She felt a tremor in her bones, like the wake of a passing boat.
“Quade and I disagreed about a lot of things, and this was one of them. He used your mother’s history of mental illness and the quantity of alcohol in her system as corroborative evidence. There was no suicide note, but she’d threatened to kill herself in the past. And the fact that her lungs were full of water proved she was alive when she jumped in the river, according to him. The rocks in her pockets pointed to a conscious decision to end her life. Case closed. However, I still believe it was a homicide staged to look like a suicide.”
She stared at him, glassy-eyed. “You’re suggesting Stigler killed my mother and my sister?”
Palmer took a sip of coffee. “I used to follow him on my off-duty hours. I even brought him in for questioning once, but he threatened to sue the department, so I was ordered to back off. I’m retired now. I live off my pension. I don’t have much of a budget, but I can do whatever I please.”
“But the medical examiner came to a different conclusion?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time one of us disagreed with Pickler.”
“So the other detectives had concerns about him?”
“The few of us who were vocal about it are either dead or retired.” He shrugged.
“But you don’t have any evidence. It’s all circumstantial.”
“It’s a difficult case to prove.”
She shook her head skeptically. “What tipped you off to the connection between the victims and Stigler in the first place?”
“Vicky Koffman’s mother first mentioned the study to me. I soon found out that six other families were involved, and some interesting details emerged. Maggie Witt’s mother mentioned that during the interview process, Stigler would brush the hair out of Maggie’s eyes. Same with some of the other girls. I looked into Stigler’s background and discovered that he came from an abusive home. His father was a drunk who used to beat him and his brothers and mother, then abandoned the family when Stigler was seven. His mother was a drug addict and occasional hair stylist. As a small child, Stigler would play on the floor of the beauty salon where she worked.”
Kate nodded slowly. “That’s interesting, but still…”
“Trust me, there’s enough red flags. He’s gotten away with it for so long now, he’s convinced that everybody else is either too stupid or too blind to see it. As long as he doesn’t take any risks, he can keep on killing. In the meantime, he puts on a friendly face and pretends to be a normal, decent human being. But deep down, he knows what he is. And he’s proud of it.”
“Let me talk to him again.”
“Absolutely not. I don’t want you going anywhere near the guy. Not while he thinks he’s impervious.”
“So what can I do?” Kate asked.
“Sit tight.” Palmer scowled at her. “This man is dangerous. By showing up at his office today, you’ve piqued his interest. You might have made yourself a target.”
Kate nodded nervously. Palmer was right. If by some chance Stigler had murdered Kate’s mother and little sister, then he would have no compunction about killing her.
“Promise me one thing,” Palmer said. “No more adventures. Be careful. Watch your back. Keep your doors locked. And call me if anything unusual happens.”
“Unusual?”
“Hang-ups. Anonymous gifts. Unsigned letters. Damage to your property.”
“Are you serious?”
“Wait here a sec.” He got up and left the kitchen. She could hear him in the living room, opening drawers. He came back and handed her a canister of pepper spray. “Keep this handy.”
“Pepper spray?”
“For self-defense. Just in case.”
“Great,” she said sarcastically. “You really think he’ll come after me?”
“He may try to intimidate you but he won’t do anything rash. Not now. He knows I’m watching him. Besides, you’re too high-profile. He doesn’t want to get caught. Psychopaths hate to lose.”
“You’re really creeping me out, Palmer.”
“Nobody’s going to hurt you, Kate. Not on my watch.” He stood up and put on his coat. “Listen, it’s getting late. Why don’t you stay the night? I’ll swing by in the morning and take you to your car.”
She glanced at her watch. It was getting late.
He handed her the cabin keys. “Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. The clean linens are in the closet upstairs. The landline works, if you need to call anyone, and I’ve got a spare phone charger so you can juice yours up.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
He smiled. “No trouble. I’m beat myself. I’m heading home.”
“Okay. I’ll take you up on it.”
“Good.”
She walked him to the door. “Thanks for rescuing me today,” she said.
“Any time.”
She drew the chain-lock behind him.
47
KATE POURED HERSELF A cup of coffee and called James.
“Jesus, where’ve you been?” he asked. “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours. I’ve been worried sick.”
“My phone died and I’ve only just been able to recharge it,” she explained. “I’m so sorry, babe.”
“I called your father when you didn’t come home. He said you’d left his house hours ago. Where’d you go, Kate?”
“I got lost in the woods. The Balsams. I took you hiking there once, remember? Anyway, I had this crazy idea… and I was following a trail, when all of a sudden I thought I saw Savannah. And before I knew it, I was lost.”
“Oh, Kate,” he said with sympathy.
“By the time I realized I was in trouble, it was snowing really badly. And I could feel another migraine coming on. My phone battery was dying, so I called Palmer…”
“Palmer?”
“Detective Dyson.”
“Oh.”
“…because he knows the area really well, and he was able to walk me through it.”
“Where are you now?”
“In a cabin. Palmer’s cabin.”
“He has a cabin?”
“Yes. He’s letting me stay the night and says he’ll come and pick me up in the morning and take me back to my car. I feel like such an idiot for getting lost.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” James said. Then, almost as an afterthought, “How’d you reach him if your phone was dead?”
“I had a few minutes left,” she explained. “I would’ve called you instead, but it would’ve taken you hours to get here, and then you’d have had to call Search & Rescue anyway, and I couldn’t face the humiliation.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad he rescued you. I’m fucking relieved. But this has to stop.”
Kate shook her head. “What does?”
“I found the police files, Kate.”
“You went through my stuff?”
“You left them all over the living room. How could I not see them? And how sick are those pictures? This isn’t you, Kate. It’s that detective guy. I can’t believe he sent you those disgusting things.”
“He didn’t send them, James. I asked for them.”
“Seriously? Why?”
“Because there’s a possibility that Blackwood didn’t kill Savannah.”
James sighed loudly. “Didn’t we unpack this already? If the guy was innocent… if there was any proof of his innocence at all, the governor would’ve stayed the execution.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Look, I’m sorry I went through your stuff, okay? I shouldn’t have done that. But, Kate… do you think this is healthy? What’s the end game? I mean, let’s say Dyson is right. Let’s assume there’s a serial killer out there. What are you going to do—play Nancy Drew?”
Kate buried her face in her hands. She wanted to tell James about Stigler, but she couldn’t betray Palmer again. “You make it sound like a bad thing, that I want to know definitively who killed my sister.”
“We know who killed your sister.”
“But I’m beginning to think maybe Blackwood was telling the truth.”
“Then let the police handle it.”
“But that’s the whole problem,” she protested. “The police aren’t handling it.”
“Maybe because it’s not true?” James practically shouted. “Maybe it’s bullshit? Maybe Dyson wants to play the hero? You said the medical examiner didn’t agree with him, right? I mean, if this is for real, shouldn’t the police and the media be all over this?”