Page 129 of Sworn to Silence
“I hate all this weird shit. Working for Detrick sucks.”
The switchboard trilled. Turning her radio down, Mona slid the headset over her ears and hit Talk. “Painters Mill PD.”
“This is Ronald Duff with the Indiana State Police calling for Chief of Police Kate Burkholder.”
“Chief Burkholder isn’t in.” Mona still couldn’t bring herself to tell people Kate was no longer chief. Breaking that kind of news to the public wasn’t her responsibility. She supposed she was hoping everything would get straightened out and Kate would return. After tonight, it sure didn’t look that way.
“You know how to reach her?” the man asked.
“Sheriff Detrick is here. Can he help you?” She’d been instructed by the sheriff to pass all the chief’s calls to him, which Mona had been doing.
“That would be fine. Thanks.”
“Can I tell him what it’s regarding?”
“I found a better image of the victim here in Indiana, and I wondered if he wanted me to fax it.”
Satisfied Detrick was the correct person this man should speak to, Mona transferred the call.
Wind and snow buffet me as I slide into the Mustang and slam the door. I can’t believe what just happened. I’m shaking so hard I can barely get the key in the ignition. I know it sounds crazy, but I think Detrick is the killer. All the evidence points to him, and after what Jonas just told me... Detrick must have planted the evidence found at Jonas’s farm. If he gets the chance, he’ll kill Jonas to cover his tracks.
That’s when I realize I’m in over my head. I can’t handle this on my own. Not only am I no longer a cop, but my integrity has come into question. Detrick has done everything in his power to discredit me—and quite effectively. If I start making accusations, people will think I’m disgruntled over losing my job.
I didn’t want to call John until I had rock-solid proof implicating Detrick, but I can’t put it off any longer. Jonas is in real danger. It’s going to be a hard sell, but I need John’s help. I dial his number as I head out of town.
Though it’s after midnight, he picks up on the second ring. “You okay?” he asks.
“I’m in trouble.”
“Now there’s a surprise. What happened?”
“Promise me you’re not going to call me crazy and hang up.”
“You know I have a soft spot for the mentally disturbed.”
I choke out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. “I think I know who the killer is.”
“I’m listening.”
“Nathan Detrick.”
The silence that follows is so profound that for a second I think I lost the connection. Then he sighs. “You came to this stunning conclusion how, exactly?”
Quickly, I tell him about the murders in Fairbanks that occurred while Detrick worked there as a hunting guide. That he actually “found” one of the bodies. I tell him about the murders in Kentucky and Indiana and their proximity to Dayton where Detrick was a cop. I tell him Detrick owns a blue snowmobile. I lay out the timeline. “I know it’s circumstantial, but you have to admit, if you put it all together, it’s compelling.”
“Kate, goddamnit.”
I close my eyes. “John, listen to me. I think Detrick framed Hershberger. I think he’s going to murder him to shut him up.” Quickly, I explain what happened at the station.
“Detrick’s a fucking cop. A husband with three teenaged girls. He coaches the football team.”
“I know who he is! And I know how this sounds!” I snap. “Look, he’s in the middle of a messy divorce. Maybe that was the trigger for this escalation.”
“Kate...”
“I don’t like this any more than you do. But I can’t ignore what I’ve found.”
He sighs, and I get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. The kind of feeling when I know someone whose opinion I value is about to say something I don’t want to hear. Because that person is John, it hurts. And it scares me because without him, I’m on my own.
