He handed her the note.
She read the note and quickly folded it up. She didn't want Addy to see it. "You'll find her in the Hinckley Tech building, first floor, administrative office," the note read.
They stood silently in the administration office. Outside, the sky grumbled menacingly, though it hadn't started to rain yet. Jules and Heath stood over the body while Dallin and Mayor Nichols hovered near the doorway watching them.
The Calligrapher had dragged a second desk into the office and placed Nikki on the carpet between the two desks. He'd rearranged the office's furniture, pushing the desks and chairs up against the walls to leave plenty of room in the center of the floor. Her clothes sat neatly folded on one of the desks. He'd used the legs of the desks for binding posts. And, as usual, he'd cut the cable ties and they were still attached to the desks' legs.
Nikki's mouth was closed in a tight grimace, jaw clenched. There was a purplish bruise on her cheek below her right eye. Since the blood had risen to the surface of Nikki's cheek, the injury had to have occurred before her death. Jules wondered if Nikki had tried to fight him off. Purple petechiae were sprinkled around her mouth and nose. A look of terror filled her eyes as they stared at the ceiling.
"Jesus," Heath said. "Is this how they all looked?"
Jules considered Heath's question. "Not exactly," she said. "In the other kill scenes, the victims had red abrasion marks on their breasts and pubic areas, but not here," she said, pointing at Nikki's body. He either wore something different that didn't abrade her skin, or he was naked. I would venture to say he was naked. No reason to worry about forensics this time around. No lab to send anything to."
Jules was already in her detached, professional mode.
"Couldn't we look for prints?"
"Be a waste of time," Jules answered. She spoke absently, her attention focused more on Nikki's body than Heath's question. She bent down to inspect the calligraphy. "He would have known the only forensic evidence we could check for would be prints," she continued. "Because of that, he would have worn gloves. Just to be safe. He doesn't leave clues unless he wants to."
"Yeah. All right. I can see that. And it wouldn't be practical to fingerprint everyone in town. Wouldn't go over too well," Heath said.
"Who-Who's g-going to tell her father?" Dallin broke in suddenly, the first words he'd spoken since they'd arrived.
"I'll be telling him," Heath told his deputy.
"Something else," Jules said. "These lines aren't as meticulous as usual. Looks like he was in a hurry."
"Why would he be in a hurry?"
"I'm not sure. Could be he wanted to make sure he'd get enough sleep so he wouldn't appear tired," Jules said. It was a guess, but she thought it made sense.
"We've got to catch this bastard, Jules" Heath said. "We can't let him do this to anyone else. How do we catch him?"
It was the first time since they'd begun looking for the Calligrapher that Heath had given in to Jules' expertise.
Jules stood back up but kept looking at Nikki's body. She wanted to make sure she didn't miss anything. "Opportunity," she answered. "He likes to prepare his kill scenes in advance. That means he had to have been here before last night to get everything set up. He would have needed a light source to see what he was doing along with the tools for his calligraphy. And he wouldn't have been able to bring everything he needed and carry Nikki too. So, who had the opportunity? Who was here and when? Since no one is allowed to travel alone in Gideon anymore, how did he do it? We've had the dam guarded for a week now."
No one answered at first.
"He coulda swum," Dallin said. "Done it at night."
"That's a tough swim across that current, and that water's cold as hell at night," Heath said.
"I-I could do it," Dallin said with a single nod.
"He could have swum across to set up the kill scene," Jules said, considering the possibility. "He could have found what he needed in Gideon. But I don't see how could have gotten Nikki and himself across the river last night."
Heath let out an agitated exhale. "Harold," he said. "Had to be the dam. It's the only answer that makes any sense. We had seven guards stationed by the river near camp last night. No way he could have gotten past them without someone seeing him. Harold Curtis was the guard at the dam last night. We need to talk to Harold."
"And it's time we talk to Caleb too," Jules said.
