The Demon Trappers: Foretold (16 page)

‘OK. I’ll be there.’

Riley blew through the remaining rooms in Sadie’s house like a robot on warp speed, mostly because the work was mindless and the cleaning products smelt a lot better than
stale cigarette smoke. As she scrubbed and dusted, she tried to look at Beck’s disappearance from all angles. Cole was at the top of her list of suspects, but that was because she
couldn’t stand him. Still, it wasn’t like the guy would make off with Beck just to get a chance to hook up with her. That meant this had something to do with the missing boys.

I hope Donovan can figure this out or Beck’s screwed.

By the time Riley had finished nearly all the cleaning, she’d reached the one task she’d been putting off. Digging in someone else’s closet made her feel like a voyeur,
especially when that person was dead. It was no surprise to find that Sadie’s clothes weren’t fancy, mostly jeans, shirts, a few tank tops and a jacket or two. Nothing you’d want
to be buried in.

Riley kept moving clothes around until she found something promising. The dress was navy and had a slight sheen to it, probably knee length on its owner. If Sadie had done something with her
hair and make-up, maybe added a few dozen pounds, she would have looked good in it. At least before she’d taken ill.

Riley laid it on the bed, wondering what had led Beck’s mom to buy the dress in the first place. Was it for someone special? She dug around a little longer and discovered a pair of high
heels. A check of Sadie’s jewellery box didn’t turn up much: the woman wasn’t into bling. Feeling it was best to go simple, Riley picked out a cross and a plain pair of earrings.
She packed everything up in a grocery bag and set off for the funeral home.

McGovern solemnly accepted the bag of clothes. ‘Thanks. I was wondering who was going to handle this now that Beck’s gone.’

‘He’s not gone – he’s just . . . missing,’ Riley replied.

‘Hope he hasn’t done something stupid,’ the man continued.

‘Like what?’

The undertaker hesitated. ‘He said life wasn’t worth a damn now that his mother was dead. Said he wasn’t sure how he could go on.’

‘What? When was this? At the hospital?’ That certainly hadn’t been a topic of conversation at the motel.

McGovern hesitated. ‘Last night. I called him and he came by to sign some papers. He said he was going to buy some beer and get hammered.’

‘What time was this?’

‘Ah, about nine fifteen or so.’

No way.
Beck was too careful about driving drunk, worried he’d lose his truck.

‘Did you tell the cops about this?’ she demanded.

‘Didn’t seem that important,’ McGovern said, shrugging. ‘Denny was always out of control.’

A low growl formed in her throat. He was lucky he was the only mortician in Sadlersville.

‘Anything else you need?’ she asked.

‘Not right now. You headed home soon?’

‘No, I’m not going anywhere until I find Beck.’

When she reached the front door, she looked back.

McGovern’s eyes were narrowed and he was watching her too closely.

He’s lying about something.

Sam was in the parking lot, right on time. Riley had barely reached the car, about to offload about McGovern’s stupidity, when a cop car pulled up next to her. It was the
deputy who’d come to the motel, the one named Martin. His side window rolled down.

‘Need you to come with me,’ he said.

‘Did you find him?’ Riley asked.

‘We found his truck,’ was the terse reply.

‘But what about Beck?’

‘Just get in the car.’

Riley’s chest tightened. Had they found Beck’s body and Donovan wanted to tell her the news in person? ‘Give me a sec.’

She turned her back on the deputy and leaned over to talk to Sam. ‘Can I trust him?’ Riley whispered.

‘Yeah, he’s on the level. He just lacks social skills.’

That Riley could handle. ‘Thanks. I’ll let you know what’s going down.’

‘Hopefully it’s good news,’ Sam said, but she didn’t sound convinced.

Riley hopped into the cruiser and buckled the seat belt. ‘Where are we headed?’

‘South of town.’

As they made the drive, the deputy asked questions while Riley responded with noncommittal answers. She’d learned that skill from her time with the Vatican’s Demon Hunters. As she
saw it, if the cop wasn’t willing to tell her anything, that could go both ways. Finally he gave up.

