“Do you know this man?” Derrick asked Bryce, showing the sheriff footage of the protests where Paulson had been present.
Bryce pinned him with an angry look. “I know of Paulson, but if you’re asking if I saw this coming, I didn’t.”
“According to the man’s neighbors,” Derrick said, reading the message, “when they were questioned during the Ghost case, he and his wife divorced two years after their daughter disappeared.” He skimmed further. “The wife filed for divorce, claiming her husband was an alcoholic. According to Paulson’s boss at the time, he went off the deep end and he had to fire him last year. The wife moved away with their son and refused to let him see the boy.”
“So his life spiraled because his daughter went missing,” Bryce said. “When her body was found, it triggered his rage toward Randall.”
“He needed someone to blame.” Derrick gave a brief nod.
“I know you think we’re small-town here, Agent Fox, but this is my county and I run it,” said the sheriff, his eyes hardening. “You can’t just come in and take over.”
Derrick’s anger spiked. “The feds are brought in to assist with cases that are wide-scoped and when police departments need help. It seems to me like you need all the manpower you can get to find this serial killer.”
“We’d find him without you.”
“Maybe so. But how many more women would die first?”
“Fuck you,” Bryce said, getting out and slamming the door.
The feeling was mutual. “Let’s just work the case,” Derrick replied, climbing from the vehicle. “If he’s not connected to the Weekday Killer, I need to get back to it and to Ellie.”
The sheriff’s look was scathing. “You should leave Ellie alone.”
“What’s it to you? At least I respect her work ethic.”
“What goes on between me and Ellie is none of your goddamn business,” Waters muttered.
Derrick ended the discussion by moving towards their target. While the sheriff went to the front door, Derrick moved to the right side of the trailer.
After knocking, Bryce signaled that he heard something, and Derrick hurried around back. Movement through the side window caught his eye, and he saw Paulson throwing clothes into a duffel bag as fast as he could. Another knock from the sheriff made Paulson jerk his head up, eyes wide and wild-looking, and he snatched the bag and darted into the hallway.
Hiding beside the rail to the back stoop, Derrick pressed his back against the wall, waiting. There was a crashing sound as Bryce kicked in the front door. His shout echoed from indoors, and he heard running, before the back door burst open, and Paulson staggered outside.
Derrick stepped from the shadows, aiming his weapon. “FBI, we need to talk, Paulson.”
The man froze for a brief second, confusion on his soot-streaked face.
Sensing he was on the verge of running, Derrick called out, “Don’t do it.”
Panicking, Paulson gripped the rail and stumbled down the steps. Derrick snatched him with one hand and threw him up against the wall. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Paulson shoved at him like an animal, but Derrick slammed his fist into his gut, making him double over with a groan. Jogging down the steps toward them, Bryce snagged his handcuffs from his belt and tossed them to Derrick.
Catching them, Derrick turned Paulson around and slapped the cuffs on him. He had no doubt this man set the fire at the Reeves’ house. He reeked of smoke and sweat, his clothes and skin stained with soot.
Bryce gave the man a venomous look then read him his Miranda rights as he hauled him toward the squad car.
“I hope that bastard died today!” Paulson shouted as Bryce shoved him in the back seat and slammed the door shut.
Derrick understood his hatred. Hell, he detested the fact that Randall was still walking around while his sister and nearly a dozen other little girls were dead at the hands of a monster.
But he’d joined law enforcement because he believed in it. If people took it into their own hands, there would be no safe place for anyone to go.
Sixty-Seven
Marvin’s Mobile Home Park
Derrick wanted to shake some sense into Paulson, to get some answers. But the look that Bryce gave him warned him not to.
He’d give him five minutes, then he’d take over. He’d already watched Randall, one small-town sheriff, screw up a case and let a killer roam free for decades––tearing his family apart in the process. This one was too important to mess around.
“Okay, Paulson, we know this,” Bryce said.
The man didn’t look so intimidating now he was cuffed. He was older than both Waters and Fox, and skinnier. He reeked of smoke and sweat, and his eyes looked glassy, as if he was too wasted to realize just how much trouble he was in.
“I lost my daughter because of that man.” Paulson’s voice shook with rage. “He was supposed to protect little girls like Ansley, but he let that psycho get away.”
Derrick understood his fury. He felt it too––it had haunted him for decades. Sometimes at night he woke in a cold sweat, wishing he could kill Hiram and Randall, wishing he could make them pay for his sister’s fate.
“I know you’re angry,” the sheriff said. “But the law says a man is innocent until proven guilty. And I’ve known Randall Reeves a long time. He didn’t turn a blind eye to justice. He was searching for your daughter’s killer all those years.”
“That’s bullshit,” Paulson spat. “They covered it all up, then protected their own daughter at the expense of everyone else’s. And now they’re going to get off scot free.”
“The law will decide what is true,” Sheriff Waters said bluntly. “You can’t go around threatening people and burning down their houses. For God’s sake, Randall and his wife might have died.” Bryce leaned closer. “Vera Randall almost did die. She’s in the hospital now fighting for her life.”
Paulson’s handcuffs clanged as he shook his fists. “Do you think I give a shit about that bitch? She gave birth to an evil monster. That means the devil is in her blood.” He grunted in disgust. “That means Ellie Reeves is evil, too.”
Derrick dragged him to his feet, his patience worn thin. “You hate Randall and Vera, I get it,” Derrick growled. “But their daughter had no idea what was going on. She risked her life to save those children.”
The sheriff cleared his throat. “He’s right.” Bryce moved up beside him. “And if you decided to kill these other women to get back at her, you’re going to prison for the rest of your life.”
Paulson’s eyes widened, snot dripping from his nose. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Did you send Randall and Ellie Reeves threats?” Bryce asked.
Paulson’s yellowed teeth clamped together, a vein throbbing in his neck.
“I take that as a yes,” Bryce said. “Then when you thought he might get the charges dropped you killed those women to get revenge against the Reeveses?”
Paulson began to shake his head. “No, goddammit, I… set that fire, but that was all I did.”