Ezra.
That didn’t make sense. Boone’s brother was strong enough to kill with his bare hands. But John had been around him enough to know that he had the simple mind of a child. True, he’d been raised as a hunter, and might shoot a dog, especially if someone told him to. But the idea that he would come on to a woman and bash her head in when she resisted didn’t fit the picture.
Tired, sore, and just wanting to go home, he hesitated. Maybe he should leave well enough alone. But no, he knew what he had to do. With a weary sigh, he climbed out of the Jeep, and went into the station. Pete and Reuben would be in the garage, unloading the van and getting ready to go off duty. Ted would be headed for the airport and his flight back to Juneau with Daisy and the remains. But Sergeant Packard was still in his office. He looked up when John tapped on the open door.
“Come in and sit down,” he said, pushing aside some papers on his desk. “I hear you hit pay dirt.”
“We did, so to speak.” John took the chair that faced the desk. “But I wanted to bring up something else. Did Traverton call you about Ezra Swenson?”
“He did. Evidently Boone named Ezra as the woman’s killer. Besides that, Pete just told me that Ezra showed up at the crime scene, tried to shoot the dog, and ran off. It looks like we’ve got our man.”
“That’s why I’m here,” John said. “I know how it looks. But I also know the family. They were my in-laws back in the day. Ezra’s a scary-looking man. But he’s mentally handicapped. And he’s shy, especially around women. I can’t imagine him killing one, not even if somebody like Boone told him to. Something here doesn’t feel right.”
Packard leaned back in his chair. “I appreciate your telling me this, but it’s too late to make much difference. I got Traverton’s call around eleven-thirty. By noon I’d located the homestead and sent a SWAT team out there to pick Ezra up. There was nobody home when the team arrived, but they were waiting when Ezra and his mother drove up in the truck. He surrendered without a fight. He’s being booked into the county jail as we speak.”
“And Boone? What about him?”
Packard shrugged. “As the only witness, he’ll need to be questioned. But so far, he hasn’t turned up.”
“You know this case won’t likely go before a jury,” John said. “Innocent or guilty, Ezra won’t be found competent to stand trial.”
“Maybe not,” Packard said. “But our job isn’t to prosecute the bastards. Our job is just to catch them.”
* * *
Dog tired, John drove back to the cabin. By the time he’d showered and downed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with milk, he was ready for a good book and an early bedtime. But he remembered the strain in Emma’s voice, and he knew she needed him. He needed her, too. He needed to hold her close and forget the things he’d seen, touched, and smelled today. And he needed to know that, for now at least, she was safe.
Leaving his damp hair loose, he dressed, closed the cabin, and drove back to town. From the docks, he could see her through the front window, finishing the nightly cleanup. If Boone were out here, there’d be nothing to stop him from shooting her, he thought. But that wasn’t what Boone wanted. He wanted to have her, to possess her, to make her suffer in ways too awful to imagine. And now, with Ezra in jail for the murder that Boone had almost certainly committed, he would be bolder than ever.
He watched her a moment longer before he crossed the street. He’d hoped to see David, too, but his son was nowhere in sight. Maybe Marlena had put a stop to his working.
He stepped close to the window and waved. When she saw him, her face lit in a smile that made him glad he’d driven back to town. She was stunning when she smiled. It was hard to believe that he’d thought her ordinary-looking when they’d first met. There was nothing ordinary about the woman.
She unlocked the door to let him in. He held up the spare jacket he’d brought. “I thought you’d like to get out and go for a ride,” he said.
“I’d love that,” she said. “Just let me finish here.”
Pearl came out of the kitchen and gave him a friendly greeting. “If you’re looking for David, he went home early,” she said. “He has a test tomorrow.”
“How’s he doing?” John asked. “Does he seem all right?”
“He’s fine. I think you did him a lot of good.” Pearl glanced toward Emma. “Go on. We’re almost done here. I can finish.”
“Thanks.” She let him slip the jacket around her shoulders and usher her outside. As was getting to be a habit, he looked up and down the street for any sign of Boone. This excess caution was getting tiresome, but it was still necessary—now more than ever.
“Did you switch rooms?” he asked as he helped her into the Jeep.
“Yes. The new one’s nicer, and the workers have promised not to let Boone onto the floor. Such kind men. Now that they know he’s a danger, they’ve become protective of me.”
“Good, but we’ve got a problem.” He started the Jeep and headed south along the highway. “Ezra’s been arrested for the murder of that woman.”
“But isn’t that a good thing? Boone said he killed her.”
“Boone was lying. Ezra’s no murderer. He may look dangerous, but he’s a gentle giant, with the mind of a child. He’s shy around strangers, especially women.”
“Oh, no!” Emma cried. “John, this is terrible! I was the one who called the police and reported him. This is all my fault!”
“It’s not your fault, Emma. Boone played you. He knew that you’d never met Ezra, and that you’d report whatever he told you. Now Ezra’s in jail for his crime, and Boone is pretty much free to come and go as he likes, which makes him all the more dangerous. Until we find a way to trip him up, you’ll need to be very, very careful.”