by Debra Webb
Maybe he’d get lucky and find someone who would show him the way, like Nick showed her.
When the light changed Troy rolled forward and Bobbie checked her cell, grateful the moment had passed. She wished she would hear from Nick or even Weller.
The same questions nudged at her. Why this place and why all these children?
Dead children.
God, she hated Randolph Weller.
Eleven
Happy Pets Cemetery
7:30 p.m.
Nick had followed Bobbie to the police headquarters, to the coroner’s office and then back to the headquarters before returning to the cemetery. Once there, he had watched until the last of the official vehicles except one left the scene. The kenneled animals at the clinic had all been taken away by their owners. A surveillance detail remained parked on the street in front of the veterinary clinic to protect the scene.
Finding a local resource, a maintenance worker at the police headquarters, had been easy enough. So far the information wasn’t that much, but hopefully he would have more soon. Two bodies and several sets of remains had been discovered at the scene. He wasn’t sure how Bobbie had been drawn into the investigation. Whatever her involvement, he suspected Weller would be pulling the strings as he had in Montgomery.
Nick moved through the trees until he reached the backside of the cemetery. Under the circumstances there was little he could do in the way of analyzing or searching the area, but simply being here would provide him with a sense of the place.
In the middle of the cemetery where the remains of broken statues lay scattered about, he sat down on the cold ground and surveyed the area. The likenesses of five children had been standing amid the headstones all these years, concealing the ugly truth. At least four children had been murdered and entombed in this place.
Nick stared up at the larger statue that remained intact. An angel. He wondered where all the angels were when children went missing every hour of every day. No one had been looking out for these children.
No one had looked out for him.
He touched a fractured piece of the concrete, felt the grainy texture of its timeworn surface, the sharp, broken edges. Not one of the pet headstones had been damaged. The children’s statues had been targeted for the specific purpose of revealing the remains trapped inside.
Nick got to his feet and moved through the darkness to the home that had belonged to Bill and Nancy Sanders. Crime scene tape still cordoned the property. A plastic seal warning the property was a crime scene had been placed on the rear entrance and likely the front entrance of the home. Nick bypassed the back door and went to one of the first-floor windows along the rear of the house.
Gaining entrance to the home was as easy as lifting the lower sash and climbing inside. The window wasn’t locked. He slipped into a bedroom and quickly made his way into the hall. The victims had been found in the bathrooms. In the master suite Nick used his phone’s flashlight app to survey the framed photos. He picked up one from the Sanderses’ forty-fifth wedding anniversary.
Both victims had been pillars of the community. There was nothing in their pasts that he’d found so far that would point to an event such as this one. He would keep digging for information on the two. Their closest friends would need to be scrutinized, as well.
He studied the older couple’s faces. “Who else knew your secret?”
His cell vibrated. Nick set the photo aside and tugged the phone from his pocket. Unknown Number.
He accepted the call but didn’t speak.
“So sorry I was unable to stay and chat with you during your visit with Lawrence.”
Weller.
Nick laughed despite the rage clawing at him. “I’m right behind you, old man.”
“So very close, indeed,” Weller said. “In fact, I watched you in the cemetery when you first arrived minutes ago.”
Nick resisted the urge to rush outside and look for him. He would be long gone. He would never put himself in a position so close and then make this call.
“I should have allowed you to have pets growing up.” Weller sighed. “I’m convinced the bond between boy and dog often translates into better relationships as an adult. Perhaps that’s why you can’t seem to keep anyone in your life.”
Nick would not rise to his bait. “Enjoy your temporary freedom, you piece of shit, because this time I’m going to make sure you never take another life.”
“Ah, so you’ll take mine.” Weller chuckled. “That’s my boy.”
Fury burst inside Nick despite his best efforts to remain calm.
“Keep your eye on the prize, Nicholas,” Weller warned. “Bobbie’s need to save everyone but herself may be the death of her this time.”
“It’s me you want,” Nick growled. “Why the games? Every second you choose not to completely disappear is one more you risk being caught. Tell me where you are and we’ll finish this now.”
“Good luck, Nicholas.” Weller laughed. “May the best killer win.”
Twelve
Habersham Street
8:30 p.m.
Bobbie closed the file she’d been reviewing and decided she’d had enough reading for the day. She thought of the address LeDoux had given her. If nothing else she would drive by and see if this Amelia Potter was home before calling it a night. She could show Potter a photo of Nick and ask if she knew him. She could question her about Weller.
Was the photo Zacharias’s way of warning Potter somehow? Was she a so-far-unidentified serial killer? If so, maybe she was involved with what happened to the children. Maybe Sanders had been her lover. Or was she connected to Weller some other way? Would Nick be coming for Potter? Or did she need Nick’s help? To Bobbie’s knowledge, neither Weller nor his attorney had ever directed anyone to Nick for help.
Too many questions and not enough answers.
