A Lethal Truth
Author
Alexis Morgan
Reads
16.2K
Chapters
19
She survived a serial killer… but can she evade him again? Aubrey Sims escaped a serial killer, but she never stopped looking over her shoulder. And now her deepest fear is beginning again: the killer is back. He's begun playing a cat and mouse game with Aubrey, making her relive a nightmare that never really went away. Cold case detective Jonah Kelly — a man who has his own past failings to atone for — will do whatever it takes to protect Aubrey. But their wounded hearts are drawing them all too close just as the killer's noose tightens around them…
ONE
As far as Aubrey Sims was concerned, it was pretty much a toss-up who was more excited about the fact that there were only two weeks left in the school year—the kids or their teachers. While she dearly loved her third grade students, keeping them focused on their classwork pretty much burned up every ounce of energy she had. Right now, all she wanted to do was go home, fix a snack and put her feet up for a while.
Unfortunately, she had a couple of errands to run before any of that could happen. So far, she’d gotten gas and picked up enough groceries to last until the weekend. That left just one more stop—her weekly visit to the post office to pick up her mail. It wasn’t exactly convenient, but she preferred to have it delivered somewhere other than directly to her house. After all, a single woman could never be too careful.
Inside the post office lobby, Aubrey unlocked her box and dropped all of the mail into the canvas bag she’d brought in from the car. There was also a key for one of the larger boxes the post office used for oversize items. When she unlocked it, inside was a padded envelope addressed to her.
Aubrey studied the envelope and frowned. She gave it a gentle squeeze and thought maybe it held a small box. She hadn’t ordered anything recently, but maybe her mother had wanted to surprise her with something. On second thought, that didn’t seem likely. Her birthday was still months away, and there weren’t any upcoming holidays that warranted a gift. That was a puzzle to solve later. For now, Aubrey dropped the envelope into her bag, more than ready to be done for the day.
On the drive home, she found herself glancing at her canvas bag and wondering about the unexpected envelope. What on earth could it be? As much as she wanted to learn the answer to that question, other things had to take priority. Once she was parked in her driveway, she concentrated on carrying in the groceries as well as the stuff she’d brought home from school to work on that evening.
Once everything was inside, Aubrey carefully engaged the two locks on the front door, fastened the security chain, and finally turned the dead bolt. The security system showed no alerts, but still she did a quick inspection of every room. She hated being so paranoid, but when something unexpected happened—however innocent—it sometimes triggered a powerful compulsion to check inside the closets and even under the beds.
Satisfied that she was safe, Aubrey dumped all of her mail out on the dining room table to sort. Junk mail went into the recycling bin while the bills joined the stack next to her computer. That left the mystery envelope. To postpone opening it a little longer, she fixed herself a glass of ice water before sitting down at the table. There, she picked up the mysterious envelope and studied it. Her name and address was written with a felt tip pen, the handwriting sloppy and not very professional-looking. The more she studied it, the more uncomfortable she became, and her curiosity morphed into something closer to dread.
It was tempting to get up and walk away, but delaying would accomplish nothing. After taking a deep breath, she gently tugged on the tear strip that would open the envelope. It took her two tries to rip it off completely. Peeking inside, she saw that she’d been right about the small box. It was the size and style that might hold earrings or possibly a necklace. Tipping the padded envelope over, she let the box and a pink envelope slide out onto the table.
Which should she open first? Not that it really mattered. She really hated that her hand was shaking when she gently lifted off the lid off the box. Nestled in a layer of padding was a rare coin, a type Aubrey recognized on sight. She’d only seen one other like it in her lifetime, but the image had been burned into her memory forever.
Chills ran up and down her spine as she quickly shoved the lid back onto the box. The truth was that even out of sight the coin had the ability to terrify her. That was because other than the police, there was only one person who understood the significance of a buffalo nickel in Aubrey’s life. And if the coin was scary, the accompanying note would likely be far worse.
The pink envelope was the size that normally held greeting cards or maybe fancy stationery. Even without opening it, she sensed her life going off the rails again, but ignoring the threat wouldn’t help. Experience had taught her that the only way to deal with life-altering disasters was to keep moving forward one step at a time. She forced herself to pick up the envelope to see what she could learn from it.
The sender had tucked the flap inside the envelope rather than sealing it shut. That made sense. He—and she was sure it was a “he”—probably hadn’t wanted to risk giving the authorities his DNA by licking the envelope. Her name had been written in the same messy handwriting, but this time with a ballpoint pen.
