by CJ Lyons
Jenna was going to be so pissed off. Lucy's first attempt at a phone call when she found one brave bar appearing on her cell wasn't to the postal inspector whose suspect she just allowed to escape. It was to Nick.
"My next patient is here," he answered. Not to be rude but to let her know he didn't have much time.
"Adam sent the letter. He just wanted to get me here. There's no threat to you or Megan."
"What about to you? Why did he want you there?"
Lucy wished she had all the answers. "He thought if I came it would be like last time, press and all. He's trying to find his father and thought the media attention would bring his dad here."
"That's one mixed up kid. You sure he's no danger?"
Her gaze scoured the mountainside, trying to spot movement between the barren tree trunks. Too far away, too many trees, too many hiding places. "He's no danger. Just in a world of pain. I wish I could help him."
"Come home, Lucy. There's nothing you can do for him."
Her breath shimmered silver in the cold. The flurries thickened, halfway serious. "I know. But—"
"You can't save the world. Although I love you for always trying." There was the sound of a knock. "Gotta go. See you tonight. Love you."
She pocketed her phone, but didn't get into the car, reluctant to give up on Adam so easily. The snow spiraled around her, quickly turning the world to gray. No movement on the mountain.
Maybe she couldn't ease Adam's pain. But she could keep her word and find his father for him. She hoped he knew that.
Finally she got into the car and drove away.
<><><>
Once Adam was five, old enough to be left on his own, Adam's mom used to go fishing with Dad. For a while Dad was happy, so Mom and Adam were as well. Adam wanted to go with them but they'd leave him home, locked up safe and tight. When they came back a few days later, they'd be laughing and smiling and touching and kissing and he felt as if he had missed something special.
Then his mom got sick. One night Dad dragged him out of bed, said Mom was too tired and he was taking Adam instead of her. Adam had to put his shoes on twice—the first time he got them mixed up and on the wrong feet, he was so excited. He said goodbye to Mom. She seemed sad she wasn't going. Told him to do everything Dad said and not to ask any questions. Told him to make Dad proud.
Adam wondered why there were no fishing poles in the van. The back had been covered in plastic and the tackle box held duct tape, rope, box cutters, a bottle of adhesive remover, and handcuffs. He wanted to ask Dad what was going on, but as soon as they left the driveway, Dad hunched forward over the steering wheel, eyes wide with excitement, talking to himself as if Adam wasn't even there.
They didn't drive out to the lake like Adam expected. They drove over the mountain and into Altoona. Dad sat up straighter. He pulled a ball cap down over his eyes and adjusted the mirrors so he could see anyone coming as he slowly drove up and down the streets.
"There's a good one," he'd mutter. "What do you think of that one?"
It took Adam awhile to figure out he was talking about the women on the street. Adam had only been to the city once when Dad took him to visit Mom in the hospital the first time she got sick.
The city had its own melody. A bass line of car horns, women laughing in counterpoint, the click-clack of footsteps keeping rhythm. Adam loved the dense harmony but its strangeness terrified him. Nothing at all like the birds and crickets and farm machines that colored his world back in New Hope.
Years later when Dad told Morgan about Adam's first time fishing, laughing at what a rube Adam was, thinking that hick town was a real city—they were now in Atlanta, so he had a good point—Adam still remembered that symphony of city sounds, the way his pulse raced hearing it for the first time.
"That's the one," Dad finally said, pulling the van to the curb. "Jump out and reel her in."
Adam shifted in his seat, using the mirror to watch the girl. She looked a lot like Mom, except much younger. Dark hair, skinny waist, she wore a black halter-top and really short denim cutoffs. Her heels must have hurt because while the other girls turned the corner, this one lagged behind, leaning against the brick wall of a warehouse.
"What do I do?" Adam asked. He didn't like talking to strangers—heck, he didn't even like talking to people he knew. Far better to stay out of sight, keep quiet. That way he didn't get into trouble.
"Hop out. Tell her you're lost and ask to use her cell phone."
