by Mary Burton
Squatting, she studied the bones for less than a minute. “Detective Kier.”
He came into the room. “Yeah?”
“The bones aren’t human.”
“Say that again?”
She rose and stripped off her gloves. “Not human. I’d say a bear’s hind claw.”
“What?”
Paulie snorted his laughter.
“Don’t feel bad,” the doctor said smoothly. “It has the distinct appearance of a human hand when stripped of the flesh.”
Malcolm rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Shit.”
“What about the other bones?” Angie said.
“Appear to be animal.”
“Why have the bones?”
“From what I remember from my trip to the museum, Mr. Talbot was an avid hunter. This likely was one of his kills.”
Garrison appeared in the doorway of the unit. Malcolm had faxed museum employee files as well as the names of the board members. It had surprised Malcolm to see that Louise Cross served on the board of the Talbot for a brief time. “You found Gentle Ben?”
“It was his little brother.” Malcolm figured he’d never hear the end of it. He’d learned long ago to let the jabs of other cops roll off his back. The more defensive he got, the more they circled, like sharks around blood. “You find anyone of interest?”
Garrison motioned him out into the hallway. “So far, I contacted eight of the thirty names, and all had either died or moved out of the D.C. metro area. Starting to feel like I’m chasing ghosts. Sinclair is running down the last names.”
Malcolm glanced back into the room at Angie. He dropped his voice a notch when he asked, “What about Louise Cross?”
Garrison pulled a pack of gum from his pocket. “Her position on the board would have meant she knew the players of that time. But she and the boys were in Europe for that entire summer.”
“But she knew Blue, Frank, and Darius. And I’ll bet money she knew Fay.”
“Do you really believe she’d talk to us?” Garrison said.
“No,” Malcolm said. “But she would talk to Eva.”
“We’ve been through this. I won’t put her through that.”
“She’s a big girl,” Malcolm said.
“I see what no one else sees,” Garrison said. “Louise Cross left her with emotional scars that will never heal. And now that she’s pregnant …”
“She’s pregnant?”
Garrison let some tension ease. “Yeah. We’re getting married as soon as we can arrange it.”
Malcolm nodded. “I didn’t think you had it in you, old man.”
“I manage from time to time.” Garrison’s mood darkened. “I want her to have no contact with that woman.”
“Garrison is right,” Angie said as she approached.
“What, do you have dog ears?” Malcolm said.
“Just about,” she said. “Eva is to be kept out of this.” The steel in her voice promised one hell of a fight if anyone tried to do otherwise.
“We need to talk to Louise,” Malcolm said.
“She might settle for the next best thing,” Angie said. “Me.”
Malcolm shifted. “You?”
“I’ll talk to Louise and ask her any questions you want. Set it up.”
It was Malcolm’s turn to worry. “It won’t be easy for you. I promise if she knows something about your father she will use it against you.”
Angie shook her head. “Let her try.”
“So I can set it up?” Garrison said.
“As soon as I talk to Micah,” Angie countered.
“Him? Why?” Malcolm didn’t hide his frustration.
“I need to offer full disclosure. Besides, Micah cooperated fully with police last year. I doubt he’ll have an issue with the visit.”
“And if he does?”
Her lips flattened. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Detective Kier, if it was your mother you’d want to know.”
“My mother runs a restaurant. She isn’t a serial killer serving three consecutive life sentences.”
“You’d care even if your mother had three heads. You’re the kind of guy who built his world around family.”
“Maybe.” Yes.
“Nearly thirty years is a long time for a killer to remain dormant.”
“It’s rare but not unlikely.” He stared at her, searching for any trepidation. “You aren’t afraid to see her?”
“Please. I am the master of mind games. I’ve interviewed my share of prisoners.”
“She’s different.” He leaned forward and dropped his voice a notch. “We both know it. She might be the key to an active murder case, and you are the key to her.”
“So, I play into her fantasies about Eva and then see if I can get her to open up. We have nothing to lose.”
He had to agree. “Right now I got nothing on this case. Nothing. I need to take the chance that she will talk.”
She shoved out a sigh, turned, and crossed the room to a desk by the window where she’d left her Black-Berry. She checked her calendar. “When do you want to go?”
He crossed, keeping the distance between them at a minimum. “It’s a two-hour drive. Would Monday morning work?”
“I’ve got a seven p.m. meeting with Cross this evening. That will give me the chance to get his approval. You a morning person?”
“I’m any kind of person I need to be.”
“How about six a.m. on Monday? I’m not in court and can make up the work at night.”
“Okay.”
“You look surprised, Detective.”
“I’m used to you throwing up road blocks, not solving problems.”
“Believe it or not I do have a soul.”
His laugh rang genuine this time. “That’s what all the Children of the Night say.”
Charlotte arrived at the offices of Wellington and James at six-fifteen. She and Angie were scheduled to have a seven p.m. meeting with Micah Cross to discuss the contract she’d drawn up.
