“Montgomery isn’t a bad sort. How long will Mason and Hilary be in Finland?”
“Another week. They wanted to introduce Zoe to all the Finnish relatives.” Hilary was Anu’s daughter and part of the family, especially since she’d adopted Kade’s niece.
She navigated to the geocaching site. “There are comments posted about today’s site.” She clicked the comment link and checked the time stamp. “It was just added tonight. ‘The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.’”
“That’s familiar; look it up.” He leaned toward the computer.
Bree typed in the beginning of the sentence. “It’s from Jeremiah.”
“The Bible, New Age mumbo jumbo. Our guy reads from a variety of sources. Seems odd.”
She bent over the keyboard again. “Let’s see if there are any other geocache murder sites in the past few years.” Before she could type in her search, the doorbell rang, and she heard Elena in the hallway.
Bree stood and grabbed Kade’s hand to lead him out of the office. “I don’t want Elena to see this article. She’s already freaked.”
They met Elena in the hall, and all three of them went to the living room.
“I’ll get the door,” Kade said. He stepped to the foyer and returned a few moments later with a young man in tow. Bree recognized him as the man who’d seen her and Elena jogging a couple of weeks ago.
About thirty, the man wore a smile as relaxed as his jeans. His movements suggested a gracefulness she wasn’t used to seeing in a man. His gaze shot past Bree and landed on Elena. “I’m so glad I found you.”
Elena took a step backward. “Do I know you?”
His smile faltered. “It’s me. Will.” His gaze darted to Bree. “What have you done to her?”
Elena swayed and grabbed the back of a nearby chair.
“You’ve been missing for months, girl. I saw a picture in the paper. You were in the background, but I was sure it was you. I showed someone at the coffee shop your picture, and they told me you were staying here. What are you doing going under an assumed name?”
Elena swayed again, then her knees buckled. Kade leaped to catch her, but he wasn’t fast enough and she crumpled to the rug.
11
The small building didn’t look like a church. Gideon got out of his car and looked around the tiny valley surrounded by a white pine forest. It had been all he could do to squeeze his vehicle through the tree trunks that choked the lane to the compound. He could hear the twang of guitars and the thump of drums.
A young woman got out of a small car and approached the weathered blue building. The fading sunlight struck her, and he realized she was pregnant. Very pregnant. He clicked his tongue. She was much too young to be anything but an unwed mother. Certainly she was no older than Odette. Immorality ran rampant in the world, even in this group he had started. What he saw in front of him proved perfection lay nowhere in this world.
He followed her inside the building. Incense burners intermingled with candles lined the walls. Folding chairs, beanbags, and webbed outdoor seating rather than pews furnished the room. Mostly young people, they wore jeans topped with T-shirts. One girl’s shirt read “Job’s Children: Accept Life’s Pain.”
He smiled as he slipped into a sagging patio chair and inhaled the thick scent of patchouli. A few saw him and waved. A hum of excited whispers rose.
Their leader had come home.
THE DISCOVERY OF YET ANOTHER BODY AFTER Gideon’s alleged death ignited a media firestorm. New theories and speculations about the serial killer, the dead women, and the cop’s missing wife—ex-wife, Nick reminded himself—dominated the local news and even made a few national headlines. A flood of sympathetic well-wishers, total strangers, sent their hope and prayers to Nick. Nasty messages from the criminal element poured in too. Taunting e-mails that twisted the knife.
He rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. The past weekend’s murder looked to be a mob hit, clean and direct. Gideon tortured his victims, and he clearly preferred women. The man had been identified as Billy DeAngelo, a known drug dealer.
Gideon would make a slip sometime, and when he did, Nick would have him.
Nick flipped open the Gideon file and began to review the remarks the killer posted on the Web. They’d identified the woman found in the pond as Sophie Tallmadge, an exotic dancer known for her graceful—and sensual—moves. So far he hadn’t been able to connect her to Eve. And even though they’d kept Sophie’s identification out of the media, Gideon had fallen silent about her.
