CHAPTER 9
Field Dressing Station: Dr. Jonathan Letterman, appointed medical director of the Union Army in 1862, created a staged, three-tier treatment plan for wounded soldiers evacuated from the battlefield by the newly formed Ambulance Corps. Stage one, the mobile field dressing station, was located close to the battlefield and manned by medical personnel capable of applying tourniquets and rudimentary field dressings.
Wednesday, May 24, 3:34 PM
Northwest Hospital
Randallstown, Maryland
“Thanks again for this,” McCord said with a sideways glance.
McCord and Meg moved through the hospital corridor, Hawk heeling on Meg’s left. They stepped to the side to give an orderly with a gurney more room; then they continued toward their destination—room 327.
“This time, we’ve got a story you can run with in real time. Craig is absolutely on board—so much so, he gave the green light even before talking to Peters. We need to warn any woman who might be vulnerable, and the best chance is to get the story out there in as big a way as possible.”
“The Post will be perfect for that. Here we are—room 327.”
The door leading into the private room was open, but Meg knocked on the door before leaning into the room. “Cat? It’s Meg Jennings from the FBI. May I come in?”
“Yes.”
Meg and McCord entered the room to find Cat, cleaner and with considerably more color in her face, lying in the bed. The monitors around her were all dark, but a hanging IV bag dripped fluid steadily at the head of the bed.
Meg motioned to McCord, who hung back a bit. “I’m here with Clay McCord. Do you remember him from the mine?”
The smile Cat gave McCord was full of gratitude. “Of course I do. You were there when I woke up. You kept me company in the dark.”
“That was me.” McCord moved forward, holding out his hand. They shook, but even Meg could see her grip was weak. “I feel like I should introduce myself properly. Clay McCord, from the Washington Post.”
The hand in McCord’s grasp went completely limp. “You’re a reporter?”
“Yes. And I want to make that clear, because I’d like to do a story on you.” When Cat drew back, McCord threw a Help me look at Meg.
Meg circled the bed with Hawk to come up on Cat’s other side. “I hope it’s okay we brought Hawk. He does hospital visits all the time. He’s very well behaved.”
“I love dogs. I miss my own. We’re rarely apart.” Cat held out her hand, being careful not to tug on the IV, and Hawk slid his head under her palm, allowing her to stroke him. “The FBI agents here earlier said he found me.”
“Mr. McCord figured out where you were. Hawk tracked you down, once we got there. Teamwork.”
Cat looked back up at McCord, most of the suspicion gone now. “You found me?”
“I worked out where you might be from the clues.” He shrugged. “No special skills. Just a well-read history buff, with a pretty good memory for mostly useless facts.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Meg said. “Cat, the agents here earlier, did they tell you about the case we’re working and the first two victims?”
Cat nodded.
“And they told you the person who took you has a specific victim type he’s choosing?”
“Yes.” Cat’s gaze narrowed on her face for several seconds. “They said the victims looked like one of the FBI handlers. They meant you, didn’t they? Fair skin, light eyes, and long, dark hair.”
“Black Irish, through and through. Yes, that’s the current theory.”
“Why is he doing this?”
“We don’t know yet. But we’re working on it.”
“That’s part of why we want to get the word out there,” McCord cut in smoothly. “We don’t think he’s finished. We think other women might be at risk. So we want to warn them. And I can use my position at the Post to do that. I can leave your name out of it, but, honestly, it’s going to be out there already.”
Cat blew out a long breath and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “ ‘Mother, Maiden, and Crone, grant me strength. As you will, so mote it be.’ ” She looked directly at McCord, her eyes sparking with anger. “Let’s do it, all of it, name and everything.”
McCord grinned and pulled up a chair. “You’re amazing. And after all you’ve been through today!”
“No one else should go through this.” Sadness replaced the anger. “I was luckier than the first woman he took. But there’s no guarantee the next one will be.”
“There isn’t,” Meg agreed. “So let’s try to keep him from taking her in the first place.” She pulled up another chair and sat down, Hawk settling on the ground at her feet with a gusty sigh of contentment.
