The Only Girl Left Alive: The McClintock-Carter Crime Thriller Series: Book Three

by Susan Lund

  "Great," Tess said and sighed, folding her arms. "Did you find anything else with the bones? Any clothing or personal items?"

  "Can't say," he said with a soft smile.

  "I understand," Tess said with a smile. She knew she was already infringing on the investigation, and really wasn't supposed to be getting info about fresh evidence before the FBI even knew about it, but Frank was taking pity on her, given her situation.

  "Going to be pretty busy around here for a few days until this is all finished. They'll probably want to keep you out while the search is being conducted."

  "Okay," Tess said with another sigh. "I'll stay out of your hair. Thanks for letting me know why, though. It would drive me crazy not to know what you found."

  "Chief Hammond and Special Agent Nash will let you know what they can, out of courtesy, but they'll want to keep it wrapped up pretty tightly."

  Tess nodded and went back inside. She went to the kitchen and glanced around at the now much cleaner space, glad that she'd had some time to work on it before being kicked out of the house once more. Hopefully, the new evidence and resulting search wouldn't delay things by too long.

  She gathered up her bag and jacket and left the house, nodding to Frank as she walked down the driveway and across the street to Mrs. Carter's house. When she’d left earlier that morning, Mrs. Carter was planning on going to Kirsten's to visit the new baby, and Michael was going to spend some time at the police station talking to Chief Hammond about the stash of pornography found at John Hammond's property. She'd have some time alone and planned on working on her investigative piece for the Seattle Sentinel. She'd been fleshing out the outline, and planned on a five-part series, starting with Janine's case and ending with Patrice—but who knew how many other cases might be linked to the serial killer or killers operating out of Paradise Hill?

  The prospect of the bones belonging to Lisa sent a shiver up Tess's spine. Even if it wasn't her, it was some poor child, most likely a girl.

  She went to her list of missing children in Washington State.

  There were one hundred and eight currently listed on the website. Which one belonged to the bones found in her father's attic?

  There were six children who might fit the pattern—females, ten to twelve years old:

  Alicia Monroe, age eleven when she went missing three years earlier from Tacoma.

  Naomi Schultz, age eight when she went missing thirteen years earlier from near Kennewick.

  Carrie Ray Vega, age ten when she went missing six years earlier from Olympia.

  Kellie Carlson, ten when she went missing five years earlier from Seattle.

  Angel Lynch, eight when she went missing six years earlier from Spokane.

  And finally, Lisa Tate, ten when she went missing eighteen years earlier from Paradise Hill.

  Girls taken off the list due to the cases in Paradise Hill?

  Patrice. Zoe. Melissa.

  There were a few older girls who had gone missing around the time Lisa disappeared, but Tess wasn't sure if they fit the case. They were around thirteen or fourteen and had been known to be in the sex trade. Tess felt in her bones that they weren't part of the cases linked to Paradise Hill, but it was possible the killer had a wide range of ages he would accept.

  That made nine cases in total that might be linked to John and Garth Hammond and Daryl Kincaid. Ten, if you counted Janine, but Tess thought she was an accident—or the start of the entire business. Had John Hammond and Daryl Kincaid gotten a taste for killing through her? If so, she had to go even farther back, to the year Janine died, and that added to the overall number. There were five other unsolved disappearances of girls aged twelve to fourteen over that period.

  Tess thought those cases were unconnected, but she couldn't be sure. If there were two killers, they might have different tastes in age.

  She decided to focus only on the cases that were close to Melissa and Zoe's ages, instead of the older girls who went missing before Lisa. Someone, either acting alone or with accomplices, was responsible for their deaths, whether it was John or Daryl—or Garth. They might have killed at least nine young girls. Taken before they even knew what life was about, and one of their skeletons, or partial skeletons, had been walled up in Tess's father's house…

  Not that she really cared anymore, but she doubted anyone would want to buy her father's house knowing that a body had been hidden in the attic walls. Tess wouldn't, and she couldn't blame anyone else for not wanting to buy such a house either.

