by Karen Rose
“What is it?” Luke asked impatiently when the others were gone.
“When I wasn’t going through Leigh’s phone records last night, I was reading the rest of Jared O’Brien’s journal. Luke, he describes every rape those boys did in great detail. There is nothing about raping Susannah in that journal.” Chase sighed. “And Jared was enough of an asshole that he would have bragged about it, if only in his journal. He wanted to . . . choose Susannah, but Simon always said no.”
“Because he’d already done it,” Luke murmured, and Chase frowned.
“What do you know, Luke?”
Luke sighed. “She doesn’t want Daniel to know. Simon participated in at least one rape. He showed her a picture of him raping her.”
Chase shook his head. “Jared was clear Simon never participated. Where is this picture?”
“She doesn’t know.”
“So it was Simon and at least one other,” Chase said. “Whoever took the photo.”
“Granville,” Luke said, clenching his teeth. “It had to have been Granville.”
“Then it’s possible Garth Davis is telling the truth,” Chloe said quietly.
“I know,” Luke said. “And if he is . . .”
“He’s not guilty of her rape,” Chase said. “He’s the only one of the seven left alive.”
“So she came forward for nothing,” Chloe said dully. “Godammit.”
“Not for nothing.” The three of them whipped around to look at the door where Susannah stood clutching a yearbook to her chest. “I came forward for me, to take my life back.” She met Luke’s eyes and smiled. Luke made himself smile back, even though his heart was cracking. She cleared her throat. “I found something you should see.” She put the yearbook on the table and opened it. “I was too nervous to sit still, so I started paging through all the yearbooks in that box in your office. This one is from Springfield High, about twenty miles from Dutton.” She pointed to a picture. “Look.”
“Marcy Linton.” Chase looked up at her with a mild frown. “I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t know her as Marcy Linton,” Susannah said. “I knew her as Darcy Williams.”
There was a moment of stunned silence, then a collective sigh. “So she grew up twenty miles from you, but met you in New York,” Luke said slowly.
“Not a coincidence,” Susannah said. “She was somehow part of the plan. I want to know how, and why, and what went wrong the night she was murdered.”
“I agree,” Chase said. “We need to find out more about Miss Marcy Linton. I’ve got Talia calling the police in Arkansas about Bobby’s past. When she’s finished, I’ll have her track down the Linton family.”
“I’d like to go with her,” Susannah said. “Please, Chase. The Darcy I knew said she was a runaway, that she had no family. She was my friend, or I thought she was. I had her buried in New York.”
“You paid for her burial?” Chloe asked.
“I couldn’t let her be dumped in Potters’ Field. If she has family somewhere, they need to know what happened to her. Please let me go with Talia.”
“Until we find Bobby, I want you safe in this building,” Luke said fiercely.
Susannah shook her head. “What if she’s gone, run away? What if we never find her? I can’t hide forever, Luke. Talia’s a good cop. I’ll be safe with her and I promise I’ll be careful. First though, I need to speak with Garth Davis.”
Charlotte, North Carolina, Monday, February 5, 8:45 a.m.
Special Agent Harry Grimes was putting the finishing touches on his closed report on the abduction and recovery of Eugenie Cassidy when his phone rang. “Grimes.”
“Harry, it’s Steven Thatcher. We found Dr. Cassidy’s car.”
Genie and Monica’s dad. “Oh, hell, Steven. Where?”
“Lake Gordon. There was a bass tournament yesterday and some guy found Cassidy’s car with his fish finder. He called it in this morning when he saw the news on Genie being found, but her father is still missing. We’ve got a team dragging the lake.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Hey, how’s the girl, by the way?” Steven asked.
“Genie’s untouched,” Harry said. “Physically anyway. She’s still in shock. Monica . . . well, that’s a different story. I talked to her mother this morning. Monica’s got a long row to hoe. I wish . . . I wish we could have done something to prevent this.”
“She’s alive,” Steven said. “Remember that. What about this Jason character?”
