Fraser didn’t answer.
“He seems to be following the order of this passage.”
“Maybe. I don’t know about the tongue though. Eve had the same verse attached to her as to the Tallmadge woman.”
Nick opened his desk drawer and pulled out a Michigan map. “Rock Harbor. Where the heck is that?” He scanned the map and whistled softly through his teeth. “That’s in the UP.” He looked up at Fraser.
Fraser dropped into a chair. “This could be our break—a murder this old and he’s only now revealing it. He’s getting bold. Your dad thinks we should get up to Rock Harbor and check it out.”
Nick stood and grabbed his sport jacket from the back of his chair. “Let’s go now.” He stopped in the doorway. “Wait, when was this posted?”
“Saturday night, and the body was found yesterday.”
“If we could only figure out his motive. He’s a missionary killer, but what triggers him? And why blonde dancers?”
Fraser shrugged. “They all have a similar look—slim and elegant with great bone structure,” Fraser said. “Eve fit that profile. If we knew where he first saw her, we might be able to figure out who he is and why he killed her.”
Nick picked up the picture of Eve. “All the victims so far were ballerinas at some point. I think he saw Eve at the ballet.”
“In New York? You realize how hard it would be to narrow that field? Thousands of people saw her perform.”
Watching her glide across the stage as if she had wings had been the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Nick’s throat clenched.
He nodded, then grabbed up the files and stuffed them in his briefcase. “Do we have airline tickets?”
“I had Marge check airlines and times. There isn’t another one until middle of the afternoon, and the trip is nearly five hours with the layover in Minneapolis. So nine hours away. You might as well drive. You’d get there about the same time, and at least you’d have your car.”
“Aren’t you coming?”
Fraser shook his head. “I can’t go until later this week. My daughter has a dance recital tonight, and Gail’s got a short business trip. I’m on Dad Duty. I’ll drive up first thing I can.”
“If I’d been smart enough to put my family first, they might still be alive,” Nick said. He didn’t wait for an answer, since there was none.
He drove home in a fugue of memory. Walking to the front door of his miniscule apartment, he couldn’t help his thoughts from wandering to how it used to be. Eve greeting him at the door with a smile. Keri running to meet him. This apartment felt cold and sterile, devoid of memories or life. No plants. Eve loved plants and flowers. Their house had been filled with them.
At least the bedroom looked lived in, since he came home long enough to sleep. He dragged the suitcase off the closet shelf and began to stuff his clothes and toiletries into it. By ten, he was back in his Dodge Durango and heading out of town.
He took I-75 north, barely noticing the names of the towns he passed as the big tires on his SUV ate up the miles: West Branch, Grayling, Wolverine. Only after he crossed the Mackinac Bridge and turned onto Highway 2 at St. Ignace did he manage to tear his thoughts away from the past.
And he remembered he needed help. He pulled out his cell phone and called Oliver. “Hey, buddy, I’ve got another one.”
“Problems, Nicky?”
“Yeah. Bones found in the UP. I need them identified pronto. You free?”
“Whereabouts in the UP? I have a cabin up near Ontonagon and was planning on going up for some fishing anyway. I was just heading there today, actually.”
“Rock Harbor.”
He gave his customary ho-ho laugh. “Ah, about thirty miles from my fishing hole. Let me get settled, and I’ll come over and take a look. Just let me get some fishing in too.”
“Thanks, Oliver, I owe you.” He closed his phone and concentrated on his driving.
There was hardly anything up here. He passed mile after mile of beautiful but desolate scenery and villages barely big enough to slow down for. At Rapid River he turned onto 41 and drove to Marquette, where he stopped to eat. The café waitress recommended something called a pasty—pronounced like nasty—and he was surprised to find the meat pie much more delicious than it sounded.
Still wiping his mouth from lunch, he got back in his truck and headed west until he reached 38. Rock Harbor wouldn’t be far now. The sun, low on the horizon, glared in his eyes. Eve would have loved this area. She had loved beauty wherever she could find it.
