THERE IS NO ESCAPE FROM THIS SAVAGE PLACE.
The words were carved in Elias’s chest. From what Titus could see, that was just the beginning of the hell he had suffered. There were dozens of slashes on the body and across the face. Elias’s belly had several deep puncture wounds consistent with a bowie knife. There were nails driven through the palms of his hands. His penis had been flayed.
Titus swallowed hard and stepped closer to the body. The smell was horrid. A mix of vomit and shit that enveloped the remains in a noxious cloud. Titus reached out his hands and grabbed the man’s chin. There was something in his mouth. Titus gently pulled down on the chin while pulling up on the nose.
A dead rat snake slid out of Elias’s mouth.
Titus took two quick steps backward.
“‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,’” Davy said.
“‘He maketh me lay down in green pastures,’” Pip said.
“‘He leadeth me beside the still waters,’” Steve said.
Soon all three of them were chanting the rest of the Twenty-third Psalm in unison.
Titus didn’t join them.
God wasn’t here. This was the devil’s work. And the devil was a man.
* * *
Titus went back to the office while Reverend Elias Hillington’s body was taken to Richmond. Pip volunteered to do the notification.
“Once upon a time I went to school with Mare-Beth. She might take it better from me,” he’d said before heading out to the island.
Titus locked the door to his office and then sat down in his chair. He was in a race against time. The Last Wolf was spiraling out of control, but in doing so he was taking lives with him. Titus silently chastised himself for calling him the “Last Wolf.” He’d given him a name after all. He’d solidified his status as a myth without even realizing it.
Titus rubbed his face with both hands. This all but confirmed the killer was the little boy Elias and his family had abused for all those years. Titus did some quick math. If he was twelve in 2000, then he was around twenty-nine or thirty now. Titus closed his eyes and examined his mental photographs. He tried to think of all the faces he saw every day. He tried to visualize a mixed-race man around thirty years old. Was he passing for white? Was he someone who had positioned himself outside of Titus’s standard social circle? Was that why his face was just a blur in his mind?
His door erupted in heavy-handed knocks.
“Titus, open up, we need to talk,” Scott Cunningham yelled from the other side of the door.
Titus pinched the bridge of his nose. Hard.
He got up and opened the door. Scott swept into the room with his chest puffed out and his usual air of superiority now a gale-force wind.
“What do you want, Scott?” Titus said.
Scott sat down without being asked and crossed his legs.
“Titus, I think it’s time to admit this thing has gone on too long and it’s out of your control. Now we’ve lost a member of the clergy! Not to mention how tourism has fallen off,” Scott said.
“I’m glad you have your priorities straight,” Titus said.
Scott grinned. It made Titus think that someone somewhere was missing their canary. “Titus, I’ve told you time and time again I’m not your enemy. I just want what’s best for Charon. My family has been here since the county was founded. But I think we both know what’s happening now is beyond your skill set. Now, I contacted the state police, and they said—”
“You did what?” Titus said. His voice rose like a tidal wave.
“The state police. I asked them to come in and take over this case. Now, they said the only way they could do that is for you to request it because you’re the sheriff. And, Titus, you are going to request it. I don’t think I’d have a hard time getting that recall now,” Scott said.
He hurled the threat with delight, but in that moment Titus suddenly realized he didn’t much care about recalls and motions. He just wanted to catch this killer. Maybe … maybe it was time to let the state police come in. Not to take over, but to take the lead and bring the full weight of their resources to the party.
“‘Humility is not thinking less of yourself. It’s thinking of yourself less,’” one of his instructors had said at the Academy. It was years later when Titus realized he was quoting C. S. Lewis, but that didn’t make the statement any less true.
He was just loath to humble himself at the feet of Scott fucking Cunningham. But if the state police could stanch the flow of blood flooding Charon, then maybe he should prostrate himself all over his goddamn wing tips.
“Scott, I think—” Titus started to say, when an alert buzzed on his cell phone.
“Titus, this isn’t really about what you think anymore. As chairman of the Board of Supervisors it’s my duty to do what’s best for Charon. And right now, you’re not it,” Scott said. He tried to appear tortured, but he couldn’t quite bring it off properly.
Titus’s phone pinged again.
“You want to get that so we can finish this conversation?” Scott said.
Titus felt his temper rising like his voice had a few moments ago, but he tamped it down and checked his phone.
He had an email from Dr. Kim. It was marked IMPORTANT/CONFIDENTIAL.
Titus began to read it as Scott went on gibbering about the honor of Charon and how it was not to be besmirched.
Sheriff,
I ran the DNA sequence through the CODIS. Unfortunately, we didn’t get any hits. I also took the extra step of contacting several online genealogical companies in an effort to run a comparative familial DNA sequence. Sheriff, we got a hit on one of those.
Titus read the rest of the email.
He sat his phone on the desk.
He leaned forward and put his hands flat on his desk.
“I assume we have an understanding, Titus? If you don’t mind, I’d like to be here to make sure you do actually call and make that request with the state police,” Scott said.
Titus steepled his fingers.
“Scott.”
“Please don’t make this any harder than it already is, Titus,” Scott said.
He then launched into another long harangue that Titus thought sounded like bricks in a washing machine. Sound and fury signifying nothing but one man’s insecurities.
“Scott, look at me.”
Scott stopped talking long enough to see the fire in Titus’s eyes. The ferociousness that erupted in the eyes of a predator when it was closing in on its prey.
“Scott. Tell me about your half brother.”
Cunningham’s brow folded in on itself with deep furrows.
“What the hell are you talking about, Titus? This some ploy to keep your job? Because I assure you it won’t work.”
“We’re not talking about me anymore. I know your sister, Alanna; I never knew you had a half brother,” Titus said.
“I don’t have a half brother, goddamn it!” Scott said.
“Yes, you do. On your mama’s side. That message was an email from the ME. She ran the DNA we found on the body through some online genealogical services. She found a hit. Last year you sent your DNA to TheFamilyTree.com. The ME found it shares several significant markers with the DNA sample she sent in. Maternal markers. Now, I’m gonna ask you again, tell me about your brother. Because he’s the one who helped Spearman kill those kids. He killed Cole Marshall and Elias Hillington. If you really care about Charon, tell me his name,” Titus said.
“We did the DNA thing for Mom’s birthday. She always said we were related to some Mayflower folks. We aren’t,” Scott muttered.
“Scott, tell me his name,” Titus said. He said each word slowly.
“I don’t know! I don’t have a half brother!” Scott yelled.
“DNA says otherwise. See for yourself,” Titus said. Was there a hint of satisfaction in his voice?
Perhaps.
He slid his phone across the desk toward Scott. He watched the chairman read the email as his lips moved. Scott put his head in his hands. He was hyperventilating.
“Scott, calm down. You’re gonna make yourself sick. I’m seeing this is new information for you,” Titus said. He tried his best not to sound sarcastic. His momentary pleasure had evaporated. Not for the first time, he found himself sharing a family secret. It was never a good feeling, even if it was directed at an asshole like Scott Cunningham.
“That whore,” Scott said. It came out low enough that Titus figured Scott didn’t even realize he’d said it aloud.
“Who, Scott?” Titus asked gently, knowing full well who Scott was talking about.
“I have to go,” Scott said. He got up and headed for the door.
“I’m going to have to talk to her,” Titus said.
Scott froze. “You’re not going anywhere near my mother, Titus Crown.”
Titus sighed. He was sighing a lot nowadays. “I am going to talk to her, Scott. She had a son, your half brother, who has DNA on the bodies of murdered children. There’s no way I’m not going to have a conversation with her. You say you care about Charon? This is how you prove it.”