*****
Harold sat perfectly still at the picnic table as if he were frozen in place and any possible movement might cause him to shatter into a thousand pieces. His head loomed over a cup of hot coffee, a ribbon of steam rising into his face.
"Harold," Heath called loudly as they approached.
Harold tipped his head up to glance in Heath's direction. He winced from the effort. The thick pouches under his bloodshot eyes were a shadowy gray. Jules had seen Harold around camp. Today he looked ten years older. It was obvious Harold Curtis was nursing a hangover.
"Where'd you get the alcohol, Harold? And don't for one minute try and bullshit me."
Heath stood across the table from Harold.
"Don't know what you're talking about," Harold said weakly, staring into his coffee.
"I can smell you from here," Heath told him. Heath's face was tight with anger. "Where'd you get the alcohol, Harold? And you better not make me ask again."
"I don't know," Harold said, shaking his head. "The bottle showed up in my tent yesterday afternoon. I don't know where the hell it came from. I ain't had a drink since this whole thing started," he whined.
"You passed out last night at the dam, didn't you?"
Harold looked up meekly. "I guess," he said.
"Did you see anyone near your tent yesterday," Jules asked him.
"Didn't see no one," he said. "Did somethin' happen last night?"
No one answered him.
"Did you see or hear anything near the dam last night?" Jules asked.
"No. Didn't see nuthin'. Didn't hear no one either. Last night it was quiet as a church mouse," he said. "I swear." Harold looked down into his coffee again. "I-I know I shouldn't have been drinkin', but I ain't had a drop since the 4th of July," he said miserably.
"Harold, you are some piece of work," Heath said.
A heavy drop of rain smacked Jules on the forehead and the drops began pelting the leaves overhead. The dark, morning sky was finally letting loose.
"Let's head for Jules' tent," Heath suggested.
They scrambled for the tent as the sky unleashed a wild torrent of rain that thrashed through the trees.
"We need to get ahead of this thing," Heath said as soon as they were seated. They were wiping the rain from their faces. Heath was stern-faced and agitated. "I'm sure people already know Nikki's missing. I'll have to tell her father we found her. We'll hold a town meeting. No way we can hold this back anymore. Everyone will have to know."
"We need to be careful what we tell them," Jules said. "We should tell them what happened without giving out details. We should suggest to them that we have leads. It's important they believe we have everything under control and that we're going to be able to solve this soon. That way there will be less panic."
"Maybe we should have Jules lead the meeting," Mayor Nichols suggested.
"No. It should be Heath. They know Heath and trust him. They don't know me at all. Trust is important." Jules looked at Heath. "You're going to have to convince them that everything is going to be all right."
"Yes," he said quietly. "I can do that."
*****
"You in there, Caleb?" Jules shouted.
Jules was standing outside Caleb's tent, sopping wet. The rain hadn't let up.
After a few moments, Caleb unzipped the tent flap. "Yeah," he said lazily. "I'm here." He looked her up and down. "You are aware it's raining, right?"
"You think I might be able to come in?"
He gave her a half-baked smile. "Yeah. Sure."
He moved the flap back
further to let her enter. He reached down into a duffel bag and dug out a towel and tossed it at her. "Best dry yourself off before you get my tent all wet," he said.
He'd said it in his usual impassive voice, but Jules sensed he was joking.
Jules scrubbed her face and hair dry and then her arms and legs. As she dried herself off, she took mental notes of Caleb's tent. Everything was scrupulously neat and organized. Caleb's sleeping bag lay on the left side of the tent, smoothed out and zippered up, Rusty lying at its foot, his tail switching back and forth. Rusty crawled forward and sniffed Jules' leg. Jules reached down and patted him on the head.
"I wouldn't get too carried away," Caleb said, his voice dry as the desert. "He flirts with everyone."
