Piper, before she kissed Sonya, did not think of what Sonya’s reaction would be. When she pulled away, waiting for Sonya to say or do something, she realized she may have made a mistake.
She pulled her own hair away from her eyes, then looked down. “I’m sorry. You’re not mad at me, are you?”
Sonya shook her head and reached over, her hand on Piper’s shoulder. “Don’t be sorry. I’ve never been kissed before...”
“Would you rather have a boy kiss you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Sonya started to laugh softly; Piper stared at her for a moment, then let out a nervous giggle. “I let Everett Lock kiss me at a party last year. He tried to put his tongue in my mouth. He tasted like cigarettes and Mountain Dew.”
“I probably taste like Dr. Pepper.”
“I like Dr. Pepper, but I never liked Ev. Don’t like his brother, either. They think they’re the kings of the school, but they’re nothing extraordinary.”
Sonya‘s smile faded. “You don’t have to be extraordinary to control people.”
“The Ravisher isn’t special.”
“But Justine seems to think he is, and that tells me the police have the wrong man.”
*****
Garcia was given a warrant to search Trey Winstead’s house by nine o’clock that night.
The small rental home was located in the city limits of Marine, ten minutes from downtown, a simple blue house.
Captain Schultz accompanied Garcia, their gloved hands searching the two bedrooms and one bathroom, a mounted deer head, the eight-point buck, hanging from the living room wall. The men found nothing unusual except for a small bag of marijuana. Trey did not own a PC, only a lap-top which was found in his bedroom. Schultz searched through the lap-top’s files while Garcia went to the basement.
Garcia smelled the mildew and noticed a few cobwebs. He turned on an overhead light, then walked past the washer and dryer to another small room, the door shut. Upon entering, he noticed boxes stacked from floor to ceiling. The basement windows were painted black. A few hunting rifles, in their zipped-up cases, leaned against the wall.
Garcia’s gaze travelled over the boxes, not looking forward to searching each one.
He had spent almost sixteen hours trying to squeeze a confession out of Trey Winstead, although he had not been arrested, or even asked why he was being questioned. He remained silent until Robin Jones, hired by his father, appeared. Winstead was released and returned to work at Metal Concepts.
Garcia knew exactly what he was looking for as he had picked through Winstead’s dresser drawers, in the closets of both rooms, searching for loose floor boards and bricks.
He would keep his souvenirs within reach, Garcia thought. Jess’s ring, Kristen’s watch...
He almost jumped at the sound of Schultz‘s voice behind him. “This guy is boring.”
Garcia pointed to the boxes. “Do you think the ring and watch are in these boxes?”
“No. Somewhere more special. Maybe a jewelry box or a shoebox, kept in an unlikely place.”
“Toilet tank? Dishwasher?”
“Let’s check out the kitchen first. We can always send someone else to search these boxes.”
Garcia followed his superior upstairs to the kitchen. Schultz opened the freezer at the top of the small refrigerator.
“Reminds me of a break-in in Marine Heights,” he said. “Some crackheads stole every thing they could from this old lady’s house. She was retired teacher, had a bookshelf full of the classics; Shakespeare, Tolstoy, and a big Bible she would keep her cash and extra credit cards in. Crackheads aren’t big readers, because her money and credit cards were still in the Bible.”
He pulled away the ice trays and a half-gallon of rocky road until he found the small, square-shaped, red box. He opened it, and a silver ring inlaid with an emerald rolled out onto the floor. Schultz carefully pulled out Kristen’s watch as Garcia studied the ring between his fingers.
“You go out to Metal Concepts,” Schultz said. “I want him in custody now.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
After Sonya left, Piper counted the money left in her Chanel bag. Almost one hundred dollars, more than enough for a cab to Haven Rest.
The ride took only twenty minutes. The cab was allowed entrance through the gate. Piper paid the fare and walked up the steps of the sprawling brick building. The front door was locked.
She was hoping for no resistance, although Garcia could have told administration to keep Justine’s friends away.
