“You mean other than both women were single, attractive, successful and pretty much hated by everyone who came into contact with them?”
“A lot of successful women are hated,” Will said, realizing the moment that the words came out of his mouth that he sounded like a sexist pig. “I mean, a lot of men feel threatened by—”
“I get it, Will. People don’t like successful women.” She added ruefully, “Sometimes other women are worse than men.”
He knew that she was probably thinking about Amanda. “Maybe that’s what’s motivating our killer. He’s angry that these women are successful and they don’t need men in their lives.”
Faith crossed her arms, obviously considering the angles. “Here’s the trick: He’s picked two women who won’t be missed, Anna and Jackie Zabel. Actually, three women, if you count Pauline McGhee.”
“She’s got long dark hair and brown eyes like the other two victims. Usually, these guys like a pattern, a certain type.”
“Jackie Zabel’s successful. You said Anna was well put together. McGhee drives a Lexus and had a kid on her own, which, take it from me, is not easy.” She was silent for a beat, and he wondered if she was thinking about Jeremy. Faith didn’t give him time to ask. “It’s one thing to kill prostitutes—you’ve got to go through at least four or five before anyone notices. He’s targeting women who have real power in the world. So we can assume he’s been watching them.”
Will hadn’t considered that, but she was probably right.
Faith continued, “Maybe he thinks of it as part of the hunt—doing reconnaissance on them, finding out about their lives. He stalks them, then he takes them.”
“So, what are we talking about here—a guy who works for a woman he’s not particularly fond of? A loner who felt abandoned by his mother? A cuckold?” Will stopped trying to profile their suspect, thinking the characteristics were a little too close to home.
“It can be anyone,” Faith said. “That’s the problem—it can be anyone.”
Will felt the frustration he heard in her voice. They both knew that the case was reaching a critical point. Stranger abductions were the hardest crimes to solve. The victims were usually randomly chosen, the abductor a practiced hunter who knew how to cover his tracks. It was sheer luck finding the cave last night, but Will had to hope that the kidnapper was getting sloppy; two of his victims had escaped. He might be feeling desperate, off his game. Luck had to be on their side, if they were going to catch him.
Will tucked his phone back into his pocket. They were less than twelve hours out and close to hitting a brick wall. Unless Anna woke up, unless Felix could offer them a solid lead or one of the crime scenes revealed a clue they could follow up on, they were still solidly on square one with nothing to do but wait until another body showed up.
Faith was obviously considering the same problems. “He would need another place to hold a new victim.”
“I doubt it’s another cave,” Will said. “It would’ve been pretty hard to dig. I nearly killed myself digging the hole for that pond I put in my backyard last summer.”
“You have a pond in your backyard?”
“Koi,” he provided. “It took me two full weekends.”
She was silent for a few beats, as if she was considering his pond. “Maybe our suspect might have had help digging the cave.”
“Serial killers usually work alone.”
“What about those two guys in California?”
“Charles Ng and Leonard Lake.” Will knew about the case, mostly because it was one of the lengthiest and most expensive in California’s history. Lake and Ng had built a cinderblock bunker in the hills, fitting the chamber with various torture devices and other implements to help them act out their sick fantasies. Both men had filmed themselves taking turns with the victims—men, women and children, some whom had never been identified.
Faith continued, “The Hillside Stranglers worked together, too.”
The two cousins had hunted women on the margins, prostitutes and runaways.
Will said, “They had a fake police badge. That’s how they got the women to trust them.”
“I don’t even want to consider the possibility.”
Will felt the same way, but it was something to keep in mind. Jackie Zabel’s BMW was missing. The woman at City Foods this morning had been abducted right beside her car. Someone posing as a police officer could have easily fabricated a scenario to approach their vehicles.
Will said, “Charlie didn’t find evidence of two different attackers being in the cave.” He had to add, “Then again, he wasn’t exactly eager to stay down there any longer than he had to.”
“What was your impression when you were down there?”
“That I needed to get out of there before I had a heart attack,” Will admitted, feeling the rat scratches on his arms start itching again. “It’s not the kind of place you want to linger.”
“We’ll look at the photos. Maybe there’s something you and Charlie didn’t see in the heat of the moment.”
Will knew that this was a distinct possibility. The photos of the cave would probably be on his desk by the time they got back to the office. They could examine the scene at leisure, the claustrophobia of the surroundings kept safely at arm’s length.
“Two victims, Anna and Jackie. Maybe two abductors?” Faith made the next connection. “If that’s their pattern, and Pauline McGhee is another victim, then they need a second victim.”
“Hey,” Leo called, waving them back. He stood at a door with a large sign on it.
“ ‘Doctors’ Lounge,’ ” Faith read, a habit she’d gotten into that Will both loathed and appreciated in unequal parts.
“Good luck,” Leo said, patting Will on the shoulder.
Faith asked, “You’re leaving?”
“The doc just handed me my ass on a platter.” Leo did not look particularly bothered by the fact. “You guys can talk to the kid, but unless this breaks toward your case, I need you to stay away.”