"What if she doesn't have one?"
"It doesn't matter. But if she does, you get it in your hand and don't let it go, hear me? And make sure she's facing you, not the road."
Dad had his own phone, so Adam didn't understand why he wanted a stranger's. But he got that look on his face, the one that made him look dark and mean and usually came before he took his belt off and Adam got a whipping. So Adam hopped out of the van and ran the half block to where the girl stood.
"Excuse me, Miss?" he said, out of breath and flushed with terror—what if he messed up? "Miss, could I use your phone?"
"Go away, kid," she said. "I'm busy." She adjusted the strap on her platform sandals.
"Er—I can't. Don't you have a phone?" Adam fidgeted. He had the sudden urge to pee. "Please?"
"What's wrong with you?" Then the girl looked more closely at him. "How old are you anyway? Whatcha doing out here so late?"
"I'm lost—"
Before Adam could say anything more, the van glided up behind the girl and Dad hopped out. She was still looking at Adam, fumbling in her purse, when Dad caught her in a bear hug with one arm and zapped her with a stun gun with the other. Adam had barely picked up the purse she dropped, and she was in the van with the door closed.
Adam stood there, holding the purse, not knowing what to do. No one else was watching them or even seemed to notice. Dad climbed from the back of the van into the driver's seat.
"You want me to leave you here, numbskull?" He started to pull away from the curb.
Adam ran, yanked the passenger door open, and jumped in.
"You really are an idiot," Dad muttered as he drove them out of the city. "You can't stand there forever jabbering with them. Just get the damn phone so they can't call no one and keep their attention off the road. Jeezit, a monkey could do a better job. I wish your mom was here. You should see her. Smooth as silk, bing-bang-boom, they're in the van, barely a hair out of place. You? Can't believe you're any son of mine."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know—" Adam shrank into his seat. His father's words hurt more than if Dad had used the belt. He'd been so happy to come along tonight, but obviously Dad expected him to know how to do this.
A muffled thud came from the back of the van. The big cooler on wheels shook and Adam realized Dad had shoved the girl into it. He hoped she was getting enough air, but didn't dare ask. Dad already thought he was an idiot for not knowing how to talk to the girl.
What were they going to do with her? Where were they going? Adam's mouth went dry as he considered the answers to those questions.
That's when he wet his pants. Dad didn't get angry. Instead he laughed and laughed and laughed.
Adam promised himself he'd do better next time. Make Dad proud of him. Mom, too.
Chapter 13
Bob kept Jenna behind him as they walked to the far edge of the cavern. "Step where I step."
The path wove between three large stalagmites jutting up from the floor, surrounded by deep pits. Jenna stopped and aimed her light down one. Slip and fall and a broken leg would be the least of your worries.
But the greater danger came from the sheer drop about fifteen feet from the cavern. Bob led her along a narrow ledge, their backs pressed to the rock face, shining his light across the crevasse. It sputtered out before hitting the other side. Then he directed it down. Again the high-powered stream of light died in darkness.
"Bottomless."
"Not really. But just as good for disposing bodies. Can you hear the river?"
/> She listened. It didn't sound like a river—at least not any she was used to hearing. More like a faint sigh that occasionally crested into a wail.
"Keep going this way," he pointed with the light along the narrow path, "and you come to two more chambers. Just like the first, only smaller."
"He kept multiple women here at once?"
Bob nodded, the light making the shadow from his hat brim dance across his face like a shroud. "Nancy Townsend, the UNC student you were listening to on the tape, she said she was originally held back here. Wasn't sure which cavern, but she heard another woman screaming not far away. Then he moved both women to the large cavern. Had a pulley system set up so he could manipulate them by the way he chained them. Made the other woman stand upright, on her tippy toes, while Nancy was secured to the floor, unable to do more than kneel or sit. When the chain around the other woman's neck began choking her and she didn't have the strength to keep standing, Nancy put her body under her feet to support her."
