A contemptuous snort. “You mean Deputy Brown?”
“Is that his name?” Caden sliced open the plain envelope, listening while his brother relayed a phone conversation he’d had with Katie Lynch. “Maybe she got his name wrong,” he suggested when Ryan was through. “It could have been Clive Broder.”
“I asked. He was off duty last night. I even tried the hospital, thinking I could pick up word on Jerome.”
“What’d you find out?” Hopefully, nothing serious had happened. Jerome was loopy, hung up on conspiracy theories, but he was an okay guy.
“Nothing.” Ryan frowned openly. “Jerome never showed up at the hospital—with or without Deputy Brown.”
Caden shrugged, slipping a sheet of paper from the envelope. “Maybe he went home.”
“I tried calling. No answer.”
“Could be sleeping. Especially if he’s not feeling well.”
“Yeah.” Ryan tugged his bottom lip with a thumb and forefinger. He was quiet a moment before speaking again. “It’s early yet. Maybe I should take a drive and make sure he’s okay. Katie seemed pretty upset.”
And Ryan wouldn’t want Katie upset. He might not admit it, but Caden was sure his brother had a soft spot for Doreen Sue’s daughter. “Since you’re technically off duty, I’ll tag along.”
“You sure?” The agitation fled Ryan’s voice, replaced by a thread of wariness. “You do remember Jerome bought Hank Jeffries’ old place?”
“Yeah.” It was time to put that ugly fiasco behind him. He’d hung up his badge for eighteen months over the mess with Jeffries and the Kline brothers. For too long he’d believed he could have done something differently—that Hank didn’t have to die, or Parker end up in a mental ward. He’d been back on the force four months now, reinstated to his old rank. Sadly, Parker Kline would never be the same.
Hank Jeffries had been a decent guy, but he’d had two well-known vices. He was petrified of the Mothman, claiming to have seen the monster once, and he liked to drink. Excessively. Unfortunately for Tim and Parker Kline, just days from high school graduation, Hank had been drunk out of his skull when they’d decided to prank him.
Two years ago on a warm June night, Tim had dressed up as the Mothman and the brothers crept onto Hank’s front porch. In the dark, fueled by an alcoholic haze, Hank had thought the monster was real. He’d pumped a shotgun blast into Tim’s face, killing him instantly.
By the time Caden arrived on the scene, Hank was sobbing uncontrollably, Tim’s lifeless body cradled in his lap. Only later, would Caden learn the boys had borrowed their father’s truck for the night, and that Parker had raced back to grab the revolver Floyd kept wedged under the seat. When he returned, his face was blank, his eyes burning with an unnaturally bright light. Before Caden could intervene, Parker put a bullet point-blank in the center of Hank’s head. Caden had been forced to fire in retaliation.
The boy spent the next several weeks in the hospital fighting for his life. Eventually, he was given a hearing, deemed unfit to stand trial, and placed in the state mental ward. A shell of the outgoing teenager who’d once been a track star for the Black Knights, he spent most of his time babbling about UFOs.
Caden puffed out his cheeks. Time to suck it up. He hadn’t been to Hank’s place since the night Jeffries and Tim were killed. “I can handle it.”
“If you say so.” Standing, Ryan snatched his jacket from the back of his chair. “Hey, what’s that?” He nodded to the sheet of paper in Caden’s hand.
“Not sure.” Wrapped up in the past, he’d almost forgotten about the letter. Unfolding the page, he discovered two sentences in black ink written in the center.
I remember her. You should too.
“A little short on whom I should remember.” Frowning, he turned the paper so his brother could see.
Ryan leaned forward to read the words. “What the hell does that mean?”
Caden shrugged. There was no return address on the envelope, but the postmark read Austin, PA. “Someone from Austin, Pennsylvania who remembers someone I might have forgotten.”
“That covers a lot. Freak show, if you ask me.”
“Nah. Probably just someone I sent up for domestic assault or something.” Tossing the letter on the desk, Caden stood. “Hopefully, the guy’s found a better home in Austin. Let’s go check on Jerome so you can keep Katie happy.”
Ryan frowned. “I never said—”
Caden shot him a grin. “You didn’t have to.”
Hank had never been an overly neat homeowner. Apparently, Jerome wasn’t much better.
Caden pulled his police cruiser into a small gravel driveway, stones crunching loudly beneath the tires. Clumps of weeds, still stubbornly clinging to life before the first frost of the year, sprouted in patches among the pebbles. Beneath the front window, shrubs huddled in a snarl of raggedy branches crowned with browning leaves. Jerome’s Impala was tucked beneath a carport, sheltered by a rust-pitted aluminum canopy. “Looks like he’s home.” Caden parked behind the sedan and killed the ignition. The property hadn’t changed much since Hank owned it. Still dingy and gray, the house sported the same shuttered windows and sagging front porch. Hank had been too wrapped up in his paranoia over the Mothman to notice the neglect, and Jerome had done nothing to step up repairs. “Think I’ll wait in the car.”
“Huh?” Ryan shot him a surprised glance.
“The guy’s obviously home. You’re probably going to wake him up by pounding on the door. No need to freak him out by finding two sheriff’s sergeants waiting outside.”