by Jaden Skye
“That’s fine,” said Tracy. “I’m really grateful you’re here, Clay. You’re terrific.”
“You’re pretty terrific yourself, Tracy. Takes one to know one,” Clay tossed back.
Clay left for his room, and Tracy was relieved to be alone. Far more exhausted than she realized, she went to the bathroom and drew a long, hot bath. She would soak in it for as long as she could, letting the steamy waters soothe her and get rid of the day’s nasty residue.
As she lay in the bath Tracy went over the day. Oddly enough, she felt safe here, didn’t think that whoever had messed up her room would be returning any time soon. It was a scare tactic, that was for sure. Anyone could have done it, someone with a vendetta against Candace, a worker at the hotel, or a lost creature who wanted that fifteen minutes of fame.
Tracy dropped her head back further into the warm water, letting her long hair get wet. As she soaked in it, the image of the pink pearl bracelet kept drifting up in her mind. It was an odd find. Was it left in her room purposely? Often killers took souvenirs of their crimes, but there was no evidence that this bracelet had been part of any murder. Tracy couldn’t help but feel that the break-in was just a side show, distracting their attention from what was really going on.
She thought of getting up out of the bath then, but couldn’t bring herself to. It was warm and soothing in here. Her mind wandered to Wess then as she wondered what he had to tell her. Whatever it was, it didn’t feel good. And she didn’t like being put on hold in order to hear it. There was a threat implied and she felt it.
Tracy finally got out of the bath and wrapped herself in a towel just before her phone rang again. This had to be Wess, she thought. He was probably going to say he loved her and was sorry, didn’t know what had come over him. That had happened before.
To Tracy’s surprise, though, a different voice answered. It was low, grumbly, and sweet.
“Tracy, this is Tad Warehouse,” he said.
“Tad Warehouse?” For a second Tracy didn’t remember who he was. Then, of course, she did. Tad was the last person in the world she expected to hear from now.
“I heard what happened over the news,” Tad mumbled. “I couldn’t sleep, had to call and make sure you’re all right.”
“That’s kind of you, Tad,” Tracy murmured.
“It’s disgusting that someone broke in,” he spoke heavily. “How dare they?”
“I’m fine, Tad,” Tracy answered, “nothing bad happened.”
“And nothing ever will while I’m around,” he said. “We had a great meeting today, didn’t we?”
“Very good,” Tracy echoed. “By the way, how did you get my cell phone number?”
“You called me once from your phone,” Tad answered. Then his voice bristled. “Don’t you remember? Are you upset I called so late? Am I intruding on something?”
“No, you’re not intruding and I’m not upset,” said Tracy. And she wasn’t. “I’m grateful for your interest, Tad.
“Take that bracelet they left there, squash it up, and throw it out the window,” Tad then said in a strange tone. “Don’t keep something like that around you. It was a nasty ploy.”
“A ploy by who?” Tracy was interested.
“A ploy by whoever did it,” Tad answered. “Don’t worry, we’ll find out soon.”
*
First thing in the morning, even before Tracy had breakfast, Kevin Barclay called, tremendously upset.
“Is that you, Tracy? Are you okay? Did you have a safe night?” Kevin was spluttering.
“I’m good, Kevin,” Tracy responded.
“I heard the news and called Hunter immediately,” he went on.
“I’m fine, Kevin.” Tracy tried to calm him down.
“Maybe you are and maybe not,” Kevin answered. “Candace thought she was fine, too, and where is she now?”
Of course that was the question that haunted everyone. Tracy fell silent.
“Listen Tracy,” Kevin continued, “when I heard they found the bracelet from Candace’s shop in your room I called Pastor Boyd immediately. At first I was sure Jeffrey Glaze was involved and now I’m wondering about Wayne. I want you to talk to the pastor directly. He knows things he hasn’t told anyone. Candace and Wayne also talked to him. Between you and me I think he even tried to postpone their marriage. I know he sensed trouble between them.”
Tracy listened carefully to what Kevin was saying. He was overwrought and it was understandable, he had no real idea what to do next.
