Harris did not answer Brenner immediately.
That surprised me.
Everything in me wanted a response.
Where is Samuel?
Is he hurt?
What do you want?
Harris did none of it.
He placed the phone on the table and looked at Donna.
“Can Brenner spoof Samuel’s number?”
“Yes.”
“Would he know Samuel’s messaging habits?”
“Some.”
“Could Samuel have sent the coordinates under coercion?”
“Yes.”
Claire stared at the church location.
“We still have to go.”
“Yes.”
Bentley stood near the kitchen doorway.
“What does Brenner want?”
Harris looked at me.
I nodded.
No point pretending.
“The list.”
Bentley glanced toward the evidence bag holding the music box.
“He thinks we still have the real one here?”
“Probably.”
“But police copied it.”
“Yes.”
“So giving it to him doesn’t fix anything.”
“No.”
“Then why would he trade Samuel for it?”
Harris stared at him.
That was the correct question.
Brenner could not erase evidence already copied by state and federal investigators.
Unless he did not know it had been found.
Or the list was not what he truly wanted.
Harris replied to Brenner:
PROOF SAMUEL IS ALIVE.
A minute later, photograph.
Samuel seated in a wooden chair.
Beard.
Bruised face.
Bandage around one hand.
Alive.
Behind him, church pews.
Bentley stepped closer.
“That’s Uncle Samuel?”
“Yes.”
He stared at the photograph.
Then at the coordinates.
“What?”
I asked.
He pointed.
“He doesn’t look scared.”
Harris frowned.
Samuel’s face was tired.
Angry.
But Bentley was right.
Not frightened.
His hands were visible.
No rope.
No cuffs.
“Could be restrained behind chair,” Claire said.
Bentley shook his head.
“His shoulders.”
“What about them?”
“When Travis tied Mom’s—”
He stopped.
Amber had told him more than we knew.
He continued carefully.
“When somebody’s arms are pulled back, shoulders look different.”
Harris enlarged the photograph.
Samuel’s arms appeared relaxed.
Possibly free.
Donna leaned closer.
“Oh.”
“What?”
“That church.”
“You recognize it?”
“No. The chair.”
She zoomed in.
“Samuel carries that chair?”
Bentley looked at her as if she had gone mad.
Donna explained.
“Portable folding chair. He keeps one in his van because he hates sitting with his back to doors.”
Harris looked at the photograph again.
Samuel was sitting on his own chair.
Not a church chair.
“Maybe Brenner captured him with his equipment,” Claire suggested.
“Maybe.”
Bentley kept studying.
Then pointed again.
“Window.”
The photograph showed a narrow stained-glass window.
Light entering.
But it was already night.
“Picture isn’t now,” Bentley said.
Harris checked metadata.
Stripped.
Brenner had sent an older photograph.
Proof Samuel had been alive at some point.
Not proof he currently held him.
Harris replied:
LIVE PROOF.
No answer.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Then a voice call.
Brenner.
“You’re wasting time.”
Harris recorded.
“Put Samuel on.”
“He’s not feeling conversational.”
“Then no deal.”
“You don’t control this.”
“Neither do you.”
Brenner’s breathing changed.
“Bring Raymond’s list.”
“You mean the list Pike paid Judge Keene to support?”
Silence.
Harris had deliberately revealed knowledge.
Brenner cursed.
“So Samuel got to Donna.”
“Maybe.”
“He’s going to get people killed.”
“You’ve done fine at that yourself.”
“I never killed anyone.”
“You helped bury Garner.”
“After he was dead.”
“You falsified Samuel’s drowning.”
“To keep Voss from killing him.”
Again.
Protection.
Everyone had learned Raymond’s language.
“You attacked Samuel six months ago.”
Brenner went quiet.
“Who told you that?”
“Samuel.”
“Then you know he lies.”
“Funny. Everyone says that about witnesses.”
Brenner disconnected.
Harris looked at tactical officers.
“We still approach church.”
Claire insisted on joining command nearby.
Donna too.
Bentley was staying with me.
He hated it.
But before Harris left, Bentley asked to see the church photograph again.
He studied the floor.
The chair.
Window.
Samuel’s shoes.
Then his face.
“Can you make it bigger?”
Harris enlarged it.
Bentley pointed to Samuel’s left cheek.
“What’s that?”
Small dark line.
Marker?
Scar?
Donna looked closer.
“Writing.”
