Page 121 of Reading Between the Lines
I told him about our encounter with the police, our escape to prove our theory, about Loyal running us off the road, and about finding Hugh at the cemetery, ready to cover up the crime he’d committed years ago.
Then, I told him about the arrest and subsequent interview.
“Jesus fucking Christ. You guys don’t do things by halves, do you?”
“No. There’s a pair of homicide detectives here from Toronto. They’re the ones who questioned us. Doyle had already filled them in, so hopefully, they can blow this thing wide open. Abercrombie killed at least eight people. Maybe more.”
“And the kid? What did you call him? Loyal?”
“Yeah. He knew about his mother’s body. Must have, since he was aiding his father to cover it up. I don’t know if he was part of it or just knows his father’s sick secrets. He would have only been twelve or thirteen when she died.
“We believe Weston figured out the truth and might have confronted his girlfriend. He was dating Loyal’s twin sister. If Loyal knew his dad was a killer, it’s not hard to believe Londyn did too. And if Londyn discovered her boyfriend knew something incriminating, she would have likely told her brother. The fact that Loyal killed him in the same fashion as was described in a story they were perfecting in their club doesn’t shock me. Like father like son.”
“Christ.”
I sipped my coffee. It was truly disgusting. “But here’s the kicker. When the police were busy chasing Diem and me to the cemetery, no one was watching Loyal. He vanished. They haven’t been able to locate him or his sister all night.”
“So they’re at large?”
“Yep. Apparently, they have units looking for them, but they could be long gone by now. The SUV was left at the scene of the accident, so they don’t know what they might be driving. The other kids in the club were accounted for, so it seems the twins are on their own.”
“There’s some fucking disturbed people in this town.”
“Tell me about it. I still have a hundred questions that need to be answered, but I’m too tired to think.”
“In my experience, it will all come out before this is over.”
I tried the coffee again but cringed. “I can’t drink this.”
Costa chuckled and took it back, putting it in a cup holder. “Why don’t you recline your seat and rest. I’m going to hang out here and see if we can’t bust Krause out of jail in the morning. Who are the detectives from homicide?”
“Jenkins and Piggott.”
“Good people.”
“I don’t know them.”
“You’ll be all right.”
Costa and I sat in silence for a while, watching the snow fall as I tried to sleep. It was impossible. My head spun with information and questions, and I tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable.
“So,” my cousin said after a time, “The big guy lost his head for you, huh?”
I smiled. “Seems like.”
“Think he’ll let me sign his cast?”
“I think if you ask, he might clock you with it.”
Costa chuckled. “Fair enough. We’ll pretend it doesn’t exist. I’m happy for you. Oddly enough, you guys seemed to work together.”
“We do.”
I thought of Diem sitting in a cold jail cell, and my heart ached.
The detectives arrived at the station around seven. They didn’t notice us in the parking lot and headed inside.
At eight, Delaney Mandel pulled in with her husband in the passenger seat. Costa and I got out and met them as they exited their vehicle.