  Tess knew she could never sleep a night in the house even after it was all cleaned, renovated, and painted. She'd lie awake in bed and imagine the terror of the poor child whose bones had been hidden in the walls. What happened to her that led to her bones being there? Had she been used in the child pornography that John Hammond and Daryl Kincaid produced? Had they recorded her death and sold it on the black market as a snuff film? Tess could almost imagine the poor girl's terrified eyes.

  She glanced over the pictures of the five girls she had on her list. Which one was it?

  Was it Lisa?

  Tess remembered pretty little Lisa, with her fine bones and blonde hair, blue eyes and freckles on her nose. Wanting so much for Kirsten, the older girl and more dominant personality, to like her and allow her to hang out with them. She'd applied a My Little Pony temporary tattoo on her ankle the night she went missing, and that image—of a smiling blonde-haired Lisa proudly showing off the tattoo—that would stick in Tess's mind for the rest of her life.

  Tess could see her just as she had been that night and felt a knot in her stomach at the thought of her being the girl in the wall.

  While Tess was mulling over the cases, the door opened and Mrs. Carter walked in, a bag of groceries in her hand.

  "Hello, dear," Mrs. Carter said when she saw Tess. "I thought you were spending the morning cleaning at the house."

  "I planned on it, but they kicked me out when they found something in the attic," Tess said, glancing up from her files.

  "What?" Mrs. Carter asked while she removed her jacket and shoes. She placed the grocery bags on the kitchen island and came over to the dining room table where Tess was sitting. "What did they find?"

  Tess swallowed hard, uncertain if she should be telling what she had learned—but it would become public no matter what. In a small town like Paradise Hill, there was no way something like this could stay secret for long.

  "They found some bones walled up in the attic."

  "Bones?" Mrs. Carter's mouth fell open and she grabbed hold of the dining room table. "What kind of bones?" She pressed her hand against her chest. "A child?"

  "Yes," Tess replied. "The evidence tech I spoke with said it looked like a child."

  Mrs. Carter's eyes widened. "Do you think it's Lisa?"

  "God, I hope not."

  Mrs. Carter pulled out a chair and sat down, looking shaken by the news. She finally turned to Tess.

  "You know, I didn’t want to admit it before when you asked me, but your mother worried that your father was involved with Lisa's disappearance. How could the bones get into the wall without him knowing?"

  Tess frowned. "She said she never thought that. She just felt I wasn't safe here because of what happened to Lisa."

  "She was afraid your father was involved, Tess," Mrs. Carter insisted. "I know she denied it to you, but it was to make you feel better. She started to suspect your father when he was traveling for Hammond Cartage doing long-distance hauls. She told me their relationship broke down when she confronted him about staying overnight in Kennewick and not being home when she called. She thought he was seeing a woman there. Maybe prostitutes. That was always her fear, because it's so common among long-haul truckers."

  "That doesn't mean he was a serial child killer," Tess replied. "It means his marriage broke down or he cheated, which is what happens to half of all marriages."

  "Still," Mrs. Carter said, insistent. "When Lisa went missing, she said she was afraid that your dad, wa
s mixed up in some bad stuff with John Hammond. That's why she wanted to leave."

  Her father had been mixed up in some ‘bad stuff’ with John Hammond? Did that mean the pornography? Was the porn her dad's after all?

  That put Tess into a very dark mood. She'd been consoling herself with the thought that her father had been an innocent bystander in the coverup of Janine's death when they were teens. She'd concocted in her mind a story that her father had been an aspiring author who only wanted to write novels, and that his life had been irrevocably changed by Janine's accidental death and Daryl Kincaid's decision to burn the body instead of calling the police and confessing to the accidental death.

  Now, she'd have to rethink everything.

  Chapter Three

  Michael sat across from Chief Hammond, waiting while he spoke on the phone to his counterpart in Spokane. He'd dropped by for a visit, hoping to pick up whatever bits of news Hammond would provide, and as luck would have it, the man was in a talkative mood. Hammond had called the lab up in Seattle for results of the bloodstains found on items of clothing in John Hammond's yard.

