I was pretty sure we were looking at fraud, but what else was going on?
Someone was trying to pass off an elderly woman for Theodore Vanderbilt. But who? Theodore himself? Kathy? Both of them?
Had they burned an elderly woman alive? Had they murdered her and used her body in their fraud?
We ended the call with Dr. Greene, and Vincent and I looked at each other.
“Who was that poor old woman?” I asked, thinking back to the pictures of the desecrated body and hating every scenario I kept coming up with to explain the presence of a woman’s body in Theodore Vanderbilt’s car.
Vincent’s eyebrows lowered as he considered my question and then added one of his own. “And where is Theo Vanderbilt now?”
Vincent and I stared at each other in silent thought while we digested Dr. Greene’s news.
Vincent blinked first. “Theodore Vanderbilt is not dead,” he said.
I ran a hand down the back of my neck, trying to relieve the tension that suddenly knotted there. “It seems not.”
This information told us a great deal, but it also left us with more questions.
If Theo were alive, then that meant he was hiding somewhere.
But where? We’d been watching the Vanderbilts’ financial records and credit card activity, but so far, no suspicious charges had shown up. Their statement included no record of payment to hotels, campgrounds, airports, bus lines, or gas stations, so it was likely that he was hiding out on one of his Cranford County properties.
We also now knew that the Vanderbilts had attempted to defraud Americus Mutual by faking Theo’s death. That kind of fraud required two people—one to “die” and the other to collect the money—so Kathy had to be involved.
And the female body in the LTD? Well, that left me with nothing but the questions I’d been asking for the past ten minutes.
Who was she?
How had she come to be in the LTD?
Had the Vanderbilts murdered her in order to fake Theo’s death?
A million dollars was a lot of money, but was it enough to induce someone to murder?
The Vanderbilts would certainly be charged with insurance fraud and second-degree arson, but we were now dealing with a potential homicide as well.
And a ten-year jail stretch was nothing compared to the sentence these two could receive if they had committed murder.
Georgia was a death penalty state.
And then Vincent and I were moving with sudden energy, both focused on the same mission: to find Theodore Vanderbilt and bring him and Kathy in as quickly as possible.
“I’ll get on the warrants,” Vincent said as he turned and bolted for the door. “And download plats of the Vanderbilts’ properties.”
My hand was already on the receiver of my office phone. “I’ll call my contacts at the MPD. If we’re going to have any chance of finding Theo without tipping off him or Kathy, we’ve got to hit all three of his properties simultaneously. And that means we need Mercer SWAT.”
I called Captain Morey Sobanski of the first precinct to arrange for his SWAT team to carry out the search of the Cranford County properties ASAP. Those SWAT guys loved their jobs and didn’t mind hauling everything across county lines, even in the pre-dawn hours, because it meant a little excitement. I made arrangements to email our entry plans and then follow up with a conference call with the team.
Next, I called Cranford County Sheriff Bart “Tiny” Harper to alert him to our plans and to explain why we’d issued an all-points bulletin for Theodore Vanderbilt.
After going through the sheriff’s department switchboard, I was transferred to Sheriff Harper’s home line, and I caught him in the middle of dinner. He didn’t sound very excited to speak with me. After I identified myself, the sheriff said, “I’ve got to admit I was anxious to talk to the DOI joker who put an APB out on a dead guy, but it could have waited until after I’ve finished my chicken.”
Ignoring the fact that I’d just been called a joker, I explained, “We have reason to believe that Theodore Vanderbilt is still alive and hiding somewhere nearby until his wife can collect the insurance money.”
“How can that be?” he demanded. “I saw his body myself right after the fire was extinguished. He sure looked dead to me.”
Thinking back to the pictures of the body, I was pretty sure that was the understatement of the year.
“According to the medical examiner, the body in the Ford LTD was not Theodore Vanderbilt,” I said, “but an unidentified elderly woman.”
The line went silent for a moment, and then Sheriff Harper asked, “You’re saying someone burned an elderly woman to death? In my county?” He sounded ashamed of the whole human race.
“We don’t know the cause of death yet,” I said. “We’re waiting on the full autopsy, but at this point, we’re considering murder as a possibility.”
A strong possibility.
“Who was the victim?” he demanded.
“She hasn’t yet been identified, so we’re running searches of GBI and NCIC databases, but you are closer to the situation. You might have a line on something we don’t. Have you received any reports of missing elderly women?”
I was hoping we’d get lucky and someone had called in a missing persons report in the past week that had not been entered into the state system yet. “Any concerned relatives calling?”
Sheriff Harper thought for a moment. “Sorry, but I don’t believe we’ve had a missing persons report in recent history. Definitely nothing in the past week.”
“What about Theodore Vanderbilt?” I asked. “We know he owns three properties in Cranford County—the U-Strip-Em, the We-Shred-Em, and his home—but can you think of anywhere else he may be hiding?”
“Well, now,” Sheriff Harper said, “lots of people here know Theo, but he doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends, if you know what I mean.”
“So you can’t think of anyone he’d hide out with?”
