Devon dropped the phone into his lap and stared at the fire. It was a terrible time of the year to plan a prison break. Even down the hill where it rarely snowed, the temperatures were in the low 40s at night. Most criminals weren’t known for their IQs, though. He yawned.

  If he were going to break out of jail, he’d do it in the spring when the nights were more pleasant. It could rain, of course, but rain... He nodded off and dreamed about Mexican beaches.

  MOLLY: Okay, people, I was totally creeped out when Devon said he parked next to a khaki green Subaru at the grocery store. And this is a great segue to my question of the week: Should Fiona have told Devon about REK’s escape? Wouldn’t it be better to warn him than keep him in the dark? I get it, she wants to protect Caleb, but is silence the best way to do that? And, should Devon have told her about Myron’s threats? Would she be better armed if she knew about them?

  For the uninitiated, we have an excellent Facebook Group where we talk murder, psychology, predict the future, and whine about the past. We even have our own mystery—one apart from the podcast—that we dissect there. I’ll tell you more about that next week. Meanwhile, the link to the page is in the show notes. I’d love to hear your thoughts. Join me next time for more Murders Under the Sun.

  (cue music)

  VO: If you enjoyed this episode, please leave us a five-star review on your favorite podcast service—it really helps. Murders Under the Sun is edited by Jim Wilbourne, theme music is by Eclectic Blends, and I’m your host, Molly Shure.

  Part Three

  MURDERS UNDER THE SUN

  SEASON SEVEN; EPISODE TWO

  * * *

  MOLLY: Welcome back to Murders Under the Sun. I’m Molly Shure, your host.

  Tons of you commented about the secrecy between Fiona and Devon on Facebook this week, and I loved your enthusiasm. Having said that, though, I thought I detected a bit of hypocrisy in those answers.

  Most of you believed Fiona should’ve warned Devon about her half-brother’s escape from prison. However, some of those same people were sympathetic to Devon’s silence on the topic of Myron, the threatening husband.

  The reason you gave was that the half-brother might have headed up to Big Bear—as he did. While Myron would have no reason to go after Fiona. But how would Myron know Devon had taken Caleb to Big Bear? Wouldn’t the first place he’d send a thug be to Devon’s home?

  Why did I get the feeling sexism was at play? That you all assumed the role of family protector fell to Devon, and the little woman would fall apart if she learned someone was threatening her family.

  In my mind, Fiona was more justified in her silence than Devon. She assumed her half-brother would come after her at home, that he would have no way of knowing anyone was in Big Bear. Even Sylla thought he’d go to Dana Point if he didn’t head for the border.

  I’ll be honest with you, I started to get irritated with you guys for the first time since I started the show. I even used the “P” word—patriarchy—when I was telling Abby about it. But, thankfully for you, she knocked me off my high horse.

  She reminded me that you knew about the cons going to Big Bear. So, without realizing the flaw in your logic, you made assumptions based on that knowledge. Knowledge Fiona and Devon didn’t have.

  This brings me to another topic—the missing students from Cal State-Fullerton. For those of you new to the podcast, the recap is this. When I was in college, my roommate, Melissa Shilling, disappeared.

  The cops searched. Her family searched. I searched. It didn’t yield much information, but it did change my career trajectory. This is when I decided to become an investigative journalist.

  Fast forward to Season One of the podcast. I told this story on air without having any idea what would happen when I did. In retrospect, I should’ve known. True crime podcasts attract true crime junkies. True crime junkies want to solve crimes. It’s one of the reasons the police aren’t all that crazy about us.

  Anyway, listeners got involved. Since that time I’ve received many calls, emails, Facebook posts and messages about my story. Together, we uncovered two other students who went missing at the same time as Melissa—Raphael Jimenez and Ariana Blackstone. I’ve been in contact with Raphael’s mother and Ariana’s cousin, thanks to my audience.

