by Alex Kava
She glanced at the digital alarm clock. 6:45 a.m.
Not unusual for Greg to be up and gone by seven. She slept hard last night. No dreams about her father interrupting. No wonder she didn’t hear Greg in the shower or getting dressed.
Another bang-clink, tap-tap, clink.
It sounded like it was coming from inside the apartment.
This time Maggie grabbed at her nightstand drawer. She had her Smith & Wesson in her hand before she rolled out of the bed. On tiptoes, she headed toward the sound. The bedroom was down a narrow hallway interrupted by a door to a half bath. The hallway opened to the living room and kitchen. The only thing that separated those two rooms was a long counter with four barstools.
The noise had stopped. Maggie stayed in the hallway. She slowed her breathing, and steadied her fingers on her weapon. Then she leaned forward just enough to glance in at the kitchen. The first thing she saw was a white foam takeout container on the counter, and her pulse began to race.
The next bang-clank made her jump.
Her palms were already slippery with sweat. She readjusted her grip. The sound was coming from the kitchen but she couldn’t see anything. It was close to the floor, hidden by the counter.
She eyed the container. No blood dripping down the sides from what she could see. She slid her body around the corner then glanced at her feet. She looked for the floorboards that she knew would creak, and she sidestepped them.
The banging was more constant now and she took advantage of it drowning out her approach. She led with her revolver and rushed the last steps around the counter and into the kitchen.
Greg lie sprawled half under the sink. When he saw her, he startled and smacked his head against the cabinet.
“Geez, Maggie! What the hell?”
Now she could see the wrench in his hand. There were pieces of pipe scattered around the tiled floor next to him.
“I thought you’d left for work. I heard a weird sound.”
She turned around to the takeout container. Now on this side of the counter she saw a discarded bag next to it with the logo of Greg’s favorite pastry shop.
“You know, Maggie, one of these days you’re going to shoot me. This is just one more reason to leave that stupid job.”
That stupid job that she loved.
But she didn’t say anything. Instead, she placed the revolver on the counter, pointing it safely away from her husband.
“What are you doing?” she finally asked him.
He crawled to his feet and wiped his hands on a towel already grimy from his efforts.
“I’m taking apart the pipes under the sink.”
“I can see that, but why?” She opened the refrigerator and grabbed a carton of orange juice and poured herself a glass. She started sipping, waiting for her pulse to return to normal.
“Why do you think? I’m hoping I can retrieve your ring.”
Maggie almost choked on her orange juice. Thankfully, he was more interested in cleaning his wrench and hands than he was in her reaction. She tried to remember the last time she had seen him with a tool. Quite honestly, she didn’t know he even owned any tools.
“Sometimes stuff gets caught in the elbow,” he said.
That was true. She’d heard Ganza plenty of times talking about how killers thought they could flush evidence down the drain, and it would get stuck in the pipes.
“Aren’t you going into work today?”
“It’s Saturday.”
She felt a twinge of guilt. He was going to end up spending a good portion of his day under the sink. She needed to tell him the truth.
“I still can’t believe how irresponsible you can be sometimes.” He was shaking his head at her now. Hands clean, he reached for the pastry container, grabbed his cup of coffee and headed for the living room.
Yesterday he’d fixed her breakfast. This morning he hadn’t even picked up an extra pastry for her. If he was this upset about her losing her wedding ring down the kitchen drain, how angry would he be to hear that it was actually at the bottom of a river? And that she lost it while trying to pull a floater from the cold water. She’d never hear the end of how she needed to quit that stupid job until he finally made her quit that stupid job.
Either way, whether the ring went down the drain or to the bottom of the river, there would be no salvaging it. Maggie poured more orange juice, picked up her Smith & Wesson and retreated down the hallway to their bedroom. Thankfully, she needed to get to work.
41
Outside Arlington, Virginia
Gwen had handpicked this facility for Katie, and Cunningham had simply nodded and made it happen. As she pulled up to the building she was thinking that professionally she could get him to agree to just about anything. He respected her expertise that much. Personally? She had no idea where she stood. Although over the last thirty-six hours she had never felt closer to him.
He still insisted on having an agent on the grounds 24/7, and after what happened in the hospital parking lot, Gwen agreed. The place had tight security and was a locked facility. She had trusted it with her most secretive and public clients that included congressmen and one general. But there was a difference in protecting against reporters or paparazzi and murderous madmen.
The rooms were small suites that would include a private area for Katie’s grandmother. But when Gwen knocked and opened the door she was surprised to find only Agent Delaney. Katie was sitting up in bed. All the IVs were gone. She was concentrating on sucking at the straw of what looked like a chocolate milk shake. Both she and Delaney looked up at Gwen and smiled.
“What did I interrupt?”
“He tells funny stories,” the girl told her and rolled her eyes at Delaney, but she was obviously enjoying his company. “Mr. Delaney brought me a chocolate shake.”