Why no new clues attached to Eve’s remains? Did Gideon think the call while Nick was at Eve’s house was enough?
His head throbbed from too much caffeine and too little sleep. He should probably eat something other than donuts and coffee.
The door to Nick’s office opened, and Fraser stepped in. He came toward the desk with a paper in his hand. “Deputies found bones at a geocaching site in Rock Harbor.”
“You think it’s another Gideon murder?”
Fraser nodded. “Looks like our guy is taunting us.”
“That was fast. It’s been less than a week since we stumbled onto the Crandall woman.” The woman he’d found on his geocaching jaunt had been identified right away. Yvette Crandall, another blonde dancer. Nick closed the folder. “Did he leave a clue for this one?”
“Yep,” Fraser said, holding out the paper.
Nick’s muscles clenched at the somber expression on his partner’s face. He took the paper and scanned it. “‘The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.’” He rubbed his eyes. “A verse, just like the others. This has to be him. Who is it?”
“No identification yet. According to preliminary results, the bones are about five years dead. Coroner thinks maybe the heart was dug out with a knife. There are nicks on the breastbone. No doubt about this one. It’s Gideon’s MO.”
Nick flipped open the Gideon file again. “I showed you this before, and I think it means something.” He passed over the passage from Proverbs he’d found.
Fraser took it, and Nick watched his partner read it. “What do you think?” he asked.
Fraser handed it back. “You might be right, Nick. We’ve got missing eyes, tongue, hands, and maybe heart so far. He finds some woman who he thinks committed one of these abominations and wastes her.”
Nick tossed the folder onto the desk. “For all the good it does us. And what was Eve’s sin?”
Fraser didn’t answer.
“He seems to be following the order of this passage.”
“Maybe. I don’t know about the tongue though. Eve had the same verse attached to her as to the Tallmadge woman.”
Nick opened his desk drawer and pulled out a Michigan map. “Rock Harbor. Where the heck is that?” He scanned the map and whistled softly through his teeth. “That’s in the UP.” He looked up at Fraser.
Fraser dropped into a chair. “This could be our break—a murder this old and he’s only now revealing it. He’s getting bold. Your dad thinks we should get up to Rock Harbor and check it out.”
Nick stood and grabbed his sport jacket from the back of his chair. “Let’s go now.” He stopped in the doorway. “Wait, when was this posted?”
“Saturday night, and the body was found yesterday.”
“If we could only figure out his motive. He’s a missionary killer, but what triggers him? And why blonde dancers?”
Fraser shrugged. “They all have a similar look—slim and elegant with great bone structure,” Fraser said. “Eve fit that profile. If we knew where he first saw her, we might be able to figure out who he is and why he killed her.”
Nick picked up the picture of Eve. “All the victims so far were ballerinas at some point. I think he saw Eve at the ballet.”
“In New York? You realize how hard it would be to narrow that field? Thousands of people saw her perform.”
Watching her glide across the stage as if she had wings had been the most beautiful thing he’d
ever seen. Nick’s throat clenched.
He nodded, then grabbed up the files and stuffed them in his briefcase. “Do we have airline tickets?”
“I had Marge check airlines and times. There isn’t another one until middle of the afternoon, and the trip is nearly five hours with the layover in Minneapolis. So nine hours away. You might as well drive. You’d get there about the same time, and at least you’d have your car.”
“Aren’t you coming?”
Fraser shook his head. “I can’t go until later this week. My daughter has a dance recital tonight, and Gail’s got a short business trip. I’m on Dad Duty. I’ll drive up first thing I can.”
“If I’d been smart enough to put my family first, they might still be alive,” Nick said. He didn’t wait for an answer, since there was none.
He drove home in a fugue of memory. Walking to the front door of his miniscule apartment, he couldn’t help his thoughts from wandering to how it used to be. Eve greeting him at the door with a smile. Keri running to meet him. This apartment felt cold and sterile, devoid of memories or life. No plants. Eve loved plants and flowers. Their house had been filled with them.
