People didn’twantto believe in monsters.
They made the monster under the bed imaginary and diagnosed the murderers with a pre-existing condition.
They had trauma, a syndrome, a reason that made them what they were.
Anything that they could explain away. Or, failing that, apply charity to it until they felt like they’d been penitent enough for the killer’s sins to be forgiven.
At least that was Ledger’s theory about why the Sutton Church of Christian Fellowship had been moved to provide clean sheets, hot food, and prayers for the town’s only serial killer. The pristine pillows and the curdled soup in its big turquoise mug on the bedside table did provide an unsettling touch to a space that, otherwise, hadn’t been touched since the day Bell’s verdict was given.
His mom’s wedding ring still sat on the dressing table, covered with dust. A symbolic comment on the marriage that hadn’t been seen or commented on for decades. In the corner of the room, the old rat cage was cleaner, with a fresh plastic wheel and food in the dish.
Ledger had never liked the rat. A twenty-year-old rat was just not normal.
Wren gave a shove from behind as he caught up and pushed past him into the room.
“You can’t just say something like that and walk out,” he said. “What the fuck did you mean?”
“What I said.”
Ledger unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and folded them back as he tried to work out where to start. He’d gone through here once already, but it hadn’t been thorough, and he’d not known what to look for. Not that heexactlyknew now, but he had a better idea. Halfway through his left sleeve, it occurred to him that Wren hadn’t a comeback for that claim. He looked over at the other man, who was staring at him.
“What?”
Wren blinked at him and then creased his face in a scowl. “Bell Conroy was a rag-and-bone man, Ledger. He traded bric-a-brac for breath and scraped together, what, a couple of extra years? Maybe. He didn’t know shit.”
It felt like they’d skipped a beat in the discussion. Ledger thought about trying to pin down what exactly, but decided against it. He grabbed a laundry basket full of good-church-lady folded clothes and emptied it onto the floor.
“He killed himself.” Ledger pushed the plastic basket into Wren’s chest. “Hold this.”
“What the fuck?” Instinct made Wren grab the basket before it fell. “What does that have to do with it, and what are you doing?”
“Do you know what is going to happen when you die?” Ledger asked. He headed over to the bedside table and began to go through it.
Wren made an annoyed sound as he trailed after him. “Do you know how to answer a fucking question?” he said as he dropped the basket next to Ledger. “I’ll give you a hint. It doesn’t involve another question. And I don’t work for you.”
“Bell knew,” Ledger said. There was a whole shelf of thin, spine-cracked Westerns and detective novels, a dead Nokia phone the size of a half-brick that Ledgervaguelyremembered in his sister’s hand, and a Bible stashed in the bedside table. Ledger pulled them out and stacked them in the basket. “It wasn’t going to be fun before he was arrested. Afterward, when he wasn’t only a sinner butinsolvent? No way Bell would have killed himself… unless he was more scared of what was coming for him on this side of the Veil than what was waiting for him in Hell.”
Wren made a “maybe” sound in his throat. He sat down in the stuffed armchair next to the bed. “Cancer is a bad way to go,” he said. “Last I saw him, Bell was in a lot of pain, and it was only going to get worse. Maybe he just wanted to skip the starter and jump to the main course.”
“He set his own prices,” Ledger said. “And you said it yourself, he didn’t ask anyone to take away the pain. He asked for more time, pain or not. He killed himself because he knew what Earl was.”
Wren snorted and stuck his hand down the side of the cushion.
“If he knew what Earl was,” he said, “he wouldn’t have tried to con us.”
He pulled a couple of pennies out of the chair and made a smug noise as he counted them. Ledger watched him for a moment.
“OK, you’re right,” he said. “Bell killed himselfafterhe learned what Earl was. Give me a hand with this.”
Wren glanced up from his change. “Again,” he said, “pretty sure I don’t work for you.”
“I’ll give you twenty bucks.”
“Istartedwith the sexual encounter of your dreams.”
Ledger snorted as he pushed the basket back from the bed. He peeled the sheets back and grabbed the edge of the mattress. “I have no idea what you dream about,” he said as he tried to lift the mattress. “And I—”
“Go on a date with me.”
