The Lion, the Lamb, the Hunted: A Psychological Thriller

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“Beautiful place you have here,” I said.

She acknowledged the comment with a nod and smile, then moved behind her desk, nearly obscured by the boxes. All I could see was a tuft of gray hair above the stacks of paper.

“Are all of these your notes?” CJ asked.

Ruth materialized at the other end of her desk. “The rest is in the attic.”

“There’s more?”

Ruth rested a hand on one of the boxes then glanced at it. “What I gave you years ago were the things that I felt pertained to the Kingsley case. I’d been gathering information on Bill long before that … and long after.”

CJ nodded.

“He killed my daughter.” She placed a firm hand on her hip. “There’s not a doubt in my mind. I was never able to prove it, but I know.”

I said, “Mrs. Johns, do you have any idea where he is now?”

She raised both hands, palms facing out. “God only knows. Hopefully as far from here as possible. I’m scared to death of him, even after all these years.”

CJ and I exchanged glances, then I said, “When’s the last time you saw him?”

“He disappeared right after Madison died.”

“And they were never able to prove he killed her?” CJ said.

“I wish. The sheriff couldn’t show it was anything other than an accident, so case closed. Just like that.”

CJ eyed me for a moment, then returned her attention to Ruth. “It’s been a while since I looked at the notes. There were references to Jean, if I recall.”

“And her boy, too,” she added.

“Nathan?” I asked.

“Well, not by name. But I could tell it was him because he’d refer to Jean, then mention the boy shortly after. There was no mistaking who that was.”

CJ said, “Ms. Johns—”

“Call me Ruth, dear.”

“Very well, Ruth. Did you know the Kingsleys at all?”

“Knew of them, just through all the media attention, but if you mean personally, then no, I’d never met any of them.”

“Did Bill?” I asked.

Ruth shook her head back and forth quickly. “Not that I’m aware, which is why I was so surprised when I came across them in the notes.”

“We’d like to see them again, if you don’t mind,” CJ said.

“Sure,” Ruth replied, “Not a problem. But just so you know, there’s nothing about the Kingsleys you didn’t see the first time. The rest are my own notes on my daughter’s death.”

CJ gave the boxes a quick glance. “We’d like to look through all of them, if you don’t mind. Even the ones in the attic.”

Ruth seemed to be contemplating the idea but not at all falling in with it. Speaking very slowly now, she said, “I’m not sure why you’d need the information about my daughter, and I’m a little hesitant to let it go. It took years of hard work. I’d really rather not.”

“We just don’t know what might pertain to the Kingsley case,” I said, “and we want to be sure we don’t miss anything.”

She looked at me, looked at CJ, but still looked troubled. Said nothing.

“I promise we’ll take good care of them,” CJ said. “You have my word.”

A cautious nod. “All right. I suppose. But it’ll take you a while to go through them all. They’re not very organized, and there’s a lot there.”

“By the way,” I said, changing the subject before she changed her mind, “what did Bill look like?”

She rolled her eyes. “Quite unremarkable, as far as I was concerned. Never understood what Maddie saw in him. It was rather a sticking point between us. She always did go for the rough-and-tumble types. A beautiful girl, my Madison, could’ve had any man she wanted. Why she chose him, I’ll never know.”

“Rough-and-tumble?” CJ asked.

She smiled. “That’s a nice way of saying redneck, dear.”

CJ grinned.

“About six feet tall,” Ruth continued. “Brown hair. Blue eyes.”

“Did he wear a cowboy hat?”

“All the time. Don’t think I ever saw him without one. It was all part of his image, you know, tough guy, Mr. Macho. Made me ill.”

“Did he smoke?” CJ asked.

Ruth gazed at her with curiosity. “Like a chimney. Why?”

“Nothing special,” CJ said. “We’re just looking at a few loose ends that never got tied up in the case.”

I added, “Trying to figure out if Bill has any connection.”

“I see,” she said, nodding slowly, watching me a little more carefully now. “Well then, I hope the notes help you find what you’re looking for. I’ll call Sebastian to help move boxes, if you’d like.”

“Won’t be necessary, Ms. Johns…I mean, Ruth,” CJ said. “I think we can manage.”

We each grabbed a box, began moving them out.

“Just one thing,” Ruth said just as we reached the door.

We turned around.

She alternated her gaze between me and CJ, appeared to be stuck on a thought, and then, “I don’t know how much you really know about Bill … but the man’s evil. To the core. I knew it from the day I met him. If you find out he’s alive, stay away from him.” She frowned. “If I just could have convinced Madison of that, maybe she—”

“But it never stopped you,” I said. “I mean, knowing how dangerous he was and all, it didn’t stop you from going after him for your daughter’s death. Weren’t you afraid he’d come after you?”

She raised a hand. “Oh, I was plenty afraid. Still am.”

“But you seem just as determined as ever, dead or alive.”

She looked directly into my eyes, and hers began to glisten. “Do you have any children, Mr. Bannister?”

I shook my head.

“Then you may not understand this…or maybe you will. Losing a child is the most painful thing a mother can endure. It rips at your soul, like a part of your heart’s been torn right out. I truly sympathized with that Kingsley woman, I really did, and I suppose in some way, I identified with her, too. I know what she went through. It never seems to get better, either; in fact, it just gets worse every day. I guess what I’m trying to say is, sometimes even fear is no match for a mother’s love.”

I thought about that, and then, “So you’re not really worried he’ll find out…”

“Oh, I’m plenty worried.”

“But not enough to stop.”

“I’ll never stop. I’ll go to my grave trying to see justice is served where my daughter’s concerned. I owe her that much. It’s just that I seem to go back and forth between pursuing the man and being scared to death of him.”

The reason, I now realized, for all the security precautions.

I noticed her hands trembling even more so than before. Then I looked up, met her eyes, and saw fear in them, plain and raw.

“If you want to know the truth,” she continued with a shaky voice, “I can’t tell you the number of nights I’ve sat up worrying that someday he’ll come back, and I’ll be the one floating in a lake…or maybe something even worse.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

We loaded the car full of boxes, putting most of them in the trunk, the rest stacked so tall in the back seat