Page 40 of Silent Ridge

“Thanks, Ronnie. At least we have the DNA on file in case something else turns up.” As I say that I can’t help but feel I’ve jinxed myself. I don’t want anything else to turn up because I don’t want anyone else to die.

“I’ve got something else that I’d like him to run.” I hand her the bag with Nan’s cigarette butt. “It needs to be eliminated from the other things I—you—found out there. If those things belonged to Nan, she won’t have DNA on file, either, but he can tell if that butt matches the other butt. If it does, we can probably pitch all that stuff.”

Ronnie grins mischievously. “So you’ve got Nan’s butt in a bag and you want Marley to look at her butt to compare it to another butt?”

“May the best butt win,” I say, and Ronnie giggles. It isn’t that funny, but it kind of is.

“I checked on Alex Rader,” Ronnie says. “He was a detective with King County Sheriff’s Office. He disappeared a couple of years back. No trace of him.”

I’m surprised. I thought his body would eventually be found. The smell would draw attention. Marie had found him. I wonder what she did with his body. I know they found hers, because they made a big fuss over it, since Alex was a cop. One of theirs.

“His wife, Marie Rader, was found brutally murdered in their home. The detective I talked to said they suspect Alex might have killed her in a rage and fled. No one’s heard from him. They don’t have enough evidence to issue a warrant.”

And they never will. “Were the murders anything like ours?” I ask, knowing they were nothing like ours.

“I told the detective we were working a case where the name Alex Rader was mentioned. It’s not a totally uncommon name. I told him we’d get back to him if we had anything linking our case to their Alex Rader.”

“It’s probably nothing. I’m more interested in finding Michael Rader. Any luck there?”

Ronnie finds a photo on her phone, a face shot of a man, forty to fifty years old, craggy features, dark hair and eyes that look evil. “This guy was a corrections officer.”

All I was able to find out was that Alex Rader had a younger brother, Michael. I only saw a photo of him in a news article.

“He was last at the men’s correctional facility in Monroe,” she says.

“Where is he now?”

“He moved six months ago. I haven’t been able to find out where. I didn’t want to call the prison without talking to you first.”

“How did you find out he moved?”

“I checked utility companies around Monroe,” Ronnie says. “I got an old address but there were no bills for the last six months. I assume he had the utilities turned off.”

Thirty-Eight

Michael Rader is in the wind. To find him I’d need Sheriff Gray’s help. He could call the Snohomish County Sheriff’s Office and check Michael out. The Monroe Correctional Complex is in that county. But to do that Sheriff Gray will want to know why I’m interested. I don’t want to tell him more about my past.

I doubt he would have hired me if he knew everything about me. I knowIwouldn’t. I think that’s because, deep down, I feel like a fraud. Dr. Albright warned me that it would be a lifelong battle and I might never fully believe that I am a good person but that the sins of my past don’t define me.

Maybe I’m wrong about Michael Rader. Maybe the sins ofhispast don’t definehim. I’m sure he killed Kim Mock in prison, but he did it to protect his brother. He threatened Monique Delmont and got all the evidence I had given her against his scumbag brother. The evidence proving Alex was a serial killer. He must have found Marie’s body after I killed her. I don’t know how he could have known about me unless Marie or Alex told him about my mother and about Alex being my father.

“I’ll talk to the sheriff,” I say. “He knows the Snohomish County Sheriff and can get more information than we can.”

“What should I do?”

“Call Mr. Bridges again. The guy from the victims’ advocacy group. See if he can remember anyone in particular that Mrs. Delmont talked about.” I’m hoping he mentions the names Blume and Moriarty. I want to get into those cases and find the dead girls’ parents again. I want to see if they’ve also had hang-up calls. Part of the evidence Michael Rader took from Monique were pictures of their murdered daughters.

Ronnie hurries off and I take a deep breath before knocking on Sheriff Gray’s door.

“Come in,” he says, and I can hear a desk drawer closing.

When I enter, I can smell hamburgers and onions. I’m sure if I look in his drawer there will be a greasy bag full of the stuff. He’s got a smudge on his chin. I don’t point it out. Who am I to judge? His wife does enough of that to the point he has to hide his food like an alcoholic hides his bottles. Burger-aholic. That’s him.

“You look like hell,” he says.

I try to perk up. I don’t do a good job of it.

“Sheriff, I need your help with this case,” I tell him. I shut the door behind me and take a seat across from his desk.

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