  I don’t have time now to talk about everything I’ve learned, but I did want to use this case to illustrate the danger of making assumptions. At the time of Melissa’s disappearance, the police found out she’d recently broken up with her boyfriend. Even though they had no proof, they assumed he’d done something to her, and they stopped looking for her.

  This was a logical fallacy. Just because many—even most—murders are committed by romantic partners doesn’t mean that Melissa was murdered or that her ex did it if she was.

  We now know—thanks to you, the listeners—their theory was incorrect. It’s an important lesson. If we are going to get into the crime solving business, people, we need to learn the rules of logic. As you listen to this week’s narrative, notice how faulty assumptions get Devon and Fiona make and how much trouble it causes.

  But first up, is a diary entry from our con.

  The cabin had seen better days, but it looked good to me. I was hungry, tired, and I couldn’t stop shivering. Smoke curled from the chimney, which meant there was a fire inside. I knew the kitchen was stocked with food. I’d seen the man fill his cart at the market. And there were sure to be spare jackets and boots. I glanced down at my prison-issued tennis shoes that offered no protection from the wet and the cold. Yeah, the cabin looked good to me.

  I walked around the side of the house and found the kid sleeping in a bedroom. I watched him through the window for a while and let my thoughts flow like the ocean. I was only a little older than the kid lying there the first time I saw the Pacific. My mom took me. I thought it was the best place in the world.

  I lay in the wet sand and let the water cover me with its soft foam, then rush away like it had someplace important to go. A minute later, it would be back tickling my toes again. I liked it. Unlike my life, it was steady and predictable.

  So what was steady and predictable here? That’s what I needed to know. Patterns were power. The problem is, the man and the kid had only just gotten here, no time to get in a rut.

  Kids did like their routines, though. I had no personal experience with them, but I’d heard they got hungry at the same times, sleepy at the same times. This one probably ate lunch an hour ago then dropped off. I thought it would be best to introduce myself while the kid was sleeping and the dad was relaxed, but it would be a while before he was sleepy again.

  My body gave a convulsive shudder. Too long for me to stand here.

  I’d found a hoodie in the gym bag, put extra socks on my feet and used another pair for mittens, but I was cold to my bones. Either I walked onto the porch and knocked on the door right now, or I went back to the car to bide my time.

  I’d been warm most of the day. It might have been adrenaline, but I was afraid it was the fever. When the sun hid behind the clouds and the snow began falling, the frozen ache in my bones started up again.

  I gave the bedroom one more long look. What would it be like to be that kid? To be warm and full and sleeping in a bed with other people looking out for me. I shook my head. No point in thinking that way. Besides, I wouldn’t want to be that kid tonight. Nope. Not tonight. Tonight, I’d rather be me.

  The kid was the best bargaining chip I had. I knew his parents would do anything, give anything for him. Who knows why? Little kids put me in mind of little dogs—useless. The owners do it all, and for what?

  Big kids—especially boys, sons—I could see wanting them around, but in order to get the big ones, you had to put up with the little ones. Not hardly worth it when you could find yourself a fully grown man and strike a deal. Like me and Chuck.

  A cough wracked my body, and I thought about his last moments. Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best example. I wiped the spittle from my face before it froze. Didn’t matter what I thought anyway. What mattered was this kid’s parents would cut off their hands and feet to save him. Not that it would come to that. At least, I dearly hoped it wouldn’t.

  I turned around and trudged across the snow to the woods. I had work to do. I’d seen a helicopter or two circling the mountain. Just in case anybody was looking for that Subaru, I intended to camouflage it.

  The car was parked under the trees in a clearing. It was a pretty fair distance off the road, but better safe than sorry, as my grandma always said. I began pulling branches from nearby pines and laying them on top of it.

  Once the car was covered, I crawled inside to wait for night, for the kid to go to bed, and for the stars to come out. I had a plan. I thought it was a good one, but I wanted to check with the boys upstairs. I pulled the towels out of the gym bag, huddled under them, closed my eyes and let my mind drift away to the beach and those soft, predictable waves.

