“Yes, the ‘pillar of the community,'” she said with pure bitterness. “The town’s moral compass.”
She stood up and went to a filing cabinet. She pulled out a thick folder. “This is everything I gathered in 2015. Names, dates, circumstances. Some witness statements I took off the record. I kept a copy.”
“Just in case.” She laid the folder on the desk in front of Alex. “Take it. Give it to the State Police. Just…” “What?” “Don’t tell them where you got it.”
“Not yet. If Jim finds out I…” She didn’t finish the thought. “Does he hurt you?” Ellen looked away. “Sometimes, when I ask the wrong questions. When I don’t play the part.” “Why don’t you leave?”
“Where would I go? I have a daughter. The house is in his name. The paper is funded by his family’s business. If I try to leave, George will make sure I lose everything.”
“He’d take Macy, he’d put me on the street. He can do it, believe me.” Alex took the folder. “Thank you,” he said. “I know what this costs you.” “Just find the truth.”
“For those girls. For your sister.” “I will.” He was at the door when Ellen said: “Alex, be careful. The Garretts… they won’t stop. George especially.”
“I’ve seen his eyes. There’s nothing human in there.” Alex nodded and left. It was getting dark. Alex clutched the folder to his chest like it was gold. This was more than he’d hoped for.
Names, dates, evidence. A professional journalist’s work. He pulled out his phone and called Jenkins. “Investigator, it’s Alex Morris. I have more. A lot more.”
“Can I come in tomorrow?” “Of course. What do you have?” “A dossier on the missing women compiled by a journalist eight years ago. It has witness statements that aren’t in the official files.” There was a pause.
“Where did you get this?” “From a source who needs to stay anonymous for now.” “Alright. Tomorrow at nine.” Alex hung up and looked around. The street was empty.
He headed for the bus stop. His apartment was on the other side of town. He didn’t see the black SUV until it pulled up right next to him. The door opened, and Jim Garrett stepped out. “Alex,” he said, almost friendly. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Want to grab a seat? Let’s talk.” Alex instinctively stepped back. His heart hammered. “Don’t be nervous,” Garrett said, holding his hands up. “I’m not armed. I just want to talk.”
“About what?” “About what you found at the church. About your sister. About what you’re planning to do next.” Jim Garrett looked exhausted. Dark circles under his eyes.
His face looked sunken. In twenty-four hours, he’d aged a decade. “I know you were at the barracks with Jenkins,” he continued. “And I know you just left the paper. From my wife.” Alex felt a chill.
They were watching him. The whole time. “Don’t worry,” Garrett said, as if reading his mind. “If I wanted to hurt you, you’d know it by now. But I’m not your enemy, Alex. Believe me.”
“Not my enemy?” Alex felt a surge of anger. “You handled my sister’s case eighteen years ago and buried it, even though a witness saw her get into a black SUV—just like your father’s!” Garrett was silent. “You knew,” Alex continued. “You always knew and you covered for him. How many more girls died because you stayed quiet?”
“Get in the car,” Garrett said quietly. “Please. What I have to tell you… it’s not for the street.” Alex hesitated. Every instinct told him to run. But something in Garrett’s voice, in his slumped shoulders, suggested otherwise.
“Fine,” he said. “But I’ve already told Investigator Jenkins where I am and who I’m with.” It was a lie, but Garrett just nodded. Smart. They got into the car. Garrett didn’t start the engine; he just sat there, staring ahead.
He was silent for a few minutes, gathering his thoughts. “I was twenty-seven when I found out,” he began finally. “A young deputy, full of ideals, wanted to protect people. Funny, right?”