“Hell, no,” the sheriff said. “I can think of at least ten people who would turn him in on sight, though.”
“So you’re saying he’s most likely to be hiding on private property where no one will see him,” I translated.
“That’s right.” Harper reconsidered. “Or maybe hiding in the woods somewhere. Like a lot of Cranford’s citizens, he’s an outdoorsman.”
The jackass was probably sitting in front of his TV right now. I quickly explained our plans to use Mercer SWAT to search the properties early the next morning.
“I’ll send a car to each property with you,” he said. “My guys need to be there. Since they’re familiar with the area, they might see something you miss.”
“Thank you, Sheriff. Any extra manpower is a benefit. We’ll keep you informed of our plans as they develop.”
Pleased to have the local LEOs on board, I made a quick call to Helena and asked her to stop by my place to check on Maxwell because, unless I missed my guess, it was going to be a long night at the DOI.
By 11 PM, Vincent and I had taken over the conference room, and the table was covered in property plats, partially finished water bottles and Coke cans, and an empty pizza box. We’d planned the entry of the Vanderbilts’ properties and finished the conference call with Mercer SWAT. We were due to start the raid at 5 AM.
Now that the planning was over, I was suddenly exhausted, but it was pointless to drive all the way home. We had to meet with the MPD team at the ungodly hour of 4 AM, and that left me precious little time to sleep, especially if I wasted part of it driving.
“I’m going to catch a few hours sleep on the couch downstairs in the lobby,” I said as I pulled my hair from the loose ponytail I’d forced it into a few hours earlier. I massaged my scalp and looked up to find Vincent watching me, his face blank.
“Yeah, good decision. I’ll rack in my office,” he said as he looked away from me and began stacking papers.
I studied him for a moment, trying to imagine where he thought he was going to find room to sleep
in his tiny office, and then trekked to my own, where I would ostensibly be getting ready for bed. The fact was that I didn’t have much by way of overnight supplies, but I did have a toothbrush and paste in my desk drawer.
At least my breath would be minty tomorrow.
On my way to the bathroom, I peeked in Vincent’s office to make sure I hadn’t missed the presence of a couch. Nope. Nothing but a desk and some chairs. No sofa. Nothing he could possibly stretch out on. That meant he’d be on the floor.
Poor guy.
Of course, the decorative sofa in the lobby where I’d be sleeping was probably just as hard, but at least I’d be off the ground.
I finished my bedtime preparations and returned the toothbrush to my office. On my desk was a picture of the fire scene. I picked it up and brushed my fingertips across the charred body in the front seat. Once again, I wondered, who was she? How did she get in that LTD?
On a whim, I sat down and initiated a quick search of the NCIC missing persons database and typed in the parameters I knew, which admittedly wasn’t much.
The list turned out to be even longer than I expected, but I scanned it anyway. None of the names sent up red flags. Or at least none of them were Vanderbilts or Hashaways, and none lived near enough to the couple to make me suspicious. Given that we had only dental records for comparison at this point, it was useless to expand the search further.
And it was getting really late.
I had just turned off my laptop when I heard Vincent’s office door shut, probably for the night, so I followed suit and made my way to the lobby sofa.
When I finally lay down, I expected my mind to linger on the next day’s search plans or to focus on the poor old woman who might have been murdered in the Vanderbilts’ fraud scheme, but for some reason, I was thinking of Vincent sleeping just upstairs on his office floor.
I shifted on the sofa and rearranged the back couch cushion I was using for a pillow.
I might as well admit how glad I was that Vincent was back. Arranging that SWAT search would have taken all night if I’d been on my own. And with Vincent, there was no nonsense. No debate. We both saw what needed to be done, and we made it happen.
It was nice.
Better than nice, if I were honest.
We were partners now, and that meant something to me. I closed my eyes and turned onto my back as certain facts invaded my mind.
Life hadn’t offered me many opportunities to form truly close friendships, and I regretted that.
And now that life was giving me this opportunity with Vincent—whatever it might be—I wasn’t sure how to handle it.
Helena, I felt sure, would tell me to run upstairs and jump him.
Ditto Tricia.
And Tripp would tell me to be careful and play it cool.
And my mother? Well, I’d stopped considering her opinion long ago. As for my father, he would no doubt approve of my new partner.
But what did I want?
I flung my arm over my eyes as I pictured Vincent upstairs wedged on the floor between his office furniture and dust bunnies, trying to sleep.
It was pretty blatant that there was an attraction between us, and it was equally clear that neither of us had really acted upon it.
Maybe that was good enough for now.
Maybe one day in the future, one of us would do something to change the relationship, but I couldn’t do that.
Not yet. Not with the end of my lifelong quest so close at hand. It wouldn’t be fair—either to Vincent or to Tricia—to start something now.
I thought of Vincent’s “hold fast” tattoo. Maybe that’s what we were both doing: just hanging on for the right moment.
But it sure would be nice if the right moment were now.