Jules kept looking around as she dried her hair. At the head of the tent sat a box of toiletries. An open paperback lay on the sleeping bag. On the right side of the tent, his olive drab duffel bag lay against the tent wall and parallel next to it lay a rifle. Further up the right side was a backpack, and next to it were Caleb's sheathed knife, his holstered Glock, and his crowbar. A lighted Coleman lamp sat in the center of the tent near the head of the sleeping bag.
Jules handed him the towel back and Caleb spread it over his duffel bag to dry.
He pointed to the sleeping bag. "Have a seat," he said.
Jules picked up the paperback and sat in its spot near the head of the sleeping bag. She glanced briefly at the title—Herman Hesse's Steppenwolf—and set the book down next to her. Caleb had earmarked a page to keep its place. He was halfway through.
Caleb seated himself at the foot of the sleeping bag. Rusty settled his head on Caleb's thigh and Caleb scratched his dog behind the ears.
Jules sat facing Caleb. For once, his sun-streaked hair was down. Caleb's hair was thick and wavy and trailed down to his shoulders. He stared at the stitched wounds on Jules' leg. The bandages had come off, but the wound was still swollen and red.
"Getting better?" he asked.
"Yes. Much better. I've retired the cane," she said.
Jules had misread Caleb again. The thick scruffy beard and his sometimes-unkempt appearance had fooled Jules into thinking that Caleb Sanderson wouldn't be neat or organized.
"Good book?" she asked him.
"It's all right," he said.
Jules thought about the book. Herman Hesse novels weren't exactly light reading material. Heath had mentioned Caleb was quite the reader—still, she was surprised he would read Hesse. Jules had read Hesse's Siddartha in college but had never read Steppenwolf.
"What's up, Jules?" he asked.
"Before we get started, I'm going to ask you not to share anything I tell you. Not with anyone. Do you think you can do that?"
He studied her closely. "Depends on what you tell me," he said. "Little hard to make promises when I don't know where the hell you're going with this."
"Fair enough," Jules said. "This morning we found the body of Nikki Gibson. She was murdered." Jules ran her hand through her damp hair. "And you were right. There was and is something going on, and it does have to do with the FBI and my coming to Gideon. I came to Gideon to find a serial killer."
Caleb's expression hardly changed. "A serial killer? Heath known about this all along?"
"Yes. Though he thought I was wrong about there being a serial killer in Gideon … until recently."
"Some reason you people didn't warn anyone?"
"At first we weren't sure. When we were, we didn't want to start a panic."
"How's that working out?" he asked.
"Even if we'd told everyone, it wouldn't have stopped him. Later today, we'll be telling everyone about Nikki's murder, but we won't be sharing details."
Caleb inclined his head at an inquisitive angle. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because of something I learned recently," she said. Jules swallowed. Her mouth was bone dry. "Have you heard from Audrey since she left Gideon?"
At first, Caleb seemed confounded by the question, then his face turned dark. And for once, Caleb Sanderson wasn't hard to read.
"What did you say?" he asked.
"I'm sorry. I know this may be difficult, but it is important. Have you heard from Audrey Jean?"
"No," he answered tersely, his face flat and hard. "Why?"
Jules softened her professional voice as much as she could. "There's an aspect of these crimes that suggest a possible connection to Audrey Jean," she told him. "There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to tell you directly.
"The FBI searched for well over a year without success to discover who or what AJ might be. Now, keep in mind the serial killer is someone from Gideon. Someone who may have known Audrey Jean." She was talking faster than normal. She wanted to get it over with. "After the victims were killed, the initials AJ were carved into the abdominal area of all four victims. Since AJ left Gideon before the murders began, the possibility exists that Audrey Jean was the serial killer's first victim, and the initials may be the killer's way of honoring his first victim. A shrine so to speak."
Caleb shook his head defiantly. "No. You're dead wrong," he said angrily. "Audrey Jean's fine. You don't know my daughter. When she's ready, she'll let me know she's all right."
"Yes. I hope you're right, Caleb."
"Get the hell out of my tent, Jules."