Gwen was amazed how quickly the girl had gotten attached to him. She watched Katie’s eyes and how intently they tracked Delaney even as he got up and fetched a chair for Gwen. In the many hours she had spent with Katie at the hospital she hadn’t been able to accomplish this sort of bond. Perhaps she was transferring her longing and affection for her father onto Delaney. Or perhaps Gwen was a tad jealous. As a psychiatrist she knew both were probably a little bit true.
Gwen noticed that Delaney had a briefcase at his feet leaning against the side of the chair. He caught her eyes and nodded. So he had been successful in getting a least one good photo of Deputy Steele without his hat. She knew he’d include photos of others, maybe even suspects in other crimes. Either way, they’d soon find out whether or not Katie would recognize Steele or simply remembered his hat.
“Is your grandmother here today?” Gwen asked.
Katie nodded, but it was Delaney who answered. “Lucille went to get herself some coffee. I mentioned that you and I wanted to talk to Katie this morning, and then we’d talk with her.”
“Did your husband come with you?” Katie asked.
“My husband? You mean Mr. Cunningham?”
Katie nodded again as she slurped up the last of her shake, holding the cup in two hands and tilting it until the straw gurgled with more air than milkshake.
“Oh sweetie, we’re not married,” Gwen told her and knew immediately that it was too late to control the blush that started at the base of her neck. She glanced at Delaney. He simply smiled and shrugged as if to say, “That’s just kids.” Which only made Gwen want to get on with their business.
“Katie, do you remember me telling you yesterday why we were moving you here?”
“Because it’s prettier.”
This was going to be harder than Gwen expected.
“That’s true, it is prettier. But that’s not exactly what I said. Do you remember?”
The girl’s head bobbed again, and Gwen tried to hide her frustration. She reminded herself that any response was a positive sig
n. She heard Delaney pull the briefcase up into his lap, and immediately he had Katie’s attention. When Gwen glanced at him, he caught her eyes and silently asked her permission. She gave him a slight nod.
“I have some pictures inside my case,” he told Katie as he snapped it open. “Remember I told you I’m trying to catch the bad guy?”
Katie’s hands dropped. The straw came out of her mouth. But her eyes didn’t leave Delaney and the briefcase.
“I think I know who he is, but I need to be sure. Would it be okay if you looked at my pictures and tell me if you see him?”
Gwen scooted closer to the bedside and without even looking in Gwen’s direction, Katie’s hand reached out for hers. It was wet and sticky and Gwen held on tight.
As Delaney pulled out the photos, the girl looked up at Gwen and said, “We’re gonna find the bad guy.”
“That’s right. But if you feel sick or scared at any time we’ll stop, okay?”
Delaney slid the rolling tray over Katie’s bed so he could place the photographs in front of her. Then he began placing them one at a time, side by side with a couple of seconds in between.
“Try not to think too hard,” Gwen told the girl when she noticed her brow furrowing. “Just look. This isn’t a test. There’s no wrong or–”
“That’s him,” Katie said with a tinge of excitement, almost as if they were playing a game, and she was relieved that it was easier than she thought it would be.
Gwen had been watching Katie’s face, but now she glanced down at the photo she was pointing to. It was Deputy Steele’s photo. Without his hat. He was dressed in a blue polo shirt and he was smiling. But did she recognize him as the man who shot her father, or did she simply recognize him as the man outside her hospital room?
Delaney must have been thinking the same thing because he asked, “Are you sure?”
Now she started looking at the other photos. Her lip quivered. She wasn’t sure, and she wanted to please Delaney.
“He looked into my room,” she said, so softly Gwen found herself leaning forward.
“So you saw him at the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“But is this the man you saw outside your uncle’s trailer?”
She stared at the photo, and Gwen could see tears starting to well up in her eyes.
“I don’t know for sure,” she finally said, her lower lip quivering, her little fingers digging into Gwen’s hand.
“It’s okay,” Gwen told her. She gestured for Delaney to pick up the photos. “It’s okay if you don’t remember.”
“But how will you get the bad guy?” she asked Delaney.
“Don’t worry, we will,” he reassured her. He moved the tray away from the bed, and he patted her on the back. Just at that moment there was a gentle tap at the door.
“How’s it going in here?” The girl’s grandmother came in, and she was holding a stuffed brown dog. “Grandpa brought your doggy.”
Katie’s eyes brightened and her hand flew away from Gwen’s as she reached for the stuffed animal. Gwen met Delaney at the door.
“We’ll be right back,” she told Katie and her grandmother, but the girl’s attention had left them.
Gwen and Delaney walked side by side down the hallway before either of them spoke. Finally they turned the corner and found an area across from the reception desk where there was no one else.
“She might never remember the events of that day,” Gwen said. “I don’t think she even remembers walking around inside the trailer, although Cunningham said she had blood on the soles of her feet when you found her.”
“And there were footprints on the carpet. Small. Bare feet.”
“Truthfully, it no longer matters whether or not she can identify Deputy Steele. And she hasn’t mentioned a second man.”
