Aguilar glanced at Thomas in question. He shook his head. This wasn’t their killer. But Middleton was the last person seen with Tillery, and a witness verified he’d argued with the murder victim.
“I need you to come to the station and answer a few questions,” Thomas said.
“Am I under arrest?”
“Not at this time.”
“Then why the hell should I go with you?”
“It will be a lot easier for you, if you come with us. We need you to tell us about your argument.”
“Why are you so interested?”
“Because Garrick Tillery died after he left Hattie’s,” Aguilar said. “Someone stabbed him on Marcellus Street and left him to bleed out in the ditch.”
The color drained from Middleton’s face. His bluster and arrogance vanished, and he gripped the jamb to hold himself upright.
“Somebody murdered Garrick? Why would anyone…are you sure?”
The door opened. Middleton staggered on stiff legs onto the stoop and stared into the night as though the two deputies weren’t there.
“You might want to put on shoes,” Thomas said, prompting Middleton to stare down at his bare feet.
“Right.”
“And bring your work boots.”
During the ride back to the sheriff’s station, Middleton sat in the cruiser’s backseat, wearing a thousand-yard stare. The blood hadn’t returned to his face, and his eyes watched the neighborhoods shoot past like pictures in a movie. Aguilar kept glaring at Thomas. He couldn’t tell her in front of Middleton that the boots were the wrong size. The footprints following Tillery’s had been three or four shoe sizes smaller.
The deputies led Middleton into the interview room where Lambert waited. After Thomas briefed Lambert on Middleton, their radios flared to life. Gray’s voice, almost hysterical with grief, came over the radio.
“The caretaker at St. Mary’s cemetery just found Kay Ramsey dead beside her husband’s grave. Someone slashed her throat. I don’t think she’s been dead more than half an hour.”
“I gotta meet Gray at the cemetery,” Thomas said.
Lambert pulled Thomas aside.
“Aguilar and I will handle the interview. But Thomas, something is wrong with Gray. Get the sheriff under control and stop him from doing anything stupid.”
Thomas replied with a grim nod. As he climbed into the cruiser, he sensed the case unraveling. Kay Ramsey was the fourth body found, and Carl Middleton couldn’t be responsible.
CHAPTER FORTY
Sunday, July 19th
12:15 a.m.
“It’s easy,” Mark Benson said, aiming the gun at Raven’s temple as he mocked pulling the trigger. “One bullet to the head, and it’s over.”
Raven knelt in the grass outside the farmhouse with Damian and Mark standing over her. Her eyes pleaded with Damian, but the market analyst turned away.
“If it’s so easy, then why don’t you do it?”
“This is your mess. Clean it up.”
Mark slapped the pistol into Damian’s hand and made a sweeping gesture toward the woods. The moon hid behind the trees, making the forest appear as a black, craggy wall. Damian grasped Raven’s elbow and hauled her up. Mark had untied her ankles, but the ropes still held her wrists behind her back. She gave Damian an imploring look.
“You heard the man,” said Damian, hauling her toward the forest. “Start walking.”
“You won’t regret this,” Mark called behind them. “When you get back, we’ll make the ransom call. By this time tomorrow, we’ll be on a beach in the Caribbean.”
The footing became treacherous when they entered the woods. Raven couldn’t see two steps in front of her, and branches whipped at her face.
“Don’t do this,” she said.
He ignored Raven, dragging her through dead leaves until the forest engulfed the light spilling out of the farmhouse. Damian didn’t wear gloves, and Mark’s fingerprints were all over the pistol. Had they thought this through? These men weren’t killers. Well, at least Damian wasn’t, she prayed. There was still time to talk sense into him.
“What if he shoots you after you’re finished with me?” she asked. In the deepening gloom, Damian pressed his lips together. “He’ll make you do all the work. Then he’ll kill you and leave your body beside mine.”
“Shut up and walk.”
“I overheard your conversation about the stock trade. He’s desperate. Don’t think he won’t kill you and keep the ransom money for himself. Even if he doesn’t kill you, your prints will be on the weapon when the cops figure this out. They’ll arrest you for murder, and Mark will get away with the cash.”
If she’d gotten through to him, she couldn’t tell. He pulled her with renewed determination, his fingers digging into her biceps and shooting pain through her arm. He pulled up when the trees rustled. Something big hurried through the dark. She used the pause to regain her bearings. They were a hundred yards from the farmhouse. Listening, she discerned a creek trickling to her left. She’d seen the water glistening in the distance while Mark held her at gunpoint. If she escaped in the forest, the creek would lead her back to the farmhouse.
“Get moving,” he said.
Raven stumbled onward. The forest floor snagged her sneakers and tripped her every few steps. Somehow, Damian stayed upright and kept hold of her arm. She wondered if he possessed a preternatural ability that allowed his eyes to penetrate the darkness. But as he tugged her over a rise, she felt the bindings loosen around her wrists. She’d almost broken free. All she needed to do was distract Damian while she worked her arms out of the ropes.
“Hey, loosen up on the arm, will ya? There’s no reason to torture me before you pull the trigger.” He didn’t respond. “Ow. That really hurts.”
“Cry all you want. Nobody will hear you out here.”
Another animal burst through the brush. Raven used the distraction to wrestle her arm free as Damian stood with the gun aimed into the unknown, his foot tapping with indecision. Twisting her wrists together, working up a sweat in the humid night, Raven slipped one hand halfway out of the bindings.
“What was that?” he
