“Well, we have that much in common.”
When she didn’t respond, Sam’s voice softened. “Come on, Fiona. It’s no skin off your back to be nice to me. Maybe I have some information that might help you with your case.”
“Do you?”
“Not yet, but I will. I’m good at what I do.”
“So am I.”
“So maybe we’ll be even better if we share what we have. What we might have in the future.”
“What exactly do you want?”
“I want to know about the other cases. How many. Where. If the victims fit a profile.”
“I can tell you right now, they do not.” She reached into the envelope where she’d tucked the photos of the three victims and dumped them onto the counter. The lifeless eyes of Ross Walker stared blankly back at her. “As a matter of fact, I was just looking over the three cases, trying to figure out what I’m missing. Why I can’t get a handle on it.”
“Three? All male?”
She hesitated. There really was no good reason to cooperate with a private detective. Then again, this PI had the reputation of being one of the best profilers the Bureau had had, and she could use his insight. Add that to the fact that if he went to John Mancini, his former and her current boss, John would probably side with Sam and tell her to talk to him anyway. Might as well cut out the middleman.
“Three,” she told him. “Different ages, socioeconomics, you name it. They have nothing in common except the manner in which they died.”
“Can I meet you somewhere, Fiona? Can I see your files? Can we talk about this?” Sam sounded excited in a way that she, herself, could relate to. Nothing got her going like the nuts and bolts of a case.
“Where are you?”
“I’m about seventy miles from Philadelphia.”
“I need to be in Philly first thing on Monday on another matter. I was planning on driving up on Sunday. Maybe I could meet you someplace …”
“I can meet you in a restaurant partway between here and Philly, if you like. There’s a diner out on Route 30 …”
“If you’re thinking of looking at these photos—and you are going to want to do that, side by side—you’re going to want to do that in private. These are not pictures you want John Q. Public getting a glance at over his meat loaf and mashed potatoes. Maybe I should meet you at your office.”
“I’m not sure what goes on around here on Sundays. I’ve only been here for a week. Our offices are in Robert Magellan’s house,” he explained.
“You work in Robert Magellan’s house? Is it fabulous? What’s he like?”
“Why, Fiona, you sound like a fan.”
She laughed. “I suppose I do. Sorry. It’s just that he’s such an enigmatic figure.”
“So enigmatic that I haven’t even met him yet,” Sam admitted. “He’s been away, working with a search group to look for his son. I guess you’ve heard about that.”
“I have. Crazy business, finding the car with the remains of the wife, and no trace of the baby. I’m sure he’s going out of his mind, trying to find his son. I’m surprised he doesn’t have you working on that case for him.”
“One of the investigators is with him. He has a team of local volunteers combing the woods and the ravine where the car was found. Whether the boy is dead or alive, the word around the Foundation is that he will keep looking until he finds out what happened.”
“I hope he does. Anyway, about Sunday …”
“I’ll check on the protocol for meetings on Sundays, and I’ll get back to you.”
“I’ll wait to hear from you.” She hung up the phone and tucked the photos back into their envelope. As hard as it was going to be for her to share, it would be worth it if Sam lived up to his reputation and gave her some insights into the killer she was determined to find.
She turned off the kitchen light, and yawning, climbed the stairs to the second floor, and the bed she hadn’t slept in for the past two nights.
EIGHT
Susanna Jones sat on the trunk of a fallen tree and held her head in her hands. It was almost four o’clock in the afternoon and she and the other searchers had walked every inch of today’s grid three ways from Sunday and hadn’t found a clue to what might have happened to Ian Magellan. Once the local police had released the crime scene—the area where Beth Magellan’s car and remains had been found—Robert had organized a group of local citizens who’d been eager to help look for the missing child. They’d been at it now for three days, and Susanna’s head, feet, and back hurt, although perhaps not as much as her heart.
The crunch of hiking boots on the forest floor drew her attention, and she looked up to see a very solemn Robert coming into the clearing. He held a bottle of water out to her, and she took it gratefully.
“You about ready to turn in for today?” he asked.
“I am if you are.”
“We still have a few more hours of daylight.” He looked around. “We could make the grid for tomorrow’s walk.”
“All right.” She tried her best not to sigh. She wanted to be upbeat for his sake, wanted to be positive, but she couldn’t even begin to calculate the odds of their finding Ian after all this time. Unless, of course, he was dead, and his remains were left here someplace, though that was unthinkable. She stood and brushed off the seat of her pants. “Let’s do that.”
“You know, Emme and I just had a talk a few minutes ago,” Robert told her as they walked back to join the group. “She still thinks we should ask the FBI to step in and treat this as a kidnapping.”
“What do you think?”
“I think I want to continue looking myself.” He took her by the elbow as they walked along. “No one has more at stake in this search than I do. No one is going to look as closely at every inch of ground. The FBI might send in one person to investigate, not the dozens we have out here with us now.”
When she did not respond, he asked, “Do you think I’m wrong in wanting to do this my way?”
“Robert, I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I know the FBI has resources that we don’t have.”
