by Dark Harbor
“I can’t think of anything they might have said that would precipitate the situation we have now. Certainly not the murders of Janey Harris and Joan Peceimer and possibly Terry Brown.”
“Doesn’t seem likely,” Young said. He got up. “Well, I’d better get back to work. Thanks for having a go at Caleb; you’ve saved us some time. Where’s Holly?”
“Out for her run, I expect.”
Young’s eyebrows went up.
“Don’t worry, she’s armed, and she’s very, very capable of taking care of herself.”
“She gives that impression,” Young said.
They shook hands, and the sergeant left.
40
STONE SAT DOWN in the study with a book to await Holly’s return. Over the years he had found that if he distracted himself from a problem for a while, his subconscious seemed to work on it in the background, and it would become clearer.
He read on for half an hour, then became drowsy. He rested his head on the back of the chair for a moment, and shortly he was sound asleep.
When he awoke, the shadows were long outside, and he looked at his watch: nearly seven o’clock. Mabel Hotchkiss came into the room.
“Excuse me, Stone, but will you and Holly be dining in tonight?”
“Yes, I think we will,” Stone said, standing up and stretching. “I was asleep for a while. Did Holly come back from her run?”
“I’ve been in the kitchen, so I haven’t seen her,” Mabel replied.
Stone sat down, picked up the phone and pressed the page button. “Holly? Are you in the house?” He could hear the echo of his voice around the place. “Holly?”
He hung up, then picked up the phone again and called her cell phone. He was shunted immediately to her voice mail.
“It’s Stone,” he said. “I’m worried about you. Please call me the minute you get this message. If I’m not in, try my cell phone.” He hung up.
Holly had been gone way too long, he reckoned. He grabbed his cell phone from the desk, then left and backed the MG out of the garage. At the end of the driveway, he stopped and wondered which way she had gone. A right turn would take her toward the village; he turned left, assuming she would want empty roads.
He drove along the road at a steady twenty miles an hour, checking every driveway as he passed. As he came around a curve he saw Holly down the road, running toward him, apparently just returning home. Where the hell had she been?
He slowed to a stop and pulled over, letting her run on toward him, vaguely angry with her for having worried him. As she ran, she pushed her sweatshirt hood off her head, and she wasn’t Holly. She was a teenaged boy. He flagged the boy down.
“Evening,” he said. “My name is Stone Barrington.”
“Oh, yes,” the boy said, “from the Stone house. I’m Tyler Morrow.” They shook hands. He appeared to be sixteen or seventeen.
“Have you seen another runner along your route?” Stone asked.
“A couple of them,” Tyler replied. “A man and a woman; I didn’t know either of them, which is unusual around here.”
“Were they together?”
“No. I saw them separately.”
“Can you describe the woman?”
“Oh, let’s see: mid-twenties, dark hair, five-three or-four, slim.”
Not Holly. “Are you sure you didn’t see another woman? I’m looking for a friend of mine who runs out this way.”
“Nope. Just the two.”
“Thanks very much, Tyler. If you should encounter a woman in her late thirties or early forties, five-nine, a hundred and thirty pounds, medium brown hair, will you please ask her if her name is Holly, and if it is, ask her to call Stone on his cell phone right away?”
“Sure. Be glad to.” With a wave, Tyler Morrow continued on his way.
Stone put the car in gear and began his search anew. He drove all the way to the southern tip of the island, checking every side road and driveway, seeing no sign of Holly. He turned the car around and got out his cell phone. No signal, low battery.
On his way back he turned down every side road and checked it, and by the time he got back to the house it was dark and lights were on inside. He garaged the car and let himself in. “Holly?” he yelled. “Are you home?”
Mabel came out of the kitchen. “I was just upstairs putting away some linens, and she wasn’t anywhere up there,” she said.
“Thank you, Mabel.”
“What time will you want dinner?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to eat until Holly is back. Can you put dinner in the fridge for us, and we’ll heat it up later?”
“It’s beef stew,” she said. “You can heat it in the microwave.”
Stone went to the phone and called Sergeant Young.
“This is Sergeant Tom Young,” a recorded voice said. “Please leave a message, and I’ll call you back as soon as I get in.”
“Sergeant, this is Stone Barrington. Holly Barker has not returned from her run, and I’m very concerned. I’m not sure exactly how long she’s been gone, but it’s several hours, and she’s never stayed out this long when running. I think you should let your search parties know about her. Please call me at your first opportunity.” He hung up, and his eyes came to rest on the coffee table. Holly’s cell phone was there. He picked it up and saw that it was switched off. She had no way to communicate.
He put the phone down and called Ed Rawls.
“Rawls,” the big man drawled.
“Ed, it’s Stone. You’ve heard about the two missing women?”
“They’re not missing anymore,” Rawls said. “They found the first body this morning. I’ve just come back from working with one of the search parties. Somebody in a boat who was patrolling the beach found the second body in the water a hundred yards out early this evening.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Stone said.
“Why did you call?”
“Holly is missing. She went out for a run hours ago and never came back. At least, I assume she went running; she didn’t take a car.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Rawls said.