“ ‘Jason’ was a team of two madams, a doctor, and a deputy sheriff. All are dead except for the older madam. Genie identified the younger madam as her abductor.”
“Could any of them have killed Dr. Cassidy, assuming this is his car we found?”
Harry checked his notes. “No, none of the four could have done it. Given the time Cassidy’s neighbor saw his car drive away, it can’t be either of the women. The younger madam was dead by noon, in Georgia. The older woman was seen at the scene and likely killed the young one.”
“What about the deputy?”
“He was killed Friday, the day Monica escaped. The doctor was killed then, too.”
“Shit,” Steven said. “They got a real mess down there.”
“I don’t think we know the half of it. I talked to Luke Papadopoulos down in Atlanta. He says there’s still at least two more out there—the older madam and one other.”
“What do you know about Genie’s abduction?”
“She was taken from an all-night diner called Mel’s.”
“If I were you, I’d check it out.”
“I did, a few hours before Genie was found. She said the younger madam did it, and she’s dead now.”
“But you also said the younger madam couldn’t have been involved in the abduction of Genie’s daddy, so we have at least one more player. Maybe it’s the same other player this Papadopoulos in Atlanta’s looking for. Did this diner have security video?”
“Only at the cash register. But . . .” Again Harry flipped through his notes. “There’s an ATM across the road. The angle on their security camera might be about right.”
“There you go,” Steven said. “Have at it, boy. I’ll call you if we pull up Dr. Cassidy.”
Atlanta, Monday, February 5, 9:35 a.m.
Susannah’s stomach churned as she stood outside the interrogation room in which Garth Davis waited. “I’m scared, Luke,” she murmured.
He slid his arm around her waist. “You don’t have to do this. I can talk to him.”
“No, I do need to do this.” She drew a deep breath. “Let’s get it over with.”
Chloe was waiting inside the room, along with Garth Davis and his lawyer.
“Garth,” Susannah murmured and sat in the chair Luke pulled out for her.
“Susannah,” he said warily. “It’s been a long time.”
“Yes, it has.” She studied his face, not with the eye of a prosecutor, but with the eye of a woman whose life had been turned upside down for way too long. Garth looked drawn, haggard. At barely thirty-two years old, he looked . . . old. As old as she felt.
Garth looked up at Luke. “You found my sons. Thank you.”
Beside her, Luke nodded once. “We said we would.”
“I saw the news. I swear, I didn’t know what Barbara Jean had done.”
“She tried to kill me yesterday,” Susannah said.
Garth met her gaze, his eyes haunted. “I know.”
“Did you know she hated me?”
“No.”
“Did you know she was Arthur Vartanian’s daughter?” she asked.
His eyes widened in shock. “Really?”
“Yes.” And then she knew what she wanted to ask. “Did you rape fifteen girls?”
“Garth,” his lawyer warned, but Garth held up his hand wearily.
“Enough. It’s enough already. I’m not getting out of this. They have pictures, a journal. My sister is dead, along with half of Dutton. Enough people have died f
or the sins of a handful of stupid boys.”
“My original offer stands, Mr. Davis,” Chloe said. “Fifteen years.”
“The deal sucks, Chloe,” Davis’s lawyer said. “He was a juvenile, for God’s sake.”
“He was seventeen.”
“Only for half of them,” the lawyer argued, and Chloe rolled her eyes.
“There’s a mandatory sentence for every count. If a judge orders those served consecutively your client would be in prison for the rest of his life.”
“But no judge would,” his lawyer scoffed.
Garth shook his head. “Stop, Sweeney. You can’t get me out of this.”
“We’ll request a change of venue,” his lawyer said, and Garth laughed bitterly.
“Where? To Mars? There is no place that doesn’t know the Richie Rich Rapists.” His mouth twisted. “I’m going to take Miss Hathaway’s deal. I’ll get out in time to see my grandchildren. Yes, Susannah, I raped fifteen girls thirteen years ago. I was caught up in this game . . . this idea that it would make us men. But I swear, I did not rape you.”
She believed him. Still . . . “Maybe you were left behind once.”
