“What made him different?” Fitzgibbon asked from the driver’s seat.
“Joseph Whittaker is praying to die. It’s all that’s on his mind. I was able to see a glimpse of his life as a kid when Ronan told him we were cold case detectives. His thought loop stopped long enough for me to pick up a trickle of information on his life. Then, when we accused him of killing Marie, his rage blocked everything out.” Not only had Ten never come across someone with an actual death wish, but he’d also never encountered a temper quite like Whittaker’s. He’d seen it in colors. Deep, rich oranges and reds, like the colors of volcanic lava, and just as deadly.
“He wants to be reunited with Marie. I could see it in his eyes while he was confessing,” Ronan said. “His pain was so present it felt like I could reach out and touch it.”
“I got that impression too,” Fitzgibbon said.
“Were you able to catch up with the other principals in the parking lot?” Ronan asked. Fitz hadn’t come back into the diner after he followed the other men outside. He’d been waiting in the front seat of the SUV when they’d left twenty minutes later.
“I was,” Fitz agreed. “They all skedaddled because they knew about Whittaker’s temper. They didn’t want to be around when his anger detonated. Apparently, they’d tried to talk to him about Marie in the past, and it hadn’t gone well. The case might have been closed before it was ever really opened, but people in this town have their own opinions about who killed Marie and why. All four of them think Joseph is the killer.”
“Jesus,” Ronan muttered under his breath. “I can’t imagine what that must be like, people thinking you’re a killer for over fifty years. I wish there was a way we could clear Whittaker’s name publicly.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Ten wanted to write an op-ed for the local paper and detail Whittaker’s innocence, but he was certain not everyone would believe him. Story of his life. With Sheila dead and the evidence of the crime long gone, there was no way to definitively prove she was the killer in the eyes of the law. “I can tell you that he’s worked very hard to bottle up the rage he’s felt since the murder. If Sheila had told the police her husband had killed Marie, they would have believed her. What with his temper on a razor’s edge and the cut she’d given him, Whittaker wouldn’t have stood a chance.”
“What I still can’t get over was the fact that the police were okay with letting a killer or killers walk free in this town.” Fitzgibbon sighed. “I understand they thought Marie being murdered after she’d killed the kids was poetic justice, but they should have worked the case without bias.”
“I get where you’re coming from, Fitz. There’s no way I would have ever let a killer walk free, not that you would have let me anyway. Over the course of my career, I met killers who I didn’t think deserved prison time. Women who’d been horribly abused by the husbands they’d killed and the like, but it’s not my job to be judge, jury, and executioner. I need to follow the law like everyone else.”
Jude muttered his assent. “What are we going to do at the school?” He shifted in his seat to peer at Tennyson.
“I’m going to try to communicate with Marie again. I’m hoping that she’ll be willing to talk now that we know what happened that awful day fifty years ago. Maybe the truth will set her free.” Ten wasn’t able to see the outcome of this trip. He’d been trying to make contact with Marie from the moment they’d crossed the border from Massachusetts into New Hampshire. He hadn’t heard a peep from her, and neither had Bertha. Ten knew she would have come straight to him if contact had been made.
Ronan opened his mouth to respond when his phone rang with a FaceTime call. “It’s Cope. Maybe he butt dialed me?”
“It’s Everly,” Ten said with a smile. He had a feeling his little miss wasn’t going to be happy they’d been working the case without her.
“Hello?” Ronan answered.
“Hi, Dad.” Everly sounded as annoyed as she looked. “Is Daddy there?”
“He’s sitting next to me. Are you okay?” Ronan bit his lip.
“No. I’m mad. You’re going to see Miss Marie without me. I wanted to meet her, and now I won’t get the chance.” Everly looked as if she were ready to breathe fire.
“Why won’t you get the chance?” Ronan asked.
“Because Daddy’s gonna get her to cross over.” Everly sighed dramatically.
“I am?” Ten asked, taking the phone from Ronan. Everly’s revelation was news to him.
“Don’t give me that line of bull. Youknowyou’re going to speak to her.” Everly seemed absolutely sure of herself.
Ten snorted and started to laugh. How many times had he said that exact line? Of course, the last word was bullshitwhen Everly wasn’t around. “Actually, I didn’t know that. My gift is tangled with Joseph Whittaker and his turbulent mind.”
“Oh,” Everly said softly, sounding as if she knew what Ten was talking about. “I really wish I was there now.”
“Why?” Ten had a feeling he already knew the answer. Joseph Whittaker said he had six months left, but Tennyson knew it was going to be far less than that. “Do you know when he’s going to die?”
Ronan’s eyes widened with alarm.
“Saturday,” Everly said, her voice barely above a whisper. “All he wants is to be reunited with Miss Marie. I can feel his sadness. He’s the saddest person I’ve ever read before.”
Ten nodded. He’d felt the same way about Whittaker. “Is there anything I can do to get Marie to talk to me?” Any extra information he could bring to the spirit would help him make contact with her.
“Tell her you’re sorry about Jeremy.” All the anger drained from Everly’s face. She looked like she was about to cry.
“Who’s that?” Ronan asked.
