"You will need to do that," May said politely. "I'd like proof."

  "You really are suspicious, aren't you?" He glowered at her.

  "We are looking for the truth," she said. "This is a murder investigation. The only reason we are talking to you is because you are a suspect."

  "The truth is I don't need to murder people to get my message across."

  "Then you shouldn't have a problem proving it," she reasoned.

  He stared at her and she thought he wanted to fight further but couldn't think of an angle.

  "We are going to stay here until we can confirm it," she pushed.

  He sighed. "I can get my phone. It's inside?"

  "We need to come in with you," May agreed, feeling ready for any further evasion.

  He turned and went inside.

  Following closely into the house which smelled of wood smoke, looking to keep an eye on him, May saw that the living room was more of a business center, and it was well equipped with a large computer and a laptop, a big television, and speakers. Glossy furniture completed the setup.

  She guessed that this blog, flaky as it was, must be lucrative. Presumably it brought him the income he needed to live well.

  May didn't know if he was really going to be able to prove that he had been elsewhere at the time one of the crimes was committed, and she was ready to act if he didn't. She was very ready for him to grab a weapon and try to surprise them. But there was something in the confidence with which he’d responded that rang true to her, and that was making her uneasy.

  He opened a drawer of the mahogany desk that the laptop was resting on, and took out his phone.

  "See here," he said, turning the phone to May and Owen. His voice rang with righteous innocence. "Here's my massage booking. I get very stiff shoulders from working on a computer most of the day. You can see it's a regular appointment, and here's where I paid for it."

  He scrolled further. "Here's the appointment to fix up that solar panel. And there's the message showing the payment to the Wi-Fi company."

  May looked at all the messages and proof very carefully because she did not trust this man, or his version. She thought he might not be lying, but he also wasn’t admitting to the whole truth.

  He’d known details he should never have known. As May thought furiously, she guessed what must have happened, and how he had known. And that meant there was still a chance to use him to track the killer.

  “Unfortunately, Mr. Franklin,” May told the blogger in firm tones, “we have reasonable proof that you have knowledge of this crime that you could not realistically have had. You know details that have not been shared on the news. So I am going to give you one last chance, now. Show me how you knew those details,” she challenged him.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  May waited for Franklin’s answer, staring at the blogger sternly. She was going to insist on proof now. She was intent on drilling down to the truth.

  “I – er – I was called by someone,” he said, his voice a lot weaker than when he’d last spoken.

  “Show me the call,” she insisted. “You said you were home alone all day today so you couldn’t have spoken to anyone personally.”

  “Maybe I was wrong about the call,” he mumbled.

  May had given him his fair chance. He’d been unable to provide the reason, and that meant he was hiding it. And she was sure she knew what it was. May had a hunch, now, that the killer had gotten in touch with him through his blog. He was one of the many that Franklin had boasted got in touch with him and sent emails. The only thing she didn’t know was whether he’d been a ‘subscriber’ who would have received a reply.

  "I need to see your emails," she told him firmly.

  "My emails?" Now, he sounded taken aback.

  "Yes."

  He hesitated, looking shifty, looking at her as if weighing up whether she was going to get away with this. And then he shrugged.

  “Sure. Take my phone, if you must! Read through it!”

  May blinked. And then, she realized this was a clever piece of misdirection. By inviting them to take the phone, he was hoping they wouldn’t search the device where she now thought those messages really were.

  She looked at the laptop. "We’re going to need to look at that too, Mr. Franklin. It may have information that we need.”

  Sure enough, that caused the explosion she’d been expecting.

  “My laptop? That’s what I used to write my blogs! I’m sure this is not legal! Don’t you need a warrant? I want to call my lawyer, now! I have personal information on those devices and I don’t want you rooting through it!”

  “We’re not interested in personal information. We’re interested in certain correspondence that we believe has been made between you and the killer,” May said, keeping calm. “If you can show us that now, it’s all we need.”

  She didn’t think he would be willing to and he wasn’t.

  “I get thousands of messages! Thousands! And you expect me to remember one that probably doesn’t even exist?”

  “That’s fine. We don’t expect you to. We’ll do the heavy lifting on our side,” May reassured him.

  Now, she could see, there was a light sheen of perspiration on Franklin's forehead. They were drilling down to the truth, she was sure of it.

  "They go into a number of different folders. Most of them are junk. I - I hardly ever read them -"

  Franklin's nervousness was telling her they were on the right track, and that somewhere in this no-doubt massive inbox, there was some communication with the killer. But she thought that it was likely to be very well hidden.

  In the back of her mind, May racked her brain for the correct protocol that could be followed to do this correctly.

  "We're not going to be able to go through all those messages while we are here," she said, looking at him carefully, seeing how he reacted to her words.

  "Well, that's a pity," he said, but his shoulders relaxed and he looked vastly relieved. "That's a real shame. It is late. Never mind. You can come back tomorrow. I'll still be here of course."

