She turned away, pressing her palm to her forehead. “Why?”
She knew, though. If a killer were compulsive about his routine, he would be nearly powerless to change it. He would have to follow it, even if—
“But Oliver doesn’t fit the victim’s profile!” she shouted at the night sky.
Right, right. So, that meant that someone was trying to make it look like the same killer, but someone with such intimate knowledge of the crime scene that they would be able to recreate all this detail.
“Someone like me,” she rasped.
I didn’t do this and forget about it, she insisted. I’m not crazy.
She got out her phone and dialed. She held it to her ear. “Reilly?” she said when he answered. “We need to get a team out in the woods. There’s evidence for Oliver’s case.”
CHAPTER NINE
“Why’d you come out here on your own?” said Reilly. They were outside the woods. The stars were bright overhead and the air was cool.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I should have had you come with me. But I didn’t touch anything.”
The team that Reilly had called in, assembled of the uniforms assigned to the task force this week, were still out in the woods, bagging anything they thought might be evidence.
Reilly licked his lips. “Yeah, well, Wren, it’s not good. Now, you were out there, so if we find anything linking to you, we’ll eliminate it, but… well, someone could say that you did that on purpose. That you came out here in order to have evidence of you eliminated. You needed to let me know about this. You’re too close—”
“I’m sorry.” She raked her fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry, Reilly. I shouldn’t have come alone. I should have talked to you.”
“You definitely should have.”
She swallowed. “You think it’s me.”
“No.” He shook his head, dismissing this, and she believed him. “I don’t. I would never think that about you.”
“Why not?” she said. “Because maybe someone should, you know?”
He gave her a long, long look. “Are you trying to confess something to me, Wren?”
“No. If I did it, I don’t remember. If I did it, it was in some kind of fugue state—”
“That’s a real thing?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t think that’s a real thing.”
“I think it could be a real thing.”
“I think that’s a thing people say that happened, because they can’t face what they really are.”
“Reilly, I think I could have gotten him to come with me. I think I could have convinced him to walk out into the woods with me. If I promised him help with his sister, he would have done what I asked. I could have laid him out just like Major laid out the girls.” She paused. “Of course, then I would have had to transport him out to where we found him. How would I have done that? I don’t know if I could drag him. I mean, I’m not a weakling, but—”
“Stop it, Wren.” He took her by the shoulders. “You have to pull yourself together. You would know if you did this. You didn’t.”
She didn’t say anything.
“Look, I’m not sure if it’s a good idea for you to stay on this case. Considering how close you are to everything, once we find the killer and arrest him, the guy’s lawyer is going to use this to poke holes in whatever case we make. Besides, I feel as though you could maybe use a break.”
She raised her gaze to meet his. “I think we should go see Vivian.”
“What?”
“You’re right. It’s a lead. We need to follow up on any and all leads. Maybe she does know something.”
He folded his arms over his chest.
She drew in a breath through her nose, nodding. “Yeah, that’s what we should do. Make that happen, Reilly. Get us in to see her.” She turned to watch as uniformed officers trudged out towards the road, where their cars were parked. She gestured. “I should maybe get home.”
“Wren, I’m serious about your backing off the case.”
“You’ll need me if you want to talk to Vivian,” said Wren, shooting him a glance. Then she gave him a half-wave and started after the other officers, leaving Reilly there, in the darkness.
* * *
When Wren got home, Hawk was sitting on her porch, a bottle of whiskey between his thighs.
“Go home,” she said to him. She opened the door and went inside the house. Then she shut the door behind her. She tossed her keys on the table next to the door. She shrugged out of her leather jacket.
Behind her, the door opened.
She turned.
Hawk held out the bottle of whiskey to her.
She took it and took a big gulp. Then she grimaced as it burned its path down her throat. She gave it back to him. “I mean it. Go.”
“Listen, Wren, where you been?”
“I went for a walk in the woods, out where Major killed those girls,” she said, and she looked him straight in the eye. She wasn’t sure what she expected him to do. Flinch?
He gazed back at her steadily. “Why would you do a thing like that?”
“Oliver’s clothes were out there,” she said.
“How’d you know that?” he said.
“Because I saw them,” she said.
“You knew they’d be there before you went on the walk,” he said. “You knew that because…” He took a drink of whiskey. “Did you put them there, Wren?”
“Don’t do that.” She pointed at him. “Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“I think you should go, Hawk. This is the third time I’ve said that.”
He offered her the whiskey again.
She waved it away.
He didn’t leave.
She hugged herself. “What happened? The night after I climbed out of that well, you were sorry. You seemed… regretful. But you don’t anymore.”
“Don’t I?” He hung his head, chuckling to himself. “Well, I guess I wonder, little bird, between the two of us, which of us is worse?”
Her jaw twitched.
