If we’d still been in high school, he would have shoved me away after making his snide statement, but he knew better than to touch a federal agent.
“This shouldn’t even be your jurisdiction. Her body never crossed state lines.”
Standing to my full height, I silently reminded him I was no longer the scrawny, quiet kid who could be pushed around. Simon was smart to back down.
Grinning to see defeat weighing on his shoulders, I directed him to the reason I was here.
“Tell me what you already know, and I’ll keep it in mind when reading the rest of the file.”
He slammed his hand against a wall, the jarring sound not doing much to ruffle my feathers. He would accept my help eventually; it was only a matter of time.
How weak does a man’s ego need to be to refuse to admit he’s cornered? How much time is necessary for that same man to set aside his petty defenses and accept the help being offered?
Seconds passed, tension thickening the stale air of a conference room littered with the morbid reminder of death.
“Soren Callahan killed her.” So adamant that he knew who took Teagan’s young life, Simon was unwilling to consider another suspect.
Spinning on his heel, he glared at me as if it had been my hand that prevented him from proving he was right.
“I know it was him. That sick fuck has been running kids all over Winter Ridge and the neighboring towns doping them up and daring them to risk their lives for the fucking fun of it. The crime rate around here only dropped in the past two years because I found a way to put his ass in prison.”
“Which he’s being released from this morning.”
My reminder of Soren’s completion of his two-year sentence drove blood to the surface of Simon’s cheeks.
“Only because his fancy suit lawyer was able to get him a lenient sentence for the drugs he was selling. I wouldn’t be surprised if he beat and displayed Teagan’s body to cover up an overdose.”
“There were no drugs in her system. At least, not according to the medical examiner’s report.”
Simon dropped into a seat across the room, his head falling into his hands as the adrenaline of his hatred of me dissipated.
He was exhausted, this case chasing him to bed each night to continue its gripping reign in his dreams.
“Yeah, and that’s the only reason I didn’t charge him with murder when I arrested him for the drugs.”
“So, tell me what you know.”
Resigned to the fact that I was consulting on the case whether he liked it or not, Simon spilled like a busted dam, the cold, stale floodwaters of his thoughts carrying with it the horrid details of the case as it flowed across the room on what sounded like a single, defeated breath.
“Teagan McKay was found naked, bound and displayed between two trees at The Pointe on the morning of April third. Her body was just hung there, like some screwed up scarecrow, or Jesus, or some shit. She was a few weeks away from graduating high school and had been reported missing five days prior to the discovery of the body. Two kids found her when heading out to the secluded area to make out or whatever the hell it is they do out there.”
I leaned against the table, folded my arms over my chest. Although I knew much of the story of Teagan’s death, I hadn’t yet learned all the intimate details. Judging from the lines deepening over his face, there were plenty.
Rather than interrupting him with my thoughts, I remained silent and allowed the floodwaters to keep flowing.
“From what we know, her body hadn’t been there long. Several groups of people had been at The Pointe during the time she was missing. So, whoever killed her had kept her alive for at least a few days. Judging by the condition of the body, she wasn’t tortured, not physically anyway. Her death was a result of a head injury caused by blunt force trauma. It wasn’t a single blow, though. Her death had been violent.”
Nodding, I made a mental note of the details, sorting them and adding more imagery to the picture I was creating in my mind of what happened.
Simon exhaled a deep breath, the angry heat in the room replaced quickly with a cold chill.
“There was no evidence of sexual battery on the body as far as the medical examiner could tell, but she was bathed before being displayed. Her body was so clean there wasn’t a speck of foreign DNA or dirt found on her. Her hair was washed and brushed, and her makeup was done before she was strung up. Whether that was pre or post mortem, we’re not sure. We assume post because there was no dried blood in her hair or on her skin from the violence she suffered.”
I’d made the same inference while examining the photos and imagining myself at the scene where the body was found. Still, I wouldn’t say as much only to set Simon back on the defensive.
“Based on that, what leads you to believe Soren Callahan is the killer?”
It was like leading a horse to water while stroking the precious ego that kept him moving.
In many ways, Simon was as volatile as the criminals he chased every day. Here was a man who knew failure. Here was a man willing to do anything to pretend he was as good as every person who surrounded him. But was he a man willing to resort to crime to make others believe it as well?
He’d already found one reason to put Soren behind bars, and I had to admit the reason was valid. But was Simon also willing to fabricate evidence in an effort to prove he was right?
Only time would tell.
Body relaxing against his seat, Simon ran two hands through his hair before pinning his eyes on me.
“My brother, Tristan, knows Soren and his friends. He dated a girl by the name of Kendall Warner for a few years in high school. They were two grades below Soren, making them sophomores while he was a senior. Although I haven’t officially listed Tristan as a witness in the files because I don’t want him involved in this case, he’s been a source of information regarding the pledges and what Soren makes them do.”
This was the first bit of information I didn’t know. I was a dog with a stick, grabbing onto it with sharp teeth and the refusal to let it go. “Pledges? What do you mean by that?”
He laughed, a snide, short chortle that expressed his belief that he was smarter than me.
“Ah, so the fancy FBI guy doesn’t know everything after all? Why am I not surprised?”
“Pledges?” I asked again, refusing to take the bait and enter into a pissing contest over who was the better investigator.
Shaking his head, Simon relaxed more, his seat groaning to take the weight.
“Soren runs some kind of rich kids club. Tristan was never involved in it, but apparently Kendall got a bug up her ass and wanted to be part of the in crowd. From what she told him, kids are willing to do anything to be part of that circle, and Soren gets his kicks by challenging them to do messed up tasks in order to be accepted. Like a twisted fraternity. Tristan wasn’t sure about all the rules, but whatever they did to Kendall was enough to force her to drop out of Winter Ridge Prep and be homeschooled for the rest of the year. She only agreed to show her face at the school again after Soren was arrested and his friends had graduated and left for college.
His eyes met mine.
“They fucked her up, Jonah. Bad. And based on that, I’m assuming whatever happened to Teagan was another screwed up task gone wrong.”
The picture was becoming clearer.
“So you’re assuming that Teagan died for one reason, but that her body was staged-“