Cat smiled down at the relaxed dog. “He’s had a busy day.”
“He has. But he’s a ball of energy. Give him ten minutes of downtime and he’ll be raring to go again. He’s used to grabbing whatever rest he can, whenever he can.”
“My dog is just like that.” Concern filled her voice. “The agents said they have Lachlan and would arrange to have him dropped off at my parents’ home. The doctors tell me I have two broken ribs and an incomplete fracture in a third, so they want to keep me overnight just for observation. We won’t be separated for long, but I just want to make sure he gets there safely.”
“Would you like me to follow up on that for you?” Meg leaned forward and laid a hand over hers. “Trust me, I get it. If I was separated from Hawk, I’d be going crazy until I knew he was okay.”
Cat gave a rueful laugh. “Exactly. Do you mind?”
“Not at all. I’ll find out before we leave today so you’re not worrying about it.” Meg saw McCord was ready and had not only a pad of paper open on his knee, but his phone out.
“Cat, do you mind if we record this? We don’t have to, but it would help capture the whole conversation.”
“I don’t mind at all.” She shifted slightly on the bed and a soft moan of pain escaped her. “Sorry, it’s not that bad with the painkillers they’ve given me, but if I move, or, worse, cough, it’s like someone stuck a sword right through me.” Biting her lip against the pain, she shifted once more, and settled before turning to McCord. “Okay, I’m ready. What do you want to know?”
“Let’s start from the beginning. You were at Joseph’s House this morning with Lachlan.”
“Yes. Lachlan is a certified therapy dog and we volunteer weekly.” Cat looked back toward Meg. “I’m Wiccan, and we have very strong beliefs about community service. Everything we do will be returned threefold. And I happen to have a fantastic dog, so we trained and certified for therapy dog work. He’s such a sweetie. The patients love him and look forward to his visits.”
“So this is a regular thing. Same time, same day, every week?” McCord asked.
“Like clockwork. It’s important to the patients that they have something to depend on, something to look forward t—” She stopped suddenly. “You think he knew my routine.”
“We think he’s selecting his targets ahead of time. Possibly has had them selected for a while. So now that it’s time to act, he can set up the abductions quickly.”
“He’s been watching me?” Her tone rose in alarm.
“We can’t be certain,” Meg said, “but we think so. However, you’re safe now. He’s done with you.”
“Thank the Goddess.”
“So you went to Joseph’s House for your regular visit.”
“Yes. Eight-thirty to ten in the morning. Although this morning, I didn’t leave until about ten-fifteen because one of the patients wasn’t doing so well. He’s in palliative care at this point, and the doctor was in with him. So we waited because I didn’t want to disappoint him.” Her eyes grew shiny and she blinked furiously. “I don’t think he’ll be there next week when we go.”
“I’m sorry,” McCord said quietly. Cat blew out a long breath and gave a small laugh at herself. “I’m ridiculous. It’s just . . . some of these patien
ts have been around for years, since we started. They’re friends now, and it’s hard to lose friends.”
Meg handed her a tissue. “It is. Take your time.”
Cat dabbed at her eyes, then blew her nose. “Sorry, I’m not usually this emotional. It’s like I’ve had a difficult day or something.” She gave a shaky laugh. “Keep going.”
“So you left Joseph’s House at ten-fifteen. Then what happened?”
“I always park around the corner on Ontario Road Northwest. So we were walking back to the car and were just passing a white panel van with the back doors open.”
“Any markings on the van?”
“I don’t remember any. No name or logo.”
“Any preexisting markings might have been covered over. Do you remember what was inside the van?”
Cat’s gaze narrowed on the far wall, her eyes going unfocused. “Wire cages. An installed shelving unit on one side, with drawers in it to keep stuff. Maybe a net?” Her eyes snapped back into focus as she looked at Meg. “I’m sorry, I didn’t really take a good look at it.”
“That’s okay. For not taking a good look, that’s a great rundown. What else do you remember?”
