“What about her?” Brittlynn spat back. “I already told you everything I know!”
“Do you know what happened to her?” Johnson asked, as Brittlynn squirmed in her chair. “Does Chad?”
“Jesus, no,” she said angrily. “He never said anything else but that he saw her on the stairs that night. And then running. And, believe me, I asked him about her. Just about every time we fought.”
“Why?” Johnson asked. “Was he still in love with her?”
“No! God, no!” Brittlynn spat vehemently and her lips pulled into a knot of consternation. “Are we done here?” She glanced at the lawyer. “I don’t have anything else to say. I think we’re done.” And she scooted back her chair so fast its legs scraped loudly against the floor.
Cooke agreed. “I think you’ve got all you need.”
“One more thing,” Thomas said. “Do you have any idea where Chad is?”
On her feet, she shook her head. “No. I mean, he kept saying something about we should leave and visit his cousin in Montana. Kind of random, because he never talked about this guy. Not ever. But about a week ago, Chad was like, ‘Hey, let’s go visit Wilson.’ Or, ‘You would really like Montana, Britt, we should visit Wilson.’ Or, he even said once, ‘I think we should go hang out with Wilson, maybe for a month or so. Get away.’ And I’m like, ‘Uh, no. We have jobs.’ And besides he’d never once in all the time I was with him wanted to visit Wilson. The guy was a jerk. Used to beat up on Chad as a kid, but out of the blue, Chad has a bug up his butt about Billings, Montana.”
“And the name of the cousin is Wilson?”
“Yeah, um, Wilson’s his first name. Wilson Atwater.”
Johnson was already picking up her iPad.
“Now, I’m leaving,” Britt said. “I don’t know anything else.”
“We might have more questions later,” Thomas said.
“Well, I’m all out of answers. All out.” To the lawyer, “Let’s go.” And she was out the door while Robert Cooke was quickly gathering his papers and tablet into a briefcase.
Thomas walked them out of the building and then found Johnson at her desk. “I’ve located a Wilson Atwater in Billings, Montana. I called. No answer. So I let the local authorities know. They’re supposed to call me back.”
“So you believe Brittlynn’s story?”
Johnson sighed. “It’s been twenty years, a lot of time for memories to blur and mingle with emotions. I think there’s a lot of truth in her story, but she could have twisted it in her mind to satisfy whatever psychological needs she had. For God’s sake, she was fourteen. Fourteen—think what you were like at that age? I was a head case. Didn’t know up from sideways but thought I knew it all. And her story is colored by how she perceived it. But yeah, I think she believes she’s telling the truth, but who knows? Once we run down Chad Atwater, we might get somewhere.” She sat in her chair. “Then again, we maybe back to square one.”
*
Jonas clutched the knife as he trudged through the snow.
He liked the heft of it, the way his fingers felt as they grasped the blade’s handle.
It all felt so right.
Gave him so much power, so much protection.
To grip a weapon again.
He’d ditched Mia’s rattle trap of a car half a mile away, hidden at a mountain cabin that seemed abandoned. It would do. For now. He wouldn’t need to hide it for long.
Be cool, an inner voice warned. Don’t do anything rash. You don’t want to go back to Banhoff!
Twenty years of being locked up was enough, he reminded himself as he trudged, breaking a path in the snow. Ducking under low-hanging branches of the firs and cedars, he felt the cold slap of the wind against his face. It ruffled his hair, freezing the tops of his ears.
It felt good.
It felt like freedom.
And he didn’t want to lose that.
Even the ache in his ribs was worth it.
He stopped long enough to send up a quick prayer. He had turned to God at Banhoff. The chaplain had convinced him to look inside himself and find the good, give himself up to the Lord, and he had. He believed. He really did. He also knew that he was put on this earth by God to do what was right. His fans, they’d eaten that up, so he’d played to it.
What he hadn’t admitted was that sometimes he needed to be an avenging angel. To right old wrongs.
And so he plowed on, through the snow, numb to the cold, on angel wings.