Page 10 of Into the Veins

“Don’t judge me.” She kept her attention forward.

Faint footsteps reached his ears a moment before the deadbolt unlatched and the front door swung inward. The woman’s smile faltered as recognition neutralized her soft features. Long dark brown hair frizzed at the crown of Evyn Garder’s head and highlighted the flawlessness of her skin. Gray eyes, the color of Washington winters, bounced between him and Blair. The woman’s oversized button-down shirt and loose black slacks hid her petite form, but Colson knew their suspect to be in shape, even fit, considering her social media accounts showed her frequent hikes around Rattlesnake Mountain. “Sheriff Sanders, I wasn’t aware you’d be visiting today.”

“Some new evidence has been found concerning the remains you came across yesterday morning. This is my associate, Colson Rutherford. We have a handful of questions for you if you don’t mind.” Blair pulled her notebook from her sheriff’s jacket pocket. “Won’t take more than a few minutes.”

Evyn sidestepped clear of the door and motioned them inside. A hit of pumpkin spice dove deep into his lungs as he and the sheriff stepped over the threshold. Closing the door behind them, the woman who’d undeniably compromised Rachel Faulkner’s remains maneuvered into an open concept two-story living room. Iron bannisters, white sofas, and geometric patterns reflected the modern taste of the owner. Evyn directed them to sit as she took one of the wingback chairs in the corner of the room. “I already told your deputies everything I know at the scene. I’m not sure how much more help I can be.”

“Do you live here alone, Ms. Garder?’ Blair asked.

He noted the slight tightening of Evyn’s shoulders as she smoothed her expression for the second time in as many minutes. Actions spoke louder than words, and right now the suspect’s actions were screaming.

“What does that have to do with the body I found yesterday?’ Evyn asked.

“It doesn’t. You seemed a bit tense when you realized we were at the door. Sometimes witnesses are more relaxed around me if I make an effort to get to know them a little. That’s all.” Blair leaned forward in her chair, her elbows set on top of her knees.

Understanding softened Evyn Garder’s posture, but suspicion still swirled in her gaze as she glanced at Colson. “Oh. Then, no. My older sister and I own this house together. We moved here about a year ago. It’s just the two of us now that our parents have passed. She’s travelling on business right now. Some kind of conference.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I lost my parents, too.” The sheriff was trying to relate, trying to get the suspect to trust her. Hell of a risk, one that came with an even greater reward if the suspect slipped. “I promised not to take more than a few minutes of your time, so I’ll get right to it. Can you tell me about your relationship with Rachel Faulkner?”

Confusion contorted Evyn’s expression. Seconds passed as the weight of the question solidified between them. “I don’t know what you mean. I know who she is, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m familiar with her work, but we don’t have a relationship.”

“So when you called police yesterday morning after discovering the body on the trail, you didn’t recognize the victim?” Blair asked.

“No. To be honest, I didn’t get a good look at her face.” Evyn sank back into the sofa, all that long hair static clinging to her open collar and the couch. She crossed her legs, one over the other. “I had… I had no idea. I follow her on social media, but that’s it.”

“Did you touch the remains before or after you called 9-1-1?” Colson asked. Blair’s warning glance weighed on his chest at his intrusion into the interrogation, but the small changes in the suspect’s body language spoke volumes.

“What? No. Why would I?” Full lips, coated in a natural-toned pink gloss, struggled to counter Evyn’s dry tone.

“The medical examiner can prove you moved the body, Evyn.” Blair unpocketed her phone and swiped through the photos Dr. Moss had sent a few hours prior to their visit. Turning the screen toward the witness, she forced the suspect to confront the truth. Another tactic used to break the most veteran killers. “There were traces of your DNA on the victim’s throat, where someone might test for a pulse to see if she was still alive. There was also fresh mud on the soles of Rachel’s boots that matched the drag marks coming from a grouping of bushes off the trail. The killer wouldn’t have wanted the victim to be found immediately. They’d want time to dispose of the body then put some distance between them and the dump site, but there’s a certain type of killer who wants to be recognized for their work. We believe that’s why Rachel Faulkner was disposed of in one location, then repositioned in clear sight for any hikers who came through that section of trail.”

Colson interlaced his fingers in front of him. “In case it isn’t clear, she’s saying the evidence proves you were the one who moved the body.”

“I…I didn’t kill her.” Color drained from Evyn’s face and neck. Her bottom lip parted as though to deny the physical evidence, but science didn’t bend to the whims of killers. She leveraged her palms into the chair on either side of her, staring down into her lap as she leaned forward slightly. A wildness darkened the suspect’s gaze. Her voice hitched. “Okay. You’re right. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I found the body. I could tell she was dead, but I still tested for a pulse. I’ve never seen a dead body before. I work with animals. Not people. As soon as I confirmed I couldn’t help her, I called 9-1-1, but I thought if I moved the body closer to the trailhead, it would be easier for police to find her.”