“Like what?”
“Like maybe they know how to read the terrain better than we do.”
“Suse, if you’re talking about things like broken branches or footprints, those things would have been long gone anyway. It’s been a long time since that car went over the edge up there. I doubt there’s much to be found, if there ever was.”
“Then why are we here, Rob?”
“Because there’s nowhere else for me to go,” he told her. “I can’t think of doing anything but look for him. This is the last place where I know for certain my boy was.”
She understood his anguish, and she understood what was in his heart, just as she always did.
“Tomorrow we’ll go farther down the mountain,” she told him. “Maybe we’ll find something tomorrow.”
He took her hand and squeezed it. “Thanks for not giving up on me,” he said. “For understanding why I need to do this, at least for a little while longer.”
“I do think we ought to send Emme back to Conroy, though. She’s missing Chloe, and even though I’m sure Trula is doing a bang-up job as a nanny, I think it’s time for Emme to go back.”
“You’re right,” he agreed readily. “I’ll let her know.”
They walked side by side to the clearing where the volunteers who still remained were waiting to see what their next step would be.
“What’s it gonna be, boss?” one of the volunteers called to Robert. “You want to keep going? Got a few more hours of daylight here.”
Susanna glanced around at the expectant faces. There was no doubt in her mind that they’d stay till darkness fell if he asked them to. She tugged on Robert’s hand to hold him back for a moment.
“On second thought,” she told him quietly, “let’s call it a day. We need to talk with Emme for a few minutes before she heads home.”
“Good point.” Robert nodded. To the group, he sa
id, “We’re going to wrap it up for today. I want to thank each and every one of you for giving your time and energy again today. I appreciate it more than I can say. I know you all have lives and families of your own, so your volunteering to spend some of your time to walk this mountain with me means a lot.”
“You gonna be back tomorrow morning?” someone asked.
“I will, yes,” Robert replied.
“Then I’ll be here, too,” the same volunteer told him.
“Me, too,” someone else called.
“I’ll be here,” called another.
“Thank you. I don’t want you to neglect your own families, but I appreciate any time you can give,” Robert said.
“I’m bringing mine with me.” A man near the back of the group cupped his hands. “Three teenagers. Gonna have ’em walk off some of that attitude.”
“Good idea, Clyde. Maybe I’ll bring mine, too.”
There was light laughter as the crowd dispersed, with lots of See you tomorrows.
Soon the clearing was deserted except for Robert and Susanna. Emme was speaking with a middle aged woman near the road. As Susanna and Robert approached, Emme looked up to meet Susanna’s eyes.
“What?” Suse asked.
“This is Barbara Cooper,” Emme said. “She’s just back from visiting family in Florida and heard about our search for Ian.”
“That’s very good of you, Barbara.” Robert’s weariness was beginning to show. “I appreciate you coming down today to help us out.”
“Oh, I wish I’d been here sooner, but I literally just got off the plane this afternoon, and when my neighbor told me about the search for your baby, I just had to come over.” The woman appeared slightly out of breath. “I was just telling Ms. Caldwell about the cabin.”
“Cabin?” Robert’s head snapped around to stare at her. “What cabin?”
“There’s a cabin about a half mile downstream from here, and—”
“Why haven’t I heard about this before?” Robert’s dismay was written on his face.
“Maybe because it is so far downstream no one thought it was significant,” Barbara told him. “Or maybe the fact that it’s located in the next county might have something to do with it.”
“But you seem to think it has significance?” Susanna stepped forward.
“Well, as I was telling Ms. Caldwell here, the cabin belongs to me, but I rent it exclusively to the Sisters of St. Anthony. They’re a very small order.” She added wryly, “And getting smaller every year, it seems. Between sisters leaving, and sisters dying, why, the numbers—”
“The cabin is rented to a religious order?” an impatient Robert said, interrupting her.
“Yes. They used to use it for solitary contemplation—you know, when one of the sisters wanted to have some time to herself to pray and commune with the elements.” She smiled and added, “The cabin has no heat, so the communing usually took place in the more moderate months.”
“Please tell Robert and Susanna what you told me,” Emme urged.
“Well, as I was saying, I just got back from Florida, and when I arrived home, there was a message from one of the sisters asking if the cabin was available to be used next weekend. Well, I told her it was available, but God only knows what condition it’s in. No one’s been out there in almost two years. So I thought I’d go out and take a look, make sure it was tidy, clean up the dust, bring the bed linens back to freshen them, you know.”
The tension in Robert’s face was beginning to take on a life of its own, but it was becoming increasingly clear that Barbara Cooper would get to the point when she got there.
“So I drove out and parked up on the main road; there’s no road leading down to the cabin, so I had to park about a half mile away and walk down the path. It’s pretty steep, and for my old knees, it gets steeper every time. But I get down to the cabin and the first thing I notice is that the padlock is on the ground and the door is open.” Barbara frowned. “So I’m standing outside thinking, what if someone is in there, you know? I tried to peek through the windows but the curtains were pulled over so I couldn’t see inside. I tried to call 911, but I had no cell reception out there. So I waited for a few minutes, and realized I couldn’t hear anything going on inside, so I pushed the door open slowly and peered around. Well, it was obvious no one was there, but just as obvious that someone had been. My first thought was some kids probably broke in to drink beer or make a little whoopee, you know. But as soon as I stepped inside, I knew that wasn’t the case.”
