She wanted to turn all of this over to Detective Young. If she and Lucas could make a compelling case, maybe he would pursue it.
Yet...she didn’t know if she trusted the cop. She wanted to. Nothing in his background said he was corrupt. But he was dating Rachel Wagner, which gave Regan pause.
Why? Because you didn’t like her when you met her? Or because you think she had something to do with all this?
What would Rachel gain by helping Taylor cover up Candace’s murder?
Until Regan could answer that definitively, she didn’t know how much she should tell Young. She wanted to, because it was the right thing to do: it was his investigation. But maybe...she should bring in someone else, such as turn everything over to the sheriff’s department. They technically didn’t have jurisdiction, except for Taylor’s death.
She wanted to run this all by her dad, see what he had to say. He understood the potential problems and legal issues far better than she. For her, the most important thing was to make sure Lucas and Alexa were safe now while she and Lucas kept looking into Candace’s disappearance and homicide through the podcast and follow-up.
Alexa definitely knew more about what had happened to Candace. And she might be the only person still alive who did—which put her in danger and which Regan might be able to use to get Detective Young to revisit the case sooner rather than later.
But none of Lucas’s theories pointed to who might have killed Candace.
“Lucas, I’m going to try to convince Alexa Castillo to talk to me. Can you stay here? Don’t leave the apartment. Don’t answer the door.”
“Okay.”
“I’m serious,” she said because he didn’t sound convinced. “We opened up this hornets’ nest tonight. You have been feeding details about Candace’s death out, enticing listeners, implying you have more... What if the killer thinks you can implicate them?”
“But if Taylor killed Candace, why would anyone else come after me?”
“You can’t assume that, not without more evidence. Let me work this out, and I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”
Thirty-Six
It was nearly nine thirty that night when Regan arrived at Alexa Castillo’s house northeast of downtown, on a pine-lined street filled with small, well-maintained, single-story homes that were built in the early seventies. Jessie had lived not far from here when she first moved to Flagstaff with her mom; it was walking distance to their middle school for Jessie. Regan had lived too far out of town, so the bus had been her only option.
Even though the teacher didn’t have an online presence, Regan knew how to locate almost anyone, so a few public database searches and some logical guesses gave her Alexa’s address.
The lights were on, and Regan suspected that Alexa’s daughter would be asleep, so now was the best time to talk to her.
She knocked on the door. The small porch was filled with potted plants, blossoms just now peeking out as winter was fading into spring. The rain had slowed, intermittent drops falling lightly to the earth. But it was cold, and she would have really enjoyed being home with the fire going.
But she needed answers, and Alexa Castillo had them.
A man answered. Early thirties, clean-cut, Hispanic. “May I help you?”
“I’m looking for Alexa Castillo. I’m Regan Merritt. I talked to her at her school earlier today.”
His face darkened. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“I have new information. Tell her it’s about Adele Overton.”
He closed the door. Two minutes later, he opened it. “Bella is sleeping. Do not raise your voice. And if you upset Alexa, you’ll need to leave, understood?”
“Of course. And you are?”
“Mateo Sandoval. Her boyfriend.”
He led her into the kitchen, where Alexa was sitting at a small round table, her head in her hands. She looked up at Regan, tears in her eyes. “I listened to the podcast. I’m scared.”
Mateo sat down next to her, put his arm around her. “I’m not leaving you, baby. It’s going to be okay. You don’t want her here, she goes.”
“I should never have written that letter.”
Regan took a seat across from them. The kitchen was clean but cluttered, filled with cheerfully colorful dishes and tile work. The refrigerator door couldn’t be seen through all the artwork attached to it with alphabet letter magnets.
“The anonymous letter where you witnessed the argument between Candace and Taylor.”
She nodded. “Except I wasn’t there. I heard about it, knew about it, but I wasn’t there. I just thought I could do something.”
“Was Kimberly Foster there?”
“Yes. I thought after I wrote it that someone would talk to Kim. I don’t know, but I think she would have told the truth. I mean, she has a lot to lose, but at the same time, I don’t think she would lie. But I don’t know.”
“Start at the beginning. You weren’t at the Spring Fling party, but Candace came out to Kingman to see you.”
She nodded. “She called late Friday night, told me she was coming. Got there at three in the morning. We talked until dawn, cried, slept, talked more. But that wasn’t the beginning.”
Regan took a leap. “Adele Overton. She was the beginning.”
Tears formed in Alexa’s eyes, and she nodded.
“Do you know what happened to her?”
“Candace knew, and she told me. I should have known.”
When she didn’t continue, Regan asked, “Did you know, before I mentioned Adele’s name tonight on the podcast, that Lucas had known her?”
“Yes, because Candace told me. She told me about Lucas, that he’d been friends with Adele’s family. That he said some things to her that had her questioning everything. And then, as I listened, I realized why he started this podcast in the first place.”
“To solve Adele’s disappearance.”
She nodded. “It all made sense. I should have realized it sooner, but everything clicked tonight.”
“What were Taylor and Candace really arguing about?” Regan asked.
“I’m scared. There were four people in that conversation, and two of them are dead.”
“That will not happen to you,” Mateo said firmly.