“I thought it was time for him to pay. For once in his miserable life, he was going to know what it was like to be powerless. See how he liked it.”
“What’d you do with the money?” When Starkey didn’t answer, Mark pressed him. “You being so concerned about your cousin, I figure when she’s asked, she’ll say you gave it to her, right? For her emotional suffering.”
The answer was written in the other man’s expression. “Just because Shelley’s moved on doesn’t mean DeVries shouldn’t have to suffer, finally. I’m the one who learned he got that job with the sheriff’s office, so I laid the groundwork. I didn’t suggest anything illegal. Plenty of people in my family in Columbus remember what happened, even if he didn’t live around there for long. Wouldn’t take much to plant a story about it in his local newspaper, and that’s what I told him. DeVries is the one who mentioned making it worth my while not to do it.”
“How’d you contact him?” They hadn’t found anything on DeVries’s home computer or cell that linked to Starkey.
“Used my day off to wait for him in the parking lot outside his office.” A flicker of pride crossed Starkey’s face. “He didn’t remember me at first, but once I started talking, he couldn’t wait to get me out of there. Had me meet him at some dive bar a few miles away. That was the only contact we had. He just mailed the checks on the yearly dates we agreed on.”
“Ever late for a payment?”
The man swung his head back and forth. “A guilty conscience makes a man punctual.”
“And how much did he agree to pay in total?”
“Twenty thousand. He still owes me another five. We agreed on a four-year payment plan.”
“I wouldn’t start spending the rest, if I were you.” Mark nudged a legal pad toward the man. “Write it down. All of it. I want dates and names of anyone who can verify the story about your cousin. Phone numbers and addresses. Then write a full accounting of your meeting with DeVries. And while you’re at it, include where you were the night of October 30.”
The man picked up the pen. Tapped it restlessly on the pad. “I don’t have to give the money back, right? It was a business transaction between two consenting parties.”
“Yeah, extortionists often describe it that way.” Catching the eye of his SAC through the small glass window in the door, Mark rose. “Don’t leave anything out.”
He left Starkey to the task and walked out of the room. Special Agent in Charge Todd Bennett jerked his head toward the man Mark had left behind. “Think he’s good for the girl’s kidnapping?” The SAC had been watching the interview in the next room on CCTV.
“He and DeVries just jumped to the top of my suspect list.” Mark looked back to consider the door he’d just left. “There must be something to Starkey’s story for DeVries to pay him that much money. I need to take a run at him. Craw talked to him about the money the first time, and he flat-out lied about it.”
“Maybe the money is only the start.” Bennett’s voice was grim. “Could be our friend in there also planned for DeVries’s daughter to suffer the same thing his cousin did.”
As far as motivation went, revenge was the most solid one they’d encountered so far. Mark nodded grimly. “I’ll be all over his alibi,” he promised. “I’ve already done a preliminary check on him. He doesn’t have a criminal history, but we’ll dig deeper.” If a cousin of the alleged victim could be driven to blackmail Brian DeVries, what might the girl’s immediate family be capable of? Starkey wasn’t the only family member that required investigation. “It’s also possible that the guy’s just an opportunist. He saw a chance to stick it to DeVries and make some money at the same time. And for all his professed indignation on his cousin’s behalf, it doesn’t sound like he shared the money with her.”
The SAC’s faded brown gaze was shrewd. “Interesting that the DeVries case never showed up in the law-enforcement background check.”
Lifting a shoulder, Mark said, “It wouldn’t if it had been sealed or expunged. But Starkey would have had to have been a teenager himself at the time. Maybe he doesn’t know all the details. We don’t even know at this point if it got reported. I’ll find out.”
Todd nodded. He couldn’t be much over fifty, but his hair was prematurely white. It glistened under the florescent lights. “Agent Greg Larsen has taken over profiling duties for us in the last couple years. He’s acquainted himself with the Kelsey Willard case, should you ever want his input.”
This was news to Mark. He hadn’t known the agency had replaced Luther Sims. “I might do that.” Switching the subject, he said, “Ben mentioned you had another agent in mind to take his place on the case.”
“Don’t worry—I haven’t forgotten you.”
“Great. I’ve got so many loose threads on this case, I’m starting to feel like a cat chasing a laser pointer. When’s he start?”
“Not he.” Bennett took his vibrating cell from his pocket. Looked at the screen. “She. You’ve worked together before. Sloane Medford will be in West Bend the day after tomorrow.”
The man had already turned to answer the call before he finished the sentence. Then he strode away. It was just as well. Mark wasn’t sure he was a good enough actor to keep the dismay from his expression.
Sloane Medford. God damn it.
The clouds were charcoal smears across the sky, extinguishing every hint of light. Mark got turned around twice before finding the private drive he’d been directed to. It opened to a small clearing in front of a neatly built log cabin. From the twin spears of his headlights, he could see the front door open and someone step outside onto the porch.
Luther Sims, the retired BCI profiler who’d worked the Ten Mile Killer case.
Mark brought the vehicle to a halt. It had been pretty clear how Ben Craw had felt about Sims being brought in on the Willard disappearance seven years earlier, but for now, Mark was the lead on this investigation. And after spending hours the last several nights poring over the old case files, he knew he’d be remiss in not getting firsthand information from the BCI’s expert on the TMK.
Getting out of the car, he zipped up his coat before walking toward the cabin. It was still chilly but without the torturous arctic wind from earlier that day. “Mr. Sims.” There was a ramp leading up to the porch. He climbed the steps next to it and stuck out his hand. “Mark Foster. Thanks for agreeing to meet me. Sorry about the hour.”
“Agent.” Sims’s handshake was firm. “Don’t worry about the time. As I said on the phone, we just got home only a few hours ago ourselves.” He jerked a thumb at a small SUV parked in front of a detached double garage. It still had a canoe fastened to the racks on top. “Still haven’t completely unpacked. First matter of business when we arrived was to get Elizabeth, my wife, situated. Please come in.”