At least the bedroom looked lived in, since he came home long enough to sleep. He dragged the suitcase off the closet shelf and began to stuff his clothes and toiletries into it. By ten, he was back in his Dodge Durango and heading out of town.
He took I-75 north, barely noticing the names of the towns he passed as the big tires on his SUV ate up the miles: West Branch, Grayling, Wolverine. Only after he crossed the Mackinac Bridge and turned onto Highway 2 at St. Ignace did he manage to tear his thoughts away from the past.
And he remembered he needed help. He pulled out his phone and called Oliver. “Hey, buddy, I’ve got another one.”
“Problems, Nicky?”
“Yeah. Bones found in the UP. I need them identified pronto. You free?”
“Whereabouts in the UP? I have a cabin up near Ontonagon and was planning on going up for some fishing anyway. I was just heading there today, actually.”
“Rock Harbor.”
He gave his customary ho-ho laugh. “Ah, about thirty miles from my fishing hole. Let me get settled, and I’ll come over and take a look. Just let me get some fishing in too.”
“Thanks, Oliver, I owe you.” He ended the call and concentrated on his driving.
There was hardly anything up here. He passed mile after mile of beautiful but desolate scenery and villages barely big enough to slow down for. At Rapid River he turned onto 41 and drove to Marquette, where he stopped to eat. The café waitress recommended something called a pasty—pronounced like nasty—and he was surprised to find the meat pie much more delicious than it sounded.
Still wiping his mouth from lunch, he got back in his truck and headed west until he reached 38. Rock Harbor wouldn’t be far now. The sun, low on the horizon, glared in his eyes. Eve would have loved this area. She had loved beauty wherever she could find it.
It was after nine by the time he reached the Rock Harbor city limits. Twilight lit the Victorian buildings with golden light. He drove through a town that could have been the model for a Currier and Ives drawing that hung in their dining room. Totally charming. The street he was on changed to Negaunee, and he saw the twinkle of a lighthouse in the distance.
The glimmer of Lake Superior attracted his gaze. He’d never seen it before today. The Ojibwa called it Kitchigami, which meant “giver of life.” He could only wish the magical Great Lake would give him a new lease on his future.
A cold wind blew through his open window, but it wasn’t nearly as cold as the look in Eve’s eyes the last time he’d seen her.
He parked in front of the sheriff’s office. The big stone building seemed out of place among the more elegant storefronts. He stepped inside onto a tile floor and almost ran into a man about forty with brown hair and eyes. “Sorry.”
The other man nodded and exited the building. A big blond guy pulled his feet from off a battered desk and turned to face him. His blue eyes looked Nick up and down as if to ask what right he had to come in here.
Nick flipped out his badge. “Captain Nikos Andreakos, Michigan State Police, violent crimes unit.”
The man stood, and the challenging expression disappeared. “Deputy Doug Montgomery.”
Nick quickly labeled him Deputy Dawg. He looked like the hound in the old cartoon, too, heavy jowls, sleepy eyes. If Nick remembered right, he even had an old comic with the good deputy in it.
Hiding his smile, he tried to pay attention to the deputy. “Is the sheriff in tonight?”
“He’s out of the country right now. I’m in charge. You’re here about the murder, eh? Have a seat, and I’ll get you some coffee. You moved fast after my request for help.”
The guy’s accent must be the Yooper one he’d heard about. When the deputy returned with a steaming cup of coffee, Nick nodded his thanks. “Can you clue me in?”
“Not much to clue in. Bones found in the forest. Female. That’s all we know. A hunter or two missing in the last five or six years, but no one to match her with.”
“I’ve got some help coming up tomorrow. A forensic sculptor.”
Montgomery’s forehead creased. “Forensic sculptor, eh?”
“He takes casts of remains and adds a layer of clay to simulate flesh and skin so we can put out a picture to the media for identification. We need to nail down the identity ASAP.”
“You’re thinking the perp will do it again, eh?”
“This is the fourth that I know of.”
