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The First Death (Columbia River, #4)(41)

Author:Kendra Elliot

“Are you suggesting someone is killing again? That you put the wrong man in prison?”

Different emotions flickered across the retired detective’s face. “He belongs in prison. He admitted to kidnapping those kids, and although he claims Malcolm died in an accident, I have my doubts. The mental and physical abuse those two kids suffered at his hands tells me he’s right where he belongs.” Anger and rage clipped his words.

“But maybe he wasn’t responsible for the young women’s deaths.”

“Solid evidence was found on his property to connect him to them. I understand you know Rowan . . . she doesn’t like to talk about her past, but I’m surprised you didn’t do some digging into her background yourself.”

Evan looked down at his coffee. “I only learned of her kidnapping three days ago. I was definitely curious and wanted to read up on it, but I decided to focus my energy on my cases. After learning that her brother had disappeared near where that cache of bones was found, their kidnapping was at the top of my list to familiarize myself with this morning.”

“She’s been searching for him for a long time,” Sam said. “Not the healthiest habit.”

A thought occurred to Evan. “If you were the detective assigned to the case, then you knew Ken Steward.”

“I did! Good man. I knew him quite well. I was crushed to hear of his murder . . . wait . . . what the fuck.” Sam’s tone lifted as an odd expression flitted across his face, and he stared at Evan. “Is it related?”

The air in the office seemed to grow heavy.

“I’m investigating his murder,” Evan stated, trying to make sense of Ken’s murder and the fact that they were discussing a case in which Ken had played an integral part.

Both men were silent for a long moment.

“I can’t connect the dots,” Sam finally said after a long pause. “There’s a thread here . . . but it’s a coincidence?”

“I don’t believe in coincidences when it comes to murder,” Evan said softly.

“I don’t either,” said Sam, shaking his head. “I heard he was shot in his sleep while camping. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“What can that have to do with the three young women that were strangled and dumped recently?”

“I don’t know,” said Evan, writing a note on his pad. “But I’m sure as hell going to dig for a connection. If I find a suspect in one murder, I’ll take a hard look at him for the others, including Ken’s.”

“I miss this sometimes,” said Sam with a wry grin. “I loved putting the puzzle pieces together. It was grueling and frustrating, but damn it felt good when I figured it out.”

“I completely get that.”

“So . . . where were we?” asked Sam. “Rowan told me a smaller skull was found with the others yesterday?”

“Yes,” said Evan. “But we don’t know the sex yet. Why wouldn’t Rowan say anything to me about those murders twenty-five years ago when she learned of the current ones? She has to see the similarities.”

Sam took a deep breath as he pondered. “Well . . . the man who tortured her is in prison. In her mind, he is gone. Out of the picture. Locked away. She feels safe. Her brain might have a wall up that keeps her from looking beyond and questioning how this is happening again.”

“She must suspect the skeletons we found yesterday could be from when he was killing back then. Especially since one could be her brother, but she didn’t say anything about that possibility.” Evan met the detective’s gaze. “The new cases could be the work of an accomplice. Maybe a copycat. Was another man under investigation back then? A friend or a relative of Jerry Chiavo?”

“No,” Sam said firmly. “We had no suspects until—” He stopped and stared out the window. “Until his neighbor reported finding the babysitter’s car on his property five years later.” His gaze swung back to Evan’s. “You’d think Chiavo would turn the tables on his neighbor or anyone else who was an accomplice. Chiavo never made that assertion.”

“I need to look at his associates from back then.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t think you’ll find anything. Jerry Chiavo was prosecuted for murdering three women. If I was in his shoes, I’d be spilling my guts if I knew who really did it. His defense never suggested anyone. I always felt deep inside that Chiavo was the killer.”

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