  "You can fax it to me," the chief said, rubbing his forehead. "I'll take a look and see what we can do on our end. We have his work log for the five years he was driving that route. I'll check to see if he was near that area when she went missing. Yes," Chief Joe said and flipped through a few pages on his desk. "I have the list here. I can check right now."

  The chief found a sheet of paper and then ran his finger down the page. He stopped, peering closely at the entry through the reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.

  "Got it." Chief Hammond glanced up and met Michael's eyes. "Bingo."

  That could only mean one thing: Kincaid's work log and the date of the girl's disappearance matched or were close enough to suggest he had the opportunity to take her.

  A surge of excitement went through Michael.

  "Yes, he had a delivery in Spokane the previous day, so that means he had a full day to do whatever it was he did, abduct the girl, take her somewhere, and then drive back to Kennewick the next day. It all fits."

  Chief Hammond smiled at Michael, nodding his head. He gave Michael the thumbs-up sign and leaned back, his expression pleased.

  So that meant that Kincaid had been in the area on a delivery and had the opportunity to take the girl.

  That was two girls they could tie to Kincaid.

  Michael remembered his interview with Kincaid at Coyote Ridge. Kincaid seemed to have been reformed—or at least, wanted everyone to believe he was a changed man. He'd become a jailhouse preacher. A model prisoner.

  More than likely, he was just a practiced sociopath who knew how to fool the more gullible members of his prison community into thinking he was a pastor, interested in their immortal souls.

  "Okay, you do that. We'll keep you informed of anything else we find on our end. Thanks again."

  Chief Hammond hung up his phone and leaned back, his hands behind his head and a smile on his face.

  "We got the bastard," he said, his voice suitably pleased.

  Michael nodded. Kincaid was someone he could believe was responsible for all the cases. The man had always been suspicious, and had walked close to, if not crossing, the criminal line all his life. He must have gotten the murder bug when he’d disposed of Janine's body, and that started him on his life of crime.

  How many bodies were there? They'd seriously have to go all the way back to high school to see what else Kincaid had done. Every missing and underage girl in Washington State would qualify as a potential kill.

  The guys up in Seattle would have their hands full searching databases, checking old missing-person cases, poring through pornography for material he might have been involved in producing.

  Thinking of it made Michael wish he could end his medical leave and go back to his office in Seattle, but he doubted his supervisor would let him work the case. He was too close to it. Even Michael knew that, but this had been the motivation for his entire life. He was certain they'd find evidence linking Lisa's disappearance to Kincaid and Hammond.

  The Serial Killer Cousins. The Paradise Hill Killers… It would be a case they taught at the FBI school in Quantico. Michael could even imagine the way he'd teach it.

  He'd imagined finding the killer who took Lisa for years. Now it seemed they might be on the right track and would finally bring him—or them—to justice. Even though Michael wasn't directly involved in the case, working it with Nash and Chief Hammond, he felt connected and would feel almost as fulfilled as if he were.

  Maybe his guilt over his role in her disappearance might finally be absolved if they found out Kincaid had taken her for one of his and Hammond's porno films and she'd been killed the way poor Patrice had.

  Patrice's death did appear to be accidental. Maybe they hadn't planned on killing her that way. Whatever the case, it was pretty clear that the FBI and police would be able to pin a number of cases on Kincaid, and perhaps some on Hammond as well. The more they dug, the more evidence turned up.

  Chief Hammond got another call and picked up the receiver.

  "Yes," he said, his expression distracted as he flipped through the file in front of him. "What have you got?"

  Hammond listened for a moment and then glanced up at Michael, his eyes widening.

  "Well, I'll be goddamned… You're kidding, right?"

  He leaned back and watched Michael as he listened.

  "Guess we should get the forensic team back. Looks like we're not as close to being finished as we all thought. Okay. I'll speak with him."

  Hammond hung up the receiver and shook his head.