Montgomery’s expression sobered. “Serial killer?”
Nick nodded. “Goes by Gideon. Leaves bodies at geocaching sites. You heard of him?”
“If it doesn’t affect us, we don’t pay much attention.”
Nick grunted. He could only hope the man wouldn’t get in his way. “Any evidence at the scene?”
“Clean as the big lake. Not a hair, not a print. We found some mumbo jumbo on the geocaching site, but you probably know all about that.” Doug waited until Nick nodded. “You sure it’s the same guy?”
“Yeah.” Nick put his hands in his pocket and moved to the wall map without answering. “Show me where the body was found.”
The deputy joined him and pointed a finger big as a sausage at a point on the map. “Right there.”
“Who found the body?”
“Two women out doing the geocaching thing. Bree Matthews and Elena Cox.”
“How can I get in touch with them? I’d like to interview them about what they saw.”
“They live at the lighthouse on the outskirts of town. Pretty place.”
Nick nodded. “I saw it. I’ll head out there now.”
ELENA’S HEAD STILL SWAM EVEN THOUGH SHE was lying on the bed. She needed to talk to the man who claimed to know her. Yesterday, when she’d recovered from her faint, she had rushed to her room to be alone. His deep voice had resonated up the stairway and through her door, but she couldn’t summon the strength to go talk to him. She fell asleep quickly and then spent most of the next day in her room.
He’d asked why she was using an assumed name. To find she’d been wrong about all she thought she knew made her feel she was swimming over a bottomless pit. What else might she discover when she talked to him?
If only she could pull back the blanket that smothered her memories. Every time she tried to tug away a corner of the blackness, she found nothing but mist. She fingered the small scar on her temple. The cut on her rib had been made by a knife, the doctor had said. Was Terri’s father the man in her nightmares? Was Will? She shuddered and dropped her hand.
She had to know. Going on like this any longer wasn’t an option.
She decided to face her past and left the room to talk with Bree. The CD player was blaring out Elvis music as she passed Davy’s room, and she saw him and Terri dancing with the dog. Samson pranced around the floor with his tail high. The kitten swatted at their feet as they moved past her.
> How could she recognize Elvis’s voice but not remember her own daughter’s birth? It made no sense. She could drive a car, make spaghetti, put on her makeup, remember every ballet movement—a million things that required memory. But she had no idea what she felt for her husband, no clue if she had parents, siblings. No idea of the job she did before Bree found her.
She walked slowly downstairs.
In the living room, Bree glanced up. “You okay?”
Elena sighed. “I’m sorry to bail on you today. Thanks for taking care of Terri.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Bree patted the sofa cushion next to her. Elena sat down.
“Did he tell you who I was?”
Bree shook her head. “I asked, but he said if you were hiding something, he wasn’t going to squeal without your permission.”
“I’m not hiding anything. I don’t remember!”
“I know. That’s what I told him, but he was adamant. He left his address. I guess he doesn’t have a phone.”
Elena took the scrap of paper. A highway and building number were scrawled beneath the words Job’s Children. “What’s Job’s Children?” she asked.
Bree frowned. “I’m not exactly sure. It’s a community of sorts not far from here. But they’re new, and no one I asked seems to know much about them. They keep to themselves.”
Elena hadn’t come this far to turn back now. If there was some way to discover who she was, she intended to find out tonight. “Can I use the computer a minute?”
“Sure. That’s a great idea.” Bree came toward her. “I started to look up stuff the other day but got interrupted. We have more information now. Let’s see what we can find out about you. Maybe there’s something in the news.”
Elena’s steps lagged. The lost memory felt like a monster swimming below the great waves out on Superior. Just waiting to swallow her up.
“What’s wrong?” Bree asked.
“What if it’s really bad?”
“You can’t fight something you don’t know,” Bree said, her fingers taking Elena’s elbow. “You showed up here, battered and injured. Now we have a dead body. I don’t want you to be the next one killed. We have to understand what we’re dealing with.” She steered Elena to the office and sat her down at the computer.
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