He looked up at her. “I thought that you made me better, but then I realized that wasn’t true. Whatever it was, it got too far in me. No one can get it out of me, not even you. Maybe especially not you. Maybe because it’s also in you.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“The darkness, little bird. It’s why you want me. Your darkness wants my darkness. It’s what makes you pant and sigh and scream my name. It’s what brings you to your brink over and over again. It’s the part of you—”
“Stop.” She whispered it.
But he listened to the whisper. He drank more whiskey and he wouldn’t look at her.
“Go,” she said hoarsely, pointing to the door.
He closed the distance between them, reached up and feathered his fingers over her cheekbone. “You sure that’s what you want?”
Her lips parted, and she looked at him, at his penetrating gray eyes and his intense expression, and she thought of leaning close to him, putting her mouth on his skin, pushing aside his clothes, taking him back to her bed. She thought of how easy that would be, how it would even feel good, how it would be comforting. She wanted comfort and closeness and warmth right now. “Yes,” she murmured. “Get out of my house. Now.”
He did flinch now, as if she’d cut him. “Whatever you say, little bird.” And then he hunched over and slunk out of the house, like a scolded dog.
CHAPTER TEN
Ms. Givens, Timmy’s speech teacher, paged idly through the book they’d handed to her. “Huh, all very interesting,” she said, giving them both an encouraging smile.
Reilly smiled back. “Well, we just wanted to let you know that we’ve been implementing it, and it’s caused a huge breakthrough for Timmy.”
“I actually am familiar with this.” Ms. Givens closed the book and set it on the table in front of her. The table was small, kid-sized, which meant that it looked a little ridicul
ous next to their adult-sized chairs. The table was between Ms. Givens and Reilly and Janessa. “We did talk about it in my program at college. It doesn’t have any clinical experimentation to back it up, however, so it’s just the opinions of the person who wrote the book. In order to be recognized by the community, there has to be more work done.”
“But the book is full of case studies,” said Janessa.
“The book is full of anecdotes,” said Ms. Givens.
Janessa gave Reilly a despairing look. Everything she feared was coming true.
Reilly felt a surge of his old protectiveness toward Janessa. Before she was typically upset at him, he used to hate it when she got upset. He’d do anything in his power to make her feel better. “Now, wait a second. We both read the book, and we started doing something so simple—just repeating back to Timmy what it was that he was saying—and suddenly, after years of nothing, we’re making progress.”
Ms. Givens nodded. “True. I’ve seen it. He’s much more interactive. It’s really amazing.”
“So?” said Janessa. “You’re just discounting the book out of hand even though you’ve seen what it’s done?”
“I’m not,” said Ms. Givens. “Really, I’m not. It’s clear that whatever you’ve done, it’s working, and I wouldn’t discourage you from continuing it. I don’t think the book is harmful, I’m just not sure if all the claims in it are based on sound science.”
“So, what do you mean by that?” said Reilly, folding his arms over his chest.
“Well, I guess it could be possible that the method in the book does help create progress, but perhaps not for the reasons that the author thinks it does. This gestalt idea is seductive, but I’m not sure it’s always borne out in testing among children. Whatever the case, the fact that you’ve both been interacting with Timmy, whether it’s just repeating what he’s saying or not, it’s shown him that what he has to say is meaningful and that language can help him connect with other people, and he’s made a decision to use language more and more to communicate.”
“I don’t think that at all,” said Reilly. “He was always trying to communicate, but we weren’t trying to understand.”
Ms. Givens spread her hands. “That could be true. We don’t know if Timmy was simply uninterested in the world around him before or if he was just unable to express himself.”
“Of course he was interested!” said Janessa. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re right,” said Ms. Givens. “But the professionals who study this find evidence that supports the other point of view as well. Anyway, as I said, I think that the two of you should continue to do whatever it is that you’re doing with Timmy. Keep up the good work, really. But if you’re here to ask me to deviate from the state-appointed curriculum, I’m afraid I can’t do that. It’s simply not up to me.”
Janessa sighed. “Oh, fine. Look, I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job, but I’m just saying, that this is insight into my son, who you work with, and I want you to have it.”
“I’m grateful, really,” said Ms. Givens. “I am. And I thank you both for coming down, and for being such great parents to Timmy. You’re both so committed and caring. I can tell that. He’s a lucky little boy.”
Reilly could tell she was tying up the conversation, wanting it to be over. “We really weren’t intending any offense,” he said.
“And none’s taken,” said Ms. Givens. “I hope I haven’t offended you. I’ll be Timmy’s speech therapist while he’s at this school, so we still have some time yet to work together, and I want our relationship to be a good one.” She smiled widely.
“Sure,” said Janessa. “Of course.”
The meeting was basically over after that. They talked a little longer, but not about anything of consequence, and then they said their goodbyes and left.
Reilly and Janessa walked out of the building together. Outside, they paused in the parking lot before getting into their respective cars.
“I feel like we just wasted our time,” said Janessa.
“Yeah, it didn’t go as well as I’d hoped,” said Reilly.
“I’m glad you came, anyway,” said Janessa. “It means a lot. Thank you so much.”
“Sure thing. Of course.”
