Evie turned pages in her pad. “Andrew was tipped off by a friend in Indiana that cops were at his house looking for him, were asking about Virginia Fawn. That came from his phone texts. You want an answer for why this ended so dark, I’m guessing that’s the reason. He wasn’t going to get arrested for the girls’ murders.”
“Go on,” he said.
“All three vehicles were stolen in the hour prior to the gate breach. Chicago cops have the driver of the dump truck in custody—one of Andrew’s friends from his detention days. They’re still looking for the other two. According to the friend in custody, a Tom Stanford, Andrew showed up just after five p.m. with an address and the idea of ramming the gate to get onto the property. He says they went along with the scheme because they were bored. They were in the middle of stealing the vehicles when Andrew, quote, ‘got weird on them, angry about something on his phone.’ The timing matches his getting tipped off about the Indiana cops.
“He changed plans, told the others not to come back for him, he’d leave his car nearby and walk away after he had photos of the evening’s adventure. That’s how he was referring to this—‘the evening’s adventure.’ He sent a rather cryptic text to his mother minutes before the gate was breached that could be read as a farewell. Chicago cops found the assistant hairdresser, Tina Newel, unconscious in the trunk of her car and with three broken fingers. Andrew would have gotten Maggie’s address from her.”
“Still alive?” David asked, surprised.
“Yes. It looks like he tried to smother her with a towel. He may have gotten interrupted or was in a hurry, but he didn’t finish the job. She’s in serious but stable condition, has a good chance of pulling through.”
“Thanks for that blessing, God,” David said quietly. Then to Evie, “Okay, what else?”
“They’re serving the warrant on his home in Indiana in about ten minutes. They’ve held off while this side sorted itself out, didn’t want to walk into a possibly booby-trapped house if weapons or explosives were used here. If you want to see live video, the FBI can link us in.”
He was tired enough that he didn’t particularly care if he saw it or just read the report, but he had a feeling Evie wouldn’t watch it unless he did also. They still didn’t have evidence on connections to Jenna’s death. They needed that house to yield useful information so Evie’s case could move beyond simply reasoned speculation. “I’ll watch it with you.”
David heard footsteps on the stairs and glanced over as Charlotte Bishop came up to join them, carrying a large mug of the tea she favored. “I can sit with her, David. I promise, she won’t wake up alone in a strange house.” Her two golden Irish Setters had trailed behind her and now sat politely on either side, each studying him with solemn eyes.
Maggie would be in safe hands. “I’d appreciate it, Charlotte. An hour or so should clear away much of what I need to finish up.”
“I’ll text you when she wakes. Until then, go get the answers she’ll want to hear. The more of her questions you can respond to when she asks them, the easier this will be.”
David accepted the wisdom in her words. “Thanks again, Charlotte.” He nodded toward the stairs, and Evie led the way down.
“How bad is the press situation?” he asked.
Evie stepped into the living room, picked up the remote, and turned on the national cable news channel.
David winced. “Aerial shots? Really?”
“They went live about two hours ago. The world now knows where Margaret May McDonald lives.” Evie left the commentary on mute. They knew far better than the anchorperson what had happened.
The three vehicles and the break-in through the stone wall and gate looked even more catastrophic from the air. Andrew had managed to get within feet of the garage with his truck, circled around the house on foot, and shattered the patio door to gain entry. “What’s the elapsed time?”
“Two minutes, seven seconds from first impact to the patio door breaking. Figure another thirty seconds to cross the living room, run up the stairs and to the master bedroom. I’m glad Maggie didn’t hesitate.”
“That’s the one thing Maggie promised me—she’d act first, accept looking silly if it was a false alarm.”
“I’m sorry she’s losing such a beautiful place to live. John’s still at the scene. He says things are slowing down with all the media underfoot. The medical examiner wants to do more review before the body’s moved. It’s going to be dawn before they haul away the vehicles. John’s mostly negotiating the evidence—her phone gets looked at there, then returned to her, that kind of thing. He said to tell you Sam is outside here, will be wherever Maggie is until you say otherwise.”
“If I can’t have John himself, Sam’s the guy I want. Thanks. I appreciate you playing messenger on the details. Where are we going to watch this video of the warrant being served on his property?”
“There’s a secure laptop set up on the kitchen table.” David turned that direction.
Charlotte’s husband was dumping ice into a freshly brewed pitcher of tea. He glanced over as they entered. “Eat something,” Bryce said.
There were fresh hamburger buns out, deli turkey, bologna, shaved ham, lettuce, American and Swiss cheese slices, mayonnaise. Any of that would do. David stacked himself a sandwich.
Bryce poured Evie a glass of the tea. “I’ll be in my office if you need anything. David, the bedroom next to Maggie’s has been made up for you. Give Gary your hotel room key. He’ll pack your things, bring them over. Maggie is going to stay here with less fuss if you tell her this is where you’re going to be too. The press can’t bother either of you here.”
“I appreciate that more than you know.”
Bryce smiled. “We’ll enjoy the company—I’m just sorry it’s under these circumstances.”
Evie brought up the video feed.
