Slumbered to Death (16 page)

Ben must have noticed the vehemence in her tone because he changed the subject. “Who are we visiting first?”

“Roy Mueller. He has some indictments for petty crime.”

“Seriously?” Ben said. “He was a straight shooter in the army, a stickler for the rules. He wanted to be the team leader so bad he could taste it.”

“Maybe bitterness because he wasn’t left a bad taste in his mouth and turned him,” Sadie suggested. “Who knows why people do the things they do?”

“Who indeed?” Ben said. They rolled to a stop in front of the address. Sadie knew it was the right house because it was surrounded by patrol cars and yellow police tape.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mumbled.

“Not again,” Ben agreed.

“Maybe it has nothing to do with us,” she said. “Maybe he was picked up for something unrelated.” But when she stepped from the car and saw Detective Jenks, her hope sank. He caught an eyeful of her at the same time and his look turned thunderous.

“Cooper, why do you keep arriving on my crime scenes?”

“To be fair, I was first at the last one,” she said. “What happened?”

“None of your business. Go away.”

“What do you think are the chances that will work?” she said.

“You’re a pushy kid,” he said.

“Never turn your back on a cheerleader. So what happened?”

“Someone popped the guy who lived here.”

“He’s dead?”

“Do you take my clever slang to mean anything else?” Jenks said. “Now suppose you tell me why I’ve seen your pretty face at two murder scenes.”

Sadie looked at Ben. His expression was ambivalent. Either he was giving her permission to tell or he had no opinion. Either way, she thought it was time she informed law enforcement of the situation. “Can we go somewhere for a private chat?”

“Step into my office.” He motioned to a black and white truck emblazoned with a crime investigation logo.

“Atwood has a forensics truck?” Sadie said.

“Of course not. What do you think this is, Las Vegas? This is on loan. We borrow it whenever there’s a murder, which is twice since I met you. Start talking.”

“Mr. White came to me a few days ago because he’s had some insomnia, some nightmares.” She wouldn’t tell him about the blood until she knew more information. Ben was her client; no need to incriminate him before the facts were on the table. “We began to believe that his time in the army was somehow involved. Edmond Hankins was in the same unit. We wanted to talk to him and ask questions, but when we arrived, we found him dead.”

“And you’re here today because…”

“Roy Mueller was in the same unit.”

The detective stared at her a few beats. She could tell he was weighing her story, sifting it for truth and lies. “Three men from the same army unity who live in the same community. Two of them are dead.” His eyes fastened on Ben. “Look who’s still alive.”

“He’s not the only one,” Sadie said. Her protective instincts were driving her full steam ahead. She warned herself to take a step back and relax. “There’s someone else. He was on our list of people to visit today. We stopped here instead.”

“Who is it?” Jenks asked.

“If I tell you, you have to let us go with you to interview him,” Sadie said.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll arrest you for obstruction,” Jenks said.

“That wouldn’t benefit either of us, and the charge would never stick. Believe me--I used to date a guy who clerks for a Supreme Court judge. My way, we both win.”

“How do I win by letting you tag along when I visit this guy?” Jenks asked.

“Because then it will be over and you never have to see me again.”

“Your way is sounding better and better,” Jenks agreed. “Let’s go.” He stood and led them to an unmarked police car.

“We’ll meet you there,” Sadie said. “That way we can leave straight from his house without coming back here.”

“What if I want you to come back here?” Jenks said. “What if I have more questions and want you to spend a long time answering them?”

“Then too bad. You can’t hold us without our consent unless you arrest us, and you can’t arrest us because you have nothing to go on,” Sadie said.

“I hate civilians who know the law,” Jenks muttered.

Sadie smiled. She was starting to like Jenks. Maybe because he reminded her of Gideon without all the disappointment and years of baggage between them. She followed him to Vic Hutchens’ house. Unlike so many that she had seen lately, this house was nice. It was well-kept with a trim lawn and tasteful decorations.

“Looks like Vic’s done okay for himself,” Ben commented. “Good for him.”

“We should probably hold off on the adulation until we’re sure he’s not a psychotic murderer,” Sadie said.

“Either way it’s a nice house,” Ben said.

A woman in a robe met them at the door, her hand at her throat. “Is it Vic?”