It was after nine by the time he reached the Rock Harbor city limits. Twilight lit the Victorian buildings with golden light. He drove through a town that could have been the model for a Currier and Ives drawing that hung in their dining room. Totally charming. The street he was on changed to Negaunee, and he saw the twinkle of a lighthouse in the distance.
The glimmer of Lake Superior attracted his gaze. He’d never seen it before today. The Ojibwa called it Kitchigami, which meant “giver of life.” He could only wish the magical Great Lake would give him a new lease on his future.
A cold wind blew through his open window, but it wasn’t nearly as cold as the look in Eve’s eyes the last time he’d seen her.
He parked in front of the sheriff’s office. The big stone building seemed out of place among the more elegant storefronts. He stepped inside onto a tile floor and almost ran into a man about forty with brown hair and eyes. “Sorry.”
The other man nodded and exited the building. A big blond guy pulled his feet from off a battered desk and turned to face him. His blue eyes looked Nick up and down as if to ask what right he had to come in here.
Nick flipped out his badge. “Captain Nikos Andreakos, Michigan State Police, violent crimes unit.”
The man stood, and the challenging expression disappeared. “Deputy Doug Montgomery.”
Nick quickly labeled him Deputy Dawg. He looked like the hound in the old cartoon, too, heavy jowls, sleepy eyes. If Nick remembered right, he even had an old comic with the good deputy in it.
Hiding his smile, he tried to pay attention to the deputy. “Is the sheriff in tonight?”
“He’s out of the country right now. I’m in charge. You’re here about the murder, eh? Have a seat, and I’ll get you some coffee. You moved fast after my request for help.”
The guy’s accent must be the Yooper one he’d heard about. When the deputy returned with a steaming cup of coffee, Nick nodded his thanks. “Can you clue me in?”
“Not much to clue in. Bones found in the forest. Female. That’s all we know. A hunter or two missing in the last five or six years, but no one to match her with.”
“I’ve got some help coming up tomorrow. A forensic sculptor.”
Montgomery’s forehead creased. “Forensic sculptor, eh?”
“He takes casts of remains and adds a layer of clay to simulate flesh and skin so we can put out a picture to the media for identification. We need to nail down the identity ASAP.”
“You’re thinking the perp will do it again, eh?”
“This is the fourth that I know of.”
Montgomery’s expression sobered. “Serial killer?”
Nick nodded. “Goes by Gideon. Leaves bodies at geocaching sites. You heard of him?”
“If it doesn’t affect us, we don’t pay much attention.”
Nick grunted. He could only hope the man wouldn’t get in his way. “Any evidence at the scene?”
“Clean as the big lake. Not a hair, not a print. We found some mumbo jumbo on the geocaching Web site, but you probably know all about that.” Doug waited until Nick nodded. “You sure it’s the same guy?”
“Yeah.” Nick put his hands in his pocket and moved to the wall map without answering. “Show me where the body was found.”
The deputy joined him and pointed a finger big as a sausage at a point on the map. “Right there.”
“Who found the body?”
“Two women out doing the geocaching thing. Br
ee Matthews and Elena Cox.”
“How can I get in touch with them? I’d like to interview them about what they saw.”
“They live at the lighthouse on the outskirts of town. Pretty place.”
Nick nodded. “I saw it. I’ll head out there now.”
ELENA’S HEAD STILL SWAM EVEN THOUGH SHE WAS LYING ON the bed. She needed to talk to the man who claimed to know her. Yesterday, when she’d recovered from her faint, she had rushed to her room to be alone. His deep voice had resonated up the stairway and through her door, but she couldn’t summon the strength to go talk to him. She fell asleep quickly and then spent most of the next day in her room.
He’d asked why she was using an assumed name. To find she’d been wrong about all she thought she knew made her feel she was swimming over a bottomless pit. What else might she discover when she talked to him?
