After settling on a booth near the corner, they were served by a waitress with an updo topped by an elf hat. The place was nearly empty but smelled of french fries and grilled onions. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, the noon crowd having dribbled to just a few patrons at tables decorated with sprigs of holly in small vases tucked near the condiments and napkin holders.
Once they were served and Thomas had taken a couple of bites of his cheeseburger, Johnson said, “Let’s talk this over. One more time.” She didn’t have to explain what she meant, the recent murders had been the topic of conversation all over the state. But Johnson was laying it out. “Jonas killed Donner Robinson and was caught in the act by Donner’s father, Walter.” She took a bite from her vegetarian sandwich, and after chewing said, “But his daughter, Marlie, who was going to run off with the now-deceased Chad, saw her father—or her father and Jonas squaring off, her brother already dead. She locked her sister in the attic, then tried to intervene while there was a fight for the sword and was sliced.”
“Walter was masked at that point, so we don’t know if she recognized him,” Thomas said.
“Right.”
Johnson paused the Christmas music heard over the crackle of the fryer and rattle of cutlery. “Then Walter went berserk and killed everyone but Kara, who was locked in the attic. The kid gets out of the attic, came downstairs and saw the carnage. Walter was still there and chased her down, but spied Edmund Tate, who’d heard something from his deck and took off after the little girl.” She swallowed another a bite of sandwich, washed it down with vitamin water. “So, at that point Walter peeled off with injured Marlie, while Kara and Edmund end up in the lake.”
“But Edmund recognized Walter and tried to tell the EMTs. Meanwhile Walter gets away and keeps his daughter captive in Seaside.”
“That’s the weird part.”
“Oh, come on, it’s all weird,” Thomas said. Even sitting here in a diner talking about multiple homicides while Christmas music played from the speakers of a retro diner was a little on the outré side.
“Beyond weird.”
Thomas nodded. From what they could piece together, Marlie had somehow gotten hold of one of her father’s burner cells and found Kara’s information on Walter’s computer. She’d made the calls and texts to Kara.
Johnson said, “Okay, I follow all that, but what I don’t get is why Marlie didn’t just leave?”
“She couldn’t at first, too injured. Walter stitched her up.”
“Because he’d been a medic in the military, yeah, I know.”
“But he was no plastic surgeon so she was disfigured, and he also probably convinced her if she ever did leave, she’d be implicated in the murders. Remember, she was totally dependent upon him, had nowhere to turn, or so she thought.”
“He brainwashed her.” She said it with a grimace. “Sick piece of shit.”
“And days became weeks, became months.”
“Became two damned decades.” She was shaking her head, thinking it over.
“She thought she’d lost everyone. Her mother had been slaughtered, as had her brother, even her stepdad. Jonas was in jail, her other stepbrother killed, and Kara was just a kid.”
“Her aunt?” she asked, and the music changed to a country music rendition of “What Child Is This?”
“Faiza. Who bled the estate dry.”
“She probably didn’t know that,” Johnson said as the elf/waitress swept past them to another booth where three teenaged girls had settled in. They were talking over each other while still paying attention to their phones.
“Remember, Walter’s her father, he healed her, if she went to anyone, including the police, he would end up in jail and she’d be all alone.”
“With scars inside and out.”
“Right.” He took a long swallow from his Coke.
“But she kept up with Jonas’s release when she went online as Hailey Brown. She could hide in the shadows. And that’s probably what spurred her on, that he was getting out, and she was afraid he would seek revenge against Kara for her testimony.”
“So she stole his phone and somehow escaped.”
“After he left to deal with Jonas?” she asked as the teenagers ordered from the waitress.
“Yeah, and a set of keys were on her so she must’ve stolen those from her father as well.” Thomas chewed slowly. He’d already considered all the alternatives. “Maybe by this time Walter trusted her. After all, it had been twenty years.”