Will was slightly surprised by his words. Leo had always been more than happy to let other people do his work.
The detective said, “Trust me, I’d love to hand this over to you, but I got my bosses breathing down my neck. They’re looking for any reason to kick me. I’ll need a solid connection before I send this up the chain to get y’all on the case, all right?”
“We’ll make sure you’re covered,” Faith promised. “Can you still keep a lookout for us on missing persons? White, midthirties, dark brown hair, successful, but not someone who’s got a lot of friends who will miss her.”
“Brown and bitchy.” He gave her a wink. “What else I gotta do except gumshoe your case?” He seemed okay with it. “I’ll be at the City Foods if anything comes up. You’ve got my numbers.”
Will watched him go, asking, “Why are they pushing Leo out? I mean, other than the obvious reasons.”
Faith had been Leo’s partner for a few years, and Will could see her struggling with the desire to defend him. Finally, Faith said, “He’s at the top of his pay scale. It’s cheaper to have some fresh-faced kid just off patrol doing his job for half the pay. Plus, if Leo takes early retirement, he leaves twenty percent of his pension on the table. Throw in the medical, and it gets even more expensive to keep him around. The bosses look at that kind of thing when they’re doing their budgets.”
Faith was about to open the door, but stopped when her cell phone started ringing. She checked the caller ID and told Will, “Jackie’s sister.” She answered the phone, nodding for Will to go ahead without her.
Will’s hand was sweating when he pressed his palm to the wooden door. His heart did something weird—almost a double beat—that he put down to lack of sleep and too much hot chocolate this morning. Then he saw Sara Linton, and it did it again.
She was sitting in a chair by the window, holding Felix McGhee in her lap. The boy was almost too big to be held, but Sara seemed to be managing it well. One arm was wrapped around
his waist, the other around his shoulders. She used her hand to stroke his hair as she whispered sounds of comfort in his ear.
Sara had looked up when Will entered the room, but didn’t let his presence disturb the scene. Felix stared blankly out the window, his lips slightly parted. Sara nodded toward a chair opposite, and Will guessed from the fact that it was less than six inches from Sara’s knee that Leo had been sitting there. He pulled the chair back a few feet and sat down.
“Felix.” Sara’s voice calm and in control, the same tone she had used with Anna the night before. “This is Agent Trent. He’s a policeman, and he’s going to help you.”
Felix kept staring out the window. The room was cool, but Will could see the boy’s hair was damp with perspiration. A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek, and Will took out his handkerchief to wipe it away. When he looked back at Sara, she was staring at him as if he’d pulled a rabbit out of his pocket.
“Old habit,” Will mumbled, embarrassed as he folded the cloth in two. He had been made well aware over the years that only old men and dandies carried handkerchiefs, but all the boys at the Atlanta Children’s Home had been made to carry them, and Will felt naked without one.
Sara shook her head, as if to say she didn’t mind. Her lips pressed to the top of Felix’s head. The child didn’t move, but Will had seen his eyes dart to the side, checking out Will, trying to see what he was doing.
“What’s this?” Will asked, noticing a book bag beside Sara’s chair. He guessed from the cartoon characters and bright colors that the bag belonged to Felix. Will slid it toward him and opened the zip, brushing away stray pieces of colored confetti as he explored the contents.
Leo would’ve already gone through everything in the bag, but Will took out each item as if he was carefully examining it for clues. “Nice pencils.” He held up a packet of colored pencils. The packaging was black, not the kind of thing you usually saw on children’s items. “These are for grown-ups. You must be a very good artist.”
Will didn’t expect a response, and Felix didn’t give one, but the boy’s eyes were watching carefully now, as if he wanted to make sure Will didn’t take anything from his bag.
Next, Will opened up a folder. There was an ornate crest on the front, probably from Felix’s private school. Official-looking documents from the school were in one pocket. What looked like Felix’s homework was in the other. Will couldn’t make out the school memos, but he could tell from the double-lined paper on the homework side that Felix was learning how to write on a straight line.
He showed this to Sara. “His letters are pretty good.”
“They are,” Sara agreed. She was watching Will as carefully as Felix was, and Will had to put her out of his mind so he didn’t forget how to do his job. She was too beautiful, and too smart, and too much of everything Will was not.
He put the folder back in the book bag and pulled out three slim books. Even Will could make out the first three letters of the alphabet that adorned the jacket of the first book. The other two were a mystery to him, and he held them up to Felix, saying, “I wonder what these are about?” When Felix didn’t answer, Will looked back at the jackets, squinting at the images. “I guess this pig works at a restaurant, because he’s serving people pancakes.” Will looked at the next book. “And this mouse is sitting in a lunchbox. I guess somebody’s going to eat him for lunch.”
“No.” Felix spoke so quietly that Will wasn’t sure the boy had said anything at all.
“No?” Will asked, looking back at the mouse. The great thing about being around kids was you could be absolutely honest and they thought you were just teasing them. “I can’t read very well. What does this say?”
