Page 59 of Nowhere Good

Maddox didn’t seem concerned. “I’m sure you can guess why I’m here.”

“The tapes?” Seth answered. He didn’t want to think about them, but he had to.

With a nod, Maddox gave Wells the floor.

“I called the FBI last night,” Wells explained. “I figured this was something bigger than Fairview, but imagine my surprise when Special Agent Maddox contacted me and told me the description of the Ellen Harrison case matched a serial rapist they’ve been hunting for years.”

Seth had only glanced at a few of the tapes, but if each one had a unique victim, then Norman Stanfield must have assaulted at least twenty women. His skin crawled, worms wriggling beneath. Sick fucker.

“Seven years, in fact,” Maddox said. “I’ve been working on this case since I was a rookie. We picked up on reports of very similar rapes in small towns around the border of Illinois and Iowa. Women reported being kidnapped and taken to a second location, sometimes hours away. Admittedly, we should’ve looked harder at Missouri too, but Ellen Harrison’s case slipped by us.” Maddox shifted her weight. “I’m not sure what prompted Stanfield to risk attacking a woman from his own hometown, but it was obviously a mistake he never made again. We think she might have been his first. This is the kind of evidence you can only dream of finding. Really, really good work, Detective.”

The praise made him uncomfortable, especially after how hard he’d spiraled last night. “It was luck, mostly. Chief Wells got me into the house and told me about the basement. Stanfield reacted badly—gave us reasons to arrest him. Made it easy to get warrants before he could destroy the evidence.”

“Like I said, good work. We are about to get justice for a lot of women.”

He exchanged a look with Wells. She remained quiet, clasping her hands on her desk. This wouldn’t be an easy blow for her to recover from, both personally and professionally.

“Anyway, as for Stanfield’s connection to your homicide case,” Maddox went on, “we’ll be taking him into federal custody. We’ve identified several victims we already knew about. One thing I’ll say is, they’re all still alive. It can’t be ruled out until we establish an alibi for the nights of your murders, but… killing doesn’t seem to be this guy’s MO. He likes leaving his victims with the memories of what he’s done to them.”

“There were a lot of things about Stanfield that didn’t line up,” Seth said. “Still, I’m glad we looked into him.”

“I’m glad you did too. Trust me, he’ll never see the light of day again.”

It was hard to relish in the glow of justice when a headache threatened to split his skull in two. But this was the best outcome. Stanfield would rot. And Seth could refocus on the man who actually killed Eliza Johnson and Kelsey Campbell.

Whoever he might be, he thought grimly. Stanfield had been his strongest lead yet, and now he was back to nothing.

Maddox stood up, so Seth did too, shaking her hand once more. “I’ll need to collect official statements from both of you before we can take Stanfield, so I’ll go get the paperwork in order.”

She shook hands with Wells before leaving the office. Seth stayed behind. Once they were alone, Wells’s fingers found her necklace again.

“You all right?” he asked.

She snapped to him, dazed. “I will be. It’s a lot to sit with. My own friend, my own town… hard not to feel like I let this happen.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I appreciate that, Detective, but you and I both know that’s not true. It makes me wonder what else I’ve turned a blind eye to over the years. Once this thing with this damn killer is solved, I’ll be stepping down as chief. It’s high time I took that retirement.”

Cheering people up wasn’t his specialty, and besides, if he were in her position, he’d blame himself too. It made him think about last night again, when he’d told Claire about his mom, about the guilt he carried over her death. If he had known then what he knew now, he could’ve sniffed it out. He could’ve warned her.

The thought was illogical, but that didn’t stop it from feeling real.

It reminded him about another part of last night, the reason Claire went to his room in the first place. They hadn’t just talked about his mother—they’d talked about hers too. She’d wanted to tell him something. Which meant she must have found something out.

So when he left Chief Wells’s office, he opened his text messages with Claire again.

You wanted to tell me something about your mom, right? What was it?

She read it. But this time, she didn’t reply.

The Dyer farm was massive—two barns, a stable, a cornfield that stretched deep into the horizon, still leaving room for the two-story farmhouse at the front, equipped with clapboard siding and a wrap-around porch made of natural wood.

So, this was where Claire had grown up. It couldn’t be more different from Seth’s tiny apartment in Brooklyn.

He’d passed off enough weird things since he first got the call on the tip line. Claire hadn’t answered him yet, but he didn’t want to wait anymore.

That brought him here.