Carved in Stone

by Julia Shupe

  He dug his toes into the barrow beneath his feet, the curve of the rise like a pregnant woman’s swollen belly. Cowpen Slough had thrown him for a loop. The location had shaken him to his core. For his women weren’t buried at the slough. Not there. They were lying, peacefully, in the dirt beneath his feet.

  Chapter 36

  It was half past ten when I walked through the door. Linda was curled up on the couch with a book, and apparently, Danny had fallen asleep thirty minutes before I walked in.

  I wanted to punch myself.

  “He tried to stay up,” she said, folding the corner of a pristine page. “He did his best. He wanted you to tuck him into bed.”

  “It’s okay. It’s late. I’m glad he went to bed.”

  She splayed the book across her knees. “Long day?”

  “The longest. I’m glad it’s over. You have no idea how good it feels to be home.”

  “Did you make headway on the case?” Cocking her head, she gave me a knowing look. “I know what you’ve been working on. I saw it on the news. You’re working Cowpen Slough, am I right?”

  “In a minute,” I replied, showing her my palm. Before I delved into any of that, I needed to see my son’s face. I hung my parka on the hook by the door and tried to keep myself from running to his room. The day had been chaotic, a true disappointment. I’d been pulled in so many different directions; I just needed something to anchor my feet to the floor.

  Gil and I had raced to The Secret Garden nursery, and lucky for us, most of the employees were still there. They were kind and helpful, eager to talk about Alaina. She seemed to be a popular woman. They’d described her as quiet and kind. The place was enormous, one of the largest nurseries in the state of Florida. If we hadn’t been there on official business, I would have loved to spend the evening roaming its many aisles. Flowers, herbs, trees, soil: as I walked through the store, I couldn’t help but think of Danny, of all of the things we should be doing together, of all of the life experiences he was missing because of me. Maybe, like Scott said, I was selfish. Maybe I was holding Danny back. Would he flourish in an environment only Scott could provide? A family with brothers, sisters, and pets. Family dinners in the kitchen by six. Was I holding Danny back from a healthy kind of normalcy? Was I treating him like a terminally ill patient? Keeping him with me because I couldn’t face life alone? Maybe I should just let him go, I thought suddenly, let him flourish, spread his wings, and thrive.

  I entered his room and was immediately calmed. The tension of the day had made knots of my muscles. Though we’d flashed Carlton Tubbs’ photo to every employee at that damn nursery, there hadn’t been a single bloody hit. We’d ruffled feathers, rattled cages. We’d examined employee logs and time cards, even asked a few people to come down to the station. But in my heart, I doubted our efforts. My thoughts kept returning to one simple thing: our perp was an animal, a calculating predator, and predators don’t shit where they eat.

  By all accounts, Alaina, was a much-loved woman, soft-spoken, and gentle of spirit. It broke my heart to imagine her suffering. Her killer had broken a bone in her cheek, her knee, and several of her ribs. According to the Medical Examiner, he’d strangled her at least fifteen times. It was a game to him. Macabre entertainment. He’d bring her close to the brink of death then pull her back to his harsh reality. He’d entice her with a sweet release, but fail to deliver it, time and time again. It was the way he exerted his dominance. He would choose the time of her death. He would choose the method of execution. And he would control how much pain she would bear.

  I lowered myself to the edge of Danny’s bed. He was lying on his side, hands curled beneath his chin, like a cat. On the nightstand, beside him, the nightlight shone, in blue and green patterns on the walls. He loved that lamp. He’d picked it out himself when we’d converted his baby nursery into a big-boy room. We’d ditched the crib and chosen a small bed, and the lamp had been part of the overall theme. Danny loved the ocean, fish, coral and seaweed. He wanted to sleep in an aquarium, he had said. So that’s what we’d built; a private oasis, his own secret place beneath the sea.