“I don’t think so.” He shrugged. “The others would have bragged. Everyone wanted you then. You were cool and sophisticated and . . . unattainable.”
“I was withdrawn and traumatized,” she said evenly. “I was a rape victim.”
“I’m truly sorry. But it wasn’t me or the others. I’m telling you they would’ve bragged, especially Jared O’Brien.” He paused, sighed. “It could have been Granville.”
“Why do you say that, Mr. Davis?” Chloe asked.
“He was always the one in charge and we knew it, although no one ever said it. Everyone was too afraid of Simon to say he wasn’t the leader. But it was Toby Granville calling the shots. He picked the girls, the dates, the places.”
“But that doesn’t explain why you thought Granville did it,” Chloe said.
He closed his eyes. “I don’t want to say this.”
“Mr. Davis,” Chloe said harshly, “if you’re angling for a better deal, then—”
“I’m not,” he snapped. “Dammit. We always wanted to do Susannah, all right?”
Susannah tensed and Luke offered his hand. She grabbed on tight, listening now, because Garth had seemed to forget she was in the room, addressing Chloe instead.
“What stopped you?” Chloe asked him coolly.
“Granville. Simon would say ‘Not my sister,’ like he was protecting his turf. Turf, my ass. We always said Simon would do his own mother because he could. And had.”
Horrified, Susannah stared, barely registering Chloe’s warning glance.
“Are you saying Simon had a relationship with his mother that was inappropriate?” Chloe asked, still cool.
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying, because that’s what Simon said. And he had pictures,” he added in disgust. “Simon didn’t care about Susannah. He only cared about Simon.”
“But still the rest of the boys wanted to choose Susannah,” Chloe said evenly.
“Yeah. Finally one day Granville pulled us aside one at time. Told us to stop asking. He said, ‘Susannah is taken.’ ”
“By whom?”
“By him. Toby Granville. It’s what we understood him to mean.” His shoulders sagged and he turned back to Susannah. “I’m sorry. We thought you were Granville’s. That you knew. When I heard you’d accused me, I was stunned. And that’s the truth.”
She was breathing too rapidly because there didn’t seem to be enough air in the room. And not a single word would come. Luke’s hand tightened around hers.
“I have a few questions, Mr. Davis,” Luke said. “First, do you know where your wife is hiding?”
“If I knew, I’d tell you. She could come and take my boys and I’m stuck in here. I can’t protect them. So, if I knew where she was, I would tell you to protect my children.”
“What about her friends?” Luke asked.
“She was tight with Marianne Woolf, but my lawyer told me Barbara abducted Marianne, too. She had a weekly hair appointment at Angie’s. You could ask Angie who she talked to. She said she had friends in Atlanta. She used to have lunch with them pretty frequently.” He gave them some names and Luke shook his head.
“Those are the names of clients we found in her computer.”
Garth shrugged. “She had lunch with clients often. That makes sense.”
“What kind of clients did your wife have?” Chloe asked carefully.
Garth looked from Chloe to Luke. “She had an interior design business.”
The man had been so deluded, Susannah thought. Had he not been such a monster himself, she might have felt a stirring of pity.
From the set of Luke’s jaw, Susannah could tell he felt absolutely no pity for Garth, either. Luke ripped off a sheet of paper from his note pad and, still holding Susannah’s hand, drew the swastika she wore on her hip. “Do you recognize this?”
Garth’s eyes flickered. “Yes.”
“Well?” Luke asked.
Garth looked at Chloe. “Before I say any more, I want a concession. I’ll allocute. But I want to be able to be sentenced somewhere close by, so I can see my sons.”
“Depends,” Chloe said. “We already know Granville had the symbol on his ring and on a pendant. Do you have anything different?”
“Yeah,” Garth said. “I do.”
Chloe nodded. “Then I can petition you serve your time more locally.”
“ ‘More locally.’ ” His lips twisted at her evasion. “Lawyers,” he murmured. “Gotta love us. I didn’t know Granville had a ring, too. But my wife had one. It was big, a man’s ring. I only saw it once. She said it had belonged to her father. I told her I didn’t want it in my house, that I didn’t think it was good for the kids. She agreed, said she’d get rid of it. I never saw it again.”