“Do you have reason to believe we’re here about your husband, Ma’am?” Jenks asked.

“Yes, I called and reported him missing last night when he didn’t come home. They told me I would have to wait a few days to make sure he’s really gone. But he’s never gone missing like this before. Are you here to make a report?”

“May we come in?” Jenks asked.

The grip on her throat became tighter. Her eyes widened with fear. “Oh, what is it? Is he dead? Please just tell me.”

“He’s not dead,” Sadie said. Jenks shot her a look filled with a mix of rage and indignation. “I’m not a cop, and I don’t have to play the cop game. The poor woman thinks we’re here to do a death notice. Put her out of her misery.” She turned back to the woman. “We have no idea where your husband is. We would like to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” she said. She led them inside. “I should change.”

“You’re fine,” Sadie said. “We don’t mind at all. Do we, guys?”

Jenks rolled his eyes, but Ben hopped on board. “No, you’re fine. It’s early, so of course you’re not dressed yet. Who would be?”

The question was ridiculous because seventy five percent of people in the room were dressed, but she looked at Ben with something akin to mesmerization. There was a soothing, hypnotic tone to his voice. The realization made Sadie feel better about her own reaction to the man.

“Can we sit?” Jenks asked, breaking the spell that Ben had cast.

“Of course,” she said, snapping to attention with a flush. “Please, have a seat.”

They shared the settee across from her. Sadie could tell it took effort for Jenks to stifle his grumbling when she sandwiched herself between him and Ben. If one of them wanted to raise an arm, they would have to do it together, marionette style.

“When is the last time you saw your husband?” Jenks asked. He tried to reach in his pocket, presumably for his notebook, but Sadie’s arm felt like it was sewn to his. He gave up with a huff and crossed his hands instead.

“Yesterday morning before work.”

“How was his manner? Did he seem at all unusual to you?”

“He was running a little late, which wasn’t like him. Otherwise no.”

“Did he make it to work?”

“Yes. He worked a full day, but then never came home.” Tears flooded her eyes. She pressed her fingers to the sockets. “Sorry.”

“Take your time,” Jenks said in a gentle voice Sadie wouldn’t have believed possible. She quirked an eyebrow at him. He elbowed her, but they were so close together it might have been an accident. “Did you try his cell phone?”

“Yes. It rang and rang and went to voicemail every time.”

“Had you been having any marital difficulties lately?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Like most couples, we bicker. But nothing serious. I would say we’re happy. Vic can be a little distant at times, but otherwise…” she trailed off and pressed her hand to her eyes again. “Do you think he’s left me? Is that what this is about?”

“We’re simply trying to get more information about your husband. Can you tell me what he was wearing  yesterday?”

“I…I don’t remember. I know that seems horrible, but a lot of his clothes look the same. I could check his closet to see what’s missing.”

“Could you?” Jenks asked. Mrs. Hutchins left the room and Jenks turned to Sadie. “I’m not getting anything from her. This house looks like the Cleavers live here. You really expect me to believe the husband is a cold-blooded army commando killer?”

“Yes,” Sadie said.

“Give me one good reason,” Jenks commanded.

She worked her arm free and pointed to an item across the room. “Because that’s my music box.”

An APB was issued for Vic Hutchens, but that didn’t make Sadie feel any better. The man had killed two people, and he was out there somewhere—waiting, watching.

“We’ll find him,” Detective Jenks informed her. “Sooner or later, the bad guys always mess up.”

“I hope you find him before he breaks into Sadie’s home again,” Ben commented.

“Yeah, do you have someone you can stay with for a while until we catch him?” Jenks asked. Was it Sadie’s imagination, or was he legitimately concerned over her welfare?

“She can stay with me,” Ben said. “I have plenty of room, and I can protect her.”

“I couldn’t leave my roommates,” Sadie said.

“They can come,” Ben added, albeit with some reluctance.

“Ben, that’s sweet, but we’ll be fine.”

“I have to get back to the other scene,” Jenks said. Sadie felt sorry for him. She remembered all the times Gideon had worked himself sick on a case. Of course her dad might have enjoyed the time away from home. Was Jenks avoiding a wife? She didn’t know. He hadn’t been wearing a ring, but Gideon had never worn a ring, either.
Criminals take rings as a weakness and start picking on your family,
he had once explained. That hadn’t made sense to Sadie when she was a kid, but now it did. There were those who preyed on any vulnerability, always looking for cracks. Wearing one’s wedding ring was a definite crack in the armor, at least for a cop.