“Will you speak to Pastor Boyd today for me?” Kevin kept pushing.
“Not sure,” said Tracy. “I want to go over things with my colleagues first.”
“Okay, but don’t delay.” Kevin had a one-track mind. “That bracelet is telling us something.”
“What?” asked Tracy.
“If I knew I wouldn’t be sitting here now,” Kevin answered fitfully. “I’d have my daughter back again.”
*
Just as Tracy and Clay were about to leave the hotel and get to the offices, Tracy’s phone rang.
“Take it,” Clay urged. “Let’s just hope it’s not Wess again.”
Irritated, Tracy flipped her phone open quickly.
“Tracy,” a mild-mannered voice greeted her on the other end, “this is Pastor Boyd. Kevin Barclay called me late last night and also first thing this morning. He’s extremely distressed.”
“Yes, I realize,” said Tracy.
“And with good reason,” Pastor Boyd added quietly. “I have some free time this morning and “I’d be most honored if you would meet with me to talk. We can take a long walk before the rain comes.”
Tracy hadn’t been outdoors yet or noticed the weather.
“I’d be delighted to meet with you,” Tracy answered quickly. “Where would you like to go?”
“How about a walk along the Charles River?” Pastor Boyd offered.
Tracy felt a sudden chill.
Chapter 30
“Why the Charles River?” Tracy asked.
“It’s a lovely place to walk in the springtime,” the Pastor replied. “Is there something wrong with it?”
“No, of course not. Not at all,” said Tracy. “Text me the exact location to meet you and I’ll be there in half an hour.”
“Wonderful, excellent,” he exclaimed. “And bring along an umbrella. Looks like the skies
are about to open up.”
*
Pastor Boyd was waiting under a tree at the exact spot he’d said he’d be. He stood absolutely still, leaning on a long, black umbrella, in anticipation. With cropped gray hair, an angular face, and wearing a dark raincoat, he looked the picture of tranquility. As Tracy drew closer, he waved, beckoning her on.
“How good of you to come precisely on time.” He looked delighted to see her. “I’ve heard wonderful things about you, Tracy, absolutely wonderful.”
Tracy was pleased to see him as well. “Thank you,” she said.
“Kevin can’t speak highly enough of you. He’s daunted by your dedication,” the pastor continued.
Tracy felt the heavy moisture already in the air and noticed the dew still coating the trees.
“Let’s walk, shall we?” The pastor started moving slowly toward the banks of the river. “The Charles River is one of the most historic sites in Boston to walk along,” he commented as they left the safe haven of the tree.
Tracy thought about what Tad had said about the Charles River. “Do people walk along the banks late at night as well?” she asked.
It was an odd remark and the pastor reacted to it. “Certainly, I imagine they must.” He looked at Tracy quizzically. “Why do you ask?”
Tracy had no intention of telling him about Tad or the strange suggestion he’d made. She hadn’t told anyone.
“In fact, as I recall, Candace’s former boyfriend Andy used to walk along the Charles River at night,” the pastor continued. “It soothed him after a long day at the hospital.”
Tracy f
elt startled. “Tell me about him,” she asked.
“Andy took the breakup badly,” the pastor murmured. “But then who wouldn’t? Seems like loyalty’s a thing of the past these days. Most don’t think anything much of leaving their partners when someone better comes along.”
“I heard that Candace tried to help Andy through it.” Tracy wanted to know more.
“That’s true, she did,” the pastor acquiesced. “She’s a good person, wonderful. But most of us wondered if it really helped. He truly loved her. This hit him deeply.”
Was it possible that Andy was involved? Tracy wondered. “Could Candace’s disappearance have been his doing?” Tracy asked in a low tone.
“Impossible.” The Pastor tossed his head back. “Right now Andy’s grieving more than anyone.”
As Tracy and Pastor Boyd walked, the breezes from the water blew up against them, tossing Tracy’s hair in her face.