  "What?" Michael asked, truly intrigued and hoping that Hammond would continue to share info with him despite Michael being on leave. "Tell me."

  "I shouldn't," Hammond said.

  "I'm fine," Michael said, shaking his head. "Seriously. I feel great. Just some stiffness in the shoulder."

  "You were really sick, Michael. The infection. The injury…"

  "Tell me," Michael said with a laugh. "I'll go insane otherwise."

  "Okay, but this has to stay in this office and not go elsewhere. Not to Tess, and certainly not to your mom."

  "Consider my lips sealed."

  Hammond exhaled. "A tech was finishing up at Ron McClintock's house and noticed that several of the screws holding some particleboard into the wall in the attic had been removed and replaced, so he took off the board and found some bones. Human. Looks like a child’s."

  "Oh, God," Michael said, a sinking feeling enveloping him. "In the wall?"

  "Yep," Hammond replied. "Not a full skeleton, and there's no evidence that the body itself was there, but looks like the femur and pelvis, plus several other bones. Why would he keep a partial skeleton in his wall? Makes no sense."

  "Trophies make sense only to the killer. I wonder who it is. Do you suppose it's Lisa?"

  Hammond shook his head. "Who could say? It could be any of a half dozen girls who went missing in the past two dozen years. Until we test it for DNA, your guess is as good as mine. But what the hell was it doing in Ron McClintock's wall? I guess that nails Ron as being more involved than I thought. He just never struck me as the type to get involved in a murder, despite all the evidence found in his house. He was pretty housebound for the past five years, and injured for the last ten, so I never pinned him for Melissa or even Zoe, but you never know."

  "You don't," Michael said, nodding in agreement. "Sometimes, the killer is right under your nose and you can't see it for whatever reason. Killers blend in. They look like your neighbor or your brother-in-law, not like a depraved monster."

  "Isn't that the truth?" Chief Hammond replied.

  Michael hadn't meant to refer to Eugene, but his mind went immediately to the man when thinking of the average Joe who might go under everyone's radar. Michael had never liked Gene; he had violated every ethic about dating younger girls in high school. Sure, it was common for guys to date girls who were
two or three years younger. If you were a senior, it wasn't uncommon to date the cute sophomore, or even a really cute freshman, but someone still in middle school? No way.

  That was what Gene had done with Kirsten, and Michael had never forgiven the man for it, even after he’d married Kirsten after getting her pregnant. Michael had to grudgingly admit Gene had been a decent father and, as far as he could tell, had never been mean to Kirsten or the boys. Maybe he’d neglected Kirsten after the boys were born, but while that made him a scumbag, Michael knew that many married couples’ sex lives changed after childbirth. Some never recovered.

  Still, he disliked Gene, and could never shake the sense that Gene was a creep.

  "Well, I should go and leave you to your work," Michael said and stood, pulling on his jacket. "Let me know if there's anything I can do in an unofficial way. Any advice—anything at all."

  "I don't want to burden you," Chief Hammond said. "You need to look after yourself, young man. But it is nice to have someone to think through things with, someone who knows the terrain."

  "Anytime," Michael said. "It's hard for me to stay out of the cases, so when we speak about them, it makes me feel a little less useless."

  "I know the feeling. When I was laid up with pneumonia last year, I hated not being able to come into the office and at least read over the files. I'll call you when I have something interesting or need advice. Your dad and I were good friends and I know he'd be so proud of you and what you've accomplished since he died."

  Michael smiled, truly glad that Chief Hammond felt that way.

  Michael left the station and decided to walk the rest of the way home. It was a couple of miles, but the air was fresh, and the sky was clear. He'd been sitting around doing nothing much for a week and he needed the exercise, needed to get his strength back.

  While he walked, he thought about the case. He'd almost screwed up big by referencing his brother-in-law when talking about serial killers. Luckily, Chief Hammond hadn't made the connection, probably thinking of his own brother-in-law—Daryl Kincaid—instead of Michael's. Although Daryl had never married Chief Hammond's little sister, they had lived together and had been considered common-law partners before she died.