Bad News Page 11

  “What about injuries?” Malone asks. “Can you tell whether she had any injuries before she died?”

  “Nothing's apparent,” he says. “There's one other thing, though. Based on the state of the flesh, I have a suspicion that she died quite some time ago, and that she was dismembered and then frozen in these bags.”

  “Frozen?” I say, shocked by the suggestion.

  “And then left out here to thaw,” he explains. “I'll try to come up with a more specific timeline, but my hunch is that she was most likely killed shortly after she disappeared, and then she was frozen until the killer was ready to dispose of her.”

  “Why would anyone do it like that?” I ask. “Why dispose of her now?”

  “I'm afraid that's beyond my powers to explain,” he says. “The post mortem is going to take a little longer than usual, Aiden. I'll try to have something for you by the end of the day.”

  As he walks away, I turn to Malone and see that he seems completely frozen. I wait for him to say something, but from the look in his eyes it's as if he's gone completely inward, as if he's consumed by his thoughts. Frankly, right now his expression is a little scary.

  “What's the next step?” I ask.

  I wait, but he doesn't say anything.

  “Hey,” I continue, placing a hand on his arm, “what do you -”

  “I'll tell you the next step,” he says suddenly, turning to me angrily. “We're going to go and get the bastard who did this. And I think I know exactly where to find him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “You have no right to be here!” Thomas Roper says as several more officers enter his house. “I haven't done anything wrong!”

  “This is just a friendly visit,” Malone mutters, pushing past him on the steps that lead up to the porch. “If you haven't done anything wrong, you've got nothing to worry about. You want to help us find Kimmy Duchette's murderer, don't you?”

  He storms inside, leaving me standing at the bottom of the steps.

  “They found her?” Roper asks, turning to me. “Where?”

  “Out in the forest,” I tell him.

  “But where in the forest?” he asks.

  “Not too far from here,” I explain. “I don't know how much more I can say.”

  “And you're with them? Are you part of the police now?”

  Before I can answer, we both hear the sound of breaking glass inside the house.

  “What are they doing?” Roper snaps, turning and hurrying inside. “Stop! I haven't done anything! You can't just come in and destroy my home!”

  I begin to make my way up the steps, although my foot catches against the bottom step and I almost fall. Cursing my luck, I scramble all the way onto the porch, and then I get into the house just in time to see that Malone and his men are almost taking the place apart. Every drawer, every cupboard, has been pulled open, and one officer even looks to be searching for hidden panels in the walls. Sure, there wasn't much furniture in Roper's house to begin with, but that hasn't stopped Malone's men making a mess.

  “You're destroying the place,” I tell Malone as I head over to join him in the kitchen. “Do you have to trash the man's home?”

  “You're the one who was so convinced he's responsible,” he replies, not even turning to look at me. “If you'd had your way, we'd have been out here a year ago.”

  “And you're the one who told me to hold back,” I remind him. “You said there was no evidence. That hasn't changed, has it?”

  “He was implicated in the Esmee Waters disappearance.”

  “He really wasn't!” I say firmly. “When you look into it, there was nothing to directly link him to Esmee. That was just the papers getting people riled up!”

  “Well, maybe I'm taking a leaf out of their book!” he shouts, finally turning to me. “Maybe the softly-softly approach doesn't get results! Maybe people like me should be more like people like you!” He pauses, and it's clear that he's struggling to contain himself. “Maybe,” he adds finally, “for once, I'm going to do whatever it takes to uncover the truth. Why should reporters be the only ones who get to go for the jugular? I'm sorry, Maggie, but I'm going to do this your way for once.”

  ***

  “I heard they've been out there since dawn,” an old lady mutters a few hours later, in a booth at the bar. “They wouldn't be doing this if they didn't have a reason.”

  Sitting at the counter, I force myself to stay quiet. Those two ladies have been gossiping about the police operation ever since I got here, and at least half of everything they've said has been wrong. I just wish they'd find something else to talk about.

  “He lives out there all alone, doesn't he?” the other woman replies. “Now, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that, but it makes you wonder. He always seems like a nice enough man whenever I meet him, but you just don't know what's going on with people under the surface, do you?”

  “All I know,” the first woman says, “is that Mr. Malone has always been very nice. He wouldn't do anything without good reason. And he's taken all his men up to that farm, which tells you something. I've even heard rumors that they found something in the forest near Mr. Roper's house. I think it's all going to start coming out soon. I hope Mr. Roper comes clean, so that the families can have some kind of closure. He should at least tell them where to find the bodies.”

  “Excuse me?” I say finally, turning to them. “Thomas Roper hasn't been charged with anything.”

  “Oh, we know that,” one of the ladies replies. “But he's at the station, isn't he? I saw it online, he was taken there hours ago.” She taps at her phone and, for a moment, squints at the screen. “There's no mention of him having been let out yet. They must be really questioning him hard.”

  “There's nothing to connect Thomas Roper to the murder of Kimmy Duchette,” I point out. “Try to keep that in mind.”

  “Is it definitely a murder, then?” the second woman asks, her eyes widening with shock. “Are the rumors true?”

