Rachel decides to talk to Wilbur, the former town mayor, hoping he might have some insight into the mysterious half-brother who had been speaking with Tim. As she pulls into the storage facility, she sees Wilbur in his garden at the back, a shovel in hand and completely covered in grime. He must really dig his work, she thinks, chuckling at her pun.
"You've really outdone yourself this year," Rachel says, eyeing the lush spread of produce.
"I wanted to make sure I have enough vegetables for the festival," Wilbur replies, brushing dirt from his clothes and then running his fingers through his thin, graying hair.
Rachel picks up a ripe tomato and twirls it in her hand. "I don't think I've ever seen vegetables grow this big."
"The new fertilizer I bought guarantees your crop will double in size."
"I'd say it's working then." She flashes him a smile before getting down to business. She finds it puts people more at ease handling things this way. Which in turn will get them to open up.
"So, what can I do for you, Sergeant?"
"I have a few follow-up questions about the disappearances, if you don't mind."
Wilbur nods. "I'm always willing to do what I can."
"Do you remember Angela Muller?"
His eyes light up at the mention of her name. "Oh yes. She was an angel—loved by everyone."
"It sounds like you cared about her."
"Everyone did. She came to the house nearly every day to play with my little sister. I used to tease her all the time—stealing her doll so she'd chase me, tugging on her blonde pigtails just to hear her yell."
"Sounds like you had a little crush on her."
"I did, though I'd never admitted it. She kissed me on the cheek once, and—being a stupid young lad—I jumped up and yelled, 'You gave me cooties!' And ran away."
Rachel laughs. "Typical boy. She gets the courage to kiss you, and you shut her down."
Wilbur sighs. "Stupid move, I know. She wouldn't talk to me for weeks after that."
"You probably broke her heart."
"That's what my mom said too, so I picked a few flowers from our garden and gave them to her."
"That was sweet of you."
"Not really. There was a bee in them, and it stung her."
"Oh no!"
"Yeah, and just when she finally decided to start talking to me again, too."
Rachel chuckles. "So what happened?"
"She ran to my mom and told her I did it on purpose. I got grounded for a month, and Angela never spoke to me again. Next thing I knew, she was pregnant and married to that poor excuse for a husband."
"You didn't like him, I take it?"
"No one did. Damn abusive drunk. He'd come home from the bar and beat on his wife and kids. Then one night, he went too far and killed Angela—disappearing shortly after."
He disappeared alright, but it wasn't of his doing, Rachel thinks.
"I have a few pictures to show you." She pulls up an array of photos on her phone and hands it to Wilbur. "These men—the others who disappeared—do you know if they were abusive too?"
Wilbur studies the images. "These two, for sure," he says, pointing. "The others, I'm not so sure about them."
"Did they hang out together?"
"They were at Charles' Bar nearly every night. I drove a cab back then, so most nights I was their ride home. See, Charlie had this policy—keys for a drink. The only way to get them back was either to have a designated driver or prove you were sober enough to drive."
"I bet that caused fights."
"Not really. Charlie is a big guy. He can hold his own. He's also an ex-pro boxer, so most folks were scared of him." Wilbur pauses, then adds, "I take that back. There was one guy, Lloyd Cummings; he tried to fight him and ended up in intensive care. Charlie has a picture of Lloyd in the ambulance on the bar wall claiming the photo is up there as a reminder of what happens if anyone gets out of line."
Rachel pictures Charlie in her mind and chuckles. "I can see that. Now, getting back to the Mullers—do you know if William Muller had any kids on the side, besides his two wives?"
"There was a rumor around town that Jenny Abbott was pregnant with his kid. But I'm not sure how true that is. See, Jenny liked to bed-hop, if you know what I mean."
"So, did she have this baby?"
Wilbur nods. "A little boy, late December of '76. She and the baby—Tony—left shortly after he was born. No one's seen either of them since."
"Does she have any family?"
Wilbur shakes his head. "She was orphaned at a young age and placed in foster care."
"Well, thank you for your time, Wilbur. If you remember anything else, be sure to give us a call."
"I will, Sergeant."
Climbing into her car, Rachel grabs her phone. "Jerr, I need you to look something up for me. The name is Tony Abbott, and his birthday is December 1976."
"I'm sorry, Serge, nothing comes up."
"Try Tony Muller."
"Found a Tony Abbott Muller. I'm sending you his address now. Also sending you a photo Kirk pulled from the hospital security tape. He says it's too grainy to get a positive ID, but it might be useful face-to-face."
Her phone pings. "Got it, Jerr. Thanks."
***
Rachel pulls up to what looks like a dilapidated tool shed, the only structure this far out. She glances around and then recalls the fork in the road a few miles back. Did I take a wrong turn? The sergeant checks the address Jerry sent her against the faded numbers on the building—she's in the right place. Hmm.
Climbing out of her car, she takes a cautious look around. This would be the perfect place for a killer. Keeping one hand on her holster, she navigates the overgrown yard.
She knocks firmly on the door. "Berryville PD." Silence.
She knocks again, harder. "Berryville PD! Open this door now!" Her command echoes in the quiet, but no response comes.
A large picture window catches her eye. Stepping over, she peeks inside.
The dark, one-room cabin is sparsely furnished—a rusty bed, a battered dresser, a nightstand, and a worn leather chair slumped in the corner. A makeshift kitchen is in the back of the cabin, and what looks like a cramped restroom is off to the right.
Guess I'll wait in the car. She's preparing to leave when something catches her eye. A partially covered figure lies on the floor between the dresser and the bed. .
She taps on the glass, but it doesn't move.
Alarm shooting through her, Rachel rushes to the door as she draws her gun. "Berryville PD! I'm coming in!"