David pulled out the seat beside her and prepared to see what Andrew Timmets had left behind. It looked like four officers were doing the search, two with Indiana PD and two with the FBI. The video was being transmitted via the shoulder camera of a member of the FBI team. The audio was much like listening to a conversation on speakerphone, some voices clear and almost too loud, others hollowed out and difficult to understand.
The four first walked down a narrow hallway and took a left into the garage. Lights turned on to reveal two vans—a locksmith vehicle with business logo on the side, the other a plain white panel van. “That answers one question,” Evie said softly.
The white panel van looked clean inside, hand-vac marks still present in the direction of the carpet fabric. “Forensics will have a challenge, but maybe something is there,” David offered.
The van was closed up and left for the crime lab to deal with. The four officers conferred and split up, one remaining to search the garage, one heading downstairs, another to the bedrooms, the last one to find any office area Andrew maintained.
David pulled off some blank sheets from Evie’s notepad and began writing an official statement on events for the record.
An hour later, Evie laid a hand on his arm. David looked up to the video.
“We’ve found our smoking gun,” a voice said, the person not yet on camera. “Look at this.” The person shooting the video turned, and a figure came into view near a bed with a tall headboard. The cop was easing something out from behind it—a simple kitchen corkboard, a foot square, with a line of drivers’ licenses stapled to it. “This is being ID’d as exhibit seventeen, found tucked behind the headboard of the bed in the master bedroom.”
The board was shifted and held up to the camera, each license centered for a dozen seconds so that the image was captured into the permanent record.
“That’s Jenna’s driver’s license,” Evie whispered, her voice tight. “Tammy. Virginia. Emily. Laura. He’s claiming all five girls as his,” she continued. Beneath each license was a Triple M concert ticket stub.
David watched the screen in silence as the board was slowly scanned by t
he camera again before being carefully placed in a large evidence bag.
“Anything else back there?” they heard someone ask.
The officer pulled the bed away from the wall to shine a light behind the headboard. “Nothing else in this location.”
“Keep looking.”
The video went back to the dresser as drawers were removed and checked for something taped behind or under them.
“I’m honestly surprised,” David said. “We figured out the scope of his crimes without capturing him—that’s rare. There are usually entire caverns of truth you haven’t seen until you’re actually looking at and talking with the person responsible.”
“We still don’t know how he abducted Jenna that night, or where he buried her body.”
“He saved a few trophies. Maybe there’s a journal or sketchbook, a marked-up map as his own keepsake . . . something else? Or we just accept the fact that Jenna’s body will only be discovered when a curious dog or a backhoe crew locate the bones someday. We’ve seen any number of ways a gravesite gets opened up and made visible.”
“I’ll start taking your advice and pray about the problem in an actual faith-filled, God-will-answer-this kind of way,” Evie remarked.
David smiled and glanced at his watch—two a.m. Sunday morning. No wonder he was blitzed. “You need to find a place to crash for a few hours, Evie.”
“Rob is picking me up within the hour.”
“Yeah?”
“I canceled dinner and a movie last night with a text, telling him ‘the case is breaking open, sorry.’ I owed him further explanation, so about midnight I sent one that said Turn on TV. Rob likes my pithy conversation starters.”
David laughed, liking them too.
“He doesn’t want me driving this tired, and I wouldn’t mind twenty minutes with him just to put his mind at rest. His first reply was, David, Maggie, you, okay? I like his short and sweet notes too.” She stood and stretched her arms. “I never want to drive on ice, siren and lights blazing, ever again either. That was idiotically scary.”
He laughed once more. “I’m glad you were my wingman, Evie. We couldn’t do much but follow in the wake of everyone else, but it mattered that we saw this all put to bed tonight.”
“I’m sorry for the ending, that he’s dead and we can’t get all our questions answered, and that Maggie has to pay the highest price for everything. But I’m also stepping back enough to see the bigger picture. Only twelve days and we’ve run him to ground—it may be the best hit the task force does. It feels really nice.”
“That it does.” He looked at the video of officers finishing up at Andrew’s home. “That it does.”
Evie Blackwell
Evie slid into the passenger seat of Rob’s warm car just after 2:30 Sunday morning, feeling disoriented from fatigue and from all the cups of coffee she’d downed in the last few hours. Her day was finally wrapped. Time for the hotel and ten hours of sleep.
Rob clicked on the interior lights, and his hand covered hers. “Look at me for a moment.”
She did and found him studying her carefully.
“One dead, and you weren’t involved in that, David and Maggie are okay, your case is wrapping up. On the scale of endings, how’s this one?”
She appreciated his summary. “Compared to last fall and Carin County, this one’s more sad than satisfying.” She turned her hand to squeeze his. “I’m good, Rob, honestly. Most cases are like this. They end after finding the right name, catching the criminal—most of the time with an arrest rather than a call to the coroner—and then doing a lot of paperwork. That’s the job . . . although this one had more tangles and personal ties than you would expect by the time it concluded.”
“Your first case has made the national news.”
Evie laughed at the way he said it, for they had indeed made a splash on all the cable networks. “I am so glad I’m not Sharon having to deal with the press tonight. She’s welcome to that spotlight. Thanks for coming to give me a lift—this is nice.”