41
STONE SAT IN THE darkening study, waiting for Sergeant Young to call him back. Lance. He should call Lance. He dialed his cell phone number and immediately got Lance’s voice mail.
“I’m out of the office,” Lance’s voice said, “and it’s unlikely I’ll be able to return calls for a day or two. You can leave a message, if you like.”
“Lance, it’s Stone. Holly is missing, has been gone for several hours. This is very alarming because two women were murdered on the island yesterday. I’ve notified the state police, who are conducting a search of the whole island anyway. If you get a chance, call me and tell me if you have any ideas.” He hung up.
Stone heated up some of the beef stew Mabel had prepared, but he couldn’t eat much. He wanted a drink or some wine with dinner, but he felt he had to keep a clear head. But for what? Young hadn’t called him back, he couldn’t reach Lance, and Holly might be out there somewhere, dying. He couldn’t imagine how someone could take her, armed and prepared as she was. He called Ed Rawls.
“Ed, Holly still isn’t back, but something occurred to me.”
“Tell me.”
“Sergeant Young believes that whoever took the two women yesterday was known to them. It occurs to me that, since Holly was armed, she may have know her kil…her abductor. She’s not the sort of person to be taken easily.”
“Makes sense to me,” Rawls said. “Who’ve you got in mind?”
“I don’t know; that’s the problem. She hardly knows anybody on the island.”
“Who, exactly, does she know?”
“She knows Seth and Mabel Hotchkiss, but they’re not candidates for this. She knows Sergeant Young, and he’s not a candidate, either. And she knows…” Stone stopped.
“Who, Stone?”
“Hal Rhinehart.”
“Who?”
“The cabinetmaker north of the village.”
&nbs
p; “Oh, yeah. I knew his old man. You think he’s a candidate?”
“He has a criminal background,” Stone said. “Dino and I busted him for a string of burglaries years ago, and he did four years or so.”
“Have you told this to Young?”
“No, he hasn’t returned my call. I can’t get ahold of Lance, either.”
“Why don’t you and I pay Rhinehart a visit? I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”
“Okay, and bring your shotgun.” He hung up.
Stone armed himself, put on a jacket and waited at the end of the driveway for Rawls, who turned up quickly in his Range Rover. He got into the car.
“Tell me about this guy,” Rawls said.
“Master burglar, very sharp mind.”
“How’d he meet Holly?”
“I took her to his workshop; she wanted to meet him for herself. We both eliminated him as a suspect after that visit. The guy has a successful business, which he inherited from his father, and he has a wife and a baby. He seemed stable and happy with his circumstances.”
“Is he strong enough to overpower Holly?”
“Yes, if he could neutralize her before she could get hold of her weapon.”
“That’s good enough for me,” Rawls said.
They had passed through the village and were headed north. “There’s the sign up ahead,” Stone said. “Drive on past, and we’ll work our way back.”
Rawls drove past the house without slowing and, when he saw a narrow road to the right, cut his lights and turned in, using his gears to slow the big vehicle so as not to use his brakes, thus turning on the brake lights. Through the trees on their right they could see both the workshop and the house. The workshop was dark, but lights burned in the house windows.
“How do you want to do this?” Rawls asked, grabbing his shotgun from the rear seat.
“First, let’s check the workshop and any outbuildings,” Stone said. “Then we’ll see what we can see through the house windows.”
“All right. Is this guy likely to have an alarm system?”
“Yes,” Stone said. “Come on.” He began walking through the trees toward the workshop, and Rawls followed.
HOLLY CAME TO SLOWLY. Her head hurt on the right side. She tried to put a hand to it, but found herself spread-eagled on a bed, her hands and feet tied. Her mouth was taped shut, and so were her eyes. There was something in each ear, too, shutting out sound.
All she could do was smell, and she concentrated on that. Mildew. Maybe salt water. She tried rolling back and forth on the bed as far as she could, to see if she could feel the weight of her firearm. She thought it was still there. The bed made squeaking noises. Bare springs under a thin mattress. The mildew smell was coming from the mattress. Old. Disused. She thought she picked up the smell of rotting wood, too.
She tried twisting her hands and feet to shake loose at least one limb. She felt the head of an iron bedstead, rusted. She was tied to that. God, her head hurt.
STONE AND RAWLS worked their way around the workshop to the side away from the house. A breeze brought the scent of the sea, apparently not far away, through the trees. Stone could see some small source of light inside the workshop, and he crept closer for a look through a window.
Suddenly, they were bathed in bright light. “Shit, motion detectors,” Stone said. “That’ll bring him running. Let’s get out of here.”
They ran in the direction opposite the one they had come, hiding behind some bushes. They flushed a deer, which ran toward the house as the porch light of the house came on and Hal Rhinehart came out the door, a shotgun in his hand. He raised it to his shoulder for a shot at the animal, but it was gone. “It was just a deer,” he shouted to his wife.
He came toward the workshop, the shotgun at the ready, and circumnavigated it, then went back into the house and turned off the porch light.
“That was a near thing,” Rawls said.
“Yes, it was. I’m glad he didn’t have a dog with him.”
