by Karen Rose
She nodded brusquely. “I have seen worse, Daniel. Not often, but I have. I’ll go back to the car and wait for you. See you later, Ed.”
Ed was thoughtful as they watched Alex walk back to Daniel’s car. “I’d ask if she had a sister, but that would be in really bad taste.”
Daniel managed to choke back what would have been a startled laugh. It was one of those moments civilians didn’t understand. When the burden got so heavy, dark humor was the only nonaddictive, non-destructive release. “Ed.”
“I know.” Ed glanced at Marianne. “You deal with the bitch, I’ll deal with the ditch.”
This time Daniel couldn’t hold back the chuckle, but dropped his head so nobody could see him smile. When he looked up he was serious.
“I’ll go deal with Mrs. Woolf.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ed was muttering when Daniel walked away.
Marianne was crying. “Marianne, what the hell are you doing here?”
Marianne’s eyes flashed fury despite the tears. “That’s Delia Anderson.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve sat next to her at Angie’s Beauty Shop every Thursday for the last five years,” Marianne snapped. “Nobody has a bouffant like Delia.”
“We’ll have to confirm her identity,” Daniel said. “Why are you here, Marianne?”
“I got a text tip on my cell.”
“You’ve been in communication with a killer.” Daniel said the words slowly, hoping by some miracle they’d sink in. “The killer of your husband’s sister.”
She sneered. “I don’t know that. He never said, ‘I killed them, go see.’ ”
“Just ‘Go see where there happens to be a freshly killed body.’ ” Daniel rolled his eyes. “I don’t see the difference, Marianne.”
Her chin lifted. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.”
“Why are you and Jim doing this? Please help me understand.”
Marianne sighed. “Jim’s dad ran that paper for years. It was his life-a sweet little small-town paper where the biggest news was the high school football scores. Jim always dreamed it could be more, but his father wouldn’t let him try. When his father died, Jim took over, retooled everything. I know you think it’s stupid…” Again her chin lifted. “But it’s his dream. He got offers from some big-city papers for this story, and it’s a story that needs to be told. He’s in jail, so I’m telling it until he’s out.”
Daniel wanted to shake her. “But you’re letting a killer use you.”
She lifted her brows. “Aren’t you? You can’t say that this case and this killer haven’t gotten even more attention because you’ve been investigating.” Her voice became grand. Mocking. “The great Daniel Vartanian, son of a judge, brother of a serial killer. But Daniel has risen above it all, sworn protector of truth, justice, and the American way.” She cocked her jaw. “It’s enough to bring a tear to your eye.”
Daniel stared at her, stunned. “What about Lisa? Don’t you think she deserves more than this?”
Marianne actually smiled. “Lisa would be the first one cheering me on, Daniel.”
He stared, completely taken aback. “I don’t understand you.”
“No, I suppose you don’t. I guess that’s why it’s a good thing we still have the Bill of Rights.” She popped the memory card from her camera and glanced up at the barrel-chested agent who’d been her tail. “I’ll go with Tiny here and make you guys a copy of the pictures. It’s what Jim told me to do if I got caught.”
“Can you at least refrain from printing anything until we’ve notified the Andersons?”
Marianne nodded, her disdain gone for the moment. “Yes. On that we can agree.”
Atlanta, Friday, February 2, 8:50 a.m.
“So how does this woman connect?” Chase demanded. Ed had stayed at the crime scene, Talia was interviewing rape victims, and Hatton and Koenig were still at Peachtree and Pine searching for Crighton. Luke sat next to Daniel at the team room table, absorbed in whatever was on the screen of his laptop.
“She used to work at the Davis Bank in Dutton,” Luke said. “It’s on her real estate website. She lists Davis Bank as a lender for qualified home buyers.”
“That doesn’t seem motive enough to kill her,” Chase said doubtfully. “What have you found out about Jared O’Brien’s family?”