“Describe it,” Luke said.
“Heavy, silver, I think. Raised design.”
“How big was it?” Luke asked. “The raised part.”
“Size of a dime at least.” His eye narrowed. “Why?”
“Did you know,” Chloe asked, “that Kate had that design branded on her hip?”
His eyes widened in shock once again. “What? No.”
“What was the relationship between your sister and your wife?” Chloe asked.
His mouth fell open. “Are you saying they were . . . sexually involved?”
“No,” Chloe said. “Are you?”
“No,” he said, horrified. “They were like sisters. Barbara made Kate beautiful. She made sure she wore the right clothes, taught her to walk and talk. My God.” He looked sick. “My wife and my sister?”
“You are aware that your wife ran a prostitution business in which she peddled minor girls, aren’t you?” Chloe asked mildly.
“I read about the girls, yes . . .” His shoulders sagged. “I never knew before. I never knew what was happening under my own roof. Did she . . . Did she molest my boys?”
“We have no indication of that,” Chloe said. “The court will order counseling for them when custody is awarded. You’ve been candid with us, so I’ll be candid. We’ve had reports that your wife operated as a call girl up until your election as mayor of Dutton.”
Garth fell back in his chair. “What?”
“We found records on her computer. She took in as much as five hundred an hour. One of her former clients came forward to report she’d blackmailed him afterward. The names of the ‘friends’ she had in Atlanta match some of the names on her client list.”
Susannah looked up at Luke. He looked surprised, too.
Garth grew pale. “All that time . . .” he whispered. “She said she had an interior design business. My uncle Rob always said she was white trash. I should have listened.”
Susannah rubbed her temples. “Garth, I was looking through the yearbooks this morning,” she said. “There were only a few kids at Bryson Academy whose families weren
’t wealthy. Barbara lived with her aunt, right? They were far from rich.”
“She was there on scholarship,” he murmured. “One of the teachers helped her get it. I can’t do anymore. Take me back.”
When he was gone, Chloe shook her head. “His wife sells children to perverts, kills his sister, and he’s most rocked by the fact she cheated on him.”
Luke tipped up Susannah’s chin. “Your mother and Simon. That was a shock.”
“But it explains a lot.” Her mouth curved bitterly. “Fine stock Daniel and I come from.”
“Sounds like your whole town is one big, festering Peyton Place,” Chloe said. “But they say wildflowers that sprout up in weeds are stronger than any rose.”
Susannah smiled ruefully. “Thank you, Chloe.”
Chloe stood. “I’m off to another heart-to-heart with an inmate. If you hurry, you might meet Daniel coming into the lobby on your way out.”
“Daniel’s here?” Luke asked.
“He got discharged from the hospital this morning,” Susannah said. “I didn’t know he was coming here, though.”
“Alex has some unfinished business with her stepfather,” Chloe said. “They can tell you about it. I’ll see you two later.”
When she was gone, Luke pulled her to her feet. “I’ll take you back to meet Talia so you can search for Marcy/Darcy’s family.” He hesitated. “You don’t really buy that tripe about bad stock, do you?”
“I don’t know. But it doesn’t seem to matter if it’s nature or nurture in this case. Both suck, for Daniel and me. It’s no wonder Simon became such a monster.”
“But you and Daniel became good people.”
She made her lips curve even though her stomach churned worse than before she’d come in. “Two outta three ain’t bad?”
Dutton, Monday, February 5, 10:00 a.m.
Charles was laying out his black suit when his cell phone rang. “Paul. Well?”
“It’s done. I appreciate the heads up. That sketch artist had done a damn good job. Anybody at APD who saw that sketch would have recognized me in two seconds.”
“You got her original sketch and all copies?”
“Yes. The artist had already uploaded it to GBI’s server, but she erased it before I erased her. And today,” he said with a smile in his voice, “I got a new assignment.”