  “Never mind.”

  I turn away, just as Teresa comes over and refills my coffee.

  “Everyone's talking about it,” she says, lowering her voice as the two old ladies continue to natter in the booth. “About Thomas Roper, I mean. They're saying the police couldn't hold him like this, not unless they had evidence.”

  “It's probably best to not jump to conclusions,” I tell her.

  “It's just so sad about Kimmy,” she continues. “I mean, everyone knew she had to be dead, but I suppose there was always some hope, wasn't there? Until today.” She leans closer. “I heard she was found hanging naked from a tree, with scratches all over her body, and her eyes had been gouged out along with her tongue. And someone had put her eyes and tongue on the ground nearby and -”

  “None of that is true,” I tell her.

  “Are you sure?”

  “She was found in a -”

  I stop myself just in time, and then I realize that the old ladies have fallen silent. I turn and see that they're staring at me, as if they're desperate for more news.

  “I'm sure there'll be a press release soon,” I say, before turning back to my coffee. “It's probably best to wait until then. No-one benefits from all this talk. And Thomas Roper remains an innocent man, until and unless he gets convicted of anything.”

  “Oh, of course,” one of the ladies says. “We all know that.”

  “I just hope he admits where he hid all the bodies,” her friend adds. “For closure, you know? For the families.”

  Realizing that this is a hopeless conversation, I take one final swig of my coffee and then I head outside. I feel as if this whole town has begun to over-heat, and Thomas Roper seems to have been tried and convicted in the court of public opinion. Stopping outside the bar, I take a moment to get my head straight, and then I glance along the street and see the police station in the distance.

  Right now, Roper is in there, and I doubt Malone is holding back.

  Hearing the door open be
hind me, I turn to see that Teresa has come out of the bar. She stops for a moment to light a cigarette, and then she takes a drag before glancing at me. She pauses for a few seconds, as if she's lost in thought, and then she slowly lowers her cigarette and offers a faint, curious smile.

  “I have a knife,” she says finally, “in the back of my underwear.”

  “Come again?” I reply.

  “For self-defense,” she continues. “I put it there when Kimmy went missing, in case anyone ever tried to abduct me. You know, the funny thing is, I guess I can take it out now, but I think maybe I won't. I think maybe I'll keep it in there, even though I have to be careful how I walk and I basically can't sit down. 'Cause even if Thomas Roper is the killer, there might be other killers around. So I might still need to defend myself one day.”

  “You know you can buy, like, stun guns and stuff like that, right?” I ask.

  “Oh, sure,” she says, “but I actually kinda like the knife thing. Is that weird?”

  I stare at her for a moment.

  “Yes,” I say finally. “It's really weird.”

  She pauses, and then she smiles again.

  Shaking my head, I turn and walk away. There's something seriously wrong with that girl, but I don't have time to figure out what. I guess the madness in Ridge Falls has changed everyone in some way, and to varying degrees. Those changes will linger long after the killer has been brought to justice, and I can't help thinking that – whether or not Thomas Roper turns out to be the culprit – Ridge Falls will be forever touched by the death of Kimmy Duchette.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Several hours later, as I pour myself yet another coffee in a corridor at the station, I hear a door opening nearby and I turn just in time to see Deputy Laird emerging from one of the interview rooms.

  “Is he finally done?” I ask.

  “I don't think he's gonna be done for a while,” he says cautiously. “It's not going... optimally.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The guy won't break,” he explains as he comes over to join me. “He just keeps on insisting that he's innocent.”

  “Maybe he is.”

  “The boss doesn't think so. And he reckons he's willing to hold Roper for as long as it takes.”

  “I don't think he's thinking clearly,” I tell him. “He's letting anger dictate his choices, and that's never good. Maybe Roper is hiding something, and maybe he's not. But either way, this isn't the right approach.”

  “Malone's getting desperate,” he replies. “I've never seen him like this, he's getting...” He checks over his shoulder, to make sure that no-one can hear us, and then he turns to me again. “He was banging his fist on the desk earlier. Literally banging. I've seen him angry before, but never like this. Never like he's completely losing his cool. I think it's the whole thing about finding the Duchette girl's body. It's sent him off the deep-end.”

  “He probably thinks people are going to blame him,” I suggest.

  “And you think they won't?”

  “That wouldn't be fair.”

  “So? When news of the discovery gets out, people are going to want someone to blame, especially when they hear all the details about the bags. And they're going to wonder why Aiden didn't catch Roper sooner.”

  “He's not -”

  Before I can finish, there's a sudden loud bumping noise in the distance, quickly followed by raised voices. I glance at Laird, and then at the same moment we both turn and hurry toward the door at the far end of the corridor. Just before we get there, the door swings open and Malone comes stumbling out with two deputies holding his wrists.

  “What happened in there?” I ask.

  “That smug son-of-a-bitch had it coming!” Malone snaps breathlessly, turning to me. “I swear, I'm going to break him before the end of the day. I'll have his signature on a confession, or I'll have his name on a tombstone!”

