by Jaden Skye
“Yes, it is,” Hunter agreed. “Give me a minute to get Clay.”
“Fine,” said Tracy, noticing that Hunter never let himself to be alone with her. He always brought Clay along. Probably better that way, she thought.
*
As they drove to Candace’s home Tracy wondered if Candace’s fiancé would be there. She certainly hoped so. The car edged through Braddock Park and Tracy scrutinized the area. It was typical of many residential squares all over the South End. Three- or four-story red brick town houses lined the squares. Each house had a long, narrow garden and a steep front stoop, which often rose a full story to the second floor. Wrought iron balustrades and railings surrounded the gardens and sometimes crept up over windows and balconies as well. Were these railings protection or just ornamentation? What kind of access to Candace’s home could the killer have had? Did he take her from home or somewhere else? Who was the last one to see her alive?
Most streets were cordoned off by police and hard to drive through. Whenever they were stopped by police Hunter flipped open his FBI identification and their car immediately passed through. As they wound through the hip, eclectic enclave, Tracy looked at art galleries lining the streets, the outdoor cafes and chic boutiques. There was also a wide variety of ethnic restaurants. All three victims had obviously lived very different lifestyles. How in the world had Candace run into this killer? How did her life intersect with the other two women who were killed?
As soon as they got to Candace’s home, they got out of the car and climbed the steep steps leading to the entrance. Once there, Hunter lifted the large brass knocker and hit it loudly against the wooden door.
In no time at all the door swung open and a young woman in her early twenties stood there, trembling. “Come in, come in,” she said in a teary voice. “We’re all waiting for you in the parlor.”
They walked in through a domed vestibule into a parlor with a high, rounded ceiling, large French windows, expensive furnishings, and oil portraits on the walls of national heroes and family members. In the center was a portrait of Candace, a strikingly beautiful, young ash-blonde woman.
Kevin Barclay stood up the moment they walked in and dashed over. He was large, stocky, dressed informally, and totally flushed. Another young woman and an older woman were seated, huddled together on a settee, and did not get up. That was probably Candace’s mother and another sister, thought Tracy.
“Okay, there’s no time to waste.” Kevin’s eyes looked glazed, like a man in shock. He spoke under the force of tremendous pressure, his words toppling over one another. “Where is Candace? What happened to her?”
“Is my sister still alive?” the young woman who ushered them in, cried out plaintively.
Hunter turned to her swiftly. “I believe your sister is still alive,” he responded quickly. “There is still time.”
“Still time?” Kevin exploded.
“How did you know Candace was my sister?” The young woman was beside herself.
“Don’t ask stupid questions, Justine,” Kevin reprimanded her. “This is the FBI, they know!”
Justine winced and then joined her mother and sister on the settee.
“Come sit down,” Kevin said to them, trying his best to collect himself.
Tracy walked further into the room in and sat down on a small sofa near the women. She nodded to greet them, but they did not respond.
“Okay, I know you’ve got the whole city searching,” Kevin started. “People are passing out flyers with pictures of Candace and posting them on every corner. We need a sketch of the kidnapper, too!”
“We don’t have that yet, but we will soon.” Hunter threw a glance at Tracy.
“Good, and I want to be the first to see it,” Kevin growled. “For all we know the damn rotten monster’s right here under our nose.”
Most likely he is, thought Tracy. The second and third victims only lived a mile apart. Most likely he lived right in the neighborhood, was hovering around.
“Okay, so how can I help?” Kevin continued.
Clay responded calmly. “We have routine questions for you, Mr. Barclay, and naturally anything else you or your family can add will be most appreciated.”
“Shoot.” Kevin wanted to begin.
“We need to know all about your daughter and the people she interacted with. Our teams at the office are also investigating, of course. But we want to hear about her from you,” Clay continued.
Candace’s mother started crying and the other young woman on the settee put her arms around her mother’s shoulders.
“Candace was headstrong,” Kevin started fitfully.
“Oh, come on now, Dad, I wouldn’t put it that way.” Justine stood up, agitated.
Kevin turned to her nervously. “We’re in trouble now and I’m not mincing words. We’ve got to help them find your sister as fast as possible.”
Justine looked at Tracy beseechingly and rolled her eyes. She obviously had another story to tell, but for now they had to listen to Kevin.
“I’d love to hear what you think a little later,” Tracy said to her. “Right now we have to hear from your dad.”
Kevin was pleased by Tracy’s remark. “Both Justine and her other sister, Margaret, adored Candace,” he said, looking over at the other young woman on the settee as well. “But adore her or not, Candace was born headstrong and lived her entire life like that. She did what she wanted, chose the people she liked, and just got engaged to Wayne Sholding.”
“We heard that,” Hunter noted, wanting to be part of the discussion.
“There was an announcement in the papers a couple of weeks ago,” Kevin continued. “Candace and Wayne even set a date for the wedding and booked the church nearby. In my opinion, that was premature. I asked them what’s the rush? What’s the hurry?”
“Where is Wayne now?” Tracy couldn’t help asking.
“Good question.” Kevin’s eyes flashed. “Where was he always? Half the time Candace had no idea and I didn’t either.”
