Unlocking Darkness (Keys to Love Series, Book Five) Page 2

  The low chime of the door buzzer signaled someone had entered the station. Mitch hadn’t even had time to roll his chair up to his desk when his father made an appearance at his door.

  “Dad, everything alright?”

  Gus Kendall didn’t reply right away, but instead slowly made his way to one of the two guest chairs that were positioned in front of Mitch’s desk. His father sank into what had to be the most uncomfortable seat in the station, removing the toothpick from his mouth. The strain around his blue eyes was noticeable.

  “We almost lost your sister last night.”

  “We didn’t lose her,” Mitch corrected, hoping that his statement hit home. Their father had been through hell these past three years after losing his one and only wife. He shouldn’t have to think there was a chance he could outlive one of his children. “Gwen fought back and took away his initiative. Special Agent Thorne has a detail sitting outside of her farmhouse as we speak.”

  “A lot of good that will do,” Gus irately replied with good reason. He pointed the toothpick Mitch’s way to emphasis his words. “The original protection detail never should have been pulled from her to begin with, and you know it. When Detective Kendrick handed everything over to the feds, this case should have been finished up within days.”

  “It doesn’t work like it does on TV, Dad.” Mitch understood everyone’s frustration, but each decision in this case had been weighed to the fullest. Thorne had done what he felt was in the best interest of the investigation and also within the budget he was allowed. “Agent Thorne and his team are doing the best they can, given the evidence and the circumstances.”

  The dull ache that had made itself known was now raging war inside Mitch’s head. He couldn’t believe he’d been reduced to defending the feds when he’d gone behind their back himself only hours ago to bring in someone he trusted.

  “I asked Gwen if she’d come back to stay at the house for a little while,” Gus revealed, looking down at his toothpick. Mitch had only ever seen this sense of helplessness on the man once before, and that was when Mary Kendall had been on her deathbed. “You know, at least until she’s healed.”

  “That’s not what you meant, and she probably knows that.” Mitch stood from his chair that he’d never rolled closer to his workspace. He walked around the desk and took the other guest chair so that he could be closer to his father. “Dad, Gwen is going to be fine. Chad will be staying with her for the time being, and you know for a fact that the Noah, Jace, and Lance will be hovering over her until we get this son of a bitch behind bars or into the morgue.”

  “It’s good to have you boys back to look after things,” Gus said softly, the black and white clock on the wall ticking louder than his voice. “It’s good to have all of you home.”

  Mitch leaned back in the chair and quietly sat with his dad, knowing that’s all that needed to be said. Gus Kendall didn’t want to return home to an empty house. No one would, under the circumstances. All he’d do was sit and worry about his children, as would any parent.

  Mitch and his siblings had returned to Blyth Lake after they’d all served their country. It was a family tradition, and one that they’d proudly carried on over the years. He and his three brothers had served in the Marines, while Gwen had joined the Navy. It had been his intention to serve the full twenty years, but a few pieces of shrapnel had somewhat altered that plan.

  He’d been the first to recognize when he’d been unable to physically continue doing what was needed to do on a daily basis. He’d refused to drag it out to retirement and debase himself in doing so.

  Sixteen years served honorably and faithfully was listed on the papers, but he’d been given an early retirement on a medical basis. He couldn’t argue with that, especially seeing as he was still walking and able to do for himself. A few pins and rods made of metal helped with that, but it was better than returning home like so many of his own heroes had.

  “How’s the house working out?” Gus asked, most likely getting annoyed at the clock above the desk. “Did you ever get someone to fix the fence around the east field?”

  “Not yet,” Mitch replied, not going into further detail. This murder case had been eating away practically every minute of the day, but he didn’t want to remind his father of that. Hell, Mitch was lucky he even had time to take a piss. “I’d actually like to do some of the fence work myself. I should have time yet before the first snowfall.”

  To say that he and his siblings had been surprised to all be given keys to homesteads on their return home was an understatement. Granted, none of the houses were brand new. They were established properties that needed quite a bit of renovations, but that’s the way the Kendall family did things. They worked for what they had, and they were proud of doing things that way.

  Mary Kendall had received a sizable inheritance from her father, though she’d never spent a dime of it on herself. She and Gus had squirreled it away for a very special occasion, though it remained unspoken that a bit of pride may have come into the picture.

  Gus Kendall had worked with his hands his entire life, and his own business of crafting handmade high-quality wooden furniture had put food on the table and clothes on their children’s backs. He’d provided for his family the only way he knew how, and that was important around these parts.

  In the end, it had been their mother’s dying wish that those properties in their childhood hometown be purchased for her children to raise their own families in someday. And here they all were—back home.

  “We’ll catch this son of a bitch, Dad,” Mitch promised quietly, having already explained to his family that he’d called in a favor from an old friend. He’d spoken to Allie earlier this afternoon, so he wasn’t expecting her to arrive until tomorrow. “In the meantime, we’re doing the best we can to protect the residents of Blyth Lake.”

