A Minute to Midnight

by David Baldacci

  Inside, the atmosphere was tense.

  Pine and Blum stood next to the body. It still had the uniform on, since the forensic techs were completing their work and taking their pictures.

  The victim was around ten, male, and Hispanic.

  Pine looked down at the pair of large brown eyes that could no longer see a thing. Perhaps their last captured image had been that of their owner’s killer.

  “Murder is always upsetting,” murmured Blum, looking away. “But when it’s a child.” She said nothing else, she didn’t have to.

  Laredo and Detective Wallis were consulting with a couple of uniformed deputies. Lily, the shaken museum attendant, had been allowed to go home after giving a full account.

  She said she had come into the museum, just like any other morning. She had put away her purse and made a cup of tea. She had started to work on a display in the back of the main room when something caught her eye.

  She had told them, “The mannequin was white. This…this one wasn’t.”

  They had figured out how the body had been propped up: A harness was under the uniform jacket and it had been attached to a bolt in the wall.

  In Pine’s mind’s eye she kept seeing the little soccer girl, Holly. Pine had managed to save her life, but not this little boy’s. She rubbed at her eyes, trying to clear both them and her brain.

  It didn’t work.

  Laredo walked over to her.

  “No forced entry. Lady left last night around six thirty. Perp would have had to have a key.”

  Pine nodded. “Front entrance has a security camera attached to the porch roof. I noted that on the way in. There’s a back entrance. He would have had to come in that way carrying the victim. He would have had plenty of time to arrange…” Pine fell silent and looked down at the child.

  “Right,” said Laredo, following her gaze.

  “Any line on the victim?” asked Pine.

  “Not so far. Early days yet.”

  “We’re running out of days. This guy isn’t going to stop because we can’t keep up.”

  Wallis rejoined them. “This is awful. A kid.” He shook his head.

  Pine nodded. “I asked Lily if she had seen anyone acting strangely or someone in the museum she didn’t recognize. But of course with the Civil War reenactment coming up the place is going to be flooded with out-of-towners. In fact, she told me the museum has been pretty full the last few days.”

  Laredo said, “Hey, you think maybe his mom or dad is involved in the porn industry?”

  Pine said, “If so, you’d think they’d notice their kid missing. I’d circulate his picture all over. Somebody has to come forward.”

  Laredo said, “First, a lonely spot on the main road, only a few blocks from here. Then the cemetery. Now this place.”

  “What about Beth Clemmons?” interjected Blum.

  “I don’t see her as part of the vic pattern,” said Pine. “She was a threat. That was why she was killed. She wasn’t dressed, or laid out. She was just murdered to keep her quiet.”

  Laredo shook his head. “But we found out they acted in films together from another source. We didn’t need Clemmons for that.”

  “Which logically means that Clemmons knew something else that was important.”

  “Then she had to die,” said Blum. “As soon as Gillespie did. Because the killer would know that, sooner or later, we would come back to question her about it.”

  “Exactly.”

  Wallis said, “I’ll go see about getting the boy’s description circulated along with a sketch of his face.” He looked down. “We’ll have to use this image of him. We don’t have another.”

  Laredo said, “And we can also have it put through our databases.”

  “And the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children,” added Pine.

  Wallis nodded and moved off.

  Blum came to stand next to Pine, who said quietly, “The perp is moving off his original theme.”

  “You mean first a veil and then a tux?”

  “But he dressed the boy in a costume from this place, and—” Pine stopped, fixed her gaze on the body, and knelt down next to it.

  One of the techs who was taking a photo said loudly, “Hey, I’m trying to get scale photos here, if you don’t mind.”

  Pine gazed up at him with such a look that he quickly stepped back and started nervously fumbling with his camera.

  “What is it?” asked Blum, squatting next to Pine as Laredo looked over Pine’s shoulder.

  Pine had put on a pair of latex gloves and carefully undid the collar of the jacket on the body. She had just noticed the thin line of silver chain around the neck. She slid it out from under the clothing and held it up.

  “It’s a St. Christopher’s medal,” observed Blum.

  Pine nodded. “Yes it is.” She slid her finger around a part of the medal that had been damaged. “Look at this jagged edge. Something hit it hard enough to rip the metal.”

  “Do we know cause of death on the boy?” asked Blum.

  “No, but there are no obvious wounds. And no signs of strangulation. His neck has no ligature marks.”

  “Poison, then?”

  “I don’t know.” She studied the boy’s head. “But his neck is at an odd angle.”

  “You think it’s been broken?” said Laredo.

  “Could be.”

  She called the photographer over and had him take a series of photos of the medal.

  Wallis had rejoined them by this time. Pine pointed out the medal to him.

  “You think it was part of the original costume here, or did it belong to the kid?” asked Wallis.

  “Or did the perp put it on him?” said Pine.

  Laredo said, “Lily reported that the uniform was taken from a mannequin on display. It was found in the back.”

  “But I think she’ll confirm that this St. Christopher’s medal isn’t part of the costume.”

