“Do you know a man named Daniel Mills?” Bess asked.
Scott sighed. He’d been pacing the room, but it was as if he was suddenly too tired to keep it up and he sank down into the chair opposite Bess. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Daniel the Baptist,” he said.
“It’s him, Scott. I know it is. He killed those women and he’s got Amy.”
“Slow down. Now I’ll admit, we looked at Mills way back when Margot Cooper disappeared, but it didn’t work out. The math didn’t work.”
“But maybe your math was flawed.”
“You’re talking about the time of death and all that? God, you are deep in the conspiracy theories.”
“They’re my life,” Bess said.
“It’s true, there could be some issues with our timeline. But what about all the other women? Do you know all those timelines? Does he fit all of them? You’ve been on this case for a couple weeks. There’s no way you have all the details worked out.”
“I don’t. But Tam Gillis did.”
“And of course you’ve been talking to Tam.”
“Scott, I have something to show you. But if I do, I want you to promise me you won’t use it in court or anything like that.”
“I absolutely cannot make that promise.”
They looked at each other, neither willing to budge.
“You want me to trust you,” said Bess. “Well, I need you to trust me too. Fuck. Okay. I can compromise. Come to my house. Let me show you the proof about Daniel Mills and then, if you don’t believe me, you forget what I said and move along.”
“That’s exactly what you want. It’s in no way a compromise,” he said, but he was smiling, and Bess knew she had him.
“You owe me this.”
“How? You know what, forget it. Fine. The fact is, if you have evidence, I need to see it. Show me what you’ve got and we’ll go from there.”
Scott Howland sat on Bess’s couch waiting impatiently as she dug through Tam’s notes for the specifics on Daniel Mills.
“Just show me everything,” he called to her.
“I’ll only be a minute,” she called back. She had no intention of letting Scott see the stalker notebooks, only the ones specifically pertaining to Mills and his whereabouts and connections to the victims.
She came into the room with an armload of notes and two beers resting gently on the top of the stack. “I know it’s not professional,” she said. “And shit, I guess I don’t even know if you drink, but I thought…”
“I’d love a beer. I feel like I’ve earned it at this point. We’ll consider this some off-duty research.” He stood up, took the drinks from the top of the stack and opened them.
“Off duty is exactly what I’m looking for.” Bess pulled the notebook labeled “Daniel Mills” from the pile and opened it. “Okay, so the stuff about Margot you mostly know,” she said, pointing to the timelines neatly detailed on the first few pages. “He could have easily kidnapped her and left the head if you look at the longest possible timeframe.”
“Sure, I’ll give you that one. And he knew her. They were members of the same church. There was some… infatuation on his part, right?” he asked.
“Right.”
“So, what’s the connection to Ashley Bunkirk? Tell me how this works.”
“Ashley worked at the movie theater. Daniel Mills goes to that theater almost every week. He would have had to have seen her there.”
“I go to the movies too, am I a suspect?”
“Don’t be an asshole. He also has no alibi for the times when she disappeared and when her head was found. And maybe you think that’s a coincidence. But what if I said she was at Mills’s Bible study group the week before she disappeared?”
“That’s a little more. What about the others?”
“I’ll save you the suspense and tell you he has no alibi for any of the victims,” Bess said. “He knew them all. They didn’t all go to Bible study. That would be too easy. And he’s too smart to get all his victims from his own class. Too suspicious.”
“Sure, that makes sense.” Scott nodded.
“He works at Lowe’s in lawn and garden. Olivia Terry was in the middle of building a deck when she disappeared. Bethany Ladd was the office manager at STL Construction, they bought most of their raw materials from Lowe’s and Bethany managed every purchase order and pickup.” Bess paused long enough to have a few swallows of beer. The more she talked, the more excited she became. She’d done the right thing, bringing Scott here. There was no way he’d be able to deny all of these as coincidences. “Emily and Brandy are a little more random. He and Brandy both ate lunch at the café pretty regularly, which I know doesn’t sound like much. Emily, I’m not sure he knew at all. But her disappearance is what stands out. She was a jogger and she’d apparently gone for a run by the river. That’s what her boyfriend said. And Daniel lives by the river.”
Scott was quiet for a few minutes. He squinted at the notebook in front of him. “Bess, I can’t help but think if we picked anyone in town at random, we’d be able to make similar connections. They’re not enough for a search warrant, let alone an arrest.”
Bess’s heart fell. She’d been so certain he’d want to help. She drank to mask her frustration. “Well, I’m happy you could come by. You can go ahead and leave.”
“God damn, Bess. Don’t be that way. I’m here to help you.”
She rolled her eyes and went for another beer.
“I am, I promise. But I have to work within the law. You have to understand, without more I can’t do anything as a detective.”
“What good are detectives?” she cried. “Fuck, do you even detect? Have you tried even some minor sleuth work?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Try! I met this guy and I can tell you he isn’t right. Not at all. Interview some people. At least talk to the guy, can’t you do that? Talk?”
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Okay, I can talk to him. Will that make you happy?”
“It’s a start.”
“And what about Greg Leeds? How’s he connected to this?”
“There’s another notebook on Greg.” Bess flipped through the stack of notes on her coffee table and brought out the journal with Greg’s information in it.
Howland took the book and turned it over in his hand. “This one’s fancy.”
“Yeah, I noticed that,” Bess said.
“Even the handwriting is different.”
“Maybe Winnie Tate made that one,” Bess suggested, forgetting momentarily that she was supposed to be keeping her source a secret.
He shook his head and thumbed through the book. “There aren’t any correlations here. No connections between this one and the other notes, not with the victims or Daniel Mills.”
“I don’t know, maybe they decided he wasn’t a suspect. All I know is, something about Greg doesn’t make sense. He’s erratic. He… he knows something. I don’t know what.”
“So we’ll keep looking for Greg and I’ll bring in Mills for questioning. Can I keep the journal?” Scott asked.
“Of course, take all of it.” Bess pointed to the notes.
“Thanks, just the Greg Leeds book for now.”
“Thank you, Scott.” She felt so much relief welling up inside her that she thought she might burst. She reached out her hand and placed it over his. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”
He smiled. “Do you mind if I grab another drink?”