“I remember a man standing near the van, staring at his phone. Standing with his back to me.”
McCord looked over at Meg. “Probably using the front-facing camera to track her progress down the street so he could keep his head down and his back to her.”
Meg gave a short nod of agreement.
“Can you tell us anything specific about the man?” McCord asked. “Hair color, height, weight, build?”
“Honestly, I didn’t really see him, if you know what I mean. I saw the persona he wanted me to see. He was wearing all navy blue—pants and a short-sleeved shirt. He had on one of those heavy utility belts, like police officers wear with all the attachments. But no gun, I don’t think. There was a shoulder patch on his left shoulder that very clearly said, ‘Animal Control.’ It looked official, and had a city crest on it, but I didn’t recognize the crest. He had a baseball cap on, with ‘Animal Control’ on it in big letters. When he turned around, the sun flashed off the badge he wore.” Cat patted her chest just above her left breast. “It was the shape of a police badge, but I didn’t see what it said. He turned in my direction and asked if I knew where 2650 Ontario Road was, and when I turned to look at the house number beside us, his arm came around my neck and he pressed something wet and cold over my mouth and nose. After that, it all went fuzzy.”
“Inhaled anesthetic,” Meg said. “Probably a soaked gauze pad. So you heard his voice.”
“Yes.”
“You’re certain it was a man?”
“Yes.”
“We’ve been hypothesizing the suspect is male, but we didn’t have any actual proof. Did you get a look at him?”
“I didn’t. He had his head down so the brim of his cap shaded his face. He had a map open on his phone and was moving it up and down the street, like he was trying to find the specific address. When he looked up to talk to me, he only barely tipped his face up. I saw his lips move and could see he had light skin, but that’s about it. And then I turned to look at the addresses, and that was it.”
“Enough to work with a sketch artist?” McCord asked.
Meg shook her head. “Just the lower face isn’t enough. That would throw the suspect pool too wide and would waste resources needlessly.” She turned to the woman in the bed. “Let’s look at how he knew things about you. He knew you volunteered on Wednesday mornings. He knew you were Wiccan. How would he know about that?”
“That’s certainly an open book. We’re not a cult that meets in secret so no one knows about our dirty second lives.”
“That’s not what I was implying.”
“I know. But that’s how some people think we should treat it. It’s our faith, and it’s based on purity, truth, and the goodness of Mother Earth. We’re out in the community doing good works when we can. We hold open meetings, and we talk to the curious. We’ve been on the news and in the newspapers. So that part of my life is anything but secret.”
“He tried to kill you based on your faith,” McCord said.
“No, he tried to kill me based on the historical prejudices of a group of ultraconservative, late-seventeenth-century Christians. The Witch Trials of Salem played off the fears of Europe’s Burning Times. A bunch of bored teenage girls took advantage of people’s real fears and innocents died. Including Giles Corey.” The eyes that met Meg’s were hard with anger. “I know what he tried to do to me and why. But only because he doesn’t understand anything about Wiccans at all.”
“I don’t think he wants to understand. He wants to make a point and get my attention. You’re simply a pawn in his game. And he’s going to pay for that. That’s my promise to you.”
“ ‘So mote it be.’ ” Her face colored and she sank into herself. “And that was a very un-Wiccan response. ‘Do harm to none’ is how we live our lives.”
“Didn’t you just say that everything you do will be returned threefold? Well, we’ll be his deliverance of that. None of this is on you. And your faith aside, it’s a pretty human thing to want to see justice for a wrong done to you. You’ve had a pretty horrible day, so take it easy on yourself. Now we have one more question that won’t be in the article because it’s all very specific to you and not to the greater public. We’re working on the theory he’s not only tying the method of death to the victim, but also to the location. Is there any reason the Choate Mine would be linked to you in any way?”
Cat was silent for a moment as she considered the question. “Not the mine, which I didn’t even know existed, but the area. Soldiers Delight is an area high in the mineral serpentine.”