  “Everyone is on edge,” Gus admitted with a slight shake of his head. “Harlan Whitmore, Chester Mayer, Calvin Arlos, and even Tiny Phifer are talking about creating some type of neighborhood watch for the town as a whole. Hell, even Jeremy Bell said he’d help out and walk a patrol. With his health issues, he’s lucky he can cross the street without passing out.”

  “Jeremy Bell was the last to lose his daughter,” Mitch gently reminded his father, knowing it was hitting a little too close to home. “He wants this lunatic caught even more than the rest of us.”

  “I came very close to being in Jeremy’s shoes last night.” Gus compressed his lips together as he ruminated over the danger his family had been placed in since their return. “I’m beginning to think—”

  “Don’t you dare say it, Dad.” Mitch rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward to make sure his point got across. “It was time for all of us to come home. None of us regret returning to Blyth Lake, not even Gwen.”

  “A homecoming is supposed to be a time of rejoicing, son. It just feels as if we’re all fighting for our lives here.”

  Mitch understood why his dad would have that sentiment at the moment.

  Yes, young girls from the community and beyond had been abducted and killed, only to end up at the bottom of the lake in their own little makeshift graveyard. But it wasn’t just their lives that had been ruined. Mitch could only hope that those victims found peace in death, while those left behind had to deal with the pain of that loss until they took their own dying breaths.

  “We are fighting for our lives, Dad,” Mitch agreed, tacking on something that he believed they should all take to heart. “We’re fighting against a darkness that descended on this town a long time ago, and it’s time to reclaim what’s rightfully ours.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Good morning, young lady.”

  Allie Delaney looked over her shoulder, but no one was there. She realized that the older gentleman rearranging the cornstalks outside the hardware store was actually talking to her. He was the second individual to do so without having any idea of who she was. It was rather endearing to have complete s
trangers speak to her this early in the morning as a courtesy with no alternative agenda.

  “Good morning, sir,” Allie replied with a smile. Her mood continued to brighten in spite of the severe lack of caffeine she’d had since leaving Virginia at such a godforsaken hour that it dare not be repeated, and that was saying something, considering her background. “I like your decorations.”

  To say that Blyth Lake was a quaint town practically snatched from a canvas of a Norman Rockwell painting was a bit of an understatement. She’d thought these kinds of places had been phased out and been replaced with suburban strip malls for as far as the eye could see. When she’d driven past the blue and white population sign, there had been tended flower beds with the most beautiful blooms she’d ever seen—and it was nearly the end of October.

  Who was lucky enough to have a green thumb, along with the time to nurse along flowers growing in a public easement? The people here in this small town had something very special going for them. They also had something equally as bad against them, which was the very reason she was here in the first place.

  “We’re hosting an early trick or treating event tomorrow night for the kids and their parents. All the shops are joining in to make it as much of a success as we can manage.” The older gentleman continued to talk, so Allie slowed her pace until she’d come to a complete stop nearby. “Did you get settled into the B&B okay? I’m surprised you’re out and about this early after coming in on the redeye.”

  Allie had to have misunderstood what the man said. That wouldn’t be a hard feat, considering the exhaustion she was battling.

  She attempted to maintain her casual outward appearance while she tried to figure out how it was possible for him to know where she was staying, as well as the fact that she’d taken a redeye out of D.C. Not even Mitch Kendall, the man she’d flown out to see, had known of her travel schedule.

  So much for this place being too good to be true.

  “I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name,” Allie said nonchalantly, steering the conversation back toward him.

  Allie would take this man’s name and run him through the NCIS database the first chance she got. It was clear he was delighted with himself that he’d caught her off guard. He didn’t fit the profile of the serial killer that she’d been personally requested to flesh out, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have some association with the unsub or a partnership of some sort.

  It certainly wasn’t unheard of in past investigations.

  She could very well have just solved Mitch’s case in the thirty seconds it had taken her to walk down the B&B’s steps and the additional sixty seconds to reach this storefront. The odds were so blindingly absurd that she had to smile to herself.

  “Calvin Arlos,” he said with his own smile, holding out his hand in greeting. Allie recognized his name. The report had mentioned that he’d owned the town’s only hardware store, but he was awfully spry for recovering from having a recent heart attack. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Delaney.”

  Calvin’s name had been amongst the long list of suspects she’d been given. She’d learned early on in her career not to discount anyone who remained questionable, but he certainly wasn’t high up on her list of possible perpetrators. She was quickly changing her opinion of him though, given that the hardware store owner was aware of details he shouldn’t have normally had access to.

  “How do you know who I am, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  Allie had reserved the last room at the B&B, and only then by sheer chance. She’d been given three nights only. Apparently, a reporter who was covering the Blyth Lake Serial Killer case was returning at that time to do a follow-up piece.

  She could see why this investigation had all but taken over every regional newspaper, as well as topping out below the fold via a few nationally syndicated crime and investigation columns.

  This town was picturesque with bygone oddities that were somehow still endearing.

  Hadn’t Mitch mentioned over the phone that at one time the only exciting thing to happen around here was when some eccentric man claimed to be abducted by aliens? It was unfortunate what had occurred since, but this case would have been yesterday’s news in the papers had these murders taken place in a major city.