On Samuel’s cheek, barely visible, was a black mark.
Not random.
Two characters.
2L.
“What does that mean?” Harris asked.
Donna stared.
“I don’t know.”
Claire did.
“Second location.”
“What?”
“Samuel used shorthand in our files. L meant location.”
“Two-L?”
“Location two.”
“So the church is location one?”
“Probably.”
Bentley looked at the photograph.
“He wanted somebody to notice.”
Harris asked, “Why put it on his face?”
“Because Brenner wouldn’t crop his face.”
Exactly.
Samuel had planted a clue inside the proof photograph.
If Brenner sent it, Samuel expected investigators to see it.
“Where is location two?” Harris asked.
Claire searched Samuel’s files.
Nothing obvious.
Donna remembered something.
“He numbered safe sites.”
“How?”
“Not addresses. Descriptions.”
“Do you know number two?”
“No.”
Bentley said, “Maybe his map.”
The map from the Missouri farmhouse.
Duplex.
Maple tree.
Other marks investigators had assumed were roads.
Harris pulled up the image.
Small handwritten numbers appeared at edges.
1 beside the church road.
2 beside a symbol north of town.
A square.
“What’s there?” Harris asked.
Doug looked over his shoulder.
“That’s the old water-treatment station.”
Abandoned after the new municipal plant opened.
Ten miles from the church.
Location two.
Harris changed the operation immediately.
One team approached church.
Another moved toward the water station.
No sirens.
No lights.
The waiting became unbearable.
Bentley sat beside my kitchen window.
“Samuel knew Brenner would use the picture.”
“Maybe.”
“He wrote on his face before Brenner took it.”
“Maybe Brenner made him take it.”
“Then Samuel still found a way.”
“Yes.”
Bentley understood that kind of thinking.
Make the lunch last.
Hide from the bus.
Keep Maddie quiet.
Find the one small choice remaining when adults control everything else.
At 11:18, church team entered.
Empty.
One folding chair.
Blood on floor.
Not much.
Recently cleaned.
Brenner had used it.
But no Samuel.
At 11:26, water-station team found a vehicle.
Brenner’s stolen sedan.
Empty.
At 11:31, movement inside.
One person.
Police surrounded the building.
Harris called me.
“Stay on the line.”
“What’s happening?”
“We have someone.”
“Samuel?”
“Unknown.”
Then radio voices.
Commands.
Door opening.
A man emerged.
Hands raised.
Not Brenner.
Samuel.
Bentley heard Harris say the name.
He stood so fast the chair fell.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Samuel Collins walked out of the water-treatment station alive.
Injured.
Exhausted.
But free.
Police searched the building.
No Brenner.
“How did Samuel get there?” I asked.
Harris did not yet know.
An ambulance checked him.
Samuel refused hospital transport until he spoke with Harris.
That sounded like a Collins.
His first question:
“Did Brenner send the church picture?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“I gave it to him.”
Harris stared.
“You voluntarily gave Brenner the photograph?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed him to think he found my safe location.”
“You staged this?”
“Part of it.”
“Where is Brenner?”
Samuel looked toward the dark road.
“He thinks I’m meeting Pike.”
“Where?”
“Location three.”
Harris’s face hardened.
“You used us to push Brenner?”
“I used Brenner to lead you to Pike.”
“Where is location three?”
Samuel smiled despite the bruise on his face.
“You already know.”
Harris swore.
“Samuel.”
“The maple tree.”
My stomach dropped.
Our street.
Bentley’s bus stop.
Samuel continued.
“Pike is coming for the music box.”
“He doesn’t know we removed it.”
“No.”
“And Brenner?”
“Following him.”
“Why?”
“Because each thinks the other has the original list.”
Harris shouted orders into the radio.
Units turned back toward Kilgore Avenue.
Toward our duplex.
Toward us.
I looked outside.
The street seemed empty.
Bentley stood beside me.
“Miss Arlene?”
“Yes?”
A pair of headlights appeared at the far end of the block.
Slow.
Then another vehicle turned in behind it.
Two cars.
Coming toward the maple tree.
Click here to continue reading: PART 28: Pike and Brenner Arrived at the Maple Tree Hunting the Same Evidence, Until Samuel Stepped From the Darkness and Forced Them to Choose
Every Morning at 7:10, Bentley Knocked on My Door With the Same Polite Request and a Different Excuse
Part 27 of 40
