Chapter 31

Swirling blue-and-red lights lit up the tumultuous spring storm as Huck rolled to a stop in front of a now-quashed campfire. Laurel jumped out, her gun at her waist, and ducked beneath the crime scene tape, looking around wildly. Fish and Wildlife Officer Monty Buckley strode toward her.

"Where's the phone?" she asked.

Monty pointed to one of two phones partially resting against the stone ring around the campfire. "It's there, left on. We were able to trace it easily. A gun, a CZ, is resting against that tree over there." The wind burst against them, throwing branches around as if having a tantrum.

Laurel ducked and held a hand out to protect her head. Why would Jason leave a weapon outside in the rain? "Have we found anything?"

"No," Monty said. "Jason Abbott has been living here, from what I can tell from the cabin, but I don't see a vehicle. We have people out scouting for it."

None of this tracked. Why would Jason call her to say he couldn't go on? Why hang up but leave the phone on? The man was smart enough to know that the GPS would immediately be traced.

"This isn't good," Huck said.

Monty sighed. "Should you be here?"

Huck shrugged. "So far, there isn't any true connection between Jason Abbott and the three murdered blondes, so right now, yeah. I'm off the drowning cases but not Abbott."

That was quite the ambitious extrapolation. Yet, Laurel wanted Huck there. He was the only one she trusted who was still around, although she was becoming accustomed to working with Monty. "We'll find Abbott," she said.

Monty nodded. "We traced the call as soon as you contacted your techs. It took us about twenty-five minutes to get out here. We hurried, but we didn't find anybody else on the road. There have been no sightings of Abbott yet."

"How many back roads are there from this area?" Laurel asked.

Huck sighed. "A lot. There are many mountain roads, and even trails that a vehicle could have gone down."

"So he may have left the state?" Her head pounded. Why would he call and then disappear? Or had he gone after somebody new?

"Why would he call you?" Huck asked.

"I don't know. It's part of his game." She wandered over to the scraped-clean campfire. He had burned his journals. She would've bet almost anything he wouldn't have done that, but Abigail would. She would've wanted this more than anything. "Did you secure any salvageable pages?"

"No," Monty said. "We gathered all of the ashes, but they were burned pretty good and then got wet in the rain."

Jason would hate for his memories to be burned. Laurel ducked as a pinecone burst through the air. "We need somebody at Abigail's place—now."

Huck jolted. "You think?"

"Absolutely. We have to see if she's home." Had Jason taken her? What kind of hold did Abigail still have on the serial killer?

"I don't have anybody to spare," Huck said.

"Call in the county police or even the city," Laurel said.

He grasped his radio. "Good idea. Just a sec." He loped toward his truck, his body strong and sure in the pounding storm.

Wiping rain off her face, she bent down to look at the campfire spot. The techs had done an admirable job of securing everything. "Nothing appeared readable to you?"

Monty pushed sopping wet hair away from his face. "Smell that?"

Laurel sniffed the air. "Yeah. Is that turpentine?"

"It's an accelerant. We can send these to the lab, what's left, but—"

"We're not going to get anything." Laurel couldn't believe this.

She straightened and walked across the campfire area to a dilapidated cabin with holes in the wood. Jason must've been freezing out here. Moving inside, she stayed out of the way of the crime techs who were already dusting the area. The place held a mattress on the ground with several heavy blankets next to cans of chili and soup. He must've cooked over the fire outside.

Had he fled? Called her to say goodbye to torment her?

She crouched to look at the cans. The most common soup brand. They'd be hard to trace. Right next to the bed was a photograph of Jason with Haylee, both smiling in front of a garden. Why had he kept the picture?

Huck returned. "I have somebody heading to Abigail's now, and we've had a report of an explosion close to the river beneath these peaks."

"Explosion?" Laurel pushed to her feet.

"Yeah," Huck noted. "A group of fishermen camping out, planning to ice fish in the river tomorrow. They saw a huge explosion and reported that a vehicle is on fire right now."

Laurel looked around. "Is there a place that Abbott could have driven a truck off around here?"

"There's Widow's Peak," Huck said. "It's about fifteen minutes from here by foot. Driving, maybe two or three. I'll send a deputy there, and I have people going to check out the scene below. It could just be some kids goofing off."

Experience told her nothing was that easy. She walked back outside with him. "Let's search this area as soon as the techs are finished."

"You bet."

The wind whipped the freezing rain sideways, and she pulled her hood closer over her head.

"Why don't you wait in the truck until they're finished, and then I'll help you search." Huck used the question form, but his tone suggested a command. His overprotective side had just reemerged.