She ran the back of her hand across her forehead, which was shiny with sweat—a combination, Susanna assumed, of the heat, the humidity, and the experience she was relating.
“For one thing, the cabin was neat as a pin. For another”—Barbara stuck her hand in her pocket and took out something small—“I found this on the floor.”
She extended her hand and held out her open palm, and Robert reached for it to take a closer look.
“It’s a button,” he said softly. “Suse … look.”
Susanna peered into Barbara’s palm. The button was white with what appeared to be a tiny blue boat painted on it. Susanna’s heart leapt in her chest.
“It’s Ian’s,” she whispered.
“Thank God.” Robert’s eyes brimmed. “He was there. Someone brought him there.”
Emme leaned in to see. “It’s a button, all right, and I agree it’s most likely from clothing that a little boy might wear, but why are you so sure it’s Ian’s?”
“That’s a hand-painted button,” Susanna told her. “One of a kind. Well, one of the eight that were on a little blue sweater that Beth dressed him in quite often.”
“Still, let’s not get too excited. There must be other sweaters just like Ian’s.”
“Uh-uh.” Susanna shook her head. “Trula knitted that sweater, and I painted the little ships on the buttons myself. It was a shower gift. No other like it. This”—she pointed to the button—“was Ian’s.”
“Let’s call the police back,” Robert said, suddenly looking less weary. “If someone brought Ian here, there was a reason. My guess? Someone found him, and took him, maybe stayed here with him until they decided what to do with him. Which means that chances are, he’s alive.” He turned to Susanna and hugged her. “My son is alive, Suse. My son is alive.”
Susanna bit her tongue. Not knowing who had the baby, or why they’d taken him, there was in her mind no cause for celebration, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak the words. Someone else could do that. Emme, or the police, or the FBI. But not her. It had been too long since she’d seen that light of hope in Robert’s eyes, and she wasn’t about to be the one to put it out.
“Barbara, will you take us to the cabin?” Robert grasped the woman by the arm.
Before she could respond, Susanna said, “Let’s call the police first, Rob. There could very well be evidence there that could lead us to Ian. Let’s not compromise anything, all right?”
He nodded and released his grip on Barbara. “Yes, you’re right. We’ll get the police there first.”
“I think we should have the FBI called in,” Emme told them. “It’s pretty clear that Ian has been kidnapped, and that’s the FBI’s deal. Let’s see if the locals agree.”
The locals did agree, but weren’t inclined to wait around for the Bureau to make an appearance, opting instead to contain the cabin and the path and a perimeter of approximately half a mile in every direction. The state police were called in with their crew of investigators to scour the cabin, inside and out, for every trace of evidence to be found. All of the evidence that had been removed was bagged and marked, some of it already on its way to the FBI lab at the request of the agent who was to arrive late Saturday afternoon.
“If we had our own lab,” Robert said to Suse over breakfast on Saturday, “we wouldn’t have to wait for anyone. We could analyze the evidence ourselves.”
He was edgy, his mood subdued since the police had found several spots of blood
on the cabin floor. They’d taken samples from Robert to determine if there was a match to the droplets.
“Robert, chances are that neither the police nor the FBI would be willing to turn over evidence for you to have tested,” Susanna said.
“I could make my lab available to them for free. Save them from hiring out. Save them a lot of money.” He fell silent. “Let’s do that. Let’s look for someone who can set it up and figure out what we need and hire some good techs.”
“Robert, you know that there’s a good chance the blood isn’t Ian’s. It could be from an animal, or if we’re really lucky, it could turn out to be from the person who has Ian.”
“Or it could be Ian’s,” he said. “He could have been hurt.”
“It could be something very minor, like a pinprick.” She fought the urge to reach across the table and smooth back the hair from his forehead. Yesterday he’d been so elated, and now that look of despair was settling in around his eyes again. She did reach out to him, touching his hand instead of his face. “Let’s not borrow trouble, as Trula always says. Let’s wait and see.”
“I’ve been waiting a long time, Suse.” He raised his head to look at her, and corrected himself. “We’ve been waiting a long time. You’ve been with me through every moment of this nightmare.”
“It’s what friends do,” she heard herself say.
“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” he said. “Have I ever told you that?”
“Actually, yes, you have.” She forced a smile. “Several times.”
“It’s true. You’ve always been there for me, Suse.”
“And I always will be.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “No matter what, I’ll always be here for you …”
NINE
You’re acting a little antsy today,” Trula observed from her place at the counter where she was trying unsuccessfully to open a jar of cherries she’d canned earlier in the season. “What is it about this Fiona person that’s making you so nervous, Sam?”
“Nervous?” Sam frowned. “I’m not nervous.”
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