Delores had gone home hours ago. She’d told Bobbie to exit the headquarters building through the side entrance. The rest of the offices in the building were already locked except Troy’s. Bobbie turned out the light in his office and set the knob to lock when she closed the door. She followed the side corridor as the receptionist who, according to Troy, was also his right hand had instructed. Once Bobbie had exited the building, the door locked behind her. A cold rain had fallen while she was huddled over those files. She was thankful for the sweatshirt she wore.
Bobbie climbed into her Challenger. If anyone was watching her, she hadn’t spotted the tail. She should call the chief first. He was still in the hospital and she hated the idea of making him worry any more than he already had.
After setting the navigation system to direct her to River Street and muting the audio, she made the call she’d been avoiding all day. Chief Theodore Peterson answered his cell on the first ring.
“I should suspend you right now, Detective.”
Bobbie almost smiled despite the fury she heard simmering in his voice. “You can’t suspend me, I resigned, remember?”
“I don’t recall accepting your resignation,” he countered. “Where the hell are you?”
Going for the abridged version, she brought him up to speed on the case.
“You should let the FBI, GBI and the Marshals Service handle this, Bobbie. You’re getting in way over your head. Weller is—”
“You know I can’t do that. I was invited into this, I can’t just walk away.” She’d already provided him with the details of how she’d come to be in Savannah. Most of them, anyway. She hadn’t mentioned her encounter with LeDoux.
The chief argued with her a minute more but finally caved after she offered again to turn in her badge. “I need to know you’re safe, Bobbie. That’s all.”
“I’m as safe here as I would be anywhere. I have to finish this...” For Nick. And for Bauer.
As if he’d read her mind, he asked, “You aren’t coming back for Bauer’s funeral?”
His question echoed inside her well after the call ended. How could she go back until she had stopped Weller? She was the reason Weller came to Montgomery, in a manner of speaking. How could she put aside what she had to do, drive all the way back to Montgomery for the funeral and face the people who knew he had been murdered because of her? She couldn’t face those people until she brought down the evil primarily responsible for his death. She couldn’t. Bauer would have done the same for her.
Every second Weller was out there was a chance someone else would die and the likelihood of catching him dwindled.
As she made the final turn indicated on the nav screen, she wondered if LeDoux was still in custody. She also wondered again if he’d killed Zacharias and hidden his body. What the hell else had he done to have the very Bureau to which he had dedicated his life coming down on him?
Maybe she didn’t want to know the answer to that last question.
Bobbie cleared her head and surveyed River Street. The area was home to mostly retail shops. Many appeared to have apartments on the second and, in some cases, third floors. All the shops were decorated for fall with pumpkins and pots of mums; some included cornstalks and bales of hay while others sported the usual Halloween ghouls and goblins. Finally, on the corner, she spotted the number she’d been looking for. The sign on the plate-glass window read The Gentle Palm. Bobbie pulled over to the curb opposite the small shop. Amelia Potter was a palm reader? Why would Zacharias send a picture of Nick to her? Was he that desperate for help?
Yeah, right, Bobbie. A man as intelligent and cunning as Zacharias would have a good reason for every step he made. Especially when his life was going to hell in a handbasket.
The downstairs portion of the shop was dark. Light glowed from the windows upstairs. Rather than driving away since it was so late, Bobbie decided to watch for a while. Eventually a woman appeared at the French doors that exited out onto a small second-story balcony. She wandered out onto the outdoor space, a steaming mug in her hand. She gazed up at the sky. Her hair looked blond or gray. She was tall and thin. According to the information in the case file, Potter was fifty-four. The woman she presumed to be Potter went back inside and closed the doors. Drapes slid across the French doors. Bobbie started the car and pulled away from the curb. No point waiting around out here in the dark. Sleep would do her a world of good and then she would be fresh in the morning.
A few blocks later she found her destination. The bed-and-breakfast was actually a historic home that had been meticulously restored from what she could see and transitioned into an inn. Bobbie parked on the street. She grabbed her bag and locked the car. The damp night air was thick with the pungent scents of the nearby river and the heavy moss hanging from the trees. She climbed the steps that were lined with pumpkins and mums to the front entrance. Inside the lobby that had been a parlor in a former life, she stepped up to the antique counter and rang the bell. The sound had barely stopped vibrating the air when a pleasant-faced woman of sixty or so appeared behind the counter. She wore a pink sweater that complemented her fair complexion. Her brown hair was peppered with gray and fashioned into a long braid that hung over one shoulder.
She grinned. “You must be Bobbie. I’m Lou Ella.” She thrust her hand across the counter. “Troy told me you were coming.”
Bobbie gave her hand a shake. “Thanks for taking care of me on such short notice.”
The innkeeper snagged a key from an old-fashioned row of wooden boxes. “We’re thrilled to have you. In fact, you’re getting the best room in the house for your stay, sweetheart.”
“Don’t go to too much trouble,” Bobbie urged. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.”
“No trouble at all.” Lou Ella bounced up the stairs like a woman half her age. “We’re usually full up this time of year—you know Halloween is just a couple of days away—but we had a last-minute cancellation. So you’re in luck.”
