“He’ll be formally arraigned tomorrow.”
“I guess you never really know about people, huh?”
“Sometimes.”
He pushes his cap up. “Can I help you with something?”
“I’m following up on some information I received from the coroner’s office,” I tell him, keeping the purpose of my visit vague. “I’d like to take another look at Aden’s bedroom if that’s all right with you.”
“What are you looking for?”
“There was a box,” I say. “In his closet. It’ll just take me a minute.”
“Uh…” He looks down at the cat, uses two fingers to rub the back of its neck.
When he makes no move to invite me inside, I add, “I can come back with a warrant if you prefer,” I say. “No problem.”
“No sense in you going to all that trouble. I ain’t even been back there. I guess I’ve been putting off packing up his stuff for his mamm and datt.” Holding the cat in one arm, he pushes the door open and goes inside. “Come on in. Take whatever you need. I’ll just stay out of your way.”
I follow him into the living room. The TV is tuned to a 1990s sitcom. A fast-food burger and fries sit atop an old-fashioned TV tray. “Sorry to interrupt your dinner,” I tell him as I start toward the hall. “I won’t be long.”
“No problem.” He stops in the middle of the living room. “Chief Burkholder?”
I turn to him and raise my brows.
“I just wanted to say…” He fumbles the words and, looking ungainly, shoves his hands into his pockets. “I knew Vernon was an asshole, but I never … I never thought he was capable of killing anyone.”
I stare at him a moment, taking in the awkwardness, the lack of eye contact and I nod. “I think a lot of people were surprised. That’s how it goes sometimes.”
He looks at the TV and doesn’t say anything else, so I continue down the hall, my mind already on the box in the closet. Wondering how I’m going to reach the top shelf. In the back of my mind, I’m pondering whether it’s even worth confiscating at this point.
I push open the door to Karn’s bedroom. The lighting is dim, so I flick the light switch, but it doesn’t come on. I go to the window, open the curtain. A glance outside tells me Mona hasn’t yet arrived. Vaguely, I’m aware of the TV in the living room. The laugh track and voices. I cross to the closet, open the door. There’s no stool or chair to step on, so I lift a wire hanger from the rod, bend it, and use it to slide the box toward me.
“Come on,” I mutter beneath my breath.
The box comes into view. I’m reaching for it when the scuff of a shoe against the floor spins me around. I catch a glimpse of Graber. Lips peeled back. Teeth exposed and clenched. Fist drawn back. I raise my hands, duck right, but I’m not fast enough. His fist plows into my nose. I fly backward, hit the wall, land on my butt.
I twist, reach for my .38, thumb off the strap. Before I can yank the gun from its holster, a second blow lands at the crown of my head. A pile driver pounding a post home. Stars scatter in front of my eyes. Graber lunges at me. I’m on the floor, my back against the wall. A split second to react. I bring up both legs, slam my feet against his knees, try to hyperextend them.
He roars a curse, stumbles back. I draw the .38, bring it up. My position is awkward; my elbow hits the wall, skewing my aim. “Stop!” I shout. “Police! Stop!”
Finger inside the guard. I squeeze off a shot just as he kicks the .38. A bullet tears a hole in the ceiling, but I manage to hold on to my weapon. I scramble right, try to get into a better position, line up for another shot.
“Stop!” I scream.
The blow comes out of nowhere, a train ramming my forehead. My head snaps back. My vision narrows and dims. Hazily, I’m aware of Graber kicking the gun from my hand. I hear it clatter to the floor. Leaning down to me, he rips the radio mike from my lapel, flings it aside.
“Why the fuck did you come back?” he bellows. “Why couldn’t you just stay the hell away? Karn is dead. You got Fisher. Why?”
I blink, try to clear my head.
He’s agitated. Looking out the window. Panic branded into his features. Not sure what to do next. For the first time I notice the shoulder sling, and the crossbow at his side. Deadly and complex looking. A tidal wave of fear washes over me.
“You weren’t supposed to come back!” he screams. “We were done! Fuck!”
My vision clears. I stare at him, taking physical inventory. I’m dazed, but not injured. I don’t let my gaze slide toward the bed, but I know my .38 is beneath it. In the periphery of my vision, I spot my radio on the floor a few feet away.
“Wayne, you’re not a suspect,” I say. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“This is your fault,” he snarls. “What the hell am I supposed to do with you now?”
“Just walk away,” I say. “There’s still time to fix this.”
“Shut up!” Spittle flies from his mouth. “I need to think!”
My mind clicks back into place. I look at him, try to put myself in his shoes. “I know what Karn was,” I say.
I see the words impact him. Like an invisible fist, punching him hard enough to stun. “What did you say?”
“I know he was a sexual predator. I know what he did.”
He looks at me, blinking, not quite trusting his eyes, his ears. “Everyone thought he was a saint,” he says. “All that boy-next-door charm. Mr. Fucking Perfect. They had no idea what he turned into when he took off the mask.”
My eyes have adjusted to the thin light. I can just make out the outline of my pistol beneath the bed. I’m not sure I can reach it from this side. Graber stands between me and the radio.
“I know he hurt people,” I say quietly.
“Hurt them?” A horrible laugh pours from his throat. “He didn’t just hurt them. He…” His voice breaks. “The guy was a monster. There was something wrong with him. Some part of his brain was just … gone.”
Keep him talking, Kate. Buy some time. Mona is on the way.
“Tell me what he did,” I say.
“He’d go on the prowl. Pick up a woman in a bar. Or some dumbshit kid who wanted to party. He’d take them out to the gas station. Get them drunk or high or both, and when they were passed out, he … Made me sick.” He spits the words out as if they’re razor blades. “Did Emily that way. Sweet, innocent Em. Can you believe that?”
“You were there?” I ask.
“I took her home that first night. She was … in an awful way.” He chokes back a sob, swipes at tears. “They all climbed on her at the same time.”
“Who else?”
“The sons of bitches at the gas station. It was a game to them. Find a woman. Pump her full of booze. Then they’d take turns with her. They were a bunch of animals.”
“What about Paige Rossberger?” I ask.
Graber’s expression darkens. “Karn had had her out there before. Gave her a hundred bucks. For sex. She trusted him, I guess.” His mouth twists. “She liked to party. So he took her out there. Got her high. Everyone … did her. After they left…” His voice trails and for a moment he looks as if he might throw up. “She was just … lying there, passed out on that old cot, and Karn went over to her and started messing with her. She came to, cussed him out, pissed him off, so he gets this … plastic bag and he … puts it over her head She hit him, kicked him, so he fucking tied her up, and he kept putting that bag over her head. Playing with her. By then she was … going nuts. Scared, you know. So he put tape on her mouth.”