If only she could pull back the blanket that smothered her memories. Every time she tried to tug away a corner of the blackness, she found nothing but mist. She fingered the small scar on her temple. The cut on her rib had been made by a knife, the doctor had said. Was Terri’s father the man in her nightmares? Was Will? She shuddered and dropped her hand.
She had to know. Going on like this any longer wasn’t an option.
She decided to face her past and left the room to talk with Bree. The CD player was blaring out Elvis music as she passed Davy’s room, and she saw him and Terri dancing with the dog. Samson pranced around the floor with his tail high. The kitten swatted at their feet as they moved past her.
How could she recognize Elvis’s voice but not remember her own daughter’s birth? It made no sense. She could drive a car, make spaghetti, put on her makeup, remember every ballet movement—a million things that required memory. But she had no idea what she felt for her husband, no clue if she had parents, siblings. No idea of the job she did before Bree found her.
She walked slowly downstairs.
In the living room, Bree glanced up. “You okay?”
Elena sighed. “I’m sorry to bail on you today. Thanks for taking care of Terri.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Bree patted the sofa cushion next to her. Elena sat down.
“Did he tell you who I was?”
Bree shook her head. “I asked, but he said if you were hiding something, he wasn’t going to squeal without your permission.”
“I’m not hiding anything. I don’t remember!”
“I know. That’s what I told him, but he was adamant. He left his address. I guess he doesn’t have a phone.”
Elena took the scrap of paper. A highway and building number were scrawled beneath the words Job’s Children. “What’s Job’s Children?” she asked.
Bree frowned. “I’m not exactly sure. It’s a community of sorts not far from here. But they’re new, and no one I asked seems to know much about them. They keep to themselves.”
Elena hadn’t come this far to turn back now. If there was some way to discover who she was, she intended to find out tonight. “Can I use the computer a minute?”
“Sure. That’s a great idea.” Bree came toward her. “I started to look up stuff the other day but got interrupted. We have more information now. Let’s see what we can find out about you. Maybe there’s something in the news.”
Elena’s steps lagged. The lost memory felt like a monster swimming below the great waves out on Superior. Just waiting to swallow her up.
“What’s wrong?” Bree asked.
“What if it’s really bad?”
“You can’t fight something you don’t know,” Bree said, her fingers taking Elena’s elbow. “You showed up here, battered and injured. Now we have a dead body. I don’t want you to be the next one killed. We have to understand what we’re dealing with.” She steered Elena to the office and sat her down at the computer.
Elena delayed putting her fingers on the keyboard by reaching over to trim dead leaves from the philodendron on the table.
“Quit fooling with the plant. Let’s check it out.”
Elena rubbed the dirt from her hands onto her jeans and put her hands on the keyboard, but she wanted to jump and run. She launched the browser and went to Google. She typed in geocaching serial killer. Her fingers hovered over the keys. If she was connected with this in some way, maybe it would show up. She added the keywords missing woman and hit the enter key.
A flurry of listings appeared. The very first one screamed out at her: MISSING WOMAN FEARED DEAD AT HANDS OF SERIAL KILLER.
Bree gasped beside her and reached over to run the cursor over the link. “How smart to add the search words missing woman.” She clicked the link, and the news article appeared. She scrolled down and stopped when a picture of Elena and Terri smiling at each other rolled into view.
“It’s you. You and Terri,” Bree whispered. Leaning over Elena’s shoulder, she touched the screen. “I can’t believe it.”
“I can’t read it,” Elena whispered. She covered her face with her hands.
Bree pulled up a chair beside her and sat down. “I’ll read it.”
Elena had to face this—whatever it was. Terri’s life depended on it. She slowly put her hands down and forced herself to read.
Bree was already reading it aloud. “According to this, a serial killer, one who leaves his victims at geocaching sites, was thought to have attacked you and taken your body to dispose of. There’s a statewide search going on for you,” Bree said, still reading. “Your name is Eve Andreakos, not Elena Cox.” She frowned. “And even Terri’s name is Keri, not what we thought.”