Felix shifted, and Sara helped him turn toward Will. The child reached for the books. Instead of answering, Felix held the books close to his chest. His lip started to tremble, and Will guessed, “Your mom reads to you, doesn’t she?”
He nodded, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks.
Will leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I want to find your mommy.”
Felix swallowed, as if he was trying to choke down his grief. “The big man took her.”
Will knew that to a kid, all adults were big. He sat up straight, asking, “As big as me?”
Felix really looked at Will for the first time since he’d walked into the room. He seemed to consider the question, then shook his head.
“What about the detective who was just in here—the stinky one? Was the man as tall as him?”
Felix nodded.
Will tried to keep the pace slow, casual, so Felix would keep answering the questions without feeling like he was being interrogated. “Did he have hair like mine, or was it darker?”
“Darker.”
Will nodded, scratching his chin as if he was deliberating possibilities. Kids were notoriously unreliable witnesses. They either wanted to please the adults who questioned them or they were so open to suggestion that you could pretty much plant any idea in their heads and have them swear that it actually happened.
Will asked, “What about his face? Did he have hair on his face? Or was it smooth like mine?”
“He had a mustache.”
“Did he speak to you?”
“He told me that my mommy said to stay in the car.”
Will treaded carefully. “Was he wearing a uniform like a janitor or a fireman or a police officer?”
Felix shook his head. “Just normal clothes.”
Will felt a rush of heat to his face. He knew Sara was staring at him. Her husband had been a cop. She wouldn’t like the implication.
Will asked, “What color were his clothes?”
Felix shrugged, and Will wondered if the boy was finished answering questions or if he really didn’t remember.
Felix picked at the edge of his book. “He wore a suit like Morgan.”
“Morgan is a friend of your mommy’s?”
He nodded. “He’s at her work, but she’s mad at him because he’s lying and he’s trying to get her into trouble, but she’s not going to let him get away with it because of the safe.”
Will wondered if Felix had overheard some phone calls or if Pauline McGhee was the type of woman to vent her problems to a six-year-old boy. “Do you remember anything else about the man who took your mommy?”
“He said he would hurt me if I told anybody about him.”
Will kept his face blank, as did Felix. “You’re not scared of the man,” he said, not a question but a statement.
“My mommy says that she’ll never let anybody hurt me.”
He seemed so sure of himself that Will couldn’t help but feel a great deal of respect for Pauline McGhee’s parenting skills. Will had interviewed a lot of children in his time, and while most of them loved their parents, not many of them exhibited this kind of blind trust.
Will said, “She’s right. No one is going to hurt you.”
“My mommy will protect me,” Felix insisted, and Will started to wonder about his certainty. You usually didn’t reassure a kid of something unless there was a real fear you were trying to combat.
Will asked, “Was your mom worried that someone might hurt you?”
Felix picked at the book jacket again. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.
Will waited, trying not to rush his next question. “Who was she afraid of, Felix?”
He spoke quietly, his voice little more than a whisper. “Her brother.”
A brother. This could be some kind of family dispute after all. Will asked, “Did she tell you his name?”
He shook his head. “I never met him, but he was bad.”
Will stared at the boy, wondering how to phrase his next question. “Bad how?”
“Mean,” Felix said. “She said he was mean, and that she would protect me from him because she loves me more than anybody in the world.” There was a finality to his tone, as if that was all he was willing to say on the matter. “Can I go home now?”
Will would’
ve preferred a knife to his chest rather than have to answer this question. He glanced at Sara for support, and she took over, saying, “Remember that lady you met earlier? Miss Nancy?”
Felix nodded.
“She’s going to find someone to take care of you until your mom comes to get you.”
The boy’s eyes filled with tears. Will couldn’t blame him. Miss Nancy was probably from social services. She would be a far cry from the women at Felix’s private school and his mother’s well-heeled friends.
He said, “But I want to go home.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Sara soothed. “But if you go home, you’ll be all alone. We need to make sure that you’re safe until your mom comes to get you.”
He didn’t seem convinced.
Will got down on one knee so that he was face-to-face with the boy. He wrapped his hand around Felix’s shoulder, his fingers accidentally brushing Sara’s arm in the process. Will felt a lump rise in his throat, and he had to swallow before he could speak. “Look at me, Felix.” He waited until the child complied. “I’m going to make sure your mom comes back to you, but I need you to be brave for me while I’m working to make that happen.”
Felix’s face was so open and trusting that it was painful to look at him. “How long will it take?” There was a wobble in his voice as he asked the question.
“Maybe a week at the most,” Will said, fighting the urge to break eye contact. If Pauline McGhee was gone longer than a week, she would be dead, and Felix would be an orphan. “Can you give me a week?”
The boy kept staring at Will as if to judge whether or not he was being told the truth. Finally, he nodded.
“All right,” Will said, feeling as if an anvil had been placed on his chest. He saw that Faith was sitting in a chair by the door and wondered when she had come into the room. She stood, nodding for him to follow her outside. Will patted Felix on the leg before joining Faith in the hallway.
The Will Trent Series 7-Book Bundle Page 94