“Only what I was able to glean from the Internet,” Luke said. “But you’re gonna like it. The O’Briens used to own the Dutton paper mill. Larry O’Brien had two sons. Jared was the oldest and went to Bryson Academy. He was the same age as Simon. From the yearbooks it appears Jared was quite the ladies’ man. He was homecoming king and prom king during his graduation year.” Luke passed them a copy of Jared’s yearbook picture. “He was a handsome guy. Jared’s younger brother was Mack. Mack was nine years younger.” He paused and lifted his brows.
Daniel sucked in a breath. “Then he went to high school with Janet and the others.”
“At the beginning, yes,” Luke said, “but if you check the yearbooks, Mack transferred to the public school some time between his junior and senior years. He was too young to be on any of the lists of males Simon’s age and he didn’t go to Bryson Academy during the years we checked on the murdered women. Larry O’Brien, the father, died of a heart attack about a year after Simon died the first time. Jared, as the oldest son, took over the mill. There aren’t a lot of public records, but there seem to have been a lot of people out of work, so it doesn’t seem like Jared was a stellar businessman.”
“Kate said he was a drunk,” Daniel said. “I know he had a record. I had Leigh run him-Jared O’Brien was arrested for DUI twice in Georgia.”
“Jared disappeared the year Mack was a junior in high school,” Luke said. “The mill goes belly-up because Jared spent all the money, and the mill gets bought out by guess who?”
Chase sighed. “Who?”
“Rob Davis.”
Daniel’s mouth opened. “No way.”
“Way,” Luke said. “The father’s widow, Lila O’Brien, declares bankruptcy a few months later.”
“And Mack transfers to the public school.” Daniel lifted his brows. “The timing works. The O’Briens must not have gotten much from the sale if Mack had to transfer.”
“The mill’s privately owned, so the terms aren’t in the public record,” Luke said, “but I’d say that assumption is fair.”
“So we may have a motive for revenge against the Davises,” Chase said, “but the rest of this? How would Mack even know about the ‘club’? He would have been nine years old at the time. And what about Jared? He disappeared, but nobody’s found a body. For all we know, Jared could have come back and started all this.”
“That’s possible, except for this next piece.” Luke paused dramatically. “Mack got arrested for assault and grand theft auto in his senior year of high school. He was already eighteen, so he got tried as an adult and sent to prison. He served four of a twelve-year sentence, then was paroled. One month ago.”
“Whoa.” Daniel wanted to grin, but held it back. There were still too many gaps they had to fill. “It all fits, but we need to know why he killed Janet and the others, why he mimicked Alicia’s death, and like Chase said, how he even knew about all this.”
“Then let’s find him and bring him in for a few questions,” Chase said dangerously. “You got a photo, Luke?”
Luke slid one across the table. “That’s his mug.”
Daniel studied Mack O’Brien’s face. His hair was dark and greasy, his body thin and scrawny, and he had terrible pockmarks on his face from acute acne. “Doesn’t look much like Jared,” he commented. “Let’s get out an APB.”
“I’ll contact the parole board for a more recent photo,” Luke said. “For now, this is better than nothing.”
“What about the rest of Jared O’Brien’s family?” Chase asked.
“His mother died while Mack was in prison,” Luke said. “Jared left a wife and two little boys behind. They live out pa
st Arcadia.”
“You got all this from the Internet?” Daniel asked.
“Dutton’s newspaper is online now, up to ten years ago.” Luke shrugged. “It’s one of the things Jim Woolf has done to modernize. Plus the birth and death records are filed at the county seat and Mack’s arrest record was on our books. He was sentenced here in Atlanta, by the way. Not in Dutton.”
“Who was the arresting officer?” Daniel asked.
“Guy by the name of Smits, out of Zone 2.”
“Thanks, I’ll talk to him.” Daniel looked at Chase. “We need to notify the Andersons ASAP, but I’d also like to talk to Jared’s widow.”
Chase nodded. “I’ll inform the Andersons. We already have both Davis and Mansfield under surveillance. If they try to bolt, we’ll grab ’em.”
“Chase.” Leigh ran into the room, Alex at her heels; both were pale. “Koenig just called. They found Crighton, but he pulled a gun and got Hatton in the shoulder.”
“How bad?” Chase demanded.