“That’s what’s found in the serpentinite,” McCord clarified. “The actual rock itself.”
“Yes. We believe crystals are power objects that contain elemental energy, be it protection against evil, assistance in healing, good fortune, meditation, or in many other aspects of life. Serpentine is said to enhance the emotion of love, but also to bring peace. For decades, perhaps longer, the local Wiccans have used a site in the forest near Soldiers Delight for our handfasting ceremonies. To commit to your life partner surrounded by the stone that will enhance your love.”
McCord sat back in his chair, laying his pen down on the pad of paper. “ ‘Handfasting’? Is that some sort of marriage?”
“It’s our marriage.”
“It’s legal?”
“It can be. We’re lucky to have a clergy member who is also a legal officiant. Our handfastings are legally binding ceremonies. But instead of Scripture readings and homilies in a church setting, we stand in a circle under Father Sky, blessed by the bounties of Mother Earth, as we invoke the four elements. We bind together the hands of the couple, we bless the loving cup, exchange vows and jewelry, and sometimes the couple even jumps over a broomstick, as was done in the old ways. It’s a lovely ceremony.” She gave McCord a pointed look. “Where do you think the phrase ‘tying the knot’ comes from?”
“I had no idea. You learn something new every day. So this place is near the mine?”
“I could show you on a map, but I’d bet it was within a mile of where you found me.”
“So we’re three for three then,” Meg said. “The victims are related to the site.”
“Has this been helpful?” The hope in Cat’s voice was tangible.
“Very. If he takes another woman, we have a second investigative avenue to follow.” Meg looked over to McCord. “Have you got everything you need?”
“I do. I can get this done ASAP and over to my waiting editor. It will be online tonight and front page for the six AM edition tomorrow.”
“Perfect. Cat, give me a minute, I’m going to make some calls and find out where Lachlan is.” Rising, Meg pulled out her cell phone and walked to the window to stare out over the rooftops of the surrounding neighborhood. Within minutes, she had her answer and could turn ba
ck, with a smile, to the woman in the bed. “He’s safely at your parents’. He arrived there about a half hour ago.”
Cat laid a hand—carefully—over her breast in relief. “Thank you. I’d prefer he was here with me, but I feel better knowing he’s with people he loves.”
McCord flipped his pad of paper closed and stood, holding out his hand. “We’re grateful for your assistance, especially right now. I’m so sorry you went through what you did, but this could very well help another woman stay alive.”
They said their good-byes and hurried out to Meg’s SUV. “I’ll drop you off and then I’m picking up Cara and the dogs and we’re headed out to our parents.”
“To explain all of this to them?”
“This isn’t something to handle on the phone. And before you ask, yes, I’ll make sure it’s clear to Cara what the risks are. I’m not going to let that son of a bitch touch my family.”
CHAPTER 10
Soldiers Rest: The Soldiers Rest in Alexandria, Virginia, was built as a temporary layover and rest stop for Union soldiers in transit. Occasionally, it also housed captured Confederate deserters who pledged an oath of loyalty to the Union. The complex consisted of sleeping quarters, bathhouse, a library and reading rooms, medical facilities, a kitchen and mess hall, perimeter fencing, and a guardhouse. It was briefly used as a hospital during the summer of 1864, and after the war, some of the United States Colored Troops were quartered there. It was closed and sold at public auction in 1866.
Wednesday, May 24, 6:50 PM
Cold Spring Haven Animal Rescue
Cold Spring Hollow, Virginia
“God, I’ve missed this place.” Meg turned off Cold Spring Road and into the long, winding driveway that led to both their parents’ home and the rescue. “It’s been too long.”
“We’ve been busy. But we need to make a concerted effort to get down here more often. Even if it’s just for the day.” Cara sat back in the passenger seat, and took a deep breath of country air through the open window. Spring had given way to the warmth of oncoming summer and the air was rich with the scents of grass and flowers. The miles that sped by, once out of the city, were filled with the vibrant greens of verdant forest and farmers’ fields.
Before It's Too Late Page 9