She wanted to argue but couldn't see any reason to stay in the rain, so she ran over to the truck and jumped inside, looking back to talk to the dog. "Jason Abbott isn't somebody who would drive off a cliff," she said, as Aeneas watched her with his soft black eyes. "If anything, he's headed to a city to continue hunting people."

Except that wasn't right either. She knew he wouldn't be able to let go of his fantasies of killing Abigail and Laurel. He just couldn't. It wasn't in his nature. She tried to think through the entire case for a good twenty minutes until Huck returned.

"They're about finished, so we can search. But I have to tell you, there's not much around. The deputy I sent to Widow's Peak didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but the wind and rain have been wild." Huck's radio buzzed, and he pressed the button on the device attached to his dash. "Rivers."

"It's Sheriff York. I headed to the base of the cliff like you asked."

Huck leaned inside, bringing the scent of pine and rain with him. "Hi, Sheriff. What have you found?"

"I found a burning truck by the edge of the river."

Laurel shut her eyes.

Huck exhaled loudly. "Is there a body in the truck?"

"Oh, yeah. There's a body in the truck. It's burnt almost beyond recognition. I've had to call in the state cops on this one. We don't have enough manpower," York said loudly, the wind combatting his voice.

Laurel focused on the radio. "Did you see anything else?"

"I can't get close enough. The truck is still burning. All I can see is a body and a skull on the dash."

"That's all right," Laurel said wearily. "I think we know who it is."

Huck clicked the radio back into place. "Does Jason Abbott seem like someone who'd kill himself?"

"No," Laurel said, every bone in her body aching. "There's no way Jason Abbott would've ended his own life. He was a narcissist, and he was out for revenge. There's only one person I can think of smart enough to kill him."

Huck's phone buzzed, and he lifted it to his ear. "Yeah? . . . Really? . . . All right, thanks. Bye."

She didn't like his tone. "What is it?"

"The Genesis Valley police officer I sent to Abigail's home found her in her nightgown, obviously fresh out of bed. She was irritated to have been awakened and happily gave the CCTV footage from her house to the officer."

"Her camera faces just the front of the home and that whole street but not the backyard, correct?" Laurel asked.

"Yes. I'm having the officer go door to door to retrieve all of the CCTV he can."

She slumped farther down in her seat. "They won't find anything."

"I know."

* * *

After an essentially sleepless night, Laurel ignored a call from the deputy director of the FBI as Huck parked in the long field in front of the Genesis Valley Community Church.

He glanced at her phone. "You're not answering George's call?"

"Not right now." She feared he'd pull her off the case, and her blood hummed in the way it always did when she was getting closer to answers.

"Stay there." Huck opened his door and stepped out.

Why in the world would she stay there?

He crossed around the truck and opened her door. "It's icy out here."

Ah, the overprotectiveness again. She held his arm as she stepped down, and her boots did indeed slide. She latched onto his elbow to steady herself. "You weren't jesting."

"I rarely am," Huck said grimly.

They moved back to the main drive and maneuvered the distance to the front of the church among members of the congregation. The storm had been brutal the night before, and branches and mangled pine cones covered the ground. She wasn't one to go on feelings, but the people trudging around them, as well as the very air hanging over them, seemed somber.

They wandered inside the sprawling building and into the narthex, where a woman wearing a long purple skirt handed them a program. Uma stood on the other side of the aisle, also handing out stapled programs. Was she still dating Zeke?

"Thank you." Laurel continued into the nave.

"Where do you want to sit?" Huck asked, his hand at her elbow.

She continued down the aisle and entered the front pew. "Right up front."

"By the aisle," Huck said, sitting instantly.

"All right." She sat next to him and looked up at the currently vacant pulpit. Beyond it lay a chancel and then the altar, with its stunning stained-glass windows framing jagged Orphan's Peak across the river. The name caught her attention. "Who named all of these mountains and peaks?"

"I have absolutely no idea." Huck shifted his weight on the wooden bench.

She looked at him. "Are you uncomfortable?" It was supposition, but based on the rigidity of his shoulders, she likely guessed correctly.

"No, I'm fine." He looked over his shoulder.

Ah, the captain did not like to have people behind him. Whenever they went anywhere in public, he always sat, if he could, with his back to a wall and his gaze on a door.

"Why do you ask about the names?" he asked.

"We have Snowblood Peak, Orphan's Peak, Viper's Mountain, Widow's Peak, Crow Mountain, Witch Creek. Is there a Happy Mountain around here? A Gleeful Mountain or a Cheerful Dancing Mountain?"