He paused. The light in his hand trembled, golden-white beams crashing on the rocks in ripples. "Guess he didn't like that much. Nancy interfering. Killed the other woman, gutted her, chained Nancy to the corpse and left it to rot for a few days."
Jenna fought to keep her shudder out of her voice. "Did we ID her? The other victim?"
"Nancy said her name was Adrian Goings. From Cincinnati. CSU found one of her teeth. DNA matched." He cleared his throat. "After that Nancy was alone for awhile. She's not sure how long before he brought her Rachel. She said he seemed very angry with Rachel. Was determined to break her—his words. Told Nancy it was her job to keep Rachel alive, no matter what."
"Jesus." Jenna pressed back against the wall, glad that the darkness shielded her face. She'd read the files, but hearing it here, it all suddenly seemed real.
"Rachel held out for a long time. Fought back. Never made a sound while he was there except to cite Bible verses. But in the end, he broke her. After that, she tried to hang herself with her chain. Nancy said she almost let her, was ashamed that part of the reason she saved Rachel was fear. She was afraid of what he'd do to her if Rachel died. When he found out, he hogtied Rachel's arms and legs so Nancy had to feed her, get her to drink. Then he left them. They were rescued a few days later."
Jenna hugged herself. The leather coat no match for the chill that crept into her bones. "Rachel never said a word?"
"Refused to make a statement. Refused treatment at the hospital. Refused to see her family. Thought she'd kill herself for real, but she didn't. Guess maybe the baby helped get her through."
"Baby?"
"She was either pregnant before he got her or the baby was his, no one can say except Rachel and she isn't talking. She had a little girl. Sally—Sarah, she named her. Sweet thing. I thought for a while there Rachel might make it, but then she began using meth and heroin and hooked up with Roy Collins and his lot, and well, seems like hard luck just keeps knocking on her door. Can't tell you how many times I've been called out there on domestic disputes. She never says a word, just shows me Sally's well cared for and sends me on my way again."
He sighed. Jenna was glad she didn't have to deal with that kind of bullshit in her line of work. Shit like that would drive her nuts. Probably end up shooting someone just to make them see sense.
"Anyway," he stepped across her and towards the edge of the abyss. "Here's where it happened. I'm standing about where Marion and the killer were." He moved carefully to the edge of the crevasse. "Can you get a good look at me?"
"No. That rock outcropping is in the way."
"Exactly. He used it as cover. And Marion as a shield on the other side." He rejoined her. "All Lucy had was a tiny Maglite she held in her left hand, the same hand she struggled to hold Adam with. She had her gun in her right, plus she was bleeding and in pain. All either of them would’ve been able to see was Marion being pulled over and maybe the briefest glimpse of the killer."
"Miracle she saw anything." Which meant there could have been a partner. A killer who was still alive. Jenna's pulse revved into overdrive.
Bob began leading the way back through the cave system.
"No one ever had any ideas about the killer's identity?" Jenna asked.
Bob hesitated, finger pushing his hat up, casting a shadow on the wall that looked like some kind of goblin chomping down a nasty meal. "No. There's only one man unaccounted for who was seen in this area."
"Who's that?" she asked after they navigated the narrow slope leading away from the cavern where the women had been imprisoned.
"The Penn State student Rachel Strohmeyer supposedly ran off with. He was reported missing a few days before she was abducted."
"Do his prints match the ones on the van?" If so, they could find DNA, see if it matched any of the rape kits… Except all this would have occurred to Lucy and the other investigators four years ago. "They don't, do they?"
"No. His camping gear was found down in Georgia, near the Appalachian Trail. He told his friends he wanted to hike it that spring. They figured after he and Rachel broke up, he decided to get an early start. Even got a postcard from him."
"Before or after Rachel went missing?"
"Two weeks after. Three days before she was found. His prints on it, verified."
Seemed awfully damned convenient. But also very possible. College kids did stupid shit things like that. "He hasn't been heard from since?"