Piper watched a security guard come to the door. He used the speaker on his side. “Hello?”
“I’m here to visit a patient.”
“The patient’s name?”
“Justine Kent.”
“I have to check. I’ll be right back.”
Piper knew visiting hours had not ended for the night. She and Bobby did not encounter a security guard during their last visit, and Piper had the feeling that something was going on.
The sun was setting, and Piper looked out at the front grounds, the leaves already mulched. She never heard of any kids trying to trespass into Haven Rest, the place spoken of with ridicule by most of the locals; Seymour’s ghost roamed the halls and patients had been raped or given brutal electroshock treatments, the stories becoming urban legends.
The security guard returned to the speaker. “All right. But only for a few minutes.”
The door unlocked with a buzzing sound and Piper stepped in. She turned to her right, and Nurse Lauren was almost limping on her tired feet down the hallway.
“Come with me,” she said.
Piper caught up with her, following to the gray elevator.
Lauren pressed the button to the second floor. “She’s been sleeping on and off for the last few days. She got into a fight.”
Piper nodded, but stayed silent. Lauren took her to the visiting room, where she waited.
If Justine’s medicated most of the time, what would make her want to fight? Piper thought. What would be in it for her?
Justine arrived minutes later. She sat down in the opposite chair, Lauren standing behind her, the glass separating both girls.
Piper did not miss Justine’s black eye and split lip. Band-Aids were wrapped around a few fingers. She was wearing a red sweatsuit and paper slippers on her feet. Her dark hair was pulled away from her face in a ponytail.
“I look like shit, don’t I?” she asked.
She smiled, and Piper was reminded of the old Justine, her first real kiss. “What was the fight about?”
“Some asshole orderly made a remark about my weight. I was on my period, in a bad mood, so I jumped him. He doesn’t look good, either.”
Piper looked past Justine to Lauren, whose expression remained neutral. If she wanted the answers she was looking for, she would have to be direct, not caring if Lauren knew everything. “Justine, you’re clever, but not a genius. I know when you’re hiding something...”
Justine rested her hands on the table. “Hiding what?”
“Who is he?”
Justine turned her wrists palms up, and raised her eyebrows.
Piper stayed patient. “The Ravisher. Your chameleon...”
“Why do you care? He would never touch you, Princess.”
“A man has been taken in by the police. His name is Trey Winstead, but he’s not the Ravisher—”
“The police will think differently. The Ravisher has abandoned his quest for now, but his greatest kill will be a blood-bath...”
Lauren was staring down at Justine with a frown, as if this subject was new to her.
“How has he been contacting you?” Piper asked.
She had broken a silent rule, and Justine’s gaze became stony. “He speaks in my mind...”
Piper suppressed a smile. Justine had to keep up the pretense of being deluded; otherwise, her cover of teenaged schizophrenic would be blown. But Pi
per no longer cared about Justine’s needs or wants. “Did Detective Garcia ask you about your father? When your mom was raped?”
“He’s a cop. They always bring up the past.”
“The Ravisher knew, didn’t he?”
A flicker of sadness spread over Justine’s face, the deep stare softening. “He told me. I wasn’t surprised.”
“Why did you do all of this?” Piper asked. “Was it to get back at your dad? I know you hate him, but why?”
Justine flipped her hands back down on the table, the fingers closing into fists. “I tried telling Garcia, but it’s not something I like to talk about...”
“You don’t know Trey Winstead, do you?”
“No. But the Ravisher does.”
“Trey knows the Ravisher?”
“Yes. But Garcia and those other cow-brained cops won’t figure it out.” Justine sat back, putting her hands behind her head.
“Were your computer privileges taken away?” Piper asked.
“Yes. For awhile.”
“Does Ariel know?”
“Ariel who?”
“I don’t know her last name. She calls herself RomeoBoy on FriendsRing.”
Justine’s face split into a grin. She sat forward. “Where art thou, Romeo? Or is it Roe-may-o?”
“Ariel Romeo?”
“More like Brandon Romeo. Did you look under the skirt?”
