The Edge

Chapter 60

Devine and Alex next drove to the police station, where Mildred James greeted them.

“Alex?” she said in surprise. “I haven’t seen you in some time.”

Alex looked down at her boots. “Yes, I’ve... been pretty busy.”

“I’m sure. And I am so sorry about your sister, hon. Jenny was so—”

“—perfect?” said Alex, looking up with a sad expression. “I know everyone says that, but she really was, you know.” She glanced nervously at Devine. “At least she was to me. She looked after me and supported me, when others were... preoccupied.”

James looked a bit confused by all this, and Devine hastened to move things along.

“The evidence file for Earl Palmer? Can I take a look at it?”

“Certainly.”

She led them back, warned Devine that he couldn’t let Alex touch anything, and then left them. He figured she would have been far more hesitant to let the two of them have access to this evidence if Palmer’s death had not been officially ruled a suicide, despite her agreeing with Devine’s theory as to it possibly having been a murder.

“What are we looking for?” asked Alex.

Devine proceeded to tell her about his theory of the case with Earl’s death having been a homicide because of the man’s physical limitations. “And your seeing the pulley bolsters that.”

“That all makes sense, Travis. You would think Chief Harper could see that, too.”

“When he was Sergeant Harper he accessed your evidence file.”

“Why?”

“I guess he wanted to see if he could solve it, but your rape kit was missing, as I told you before.”

“Who would take it?”

“Whoever didn’t want your attacker to be found.”

“Do you have any idea who it is, Travis?” she asked in a trembling voice.

“I’m getting closer, I can feel it.”

He looked over the evidence that had been gathered from the Palmers’ studio and focused on the noose.

He took pictures of it with his camera.

“God, that is a gruesome-looking thing,” said Alex.

“Between World War II and 1961 the U.S. military executed 160 soldiers for various offenses. They were all hanged, and the Army was responsible for 157 of them.”

“An eye for an eye?”

“Not really. Fourteen offenses are punishable by death during times of war or peace. Every soldier knows what they are, or should. So long as he or she avoids them, they have no problem.” He didn’t tell her that one of them was for rape.

“And for times of war only?” she said.

“Four, including desertion and willfully disobeying or assaulting a superior officer.”

“I suppose you never willfully disobeyed or assaulted a superior officer?”

“Not a superior officer, no,” said Devine, thinking of Kenneth Hawkins, who had, like Devine, also held the rank of captain.

He drove Alex back to Jocelyn Point. She got out of the truck and then poked her head back in. “I heard about your rental. Annie said it was shot full of holes.”

“It was. But I’m not.”

She visibly shuddered at his flippant remark. “Do you know why they’re trying to kill you? Is it connected to what happened to Jenny?”

“I don’t know, honestly. It could be connected to something totally unrelated. Old enemies,” he added.

“Please be careful.”

“I always am, Alex. It’s why I’m still here.”

Devine watched her walk inside, then started back down the drive. But as he was doing so he noted for the first time that the drive also had a branch off to the right, heading toward some of the other buildings he had seen on his first night here. He hung a quick right and drove off.

The first three buildings he reached were abandoned or falling down, and otherwise uninhabitable. The fourth one was not.

He parked in front and looked back at the main house. It was not visible from here because the trees and large bushes neatly blocked this building from both the house’s view and from the coast road.

He got out and approached the door. The walls were stone while the door was wood. It was locked. The windows were blacked out and seemed to be painted shut. He tried his lock gun, but the lock was superior to his skill and equipment. He walked around the building and quickly found that was the only door.

He studied the path to the building’s entrance. Well-worn, so well used. And recently. He stood at the window and took a quick inhale. He had done this in the Middle East. Munitions and explosives all had distinct odors. He wasn’t smelling anything like that. Yet there was some scent in there that he couldn’t readily identify. And there was also a humming. Was it insects, bees? Was there infestation in there?

He waited, listened. No, it was too consistent, same sounds, same rhythm.

Mechanical, not natural, he concluded.

He took out his phone and Googled something. It took a few minutes of searching before he found what he was looking for.

Closest place was twenty miles from here.

He jumped into the truck and sped off.

Nearly two hours later Devine was back with what he needed. He returned to Jocelyn Point but stopped short of the entry driveway.

He made the rest of the trip on foot as darkening clouds gathered above him.

He slipped in and out of tree lines, and waited behind bushes to make sure there was no one about. It felt like he was back in the Afghan mountains hunting the Taliban and its iterations, all while they hunted him.

He reached the building, found a good spot, and set up what he had purchased.

The surveillance camera was motion operated so it wouldn’t be on continuous feed and was capable of being synced with his phone, which would alert him if there was any activity. He performed all the necessary tasks, including securing the tiny camera to the trunk of a tree with a direct sight line to the door.

Now he just had to wait for his trap to be sprung. But while he was waiting for that he had things to do. He drove off.

However, he was just about to run into an obstacle.