  “Is that your gut?” said Wallis. “It could belong to the boy.”

  “No,” said Laredo. “She’s going by the perp’s pattern. He dressed the two adults. And he dressed this one, whether he brought the clothes or not.”

  Pine said, “But he added this. He didn’t add anything to the other two vics, at least that we could find, other than dressing them as bride and groom.”

  “So he’s subtly changing his pattern,” noted Blum.

  “It looks to be that way.”

  “Serial murderers don’t usually do that midstream,” observed Laredo. “You know that.”

  Pine nodded. “Most don’t. But some do. And keep in mind that we don’t really know what his pattern or motive is. It may still be evolving. So we could look at this death and this crime scene and say the guy’s changed his MO, but, to him, he’s right on schedule.”

  Wallis said, “I can see why you used to do this for a living. You seem to be able to get inside their heads.” His face twitched. “Better you than me.”

  “It’s not a place I want to be, either,” said Pine. “But I’ll go there if it gives us a shot at bringing this guy down.”

  Laredo looked at her and nodded in understanding.

  Wallis said, “I’ll check with Lily about the medal. But if it turns out to have been added, what does that mean?”

  In answer Pine pulled out the medal she wore around her neck. “St. Christopher was the patron saint of travelers. Legend has it that he carried a child safely across a river only to find out later that that child was Christ. Ever since then he’s been known as sort of the protector of people on a journey.”

  “Well, he failed miserably with this child,” said Blum sharply.

  “You may be looking at it the wrong way, Carol,” said Pine.

  Laredo eyed her steadily. “And what would be the right way?”

  “If we could find out how this medal got damaged, I might be able to answer your question.”

  “You really think it’s important?” asked Wallis.

  “It might
be the most important thing we’ve found so far.”

  Chapter 47

  WHO, IF ANYONE, gave you your St. Christopher’s medal?” asked Blum.

  They were walking back to the Cottage.

  “My mother,” said Pine. “It was the last thing I ever got from her.”

  “You mean she gave it to you before she disappeared?”

  “She obviously knew she was going to leave me,” said Pine matter-of-factly. “I guess this was her parting gift. You know, sort of, ‘I won’t be around to watch over you, so take this hunk of stupid metal instead’ sort of thing.”

  “Why do you wear it then, if you feel that way?” Blum asked.

  “Because it’s really all I have to remember her by. And…and so it’s important to me. Sort of a love-hate thing. Part of me touches it, and I feel that she abandoned me. Then I touch it another time and part of me feels warm and safe, as though I was six again and my mother was holding my hand.”

  Blum nodded thoughtfully. “Mother-daughter relationships are complicated. Maybe the most complicated of all. At least they were for me. My sons were a breeze by comparison.”

  The medal found on the body had already been dusted for prints and none were found. In Pine’s mind that made it even more important. Someone had taken the time to wipe it clean.

  “I’m hoping the forensics people can tell us how that medal was damaged.”

  “You really think it’s important? Like Wallis suggested, it could have belonged to the boy and was damaged while he had it.”

  “No. If you noticed how it was damaged, a sharp edge of the medal was bent inward. It would poke into the skin. There were no marks like that on the boy’s neck. And you’re not going to wear something that cuts into you anyway.”

  “So it was probably added by the killer.”

  “It was personal, Carol, I’m convinced of that. An object like that inherently is. It was worn by someone, someone important in some way to the killer. It’s a direct clue, if we can only find out how.”

  “Lee?”

  They looked up to see Agnes Ridley standing in front of the Cottage.

  “Is it really true?” said Ridley. “Another murder?”

  Pine and Blum walked up to her. “I’m afraid so,” Pine replied, nodding. “This time it was a little boy.”

  “Oh my God,” exclaimed Ridley. “A child? That doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

  “We have no idea what the killer’s motivation is,” pointed out Pine. “So we have no idea what his target list encompasses.”

  “Do they know who the child is?” asked Ridley.

  “Not yet. They’ll be circulating a description and a sketch of him. Are there any kids missing from around here?” she asked.

  “Not that I know of. And you’d think if the child was local, the parents would have already alerted police that they were missing.”

  “Yes, you would.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” asked Ridley.

  “Keep your eyes and ears open. Anything suspicious, call the cops.”

  They entered the Cottage to find Graham waiting for them in the front foyer.

  “Good Lord, what is the town coming to?” she wailed, as soon as she caught sight of them.

  “Why did Lily come here first?” asked Pine. “With everything going on, I forgot to ask her that.”

  “Lily knew you were staying here,” Graham replied. “That’s the first thing she could think of when she saw what she did in the museum.”

  “What exactly did she tell you?” asked Blum.

  “That a dead boy was dressed up in one of the uniforms and put out on display. She nearly fainted, she said. Then she lit out from the museum and ran all the way here.”

  “How long have you known Lily?”

  “Nearly all my life. She’s worked in the museum for a long time. Doubt she’ll ever be able to go back now.”

