“I’d actually love that.”
Avery gave Rose a kiss on the forehead and then headed back out. She again found herself thinking of connections and the members of the support group. There was something there, maybe something she needed to dig deeper into. She figured when morning arrived, she’d call Delores Moon and try to sort it all out.
She left the streetlights and buildings of the city and ventured out toward her new home. Things with Rose seemed to be better than ever and she also felt that she had something in her mind that she was on the verge of cracking into in regards to the case. The sun had another hour or so before it made its presence known but as for Avery, she already felt like today was going to be a good one.
***
Maybe it was having spent the last two days dealing with people and their fears, but Avery found it hard to be alone in the cabin when she arrived home. She felt like a foolish child, but she turned on just about every light in the house and turned the television on to a news channel just to have some active noise in the background. Hearing the murmur of the newscasters’ voices made her feel oddly safe as she stripped down and took a shower.
She thought about what she’d said at Rose’s bedside, about how there had to be some connection to the victims. But so far, the support group and Dan Hudson was the only link. Sure, fear itself was a link but their phobias had been so vastly different. So where was the connection? If she went deeper than just the support group itself, there was Delores Moon, but no red flags had gone off when Avery had met her. She wondered who else might have worked with the group in the past: other counselors, guest speakers, or anyone of that nature.
When she was out of the shower and dressed, she put on a pot of coffee. It was 5:05 when she scrambled some eggs and sliced up an avocado for breakfast. While she ate and drank her coffee, she Googled Delores Moon and came up with some pretty impressive results. She’d worked in a clinical supervision role for troubled teens and their families straight out of college before opening her own practice at the age of thirty-five. She’d been doing that for twelve years now, often volunteering her time to lead and manage small-group environments.
When she returned to the A1, she thought she might tackle some research to look into the fear support group to see if there had been anyone else involved with it recently. She worked a plan out in her mind as she put her dishes away and tidied up the house. She went outside, checked the mail, and swept the sidewalk, simply passing the time before Rose would call and ask to be picked up from the hospital.
Back inside, she sorted through the last two days’ worth of mail, passing by bills and a flier for a furniture store sale. And behind that flier was letter with only her address. There was no return address. She recognized the handwriting at once.
Who are you, Avery?
She tore the envelope open right away. A sheet of notebook paper sat inside, folded perfectly into thirds. She unfolded it and found another of Howard’s brief letters.
We all dwell on what we fear the most, he had written in an obnoxiously neat handwriting. Whether spiders or losing your family, fear is the same in all its shapes. It is up to us if we let it control us, though. We all dwell on what we fear the most.
She read it three times, noting right away that the opening line and the last line were the same. He was repeating it on purpose. It was really no different than sitting across that table in a back room in the prison, hoping he could lead her to some profound breakthrough that would crack a case. Despite the last three months, he was somehow still looking over her shoulder.
At least with the package that had arrived on the day she’d nearly killed herself, she could brush it off as Howard being eccentric.
Who are you, Avery? It was really a very deep and nonsensical sort of question.
But this letter was different. It seemed more purposeful. We all dwell on what we fear the most.
When her cell phone rang, she shook violently. It’s him, she thought. It’s Howard calling…
But the name and number on her phone’s screen proved this paranoid theory wrong. It was Finley. And he was calling at 5:40 in the morning, which meant one of two things: either there was a break in the case or there was another victim.
“What have you got, Finley?”
“Nice to hear your voice, too,” he joked. “Look…we’re pulling at any straws we get here. We got a call twenty minutes ago from a guy named Joe Potter. He said he was worried about a friend of his. Said he got a weird call from his friend’s cell phone. Jumbled noises and the sound of her crying.”
“Maybe it was a butt dial?” Avery asked.
“Even if it was…the call came at four thirty in the morning. He tried calling back and it goes straight to voicemail. I’m calling you because of where the guy says he met his friend—a woman he made sure not to call his girlfriend.”
“Where?” Avery asked.
“At a support group for phobias.”
“Holy shit,” Avery said. “Give me his number, would you?”
“I’ll text it to you when we end this call. You want me to come out and lend a hand on this?”
“No, I think I’ll keep Kellaway. But thanks all the same.”
She ended the call and dialed up Kellaway. As she spoke to her new partner, she heard a tone in her ear as Finley’s text came through. She set up plans with Kellaway and then placed another call, this one to Delores Moon.
She was in such a frenzy and preoccupied with the phone that on the way out of the cabin, she barely had time to pass a second glance at the letter she had received from Howard. Still, that one line remained plastered to the front of her mind as she got into her car and headed back into town.
We all dwell on what we fear the most…
CHAPTER THIRTY
Avery’s call to Delores Moon had gone to voicemail. She’d left a message and then followed with a text: Contact me ASAP. Potentially urgent. Without her red strobe siren—an attachment that she’d started to use, the very same emergency light that Ramirez had always referred to as the Red Bubble—she realized she’d draw the attention of any cops in the area. She ran red lights and broke the speed limit all the way back into the city. And once again, she was able to recall how much she had loved the thrill of pursuit once upon a time.
When she pulled into the parking lot of Kellaway’s apartment building, Avery’s phone rang. She saw Kellaway standing on her stoop, waiting for her, and flashed her headlights at her. Dawn was on its way but had not yet done enough to eliminate the need for headlights.
Avery answered the phone, recognizing the number she had called less than twenty minutes ago.
“Detective Black?” Delores Moon asked. “I got your messages.”
“Yes, and I’m sorry to have called you so early,” she said. She then recounted what Finley had told her about Joe Potter’s phone call. Before she was even done, Moon let out an audible gasp on the other line.
“The call was most likely from a woman named Heather Ellis. She was one of the dropouts you heard about yesterday. She stopped coming about a month or so ago because she and Joe had gotten somewhat romantic behind the scenes and their romance was distracting the rest of the group.”
“Did she leave on good terms?” Avery asked.
“Oh yes. Heather had come a long way. She understood that Joe still needed the help of the group. She stopped coming willingly, though I had recommended her to some other resources.”
“So she came to the small group with a phobia she was trying to overcome?”
“Yes indeed. A rather nasty fear of heights.”
Kellaway reached the car and stepped inside. When she saw Avery on the phone she stayed quiet. Avery put the call on speakerphone and set it on the console.
“Had she overcome that fear while in the group?” Avery asked.
“She’d gotten a bit better. But the fear of heights is so common that it is rarely taken seriously.”