The Night Killer

Someone, probably David, had handed out drinks from her refrigerator. While she was in the shower, Frank had mixed her a drink of milk, Carnation Instant Breakfast, protein powder, orange juice, and strawberry yogurt. It was one of her favorite power drinks. She took it and looked at him gratefully. He guided her to the stuffed chair and put her feet on the ottoman. Those at the table pulled their chairs around to face her. Diane took a few sips of the drink before she began telling them her story.

Chapter 11

Diane told the story as if giving a report-clear, concise, dispassionate. She captured their attention from the start with the tree falling on the hood of her SUV and the appearance of the skeleton. Their jaws dropped an inch and they stared at her. Hector started to speak. Diane saw Jin giving him a warning glance, apparently sensing that she needed to get it out. Like her tears, the story needed to flow out of her in its own way and time.

She told them about Slick-though she hadn’t known his name at the time-trying to grab her; about her trek through the woods in the lightning and rain, chased by dogs-or at least trailed by dogs; about the mysterious stranger; about finding the Barres in their home, still in their nightwear, with their throats cut. She described how she and Deputy Conrad went back to the house on Massey Road, and finding that her things had been rifled through. She described meeting Slick Massey and Tammy Taylor. She also told them about the plastic skeleton they tried to pawn off as part of her “delusion.” She took sips of her drink during the story, and by the time the story was done, so was her power drink.

David let out a sigh and rubbed the dark fringe around his mainly bald head. “I don’t know where to start,” he said.

“Well, dang, Diane,” said Izzy, “I figured you were just out of gas somewhere and couldn’t get to a telephone.”

Diane smiled, glad for the levity. Oddly, no one had any questions immediately. Perhaps not odd at all. Like David, none of them knew quite where to start.

“So,” said Hector, “they pilfered your stuff, and he brought it back and threw it at your feet. What was that about?”

“They don’t want anyone investigating the skeleton, I suppose,” said Diane. “And it was also a thinly veiled threat. He was telling me he knows where to find me.”

“The bastard,” said David. “The low-life bastard.”

“Well, who was the skeleton?” asked Hector. He had removed his lab coat, revealing a bright blue-and-yellow Hawaiian shirt. He and his brother looked vaguely like Elvis-if one squinted one’s eyes-and sometimes they subtly dressed like him.

“How would she know that?” said Jin.

“I thought maybe someone was missing or something. It’s just really weird,” Hector said.

“You think this stranger you met in the woods might be the killer?” asked Frank.

“I don’t know.” Diane picked up the poncho and rolled-up rain hat on the table beside her.

“Jin, I want you to look this poncho over for any signs whatsoever of blood. The killer would have been drenched in it. It rained hard practically the whole time I was out, but the poncho has a drawstring and stitching.”

“Sure, boss,” said Jin.

She rose from the chair and went to a cabinet where she kept a supply of bags for storing evidence. Oddly enough, there were several times she had use for them here in the museum side. Sometimes it seemed as if the museum and the crime lab were slowly coalescing. She sat back down again and unwrapped the knife.

“I want you to examine this knife. Take it completely apart. I want to know if there’s any blood on it.” She dropped it in the bag. She put the hat in another one. “Look at the hat too. I may have cross-contaminated it, but at the time I didn’t have anything else to wrap the knife in.”

“And why didn’t you turn all this over to the sheriff or, rather, his representative?” asked Frank.

Frank’s face looked stern, but Diane knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t angry. Just concerned.

“In the absence of a warrant, I didn’t think it was right to hand over something that was loaned to me,” said Diane. “Sheriff Leland Conrad spends the least amount of money on criminal justice of any sheriff in Georgia. He runs for election on what he describes as his commonsense approach to crime. And he believes he is right. To him it will be common sense that it was a stranger in the woods in possession of a knife who said he was taking photographs during a thunderstorm who is the killer, rather than any resident of his county. If the man is guilty, that would be fine. If he’s not, the killer gets away and the stranger is stuck in prison.”

“You don’t think Sheriff Conrad will call in the GBI on this?” asked Frank. “This is pretty big.”

“Nothing’s too big for Leland,” commented David.

“His son, Deputy Travis Conrad, is going to try to talk him into it. He said the coroner will back him up,” said Diane. “Maybe they will persuade him. But between now and then, I’m going to process what we have.”

She and Frank stared at each other for a moment. She knew he disapproved. Frank could be a stickler for protocol. Izzy Wallace looked uneasy too.

“It’s not evidence until it’s evidence,” she said. “Right now, it’s just a knife and rain gear that some Good Samaritan loaned me to help me out of a tight spot.”

“You don’t think you’re sort of protecting the guy because he helped you, do you?” said Izzy. “That would be understandable,” he added.

Diane knew Frank was thinking the same thing. “No, I think I’m a former human rights investigator who has a very healthy, well-developed sense of justice and the presumption of innocence.”

David gave her a ghost of a smile. She knew he was with her on this one.

“Besides, Deputy Conrad could have asked me for the poncho if he thought its owner had anything to do with the crime. He didn’t,” she said. “Think of Star,” she added.

Star was Frank’s adopted daughter. She was unjustly accused of killing her parents, and many of her rights were trampled on in the process. She could have spent the rest of her life in prison, had it not been for Frank and Diane.

“In the meantime,” she said, “I told Deputy Conrad about the stranger and that he said he was camping in the national forest. I’m sure Travis will look for him.”

“Okay,” said Frank. “I was just interested in your line of reasoning.”

Diane took out her cell phone and handed it to David. “There are some pictures of the crime scene on here I’d like you to do the best you can with,” she said.

“Diane,” said Frank. “You can’t just take over the investigation.”

“I’m not. I’m preserving the scene as it was when I found it,” she said.

“You really don’t trust Leland Conrad, do you?” Frank said.

“Do you?” she shot back.

“No, I don’t. But he is the elected sheriff of Rendell County,” Frank said.

“I’ll share any information I discover,” Diane said.

“Leland will be really pissed,” said Izzy. “I don’t care for him either, but Frank’s right. Taking photographs of his crime scene. . I don’t know.”

“Leland Conrad is a Luddite who treats the people who elected him like he owns them and knows what’s best for them. Diane may not have followed protocol on this, but she is right, nevertheless.”

Both Frank and Izzy looked at David for a moment. She knew they were torn. They didn’t think Diane should have kept anything from the sheriff, but they also agreed with David.

“Still,” said Izzy, “this will come back on you.”

“Okay,” said Diane. She turned to David. “Delete the photographs.”

“Well, don’t do that,” said Izzy. “I mean, you already have them. And, well, it’s not like you’ll post them on the Internet.”

“If I can bring any empiricism to bear on the investigation, I will. The Barres did not deserve what happened to them. They were very nice people. Jonas. .” She stopped. A shock of horror went through her, giving her stomach