Chapter Twenty-four

Dutton, Friday, February 2, 2:50 p.m.

The box was filled with photographs and drawings Simon had made. Some Daniel recognized as identical to the pictures his father had burned, but there were many more. Hundreds more. Grimly, he pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket and began to pull the pictures from the box. These photos showed the faces of the young men as they’d committed their obscenities, and somehow they’d managed to make some of their lewd acts seem consensual, just as Annette O’Brien had said. He tightened his jaw as he shuffled through each handful. He’d known what he would see, but the reality was far worse than he’d imagined. He stared at the boys’ faces, horrified and physically ill.

“They’re laughing,” Alex whispered. “Goading each other on.”

Rage surged, and with it a pagan urge to choke the life from their vile, despicable bodies. “Jared O’Brien and Rhett Porter. And Garth Davis,” he said harshly, remembering how concerned the mayor had been that night at Presto’s Pizza when he’d demanded answers about the man murdering the women of Dutton. “Sonofabitch. He was at Presto’s. He let Sheila serve him food, all the while knowing what he’d done.”

“Throwing the book at Garth Davis will feel damn good,” Luke said grimly.

Daniel moved to the next picture. “Randy Mansfield.” He thought about the bad news he’d had from Chase as he’d waited outside the house for Luke, Susannah, and Alex. Mansfield had raped young girls. Now Daniel knew he was a killer, too.

Beside him, Alex flinched when he showed the next picture. Wade. With Alicia.

“I’m sorry,” Daniel said, sliding the picture to the back. “I didn’t want you to see it.”

“I already had,” she said in a low voice, “in my mind.”

Daniel continued shuffling through the photos, then came to a dead stop when he saw Susannah. Young. Unconscious. Violated. His hands jerked, reflexively flipping it over, and he stared at the back of the hideous photo, his emotions churning.

He’d left her here, alone. Unprotected. With Simon. Who’d done… this. His roiling stomach heaved. He hadn’t known back then. But it didn’t change the fact that it had happened. Simon had allowed… No, he’d encouraged those animals to violate his own sister. My sister. She’d been scared and abused and I did nothing.

Bile burning his throat and tears burning his eyes, he slid the picture into his suit pocket, away from the others. He looked away. “I’ll burn it,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’m sorry. God. Suze.” His voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”

Nobody said a word. Then Susannah took the picture from his pocket and put it with the others. At the back of the stack, but with the others all the same.

“If I’m going to take my self-respect back, I have to stand with them,” she said with a calm that cut him in two. Unable to reply, Daniel only nodded.

Luke moved to his side and took over the task of sorting through the pictures while Daniel gathered his composure. He and Luke worked on in silence, and by the time they’d finished, they’d identified five young men, monsters all.

“Garth, Rhett, Jared, and Randy,” Alex said quietly. “And Wade. That’s only five.”

“Number six was Simon, who took the pictures,” Daniel said, frustration eating at his control. “But we still don’t have the seventh. Goddammit.”

“I thought Annette said they had pictures of everyone,” Alex said. “That that was how Simon kept control.”

Luke stripped off his gloves. “Maybe she was wrong.”

“She was right about everything else.” Daniel forced his mind to think, to piece together what he knew. “But someone else had both keys to that box, or we would have found the pictures in there. The last access to the safe-deposit box was six months after Simon left twelve years ago.” Daniel pointed to the box. “These pictures have been here all this time, so we have to assume there were at least two sets to begin with.”

Luke nodded, understanding. “Simon lied about everyone being equally implicated. He had a partner. The seventh boy.”

“Whose name we still don’t have,” Daniel said bitterly. “Dammit.”

“But you have Garth and Randy,” Alex said urgently. “Bring them in. Get them to talk. Get them to tell you where they put Bailey.”

“I already did,” Daniel said, putting the top back on the box. “While I was waiting for you to get here, I had Garth’s tail pick him up.” He hesitated, dreading what he had to tell her. “But Mansfield… Alex, the agent who was following him is dead.”

Alex paled. “Mansfield killed him?”

“It looks that way.”

Anger flashed in her eyes. “Dammit, Daniel. You knew about Mansfield yesterday. I begged you to pick him up. If-” She cut off the rest of her accusation, but it still hurt.

“Alex, that’s not fair,” Luke murmured, but she shook her head hard.

“Now Mansfield knows you know what he’s done,” she said raggedly. “If he has Bailey, he’ll kill her now.”

Daniel wouldn’t insult her intelligence by denying her words. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Her shoulders sagged in defeat and his heart clenched. “I know,” she whispered.

Luke picked up the box. “Let’s get this back to Atlanta and start questioning Garth. He knows who the seventh boy was. Let’s get him to roll.”

“I’ll give my statement,” Susannah said, glancing at her watch. “My flight’s at six.”

She was following Luke out the door when Daniel got hold of himself. “Suze. Wait. I need… I need to talk to you. Alex, can you give us a minute?”

Alex nodded stiffly. “Can I have your keys? I’ve got a migraine coming on and my Imitrex pen is in my purse.”

He could see the pain behind her eyes and wished he could erase the stress that had put it there. Instead, he fished out his keys. “Stay with Luke.”

Her jaw clenched as she snatched the keys from his hand. “I’m not stupid, Daniel.”

“I know,” he murmured after she was gone. It didn’t change the fact that he worried about her constantly. Like he should have worried about Susannah, back then. Daniel forced himself to look into his sister’s eyes. They were carefully blank. She looked delicate. Fragile. But he’d learned that Susannah, like Alex, was neither delicate nor fragile. “What made you come back?” he asked, and she lifted a slim shoulder.

“The others will testify. What kind of coward would I be not to do the same?”

“You’re not a coward,” he said fiercely.

Her lips curved sardonically. “You have no idea what I am, Daniel.”

He frowned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She looked away. “I have to go,” was all she replied as she turned to go.

“Susannah, wait.” She turned back, and he forced himself to ask the question he needed to know. “Why didn’t you tell me? Call me? I would have come to get you.”

Her eyes flickered. “Would you have?”

“You know I would have.”

Her chin lifted, reminding him of Alex. “If I’d known that, I would have called. You left, Daniel. You got away. The first year you were at college, you never came home, not once. Not even at Christmas.”

He remembered that first year of college, the overwhelming relief of getting away from Dutton. But he’d left Susannah to the wolves. “I was selfish. But if I’d known, I would have come back. I’m so sorry.” The last was a helpless plea, but her expression didn’t soften. There was no contempt in her eyes, but neither was there forgiveness.

He’d thought he’d needed atonement, to bring justice and closure to Simon’s victims. Now he just wanted forgiveness from the one person he could have saved, but didn’t.

“It is what it is,” she said evenly. “You can’t change the past.”

His throat thickened. “Then can I change the future?”

For several seconds she said nothing. Then she shrugged. “I don’t know, Daniel.”