“She doesn’t say K very well,” Elena said. No, not Elena. Eve. She tried on the new name and found it felt oddly familiar. “I was attacked by a serial killer, not . . . not an abusive husband?”
Bree looked up, and their gazes locked. “I’d thought that, too, that maybe you were the victim of domestic violence.” She turned her attention back to the screen. “You were married to a Nikos Andreakos, a state cop. You’re divorced.”
Nikos Andreakos. That name meant nothing. Eve began to read again. “He’s been investigating this serial killer, Gideon.” The name on her lips felt vile. “Gideon.” She jumped to her feet, knocking over her chair in the process. Stumbling back, she clutched her arms around herself.
Bree followed and grabbed her hand. “It’s okay, Ele—I mean Eve. We’re here for you. We need to let your family know you’re alive. The state police will protect you.”
“They didn’t protect me in the first place.”
“They know he’s after you now. Do the names trigger anything? Anything at all?” Bree asked.
Eve shook her head. “Nothing.” She had to think this through. Figure out what to do, how to protect her daughter.
“Maybe it will come back now.”
Eve pulled her hand out of Bree’s grasp. “I want to see what else it says.” The computer screen called her back. Knowledge was power. Sitting back down in front of the computer, she read through the different articles.
“He’s killed at least three people,” she said. Then she gasped. “Look! This body they found right after I showed up here—they think it’s me! But they haven’t got an official identification yet. He puts clues from religious texts on the geocaching site. And mutilates the body in some way.” She clutched her stomach. “Before he kills them.”
“What a sick puppy,” Bree said.
“If only I could remember what he looks like,” Eve said, pressing her fingers against her temples. The more she fought against the suffocating blanket around her memories, the more her memories slipped away.
“Don’t try to think about it,” Bree advised. “You’ll just make yourself crazy. Let’s go see Doug and have him make a call to Nikos.”
“I don’t want to see this Nick person.” She felt nearly as panicked at the thought of this unknown ex-husband as she did about Gideon. There was something extremely disorienting about thinking of having shared a life—a bed—with a man she didn’t know anything a
bout.
“You called him Nick,” Bree said. “Not Nikos. Are you remembering?”
Eve put her hand to her throat. “I think everyone calls him Nick.” She couldn’t explain how she knew this. “I want to see what he looks like.” She typed in Nikos Andreakos Michigan State Police and hit enter.
The first site was the Michigan State Police Web site. She went there, but it didn’t have a picture, just a press release about Nick being appointed to oversee the special unit in charge of the Gideon investigation. The next few links were news articles. On the third try she hit the jackpot.
The Web page loaded, and a picture of several men in front of a courthouse popped up. Captain Nikos Andreakos was identified as the man in the middle.
“Hard to see him,” Bree observed.
The picture was fuzzy and only showed him from the side. Dark, curly hair was the only clearly distinguishing feature.
Eve felt something break inside. Her eyes burned as she stared at the man in the photo. Clasping her arms around herself, she began to weep, harsh sobs that seemed to erupt from someplace deep inside.
Bree embraced her. “Eve, what is it?”
“I don’t know,” Eve sobbed. Somehow she knew this man had broken her heart, and she wept from the pain of it even though she didn’t understand. How could something she didn’t remember hurt so much?
12
IT WAS REALLY TOO LATE TO COME CALLING, BUT NICK DIDN’T want to wait until morning. Though it was after ten, it looked like every light in the lighthouse shone out the windows. He parked his SUV in front and went up the steps to the front door. He could smell popcorn through the open window.
A pretty red-haired woman answered his knock. “Did you forget your key?” Her smile faded when she saw Nick. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were my husband.” She glanced at her watch.
“I know it’s late. My name is Andreakos, and—” Before he could tell her he was with the state police, she put her hand to her mouth and took a step back. “Ma’am, are you okay?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” But the color washed out of her cheeks, and she glanced behind her. “Wait here.” She shut the door in his face.
Rock Harbor Series - 04 - Abomination Page 11