“Bad,” Leigh said. “They rushed him to Emory. He’s in critical condition. Koenig’s at the hospital now. Koenig was hit, too, but not as bad.”
Chase drew a breath. “Their wives?”
“Koenig’s called them. They’re both on their way.”
Chase nodded. “All right. I’ll contact the Andersons, then head over. Luke, I want everything we can get on Mack O’Brien, down to what breakfast cereal he ate as a kid. Get financials on the others-Mansfield, and both Garth and his uncle.”
“I’ll call you when I have something.” Luke left, laptop under his arm.
Chase turned to Daniel. “Crighton can wait. They’ll put him in the tank until we’re ready to deal with him.”
“You’re right. I’ll go see Jared’s wife.”
“Wait,” Leigh said. “Your FedExes just came. From Cincinnati and Philly.”
“The keys,” Daniel said. He ripped open the envelopes and slid the keys onto the table. It was easy to see which of the five keys Ciccotelli had sent from Philadelphia was the right one-it was almost identical to the one Alex’s ex had sent. Daniel held up both keys, one in each hand. “They’re not for the same lock, but the keys themselves look like they’re from the same manufacturer.”
“Safe-deposit box?” Chase asked, and Daniel nodded.
“I’m betting so.”
“Garth’s uncle’s bank?” Chase asked, and Daniel nodded again.
“I can’t go storming into Davis’s bank demanding access to boxes without a warrant, and even when I get one, it’s tipping our hand.”
“Call Chloe, get the warrants started,” Chase said. “Once we get more information, we’ll at least have a jump on the paperwork.”
“That’s a plan. Alex, you have to stay here. I’m sorry. I can’t be worried about your safety and do all of this.”
Her jaw tightened. “Okay. I understand.”
He pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. “Do not leave this building. Do you promise?”
“I’m not stupid, Daniel.”
He scowled. “No evasions, Alex. Promise me.”
She sighed. “I promise.”
Arcadia, Georgia, Friday, February 2, 10:30 a.m.
Jared O’Brien’s wife lived in a house the size of a crackerbox. She answered the door wearing a waitress uniform and a weary expression. “Annette O’Brien?”
She nodded. “Yes, that’s me.”
She didn’t seem surprised to see him, only tired. “I’m Special Agent-”
“You’re Simon Vartanian’s brother,” she interrupted. “Come in.”
She crossed her tiny living room in a few steps, picking up a shirt, a pair of small shoes, a toy truck as she walked. “You have children,” he said.
“Two. Joey and Seth. Joey is seven. Seth turned five just before Christmas.”
That meant she would have been pregnant with her younger son when her husband disappeared. “You don’t seem surprised to see me, Mrs. O’Brien.”
“I’m not. In fact, I’ve been waiting for you to come for more than five years.” Her eyes shadowed with apprehension. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. But I have to get protection for my kids. They’re the only reason I haven’t said anything until now.”
“Protection from whom, Mrs. O’Brien?”
She met his gaze unflinchingly. “You know, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“Fair enough. So when did you find out what Jared and the others had done?”
“After he disappeared. I thought he’d run off with another woman. I was pregnant with Seth and getting too fat for… well, I thought he’d be back.”
Daniel felt anger at Jared and pity for Annette. If Alex were pregnant, she’d still be the most beautiful woman in the world to him. “But he didn’t come back.”
“No, and after a few weeks the bank account was empty and we were hungry.”
“What about Jared’s mother?”
She shook her head wearily. “She was out of the country with Mack. Rome, I think.”
“You had no money for food and his mother was in Rome? I don’t understand.”
“Jared never wanted his mother to know how badly he’d messed up his daddy’s mill. His mother was used to a certain standard of living and he made sure she had it. We did, too, on the surface. We lived in a big house, drove fancy cars. But we had no credit with the bank and no cash. Jared kept a tight hold on the finances. He gambled.”
“And drank.”
“Yes. When he didn’t come back, I started searching all the places he hid money.” She drew a deep breath. “And that’s when I found his journals. Jared had kept one religiously since he was a boy.”
Daniel had to fight to keep from punching at the air in glee. “Where are they?”