  “The mannequin that the killer replaced with the boy was found in the back room. That’s where we think he got access. But he must’ve had a key. There was no forced entry. Any idea how he might have done that?”

  “Someone could have had a duplicate key made to the back door, I guess,” said Graham. “I doubt that Lily watches her purse every second. And she’s told me in the past that the back door lock has never been reliable. She was going to get it repaired, but I guess she hadn’t gotten around to it.”

  “She might want to get around to it now,” said Pine. “The place also had a security system. We know it was on when Lily came to work, because she told us she had to turn it off. Which means the killer would have had to have the code. Would it be easy to get?”

  “I don’t know. I do know they’ve never had anything like this happen before.”

  “Well, that’s no longer the case, is it?” replied Pine.

  Chapter 48

  LOOK, ABOUT LAST NIGHT,” began Laredo.

  He and Pine were sitting in the breakfast room at the Cottage. Blum had gone to her room.

  “Nothing needs to be said,” said Pine curtly.

  “You don’t think so?”

  “We had some drinks and we danced. So what?”

  He let out a long breath, the contrition clear on his features. “I’m sorry, Atlee. I’m being an idiot.” He paused. “It was just…”

  “Just what?”

  “I guess the drinking and the dancing and…”

  “I didn’t mean to lead you on. If you saw it that way, I apologize.”

  “For what? Dressing up and being absolutely stunning looking. Yeah, let’s not have that in life.”

  “That’s not what this is about. Last night was an outlier. We were both too smart to let it escalate into something we would both regret. So let’s just leave it there. You cool with that?”

  “I don’t think I have a choice.”

  When she saw his face fall, she put a hand on his arm and added, “Look, I was the one who wanted to go drinking. I asked you to dance. Maybe I was flirtier than I realized. And when we came back here…I could see how you thought things were going to go. So, that was on me.”

  “How did you think things were going to go?” he asked, glancing up at her with an earnest look.

  “Maybe pretty close to what you thought, Eddie.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “And then it occurred to me that we haven’t seen each other or had any contact for over a decade. And I’m not that sort of a girl.”

  “For the record, I never thought you were.” He put his hands in his pockets. “It’s been a long time since Denise left. Dating is pretty much impossible with my career.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Oh come on, I’m sure every guy in Stunted Rock—”

  She interjected, “Shattered Rock, as you well know.”

  He grinned and so did she.

  “Okay, I’m sure that every guy in Shattered Rock has already fallen hard for you. You probably have to pull your gun to keep them away.”

  “I don’t know about all, but maybe one is interested,” said Pine as she thought of a park ranger at the Grand Canyon she had been seeing named Sam Kettler.

  “Well, then he’s a lucky guy. I hope he’s up to the challenge,” he added.

  “Only time will tell.”

  “So long as he doesn’t treat you as some damsel in distress.”

  “Nothing to worry about there.”

  “I’m happy for you, Atlee.”

  “You really have changed, Eddie. What gives?”

  “The way I had been caused me to lose what was most important to me. Now, I could have been an idiot and doubled down on that. But I decided to use my brain and change how I was conducting myself. Because if you keep doing the same thing over and over, how can you expect a different result?”

  “There’s somebody out there for you. Don’t give up trying. I have no idea if this guy back in Arizona will work out. We might always just be friends. But there’s nothing wrong with that, either.”r />
  “Well, I’m hoping we can be friends.”

  “I think we’re getting there.”

  A young woman who worked there came into the room and asked them if they needed anything.

  “No, we’re good,” replied Pine.

  When she left Laredo hunched forward, his body language back to all business. “So the kid back there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve been thinking.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “It might sound crazy.”

  “Your theory can’t be any crazier than whatever the truth will turn out to be, so let’s have it.”

  “So far, in the way of victims, we’ve got a bride, a groom, and now a young kid.”

  “I know that, Eddie,” she said sharply, and then caught herself. “Wait a minute, are you saying…?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Exactly.”

  “Just to be clear, are you talking about this guy building a…family? Of corpses?”

  “Building or rebuilding.”

  “Jesus.”

  “What did they call them in school?”

  “The nuclear family,” said Pine. “A particular social unit, as opposed to a family with only one parent.”

  “But there’s one difference with our case, at least from what I was taught about it.”

  She nodded. “With a nuclear family there’re two parents, like I just implied.”

  “And at least from what I remember there are usually two kids in a traditional nuclear family.”

  Pine leaned back against the wall. “Meaning we may have at least one more victim to come?”

  “So maybe next time it’ll be another kid.”

  “Then we have to make sure there isn’t a next time,” Pine replied firmly.

  “Easier said than done. We really have no line on this guy.”

  “Is there any pattern at Quantico that fits this?” she asked.

  “Not anything that I’ve seen. And I checked before I left. But with this new revelation I’ll go back through it again. But I don’t think I’m going to find similarities.”

  “So maybe this guy is a new player on the block.”

  Laredo shrugged. “Or he’s an old player but he’s changed his MO. But what’s his motivation?”