Piper’s mouth almost fell open. “Is Ariel the Ravisher?”
Justine shook her head. “No. But you’re getting closer.”
“Why should other girls get hurt, Justine? Tell me...”
“I’m surprised Brandon was able to keep it to himself for so long. We were all friends in here. The Ravisher is so clever, he knows how to hide, to cover himself. He leaves everything clean.”
“You admired him?” Piper asked.
“Are you jealous?”
“No.”
“He is a man to admire. He’s brave enough to speak the truth. He told me who my father hired to rape my mother. He washed me clean. The Ravisher’s quest is to purify the world in the blood of the virgin but to know her flesh at the same time...”
Piper rolled her eyes. “You must get so sick of this...”
Justine sighed and turned around. “What’s for dinner, Lauren?”
The nurse pulled the keys from her belt. “Lasagne.”
“My favorite.”
*****
“Cal called me while you were gone,” Aron said.
He and Sonya were in the truck, coming from Piper’s house.
“What did he say?” Sonya asked.
Aron explained about Cal receiving Emily’s earlobe in the mail and the Marine Press announcing the date on the Ravisher’s note, October tenth.
“How does Cal and Garcia know for sure that the Ravisher is planning to attack a girl on October tenth?” she asked.
“What else could it be?”
“He could be bluffing just to get attention.”
“The police don’t want to take any chances. The tenth is a Friday, and I will be taking you to school and picking you up.”
Sonya remained silent as she thought about Trey Winstead. The date did not have to be printed if the police thought they had the Ravisher, although Trey was not questioned before Cal received Emily’s earlobe in the mail Saturday.
Does Garcia still have doubts? she thought. If he does, then all he can do is wait until Trey Winstead is ruled out.
Sonya and Aron noticed the old Chevy in the driveway before Aron turned in. He parked next to the car. When they shut the truck doors, Helga started barking from inside of the house.
Sonya followed her father inside. They found Ben Garcia sitting at Aron’s chair, Bill in his recliner. Helga had assumed her place next to Bill, her head turned to one side, brown eyes on Garcia.
Bill introduced Garcia to Aron and Sonya. Garcia shook Aron’s hand.
“I came by to take a look at Bill’s knife,” he said. “Cal gave me the serial number days ago, I just didn’t have time to come by.”
Aron retrieved the knife in its case from the endtable. “The receipt states that Bill sold it to Mike Winstead last spring.”
“Where’s the receipt, Bill?” Garcia asked.
“In the box.”
Garcia flipped open the wide case, his eyes roving over the handle and clipped-point blade, the small piece of paper taped to the top. Garcia carefully pulled out the receipt, reading the neat script.
“Mike Winstead was here yesterday,” Aron said. “He said he loaned Trey that knife. Bill only owned one like it, and we have no idea how or why it came back here.”
“Do you mind if I take it?” Garcia asked.
“No. Please.”
Garcia put the receipt back in, closing the case. “Trey Winstead confessed. We found evidence in his home. Mike told me about this knife, and he thought Bill would still have it around. Trey is being cooperative, but I have my doubts...”
“What proof did you find?” Sonya asked.
Aron turned around. “He can’t tell you that—”
“It’s all right, Mr. Neslund,” Garcia said. “Captain Schultz, my superior, and I found Jessica Holden’s ring and Kristen Beck’s watch in the freezer at Trey Winstead’s house.”
“That’s it?” Sonya asked.
Garcia shrugged, not put off by her tone. “It was enough to get him to sign a confession. His lawyer advised him against it, but he insisted. I’ll take the knife to the crime lab but, even if Jess’s or Kristen’s DNA is found from a trace blood sample, it might not be enough to convict Trey. A confession isn’t always enough, especially when Robin Jones is your lawyer.”
“It wasn’t Trey that found me in the woods,” Bill said. “Mike was right, he wasn’t with us that day.”
Aron shared a look with Garcia, who grinned at Bill. “I’m sorry to bother you, Bill. Thanks for your time.”