“I’ll speak with her grandmother. Maybe she’ll know something we don’t.”
“I’m going to recommend some therapy for Katie. Dr. Anderson is better equipped to work with traumatized children.”
“So you’re done with her? That’s it?”
She checked his eyes. He made it sound like an accusation. Like she was abandoning Katie.
“I’ll still see her, and I’ll still be a consultant for her therapy, but as far as getting any more information from her, I don’t think we can wait. Right now the best thing you and I can do for Katie is to find this second killer. Because we won’t be able to protect her forever.”
42
Devil's Backbone State Forest
At the first hint of dawn, Susan had climbed up into one of her hiding places. The huge oak tree overlooked the shed. Three lower branches provided steps up to a V where she practically was invisible inside the canopy of leaves. She could sit comfortably—or as comfortable as possible in a tree with a bum knee and way too many bruises.
Today she didn’t have the energy to leave her sanctuary. Which she realized was ironic. Here, she had told herself the last two nights—was it two nights or three—that she’d returned to the shed to rest so that she would have enough strength the next day to go out and find a path out of this place. And already she had decided to stay put. But staying put did not mean giving up. She’d even dragged her new weapon up into the tree. Somehow she had convinced herself to conserve her energy for when the crazy man returned.
Now she was beginning to wonder if he’d ever come back. She hadn’t thought about what would happen when she ran out of food. Water would be easier. She’d already taken the brand new bucket he’d left for her port-a-potty and used it to catch rainwater. Going to the bathroom in the woods was no big deal. It was more important to have fresh rainwater to bathe and drink.
At first she wasn’t sure he meant to leave the bag of food. But then she realized bringing anything to this shed was not an easy task. He wanted her to eat and keep up her strength, and that realization brought a new wave of fear. He wanted her to be strong for whatever he had planned for her. But what if she saw him first. Was there a way for her to blindside him?
The sun continued to stay behind the clouds. There had been no rain…yet. Susan could hear the low rumble of thunder in the distance. She leaned her head against the bark. The sounds of the forest and the approaching storm lulled her. So much so, that she almost didn’t pay attention when she heard another rumble. Only this one was not thunder.
She jerked up, straining to hear.
Was that an engine?
Muted and low, the sound was coming from the other side of the rock wall that towered behind the rear of the shed. That was the only section she hadn’t attempted because the rocks looked impossible to scale. But that was before she started climbing trees. Now from her perch she tried to calculate the risk.
She listened, this time holding her breath. She was annoyed that her thumping heartbeat interfered. Yes, it was definitely an engine. Was it him? Should she wait? Stay hidden? She needed the element of surprise on her side.
What if it wasn’t him? What if it was someone else?
It didn’t take her long to decide. She scrambled down the tree hauling her batting ram with her. But when she got to the foot of the rock wall she stood there looking up. It towered at least twenty-feet high. There were some scrubs growing between the cracks but most of them were up higher. Still, she examined the surface for footholds.
What was the risk? So she climbed up to meet him. What did it matter? Deep down she knew she wouldn’t win the eventual battle. He looked old and vulnerable but he had proven to be very strong and cunning. Even if she were able to surprise him and hit him from behind, she’d still need to find a way out of here.
Susan tossed aside the branch she had considered her best weapon. There was no way she could climb and hold onto it. She ignored the pain in her knee and the aches in her body. She started searching for a place to step and found a protrusion of rock. She lifted h
erself up then looked for another and another. Soon she reached the shrubs and discovered they were strong enough to grab onto.
She pushed and pulled her body, stretching and leaning inch by inch. She was breathing so hard when she reached the top that she couldn’t hear over her own gasps for breath. She laid her body flat against the grassy patch and lifted her head to make sure she was alone.
Then she heard a car door slam, and Susan regretted that she might have made a mistake. Suddenly, she longed for the safety of the shed. She kept herself pressed into the grass. The engine was running but the sound was still muted. That’s when she realized that there was a rock wall on this side, too. The noises she heard were coming from down below.
She crawled until she came to the ledge of the other side. The tall grass would hopefully be enough to keep her hidden. She peeked over the edge.
There was a road.
Oh my God! There was a road!
She tamped down her excitement and tried to stay quiet. This side of the rock wall was almost higher than the other. She could see a man walking to the back of the car. He opened the trunk of the small sedan and bent over it like he was going to remove something.
He looked nothing like the man she remembered. This one didn’t walk with a limb. He stood straight and tall, not hunched over. He was leaner. Definitely no paunch. And he was younger.
No, this couldn’t be the same man. Should she wave to him? Call out and get his attention? He pulled and lifted a great bulk up and out of the trunk just as she started to crawl to her feet.
Then she saw an arm slide down from out of the bundle, and Susan dropped to her belly.
43
Cunningham had asked Maggie to come up with a profile for the Collector. He wanted her to tell him who this killer was. But right now they had nothing but a few pieces of evidence. And in one case, literally only a piece of a victim.
