Page 70 of Every Deadly Suspicion

They also noted that Joe had been suspected in the explosion that destroyed another meth lab a month prior. An older crime report was attached. It was more detailed than anything concerning the Beecher’s Mine fire. Hanna had heard the story before, but this was the first official report she’d read that wasn’t town gossip. The meth lab had exploded on county land. And the investigator mentioned DEA Agent Gilly, including the agent’s theory about the cause. Gilly believed the lab had been booby-trapped; the cooker destroyed it when he was discovered.

Hanna paused for a moment. Chase Buckley and Blake and Sophia Carson were also mentioned in the report. SophiaCarson was seriously burned but denied knowing about the lab. She and Blake claimed they were hiking and saw the fire and went over to investigate. Chase found them wandering in the forest and took them to the hospital. Blake was arrested at first but released.

Gilly left a note naming the known drug deals in the county. Joe Keyes was on the top of the list. At the time of filing, there was no evidence to say conclusively who was responsible for the meth lab explosion. She noted that there was only a brief sentence concerning Chase—he was not a suspect in any way. But the details about Joe and the Carsons were meticulous, even though no one was arrested for that incident. Hanna frowned, noting all the investigation and interviews connected to the older report. Why hadn’t all that been done for the Beecher’s Mine investigation?

Joe was arrested, and twelve hours later he confessed. All investigation stopped.

Hanna stood and began to pace. Running her fingers through her hair, she thought about all the information in Marcus’s book, all the stories about the murders she’d heard her whole life. Where did all that come from? Certainly not from Joe. Her mother was right about Marcus’s imagination.

The only other thing in the box was the transcript from Joe’s confession. Hanna sat back down and began to read.

I, Joseph M. Keyes, confess to the murder of Blake and Sophia Carson. I was up at the old Beecher’s Mine cabin to cook a batch of meth with them. While we were cooking, we fought. Blake wanted a bigger cut. I killed him and then Sophia when she got in the way. Chase came by. He was mad that we were cooking in his father’s cabin. He saw Blake and Sophia. We got in an argument, and I threw acid. Iwas high; I don’t remember anything else. I thought I killed Chase. I turned stuff over and started the fire, then I ran.

Less than half a page. No details. He should have had to give details for the judge to accept his confession.

She looked over all the names involved in the arrest. Sheriff Don Peterson. DA Geoff Robbins. Judge Walter Griggs. All three men were now dead. The public defender was listed as Alister Driscoll, and Hanna was not familiar with that name. She made a note to do an internet search and check with the court. There should be more names. In a double homicide of this magnitude, she couldn’t believe that only three people were involved in the investigation.

The rest of the evidence was likewise weak. Shards of an acid bottle with Joe’s fingerprints on them. A cast from Joe’s shoe print found near the cabin. There was evidence of a fair amount of blood in parts of the cabin that had not been destroyed by fire, later determined to belong to Blake and Sophia. Nothing about DEA Agent Gilly.

Hanna went through everything three times. There was nothing here that would have convicted Joe in court. He never even made a statement about where the Carsons’ bodies were or what he’d killed them with. More than that, when would he have had time to put their bodies in barrels and dump them in the lake?

She stood and paced. Something was so very off here. Her phone rang. The county recovery team called to tell her that the equipment was in place to remove the car. Frustrated, confused, and a little angry, Hanna returned the evidence box to the custodian of records and headed back to Dry Oaks. On the way, she called and asked a court clerk to check on Driscoll for her. The clerk said they would call her back.

Nathan paced his office, frustration spurring every step. Not only did this thing with Jared Hodges rub him the wrong way, but no matter which way they turned in the investigation, they hit a dead end. Edda’s car still had not been found. The techies were all over social media, trying to trace the guy who hooked the first two victims. Subpoenas had been served for their phone records, but none of the information was getting them any closer to finding the killer. He wished he could light a fire under the state lab regarding the DNA.

Nathan now concentrated on the vehicle: the SUV Colby identified. Looking for an SUV owned by a Hanna Keyes fan who might be a serial killer. Going through the number of Chevy Tahoes registered in the county was daunting, according to Manny.

“Concentrate on the local ones first,” Nathan suggested.

When Manny produced a list, he was happy to see that there weren’t that many. A few notable owners caught his eye. Everett Buckley had four. Jude Carver had one. Marcus Marshall also had one. Nathan and Manny split up. Nathan headed for Dry Oaks to check out the Tahoes there, and Manny went to handle those in Sonora.

Thinking of Hanna brought the barrels to mind. What a find, after thirty-five years. He prayed that Hanna would get all the answers she needed regarding what had happened with Joe and the Carsons. Nathan also hoped that by returning to Dry Oaks, he could talk to Hanna again and apologize for being so distressed about Jared Hodges. They’d talked about having lunch. He hoped the time opened up in both their schedules.

The car slowly emerged from the water. “That’s an old Mustang,” Jared said. He’d been at the lake when Hanna returned. “Probably from the 1990s.”

“You sure?” Hanna asked.

“I’m a bit of a car guy, remember?” He grinned.

“I remember. But the Carsons didn’t have a Mustang. In all the crimes Joe is accused of, there is no mention of a car.”

“Not related?”

“It can’t be. But if it’s from the 1990s...” Her voice trailed off. What on earth was going on?

When the dripping, rusted vehicle was placed on shore, it was clear that it was indeed a Ford Mustang. Asa walked around the vehicle, noting the plates. “This is a government car.” He relayed the plate number to dispatch. A few minutes later, they got the return that had everyone scratching their heads.

“That plate returns to a missing vehicle and missing person: Brett T. Gilly. There are alerts attached, and the FBI is requesting notification.”

Keys still in the ignition, there was a soaked, packed suitcase in the trunk, but nothing else in the car—no body, no indication where Gilly might be.

Reporters were everywhere, asking for comments. Hanna had none.

“What a mess,” Hanna said to Jared. “The Feds will be here.”

“Didn’t they search for him thirty-five years ago?”

“They did. According to Everett Buckley, they tore the town apart. There was a federal presence here for six months.”

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