“He put in for a transfer to another prison. His reason was that he was being harassed by Internal Affairs. The superintendent turned down his request and assigned him a desk job away from the prisoners. Rader quit.”
“So that’s it?” I ask. “They’re not going to pursue him for the deaths. The murders?”
“Megan, I want him to be guilty as much as you do. But there was no physical evidence and there was no way to prove Rader had brought poison into the prison.”
“What was the poison?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“Cyanide. They found it at the autopsy, but by the time they knew it was a poison that killed them, the cells had been cleaned out and other prisoners were in them.”
“And there were holes in the video when they checked to see if Rader went in their cells before they died?”
“Yes. Rader will never get a job with corrections again. Or any law enforcement agency, for that matter. He was suspended twice for excessive force but both times it was only a day or two and a fine. It pisses me off that no one put the word out on this guy. He could have been living here, pulling the same kind of shit on anyone that got in his way.”
I can hear anger in Sheriff Gray’s voice. I’m pissed off, too, but for a different reason.
“If Marley finds what I think he will,” I say, “I should have enough to take him into custody.”
Sheriff Gray goes quiet. Not good.
“What?” I ask.
“Megan, even if the lab says this is the same type of chemical that was in Delmont’s system, it won’t prove he poisoned her. You don’t have anything showing motive. Why did he kill her?”
I can’t tell him everything I know. I don’t dare. If I don’t, a murderer will walk free. Rader will win again. But even if I spill my guts, it will only hurt my getting a warrant. I’ll look as bad, or worse, than him.
And there’s the fact that Rylee was never found. She’s supposed to be dead. The only thing I can hope for is a DNA match that positively puts him at the scene of Monique’s murder. I need to go back and search the motor home again. Look for any type of knife. If he’s home, he’ll fight. If he does, I can take a dying declaration from him. My word against a dead man’s.
I zone back in. Sheriff Gray is calling my name.
“Sorry, I was just thinking.”
He’s quiet again. Long enough to worry me.
“Sheriff?”
I hear his chair squeak. He’s sitting up. “Megan, when this is over, we need to have a talk.”
I don’t ask about what. I know. I hoped this day would never come.
“Thanks for trusting me,” I say.
“No problem,” he says.
Before he hangs up I ask, “By the way, did you ask the Clallam County Sheriff if there were any murders like the Delmont case?”
He sighs. “I’m not stupid. I told him about our case. If he had anything, he would have told me.”
“Right,” I say. I don’t think he’s stupid. I just want to be sure.
Forty-Eight
Marley Yang is walking Ronnie to the car. His hair is more stylish than the last time I saw him. His clothes a cut above his usual Macy’s menswear. He gives me a knowing smile and comes to my window.
“I knew you’d be wanting to know,” he says, “so I’m delivering it verbally in person. I’ll send the report tonight, but Ronnie said you needed to know right away and she didn’t think she’d remember everything.”
I almost laugh out loud but choke it back. Ronnie is a manipulator. Maybe as good as me. “Okay.”
“First of all, I’m not even going to address the black lace panties. I have them if you want them back.”