The Night Killer

by Beverly Connor

  “How can I help you?” said Diane.

  “This thing,” said Earl, “this thing about our sheriff. We want you to tell us it is a lie.”

  “Can you be more specific than ‘thing’?” said Diane. “I’m not trying to give you a hard time, but I don’t know exactly what thing you are referring to.”

  “People are saying he put you in a cell with a bunch of men who tried to . . . to violate you,” said Maud.

  “If by ‘bunch’ you mean three drunken men, then yes, it is true. Why would you want me to say it is not?”

  “It can’t be true,” she said. “Leland wouldn’t do that. He respects women.”

  “It is true. And it was terrifying. And I am very angry,” said Diane. “In my previous position, before I came back to Rosewood, it was my job to investigate petty dictators in third-world countries who used the same tactic to intimidate the population into submission. Such horrors are not supposed to happen here.” She felt her face getting warm. “Not in this country, where we cherish freedom and safety. But Conrad did it.”

  They looked at each other and back at Diane.

  “We don’t believe you,” Maud said, shifting her shoulders back and her chin up.

  “There are half a dozen witnesses, but I suppose you wouldn’t believe them either,” said Diane.

  Diane couldn’t figure out why they were here. They’d made up their minds not to believe her, so why bother with the trip? Then she realized: They had a part in it. Therefore, they didn’t want it to be true. Classic cognitive dissonance with a generous splash of guilt. The brain can’t hold two contradictory beliefs without some serious mental fireworks. For them, Leland Conrad was a good man. But good men don’t cause women to be raped. So one must be a lie. It was more comfortable to let the lie be on Diane. She wasn’t having any of it.

  “He’s admitted it,” said Diane.

  “He didn’t. He couldn’t,” said Maud. “You’re lying.”

  “Look, I don’t have time to stand out here all day telling you what you came here refusing to believe anyway. It wastes both our time.”

  “Some are saying he did it to teach you a lesson . . . that he wasn’t going to let it happen,” said Earl. “The deputy was supposed to stop it but he got sick. That’s one rumor.”

  So they know more about it than they initially let on.

  “Deputy Bob is known to be unreliable, and Conrad puts him in charge of something as important as saving me from a brutal gang rape? So we have criminal negligence, rather than just plain criminal, is that it?”

  “It wasn’t his fault about Bob,” said Earl.

  “It’s all right with you that he thought it was his job to teach me a lesson? That’s not a problem for you? Would it be okay if he did the same thing to you? Or to someone you love?”

  “Well, it’s not the same thing at all,” said Earl.

  “You were interfering. You were warned off,” said Maud. “You violated the sheriff’s order.”

  “Well, let’s examine that,” said Diane. “Before I went to your church on Sunday, I checked the statutes to see if perhaps your sheriff had been granted the authority to ban someone from setting foot in the county. Rendell County doesn’t have any such provision. Neither do the statutes of the State of Georgia. The State of Georgia frowns on individual sheriffs making and enforcing their own laws. In fact, it is prohibited by the state constitution. The sheriff is sworn to uphold that constitution and enforce the laws of the State of Georgia. He is sworn to protect the personal freedoms and the personal safety of everyone who lives or travels within the borders of Rendell County. Everyone—not just those he likes or those who support him.”

  “These are bad times,” said Earl. “Sometimes you have to do things you don’t like in order to protect people.”

  “We are simple people of faith,” said Maud. She straightened her shoulders again, which had begun to sag, hopefully under the weight of Diane’s words.

  “But your faith is not enough for these times?” said Diane.

  “It certainly is. Why would you say that?” said Maud. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  “I didn’t. Your husband said it. He just said you have to do things contrary to your beliefs in order to be safe. You’re saying your beliefs are fine when the times are good and things are going along okay, but they aren’t good enough for hard times, when they are needed the most.”

  They looked at each other again. “You’re twisting our meaning,” said Earl.

  “No, I’m not. If you examine your words and carry your statement to its logical conclusion, you’ll see that I’m not twisting anything.”

