“I’m just glad you called me last night.” There was little joy in his tone, and I suspected that he was beating himself up. If he’d been able to learn the truth about Baker when he’d snooped around several months ago and reported it to his contacts in law enforcement, Shannon might still be alive.
Before I could say another word, we heard vehicles pulling in behind us and saw the windshield dancing with the reflection of pulsing red and white lights.
Backup was here. I could only make out Riley’s silhouettein her car, but she appeared to have her head in her hands. Cody had taken everyone in, even her.
About thirty minutes later, after the police had assessed the scene and taken a brief statement from me, they drove me to the municipal center to make a fuller statement and to speak with Killian directly. When the sheriff finally arrived, along with a few state police colleagues, he handed me my purse—and a good news bulletin.
“Cody Blaine was apprehended north of here a few minutes ago,” Killian said. “It’s possible he was making his way to the Canadian border.”
I felt a rush of relief, but also a wave of sadness. Those poor Blaine kids. No amount of resiliency would help them handle what life had dealt to them.
“And what about this guy Sean? I told the police about him at the tennis club.”
“Yes, we’re on that. Now why don’t you start from the beginning about what happened tonight.”
I went through the story again for Killian. He seemed warmer than he had the first time I’d sat across from him, but I could sense he was irritated by my having taken matters into my own hands. He and the others pelleted me with questions, trying to be sure they had everything Riley had revealed to me.
When I’d finally been wrung dry of answers, Killian leaned back in his tan metal chair and exhaled deeply.
“You realize, don’t you, that you put yourself in tremendous danger tonight? And as far as you knew, you were thwarting our own efforts.”
“I know, I see that. But I’d only driven there with a quick question about Tom Nolan and then everything unfolded so quickly.... Had you begun to figure it out?”
“We had our suspicions. Blaine was one of the people Alice Hatfield had called the day she died.”
“Yeah, I feel dumb about that now. He told me she’d just called him with a question about Sunset Bay. And I was not initially suspicious of that.”
“He had a lot of people fooled, Bailey. I wouldn’t take it personally.”
“Do you have any idea how Alice put it all together? She knew—most likely from reading the same article I did—that Cody had an army friend who’d come from the area. I wonder how she figured out his name.”
“One of the other calls she made on Sunday was to a contact of hers with the county veterans’ affairs office. She asked him for the names of area men who’d served in Afghanistan just under ten years ago, and even though it was Sunday, he went through digital records for her and tracked down a list of names. He supplied us with that list, but since she’d never mentioned any suspicions to him, we assumed she simply wanted to interview people who served with Blaine.”
“She obviously saw Dirk’s name on the list and knew it was significant for some reason—and probably mentioned the guy to Blaine.”
“And then he figured she was close.”
Killian made a movement to suggest we were done.
“Once you sign your statement, you’re free to leave. We’ll have someone drop you off at your vehicle.”
“Are you going to call Ben Hatfield?” I asked as he started to rise.
“Yes. Please leave that to us.”
When I set foot in the Courtyard an hour later, the lobby and bar were both buzzing with press who’d clearly heard the news and were waiting for updates. Under other circumstances I might have wanted to revel in the moment, but I had a big post to churn out, and I wasn’t in the mood. Besides, now that I had my phone in hand, I could see that I still hadn’t heard from Beau. And it was making me nuts.
As soon as I was in my room I ordered food to pick up later from the café, updated Dodson via email, and dashed off my post. Due to mental fatigue, it was hardly my finest hour prosewise, but considering the news I was sharing, it didn’t matter much. Within minutes Dodson shot me an email congratulating me on my efforts.
A little while later, having picked up my meal, I sat at the desk, my mind churning. Once Alice had the list of names from the veterans’ office, she must have searched to see if one of them surfaced anyplace else. I popped open my laptop and began scrolling one more time through every article thePost Starhad run about the campers. And then there it was, buried deep in a follow-up story aboutthe disappearance: a quote from a guy named Dirk Hagen. Somehow Alice’s colleague Luke Orsini had learned that Hagen, a resident of Fort Ann, had been in Muller’s the night Page and Amy vanished and had cornered him for a quote.
“Those girls? They left around seven, I’d say,” were Hagen’s words. Alice must have realized that Hagen had been involved in the murders and had shared his story with Cody Blaine.
I immediately called Killian, alerting him to my discovery. He explained that they’d figured this out, too, having found Dirk on the list of veterans from Fort Ann. He also shared that a search of Cody’s car had turned up a voice adapter.
So itwasthe killer who’d called me.
I thanked him and said good night. Bone-tired, but still reeling, I flopped down on the bed, phone in hand, and stared at the dull white ceiling. Cody had been captured, the police were looking for Sean-whatever-the-monster’s-name-was, the pieces of truth were all coming together, and yet I still felt heavy with residual dread. If Blaine had caught up to me at Baker or arrived at the tennis and swim club before Coulter had, he would have killed me. With a gun. Or even his bare hands, as he’d done to Shannon and Alice.