Having learned all she could from the envelope, she reluctantly moved onto the note inside. Taking great care not to damage it, she unfolded the paper and set it back down on the table. Before reading it, she stopped to sip some water, hoping to ease the huge lump in her throat. It didn’t work. Rather than try again, she turned her focus to the message on the paper. At first, she couldn’t make sense of what it said even though the writing was legible and the words correctly spelled.
No, the problem was that her brain wasn’t functioning properly and couldn’t string the individual words together into any kind of coherent message. Maybe reading them aloud would help. It took a second try before anything began to make sense. Horrible, terrible, terrifying sense. She found herself being plunged back into the middle of a nightmare that had begun twelve years before and changed her life forever.
There were differences this time. Back then the words had been spoken to her face, not written in an anonymous note. She read through it again, hoping against hope that she’d only imagined the similarity, but no such luck. Even if the message wasn’t verbatim, its meaning was the same.
Hi, Aubrey. Have you missed me? Well, I have good news—I finally have time for you. I promise we’ll have fun—or at least I will. See you soon.
The words continued to play like a drumbeat in her head to the point she wanted to scream. She finally gripped the edge of the table hard enough to make her hands ache. It was the best way to stop herself from sliding down onto the floor to curl up in a ball of pure misery. Using every bit of determination she could muster, she pushed past the acid-burn of fear to formulate a plan.
When she could finally draw a full breath, Aubrey carefully refolded the note and stuffed it back into the pink envelope. Then she shoved both it and the box into the padded envelope. Hoping to find a moment of peace, she closed her eyes and offered up a prayer asking God for strength and guidance. As always, putting her trust in Him helped her feel centered and back in control. Finally, she braced her hands on the table and stood, moving slowly to make sure her legs would support her. Proud of her success, she put the padded envelope back in her canvas bag, picked up her purse and headed for the door.
It might have been smarter to call the police, but she didn’t want them swarming all over her home. It was her sanctuary, and she was careful whom she let come inside. No, she would go to them and share the news. Finally, after twelve years, her cold case had just turned hot.
Detective Jonah Kelly nodded in response to greetings from several of his coworkers as he made his way through the cluster of desks that formed the heart and soul of the small police department in Elkton, Washington. Under other circumstances, he might have stopped to chat with a few people, but right now it was all he could do to keep moving forward. He’d spent the late morning and early afternoon at the doctor’s office followed by one of his twice weekly physical therapy appointments. Translation: he was now in a world of hurt.
The therapist had warned him that he’d pushed too hard and done too much, but Jonah disagreed. He’d do whatever it took to get both his life and his career back on track. To work out in the field, he needed to regain a lot more mobility in his right leg. Progress was being made, but there was a long way to go. Even a single bullet did a lot of damage to a knee joint.
When he finally made it into the minuscule office they’d assigned him, Jonah closed the door and quit pretending that he could walk without limping. Gritting his teeth, he slowly lowered himself into the desk chair and stretched out his right leg, trying to find a position that didn’t hurt. When that didn’t pan out, he gave up and settled for one that ached a little less.
Choosing a file at random, Jonah began reading, forcing himself to go slow and not just skim over the information previous investigators had recorded in their reports. He jotted down a few notes, but nothing of consequence. From what he could tell, that seemed to be the nature of working cold case files. Every so often someone would review the file in case a fresh pair of eyes would spot something no one else had seen. It wasn’t that the police didn’t care about cold cases, but sometimes the evidence simply didn’t lead anywhere no matter how much they hoped it would.
An hour later, he got up to get a cup of coffee. It was really more of an excuse to stretch his legs and ensure the right one didn’t lock up completely from being in one position too long. After adding two sugars and a heaping spoonful of creamer, he started the slow trek back toward his desk. If he were at home, he could’ve used heat and then ice to ease the pain. He might have also taken one of the prescription pain pills he allowed himself only on the worst days.
Here at work, the most Jonah could do was a few slow stretches and then try to get lost in the next file in the huge pile of reports left to him by his predecessor. Detective George Swahn had worked the department’s cold cases for over two decades. He’d been ready to retire for a while now, but he’d been waiting for the right guy to come along and take his place. When that didn’t happen, he’d given up and settled for Jonah. They both knew this wasn’t the kind of work Jonah wanted to be doing, but right now he didn’t have much choice but to accept a position that was pretty much a desk job.
At least working alone eliminated the possibility of watching another officer bleed out in the street. On the night he’d been shot, Jonah had screamed himself hoarse as he crawled to his dying partner’s side. He’d gotten there too late to do anything except pray that God would watch over Gino’s widow and their three kids.