Charlotte liked to arrive early. It gave her time to prepare and run through her checklist. Doors locked? Windows secured? Closets bad-guy free? She could refrain from the routine when Iris or Angie were here, but when she was alone she checked all the places bad guys could hide.
Stupid. Illogical.
In fact her therapist would encourage her to have a “conversation” with the empty spaces and ask them why they scared her so much.
“Well,” she muttered, “because three years ago a lunatic had slipped into my office and shot me in my gut.”
The absurdity of her train of thought would have made her smile if it all wasn’t so pathetic. She raised her finger to the keypad on the front door, a grocery sack filled with cookies and fruits dangling from her arm. She’d ventured into the grocery and bought a few refreshments for today’s meeting.
It was a good and polite thing to offer guests refreshments. It was something she’d never done naturally— sharing always went against her grain. But she’d learned that refined women offered tea and cookies.
She pushed open the door. The alarm dinged its countdown as she moved across the room to the keypad and punched in the code: Mariah.
Setting her bags down, she turned to relock the front door and get ready for her meeting. To her surprise, Micah Cross stood in the doorway. He wore a camel coat that cut him mid-calf, a dark suit, and a white turtleneck. His highly polished shoes reflected the porch light.
In one fluid move, Charlotte jumped, screamed, and dropped her grocery bag. The sound of glass breaking signaled that the bottle of honey she’d bought had broken. “Micah!”
He held up his smooth hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me call your name from across the street.”
Her heart pounded so hard she feared it would crack through her chest. “I didn’t hear.”
Breathe. Breathe. Shit!
&nbs
p; “I scared you.”
“No. Just startled me.” She kept her fears in close check. But right now they ran rampant like marauding Huns, laying waste to all good sense.
He maintained his distance as if sensing her fear. “We have a meeting.”
“Yes. Yes. I know.” She glanced at the bag crumpled around her feet but couldn’t quite take her gaze off of Micah. This was so not like her. She got rattled all the time, but she could function. Now she felt like a deer caught in a hunter’s sites.
“The meeting was for six-thirty.”
“I had seven on my calendar.” She sighed. He was just early.
“God, no wonder I scared you.”
“Not scared.” And to prove it she gritted her teeth and gathered the strawberries that had rolled out on the carpet. “Just startled. But I’m fine.” Right now if she had a moment she’d talk to her fear and ask it, What the fuck gives? Stop rattling me!
She rose, clutching her bag in a white-knuckle grip. “We just got our wires crossed. Happens all the time.”
He jabbed his thumb toward the door. “I can leave and come back. We can do this at seven.”
“No. No. This is silly. I’ve got the contracts all drawn up and ready to sign.” She offered a weary smile. “I planned to offer you strawberries, but I’m afraid they’re bruised now.”
“I appreciate the gesture.” He clasped his hands together. “Could we head to the back and sign the contracts? That really would suit. I’ve got a meeting with my marketing department at eight.”
“Sure. Sure. Let’s go.” She glanced toward the darkened hallway that cut through the center of her office. She hated the dark. But to show weakness would ruin her reputation. Ball busters didn’t worry about what went bump in the night.
Squaring her shoulders, she moved to the hallway and flipped on the light. She expected her nerves to settle once the fluorescents kicked in, but her nerves still danced and tweaked.
She smiled at Micah. “Have a seat in the conference room. I’ll get those contracts.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She hurried to her office, dumped her bag in a chair, and pressed trembling hands to her flushed face. “God, this is such bullshit.” Her doctor had suggested medication, but she’d flatly refused. Now that she stood at the edge of a major panic attack she questioned the decision not to take meds.
The chime covering the front door dinged. To Charlotte’s relief she heard Angie say, “I’m here! Is everything all right? The door wasn’t locked.”
Charlotte wasn’t alone. She would be fine. She shrugged off her coat and smoothed her hands over her waist. “In here. Mr. Cross and I were just about to review the contracts.”
Angie ducked into Charlotte’s office. “He’s here? Did I mess up the time?”
Charlotte shook her head. “No. He did,” she whispered. “He startled me, and I forgot to lock the door. So stupid.”
Angie gripped the handle of her briefcase. “You okay?”
“Great. And I’m ready to sign some papers.”
“All right.”Angie studied her. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Right as rain.”
They found Micah standing in the conference room, his hands clasped behind his back as he studied a painting on the wall. They all exchanged pleasantries, took seats at the table, and reviewed the contracts. As they were ready to sign, Angie cleared her throat.
“In the interest of full disclosure I want to tell you that the police asked me to travel to Statesville and visit your mother.”
Micah sat back in his chair. “My mother? Why? Has she been writing Eva again?”
“No. This has to do with a case that goes back nearly thirty years.” She explained where she’d been most of the day.
Charlotte’s fragile control ebbed as she listened to Angie explain the situation. What the hell?
Her mind skipped from the odd announcement to the billable hours that would fly out on Monday while Angie gallivanted around the countryside playing junior detective. But with Micah present, she didn’t air her thoughts.
“Of course you should go,” Micah said. “And let me know if I can be of any help.”