  His glass of water was sitting on top of a book, but it wasn’t the book we’d been reading this week. The Lion, the Witch, and Wardrobe was still tucked beneath the bed, the marker in the same place I’d left it last week. My heart swelled. He’d waited for me. Smoothing his hair behind his ear, I tucked the corners of the blankets around him. I may be selfish. Scott was probably right, but Danny was happy, and that’s what mattered most. He wanted to be here. He’d said so himself. And as I watched him breathe softly through his mouth, I whispered a silent oath. I’d honor his wishes. I’d never stop fighting. Because that, of course, was what good mothers did. If there ever came a time when Danny wanted to live with Scott, I’d deal with it then. I’d find a way through it. But if he wanted to be with me, I’d fight like hell.

  I kissed his cheek and silently closed the door. Back in the living room, Linda had poured me a glass of wine. “So,” she said. “I want details. You’re working the Cowpen girls. Am I right?”

  I nodded.

  “How many have there been?”

  “Can’t say.”

  “Have you got any suspects?”

  “A few.” A lie. “One,” I confessed. “A strong one.” I dropped my head to the cushions. “Our biggest problem, of course, is that we simply can’t find him.”

  She shuffled beside me, set her feet to the floor. “Vanessa, someone was here, earlier. A man.”

  I lifted my head. “What man?”

  “I couldn’t see him clearly; he was wearing a baseball cap. It was a red, pulled low over his brow. He was wearing a raincoat. Yellow. Bright yellow.”

  My heart thundered in my chest. “Why are you telling me this now? Why didn’t you call me before? When it happened?”

  She was focusing on something on the table. I followed her gaze. “There wasn’t much to tell. He didn’t stay long. I figured you’d accuse me of being paranoid again.” She turned her deadpan gaze to me. “He was standing outside with a map in his hands. He was pretending to read, but he wasn’t. I’m certain.”

  Her tone dared me to disagree. I didn’t. Instead, I thought about Dr. Hagen’s receptionist. I was itching to ask her outright, but I couldn’t. If I did, I’d give myself away. If I assumed she knew who Brian was, she’d know I knew about her appointment with Adrianna, and I wanted her to tell me when she was ready. I owed her that much. I wanted to earn her trust. Reaching for my phone, I sent a text.

  Did you run into Brian at Dr. Hagen’s office?

  Jacob’s response was immediate.

  No, but I met Dr. Hagen. Interesting woman.

  Ness, I think you were right.

  Brian had a valid reason to visit that school.

  I pursed my lips. Did he really?

  “Are you listening to me, Ness? I just told you a man’s been lurking outside our house.”

  “I’m listening, Lin.” I turned to her. “What else can you tell me? How long did he stay? I need details. What could you see? Did he approach the door?”

  Her eyes flitted to the coffee table, where an empty glass was sitting on its edge. The red stain in the bottom didn’t look like juice. “I couldn’t see much, but he was somehow familiar. And he stayed out there for nearly fifteen minutes, in the rain, touching the car door like he wanted to leave. When he finally decided to get back into the car, he pulled out a map, and pretended to read. But I swear to you: he wasn’t reading.”

  I digested the information and sent Jacob another text.

  So he had valid reasons for visiting the school.

  Did he have a valid reason for lurking outside my house?

  What? He’s there? Right now?

  No. Linda said she saw someone earlier.

  We can’t be certain it’s him, Jake. She didn’t get a good look.

  Yellow parka, baseball cap. What do you think?

  I think I’m sending a car right now. Sit tight
.

  “Can you put that damned thing down for one second?”

  I did, though somewhat reluctantly.

  “Sorry. I’m here. I’m listening, Lin. I apologize. It’s been a long day.”

  “Yeah. When is it not? I want to know about the Cowpen case. What can you tell me?”

  “Not much.” I paused, chewed on my lip.

  “What is it?”