“I’ll get them for you.” She went to the fireplace and jostled an interior brick loose.
“Risky place to hide a journal,” Daniel commented.
“Jared hid them in the garage with the spare parts for his ’Vette. My sons and I moved here after we lost everything. Seth has bad allergies, so we never use the fireplace. It’s safe enough.” She’d been working at the brick as she spoke and finally pulled it free. Then she sat, pale, openmouthed and staring. “That’s… not possible.”
Daniel felt all his glee fizzle away. He walked to the fireplace and looked in the empty hole and suddenly pieces of the puzzle began to slide into place.
“Let’s sit down.” When they had, he leaned forward, keeping his expression calm because Annette appeared on the verge of hysteria. “Has Mack been here to visit?”
The look she gave him was one of genuine shock. “No. He’s in prison.”
“Not anymore,” he said, and she paled further. “He was paroled a month ago.”
“I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know.”
“Have you noticed anything else missing?”
“Yes. My tip money that I keep in a jar in my bedroom disappeared about a month ago. I blamed Joey for taking it.” She covered her mouth with a trembling hand. “Then two weeks ago it happened again-my tips and the cookies I’d baked for the kids’ lunches. I spanked Joey and called him a liar.” Tears filled her eyes. “Like his daddy.”
“We can deal with that later,” Daniel said gently. “For now, can you tell me what you remember from the journals?”
Her eyes had gone glassy with panic. “Mack was here. My boys are at school. They’re not safe if Mack’s around.”
Daniel knew he couldn’t expect her to be helpful when she was panicked over her kids. He called Sheriff Corchran in Arcadia and asked him to pick the boys up from school, then turned to Annette, who was visibly struggling for control. “Corchran said he’d let them run his lights and siren. They’ll have a ball. Don’t worry.”
“Thank you.” She closed her eyes, still very pale. “Mack is out of prison, the journals are gone, and four women are murdered just like Alicia Tremaine.”
Five women, Daniel thought. Annette O’Brien mu
st have missed the morning news.
She looked at him, her eyes stark and desolate. “Mack killed those women.”
“You knew him. Could he have done it? Would he?”
“He would and he could,” she whispered. “My God. I should have destroyed them when I had the chance.”
“The journals?” Daniel asked, and she nodded. “Please, Mrs. O’Brien, can you tell me what you remember from the journals?”
“They had a club. Your brother, Simon, was the president. Jared never mentioned any real names. They used nicknames.” She sighed wearily. “They were stupid boys.”
“Who raped a number of women,” Daniel said harshly.
She frowned as his meaning became clear. “In no way am I excusing what they did, Agent Vartanian,” she said quietly. “Make no mistake about that. This was not a boys-will-be-boys prank. What they did was obscene and… evil.”
“I’m sorry, I misunderstood. Please go on.”
“They were boys when it started, fifteen or sixteen. They made up this game, had rules, a secret code, keys… It was so stupid.” She swallowed. “And so horrible.”
“So if Jared didn’t mention names, how did you know Simon was the president?”
“They called him Captain Ahab. Simon was the only one in Dutton I knew with a fake leg, so I put two and two together. Jared put in the journal that nobody called him Ahab to his face, just Captain. They were all afraid of him.”
“With good reason,” Daniel murmured. “What other nicknames did Jared mention?”
“Bluto and Igor. Jared wrote how they always hung around together, and once he slipped and wrote something about Bluto’s father being Mayor McCheese. Garth Davis’s father was the mayor at the time. I guessed Igor was Rhett Porter.”
“Garth’s uncle bought the mill after Jared died,” Daniel noted, and her eyes flared.
“Yes, for pennies on the dollar. We were left with nothing. But you didn’t come here for that. The others… Well, there was Sweetpea. I was never sure if that was Randy Mansfield or one of the Woolf brothers. Jared thought it was funny that they called him Sweetpea because the boy didn’t like it. It was some aspersion against his manliness. It was how they convinced him to join.” Her lips twisted. “ ‘Have sex with these girls. Prove you’re a man.’ It made me sick.”