  MOLLY: What is his plan, people? It can’t be good. Thinking about him looking in the window on little Caleb makes my skin crawl. But while he’s holed up in the Subaru, let’s check in on Fiona and Devon.

  7.2.2

  FIONA

  Fiona aimed the remote at the television. She’d stayed away from the news all day on Saturday, not wanting to feed her imagination. It hadn’t been difficult at the studio, where she’d been distracted and busy. Her only tense moments until now were on the trail that morning. Not because she saw or heard anything, but because she hadn’t. She’d been more alone than she’d expected, with only the occasional mountain biker for company.

  She knew she had nothing to fear, not on the trail anyway. Crackers would have noticed if someone were hiding in the bushes, but fear wasn’t logical. False Expectations Appearing Real—she’d heard that acronym somewhere. It was clever. Too bad cleverness didn’t calm her nerves.

  Now she debated whether she should watch the news or not. If you’re scared of the dark, should you leave the lights on or turn them off and face your demons? She flipped on the set. Face them. She had to know if the police had learned anything about her half-brother’s whereabouts.

  The top story had to do with a wayward congressperson who’d upset his constituents in some way. Fiona left the sound on and walked into the kitchen to start her dinner. Crackers followed close behind.

  “You hungry, boy?”

  The dog smiled and wagged his whip-like tail so hard he almost lost his footing on the tile floor.

  “I guess you are.” She took the can of food she’d opened that morning out of the fridge, put a few spoonfuls into a bowl, topped it with the dry food Olivia had left for her, and set the whole thing on the floor. Crackers attacked it.

  Fiona stared into the fridge for a long moment, but nothing looked appealing. A body was found on the side of a fire trail off Highway 28, a man’s voice intoned from the living room.

  Local news. That’s what she’d been waiting for. She grabbed the end of last night’s bottle of wine from the counter and a glass and returned to the television. A serious-looking Hispanic man in a warm jacket stood against a backdrop of leafless scrub oaks. There were patches of white on the ground.

  “At this point, authorities are looking at this as a suspicious death, although it is possible that the man hiked onto the fire road and was overcome by natural causes.”

  The camera shifted to a lovely blond in the studio. “Could this have anything to do with the two men who escaped from San Bernardino County Jail yesterday, Miguel?”

  Miguel shrugged. “The police aren’t talking, Bethany. All I can tell you is that an investigation is underway.”

  “Who found the body?”

  “A police helicopter pilot noticed something suspicious while he was on patrol this morning and called it in.”

  “Thank goodness he did.” Bethany inclined her head solemnly. “Someone out there will be thankful for closure.” She paused for a moment, then smiled at the camera and said, “Local firefighters rescued a cat from a tree today, a very large cat.” A close-up of a mountain lion lolling over a branch filled the screen. “That story after these messages.”

  Fiona turned off the set, and silence wrapped around her. No news. Why weren’t the police talking about the prison break? Didn’t they usually sound the alarm long and loud, show pictures of the cons, ask for help from the public? For some reason, they were keeping this escape very close to the vest. Could it be embarrassment? The Orange County Sheriff’s department had lost two other inmates in the exact same way only a handful of years before. You’d think they would’ve learned from their mistake.

  The tap of claws on wood brought her out of her dark thoughts. She set her glass down and squatted until she was eye-level with the dog. “I’ll be sorry to send you home on Monday.”

  Crackers aimed a lick at her nose. She laughed and stood to get her face out of reach, but that moment of happiness quickly faded. What now? The evening stretched in front of her like the last ten miles of a marathon.

  She might not be hungry, but she needed to eat. She wandered back into the kitchen, stared into the refrigerator again, and decided on a veggie omelette. She pulled odds and ends from her vegetable drawer and began chopping.

  As onion sizzled in the pan, a thought struck her. She should call Gwen. Gwen Bishop had been her agent when the Real Estate Killer was active. She was the one who’d found the first body. Sylla might have told her about the escape, but she might not have. Gwen should know he was loose.