I sighed aloud. My thoughts made me sound like such a drama queen. I wasn’t sure what I wanted out of my partnership with Vincent, but I knew one thing for certain: I couldn’t let him sleep on the hard floor without a pillow at least.
Standing quickly before I could change my mind, I grabbed the other back cushion and headed for Vincent’s office.
I knocked softly.
“Yeah?” His voice was soft and more gravelly than usual. Had I awoken him?
I cracked the door and peeked in before opening it all the way. The guest chairs had been shoved behind his desk, and Vincent was lying on his back in front of it, his sport coat wadded beneath his head. Light from the street lamps slanted through the windows, illuminating portions of his face.
In the mottled light, his features seemed softer and his eyes more hooded as he looked up at me silently. Somehow the moment became an invitation. I don’t know how because all we were doing was staring at each other. But I knew he wouldn’t object if I took the opportunity to curl up on the floor beside him.
God, was I tempted.
But that wasn’t why I was there.
With his large frame spread out, there was little room for me to enter, so I stood at the door and said, “I thought you could use a pillow.”
He propped himself up on one elbow to look back at me, and I wondered what he saw. What did I look like to him? Did he also somehow know that I wouldn’t object if he happened to try to wedge himself on the couch with me?
Probably.
But all he said was “thanks.”
Neither of us made any movement to transfer ownership of the pillow. We just remained frozen for a moment, watching each other in the half light.
Then I handed the cushion to him and forced myself to return to the sofa in my portion of the DOI office.
But I left his door open between us.
Sixteen
Hours before dawn, the man was dressed in camouflage and toting his .243 Winchester rifle and field knife into the woods.
Yes, he was nothing more than a harmless hunter.
He was out hunting. That was all.
Only he wasn’t hunting deer.
He was hunting Theodore Vanderbilt. The man who had stolen his body had to be eliminated.
He grinned as he tromped through the underbrush. He had no real plan beyond entering the property and doing what needed to be done. It didn’t matter how Theodore Vanderbilt died, only that he died. Besides, the man had dreamed of these moments of death so frequently that he didn’t need to have a plan. He knew that his actions would come naturally. He’d know what to do and when.
He was certain of it.
His small flashlight cut its meager beam through the darkness as he stalked through the cold woods, and his whole body felt both numb and tingly at the same time, but he suspected the sensation wasn’t due to the temperature. He always felt like this—excited and almost otherworldly—in his fantasies, so it seemed as if he were having a fantasy now and not actually taking real action.
But soon Vanderbilt’s house was before him, and he edged around the perimeter of the woods, trying to get a good look around with his light.
The house was dark, quiet, easy to penetrate.
The outbuildings were dark too.
Except for one.
A light coming from a small aluminum shed across the way seemed to be flickering slightly, so he came out of the woods, forgetting himself and walking boldly toward the flickering light, like a moth to a flame.
He couldn’t stop now.
Yes, there was light coming from a window on the left side, and he could hear the sound of a TV playing softly within.
Someone was in there.
He felt his body flush with pleasure as he peeked in the window. The light from the TV in the corner exposed everything he needed to know: a man slept on a small cot.
Theo Vanderbilt.
The man didn’t even remember opening the shed door and entering the room, but suddenly there he was, above his prey, knife in his hand.
He didn’t recall yanking the man from underneath the pile of covers.
Or taking him by the neck and pulling him to the center of the room.
But when he made the cut—just
a small line right at the base of the neck—he knew he would remember everything about it.
The man had screamed, jerked, and then went into convulsions as his blood spurted from his body. Watching, the man with the knife felt giddy, and the room began to spin as he inhaled the smell of copper and saw the blood begin to splatter on the wall, felt it land on his hands, his clothes, his face.
For a moment, he was his father, standing over that dead goat. He knew just how his daddy had felt. He knew the exultation of the blood: both the blood on his hands and the blood in his own veins, the family heritage.
He stood still, enjoying the moment.
A scream sounded behind him, and he turned, jerked from his acted-out fantasy.
A small woman stood behind him, still screaming.
Shit! He’d been caught off guard.
Then he smiled.
To kill again so soon.
“Come here, bitch,” he said, reaching for the woman.
But the woman spun, and suddenly she vanished into the darkness. For a while, he was able to follow her by listening for her footsteps ahead of him in the woods, but soon those stopped too. He tried to find her hiding place with his little flashlight, but it was useless. He couldn’t see anything.
So he moved deeper into the woods. He would have to wait until dawn, but until then, he could enjoy his memories.
Seventeen
The alarm on my phone buzzed at 4 AM, but I woke up feeling like Julie Andrews singing on the Austrian mountaintop.
I don’t know why. Maybe it was giddiness from lack of sleep.
Soon Vincent and I were at the MPD precinct so that SWAT Captain Sobanski could brief everyone on the objectives. Vincent and I fielded a few last-minute questions, and then we all piled into black, unmarked vans and rolled out.
I sat on a bench seat in the back of the lead vehicle between two black-clad SWAT members. Captain Sobanski was at the wheel.
Other than the fact that I wore a Kevlar vest too, I stood out among the rest of the team.
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