Prosecutor Cates called Schelz a demon who corrupted his own children, abused his wife, and murdered Hunter in cold blood after accusing the social worker of having an affair with his wife. During the trial Hunter’s wife testified that she reported her husband missing when he didn’t return home from a scheduled appointment with the Schelz family. In a warranted search, law enforcement dogs located Hunter’s body buried in a shallow grave on the Schelz property. The victim was murdered with a knife found in the Schelz kitchen. Experts confirmed that blood found on Hunter’s body provided a DNA match to Schelz.
Schelz’s wife, witness for the prosecution, testified that her husband, an alcoholic and self-proclaimed devil worshiper, physically and psychologically abused her and their two children repeatedly after his failed attempts to organize a congregation of devil worshipers. Hunter, a social worker sent to the Schelz home to investigate reports of child abuse, encouraged Mrs. Schelz to leave with her children. On the day of the murder, Schelz learned his wife was pregnant, shoved her against a wall and beat her. Hunter interrupted the beating and Schelz accused him of fathering the child. Schelz attacked Hunter and stabbed him repeatedly with a knife. Schelz threatened to kill his wife and take the children if she reported the crime.
The prosecution produced a pamphlet Schelz had written, promoting devil worship, self-gratification, punishment for infidelity, and justified vengeance.
The defense countered with a claim that when Schelz learned his wife was pregnant with a third child, he was subject to extreme emotional pressure and guilt.
At the close of the sentencing, Hunter’s wife said, “Justice has been served for Adan but our pain continues. We will never forget him.”
“Disturbing. Sad,” I said, sitting back. “At least we know Schelz’s brand of devil worship didn’t spread.”
“Do we?” said Nick. “How did his version of the symbol end up on Laycee’s body? Coincidence? I’d like to hear what Eagleton has to say.”
“Do you think the police would try to interview Schelz?”
“If he’s still alive. Or attempt to locate the publisher to see how many copies were printed and where.”
“A vanity pamphlet from over twenty years ago?” I said. “Good luck.”
“If the pamphlet can be tracked to Encino, you get the detective of the year award for triggering my memory,” Nick said.
“I gracefully decline. Please don’t mention my name to Eagleton. I didn’t tell you about my conversation with Carla tonight.” I gave Nick the highlights then said, “I prefer avoiding her if I can.”
“What was in the box you picked up at Jarret’s house?”
“Nothing important. Research texts. A small collection of erotica.” My words flew out too fast to edit. Nick turned with a silly grin on his face. I put up my hands to bar the inevitable tease and said, “Robin sent me the erotica for my thirtieth birthday. As a joke. She said every old woman needs an erotica collection.”
“Remind me to thank Robin next time I see her.”
“Oh, sure,” I said. “She’ll be thrilled you approve of her taste in literature.”
My cell phone rang and as I got up to dig it out of my purse, I glanced at the time. A call at eleven P.M. couldn’t be good news but on seeing the caller ID, I knew I had to answer.
“It’s Jarret. I should take this.”
Nick closed his computer. He lifted the box off the floor and said, “I’ll take this back to the garage while you’re talking.”
I slid the bar to answer and heard breathing. “Hello? Hello?”
“Lizzie-Bear? Baby? I’m s…so…sorry, honey. I didn’t mean it.”
I knew and despised that slur. Jarret was drunk out of his mind. I felt an urge to hold the phone away from my face or hang up.
“Where are you?” I said.
“I’m at…where am I?” He laughed. “I’m at the Sportsmen’s Lodge. Will you come over? I have to tell you…explain what…I’m sorry, Lizzie-Bear. Please come. I’m in, wait, what room…?”
“I’m not coming over. Jarret, are you okay?”
“I’m okay now that I’m talking to my Lizzie-Bear. I’m so sorry—will you forgive me?”
“Forgive you for what? What did you do, Jarret?” Please don’t let him confess to murder over the phone. Please don’t erase the good I thought I knew about the man.
“I’m not supposed to…come over? Lizzie? Please?”
“You’re drunk, Jarret. Go to bed. We can talk in the morning.”
“Promise, baby? You’ll really come and have breakfast with me?”
“Promise. I’ll meet you in the hotel coffee shop at nine-thirty.” I ended the call, curious why he chose me as his confessor.
Nick came through the patio door, talking on his cell. “Great. I’ll meet you there at one.” He hung up and said to me, “How’s wonder boy?”
“Drunk,” I said. “I agreed to have breakfast with him in the morning. He wants to apologize to me for something.”
“Murdering Laycee?”
“I hope not. He was upset, too out of it to make any sense. Who was that? Eagleton?”
“Izzy. We’re meeting at the library tomorrow afternoon. She needs advice, probably on a paper she’s writing.”
I tensed up. “What’s the paper on? Seducing older men?”
“Yes. And I’m her lab rat.” Nick pulled me into his arms and planted a knee-wobbling kiss on me. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, but you’re wasting your energy. I’m attracted to older, brown-eyed brunettes with long legs and complicated pasts.”
“Older?”