“You’re quite welcome.” Rob clicked off the interior lights and backed out of the Bishops’ driveway, lifted a hand to the security officer. “I wanted the pleasure of seeing you in person, and it doesn’t hurt to have the firsthand story when people start calling, beginning with business, but mostly wanting to turn the conversation toward you, David, and Maggie and the case on the front page of the paper. You’re making me famous merely by association since the charity event.”
Evie leaned back against the headrest, amused by the fact he was right—her world was bumping squarely into his by how the case played out in the papers and television newscasts and among his friends. “How much would you like to know?” she asked.
“Whatever you feel like telling me now. The rest can wait.”
She told him briefly about Andrew Timmets, those details that would already be on the news with the FBI’s statement, but mostly she told him about Lynne and Jim, the story behind the story.
“I’m not at all surprised to find you sympathetic toward the two who might have been your leading suspects,” Rob replied when she finished. “You’ve always liked the ones who’ve had the harder road to climb, and their relationship sounds as though it has potential to be something very special.”
“I liked them,” Evie said. “I would have arrested them for murder if they were guilty, but still been sad the case had turned their way.”
Traffic was light this time of night, and they would be at the hotel soon. Evie gathered her courage to ask Rob a question, knowing she was going to send into a tailspin what had been a comfortable conversation. “I’d like to ask you about something.”
“Ask away.”
“Ann said you smirked when I did the dramatic puppet conversation for kids at church after flight 174 crashed. Do you remember?”
Rob glanced over at her, looking stunned. “Is that how I got crosswise with your friend?”
“Did you? Do you remember the event?”
She saw an expression in the passing headlights that she’d never seen before, embarrassment certainly, but more than that.
“Evie, I do remember.” He ran a hand behind his neck. “Guilty as charged,” he added with a sigh, “but it wasn’t as it might have appeared. I was listening to you, thinking about how positively and clearly you were able to explain even tragic death to the kids, and what life after death was like. Then I jumped from that to a mental back-and-forth with my mother, if she’d been listening to the way you phrased it, and I remember thinking, Evie’s got you there, Mom, felt myself smirk, and instantly regretted the dishonorable way I’d just thought about my mother. The Holy Spirit nailed me when I smirked. It’s not something I’m going to easily forget. And Ann saw that?”
“It’s made a lasting impression on her. She thought you were dismissing what I said or how I said it. Add to that the vast differences in our work lives, our personal lives, and she’s always hesitated over whether we’re a good long-term fit.”
“Evie . . .” He glanced her way again. “I will be the first to admit that God is still working on me—in lots of areas, but particularly how I respond to my mother and some of her remarks. If I thought I’d ever be treating you the same way, Ann would have a very good point. But, trust me, God is correcting me on it now. You can count on Him for that, even if you’re not sure of me. I won’t ever be thinking disrespectful thoughts toward you, nor my mother in the present or future. I’m sorry for what Ann saw. But with God’s help, it won’t be happening again.”
“I believe you.” Evie smiled at her own memories. “I know what it’s like having that inner voice check you on something. It’s reassuring to hear your explanation, Rob, and that you’re close enough to God that He could get your attention. Thanks.”
“It’s an embarrassing memory—doubly so given that others witnessed it happen. But the problem is mostly dealt with, I think. I’ve been a remarkably better son around my mother.” He sighed once more. “Any other questio
ns?”
Evie shook her head, wishing she was as confident about how she herself was handling his mother. “We’re good, Rob.”
“Well, I’m glad you asked, rather than just wonder about it. And I will tell Ann what I just told you—I mean, if you think it would help.”
“Let me think about it, but that’s probably not necessary. As she gets to know you, she’ll write it off as an out-of-character moment and let it go.”
“Nothing else, then?”
There was nothing more she needed to ask, but there was something major she would need to tell him. But talking about her brother was not a simple topic to bring up. This wasn’t the time. “No, we’re good,” she repeated.
Rob parked at the front of the hotel, came around to her door, and slipped his arms around her for a long hug. Evie rubbed her hands along the back of his coat, leaning into the embrace. “Thank you. It means a lot that you came to get me at this time of night. I could have caught a ride with a cop, but this was better.”
“Much better,” Rob said with a smile. “Sleep in, then call me?”
“I will.” Evie walked into the hotel lighter in heart because of their conversation. She was going to be sorting out her personal life in the next few weeks, looking at those lists David made me start, she thought with amusement, but now found herself looking forward to Valentine’s Day. She would settle this by then in her heart.
Twenty-Five
Evie munched on cinnamon toast and held her cell at an angle so David didn’t have to listen to her eating a very late breakfast. He was still working out the press statement with Sharon, Evie listening in, mostly to enjoy the fact she didn’t have to write it.
She picked up the large coffee she’d brought into the office with her and headed inside. Shifting the cellphone to her shoulder, she pushed open the door. “I’m fine, David,” she said, “stay with Maggie. I’m just boxing things up today. John’s going to take Maggie’s fan mail, and the case boxes are returning to the archives. I need to finish up my final report, hand it off to the evidence clerk. Maggie needs you more than I do.”
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