Rock Harbor Series - 04 - Abomination

by Colleen Coble

  Her search dog, Charley, bounded to greet Elena. She rubbed him and kissed his muzzle. “Hey, buddy.” He was a beautiful golden retriever with large, expressive eyes and a sweet soul.

  Naomi gave her a sly smile. “I have a present for you.”

  “For me?”

  Naomi stood and dusted her hands. “Wait here and keep an eye on Matt. He keeps trying to eat the dirt.” She disappeared inside the screen door.

  Elena waved at Terri, who was swinging, then knelt next to the baby. “Hey, little guy.” She opened his tiny fist and dumped the dirt out of his palm. His lips had traces of dirt at the corners when he smiled up at her.

  “Close your eyes,” Naomi called from the other side of the screen door.

  Elena stood and shut her eyes. “Okay,” she called. She heard the screen door squeak, and then a small ball of warm fur was deposited in her arms.

  Her eyes flew open, and she looked down at the most beautiful face she’d ever seen—well, other than Terri’s. A pure white kitten with blue eyes.

  “The neighbor cat had babies,” Naomi said, beaming like a proud grandmother. “Isn’t she darling?”

  “Oh, she’s beautiful.” Elena didn’t think she’d ever been the squealing sort, but a sound very much like one came from her lips. The kitten’s tiny pink tongue came out and licked her cheek. Sharp milk teeth nibbled her chin, and Elena laughed.

  A vehicle rumbled behind her, and she turned to see Bree and Kade pulling up in Kade’s truck. Bree waved and leaped from the vehicle as soon as it stopped. “You were supposed to wait until I got here,” she scolded, her teasing gaze going to the kitten.

  “I couldn’t stand it,” Naomi said. “I just gave it to her.”

  “What are you going to name her?” Bree plucked the kitten out of Elena’s arms and held her up in the air. “Oh, you are just adorable.”

  The kitten mewed and struggled. Bree held it against her chest and laughed when it nibbled the neck of her blouse. Samson whined at her legs, and she held the kitty down for him to sniff. His curly tail wagged frantically, and he licked the little white head.

  Elena held out her arms. “Hey, she’s mine. I want her back.” Bree dropped the kitten back into Elena’s arms, and she nuzzled the little fur ball. “What do you think I should call her?”

  Both women stared at the kitten as if contemplating a great mystery. “Gracie,” Bree said. “I think she looks like a Gracie.”

  “I like it.” Elena kissed the fuzzy head. “I could use a little grace in my life.”

  Bree touched her arm. “I had some time to look around on the Internet today. I found an article about you helping some underprivileged kids take dance lessons.”

  “Really?” Elena asked.

  “I’d hoped for at least a picture or a mention of your family, but there was nothing.”

  “Any idea where we lived?”

  Bree’s nod was vigorous. “In a Detroit suburb. I’ll show you the link when we get home. I bookmarked it.”

  Not that it would help. How much could there be about an obscure dance teacher named Elena Cox? Bree hadn’t even been able to find a phone number. And maybe that was for the best. Elena could settle here, put the evil in her life behind, and start fresh with Terri.

  5

  ANYTHING?” NICK ASKED HIS PARTNER. HIS FAMILY HAD been missing for two months. The constant ups and downs between hope and despair had begun to even out into depression, much as he tried to hang on to the thin strand of possibilities.

  “Nothing new.” Fraser had been checking regularly with police districts up and down Lake Huron. “I don’t get it. This guy likes attention. He notifies us on a Web site used by thousands of people. If her body was somewhere, wouldn’t he tell us like he did with the first vic? Why is he holding off?”

  “I wish I knew. You can bet he has a plan.”

  Nick’s cell phone rang. He grabbed it, then groaned when he saw his mother’s phone number on the caller ID. She’d called every day since Eve and Keri disappeared.

  “Nothing new, Mom,” he said when he answered the phone.

  “Did you sleep last night? I made some kreatopita. Stop by and pick it up.”