Tracy was startled. “They had a bad relationship? You were opposed to it?”
Justine could not restrain herself then. She rushed over to Tracy. “Wayne loved Candace very much,” she said. “He was gone because he traveled for business.”
“What’s his business?” Hunter broke in.
“Wayne’s a successful art dealer,” said Justine. “He travels around the world buying and selling paintings.” Obviously, Justine liked and admired him a lot.
“He buys paintings of naked women! That’s the kind of paintings!” The words burst from Kevin as he flushed.
“Not naked women, they were art, Kevin, art!” Candace’s mother chimed in, loudly.
“Art or no art, they were naked women, weren’t they?” Kevin couldn’t be consoled.
“He also bought and sold paintings of flowers, children, animals.” Candace’s mother stood up. “Kevin doesn’t understand art. He’s a church man.”
“I certainly am and proud of it,” Kevin shot back.
“Well, so is Candace,” his wife insisted. “She and Wayne are getting married at your church, aren’t they? She’s doing everything she can to make you happy.”
“What church were they getting married at?” asked Tracy.
“What difference does it make?” asked Kevin.
“All Souls Church,” Candace’s mother said loudly.
“Just curious,” said Tracy. “Every little detail counts.”
“All souls?” Clay interrupted, rubbing his hand along his thigh.
“What difference does it make? What difference?” Kevin repeated. “Where is my daughter? Bring her home!”
Hunter picked up the conversation quickly. “What about Candace, what work did she do?”
“She opened one of the boutiques in the neighborhood,” Justine replied. “Her boutique sold handmade jewelry and pottery, beautiful pottery.”
“The two of them sound like a good match,” Tracy commented.
“Wha
t was so good about it?” asked Kevin, rankled. “Candace graduated from law school, and she never practiced law for one day. She was supposed to work with me in my foundation, but then she met Wayne.”
“It was fireworks and romance from the first minute.” Justine gave a shaky smile..
“Wayne convinced her to open the boutique instead,” Kevin interrupted. “It was a stupid choice if I ever saw one.”
“Her boutique did well,” Justine insisted. “She loved it. She and Wayne were planning to open an art gallery together with room for everything.”
“Don’t say were planning.” Candace’s mother began wobbling on her feet. “She’s still here, she’s still alive. Why would someone want to kill her?”
“Has Wayne contacted the family since the news broke out?” Tracy focused in. “He made a quick call,” Kevin interrupted. “But you’d think he’d come over, wouldn’t you? The guy lives about ten blocks away.”
“Wayne is suffering, Kevin,” his wife insisted, “just as we are.”
“Who was the last to see Candace alive?” Tracy asked promptly. “When did you realize she was gone?”
Candace’s family all stared at each other, somewhat obliviously.
“Did she sleep at home the night before she went missing?” Tracy continued.
Candace’s other sister, Margaret, slimmer, with dark hair and silently distraught, finally spoke up. “Candace did not sleep at home last night. She was supposed to and she didn’t.”
“Was she with Wayne?” Tracy asked startled.
“No,” Candace’s mother spoke definitively. “I distinctly remember her telling me that Wayne would be out of town and wouldn’t get back until the next morning.”
Hunter and Clay threw each other a long glance.
“Where was Candace sleeping the last night?” Hunter asked immediately. “How did you find out she’d gone missing?”
“She was supposed to come home for dinner after she’d closed the shop,” Margaret spoke in a brittle tone. “But she didn’t. I called her cell phone and no one answered. That’s highly unusual for my sister. She always answers her cell phone instantly. I waited a little while and called again. Still no answer. I got nervous and called Wayne’s place, just to be sure she wasn’t there. I even went over and knocked on his door. Nobody was there.”
“What else did you do?” Tracy was interested in Margaret.
“I called Candace’s friends, her wedding party. I thought maybe we were getting together and planning something and I forgot about it. We weren’t. No one knew where she was.”
“So, someone at her boutique had to be the last one who saw her then?” Hunter wanted the facts.
“I guess so,” said Justine.
“Depends when she actually went missing,” Tracy chimed in. “She could have done something else that evening?”
“She would have called us and told us,” Margaret insisted.
“Candace went to work yesterday? You saw her go?” Hunter kept at it.
“As far as I know she went to work,” Justine said fitfully. “You’ve got to check at the boutique to be positive.”
“Where else would she go, if not to work?” Clay stepped in softly.
“I have no idea, usually she spent the day at the boutique,” Justine replied.
“Unless she was with Wayne.” Kevin joined the conversation. “There were days I stopped by the shop to speak to her and she wasn’t there.”
“Where was she?” Clay repeated.
“Darned if I know,” Kevin mumbled. “I asked the people who worked there and no one had any idea.”
“We have to find out if Candace was at the shop yesterday,” Hunter announced, “and if she wasn’t, where was she? Who was the last one to see her alive?”
“For all we know it could have been me.” Her mother’s voice grew dim, sounding like a faraway echo. “I saw her yesterday morning before she left for work. She looked beautiful. I said, dear, you are positively glowing today. She smiled happily. I said why are you so happy, tell me. She said, look outside, Mom, what a beautiful day. Finally, it’s spring.”