  “Did you hit him?” I ask. “Seriously?”

  He pulls away from the deputies and storms away, heading toward his office. I hesitate for a moment, utterly shocked by what's happening, and then I hurry after him. I feel as if this whole situation is rushing out of control, and I'm starting to worry that Malone might actually be losing his mind. By the time I reach his office, I find that he's pacing about and muttering to himself, and a moment later he turns and pushes all the files and papers off his desk.

  “Well, that's helpful,” I point out, stopping in the doorway. “Way to go. Do you have any other useful contributions to make?”

  “Don't piss me off right now!” he says firmly.

  “Or what? Are you gonna punch me too?”

  He turns to me, with a face like thunder.

  Not really sure what to say, I pause before stepping into the room and crouching down, and then I start carefully gathering all the files and pieces of paper back together. We had a system worked out, and now everything's all mixed up, and I think it's safe to say that this part of our work is over. As Malone heads to the window and looks out, I set some of the papers back on his desk, and then I grab some more.

  “How badly did you hurt Roper?” I ask finally.

  “I barely touched him.”

  “How barely is barely?”

  “Less than he deserves.” He pauses for a moment. “You should have seen the way he was sitting there, Maggie. It was as if he had total confidence that we couldn't touch him. That man killed Kimmy Duchette, and most likely he killed Esmee Waters too, and he thinks he's going to get away with it.” He pauses again. “And the worst part is, he might be right. When Esmee disappeared, a bunch of us got involved in the search. He killed her and now he's going to walk away.”

  “You don't know that,” I point out, as I put some more papers onto the desk.

  “What am I supposed to say to Esmee's parents?” he continues. “Once word gets out about Kimmy, Mark and Amanda Waters are going to want to know whether we're closer to finding their daughter. Am I supposed to just tell them that there's been no change?”

  “Tell them the truth,” I reply. “Tell them that you're working on it.”

  “Maybe someone else should work on it,” he suggests. “Maybe I'm not cut out for this.”

  I'm about to tell him that he needs to stay strong, when I find a broken photo frame among the papers. Picking it out, I see that the photo shows a smiling woman and a young boy.

  “Is this your family?” I ask.

  He turns and looks.

  “That's my wife and son,” he explains, and now he sounds exhausted. “Back when Esmee went missing, I devoted every second of my time to finding her. I was working over in the next town at the time. We never found a trace of her, but in the process I made my wife feel as if she didn't matter. Then when...”

  He pauses, and then he turns away.

  “Never mind. It doesn't matter. It's all over now, I'm just waiting for her to send me the papers. She deserves better.”

  I set the frame back on the desk, and then I pick up the last of the folders.

  “I'm going to have to release Roper soon,” he explains. “Obviously he'll be free to make a complaint about me, and I could well lose my job. The men at the farm didn't find anything, and soon that asshole's going to get lawyers involved. I'm surprised he hasn't already.”

  “When I first met you,” I reply, “I was the one pressing for Roper to be investigated, and you were the one resisting. Funny how we've kinda swapped roles, huh?”

  He turns to me.

  “I've screwed this whole thing up,” he says. “Again.”

  “I think you need to go back to Roper and apologize,” I tell him, “and then let him go. I think he's a reasonable man, and there's a chance he might let this go. Unless you broke his nose.”

  “I didn't break his nose.”

  “Release him,” I continue. “At least for now. If he's guilty, you'll get another chance. And if he's not, you can look for other clues. There's a body in the morgue, and maybe that'll throw something u
p. I don't know about you, but I refuse to believe that anyone can kidnap two girls and not leave some kind of a trace. We will find something eventually. I absolutely believe that.”

  “And what's in it for you?” he asks. “A book deal?”

  “I'm just trying to prove that I can do the right thing,” I tell him, feeling a little uncomfortable for a moment. “I'm trying to help.”

  He stares at me, almost as if he doesn't believe me, and then he sighs and makes his way past me.

  “I'm going to sort out this mess with Roper,” he mutters, “and then I'm going to try to get ahead of the news by visiting the Waters family. Someone needs to fill them in, before the media comes up with all sorts of nonsense.”

  “Mind if I tag along?” I ask.

  He turns to me.

  “At the very least,” I continue, “I can keep you entertained with some witty banter in the car. Wait right here, I just need to grab something.”

  I hurry over to grab my jacket. And as I do so, I double-check that I have my digital voice recorder. If I'm going to get a face-to-face with the grieving Waters family, I need to get it all on tape.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “There he goes,” Malone says a short while later, as he drives us away from the station, and as Thomas Roper emerges from the front of the building. “He's a free man again.”

  We drive past, and for a moment Roper looks right at me. In that moment, I feel as if he hates me. I also can't help but notice that he seems to be developing something of a black eye, which I guess is the result of the incident during his interview.

  “I got some preliminary findings from Walter Crease,” Malone continues, tossing his phone over to me. “Some of the body parts had tiny traces of fabric stuck to them, most likely from the freezing process. He's not sure exactly what they are, but they're the first actual lead we've been given.”