“I’m concerned about you, Tracy,” Pastor Boyd started. “I have a daughter about your age and I certainly wouldn’t expose her to this danger. I would never permit it.”
Tracy appreciated his concern. “This is the work I do, Pastor,” she replied.
He stopped walking a moment and looked at her closely. “Yes, of course, I realize, and that’s a different discussion.”
It struck Tracy that perhaps he’d called her here to talk about her safety. If that was his purpose, it would be a waste of time. Tracy decided to take charge of the conversation.
“I’m so glad you wanted to talk to me,” she said, turning things in another direction. “I’d like to know more about Candace and Wayne’s relationship. There’s word around that it wasn’t entirely a happy one.”
The Pastor grimaced. “That’s not so,” he replied instantly.
“I’ve heard that Kevin wanted to postpone the wedding and possibly Candace wanted this as well?” Tracy went on.
“They were a fine couple, deeply in love,” intoned the pastor as if he were delivering a sermon at this church. “When two come together, we must support the union in every way possible.”
“Even if things aren’t going well?” asked Tracy.
“Last-minute nerves are normal,” the pastor responded in a resonant tone. Tracy felt that he’d said this hundreds of times to all kinds of couples. Last-minute nerves was certainly a common occurrence.
“This isn’t exactly at case of last-minute nerves.” Tracy tried to go deeper. “Candace is gone, someone could have harmed her.”
“I’m aware of that.” The pastor’s lower lip started to tremble. “Extremely aware. But there’s absolutely no chance that it was Wayne, if that is what you’re suggesting. Candace’s being nervous about the wedding is no proof of that at all. They loved each other, were drawn together by a larger force than we can imagine, or ever control.”
“We’re desperately seeking linkages between the victims.” Tracy wanted to ground him and put their talk on a solid footing. “You’ve seen the paintings Wayne buys and sells, and he’s out of town a great deal.”
Pastor Boyd became defensive. He turned and looked out at the river where a beautiful boat passed. “Why do you focus on Wayne?”
“I just can’t help wondering if Wayne could possibly have ties to the first victim, Tina?” Tracy was searching for anything he might have for her.
“The prostitute?” Pastor Boyd’s back arched. “Why do you ask? Because of the nude women in Wayne’s paintings?” He began walking more quickly then, with a little limp.
“Exactly,” said Tracy.
“I doubt very much that there’s any connection at all between Wayne and Tina.” The pastor’s face grew ruddy. “Wayne is a fine, upstanding young man. In fact, he was the one who kept urging Candace to set the date quickly. As far as I see, despite the subject matter of his paintings, he has strong family values. That’s fairly rare these days, wouldn’t you say?”
“I suppose it is,” Tracy replied. “But what was the rush? Why was he pressuring her?”
“Why do you ask? There’s no need to tear down others, is there?” Pastor Boyd stopped walking, and looked distressed. “It’s commonplace these days to look for the worse, revel in it.”
“I’m not tearing Wayne down,” Tracy defended herself. “It’s my job to learn everything about a person, good and bad, beautiful and ugly. Whatever I discover helps me save lives.”
Pastor Boyd stepped a few feet back. “Oh, I realize that, I truly do,” he exclaimed. “I am not admonishing you, far from it. Yours is noble work, righteous, you’re sacrificing yourself.” Then he stared at Tracy intensely. “How well I realize that people live with contradictions, have many aspects to them. How confusing it is that someone who is fine and upstanding can also sell art like Wayne does. One has to look for the good, though, and nourish it.”
Tracy was struck by his remark. “It is confusing,” she replied. “It’s much easier when someone’s just rotten through and through.”
“No one is just rotten through and through,” the pastor objected. “It is my job to find the kernel of good in every person I meet. And I do. I find it.”
And my job, thought Tracy, to find the darkness, bring it to the surface and stop it from doing harm. She appreciated and respected the pastor’s remarks, though. In fact, they struck her.
“There is no way I’m suggesting that your work isn’t necessary and vital.” Pastor Boyd slowed down a bit. The sky grew darker as they walked along together.
