’s forgiven him in her heart. She believes it was the only way she could accept what happened and move on.”

Simone raised a brow, exchanging a curious glance with Hunter.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s nothing,” Simone said.

“It’s something.”

“It’s just … you’re doing the thing.”

“What thing?”

“The thing you do … you know, with your fingers.”

Simone pointed at my hands, and I looked down.

“You rub your fingers for two reasons. One, when you’re nervous. And two, when there’s something you’re keeping from everyone else. And you don’t get nervous often. So … is there anything you’d like to tell us?”

She was far more observant than I realized.

“I’m not keeping anything from the two of you,” I said. “What I mean to say is … yes, there’s something I haven’t mentioned, but it’s not because I’m trying to keep it to myself. It just happened last night.”

Simone and Hunter leaned in, smiling.

“Do tell,” Hunter said.

“Yes,” Simone added. “Please do.”

“I had a dream last night,” I said. “And before you ask … yes, it was that kind of dream.”

“Ooh, tell us about it,” Simone said. “Give us all the juicy details.”

“I was in the park. Owen was there. He said something about not being able to move on from this life to the next.” I filled them in on the rest of the dream, ending with, “What’s important is, Owen looked just like he did in the crime-scene photos. He had on the same clothing he was wearing when he died. His wounds were the same. But there was one key difference. In my dream, he was wearing a chain around his neck. In the photos in the case file, he isn’t wearing one.”

“Do you think it holds some significance?” Simone asked.

“It might.”

“What did the chain look like?”

“It was gold and thick. Some of the boys on the football team received them from their coach.”

“Huh,” Simone said. “Give me a second.”

She reached into one of her pant pockets, pulled out her cell phone, and clicked on her photos. She began flipping through them, saying, “Nope. Nope. Not in this one either.”

A few more swipes, and she smiled, turning the phone around as she pointed at a photo of Owen, Aidan, and Jackson. They were all standing next to each other, arm in arm.

“Chains like these?” Simone asked.

I bent down, narrowing my eyes as I took a good look.

“Yes,” I said. “Where did you get this photo?”

“Owen’s mother gave me a tour of his bedroom while I was there. They haven’t touched a single thing in it since he died. I snapped a bunch of photos he had pinned to a corkboard above his dresser. This was one of them.”

Hunter piped up, saying, “Do you think they were wearing the chains the day they died?”

“I think it’s possible,” I said.

“His mother said they wore them all the time,” Simone said.

“Given they weren’t in the crime-scene photos, it makes me wonder whether they had them on that day. If so, it would mean someone removed them from around their necks.”

“The girls wouldn’t have been wearing matching jewelry, I’d guess,” Simone said. “Why take something from the boys and not the girls?”

“Maybe the killer took something from them as well.”

“If he did, it’s not in the case file, and as far as I know, none of the parents mentioned anything about missing items.”

“Serial killers are known for keeping items from their victims as trophies,” Hunter said. “But we’re dealing with a mass murderer in my opinion, not a serial killer. Serial killers almost always strike again, and this guy hasn’t, as far as we know.”

I gave Hunter’s comments some thought.

“I’m not sure why none of the parents mentioned a missing chain their sons may have been wearing the day they died,” I said. “And we don’t know for sure whether any items were taken from the girls or not. Maybe a memento was taken. As to your comment about an item being removed as a trophy, I suppose it’s possible. But the more I think about it, the more I believe there would have been another reason for doing what he did.”

“A reason like ...?”

“If we consider what we know, they were all murdered in a brutal way. It’s like whoever killed the teens that day was angry. I’d even go so far as to say he felt hatred toward them and even justified in what he did. Removing the chains could have been because he felt they were unworthy of them.”

It was just a guess, mere speculation.

We didn’t know if the chains were even worn by the boys that day.

“So what now?” Simone asked.

Now we get back to the topic at hand.

“Let’s set our theories to the side for a moment and discuss your visit with Aidan’s parents, Simone.”

Simone rolled her eyes.

“That bad, eh?” I said.

“Aidan’s parents are a piece of work,” she said.

“In what way?”

“In every way. Rich, hoity-toity types. They have six children, and to hear them talk about Aidan … it was almost like it wasn’t a big deal to lose one kid when five of their other kids are still alive. I don’t mean to suggest they didn’t love him. I’m saying they live their lives for the children they have left. The way they talk about Aidan is almost like he never existed, like he’s nothing more than a fleeting memory.”

“How could a parent do such a thing?” Hunter asked.

I could think of a reason why.

It made the loss of their son more bearable. For some people, pretending a loved one never existed was a lot easier than living with the pain that came with knowing they had no choice but to live the rest of their lives without their beloved.

“What did Aidan’s parents say about him?” I asked.

“Not much. They visit his grave once a year on his birthday. Oh, and at Thanksgiving dinner, they go around the table and honor his life with a memory, something they remember about him. Other than those two days, they prefer not to discuss him at all.”

Pretending they were fine didn’t mean they were. Without processing their son’s death, they never would heal—not to the fullest extent.

“What do they think about the case being investigated again?” I asked.

“They were ambivalent and didn’t seem to care either way. They wished us luck on solving the case, but they believe the killer wasn’t caught then and he won’t be caught now.”

And then there was one.

“We’ve got your visits with Aidan and Owen’s parents out of the way,” I said. “Let’s talk about Jackson.”

“Ahh, Jackson,” Simone said. “My visit with his mother and stepfather was interesting, if not surprising. I’ll start by saying this … you saved the best for last.”