Chapter 16 - Nancy

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Grafton County Sheriff's Office

Haverhill, New Hampshire

Monday 10 March 2008

"Interesting," I muse, "And you found these where?"

"Actually, the family of the first deceased--James Monroe--found them in his room," Sheriff Reeves responds, "What do you make of it?"

"I don't know," I say, trailing off. I lean forward.

"We also found this," Reeves says, gesturing to another evidence bag, "on Donovan Hughe's body yesterday. Would have told you if I'd known, but the evidence got misfiled. Anyway. We are searching the house of the third vic, Martin Brackton, to see if there are any more of these notes. In this case, this is the smoking gun we've been looking for."

I chew on my cheek, not knowing what else to say.

The sheriff's phone rings. "Excuse me just a moment, Nancy," he says, running to take it.

I watch him leave, the door swinging shut behind him. There is always something about evidence storage rooms that makes me anxious. The bright lights? The chemical smell? The evil objects?

Swallowing down my unease, I carefully hold up one of the evidence baggies so I can take a better look at the contents. They are all notes, written with a typewriter on plain copy paper.

"'I enjoyed meeting you today, James,'" I mutter, reading one of the notes aloud, "'A local's perspective would greatly help my research. With your help, people will finally know the truth about the Lockwood Estates. Sincerely, Edward V.'"

I pick up another.

"'This seems to be the beginning of a wonderful correspondence. I appreciate you not mentioning these notes to me in public, and hope that you will continue to heed my warning. No one can know that you are helping me. Sincerely, Edward V.'"

I grab a third.

"'James. I need your help again. I would greatly appreciate it if you could meet me at the Lockwood Estate tonight at eleven o' clock tonight to help me with research. I could use a local's eyes. Bring a flashlight. Sincerely, Edward V.'"

I swallow and set the bags back down. I press my palms into the cool, metal table and screw my eyes shut. Edward Velasquez was working with James Monroe the entire time. It even looks as though he was the reason the guy went to Lockwood Estates that fateful night.

Is that why he was so guilty about James' death? Because he was, in reality, much more responsible for it than he originally let on?

Sighing deeply, I straighten. Edward Velasquez didn't seem like a cold-blooded killer to me. But these letters...

I pick up the last one, the one found on Hughe's body.

"'Mr. Hughes. Your skillset has come to my attention. I am doing research on the Lockwood Estates. Research that will make you rather richer than you are now, should you help me to complete it. I'll get right down to it. I had a young assistant named James Monroe. He said he was up to the task. He was wrong. But you are capable where he was not. Attached is the address and details I need you to record, as well as specifics considering your compensation. It must be an overnight visit, and it must be done without telling anyone. I will contact you afterwards to finish the transaction. Sincerely, Edward Velasquez.'"

I drag a hand down my face. That son of a bitch. Was he going to try to get me to the house next?

My stomach drops with the realization that, if the Winchesters were not there last night, that last body could very well have been mine instead of that other guy.

"Nancy."

I turn around. Sheriff Reeves is poking his head into the evidence room.

"We just brought Edward Velasquez back in. He's in interrogation room one."

----

"I didn't write those notes!"

"You do use a typewriter though, correct?"

"Yes, I do use a typewriter for my writing. But I had nothing to do with those notes, or with James' death! With any of those deaths!"

I chew on my lip, arms crossed. I am standing in the room adjacent to interrogation, watching through the one-way mirror.

"What d'you think, Nancy?" Sheriff Reeves asks.

"I don't know," I say honestly. "Something just doesn't seem right about this. If he wanted that research for his book, why would he kill the people he hired to help him? I mean, I'd believe that he was the reason they all went to Lockwood, but I just... I just don't see the motive for killing them."

"Mm," he says, shifting his weight. "He coulda snapped," he suggests, "Maybe he thought his book would get more publicity because of this 'haunting'."

"True," I admit, pinching my chin. "I just feel like there's something missing."

"Is there a way to test like the signature of a typewriter?" Edward exclaims, "Because I did not write those and I will even give you my typewriter to check!"

"There is, isn't there?" I ask the sheriff.

He nods. "Yeah. I'll get my guys on that ASAP." He walks away, talking into his radio to arrange it all.

----

"The typewriter isn't his." Sheriff Reeves slaps down a folder on the table in front of me, jerking me from my slight doze. I blink several times and pull myself upright. I have been hanging out in the breakroom waiting for results for a good two hours, trying to find healthy snacks in the vending machines and stay awake.

"It isn't?" I ask, hearing the sleepiness in my voice. I clear my throat. "It isn't?" I say again, much clearer.

He takes a seat and flicks open the folder. "No. The typewriter used to write the notes... well, in layman's terms, the lowercase 'e' has a slight deviation. Makes it slightly tilted compared to the other letters. Edward Velasquez' typewriter does not have that issue."

I lean my temple against my fist in thought. "So he was framed."

"Unless he has another typewriter stashed away..." he closes the folder, clasps his hands together, and locks gazes with me, "...yes. He was framed."

"By who?"

"That, Ms. Drew, is the million dollar question. But now we know that the motive was to get Mr. Velasquez framed for murder."

"Enough so as to go so far to kill three people trying to do it."

"We are looking at a serial killer, Nancy." He sighs, and puts a hand to his forehead. "Look. You're young. I can't in good conscience keep you on this case."

"With all due respect, sir, but I am not going anywhere." I lean forward. "I can solve this thing."

"I don't doubt you can. But... you're just a kid."

I straighten. "Sheriff Reeves, I may be just a kid, but you know my case record. I can, and I will, solve this."

"McGinnis warned me that you get like this. Determined. Stubborn."

"I'm not leaving this case, Sheriff," I say bluntly.

There is a long silence. I don't break eye contact.

He blinks first, lowering his head.

I set my jaw. "Sheriff." He looks back up at me. "I'm not leaving this case. But I do still need your help."

Reeves sighs in defeat. "What do you need."

"I need the addresses of all the vics' family and friends. Workplaces too. Oh! Can I also get some photocopies of those notes from Evidence?"

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