“Quite a day, isn’t it?” said Tracy, wanting to break the tension that was building between them.
“Heavy rains predicted,” Pastor Boyd uttered. “Thunderstorms until midnight.”
“This must be very hard for you, Pastor,” Tracy went on. “People are frightened, they come to see you about it.”
“Everyone is frightened by how long it’s taking to find the killer and make the streets in Boston safe again.” Pastor Boyd’s hands clenched. “We have no idea where he’s hiding.”
Tracy looked up and down the banks of the river, thinking of what Tad had said. “Maybe he’s not hiding?” she remarked. “Maybe he’s roaming outdoors right now, just as we are.”
That thought was unsettling and Pastor Boyd swallowed quickly a few times. “Maybe, but I doubt it,” he remarked. “They usually hide away in darkness, don’t they?”
“Not at all,” said Tracy. “Sometimes they hide right in plain sight. And sometimes they don’t hide at all. Some are pleased and proud of what they’ve done. There are all kinds of different reasons why people kill.”
“Indeed, I suppose.” Pastor Boyd turned his face toward the sky, seemingly not wanting to hear more now.
“We have to find the link between the victims,” said Tracy. “We have to see how the killer connected with them. That’s why I asked if Wayne knew Tina.”
“I wish I knew more, I really do,” Pastor Boyd exclaimed. “I wish I knew how the killer met them, where he met them, what they said to each other. But I don’t.” The rain started to fall and he swiftly opened his umbrella. “Didn’t you bring an umbrella, Tracy?” he asked.
“No, I just came directly,” Tracy replied, “there wasn’t time to get one.”
“Come step under my umbrella,” the pastor offered. “We’ll walk back together. I’ll keep you dry.”
Tracy didn’t want to. There was nothing wrong with the soft, warm drops of rain in spring. She didn’t have to protect herself from them. Besides, she wanted to stay here alone for a while and think everything over. It was good being out of the offices, near the river that flowed along freely no matter what went right or wrong.
“I’m fine as I am,” said Tracy.
“No, you’re not, Tracy.” Pastor Boyd’s voice grew firmer. “You’re in danger and you don’t even know it! Or you don’t seem to care. You’ve done a wonderful job, people think highly of you, but now, if you asked me, it’s time for you to go home.”
Tracy was appalled by his suggestion. “Home?”
“Kevin feels responsible and is absolutely horrified at the thought of something happening to you. He begged me last night to insist you go home.”
Tracy had absolutely no intention of leaving in the middle of a case. She couldn’t if she wanted to.
“You’re not a detective anyway, you’re a profiler,” the pastor continued, “and you’ve given us your views. Your work is done.” He looked worried about her.
“There’s not such a big difference between a profiler and a detective.” Tracy wanted to set him straight. “One function blends into another.”
The pastor didn’t want to hear another thing though. “Now go home and take care of yourself. I’m sure your family will be thrilled to see you. They’ll be relieved. Where do your parents live?”
His question unnerved her. “My mother is gone,” Tracy said warily, not sure why she was telling him this.
“Gone?” Pastor Boyd seemed flummoxed.
“My mother went missing when I was fourteen,” Tracy pronounced. “Someone took her.” It felt good to be talking about it.
“Oh, dear Lord,” the pastor responded. “Your mother was killed?”
“Not necessarily.” Tracy stood taller as it began to pour. “Her body was never found. For all we know she could still be alive.”
“Doubtful, very doubtful,” he muttered.
“I believe she is still alive.” Tracy spoke louder, overpowering his despair. “And I believe one day I’ll find her.”
“Oh dear, my dear.” He looked shaken.
“I will not give up hope,” Tracy insisted. “Not in this case, or with my mother!”
“How about your father?” Pastor Boyd changed the topic. “Where is he?”
“My father lives with his new wife and children,” Tracy filled in. “He’s lived with them a long time.”
“You are also his child,” the pastor insisted. “He must care about you.”
“Not really,” said Tracy, looking into the pastor’s crystal clear blue eyes that suddenly were filling with tears.