  “Sheriff Conrad is a good man. He’s been good to us. And he’s had a hard life,” said Maud. “His wife committed suicide when Travis was just a boy. His in-laws blamed him and tried to turn little Travis against him. Poor Travis had a real hard time after his mother died. He got into alcohol, vandalism, and some reckless driving. Nothing bad, but Leland was worried sick about him. That’s why he joined his church. He thought the kind of strict beliefs they have would help Travis, and they have. He’s a fine young man and it’s Leland’s doing. And Leland does what he thinks is best for the community,” Maud added.

  “And then there was this thing with Joe Watson,” said Earl. “We don’t need to be a tourist trap. How could we maintain the morals of our kids if they lived in a tourist trap, with outsiders coming in with their drugs and alcohol?”

  “Whatever went on in Conrad’s past or whatever is going on now can never be an excuse for what he did to me,” said Diane. “The only acceptable excuse would be if someone were holding a gun to his child’s head and would pull the trigger unless he put me in the cell with those men. That’s the only duress I’ll accept. And for the life of me, I don’t understand why the excuses you listed are good enough for you. Now I need to go.”

  “You think you are so smart.” Maud was almost shaking. “You can outtalk us; I’ll give you that,” said Maud. “But what’s right is right. Leland is a good man and we don’t want you smearing his name.”

  “It’s out of my hands,” said Diane. “Good men don’t do what he did. And good people don’t approve of it.”

  Maud sucked in her breath.

  “Well, just how did you survive it?” said Earl. His confident manner suggested he’d thought of some loop-hole in Diane’s logic. “They were three strong men.”

  “I fought,” said Diane. “I know anatomy and I know how to hit where it will hurt. The man with me—the one Conrad put in a cell for no reason whatsoever—is a retired military officer with combat experience. He told me what to do to try to save myself, and he was able to grab one of the men through the bars who was coming for me. I fought,” Diane said again. “I fought hard to not let that happen to me, and I was lucky. Good people came with the GBI to get me out.”

  Earl frowned and his lips quivered. Diane could see his anger and it pissed her off. How could they think it was right to do that to anyone?

  “The sheriff said you don’t have faith,” said Maud.

  “Is that what he said?” said Diane.

  “It’s this place.” Maud pointed at the museum. She reached out and grabbed Diane’s sleeve. Her voice was soft and had a sincerity to it. “What you teach—it’s robbed you of your faith.” She let go of Diane’s sleeve and clasped her hands together.

  Diane supposed it was a brief attempt at what Maud considered kindness. Diane didn’t feel kindness. She didn’t feel kind, at the moment.

  “I’m not even going there,” said Diane.

  “I can see there’s no reasoning with you,” said Earl. “Let’s go, Maud.”

  He and his wife got back in their car and Diane watched them drive away.

  She turned to get in the museum’s SUV. Hers hadn’t yet come back from being repaired. She noticed Andie’s car was still there. Liam’s black Mercury Cougar was gone. Diane smiled. Maybe he had taken her out after all. She shook off the bad taste Maud and E
arl had left her with, got in her vehicle, and drove home, looking forward to seeing Frank. Looking forward to some sane conversation and some affection.

  Diane arrived home and enjoyed an evening with Frank, leaving thoughts of murder, Sheriff Conrad, and Rendell County behind her. She showered, changed into soft, comfortable, blue-gray drawstring pants and a matching tee. Frank brought food from a French restaurant this time, salmon marinated in vodka and orange juice, roasted vegetables, French onion soup, and gâteau au chocolat for dessert.

  “Well, this is heavenly,” said Diane.

  “Not bad,” said Frank, smiling. “There’s some of your favorite science fiction on tonight. I thought we’d curl up on the couch, watch a little, and turn in early.”

  “Great plan,” she said.