“You need some tea,” Ben said. He put his hand on the small of her back to usher her toward the car, which was odd since it was her vehicle. She half expected him to demand she hand over the keys, but he didn’t. He opened her door, waited until she was inside, and closed it again.

What Sadie actually wanted was to go home. Now that the identity of her stalker had been confirmed, she felt the need to circle the wagons, to make sure Abby, Luke, Gideon and even Hal were okay. If the crazy man targeted her, surely he would target her family and friends, too. She would have a cup of tea with Ben and go.

As she drove in silence, her mind drifted. She had been so intent on tracking down her intruder that she temporarily forgot about Ben and his problems. How did Vic connect to Ben? What had started off as a hunt for missing persons had ended with two murders, but how did that link to Ben and his nightmares? She was missing something. “Ben, what happened in the army? Why did Vic do these things? Why do you have nightmares and insomnia? There must be a reason. I feel like there’s more you’re not telling me.”

He sighed so deeply his shoulders slumped. “You’re too astute, Sadie. There is more, much more, but it’s hard for me to talk about. Can we have tea first? Tea soothes me.”

The corner of her mouth turned up in a smile. He was quirky. “Tea it is,” she agreed.

They arrived at his house a few minutes later. He stationed her at his kitchen table while he fussed with the tea. “Fussed” was an accurate description because it was quite a process when he made it. No bags for him. He precisely measured the leaves, pre-warmed the pot, set a timer to steep, and poured from such a great height that Sadie was sure it was for some sort of purpose.

“I’ve found that the extra time the water takes to reach the cup provides the perfect temperature for the tea leaves,” he explained when he caught her watching him. He arranged everything on a tray and served it to her in a delicate china cup along with real sugar cubes and a porcelain pitcher of cream. “Lemon?” he asked.

“I take mine black,” she said. “Thank you.”

“A real woman,” he said. “I take mine with cream and sugar, so that discounts me from being a real man.”

I think the whole tea prep routine lost that for you,
Sadie thought, but she didn’t say it. His devotion to tea was quaint and odd, but so was he, and she didn’t mind. Besides, the tea was the best she’d ever had. Maybe there was something to be said for doing things the old fashioned way. They sipped their tea in silence that was somewhere between cozy and awkward. Ben seemed relaxed and comfortable, and not like someone who was about to spill deep, dark army secrets. Sadie didn’t want to push him and dispel the quiet, but then the tea was finished and he still didn’t speak.

“Ben, it’s time to talk,” she prompted. She was tired, and she wanted to go home.

He took a breath and stared bleakly into his empty cup. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“Begin at the beginning.”

“Where is that? I don’t know.” He took another breath and looked up. “Do you promise to still be my friend when you hear the truth? No matter what, do you promise?”

When did we revert to third grade?
“I…okay.”

Her reassurance soothed him. He smiled. “Well, I joined the army when I was eighteen. It was a poor decision, the kind children are wont to make.”

He spoke so slowly Sadie felt like she was pulling the words from him with a rope and a winch. He paused as if waiting on her comment. She wanted to scream. “Go on,” she urged instead.

“I didn’t make friends easily.”

Shocker.
“Mm, hmm.”

“I never have. I was always that kid who stood on the outside looking in.”

“Kids can be cruel.”

“Not you, though. You were never cruel to kids like me, were you, Sadie?”

“I probably was a kid like you,” Sadie said. “I was my own sort of outcast. Except for Luke, I didn’t have any friends. I was too bossy, too spirited, too willing to do my own thing. Following the herd was never my specialty.”

“The herd. I like that description of humanity.”

“I was referring to kids in school, and not necessarily all of mankind. You were telling me about your early days in the army.”

“Yes, the army. Talk about your herd mentality.”

Please don’t.

“The army doesn’t like people who don’t mindlessly follow orders.”

Sort of a given when you join up.
“Mm, hmm.”

“I remember one time during basic training…”

Are we still on basic training? Help me, Ronda.
“Ben, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I get the feeling you are prevaricating. As difficult as it may be, I think we should skip to the part that’s most relevant to our current situation.”