“You think the house has those lights, too?”
“Probably. I expect he has two alarm systems, one for the workshop and one for the house. You noticed that only the porch light went on when he came out?”
“Yeah, he probably hadn’t armed the system.”
“He may have by now.”
“You’ve been inside the workshop?”
“Yes, a couple of times.”
“What’s in there?”
“A big workroom with a lot of power tools, an office, a storeroom, or what appeared to be one. Probably a paint shop, too.”
“Let’s see if there are any other outbuildings,” Rawls said.
They walked through the woods, keeping the house on their left. “All I see is what appears to be a shed for tools or wood,” Stone said.
“Well, Young and his crowd would have searched the premises by now, wouldn’t they?”
“I don’t know where the hell they are,” Stone said.
He didn’t know where the hell Holly was, either.
42
HOLLY WOKE UP with a start. It had been chilly, but it was warming up. Must be daylight. The tape over her eyes allowed no light to enter. She needed to pee really badly, and she struggled again with her bonds, trying to free herself. If she could just get one hand free…
Then she heard a noise, a door closing. Footsteps, lightly, on stairs, then somebody was in the room with her. She tried to speak but could only make noises through her nose. She listened carefully.
Someone approached the bed where she lay. There was a metallic clank next to the bed, then whoever he was grabbed her sweatpants by the thighs and pulled them down. She struggled, but he pulled down the cotton underwear she was wearing, too, then put an arm under her waist, lifted her off the bed and shoved something made of cold metal under her ass. A bedpan. She peed, long and gratefully.
When she had finished, he removed the bedpan, pulled her panties and sweatpants up. Then she heard the sound of paper or cellophane being crinkled. Suddenly, the tape was ripped off her mouth.
“What the hell…” she was saying, but something was crammed into her mouth, filling it. Candy bar. She chewed madly, trying to swallow so she could talk, but the second she got it down, he was pouring water into her mouth. She swallowed, washing down the candy bar, but before she could speak, she heard a ripping noise, and her mouth was taped again. Duct tape, she reckoned. He seemed to inspect her bonds, one at a time, to be sure they hadn’t loosened.
She heard him walk across the room and open a door, then the sound of the bedpan being emptied and a toilet being flushed, then running water. He walked down the stairs, and she heard a door open and close. He hadn’t said a word.
STONE LAY ON HIS BED trying to sleep, telling himself he would be no good to Holly if he was exhausted. Finally, very late, he dozed off. He woke to the sound of the ringing telephone. He rolled over in bed and grabbed it. “Hello?”
“It’s Sergeant Young. Has Holly returned?”
“No, Sergeant, she hasn’t, and I’m beyond being just worried.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get your message earlier, but I’ve been to the mainland and back.”
“Can you keep an eye out for her in your search?”
“We’ve completed most of the search,” Young said. “I had forty people tramping every foot of the island, and we’ve done two-thirds of it. Then the second woman’s body was found, and I called it off because nobody was missing anymore.”
Stone looked at his watch: eight-fifteen. “Well, you’ve got to get the search going again,” he said, “because whoever is doing this has taken Holly, and he’s getting more dangerous.”
“Why more dangerous?”
“It’s a pattern with some serial killers: Their pace accelerates, they enjoy it more and more. Sometimes they become more reckless, as if they want to get caught.”
“But some of these people go on for years, almost on a regular schedule.”
“Not this guy. He w
ants more and more, and he’s getting it. He may stop for a few days, but he won’t be able to resist starting again. Three women in less than forty-eight hours: Doesn’t that tell you something?”
“I’ll get on the phone and get some people together. What time did you last see Holly yesterday?”
“About noon, when I went to lunch with Caleb Stone.”
“So we can ignore the parts of the island we searched after noon and concentrate on the rest.”
“Good idea. Have you searched Hal Rhinehart’s place?”
“Not yet.”
“Please go there first.”
“Why?”
“Rhinehart has a criminal background. Dino and I got him for a series of high-end burglaries in New York years ago. He’s done time.”
“Did any of the burglaries have sexual overtones? Did he rape any of his victims?”
“Not that we knew of, but still…”
“All right, we’ll start there.”
“I want to come with you.”
“I’ll pick you up in half an hour.” Young hung up.
Stone got dressed and had some cereal in the kitchen while Mabel protested that he should eat some bacon and eggs. He was waiting at the roadside when Young drove up in his patrol car. There were two men in the backseat who looked more like locals than summer people. Young introduced them, then drove on north.
“You don’t look so good,” he said as he drove.
“I didn’t get any real sleep,” Stone said. “I’m tired.”
“I understand.”
They reached the Rhinehart sign and turned onto the drive. Hal Rhinehart came out of the house as they drove up, apparently on the way to work.
“Morning,” he said, looking doubtfully at the four men. “What’s going on?”
“Mr. Rhinehart,” the sergeant said, “we need to search your place.”
“Have you got a warrant?”
Stone spoke up. “Come on, Hal,” he said, “we’re looking for a woman who disappeared yesterday. You know we can get a warrant, but if you don’t let us search, then you’ll automatically be a suspect. Just let us get this done.”