“It’s just… it’s the kind of thing you never would have done before the divorce.”
“That’s because I was an ass,” said Reilly, chuckling wryly.
“Well, I don’t know if I’d call you names.” Janessa smiled too.
“In some ways, maybe the divorce has been a good thing,” said Reilly.
“In some ways,” she agreed. “See you around, Caius.”
“See you around, Jannie.”
* * *
“Hi,” said Emmaline Campbell, holding out her hand to Wren. She was a pretty girl. Thin. Pale. But that was to be expected when she was battling cancer. She smiled at Wren, and her smile was almost too wide for her face, and it was infectious.
Wren couldn’t help but smile too. She shook hands with Emmaline. “Hi.”
“I wanted to meet you earlier,” said Emmaline. “When I heard that you said yes, I said we should do something for you. Like have you over to dinner or something. But we haven’t been in the mood for cooking lately, me and Mama, not after Oliver.”
“It’s absolutely fine,” said Wren. “You don’t have to do anything for me.”
Alice Delacroix approached from the parking lot of the clinic where they had met up. She had been parking the car, but had dropped her daughter Emmaline off at the door. Wren had been waiting there for them.
She wasn’t sure exactly why they were meeting up. It wasn’t necessary for them to be there while she got blood drawn. Maybe they just wanted to make sure she’d actually do it. She thought that if it was someone she loved dying, and if some other person was her best hope for saving her loved one, she’d be pretty motivated to make sure too.
“Yes, we do,” said Emmaline. “I do. If you can help me, I’ll owe you.”
“No,” said Wren. “Absolutely not. It’s the kind of thing that people do for each other. That, um, that…”
“Sisters?”
“Yeah, that sisters do.” But Wren couldn’t look the girl in the eye. I am not doing this in penance. I didn’t kill Oliver.
Alice joined them. “Well, you made it, Wren. I’m glad.”
“Of course,” said Wren. “I said I’d be here. I am. You don’t have to worry. I keep my promises.”
“We’re not worried,” said Alice, forcing a laugh. She pointed to the door. “Shall we?”
They went into the clinic. Wren went to the front desk to sign in while Alice and Emmaline stood behind her, waiting. They gave her paperwork to fill out even though she wasn’t really a patient. Wren went back to a chair and began to scribble and check boxes.
While she was doing that, Alice and Emmaline sat on either side and watched, both quiet.
Wren wanted to hide the paper from them for some reason. She felt nervous with their eyes on her. But she finished it quickly and returned it to the front desk.
When she came back to her seat, Alice said, “Do you know what to expect?”
“They’re just going to draw some blood,” said Wren. “Right?”
“Right,” said Alice. “But if you’re a match, you’ll need to take some supplements and then they’ll do a long harvesting session. It takes hours, and it can be uncomfortable—”
“It’s fine,” said Wren. “I said I would do it.” She wasn’t sure why she was so defensive.
“I’m sorry.” Alice looked away.
“I’m sorry,” said Wren.
And then a nurse called Wren’s name.
She got up.
Alice got up too.
Emmaline shook her head at her mother. She smiled her big smile at Wren. “We’ll be here when you get back.”
Wren smiled back, but her smile felt forced. She crossed to the nurse and went back with
her. The nurse weighed her and took her blood pressure and temperature and then sat down at a computer and began asking her all the questions that had been on the forms that Wren had filled out. Wren wasn’t even sure why she’d bothered filling those out. She wasn’t sure why this stuff was even important.
She answered as best she could, but some of the things she didn’t know, like about her family history. She didn’t know anything about Adrian Campbell’s illnesses or propensity for various diseases.
“Date of last menstrual period?” chirped the nurse.
“Uh… I don’t know,” said Wren. She’d left it blank on the form.
“Give me an estimate then,” said the nurse.
“Well…” Wren got out her phone and scrolled through the calendar. She furrowed her brow. “Uh, let’s see, should have been about…” Wait, that couldn’t be right. She glared at the nurse. “Why does this even matter? Why the twenty questions? Just take my damned blood.”
“Well, if you were pregnant, you wouldn’t be able to donate marrow. It wouldn’t be safe for you or the baby.”
“I’m not pregnant,” said Wren. “I’m on the pill.” Well, actually, she had that ring thing that you inserted once a month, because she was hell at remembering to take a pill every day. The ring was easier because she only had to remember to put it in. She had to admit that she usually only remembered to take the thing out whenever she started her period, and then she would put another one in after it was over.
“Okay,” said the nurse. “So, give me a guess about your period, then?”
Wren looked down at her calendar and gave her a random date.
“The pill isn’t a hundred percent, you know,” said the nurse.
“I’m not pregnant,” Wren growled.
* * *
Wren kept her birth control rings in the refrigerator, because that was where they were meant to be stored. When she got back home, she went to the fridge and counted them.
“Fuck,” she said.
Then she went to the bathroom and checked. No ring.
“Fuck,” she said again.
Wren Delacroix Series Box Set Page 45