  “Oh, everyone knows you’re arriving today.”

  Calvin leaned down and adjusted a rather large pumpkin so that it was positioned to the right of the cornstalk. Allie almost stopped him. Should he be doing this type of physical labor given his state of health? Her gut reaction was that this man wouldn’t have appreciated her pointing out his weaknesses.

  “Oh, really?”

  “You called Florence about a room at the inn, who in turn told Molly when you were arriving. Molly’s a waitress at the diner, and I’ve already had my breakfast this morning. Besides, the reporters staying at the inn don’t carry firearms. At least, not in holsters concealed underneath their jackets. Don’t worry. It’s not that noticeable. Most FBI types carry Sigs, right?”

  Allie was quite proud of herself that she’d followed Calvin’s logic to identify her in a long line of strangers who were probably milling about town waiting for the story to break. So much for the advantage of remaining anonymous and just an old friend of the family.

  Mitch had also seen fit to give her names of shop owners and those residents who’d had any contact with the victims on a daily basis. Florence ran the day-to-day operations at the inn, and Molly was a waitress at Annie’s Diner who had come into contact with practically every victim from Blyth Lake over the last two decades.

  The fact that Calvin had noticed Allie’s firearm wasn’t unusual, though the earth-tone plaid blazer she’d chosen to wear was buttoned. Her jeans and knee-high boots topped off the perfect autumn outfit.

  Allie had purposefully avoided the typical appearance of an agent in the field. She’d wanted to blend in and appear as if she were on vacation. It was quite chilly this morning, and she’d packed accordingly.

  “Not a lot gets past you, does it, Mr. Arlos?” Allie gave him the compliment, all the while wondering what she was missing in this scenario. Mitch was one of the most intelligent men she had the pleasure of knowing, and she didn’t doubt for a second that he would utilize the citizens in this investigation to further the development of reliable leads. So why was it taking him so long to solve this case? It should have been open and shut long ago, especially given that most of these serial killers wanted to be caught sooner or later. Recognition for one’s hard work was hard to come by, and this sadistic individual had it in spades. Maybe he wasn’t ready to give it up quite yet. “Oh, by the way…your cornstalk and pumpkin decorations look fantastic.”

  “You aren’t going to ask me any questions?” Calvin inquired with a bit of confusion, reaching around in his back pocket to pull out a handkerchief to wipe his neck. He then used the white fabric to dry his hands as he studied her carefully, as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop. “You know, about the murders up at the lake? About the people who have lived here all their lives?”

  Allie could see why Mitch had been frustrated with the lockstep way Special Agent Jay Thorne had handled the investigation. He was like a bulldog putting checkmarks into little boxes to determine what came next, and no one could tell him any differently. It wasn’t that the man wasn’t good at his job. Quite the opposite, actually. He was very systematic and relentless in his pursuit of the truth. He closed cases quickly, moving on to the next one as if there was a prize for most cases solved in a year. Unfortunately, no one could claim he was a people person.

  “I’m just in town to visit an old friend, Mr. Arlos. You all seem to be working under some false assumptions. I’m not normally a field agent, nor am I on assignment here.” Allie motioned to his Halloween display to draw his attention away from the topic of conversation. She wanted these townsfolk to be comfortable around her and not believe she was analyzing every word that came out of their mouths. “I’ll stop by tomorrow afternoon, th
ough. Save me a piece of candy.”

  Allie might be a city girl through and through, but she was damned good at her job.

  “I like you, young lady,” Calvin boasted, waving a hand in the air as he turned to enter his shop. “Have a good day, and make sure you say hi to Mitch for me.”

  Allie continued to slowly walk down Main Street, in no rush to get to the diner. She’d told Calvin the truth in that she wasn’t here on business. She was here for a friend to bounce ideas off of and talk about possibilities. She’d come to repay a personal favor. That didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy this so-called time off while she was here in Small Town, USA.

  When was the last time she’d taken a vacation?

  Honestly, she couldn’t remember when.

  In fact, she’d had to look up her vacation balance before submitting her request a couple of weeks ago, because it was a required entry on the form. She’d had no idea all the days she’d accumulated over the years.

  Granted, a tropical breeze with an umbrella drink in her hand might have been more relaxing than fifty or sixty-degree weather in southeastern Ohio, but she was paying an old debt.

  Someone waved from inside the bakery, and Allie almost made a pit stop. She made a mental note to pick up a jelly donut before she left town. They were a weakness of hers, wherever she went. Seattle held claim to the trophy so far, but she was always looking for another competitor. One of the prerequisites was that the donuts had to be freshly baked or they didn’t even get a shot at the crown.

  She continued to take in the beautiful storefronts and all their spooky Halloween decorations, wondering if this antediluvian town was like this all year-round. The lampposts were out of the nineteen fifties, and the hand-painted windows were downright charming. The shop owners must get quite the turnout of trick or treaters with the way some of these shops adorned their display windows with seasonal decorations.