  "We won't need to come back tomorrow," May said.

  "Oh, good! Well, that's even better. No problem at all -" he began. Then he saw May's face and his voice trailed off into silence.

  "We won't need to come back, because we're going to seize this laptop and take it into police custody, and check it for evidence," May said. “Your phone, too.”

  "But you can't do that!" he spluttered.

  "I think you will find we can," May said calmly. "The fact that you knew details about the crime that were not public knowledge, and the fact that you are running a blog in which acts of violence are not only mentioned but are in fact incited, gives us enough cause to take this laptop now. There's a real risk that if it's left in your possession, you will delete the evidence."

  “But you need a warrant! Don’t you?” he asked.

  May was pleased that Owen had obviously been straining his memory for the correct protocol to follow as well, because he spoke confidently.

  "We won't search the emails until we have obtained a warrant, and we'll do that first thing in the morning," Owen said. "No evidence will be admissible without a warrant being obtained, but unfortunately if we leave the devices here, there might be no evidence left. The law makes allowance for that. We have the right to prevent evidence from being destroyed. So you can be sure we're following the law."

  May picked up the laptop. Owen took the phone.

  "But - my blog is run from there! My life is on there!"

  "We'll return it to you tomorrow, if we’ve found what we need by then," May said calmly. “You have a vehicle and you can use a neighbor’s phone if you need one.”

  "You can't do this!" he wailed. "You can't take it away. You can't do that."

  "If you are innocent, you have nothing to worry about," May said.

  "My whole life is in there! You can't take that away from me!"

  Franklin had started to shake, was making a low, keening sound, and she thought that he looked as if he was about to cry.

  “This is a murder investigation, and we have to do what it takes.”

  She turned and headed to the front door and Owen followed her.

  "I'm going to sue you," Franklin was saying, following them to the front door. "I'm going to sue you. This is illegal, I'm going to sue you; you're going to be sorry -"

  "Don't worry," she said. "We'll be back tomorrow, and then we'll talk about it."

  Then Owen was steering out of the door, and May was bringing up the rear, with the laptop bag over her shoulder.

  May got on the phone before they even reached the car.

  "Jack," she said, as soon as the sheriff picked up.

  "May. What's up?" Her boss sounded stressed. A phone was ringing in the background.

  "We've seized a laptop and phone that we believe has evidence of the crime. The witness knew things he shouldn't have. There's a strong chance he's been communicating with the criminal. We had enough reason to seize it but we're going to need a search warrant to use the evidence we find on it."

  "I'll organize that for you first thing," Sheriff Jack promised. "I'll send you through the necessary paperwork now."

  "Thanks, Sheriff," May said.

  “One other thing,” Jack said. “I need a favor.”

  “Sure. What can I do?” May asked.

  “There’s a media conference, and town meeting, scheduled for nine p.m. at the police station. I’m still wrapping things up after a robbery in Lakeview. It never rains, but it pours.”

  “You want us to handle the media?” May asked.

  “Yes. I’d really appreciate it. I don’t want to be late for such an important conference."

  May checked the time. "We can be there by five to nine, if we hustle,” she said.

  “Thanks, May.” Jack sounded relieved.

  They got into the car.

  "So, that's it for tonight?" Owen said. “Just the press conference, and then we’re done?”

  “Just the press conference?” May echoed, feeling her stomach twist with nerves.

  She’d rather have been hunting a killer than facing down the media with no clear answers. She had a nasty feeling that this was not going to go according to plan.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  May didn't like the look of the faces as she pulled up outside the police station and saw the gathered media and residents waiting outside the building, wrapped in coats on this cold but clear night. People were angry, and they were scared, and they had every right to be.

  This crime was making waves; it was causing anxiety, and May knew she and Owen were the ones who had to put out the fires - as best they could.

  Even though this was the worst challenge she’d ever dealt with, May knew that it would bring some comfort to people to hear the latest updates. But she would have to be very careful what she said. Some details could not be revealed.

  She greeted the journalists she knew personally. There were a few media representatives from the local papers, websites, and magazines, as well as local bloggers - some she knew and some were strangers - and a few of the townsfolk had also come along to hear what the police had to say. There were a few familiar faces there, too. In fact, with a start, May saw her parents there. Even they had come out to listen to the briefing.

  Her mother was like that, May knew. She was a community focused person who always liked to know what was happening. If she hadn't been her mother, May might have thought of her as a gossip. But she wasn't, of course.

  She wished she’d had more time to prepare for this, but that wasn’t a luxury they had right now. Nerves twisted inside her as she climbed the five stairs, standing on the top step where someone from inside had organized a microphone.

  “Testing,” May said nervously, hating how her voice boomed around the assembled throng. It was probably about sixty strong, but to May it felt like six hundred.