  Food was the last thing he wanted, not even his favorite meat pie. He’d been living on coffee and Rolaids. A tone indicated he had another call. “Gotta go, Mom. I’ll call you later.”

  “Nicky—” she started.

  He cut off her voice and answered the other call. “Talk to me.”

  His dad’s voice was grave. “We’ve got another body, Nick. At a geo-caching site. Partial peanut butter sandwich too.” He gave Nick the location.

  Nick swallowed. “Eve?”

  “Can’t tell. Animals got to the body, and all we have left are scattered bones. We’ll have to work on identification.”

  “On my way.” Nick hung up and grabbed his jacket. “There’s another one. We gotta go,” he told Fraser.

  They drove out to the location north of the city and parked behind a row of police cars. The spring air held a chill, but it wasn’t the weather that made Nick shudder. Yellow police tape marked off the woods. Forensic detectives had sifted every cubic foot of soil as the bones were slowly retrieved from the area.

  Eve might be in this grave. And Keri. He wasn’t sure he was ready to face the reality, even if it meant closure. He slipped booties on his shoes and stepped over the tape, then approached the men who were intent on their work.

  “Any idea who it is?”

  One of the men glanced up and shook his head. “No identification yet. Clothes are missing. The grave was so shallow that animals got to it. I think the woman was moved here from somewhere else.”

  “Who found it?” Nick asked.

  The guy nodded to two men who stood talking with an officer out by the road. “A couple of geocachers.”

  Same MO. Nick thanked the man and went over to join the men. He flashed his identification. “You found the body?”

  The younger man had his arms clasped around himself. “When can we go home? We’ve been here five hours. My daughter is going to be worried.” The guy looked like some kind of professional. His hunting jacket looked new, and his hair was a sleek cap. Skinny and in his late thirties, he stared Nick down with the assurance of a man used to commanding other people.

  The other man looked about ten years older. Graying hair curled up around the edge of a plaid hunting cap that matched his vest. His beefy arms were crossed over his chest, and he was frowning. “We’ve told you all we know.”

  “Go over it one more time for me,” Nick said.

  The older man’s face reddened and seemed to swell. “Look, we had nothing to do with this. We were just out geocaching. We found the body at the coordinates listed in the computer bank.”

  “How did you find it? Was it partially uncovered?”

  The older man spoke first, earning an annoyed glare from the other guy. “We didn’t see a canister or anything, so we looked a little closer. Most things aren’t buried, but we couldn’t find anything obvious, and Judd saw a freshly dug spot.” The man jabbed a thumb in Judd’s direction. “I had a small shovel, so we dug down a few inches.” He swallowed hard. “We stopped when we saw a bone. That’s when we noticed other bones scattered around above ground. They looked too big to be an animal’s. I called the police on my cell phone.”

  Nick nodded. “Thanks.” He glanced at the other policeman. “You done with these guys?” The man nodded. The men thanked them and headed toward their truck, a beat-up green Ford.

  Fraser walked over to join him after talking to Cyril. “Think they had anything to do with this?”

  “I doubt it. Any clues on the Web site?” He knew his partner would have checked already. Fraser paid for wireless that was available through his phone.

  “Yeah.” He handed Nick a sheet of yellow lined paper.

  Nick glanced down and read the clue silently. For pride is the beginning of sin, and he that hath it shall pour out abomination: and t
herefore the Lord brought upon them strange calamities, and overthrew them utterly.

  Pain exploded deep inside. “The same verse left at the house,” he whispered. He sagged against a tree. Nick should have been prepared for this.

  “We don’t know that yet, Nick. It will take awhile to get DNA back.”

  He knew. Nick looked back toward the collected bones. “I’ve got someone who can help us identify her faster.” He dug out his cell phone and placed the call.

  GREEN GLADE COMMUNITY WAS THE GLORIFIED NAME FOR THE facility Gideon always thought of as Den of the Zombies. Many of the residents walked around with blank expressions and fixed smiles. Some were violent, and he could imagine them stalking the residents of the nearby town.

  Birds chattered at him from an aviary in the sitting room as he passed. Brightly colored wings flashed by in his peripheral vision, and he paused to watch them a moment.

