Killer Heat (Dept 6 Hired Guns 3) - Page 95/104

“And your husband went along with this?”

“Of course. He agreed with me, even helped. He’s her father. He didn’t want to see her go to prison any more than I did.”

“Why didn’t you bury her?”

“We wanted to have easy access in case we ever lost the salvage yard to the bank—there’ve been some pretty lean years—and we had to move. We couldn’t leave that behind for someone else to discover.”

“Where was Dean when this occurred?” Francesca asked.

“Out. Like he usually is. Rambling. He didn’t know anything about it until he came across the body. And I’m guessing that just happened recently or I would’ve heard about it before. He thought Butch had killed her, so he put Julia’s panties, which he must’ve taken from her body at some point, in Butch’s truck for Paris to find. I think he was hoping to get rid of Butch. Butch has never been very nice to him.”

Francesca broke in for the first time. “Will Butch and Paris back up this story—about the accident?”

Elaine Wheeler’s voice cooled. “I have no idea. They’ll be angry that I put Paris at risk for Dean’s sake. For all Butch’s cheating, he loves Paris. But like I said, my husband was there that night. He’ll tell you what he saw.”

“What about Sherrilyn Gators, Mrs. Wheeler?” Jonah asked.

Sweat glistened on her scalp. Jonah was getting hot, too. He needed to start the car, but he didn’t want to interrupt the conversation.

“The police already asked about her,” she said. “Years ago. And I’ll tell you what I told them. The night Dean went to her house and got so upset? That wasn’t the last time they saw each other. A few days later, Sherrilyn showed up at the salvage yard in tears and told Dean she hadn’t been happy since they split up. She wanted to get back together, said they could work around his problems.” Her chest rose as she drew a deep breath. “She only wanted to be loved. Her son had no right to deny her that. Dean was absolutely devoted to her.”

Francesca angled her head to see around the seat. “So where did Sherrilyn go?”

Mrs. Wheeler didn’t act as though she wanted to talk to Francesca, although she answered. “She had some car trouble, but eventually went home. That’s all I know. Dean didn’t kill her. He might have his challenges, but he doesn’t have a violent bone in his body. That’s why I can’t sit back and let this happen. It’s not right.”

Mrs. Wheeler had confirmed what Dean had told them about Sherrilyn. “His drawings might suggest he at least fantasizes about violence,” Jonah said.

“Those drawings don’t mean anything. They’re a way to vent the anger he feels, a safe way to vent it.”

“Is there any chance Sherrilyn knew Butch?” Francesca asked.

“Not well. The day she came to the yard, her car wouldn’t start, so he gave her a ride to town and bought her a new battery. But that’s it. We were nothing but nice to that woman.”

“And Bianca Andersen?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“What about April Bonner?”

“I don’t know her, either. Look, I’ve told you everything I know. I’ve endangered one of my children to save the other, but I’m hoping…I’m hoping there’ll be some understanding of what happened and why. Paris didn’t mean to kill Julia. I was there. I know. Now…can I please see my son?”

If the coroner backed up Elaine’s testimony by establishing that a nail puncture to the head was the cause of death, the police wouldn’t have enough evidence to hold Dean. Elaine had just explained why there’d been a body in that old freezer and how it’d gotten there. Jonah guessed the forensics would support what she’d said, exonerating Dean. And the police didn’t have any hard evidence tying him to the other murders, either.

“Sure,” he said, and started the car.

By four o’clock that afternoon, Dean had been released. Butch remained free. And Paris had been charged with involuntary manslaughter. Her parents were working hard to get her out on bail, and Hunsacker was, of course, doing his best to help them. But because she’d hidden the “accident” for so long, and would’ve hidden it even longer had events not conspired against her, Francesca believed she’d get the maximum sentence once the case went to trial. Six years in a federal penitentiary wasn’t a stiff penalty in this instance, but it was a big chunk of time when you were raising a child. Champ would be close to twelve when she got out. Butch’s wife was distraught to think she’d be away from her family for any length of time.

After dinner, and before leaving Prescott, Francesca and Jonah had visited Camp Verde Detention Center to see if Paris had anything to say about the other women who’d been murdered. They thought she might be more forthcoming now that she didn’t have her own secret to guard anymore. But their attempt hadn’t succeeded. Paris had alternately railed at them for being the reason she’d been arrested and pleaded with them for their help, but she’d revealed nothing new or hopeful.

Francesca felt sorry for her but was frustrated at the same time. Paris insisted Butch wouldn’t have killed a single person, that it had to be Dean if it was anyone at the salvage yard. But she could offer no firsthand account or other proof, and Francesca felt she had to know something, had to wonder about a particular night or a particular woman. Paris hadn’t even given them a list of the women she believed her husband had slept with so Francesca could check on their whereabouts, although Paris had obviously known about several of them.

Bottom line, other than solving one murder out of a possible ten, Paris’s incarceration did little to advance the overall investigation. What about April and the other victims who had some connection, if only a circumstantial one, to Butch? They hadn’t died accidentally, like Julia.

“We’ll figure it out,” Jonah said, covering her hand with his own as he drove them back to Chandler.

Francesca felt a measure of relief. She knew she should probably resist the comfort he offered, at least until she could sort out the questions that stood between them, but it was too easy to succumb. She enjoyed his company, enjoyed his touch. Somehow, she told herself, they’d make it work.

“I hope so,” she said, and wove her fingers through his.

Then she leaned against the door and drifted off to sleep, only to be awakened by Jonah saying, “We’ve got company.”