Chapter 14
Finally it was spring and the flowers were blooming in the little gardens of the homes Tad walked by every day. Today he stopped and looked at them with admiration. This would have been a beautiful day, except that a third victim had gone missing! It was hard to believe, but the news blared from everywhere. Tad bought as many newspapers as he could on his way back to his house for his lunch. Tad always went home for lunch. He liked checking and making sure everything was still in order. Sometimes when he ate his sandwich, he heard noises somewhere inside the house. In the beginning it used to scare him, but then he realized that the noises were coming from the small animals who slipped in the side door and got trapped in his basement. Tad always promised himself that after work he would go down to the basement and open the side door so the animals could go free. Then he’d sweep the entire basement out.
When he got to his place today, it was quiet. Tad lay down on his cot and began reading the newspapers with bated breath. Three women in a row! This killer was really on the move. How come the police weren’t staying up all night, searching every corner of town? If it were him, he wouldn’t give the killer an inch to move in. He’d close in with everything he had. And what about this Tracy lady the police were so proud of? Who was she anyway?
Tad bent over, picked up more newspapers that he’d thrown on the floor, and rustled through them. He wanted to find out what good this Tracy was doing. Could he trust her to keep Boston safe?
Tad finally found a long column describing Tracy Wrenn. It even had her picture at the top of it. Not bad looking, not bad at all, he thought as he began to sweat. But then he changed his mind. Nah, she didn’t have what it took to nab the killer. She looked too buttoned up and self-important. She was also too young. Tracy Wrenn definitely needed to learn a few lessons before she could gain Tad’s trust.
Someone knocked on Tad’s door as he was reading and he quickly stuffed the papers under his cot. He didn’t want anyone to know he was reading this garbage, actually devouring every word of it.
“Who is it?” Tad called out in a husky voice.
“Delivery for you, Mr. Warehouse,” someone replied outside the door.
“Delivery? Leave the package outside the door and I’ll get it later,” Tad called back.
“I need you to sign for it, Mr. Warehouse,” the voice replied.
Stupid parcel post, always the same thing, Tad thought. He always asked them to come later in the day and they never listened. They just came back at lunch time and bothered him. He wanted to tell them to leave his damn packages at work, but didn’t have the guts to do that. Tad couldn’t receive any personal items where he worked and he didn’t want to ruffle any feathers. His job was important to him and he’d do whatever he could to keep it. It would be stupid to make waves about something like this.
Tad pulled himself up off the cot, flattened down his rumpled hair, opened the door just a sliver, and pulled in the package. Then he grabbed the delivery guy’s pencil and scrawled his signature.
“There, you happy? Come later next time.”
“Sorry,” the delivery guy said as he and Tad met each other’s eyes. “I’m lucky to even get here. All the streets are blocked off.”
Tad smiled slightly. “Yeah, tell me about it,” he mumbled. Tad liked this delivery guy. He was a new one, someone Tad hadn’t seen before. He was also conscientious, Tad could tell that in a second.
“There’s a dangerous killer on the loose.” The delivery guy looked nervous. “Don’t be afraid, friend.” Tad looked at him kindly. “Whoever he is, he’s just an amateur.”
“Why do you say that?” The guy was startled.
“Who else would grab three women who lived close to each other in such a short time?” Tad felt the need to speak to someone about it. “The killer could have taken his time, picked women spread all over the East, made the po
lice run up and down the coast like little rats.”
The delivery guy’s eyes got big as he listened.
Tad enjoyed talking to him. “Believe me, the killer doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s probably a crazed loser on drugs.”
“That’s a good point, very good.” The delivery guy looked fascinated. “Why don’t you call that in to law enforcement? They’re asking everyone to call in tips.”
Tad’s smile widened. He liked the idea very much. “Maybe I will,” he mumbled, “or maybe I’ll write a letter to the editor of the paper and let everyone read it for themselves.”
“Do it!” The delivery boy was enthusiastic. “They’re giving out flyers with the face of the third victim on it. I have a few extra. You want some?”
Tad held up his hand. “Not now, I’ll take a look at her later, tonight maybe. I have a long day ahead of me, need to get back to work.”
“Have it your way,” the guy answered, “but do it. Write that letter. They need your help.”
“Thanks, bud, I will,” Tad answered as the delivery guy turned to leave. “What’s your name, fella?” Tad asked before he was gone.
“Austin,” the guy answered.
“Austin? That’s a nice name.” Tad rolled it around in his mouth.
“Yeah, well, have a good day.” Austin answered as he nodded to Tad and then walked back out onto the street.
Stupid idiot, thought Tad, when he was finally gone. Does he really think I’d just call in a tip over the phone and not get credit for it?
Chapter 15
It was hard leaving Candace’s family, upset as they were, but Hunter promised another team would soon be arriving to scour the place and talk. They had more to do now back at the offices, including creating a probable sketch of the killer to pass around.
Despite the heavy cloud that hung over them as they left, Tracy noticed the flowers in front of Candace’s townhouse which were starting to bloom. . She slipped back into the car tense and restless, though.. The clock was ticking for all of them.