That works.

Their destination was the eastern edge of the swamp, somewhere near where Beck had taken her for their pizza picnic. The location looked like an impromptu parking lot with two
other cop cars, some sort of state vehicle and an ambulance.

Oh, God.

‘What is all this?’ she asked, her fear growing.

Martin gave her a dispassionate look. ‘We found a suicide note and –’

Riley was out of the car before it came to stop, her feet pounding towards the ambulance, kicking up sand as she ran.

No. Beck wouldn’t do this to me.

Donovan stepped into her path, causing her to skid to a stop. ‘Hold on!’ he called out.

‘Where’s Beck?’ She searched for the familiar face, the one she longed to see, but he wasn’t visible. Then she spied a man on the stretcher being carried over the sand by
two EMTs.

‘Beck?’ she cried, and took a few steps forward.

Donovan caught her arm. ‘It’s not him,’ he said.

Then why am I here?
As the stretcher rose to enter the back of the ambulance, Riley caught sight of a head crowned in dark hair and a face covered in blood.

It was Cole Hadley.

A short time later, the ambulance was rolling across the sand towards the main road, lights and siren engaged.

‘What happened?’ she demanded.

‘Hadley’s been shot,’ Donovan explained. ‘Don’t know if he’s going to make it or not.’

‘Who shot him?’

Martin had joined them at this point. ‘Beck, who else?’

‘We don’t know that yet,’ Donovan retorted.

‘Works for me. He gets Hadley out here – probably told him he wanted to buy some drugs from him – then he shoots him and takes his wheels. Not that I’m upset he did it or
anything.’

Could Beck have shot Cole? He certainly hated him enough.

Riley shook her head at the thought. ‘Shooting him puts Beck in jail and then he can’t bury his mom or go back to Atlanta.’
To his rabbit and his job and all the stuff that
matters to him.

She felt the shakes coming on so she took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself. ‘What’s really going on here? He –’ she angled her head towards the deputy –
‘said you’d found a suicide note.’

With a glower at his subordinate, Donovan waved her forward towards the back of the pickup. The roof box was open and the tailgate down. ‘Tell me if anything’s missing or seems out
of place. Newman’s still dusting for prints so don’t touch anything.’

Riley stepped closer and peered into the bed of the Ford. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected but there was nothing out of the ordinary. Fortunately there was no blood.

‘It looks like it did last night,’ she said.

‘What about in the cab?’

She moved round to the passenger door, which was open like the driver’s side. As she peered in, Newman sprinkled black powder on the steering wheel. Beck’s keys sat in the ignition
and the glove compartment door was hanging open.

‘There should be a steel pipe and two blankets behind the seat. Well, maybe not the pipe. He gave one to me about a week ago and he might not have replaced it yet. They’re
expensive.’

‘What about inside the glove compartment?’ Donovan asked.

‘His trapper’s manual, truck registration stuff and . . .’ She looked up at the sheriff. ‘He keeps his gun in there.’
And a box of condoms.
She wasn’t
going to mention those or face ridicule from Martin.

‘The gun is gone,’ the sheriff replied. ‘We found this on the seat.’ He handed over an evidence bag, like the kind on the cop shows. A piece of paper was inside, a note
it appeared.

They were right. I killed Nate and Brad. What with my mother gone now I hear them in my mind, calling to me. Demanding retribution for my sins. So
I’ve settled my score with that asshole Hadley and I’m out of here. No one will miss me. Just like when I was alive.

Riley looked up at Donovan, her mind whirling. ‘What? This is total crap. He didn’t write this.’

‘Tell me why you think that,’ the sheriff replied, watching her closely.

‘Beck never called Sadie his
mother.
There was too much bad blood between them.’ She sighed, unhappy to give up one of Beck’s closely guarded secrets. ‘That line .
. .
Demanding retribution
? That’s not Beck. He can barely read and write. Though the signature kinda looks like his handwriting, the rest of isn’t. It isn’t even
close.’

‘You sure about that?’ Martin challenged.