  She hated these conferences. Public speaking made her very nervous, especially in these circumstances. It was so difficult to know what to say when a killer was on the loose. It was much easier to give a conference when the case was wrapped up, but now it was what people wanted, and they deserved answers.

  And now was an opportunity for her to give them information on keeping themselves safe, hopefully to save lives.

  "As you no doubt know by now," May began, "there have been two murders discovered today, with the victims’ bodies found in the natural beaver dams in and near Eagle Park. One of the victims is local resident Faye Miller, whose next of kin has been notified. Another is an as yet unidentified man, probably in his thirties."

  Murmurs of shock went around the crowd. May saw a few people looking over their shoulders nervously.

  "Could you tell us more about that?" a media representative from a local paper called out. “Why’s he not yet identified?”

  “The scene was very recently discovered,” May said. “And this victim was found just outside the park. If a family member or a colleague is not at home or work, please file a missing person report so that we can help identify this man.”

  “How were they killed?” someone else called out angrily.

  "There are details of the scenes that we're not making public as yet," May said. She hated withholding information, too, but it was necessary. Events just now, in the Nature Nurture blogger's house, had shown how information that had not been shared could help them achieve a breakthrough.

  "Why?” Now the crowd was getting seriously aggressive.

  “Because certain details might be known only to the killer, or people close to him," May continued. "The victims did not deserve to be killed, and the thought of a killer at large, now, in our town, is frightening for us all. However, I would like to reassure you that we are doing everything possible to make sure that this killer is caught as soon as possible."

  Owen continued. "We are going to be actively policing the park area, and we are going to be putting roadblocks in different locations throughout the night. We ask for your patience here, because we need to make sure that this killer can't travel as he pleases."

  "Do you know what this killer looks like?" someone asked.

  "We don't have a description as yet," May said.

  "But why not?" the woman who'd asked the first question complained, her voice angry. "Why can't you tell us? I mean, there are cameras, and all?"

  To May's surprise, her mother, who was standing nearby the woman, tapped her on the shoulder.

  "If they knew what he looked like, they'd say," she said. "They don't, so they can't. I’ve walked in that park and there are no cameras anywhere except in the parking areas. It’s the wilderness!"

  “Oh, okay,” the woman said to May’s mother.

  "We are already in possession of important evidence," May said. "We are working toward cracking this case as soon as we can. However, in the meantime, we would appreciate any help or leads from the public. Please stay calm and alert at all times. If you see anyone acting suspiciously, or anything out of the ordinary, please contact us. If you want to share any information with us anonymously, you can do so. And here is the hotline number."

  She read it out twice, loudly and clearly, hoping that someone would call it with information, although what invariably seemed to happen was that people called it with questions.

  "The other thing I'd like to emphasize is that until this killer is caught, the entire Eagle Park area must be treated with caution. We can't close the park, but we can ask people to please not walk in or near the park on their own. Go with someone and be cautious of strangers."

  As she said that, she felt a chill of unease, because in this small town area, it was likely that the killer was not a stranger to everyone, and that some people might even know who he was.

  Murmurs and mutters rippled through the crowd.

  "We believe the murders are linked, and both are likely to have been committed by the same person," May said. "We are now proceeding on the assumption that the person who committed these crimes is a male. We suspect that the killer is local but there is a chance that he might be from outside the area. We don't want to alarm people unnecessarily, but we do want to urge everyone to be cautious and aware until this case is closed."

  "Thank you for your help," someone called, which made May feel better.

  But others were still furious.

  "Why can't you prevent these crimes?" a man shouted angrily.

  Owen took the mike from May.

  "Sir, unfortunately, a crime like this, that takes place in a very isolated area and is carefully planned, can't always be prevented. But what we can do is find the killer." Now, Owen's voice was filled with passion even though May realized he was straying from their usual mandate.

  "Whoever commits murders like this and takes the lives of innocent people, in my book, is a monster.” Passionately, he surveyed the crowd. “And monsters deserve to be hunted down and punished," he said. “We are not going to let this evil, criminal person get away with it. Not on our watch. I promise all of you that we are going to catch this killer, this sadistic murderer, and he will be punished to the full extent of the law."

  Owen had just been emotional, and his words were likely to have consequences that he hadn't considered. But, at the same time, there was a cheering thing about them and to May's surprise, most people in the crowd started applauding. It was as if they felt encouraged by Owen's oversharing of his feelings; and that wasn't a bad thing, May hoped.

  The crowd dispersed after that, with people speaking quietly as they headed for their cars, and May and Owen went inside.

  "That was quite an emotional speech," she said to Owen.

  "I was angry. With everything that is going on, you know," Owen replied.

  May remembered, with a twist of her stomach, that there was a lot going on. For example, she hadn't yet replied to his marriage proposal, and now was not the time. The moment had passed, and she wasn't sure how to bring it back again.