Lou Ella spent the rest of the climb to the third floor and on to the end of the hall telling Bobbie about Troy. By the time Lou Ella unlocked the door, Bobbie knew Troy had been married once and then divorced. He had no children and currently wasn’t dating anyone.
All things Bobbie certainly needed to know. She wondered if Troy knew his aunt liked playing the part of matchmaker.
“I hope you’ll be comfortable here. Pay no mind to the ghosts.” Lou Ella grinned. “They’re harmless.”
Bobbie surveyed the big room with its four-poster bed and antique furnishings. “Thank you.” She decided not to mention that she didn’t believe in ghosts.
Lou Ella left the key with Bobbie and said good-night.
When she’d locked the door, Bobbie tossed her bag aside and went to the front windows. Streetlamps gave a preview of the stunning historic architecture along the block. Across the street was Chippewa Square. She and James had walked that park. She closed her eyes against the memories. She should take a shower and get some sleep. Anything could happen before daylight. She thought of the Potter woman. Maybe she would go see Potter in the morning and get a reading. At this point she was just desperate enough. If the woman really had any so-called sight she would recognize Bobbie wasn’t just a tourist.
Bobbie shook off the idea. Something else she didn’t believe in.
She plugged the charger into the outlet near the bedside table and set her phone to charge. She found the remote and clicked on the television. She zipped through the channels until she hit a local newscast. When she saw Troy’s face in the video clip playing over the anchor’s shoulder, she raised the volume.
“Tomorrow,” Troy said, “the GBI and the FBI will be joining our investigation. For now we’re doing all we can to find closure for the families. They have a right to know how this happened and to see that justice is served.”
The broadcast went back to the anchor and Bobbie muted the volume. She toed off her sneakers, tugged off her sweatshirt and shucked her jeans. A long hot shower was calling her name. She needed time to process all that had occurred in the past twenty or so hours. Had Weller killed the Sanderses or was the killer another of his cronies like Steven Devine had been? Either way, the move seemed damned bold for a man on the run from the feds.
Did those long-missing children have some bearing on whatever he needed to prove to Nick? Or was he only playing more games with their lives? If Nick would stop trying to push her away, they could talk this out. He would build his case map and they would figure out what the hell was going on.
Her cell rang and Bobbie rushed to check the screen, hoping against hope it was Nick.
The boss.
Damn it. She grabbed her phone, jerking it loose from the charger. “Hey, is the chief okay?” She’d spoken to him less than an hour ago.
“He’s doing well,” Owens assured her. “He may be able to go home tomorrow.”
He’d been too busy debating Bobbie’s decision about this case to mention he might be released from the hospital soon. The man worried about her far too much. Another stab of guilt elbowed Bobbie. She should have called the chief and Owens already. Lieutenant Eudora Owens was the commander of the Major Crimes Unit in Montgomery. She was also the chief’s undisclosed girlfriend. Bobbie had suspected for a while that the two were close but she’d had no idea how close. Good for you, Uncle Teddy.
“That’s great.” Part of her felt ashamed for not being at the chief’s side. He’d always been there for her. You have to do this, Bobbie.
“Bobbie, I just received a call from Special Agent Hadden.”
That couldn’t be good. Michael Hadden was the agent assigned to Montgomery’s small FBI field office. He’d worked with the task force on the Storyteller case and more recently during the Devine-Weller investigation. Typically when the LT received a call from Hadden, the feds either wan
ted something or MPD had stepped on their toes somehow.
“Have they found Weller?” Bobbie knew that wasn’t likely. It would have been all over the news, but it was better than asking what she had done this time.
“Unfortunately not.” Owens’s heavy sigh cut through the silence that followed. “Weller’s attorney, Lawrence Zacharias, was murdered this morning. They found his body as well as his driver’s and that of a courier from a local delivery service a few hours ago.”
Shit. Both she and LeDoux had been in the man’s house that morning. LeDoux had admitted intercepting the courier. Damn. If LeDoux had lied to her... “Do they believe Weller killed them?”
“The driver was bashed in the head and left in the garage at Zacharias’s home, but Zacharias and the courier were left in a rental house in Norcross owned by one of the attorney’s LLCs. Their bodies were mutilated the same as all Weller’s other victims. Hadden suggested the consensus is that the work is Weller’s.”
Wow. Somehow Bobbie had hoped the attorney would come forward and help with the hunt for Weller. She should have known they’d never get that lucky. “Have they found anything that might help in the search for Weller?”
“Not that I’ve been made aware of, but there are three things our friends from the Bureau wanted me to know they considered relevant to their investigation.”
Oh hell.
“Your fingerprints were found in Zacharias’s home.”
Bobbie should at least attempt to explain why she had been in Zacharias’s house. “I wanted to ask him if he’d heard from Nick or from Weller, but he wasn’t home.” Without giving Owens time to comment, she asked, “What about Nick’s prints?” She didn’t want him to be considered a suspect in the attorney’s murder. She was certain Zacharias’s home was his first stop after leaving her house. It was the only logical step he could have taken.
