I lean back in my chair and look at him, seeing him in a completely different light. He repulses me. I’m aware that Thornsberry has gone silent. “Is there anything else I need to know about any of this?” I ask. “Anything else you’d like to tell me?”
Johnston raises his gaze to mine. “Two days after … that night, Blue Branson and Jerrold McCullough asked me to meet them down at the covered bridge. They beat the hell out of me. They broke two of my fingers. Broke my nose. A couple of ribs.” He looks away. “They basically told me they’d kill me and my parents if I ever said a word to anyone.”
“That’s intimidation,” Thornsberry asserts.
I nod, but my mind is reeling. I stare at Thornsberry, who can’t quite meet my gaze. I can’t look at Johnston; I’m not sure how to handle this, how to feel. While he wasn’t directly complicit in the crimes that were perpetrated that night, he had some advance knowledge. Yet he hadn’t known enough to stop it. Still, once news of the crimes became public, he could have gone to the police. He’s had thirty-five years to come forward and didn’t.
Gathering the file, I rise and turn off the recording device. “Under Ohio code,” I tell both men, “prior knowledge of a crime could mean a complicity charge.”
“I didn’t know anything! I did nothing wrong!” Johnston rises, but Thornsberry presses him back into the chair.
“Chief Burkholder.” Across from me, Thornsberry rises. “He was a minor. Sixteen years old. He’d been intimidated and physically assaulted.” He lowers his voice. “That’s not to mention we have a deal. On tape.”
“I’ll get with the prosecutor,” I tell him. “In the interim, I’ll have a statement typed up for Mr. Johnston to sign. We’ll talk about a deal after he signs it. For now, Norm, you’re not to leave town. Do you understand? One foot over the line, and I will throw everything I’ve got at you.”
Johnston slumps in his chair. “I was a victim, too,” he says.
“The prosecutor won’t bring charges,” Thornsberry tells me. “My client did not break the law. In fact, he just solved a major case for you.”
“I guess it’s about time, isn’t it?” I pick up the file and start toward the door.
Thornsberry blocks my way, smiling, my best friend now. “Because of my client’s position as councilman—and the unlikelihood of any charges being levied against him, I’d like to keep this discussion confidential until an official agreement is reached.”
“This was not a discussion,” I tell him. “It was an interrogation.” I go around him.
“Chief Burkholder!” The councilman slaps his hands down on the tabletop. “Please. My reputation!”
I feel nothing but disgust when I look at him. “All of this is going to come out. If I were you, I’d resign my position on the council now, before they remove you.” I open the door. “Have a nice day, gentlemen.”
*
When it comes to a homicide investigation, information is never a bad thing. Sometimes even faulty information can lead to something usable. I should be pleased; I now know who was at the Hochstetler farm that night. There’s no statute of limitations on murder, so I’ll be well within the realm of my duties to arrest and hold Blue Branson.
But in terms of the things I’ve learned about the people I thought I knew, I’m left trying to make sense of something that’s absolutely senseless. All of them—Dale Michaels, Julia Rutledge, Jerrold McCullough, even Blue Branson—were pillars of the community. They were neighbors. The kinds of people you smiled at on the street. Yet they’d lived in this town and kept their dark secrets the entirety of their adult lives. How is it that no one ever really knew them? And while I may have solved a thirty-five-year-old cold case, I still have three unsolved homicides on my hands.
A tap at my office door draws me from my reverie. I look up to see Glock walk in. “I just put Branson in the interview room, Chief, if you’re ready to talk to him.”
I give him the details of Johnston’s confession. “I’ll get with the county prosecutor and see how he feels about charging him with a complicity charge. But Johnston was a minor and intimidation was involved. At the very least, he’s finished as councilman.”
He nods, but I can see his mind already moving on to the other cases. “Do you think Blue’s responsible for these more recent murders? I mean, if one or more of them decided to blackmail him. That’s a pretty strong motive.”
“I thought of that. But they would have risked incriminating themselves. Plus, he’s got an alibi for the Rutledge murder.”
“He could have hired someone.”
“Maybe. But I don’t know, Glock. Something doesn’t feel right about that.”
“So who else do we have?” He thinks about that a moment. “Hoch Yoder?”
“According to the police report, Hoch stated the perpetrators wore masks. He never saw their faces.”
“Maybe he’s been doing a little investigating on his own and figured it out.” Glock shrugs. “Or someone said something to him.”
“Maybe.” Lowering my head, I rub at the ache building behind my forehead. “We’re overlooking something.”