  I breathed out a sigh. I’d had this crazy feeling since I’d been to the nursery. The truth, I felt, was right in front of my face. I felt like I was perched at the edge of understanding, but for some odd reason, couldn’t see it. “I’m trying to work it out,” I said slowly. “The randomness of it; it means something to me. The randomness itself is the key to this case.” I lifted my hands to my face and closed my eyes. “I don’t know. There’s something I’m not seeing. It’s maddening.”

  “It’ll all come together. You’ll figure it out. Connections are usually the simplest of things. The tiniest clue tends to pull it all together.” She took a deep breath. “Ness, there’s something I need to talk to you about. Last week, when you went to California, I made an appointment with—”

  A knock at the door sent her flying to her feet.

  “It’s ten-thirty,” she hissed in my direction. “What the hell? Who knocks on a door at ten-thirty at night?”

  My hand instinctively moved to my gun. I hadn’t locked it up for the night.

  “Stay back,” I whispered. “In case he came back.”

  That was one instruction she followed eagerly. Linda possessed an overactive imagination—rightfully so. When someone you love is taken from you, I suppose paranoia is an ordinary response. I, on the other hand, wasn’t normally this jumpy. But given current circumstances, I should cut myself a break. I was working a ghastly serial killer case, and had received yet another strange box in the mail. Add to that a stranger lurking outside your front door, and what do you get? A bundle of raw nerves.

  I waited him out, our surprise visitor, but the knock came again. And again. He was persistent. And when I peered through the peephole, he peered right back.

  “It’s late,” I demanded. “What do you want?”

  The man held up a business card to the tiny fisheye lens. “Horowitz and Campbell, Attorneys at law.” He plucked an envelope from the bag at his side then set it outside my front door.

  “Vanessa Stone?” he said sternly, “You’ve been served.”

  Chapter 37

  “At least you know an excellent attorney,” said Gil, as he set his hands atop mine.

  Though I tried to make my mouth form a smile, I couldn’t. “Abbie’s the best,” I admitted. “I know she is. And I’m thankful for her—and for you. And for the significant discount she’s offering. But it doesn’t make this sting any less. How dare Scott do this to me? Does he not give a shit about his son?”

  Jacob was perched at the corner of my desk, and I was suddenly self-conscious about the material displayed on my computer screen. I’d been examining Harry’s list of Smiths, and for some strange reason, I didn’t want him knowing that. “Do you know how hard it is for fathers to win custody?” he was saying. “Juries don’t often take children from their mothers. Do you know how rare that is?”

  “I know,” I said quietly. His empathy was touching. “I know this’ll be an uphill battle for Scott. I just can’t get over the fact that he’s done it, the fact that he’d actually take things this far. In truth, it’s obscene.”

  “It is,” Gil agreed. “And I’ve already talked to Abbs about it. Scott can’t win. There’s no way in hell. He can present all the faux evidence he wants. He can paint himself as father-of-the-year, smear you, vilify you, portray you as Norma-fucking-Bates, if he wants. In the end, it won’t work. He’s got no chance. In the end, it all comes down to what Danny wants. Scott should know that. This is all a waste of time.”

  I nodded. He was making a good point, but I was afraid he was missing a larger one, too. The act itself was gruesome and cruel. How could a father willingly do this to his son? Make him choose between his mother and his father? And in front a jury of complete strangers, no less. It was sick. It was twisted. To me, it wasn’t love.

  “Scott should be ashamed of himself,” I spat. “To put his son through months of torment, and the mother of his child through endless court fees.” I dropped my head. “This is such a damned joke.”

  “At least the porch-lurker was the attorney’s errand boy, and not some crazy lunatic wielding a knife.” This from Gil who was only trying to help. Despite my pain, I cracked a smile.

