“I tried calling him today. He said he’d need a victim to touch or something involved with the killer. I had him over, and he touched my wall. He told me nothing about the killer. Instead, he told me SSA Logan Bennett and Agent Stan Leonard would be on their way. Said you’d be here within ten minutes. He said to tell you everything I knew about Robert Evans.”
Leonard immediately pulls out his phone. “What’s his name?” he demands.
“Neil Mullins. He’s clean. He’s not your guy. He’s a true medium, and he helps solve cases that can’t otherwise be solved. But he said he refused to be involved with this one, because the killer is after souls too dark for him to save. He said there are souls begging him to help the killer, and the darker souls were trapped by the lighter ones, being held down. He’s only had that on a very rare occasion.”
Leonard lowers the phone, eyeing Burrows like he’s lost his mind.
“You can check him out. He’s been helping the FBI for a really long time,” Burrows adds.
Leonard walks away, probably going to do just that and find out if this guy has any ties to Delaney Grove or our victims.
We told no one we were coming here, other than our team.
“Why your wall?” I ask Burrows.
He points above my head, and I turn, stepping back to see the red words that have been hiding behind me.
“It started appearing one letter at a time this morning right in front of my eyes,” he says on a shaky whisper.
The time for secrets is over. Tell my story. Save your soul.
“I never wanted to keep Robert Evans’s death details a secret. That was all the sheriff and Doc Barrontine. Not me. Not me,” he says rapidly, his fear, caffeine and nicotine causing his words to rush together.
“What details?” I ask, turning to face him.
“I don’t have any proof. I remember the case. I was doing my residency there. That case derailed my ambitions to be a coroner and turned me into a forensics scientist. Science isn’t politics. It’s organically dirty, not sullied by people. It’s simple math and truth, and all I have to do is deliver the facts. I never wanted to lie, SSA Bennett. I swear to you that’s the truth.”
“He checks out,” Leonard says, sounding confused as he walks back in. “Hell, he’s been in Mexico helping solve a string of murders near the border for the past two months.”
A medium. I’ve worked with them before, and they’re always crooks or attention seekers who do more harm than good by filing away unfounded facts that derail or sidetrack the investigation.
Yet this guy knew us by name? Hell, Elise doesn’t even know Leonard’s first name. He keeps a lid on that, because the name came from his father, and there’s a lot of beef there.
“We’ll look into him more later,” I say, gesturing at the message above us.
Leonard’s breath catches.
Our killer knew we’d come here. He might not have named us, but he knew we’d come today.
He’s watching us.
That’s how he knew Donny and I were being attacked.
That’s how he’s leaving these messages without being seen.
“I know it was the ghost of Evans. I watched that appear just this morning,” Burrows rambles on. “He left these,” he says, picking up a pack of small nails.
I hiss out a breath. “He left these? You’re a forensics scientist! You should know not to touch evidence,” I growl, grabbing a glove and an evidence bag.
He tosses them to the top of the microwave carelessly, scratching nervously at his arms. “Ghosts don’t leave prints,” he says, chewing endlessly on that gum.
“Tell us what you know about Robert Evans,” I say to the fidgeting scientist who is popping yet another piece of nicotine gum into his mouth.
I label the bag, and Leonard snaps a picture of it and the words over the doorway.
“Those are the exact same nails they used on him.”
A piece of the puzzle falls into place. “What?” I ask, confused.