*****
Jules stood outside Caleb's tent, doused by the relentless gray rain. She replayed the conversation in her mind. It didn't help. No matter how many times she replayed it, it never went well. She closed her eyes and raised her face to the venting sky and welcomed the rain as if it might somehow wash away the ugly feeling she had.
She had to remain focused. More than ever, she needed to stay on point. She couldn't afford to get caught up in the emotions of the moment. She needed to focus on two things—find the Calligrapher and keep Addy safe. Nothing else mattered.
She took a cleansing breath and wiped the water from her face. Jules knew what she had to do. Ever since they'd found Nikki's body, she'd been formulating a plan in her mind.
*****
The picnic tables were noticeably darkened from the rain. The fresh scent of rain-saturated wood was strong, mixing with the smell of damp earth. The rain had stirred everything up. Jules had brought towels for her and Addy to sit on.
In the last hour, the smothering blanket of gray had broken apart into a colony of frayed clouds.
Addy sat slumped, arms folded tight into her body. She leaned into Jules. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. Jules had her arm around Addy's shoulders. Addy hadn't wanted to come, but Jules insisted and told her she couldn't be left alone.
Angela and Bethany had joined them. Bethany sat next to Addy and Angela sat across the table from them.
Jules discretely searched the picnic grounds for Caleb but didn't see him anywhere.
"Why do you always sit at a different table?" Bethany asked in a bright voice.
"Oh, I don't know," Jules answered. "I sit wherever there's space."
It wasn't quite true. Jules sat at different tables so she could listen to the voices around her. She'd been listening since she first arrived in Gideon.
Mayor Nichols, Heath, and Dallin stood together at the top of the picnic grounds in a huddle. There was a lot of agitated talking at the tables. Heath stepped forward and took the lead.
He motioned with his hands for everyone to quiet down. He stood tall with one hand leisurely atop the butt of his holstered Glock. "All right. Listen up. We have a serious situation everyone needs to be made aware of. Some of you may have heard a few things today. For those who haven't heard, this morning we found the body of Nikki Gibson over at the Hinckley Tech building. She was dead. She'd been murdered."
People gasped and there were excited utterances and the din of voices grew louder. A few people shouted questions at Heath. He didn't answer then. Heath didn't move muscle but waited patiently for them to quiet down again. Once they quieted down, he continued. "Now, we have some cl
ues, and we expect to find out who did this in the coming days. For now, we need each and every one of you to allow Dallin and I to do our jobs so we can find out who did this. In the meantime, everyone here can help out. The first and most important thing you can do is to make sure no one goes anywhere alone till this is over. Take care of your loved ones.
"Here are a few things we're going to do to make sure this doesn't happen again. The curfew is still in effect. Before it gets dark, everyone other than the assigned guards are going to be in their tents. We're going to station extra guards along the river, at the dam, and in the campground itself. We're going to lock everything down till this thing is over with. We will find out who did this, and he will be dealt with. For now, I'm not going to be answering any questions."
Chapter 40
The Black Bird
Jules waited till Addy was sound asleep before she left. She located a guard to watch the tent while she was gone. Jules wasn't going to leave Addy alone.
Above her, she listened to the night wind as it scurried through the branches and riffled the leaves. The leaves made a light shimmering sound that blended perfectly with the soft murmuring of the river. Jules thought it a velvety summer night, pleasantly cool the way summer nights should be. The storm clouds had been swept away by the wind and countless stars blinked and glittered in the night sky. It was a perfect night for a stroll, not that that was what Jules had in mind.
Even in the dark, Jules could make out the bear-like silhouette of Lawrence Nichols seated at the same picnic table he always sat at late at night.
"Good evening, Jules," he said perfunctorily in greeting as she seated herself at the table.
The professor held his shot glass of amaretto delicately with the stubby tips of his thumb and forefinger. He raised the shot glass as if in a toast to Jules, smiled at her, and emptied it. Jules suspected the drink wasn't his first.
Apocalypse Journeys (Book 2): Finding AJ Page 27