“What about the threatening messages between you and Rachel Faulkner leading up to the day of her disappearance?” Blair motioned to Colson, and he handed over the file he’d put together before they’d left the house. “Dozens of them detailing how you were going to destroy her and her business. The last one is particularly interesting to me. You threatened to kill her two days before she disappears.”

Evyn scanned through page after page of evidence. Her shoulders collapsed away from her ears, and suddenly she seemed so much smaller than she had when she’d answered the door. The pieces were starting to fit together. She couldn’t deny not knowing the victim, couldn’t deny moving the body, couldn’t deny she had the means, motive, and opportunity to want the victim dead. “These are private messages.” She raised her frantic gaze to Colson. “How did you get these? I deleted them. You didn’t have my permission or a warrant to search my accounts.”

“These came from a secret account Rachel Faulkner hid from her family. Funny thing about social media is once you post it, it stays forever. There’s no such thing as a secret on the internet.” Colson rose to his feet, searching everything in plain sight, searching for anything that would tie Evyn Garder to poisoning. Syringes, needles, unfamiliar plants. Strychnos nux-vomica, the tree from which strychnine was derived, had primarily been found in Southeast Asia and Australia, but there were other sources Evyn could’ve used to create a dose large enough to inject their victim. “Rachel’s husband had filed for divorce to get her to realize how much her phone use was hurting her family, but the victim did what all addicts tend to do. She found a better way to hide her addiction. She created a new account, one she never linked with her business profiles. My question is, how did you know to reach her through that handle?”

Defeat contorted Evyn’s expression. “You don’t understand. All of this—it’s not what you think. I was angry, yes, but not enough to kill her. Those were just words.” She closed her eyes as though reaching for some sense of control then focused on the pages of private messages in her lap. “Rachel and I were friends. My sister, Ember, and I have been following her for years. We were at every book signing, every keynote, to support her. We chatted together in the comments of her posts. We shared recipes, and book recommendations. My ex and I even attended her marriage conference a few months ago, but when I learned about the divorce… I felt cheated. I spent three thousand dollars on tickets for that conference. My fiancé and I were having some problems with communication, and it made sense to take advice from someone who’d managed to stay married for fourteen years.” Evyn handed back the file. “Rachel was up on that stage laying out exactly how to have a successful marriage, to communicate, and get everything you need from your partner, and I ate it all up. Only it wasn’t real. They weren’t happy. It was all a production to them, a way to prey on women in bad relationships to make money.”

“You said you attended the conference with your ex. I take it things didn’t work out between the two of you as you’d hoped.” Blair pegged the suspect with that bright, perceptive gaze. “Was that why you were angry with Rachel? You went to that conference to shore up your relationship, but her advice didn’t work. Your fiancé ended things between you, and that’s when you started threatening the victim.”

“That’s not what happened. Okay? My ex had nothing to do with those messages.” Evyn shook her head. “I just wanted my money back. Three thousand dollars was everything I had in my savings, and to find out I’d handed it over to a scam artist… I thought we were friends. I’d supported Rachel throughout her entire career, and she made millions of dollars from conference attendees, book releases, podcast sponsors. I asked her for a refund, but she wouldn’t even consider it. That’s why I sent those messages. I lashed out. I know it was wrong, but I wouldn’t have killed her over money.”

“How did you find out about the divorce?” Blair asked. “Neither the victim nor her husband had made the filing public.”

“It’s like he said.” Evyn motioned to Colson. “There are no secrets on the internet. Especially when it comes to posted photos showing Braydon Caddel coming out of a well-known divorce attorney’s office. And I have an alert set on my browser to ping me when Rachel Faulkner’s name is mentioned in articles, blogs, interviews. Things like that.”

“Ms. Garder, I’m sure you’re familiar with Trimeresurus rubeus in your work as a zoologist,” Colson said.

“Ruby-eyed green pit vipers. I wrote my graduate thesis on venomics and cellular toxicity at Cornell. They were my main subjects.” The suspect folded her arms across her chest, a new line of tension running along her collarbone and jaw. “Why?”

“You must’ve recognized the six vipers that’d been left with Rachel’s remains.” He maneuvered around the room, took in the photos of two smiling women—sisters— on the mantel above the fireplace. Similar features, same color of gray eyes and dark brown hair. “Over the years, serpents have carried a connotation of deceitfulness. Whoever killed Rachel Faulkner two nights ago was sending a message, maybe an attempt to expose her for the fraud she was. Only problem is, the ruby-eyed pit viper isn’t found here in the Northwest. They hail from Southeast Asia, same as the poison used to kill the victim. For a zoologist, such as yourself, I imagine it wouldn’t be that difficult to get your hands on half a dozen if you put your mind to it.”

“Wait,” Evyn said. “You’re saying Rachel was poisoned?”

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