Angie smiled. “Thanks.”
It was all very civilized and normal, and yet Charlotte could not shake the sense that something was wrong.
Intellectually she knew her fears linked directly to her post-traumatic stress, but on an emotional level she simply sensed danger that was as real to her as the breeze that blew outside or the table and chairs in the room.
As the clock chimed in midnight, he rose from the bed and stared down at his angel of death.
He’d spent almost twenty hours with her. Too much time. He had to let her go.
Now he warmed the water to one hundred and ten degrees. Too warm and the heat would scar and discolor the bones. Too cool and the flesh-stripping process took too long.
And he wanted the bones stripped and ready to present soon.
He knelt down and lifted the woman’s body. Lifeless, her frame felt heavy, unwieldy, and stiff as he lifted her and laid her into the water. She floated for just an instant before sinking, her face slowly descending below the muddy surface. Blond hair skimmed the surface as if clinging to the light, but the weight of her body slowly sucked all traces of hair and bone below the surface.
He checked his watch. It would take thirty-six hours before most of the flesh fell from the bones. He’d bleach the bones, and then he’d find the perfect place to display them.
He dipped his fingertips in the water and swirled them around in circles.
He wanted Kier and Garrison to find his work of art and to wonder and search. He wanted to see the fear and concern as they all tried to guess if there would be more victims.
And of course, there would be more.
He’d been careful to cover all his tracks. He’d created so many fail-safe scenarios that no one would ever find him.
He had finally escaped the shackles of fear.
No one would ever catch him.
And he was free to kill for years to come.
Chapter 21
Monday, October 10, 9 A.M.
The ride south to the correctional facility took just under two hours. Kier drove, dodging in and out of the morning rush of traffic with a lightning quickness that took Angie’s breath away.A couple of times she gripped the door when he skittered behind an eighteen-wheeler, but she said nothing. Several times she caught the hint of a smile on his lips. He was enjoying this. He liked the speed and the fast pace. And the fact that she was on edge was icing on the cake.
But worrying about traffic and near misses was preferable to obsessing about the woman they were about to visit.
Louise Cross was a true sociopath. The world, as far as she was concerned, revolved around her.
She’d justified her killing spree last year by crying revenge. She’d killed to avenge her dead son Josiah, who had been murdered. However, her vengeance had taken on a life unto itself. Once she’d killed those she’d believed were guilty of her son’s death, she’d gone after Eva, the one person who’d had nothing to do with the crime.
Angie believed if Louise had not been stopped she’d have continued to kill. The taste of blood, once she’d savored her first sip, was too sweet to forget. She craved death and killing like an addict.
As they pulled up in front of the stone and barbwired gates of the prison, she let a sigh of relief seep out through her clenched teeth. “I’d say you set a land-speed record today, Detective.”
He shut off the engine and faced her. “Sorry, no records today.”
She brushed imaginary lint from her lap. “You’re joking?”
“The traffic slowed me down. I’ll bet I shave twenty minutes on the return trip.”
“Please don’t rush on my account. Really.” She got out of the car, savoring the crunch of steady, solid ground under her feet.
“Ah, come on, Counselor, where’s your sense of adventure?” He cl
osed his door and came around to her side of the car.
“I save it for vacations.” She glanced up at the prison’s gray walls, swallowing the tightness in her throat.
“So what is your idea of a good vacation? And please tell me you’re not one of those people who like to lie on the beach and bake.”
She appreciated his attempts to distract her, even if they didn’t quite work. “No, that’s not for me.”
They moved toward the central office, where Kier checked his gun. They passed through a metal detector, and the guards searched Angie’s purse.
“I don’t see you on vacation,” he said. “I see you toiling away twenty-four/seven, three hundred and sixty-five days a year.”
She thought back to her last vacation. Was it three years ago? Or four? “I dance on the wild side occasionally.”
He laughed. “Like one of those cruises where they feed you all day while you sit in deck chairs?”
“On my last vacation I hiked Kilimanjaro.”
He raised a brow. “You’re kidding?”
“Nope. I love the outdoors. I spend so much time inside for the job that I get out whenever I can.”
“Never would have figured that of you.”
Their banter carried her through security and down the hallway to the visiting center. Because Louise was high risk, Angie would speak to her through a thick glass pane using a telephone. But of course that was assuming Louise showed. She was within her rights to refuse the interview.
Angie took her seat in the hard plastic chair in front of the viewing window. Kier clasped his hands behind his back and stood with his feet braced, a silent sentry. He’d not told her he’d be there for her if things got rough, but she knew he would.
Her back ramrod straight, Angie did her best to shove her nerves aside. Louise would latch on to any visible weakness and use it against her.
“It’ll be fine,” Kier said softly, clearly.
She caught his reflection in the glass. He stared at her. “I know.”
“Relax your shoulders.”
She shrugged them up and down. “They are relaxed.”
A hint of a smile tipped the edge of his lips. “Your spine looks ready to snap. Louise will see your fear and use it.”