  “Do you like birds?” A woman in her late twenties with hollow eyes paused long enough to question his scrutiny. “I like to look at them. They don’t even realize there’s a whole world outside. They don’t have to face it.”

  “You don’t have to stay here, you know.”

  Her gaze darted to his face. “It hurts out there.”

  “Pain is good for us. Without it, we would never do anything with our lives.” He indicated the peaceful surroundings with a sweeping hand. “What is there in here? Food, a bed, no pain. But no life either. No growth. Pain is better than pleasure.”

  “It’s safe here.” She didn’t wait for an answer but wandered off, her slippers making scuffing sounds along the tile.

  Gideon shook his head and continued down the hall. Stupid sheep without a shepherd. Miranda was lucky to have him, to be spared from the same fate.

  He pushed open her door and stepped into the room filled with flowers. His monthly Visa bill reflected the cost of these weekly arrivals of carnations. Pink ones, her favorite.

  “Hello, Miranda,” he said.

  She kept her face averted like she always did. Not that it mattered, since he couldn’t bear to look at her destroyed beauty. Though she hadn’t spoken a word in ten years, her body language screamed of despair.

  The doctors called it a catatonic state. He knew she’d just given up. Her pain had lasted long enough. It was time for her to rediscover life. He would give her a reason to live, and she would turn her blue eyes on him and really see him again. She would know all he’d done for her, all he would give up for her.

  She would finally love him again.

  “You’ll have a new face soon, Miranda. I promise,” he whispered, adjusting the pink lace shawl around her shoulders. “I’ll be able to see you as you really are.”

  He’d tried harvesting a few faces after the one he wanted had escaped, but none of them had worked out quite right. Only one face would be perfect, and he would find her again soon.

  “HOW LONG BEFORE YOU HAVE A BUST TO SHOW THE MEDIA?” Nick rubbed his burning eyes and watched Oliver Harding press clay onto the cast of the skull they’d found five days earlier. The forensic sculptor was one of the best in the country. Police departments as far away as California had flown Oliver in to help identify remains.

  The man could have been a shoo-in for a most realistic Santa Claus if he were about fifty pounds heavier. Nick guessed Oliver’s age as forty or so, though he’d grayed early. His rosy cheeks and ready smile had children ready to climb into his lap and ask for a bike for Christmas.

  He’d driven down from Cheboygan as soon as Nick called him. The two had worked on several difficult cases over the past few years and had become friends as well as colleagues. Oliver was a fishing nut, and he’d talked Nick into going out a time or two. Nick had never picked up the passion for sitting in a boat and watching a bobber.

  Oliver’s other passion was bringing closure to hurting families, and Nick always called him when he was in a tight spot.

  The sculptor looked up and blinked his reddened eyes. Bits of clay clung to his neatly trimmed white beard, and his smile had dropped. Glancing at his watch, Nick realized the man had been at it for twelve solid hours so far today, after five days of the same grueling schedule. If the need wasn’t so great, Nick would have been ashamed of his insistence.

  Oliver walked around to the other side of the face he was sculpting. “Nick, you know you can’t rush this. There is a time for everything under heaven. It normally takes a couple of weeks.”

  “I don’t have a couple of weeks,” Nick said.

  “I’m going as fast as I can. I should have something to look at by late tonight or early in the morning.” He glanced at Nick. “You should have called me when the first faceless woman turned up. I could have gotten her back to her family sooner.”

  “I thought you only worked with bones.”

  “Not always.” Oliver bent back over the table.

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “No, my friend.” He glanced at Nick. “Anything on dental records?”

  Nick shook his head. “There was a fire at Eve’s dental office a month ago. All the records were lost. No matches to anyone else yet.”

  “Seems rather convenient.”

  “I’ll do what I can. You look exhausted. Take a nap.”

  “I thought so too. I bet Gideon torched the place. You’re our only hope.”

  Nick wished he could sleep. His eyes burned, and his throat felt sore and scratchy. He turned away and went to look out the window. The rain had come for three solid days, and the landscape looked as dreary as he felt.