He chuckled, the harsh lines in his face relaxing. "Not that I know of, but maybe I can write a letter to somebody."

"I was just curious."

A choir at the far end of the south transept began to sing a hymn that she'd never heard before. The pretty song created a lovely picture about life and a glorious future.

"Hmm," Huck said. "I thought they would've been more traditional."

As did Laurel, but she enjoyed the song.

He grunted. She hadn't learned to interpret all of his grunts, so she didn't know what that meant.

Pastor John Govern soon took the pulpit, dressed in a black robe with a light purple stole. "Hello, my friends." He lifted both hands. "It is good to see you all today." His gaze caught on Laurel and Huck, and he faltered before surveying the crowd.

Laurel looked behind them to see the entire nave full of parishioners. Many people even stood in the back.

"Do you believe in God?" Huck whispered.

She considered the question. "I do believe in a higher power. Otherwise, none of this makes any sense. We can call him God." She had a feeling they had absolutely no idea about the true essence of this higher power, but she'd also seen the intricacies of the human body and the universe at large. They hadn't been created by coincidence.

"Thank you for coming." Pastor John's voice easily reached the back of the church. He appeared commanding and reassuring at the same time. "I've been thinking a lot about community and trust."

Laurel settled in to watch the pastor. His voice rose and fell in a rhythmic cadence that sounded very charming and engaging. He soon had many of the people responding with agreement.

"He's very good," Huck whispered.

Laurel nodded. "I believe that's called charisma."

"I believe it is," Huck said dryly.

Pastor John preached about fellowship, trust, and community, and how important it was for each of the congregation members to watch each other's backs.

"I think he might be creating friends," she whispered.

Huck nodded. "He's definitely hitting hard the ideals of loyalty and small-town community. That's interesting."

Pastor John finished with a flourish and then stepped down to take a seat in the north transept.

Pastor Zeke Caine then advanced to the pulpit, his bald head gleaming, his body looking tight and powerful beneath the black robe. His stole was made up of a darker purple with bright silver threads.

"That was a lovely sermon, Pastor John," he said, his booming voice reaching the highest rafter.

"Whoa," Huck murmured.

Laurel swallowed. She'd never heard his pastor voice, commanding yet comfortable, with a heavy thread of power. Her hatred for him felt red-hot, and she wondered if it was okay to feel such emotion in a church. Probably not. Of course, it wasn't appropriate for a pastor to be preaching after the atrocities that Zeke had committed.

Zeke also talked about fellowship and community, and then he switched topics abruptly to right and wrong, saying that sometimes doing the right thing or saying the right thing could be painful.

Huck slid an arm over Laurel's shoulders and pulled her close. "Buckle up," he whispered.

She could feel something coming but couldn't quite discern where Zeke was going.

He sighed and looked down at the pulpit before placing both hands on the polished wood and facing the congregation. "This is very difficult for me to discuss. But as Pastor John eloquently stated, we are a community, and we must be loyal to each other. A basic tenet of that loyalty is honesty. Do you agree with me?"

Several "yeses" and "you bets" and "of courses" echoed through the crowd.

"Good." He sighed. "We are recording this sermon, although our nationalized television debut has been postponed until this spring because of events happening in town." His face shifted into somber lines. "In an effort to be transparent and honest with my community, I have to unfortunately inform you that our own Pastor John Govern is under investigation for the murders that have happened here recently."

A shocked gasp echoed through the crowd.

Pastor Zeke held up a hand. "Let's not jump to conclusions, and we must be loyal. There are not enough facts, but Pastor John has admitted to having an affair with Teri Bearing, a married woman and a victim of a brutal killer. I believe we all need to be honest about that. How many of you knew about this breach of trust?"

Several people in the parish raised their hands.

"Holy crap," Huck muttered.

Pastor Zeke's chin dropped. "I wish more of you had come to me. I do appreciate the few of you who did. However, as a church, we need to address this situation. Sin is something that needs to be eradicated. Forgiveness, of course, must be granted. We are all human. But first, we need to deal with the sin."

Pastor John jumped up and stormed out of the church via a back door.

Laurel could almost feel sorry for the man.

Pastor Zeke shook his head. "I do apologize for bringing in such negativity today, but secrets are what destroy a community." He stared directly at Laurel as he spoke. "No matter how closely guarded, a secret always comes to light. Also, anybody who sins and fails to adhere to the ten commandments shall pay. ‘Thou shall not commit adultery' and ‘Thou shall honor thy father and mother' are two good examples."

Huck leaned forward.

Zeke looked away from Laurel and smiled. "We have a wonderful community here. We will get through this together, my friends. I promise you."