  Diane arose a couple of hours later than usual the next morning feeling refreshed. She rolled out of bed, stretched, showered, dressed, downed a protein drink, and drove to the museum. The parking lot was full and there was a tour bus of schoolchildren from Atlanta. She hurried up the steps and walked to Andie’s office. She turned the knob but the door was locked. She took out her keys and opened it. Andie wasn’t at her desk. Diane wondered if she was meeting with the webcam project committee. She went into her own office and booted up her computer. There were no messages from Andie on her desk. That was fine with Diane; she could use a slow morning. She felt refreshed, but she was still sore. The six-mile hike to the cave and back didn’t work out as many kinks from her muscles as she would have liked.

  She worked for several minutes at the computer, responding to e- mail replies to the ones she sent the day before. She noticed that the phones weren’t ringing in her or Andie’s office—something unheard-of around there. Were the phones out? She picked up the phone. Dial tone. Fine.

  Diane called Sierra the secretary. Dorette down the hall in Publicity answered.

  “This is Diane. Where is Sierra?”

  “Oh, Dr. Fallon, there was a problem with the tour from Atlanta and she went to check on it. I’m catching the phones. I’ve got lots of messages if you want them.”

  “Where is Andie?” asked Diane.

  “Well, we thought maybe she was coming in late too,” said Dorette.

  “Her car is here,” said Diane.

  “Is it? Then I guess she’s somewhere in the building.”

  “Thank you, Dorette. Are any of the messages urgent?”

  “Well, I don’t know.” She paused. “I’m good at publicity,” she said. “God, that sounded lame, didn’t it?”

  Diane smiled. “I understand. I’ll go see what the problem is with the tour.”

  She hung up the phone and left the office in search of Sierra. She met her in the hall.

  “What happened with the tour?” asked Diane.

  “Wrong day,” said Sierra. “I don’t know who made the error—us or them—but I got one of the docents to take charge of it. There was another group coming at the same time, so we combined them, and I called in another docent who was on her day off. I think it will all work out.”

  “Good thinking. Have you seen Andie?” asked Diane.

  “No, but her car is here. When the problem with the tour group came up and I found her office dark, I called her home—thinking, like, maybe her car wouldn’t start and she got a ride home last night and needed one back today. I got her answering machine. She didn’t answer her cell either,” said Sierra. “But she’s got a bunch of meetings scheduled, so I just figured that’s where she is.”

  “Thanks. You did well,” said Diane.

  Diane went back to her office and tried Andie’s home phone again and her cell. Still no answer at home and the cell just rolled over to voice mail. Diane called Liam as she checked her e-mail again. Sometimes Andie left messages for her there. She heard Liam’s voice on the phone say, “Hello,” but all she could do was stare at the computer screen. She placed her phone back in its cradle and put her hand over her mouth.

  Chapter 53

  Diane sat at her desk shaking.

  Oh God. Oh God.

  She reached for the phone—the private one connected to the crime lab.

  “David here.”

  “David, who’s in the crime lab?” she asked.

  “Me, Neva, and Izzy. We’re all doing lab work today. Why, what’s wrong?”

  “Get Jin up there with you. Tell him to put one of the Spearmans in charge of the DNA lab. Get the messages from my museum computer. Be discreet. I’ll be right there.”

  Diane hung up her desk phone and picked up her cell and started a text message, then stopped. Could it be compromised in some way? She wished she’d listened when David was going on about cells, the way he often did about electronic things. She turned off her computer and went to Sierra’s office.

  “Sierra, may I borrow your cell phone?” she asked.

  “Sure,” said Sierra.

  Diane almost grabbed the cell from her hand, fumbling with it, but finally sent Frank a text message saying she needed him at the crime lab . . . now.

  “Sierra, I have to attend to something. You’re in charge of the museum. Call Archives and ask Beth to come down and help. Call me . . . in the crime lab . . . only if the problem is dire.”

  “Is something wrong?” asked Sierra.

  “Please don’t ask any questions right now. I’ll keep in touch,” she said.

  “Okay, Dr. Fallon,” said Sierra, frowning. She looked worried, but Diane couldn’t help it.

  Diane left the office wing and took the quickest route to the crime lab, which was the elevator in the lobby to the third floor, and crossing over from there. As she was getting in the elevator, Liam slipped in with her.

  “I’m looking for Andie,” he said.