That had been two months ago, but the memory of watching Gino die was never far from Jonah’s thoughts. At night, he often lay awake for hours trying to find answers to the questions that plagued him from the beginning. How had a simple interview with a witness gone so wrong? And if someone had to die in that alley, why had it been Gino, loving husband and father, instead of Jonah? That was something he’d been asking himself, his therapist, and even God over and over again. Sadly, he was no closer to understanding the why of it all than he’d been when he’d regained consciousness in the hospital.
Heavy footsteps approached, stopping a few feet away. “Hey, Jonah, the desk sergeant is looking for you. Evidently there’s an Aubrey Sims downstairs in the lobby, and she’s insisting on speaking to you. Something about a weird envelope.”
With some effort Jonah shut down his prior train of thought and turned to face Sergeant Tim Decker. The standing joke was that Decker had been part of the original equipment when the precinct was first built. Jonah had never had the courage to ask the man how long he’d been on the job. But based on his wiry gray hair and the deep wrinkles framing his eyes and mouth, the sergeant had a lot of long, hard miles on him.
That said, Decker’s mind remained razor sharp, and Jonah wasn’t the only detective who consulted him when they needed advice on a case. There wasn’t much he hadn’t seen or done when it came to law enforcement.
“Did they say what was weird about the envelope?”
“Nope, other than she insisted it was definitely something you needed to see. Seems she made it pretty clear that there was no way she’d leave it with anyone else.”
When Decker didn’t immediately walk away after delivering the message, Jonah figured the sergeant’s own curiosity had kicked in. “It must be one of Detective Swahn’s old cases. I’ll hunt up the file, and then we’ll go see what’s up.”
It didn’t take Jonah long to pull the file. Rather than keep the woman waiting any longer, he decided he could wait to review the details when he found out more about what had brought her to the station today. He and Sergeant Decker left his office and turned in the direction of the elevator in the far corner. The staircase was closer, but everyone knew steps weren’t exactly Jonah’s best friends these days. Decker quietly adjusted his stride to match Jonah’s as they crossed the room. When he pushed the button to summon the elevator, he quietly asked, “You’re probably tired of being asked a lot of questions, but are you doing okay?”
It was wrong to react to genuine concern with anger, and the older man certainly deserved better than for Jonah to growl at him. Instead, he waited to answer until they were inside the elevator with the door closed. “It varies. I had physical therapy today, so right now my knee is barking at me.”
They both knew Decker wasn’t only asking about the state of Jonah’s knee, but at least he didn’t press the issue. “It’ll get better. Those docs work miracles these days. I had a knee replacement last year, and it’s amazing how much more I can do these days.”
The slow-moving elevator settled on the first floor, one level down from where Jonah’s office was located. They started toward the lobby at the front of the building. The desk sergeant looked relieved to see them coming.
“Thanks for coming down, Detective Kelly.”
“Anytime, Sergeant. Decker here says an Aubrey Sims asked to see me.”
“Yeah, she did.” He dropped his voice to a low whisper as he glanced down at the clipboard in front of him. “Just so you know, I recognized her from her previous visits. She used to ask for Detective Swahn, but I guess maybe she’d heard he’d retired. I put her in the first conference room.”
Sergeant Decker followed Jonah down the hall. They stopped by the window into the conference room long enough to check out the woman inside. At the moment, her attention was focused on a canvas bag lying on the table, which afforded them an opportunity to study her for a few seconds.
“Do you recognize her?”
Jonah started to shake his head, but then an image popped into his head that changed his mind. He’d worked alongside Detective Swahn the last week before the other man had officially retired. About the third day, they’d spent the morning reviewing cases Swahn thought deserved special attention. They were on their way to lunch when Swahn spotted someone standing on the far side of the lobby.
He’d drawn a sharp breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. In a low voice, he explained his reaction. “No matter how hard we all try, there are cases that won’t ever have a satisfactory ending, which means some folks will never find closure. For those of us who work cold cases, that percentage is even higher. My advice is to learn how to let go of the frustration and take satisfaction from the cases you do manage to close.”
The older detective gave the young woman a pointed look. “Having said that, there are always going to be some that stick with you and always will. Aubrey Sims over there comes in every few months to see if there’s been any progress on her case. I hate—really, really hate—having to tell her that nothing’s changed. I’m not going to miss this part of the job.”
With that depressing memory in mind, Jonah finally answered Decker’s question. “Sadly, I’m pretty sure I do.”
Then he entered the conference room alone and closed the door.