‘Yes, I am. I know his writing. This isn’t it.’

‘Someone might have helped him with it,’ the deputy countered. ‘I know a few in this town who’d be happy to see him gone.’

‘Beck has everything to live for now. He’s been invited to Scotland to meet some of the Grand Masters in the International Guild. For a trapper, that’s a
really
big
deal.’ She speared the deputy with a look. ‘Does that sound like someone who’s jonesing to kill himself?’

‘Not unless the guilt got to him,’ Martin replied sullenly.

‘No way,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘He wanted to clear his name. Someone doesn’t want that to happen.’

Riley’s phone rang. Irritated at the interruption, she pulled it out. It was Beck’s number. ‘Ohmigod, it’s him!’

‘Put it on the speaker,’ Donovan ordered. More fumbling, but she got it done. ‘Beck? Where are you?’ she cried out. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Go home,’ a raspy voice said. ‘It’s over.’

A second later, the sound of gunshot split the air.

Donovan snatched the phone from the girl before she dropped it. As he strode away from her, he jammed a finger in one ear and tried to listen to the sounds coming through the
speaker. There was silence, a clunking noise and rapid breathing. Then the call ended.

He hung up and when he turned back Riley was on her knees in the sand, rocking back and forth, sobbing, a strained, high-pitched wheezing sound issuing with every breath she took. Martin was on
his knees, trying to reassure her.

Donovan knelt on the other side of her. ‘Take it slow. Breathe in, then out. You’re OK.’

‘He . . . shot . . . himself . . .’

‘No, I don’t think he did.’

Riley’s tear-tracked face rose to his, desperate. ‘But . . . I heard . . .’

‘Just relax your breathing. That’s what’s important right now.’

Riley closed her eyes and made an effort to slow each breath, making them deeper, less panicky. Then she frowned. ‘Beck wouldn’t do that to me. That was cold. Cruel.’

‘I agree,’ Donovan replied ‘If Beck shot himself . . .’ He hesitated, his eyes meeting his deputy’s. ‘It probably would have been in the head. His gun is a
9mm, which would have taken him down instantly. I should have heard a body hitting the ground or some noise to indicate he was incapacitated. Instead there was rapid breathing for at least seven or
eight seconds, some other sound, maybe the gun being put down, then the call was disconnected.’

‘Beck can’t hang up a phone if he’s a corpse,’ Martin said, frowning.

‘Exactly.’

Fury built on Riley’s face as she struggled to her feet. ‘What kind of sick creep fakes someone’s suicide over the phone?’ she demanded, her fists balled.

‘The kind of person I want to see behind bars,’ Donovan replied.
Because if he’s going to all that effort, he’s hiding something big.

When he placed his hand on Riley’s shoulder, he felt her tremble. ‘Can you wait for me in my squad car? I’ll drive you back to town in a little bit.’

After the girl had collected her pack from the deputy’s car, Riley headed towards his cruiser. Though she held her head up and her back straight, Donovan could tell she was scared. She had
a right to be. Someone had taken this situation to a new and sadistic level.

Martin watched her closely. ‘You sure it wasn’t Beck?’

‘I am. No way he’d do that to any girl. Especially not
that
one.’

‘So what do we do now?’

‘Canvass the neighbours down here and see if they heard anything. Then pull Beck and Cole’s phone records, check who they’ve been talking to over the last few days. I’ll
swing by the hospital, see if Hadley is any shape to tell me who’s behind all this.’

‘That’d be like one snake turning on another,’ Martin replied.

‘That’s exactly what I’m hoping for.’

Donovan waited until they’d reached the main road back to town before he opened up a conversation with his passenger. ‘You better now?’

Riley nodded soberly. ‘What about the truck?’

‘As soon as we’re done with it I’ll have it towed to the motel. Sorry, but the fingerprint powder makes a real mess.’

‘I’ll deal.’

‘You planning on staying until we have this sorted out?’

‘That’s a definite,’ she said, her words clipped. ‘There’s something you should know about the undertaker.’