  “Are those my only two options in life? Is that what my life’s come down to now? Are the only people visiting my home delivering court summons or boxes of hair? Great, Gil. That’s just fucking great.” I shook my head. “Enough about that. Let’s talk about the case. We’re wasting precious time. I’m not spending the rest of the morning musing about my twisted ex-husband. To find this killer, we need to get to work. In fact,” I added, “That’s something I wanted to talk to you about. It’s one of the things that need to change around here. We work from morning till evening—and hard. And we don’t waste time while we’re doing it. When we’re here, we’re here. Every moment is precious. We’ve got a missing girl to find, and the clock is ticking. We can’t waste time. And I can’t spend every waking moment at this office. I have a son, a family. When we work, we work, and we don’t fuck around. If I’m going to win this case, I have to put my son first. I can’t traipse through the door at ten o’clock at night anymore. I have to make it home for dinner. I have to cook. I have to read him bedtime stories. Does anyone have a problem with that?”

  “No, Sir,” Gil said, saluting me.

  My smile widened, but I bit back my laugh. “I mean it, guys. I need you to take this seriously.”

  “We are,” Jacob said. “Dead serious. In fact, we’re starting right now. Those videos aren’t about to watch themselves.”

  He was right. I needed to get busy. Turning back to my computer, I quickly closed the list of Smiths by municipality. I shouldn’t be focusing on that. Not now. Not after the speech I’d just given. I needed to focus on things that would yield results. Opening the coffee shop video surveillance files, I decided to study the camera above the entrance. I was tired of looking at the one behind the register, at the outline of a girl who’d been taken by a killer. It was somehow claustrophobic. It was also frustrating. I couldn’t get a decent look at any of the customer’s faces. The angle of that camera was wrong. I’d seen money change hands, and tips go into jars, and one of the employees, skimming off the top. He would choose two transactions a day, maybe three, fake a settlement but pocket the money. But other than petty thieves, lousy tippers, and caffeine freaks, the footage had yielded nothing useful.

  Jacob suddenly catapulted from my desk. “Time to get going, Salmon—a.k.a. Harry. You and I are back at Pain-Free. I want to cross-reference their list of patrons with the faculty members at Flushing high school, which we’ll then cross-reference with the nursery and coffee shop.”

  I frowned up at him. “Sounds complicated.”

  “Not really complicated, just tedious. But it’s better than what you’ll be doing.”

  “No shit.” Gil peered at Jacob. “Want company?”

  “Hell no,” I snapped. “Your butt’s staying here. There are hundreds of hours of feed in these files. I’ll be damned if you’re not taking half of them.”

  Chapter 38

  The Shadow Man

  He fell to his knees, head bent low between his legs. The urge to vomit was overpowering, intense, like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Saliva flooded his mouth as he fought it. This discovery was beyond comprehension. It was something he hadn’t dreamed he was capable of doing. The depravity of it, the wickedness; evil flashed ugly teeth in this place, and the gleam of its smile was demonic.

  He somehow managed to keep his coffee down, but couldn’t prevent his body from shaking. His hands were t
rembling. His eyes were watering. He’d lost his keys somewhere in the grass. This wasn’t a case of the morning DTs; he was all too familiar with those. This was different. This was deep-in-the-pit-of-your-stomach, turn-your-black-hair-gray fear, crippling in its intensity.

  He slid his hands through the grass, his body now prone to the ground, and breathed. It had begun to rain again. He was lying in mud. The soil was a rich earthen scent in his nose.

  Good, he thought. I belong in the mud. I belong with the worms and the maggots. I belong in the place where I buried all of them.

  The grass that cradled his cheek was cool, and he stared at droplets of water on the blades.

  Don’t look at it again, he said to himself. Get up. Leave now. Get out of this place. You can decide what to do when you pull yourself together.

  But what would that be? What would he do? Was he able to pull himself together? Or should he check himself into a loony bin? Cast himself over the side of a tall building? He pushed himself up to his hands and knees. Despite his fear, he was a curious cat. He had to look. It was impossible not to. He deserved far worse for what he had done. He should let those images sear his eyelids; burn deep into his brain, for the rest of his life. And even that, he thought, was a piss-poor penance.