Bill nodded. “Okay.”
“If you think of anything else, call me.”
Aron followed Garcia through the kitchen and to the mud-room, close to the door. Aron kept his voice low. “Bill gets mixed up. The Alzheimer’s...”
Garcia nodded. “Cal told me. But Bill seemed to know who I was when I arrived. I had been meaning to stop by sooner, but with arresting Trey, then Ernie Shafer’s murder, I’ve been distracted.”
“Sonya told me that she came home from school a few weeks ago and found the doors unlocked and the light on in Bill’s closet,” Aron said. “Bill and I had taken Helga to the vet’s office. It’s possible that we both forgot to lock up before leaving. It would seem like a perfect opportunity for someone to break in, but nothing was missing, and Sonya forgot about it until recently.”
Sonya, who was standing by the refrigerator, placed the bottle of milk on the counter, to seem as if she was going to get a glass. Instead, she tried to listen in as she turned the cap on the jug.
“How would Trey have known that your dog had a vet’s appointment on that particular day?” Garcia asked. “Did you tell anyone else?”
“No. Only Bill and I knew. I left Sonya a note at the counter to find when she came home from school.”
“It’s possible that whoever came into the house wanted to leave something, not steal.”
“Could Winstead have been watching us? Waiting for a time to break in?”
“Maybe, but it would seem inconvenient for Winstead. He lives and works on the other side of town.”
“Cal spoke to me about October tenth.”
“The curfew will still be enforced. Cal agreed not to announce Trey Winstead’s arrest until I tell him to.”
“But you found proof in his house.”
“If this knife could have been returned to your home unnoticed, then that ring and watch could also have been planted. Robin Jones could use that information in Trey’s defense. I’m sure she is preparing for one of the biggest trials of her
career.”
“I’m sure Cal is excited, too.”
“He’s going to be very busy.”
Aron and Garcia spoke for a few more minutes, with Garcia leaving his card before he walked out of the house.
Aron came back into the kitchen, but Sonya was gone, the milk back in the refrigerator. He turned the corner, Bill in his chair.
“You didn’t ask him about Ernie, did you?” Bill asked.
Aron realized what Bill meant. They had been at Ernie’s farm the day before his murder. “No. I don’t think it matters.”
“While Trey’s locked up, the real nut-job is out there, getting ready to hurt another girl.”
“If Trey didn’t find you in the woods, who did?”
“He was wearing that green makeup. I knew him. Still do. How can you forget that curly hair? Hazel eyes, like his dad.”
“You know his dad?”
Bill was resting his chin in his hand, staring at the TV screen. “Well, not anymore. He’s dead. But Kyle is starting to look a lot like Wayne.”
Aron sighed. “Kyle Stone found you in the woods?”
“Yeah. Nice kid.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sonya, in her room, spread all of the copied articles in front of her on the pink rug.
She was convinced that someone was watching the house on the day Bill and Aron took Helga to the vet.
But if Trey lives on the other side of town, she thought, why would he bother to come here to leave the knife?
The lack of convenience nagged at Sonya. The Ravisher would have to be closer than she thought, and the idea of him being in Bill’s house frightened her.
She pulled out her list and studied the names and places she put down. Garcia had covered most of these, except for one:
The chameleon-male or female?
Sonya put a check next to the others, realizing that the only full name she added was Rick Chambers. Rick had spent a single week at Haven Rest, hardly enough time to get acquainted with Justine.
Sonya picked up Cal’s articles about Philip Kent’s trial. Sonya read through each one, stopping at a passage she had overlooked before, thinking that the time Jimmy was found was not important:
“...Hepler was unconscious when he was discovered behind the Marine Heights Blue Diamond club-house. The 9-1-1 dispatcher took the call at 2:17 a.m., the caller’s voice sounded like that of a young boy...”
Why would a kid be hanging out at the club-house so late? Sonya thought.
She read through the other trial articles, but the boy was never mentioned again. If he had been found, he would possibly have been used as a witness at trial, but maybe he had fled after calling the dispatcher.