  Fiona turned the heat down on the frying pan and picked up her cell. The phone rang three times before Gwen answered. “Fiona? Gosh, long time. How are you?”

  She sounded so cheerful, Fiona hated to give her the bad news. “I’ve been better.” She inhaled, exhaled, then said what she’d called to say.

  The phone was silent for a long minute. “They don’t know where he is?” Gwen finally said, the cheer in her voice gone.

  “No. Somewhere between San Bernardino and here, I assume. But if they have any leads, they’re not telling me.”

  “What are they doing to protect you?”

  “They scheduled extra security checks on my house, but I don’t know how they’d know if something was happening inside.”

  “At least you have Devon. That should be some deterrent.”

  “I don’t, actually. He and Caleb are in Big Bear.”

  “Fiona.” Gwen’s voice rose. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

  “I’m not. I have Olivia and Davy’s dog with me.”

  “A dog is not enough. He’s dangerous, Fi.”

  “I know, which is why I called you. I don’t think he would have any reason to go after you, but... ”

  There was another long silence, then Gwen said. “No, I don’t think he does. He wasn’t after me to begin with.”

  “You have a house full?” Fiona said in a lighter tone.

  “I do.”

  “But I think you should be aware. Keep your eyes open.”

  “Definitely. Thanks for letting me know.”

  Her duty done, Fiona was anxious to get off the phone before Gwen turned the conversation to her safety again. “Well, I’ll let you go⁠—”

  Gwen interrupted her. “Why don’t you stay here? I can move Emily out of her room for a couple of days, at least until Devon and Caleb get home.”

  “No. Really. I have Crackers. The police are keeping an eye on me, and I’m heading to Big Bear on Tuesday. I’ll be okay.” She didn’t mention the gun. Guns made most people nervous. They used to make her nervous. Gwen said a reluctant goodbye, and they promised to meet for an outdoor coffee when all this was over.

  The quiet rang around Fiona when she disconnected. There was too much space for thinking when Caleb was gone. His constant chatter chased away her worries. There didn’t seem to be anything she could do to shut them up now.

  Was she being foolish? Should she go to Gwen’s? But how was that fair? Gwen had suffered at his hands once, and it had been no fault of her own. What if Fiona drew him to her home?

  Perhaps she should cancel all the client appointments for the next couple of days and head to Big Bear early? But if he were watching her, she’d lead him to Caleb and Devon. She wouldn’t put her family in danger.

  She moved to the frying pan, turned the heat up, and began cutting mushrooms. The clack of the knife on the cutting board was rhythmic and comforting.

  She didn’t see any way to keep both herself and others safe. Her half-brother was dangerous. He’d killed and would have kept killing if he hadn’t been arrested. During that time, she’d been terrorized. She hadn’t known who was committing the crimes, hadn’t understood why they seemed to revolve around the house she was trying to sell. Once she discovered the truth, her terror turned to anger.

  She tossed the mushrooms into the pan and grabbed a couple of eggs from the fridge. She’d been angry at her father for never telling her she had a sibling. Angry at the way that sibling had been treated. Angry because her father’s mistake had ultimately impacted her life. She beat the eggs faster with every memory. Her rage had abated when he’d been incarcerated, when she thought she could put the whole thing behind her, but now it flared hot and bright.

  She wasn’t going to run from her problems like her father had. She wouldn’t allow other people to pay the price for her family’s sins. If her father had stood up and faced the consequences of his actions...

  She scooped the vegetables from the pan and poured the eggs into it with abrupt movements. But he was gone. There was no point in going over and over the should-haves and shouldn’t-haves of the past. What mattered was now. Fiona was the only one left to right her family’s wrongs.

  If that means shooting my half-brother, so be it.

  That last thought was so startling, she stopped moving, spatula in hand. Was that why she refused to leave her home? Did she want to confront him?