"No. But in all the fuss with what happened up here, I don't think anyone other than his family has done much searching. Appalachian Trail, that's one helluva big crime scene to cover."
Jenna stopped, trying to read Bob's expression in the dim light. "You don't think he's there, do you? You think the killer had a partner."
"Or maybe he's not dead. I'm not sure. FBI sure wouldn't agree. But I can't help but wonder why Rachel Strohmeyer never gave us a statement. If the killer was dead, why wouldn't she? But if he was alive and threatening her…"
"You think her missing boyfriend might be the killer?" No, he'd be much too young to have begun a decade or more ago. "No. You think he might be a hostage? After all this time? Or a partner?"
He shrugged. "I don't know what to think anymore. Until you showed up, I thought I was the only person still asking questions. Wondering if I'd screwed up."
"How is that?"
There was a long silence. He took her hand once more as he led her over the narrow ledge with the drop off on the other side. He didn't let go once they were back on safe ground.
"Guess I can't stop thinking that if I'd gone with Lucy, if I'd been in that cave with her, maybe she wouldn't have gotten hurt and we could have saved Marion Caine."
<><><>
Taking the fish at the cabin in the middle of the Cuyahoga National Forest was ridiculously easy. Everyone let their guard down when they left the city.
Morgan liked the forest. Sounds were muffled. You could hear someone approach, but you also didn't need to worry about anyone hearing you until they were close. The thick foliage, hemlocks and rhododendrons, provided cover even now in the middle of winter.
Plus, it was peaceful. All the better to focus on the job at hand.
Clint let Morgan handle it all: from first approach to entry to subduing the fish with the stun gun. Then they were both inside the cabin with the fish on the floor between them. After that, everything happened just the way they planned.
Morgan skinned the fish of her clothing, then stood back to guard the only exit while Clint took his time getting to know her. The fish kept staring at Morgan, reaching a hand out. Idiot. Big mistake, thinking because Morgan was so young that was where salvation lay.
It always made Morgan laugh when they did that. It was so much fun to see their faces when Morgan knelt beside them, brushed their hair back oh so tenderly, then pressed cold steel to their cheeks, the point resting just below their eye.
Power. Sheer intoxicating power. Delightful the way it rushed through the veins.
Morgan first
discovered the rush playing with a stray cat back in Kansas. Then playing mind games with the fish who called themselves parents. But the games Clint taught Morgan? They opened a whole new world.
A world Morgan never tired of. Not as long as there were fish in the sea.
Chapter 14
When Lucy got to the sheriff's substation in the old Dairy Treat, she found the front counter where people used to order soft serve now served as a reception desk manned by a civilian aide. She identified herself and was buzzed through the door to the former kitchen area.
The sheriff's department had made only the bare minimum of changes. Budget constraints no doubt. After all, this entire substation existed only to assuage voter anxiety after finding a monster in their midst. Wasn't like New Hope was a high crime area. And with a staff of only seven deputies, no way the sheriff could maintain a presence here. Probably more like a quick stop once a day as they patrolled this side of the county.
The original white tile walls remained, along with stainless steel counters running the length of the room. The walk-in freezer's door had been replaced with a metal mesh security door to create a makeshift holding facility. The pantry door now had a window in its top half. Interview room, Lucy surmised.
Jenna had made herself at home. The postal inspector had commandeered a desk, computer, a sheriff's deputy, and what looked to be the only coffee pot. Not to mention someone's coffee mug. She and the deputy, William Bob, were head to head, deep in conversation. When they caught sight of Lucy, they broke away abruptly.
"Hey, Lucy," Jenna called out as if she hadn't just seen Lucy a few hours ago. "You know Deputy Bob, right?"
Bob hadn't changed in four years: still clean-shaven, with teeth so white they'd squeak if you ran your finger across them. But his smile wasn't for Lucy, it was aimed at Jenna, even as he straightened and shook Lucy's hand. "Nice to see you again, ma'am. Let me know if there's anything I can get you."