“But it’s all relevant, Sadie. Don’t you see? My entire time in the army is important to the story.”

Sadie bit back a growl of frustration. Somewhere out there a psychotic killer was waiting for her. Who knew what he might do to her friends and family? She needed to go. She needed to check on them and make sure they were safe. “Can I interrupt for just a moment? I promised Luke I would update him, and I forgot. Let me send him a text so he won’t worry.”

“Go ahead,” Ben said.

His tone was filled with reluctance as if he were actually granting permission. She ignored him and pulled out her phone. “Mueller is dead. Hutchins is bad guy. At Ben’s house listening to his life story for more info. Hope you are safe. Be home soon.”
I miss you, I wish I were there, I’m hungry and tired.
She left all those things out for the sake of expediency, but she felt them. “Done.” She tucked her phone back in her pocket and tried not to let her reluctance show as she gave Ben her full attention.

“As I was saying about the army,” Ben started. “The basic tenants of the army are flawed, and here’s why.”

Her phone buzzed, alerting her to a text, and she interrupted again. “I’m sorry, but I think this is Luke. You can understand why I’m worried about him and Abby. Excuse me while I check this.” She pulled out her phone and read the message. “Abby and I are fine. Feels empty without you. Come home.”

She smiled.
Home.
The word finally had meaning. Abby’s house felt like a safe haven again, and it was her home. She suddenly missed it and her friends with a blinding sort of passion. She needed to go, now. She would come back tomorrow for the rest of Ben’s story. She looked up and her smile faded. Ben was looking at her with disapproval or anger or maybe a combination of both.

“Did you ever wonder if technology is the downfall of modern society?” his said.

“No. I find you get as much from it as you put in. For me, technology adds convenience, but I don’t allow it to consume me.”

That mollified him some. “You’re wise beyond your years, Sadie.”

“I don’t know about that, but…”
But
I
want
to
go
. “Ben, I think…”

This time her words were cut off by a sound from the living room. Ben’s attention turned sharply in that direction. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Do you have a cat?”

“No, I think I have an intruder.” He stood and pointed a finger in front of her face. “Stay here, Sadie, I mean it. I can handle this, and I don’t want you hurt.”

Sadie stayed, not because she wanted to obey him, but because she was stunned by the swift change in him. Suddenly she understood how a mild-mannered teetotaler had been an army ranger. His face had been filled with a murderous sort of intensity as he issued his directive and headed toward the living room. The seconds ticked as Sadie’s thoughts crystallized. Why was she sitting helplessly by?
Move, idiot!

She darted to the living room where sounds of a struggle were already in progress. On closer inspection, it wasn’t much of a struggle. Ben was beating him soundly. Sadie entered the scene as he landed a final knockout blow to the head. Victor Hutchens landed unconscious and bleeding on the floor.

Ben caught sight of Sadie and frowned his disapproval. “Watch him while I retrieve a ziptie from the other room.” He left. She stared at Vic Hutchens. He looked worse for wear, but he wasn’t dead. Even from a few feet away she could see the steady rise and fall of his chest. His breathing was loud and whistled slightly. The man might recover but his septum would henceforth be deviated. Sapped from energy as if she had been the one in the fight, she leaned against the nearest curio cabinet.

It was a large, wooden cabinet, intricately detailed and filled with all manner of Victorian knick-knacks. She recognized tea cups that matched the one she had used just a short while ago. And there were broaches, dozens of them. As she peered closer, she realized they were hair broaches, and she grimaced. What was the Victorian’s odd fascination with saving their loved one’s hair? Sadie found it gross. Some things were better out of fashion. Why did Ben collect these things? Odd. One of the broaches was empty. Where a braided lock of hair should have been, there were words, some type of inscription. She picked it up for a closer look. Had the hair fallen out? If so, she would not be the one to put it back in. She had no desire to touch dead people’s hair, even if it was no longer attached to their person. The inscription was familiar, she had read it a million times before, and yet she couldn’t make the words comprehend. They were out of context. There was some mistake. Maybe she had read it wrong.

She held the locket to the light and refocused. This time she would read the words out loud. “Sadie Cooper,” she read, and then Ben’s heavy step sounded behind her.