  Diane pushed the stop button on the elevator and it came to a jerky halt.

  She turned to a startled Liam, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and pushed him against the wall of the elevator.

  “Look in my eyes and tell me you are on the level, that there isn’t some secret waiting to come out, that you are who we think you are,” he said.

  His stunned expression gave way to alarm.

  “Something’s happened to Andie,” he said. He put his hands over hers, but didn’t pull them away. “What’s happened? Please tell me.”

  Diane searched his eyes. They were dark blue and looked full of concern, verging on panic. It looked real. Everyone seemed to be able to read Diane’s face, but it was a struggle for her to read theirs. She let go of his shirt.

  “Yes, something’s happened. Damn it. Something terrible has happened.” Diane struggled to keep tears out of her eyes. Please, no emotions right now. She had to deal with this. She took a breath. “I’m going to the crime lab. I’ll explain there.”

  Her hand shook as she started the elevator back up and used her key to override any call from the second floor. They rode in silence. Liam stared at her, fear in his eyes, but he didn’t push.

  On the third floor they got out and Diane rushed to the west wing, waving away anyone who tried to catch her attention. When she entered the crime lab they all were there—David, Izzy, Neva, and Jin. Her team. People she trusted. They all looked grim. They had seen the e-mail attachment.

  “I’ve already started trying to identify the background sounds,” said David. He shook his head. “So far . . . white noise. Someone’s effort to stop me from doing what I’m trying to do.”

  “What’s going on?” said Liam.

  “Show him the video,” said Diane.

  They all crowded around the monitor in one of the glassed-in workstations. The video was already on the screen. David played it again. Diane grabbed his hand as it came on. David squeezed back.

  On the screen was Andie, her arms and legs bound to a chair with duct tape, sitting in front of a blue-white background that looked to be a sheet. Her Vitruvian Man T-shirt and jeans were drenched in blood . . . her head back . . . her neck glistening in deep red.

  Liam sucked in his breat
h. “Andie. God, no. Please, no.” He sank to the chair.

  As if instructed by someone out of sight, Andie lifted her head and stared into the camera. It was a recreation of the other murders. Designed to terrify, it had succeeded.

  The screen went blank for a moment and came back with Andie holding a piece of paper. She was shaking and dropped it. The screen went blank again. When it came back moments later she was holding the paper again. She read from the paper in a shaky voice, one that was hoarse . . . on the verge of tears. She stumbled several times in the reading, her eyes darting to her captor, terror on her face. Diane’s heart ached.

  “ ‘I want the diary, or this will be real,’ ” her shaky voice said. “ ‘I know you have it. Don’t go to the police. I will know. I will contact you when it suits me. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow. Right now, I want to have fun. Don’t fuck with me.’ ”

  “Oh, God, this is my fault,” said Liam. “This wouldn’t have happened if I’d kept my date with her. Now she’s . . .”

  “Don’t go there,” said David. “We don’t have time.”

  Diane turned to David. “Is he smart?” she asked.

  “Yes, but not real smart,” he said.

  “What does that mean?” said Liam, almost angrily.

  “He wants to set Diane up psychologically so she won’t have any choice but to do what he says. That’s why the opening scene—Diane’s seen the real thing. And that’s why the waiting game and the threat. He—or she, I suppose—wants to put Diane in a position of such anxiety that she’ll do anything to get Andie back.”

  “It’s working,” said Liam. “Where’s the part where he’s not real smart?”

  “He’s giving us time,” said David.

  “What are we going to do?” said Liam.

  “I’ve already started. You heard the white noise in the background? It kind of sounds like wind?”

  They nodded.

  “It’s not really white. It’s in the pink range—meaning that it’s a higher frequency. It’s probably being generated by a device for helping you sleep, giving you a pleasant sound. White noise isn’t pleasant. What I’m doing now is working on blocking that frequency in the video to hear any other sounds in the background. I’m also analyzing Andie’s voice to see what kind of space she might be held in. The computer is doing that right now. Also, I’m trying to backtrack where the e-mail originated from.”