  Eve’s birthday was today. In past years he would bring home flowers—carnations were her favorite—and DeBrand truffles that he ordered online. He’d turned down an invitation from his parents for dinner, but he suddenly didn’t want to be alone. Maybe he’d go after all.

  Nick turned his gaze back to the worktable. The bust looked eerily like his wife. He squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe it was a trick of the light. Opening them again, he stepped closer. Eve’s face sharpened into better focus.

  “It’s her,” he said hoarsely. The strength ran out of his legs. He stumbled back and fell into the chair.

  “Don’t jump to conclusions,” Oliver said. “The painting still needs to be done. We don’t have the results back from the lab on when she died either. As backed up as they are, that may not come for weeks. What are you seeing?”

  Nick couldn’t take his eyes off the bust. “The bone structure, the way the eyes are set.”

  Oliver winced. “Just remember, it’s hard to tell at this stage.”

  He nodded, unable to trust his voice to speak. Keri. Where was she? Would Gideon have killed a child? It would be outside his MO. Nick could only pray she was alive.

  He stared at the bust again. “When will you be done with the painting?”

  “No later than tomorrow morning. I’ll work all night on it if I have to.”

  “Call me when you’re finished. Maybe I’m seeing things.” Now the face looked like a shapeless blob. He reminded himself that the clue left on the geocaching site was the same one left at Eve’s house. He already knew the outcome—he just didn’t want to face it.

  “Maybe. You’ve been under a lot of stress. Your dad can take a look when it’s done.”

  “I’ve got to get out of here.” Nick bolted to his feet and left the room. Driving to his parents’ house, he kept blinking moisture out of his eyes. He parked on the street and swiped the back of his hand over his cheeks. He’d had maybe four hours of sleep a night ever since Eve and Keri had vanished. Now he understood that knowing their fate wouldn’t bring him rest. He might not truly rest again until he brought Eve’s murderer to justice.

  Feeling older than his thirty-five years, he threw open the car door and dragged himself up the walk. Even the aroma of mousalia wafting out the screen door failed to lift the lead from his feet.

  His parents had lived in this Victorian-era neighborhood in Bay City all his life. The three-story home held memories o
f kids running in and out, lots of good food and laughter, and almond biscuits in front of the TV while the family watched Family Ties.

  Some hard memories lived on, too, like the night his father had been shot by a robber fleeing a convenience store when Cyril was a city policeman.

  Nick walked inside the house. “I’m here,” he called.

  His mother came from the kitchen, wiping flour on her apron. “Nicky, you said you weren’t coming.” Her smile changed to a frown that deepened when she glanced at his face. “You’ve probably lost fifteen pounds. Are you sleeping?”

  “Not much,” he admitted. He dropped a kiss on her upturned cheek. “Everyone else here?” He wanted to tell her about Oliver’s sculpture, but he couldn’t talk about it. Not yet.

  “Layna is making the salad. The boys are watching baseball with your father. Go on in. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

  “I’ll say hi to Sis first. Besides, I hear those black olives calling me.”

  The kitchen had always been his favorite place growing up, and not just because he liked to eat. The white cabinets always held surprises like loukoumades, Greek-style donuts his mother made weekly for his father. Fresh cookies always filled the cookie jar. But mostly it was the room where his mother was likely to be found, dispensing advice and love to her family.

  His sister, Layna, looked up briefly when he entered. “I thought maybe you weren’t going to make it.” Two years his senior, she’d been divorced five years ago and had two boys who adored their uncle Nick. The divorce had twisted her mouth and hardened her eyes, which saw the bad in everything.

  Nick loved her, but it was hard to spend much time around her. “I wouldn’t miss playing Super Mario with the boys.”

  She finally smiled then, an expression that transformed her into the girl he used to know, the one who borrowed his clothes during the grunge trend and who cheered at his football games.

  She tapped her fist on his shoulder. “You’re a great uncle. It’s a good thing when their father cares so little.” She slapped his arm. “You haven’t been around much either lately.”