"Why wouldn't she have?"
"She don't like him. She don't like Creed even though he gives her presents." His lower lip trembled.
"I hear he was very nice to her. I hear he gave her flowers at school. And candy. "
"He never gave her no candy 'cause she wouldn't have a-taken it."
"She wouldn't take it?"
"She wouldn't. Not even the kind she liked. I seen her take it from others."
"Fireballs?"
"Wren Maxwell trades'em to me for the toothpicks and I seen him give the candy to her."
"Was she by herself when she was walking home that night with her guitar?"
"She was."
"Where?"
"On the road. About a mile from the church."
"Then she wasn't walking on the path that goes around the lake?"
"She was on the road. It was dark."
"Where were the other children from her youth group?"
"They was way behind her, the ones I saw. I didn't see but three or four. She was walking fast and crying. I slowed down when I seen she was crying. But she kept walking and I went on. I kept her in sight for a while'cause I was afeared something was wrong."
"Why did you think that?"
"She was crying."
"Did you watch her until she got to her house?"
"Yeah."
"You know where her house is?"
"I know where."
"Then what happened?" I asked, and I knew very well why the police were looking for him. I could understand their suspicions and knew they would grow only darker if they heard what he was telling me.
"I seen her go in the house."
"Did she see you?"
"Naw. Some of the time I didn't have my headlights on." Dear God, I thought.
"Creed, do you understand why the police are concerned?" He swirled the liquor some more, and his eyes turned in a little and were an unusual mixture of brown and green.
"I didn't do nothing to her," he said, and I believed him.
"You were just keeping your eye on her because you saw she was upset," I said.
"And you liked her."
"I saw she was upset, I did." He took a sip from the jar.
"Do you know where she was found? Where the fisherman found her?"
"I know of it."
"You've been to the spot." He did not answer.
"You visited the spot and left her candy. After she was dead."
"A lot of folks has been there. They go to look. But her kin don't go."
"Her kin? Do you mean her mother?"
"She don't go."
"Has anyone seen you go there?"
"Naw."
"You left candy in that place. A present for her." His lip was trembling again and his eyes watered.
"I left her Fireballs." When he said "fire" it sounded like "far."
"Why in that place? Why not on her grave?"
"I didn't want no one to see me."
"Why?" He stared at the jar and did not need to say it. I knew why. I could imagine the names the schoolchildren called him as he pushed his broom up and down halls. I could imagine the smirks and laughter, the terrible teasing that ensued if it seemed Creed Lindsey got sweet on anyone. And he had been sweet on Emily Steiner and she had been sweet on Wren. It was very dark when I went out, and Deborah followed me like a silent cat as I returned to my car. My heart physically ached, as if I had pulled muscles in my chest. I wanted to give her money but I knew I should not.
"You make him be careful with that hand and keep it clean," I said to her as I opened the door to my Chevrolet.
"And you need to get him to a doctor. Do you have a doctor here?" She shook her head.
"You get your mother to find him one. Someone at the Burger Hut can tell her. Will you do that?" She looked at me and took my hand.
"Deborah, you can call me at the Travel-Eze. I don't have the number, but it's in the phone book. Here's my card so you can remember my name."
"Thar don't have a phone," she said, watching me intently as she held on to my hand.
"I know you don't. But if you needed to call, you could find a pay phone, couldn't you?" She nodded.
A car was coming up the hill.
"Thar's thar mother."
"How old are you, Deborah?"
"Eleven."
"Do you go to the public school here in Black Mountain?" I asked, shocked to think she was Emily's age. She nodded again.
"Did you know Emily Steiner?"
"Thar was ahead of thar."
"You weren't in the same grade?"
"No." She let go of my hand. The car, an ancient heap of a Ford with a headlight out, rumbled past, and I caught a glimpse of the woman looking our way. I would never forget the weariness of that flaccid face with its sunken mouth and hair in a net. Deborah loped after her mother, and I shut my door.
I took a long hot bath when I got back to the motel and thought about getting something to eat. But when I looked at the room service menu I found myself staring mindlessly and decided instead to read for a while. The telephone startled me awake at half past ten.
"Yes?"
"Kay?" It was Wesley.
"I need to talk to you. It's very important."
"I'll come to your room."
I went straight there and knocked on the door.
"It's Kay," I said.
"Hold on." His voice sounded from the other side.
A pause, and the door opened. His face confirmed that something was terribly wrong.
"What is it?" I walked in.
"It's Lucy." He shut the door, and I judged by the desk that he had spent most of the afternoon on the phone. Notes were scattered everywhere. His tie was on the bed, his shirt untucked.
"She's been in an accident," he said.
"What?" My blood went cold.
He shut the door and was very distracted.
"Is she all right?" I could not think.
"It happened earlier this evening on Ninety-five just north of Richmond. She'd apparently been at Quantico and went out to eat and then drove back. She ate at the Outback. You know, the Australian steakhouse in northern Virginia? We know she stopped in Hanover at the gun store-at Green Top-and it was after she left there that she had the accident." He paced as he talked.
"Benton, is she all right?" I could not move.
"She's at MCV. It was pretty bad, Kay."
"Oh my God."
"Apparently she ran off the road at the Atlee/Elmont exit and over corrected When the tags came back to you, the state police called your office from the scene and the service got Fielding to track you down. He called me because he didn't want you to get the news over the phone. Well, the point is, since he's a medical examiner he was afraid of what your first reaction would be if he started to tell you that Lucy had just been in an accident" - "Benton!"
"I'm sorry." He put his hands on my shoulders.
"Jesus. I'm not good at this when it's… Well, when it's you. She's got some cuts and a concussion. It's a damn miracle she's alive. The car flipped several times. Your car. It's totaled. They had to cut her out of it and Medflight her in. To be honest, they thought by the look of the wreck that it wasn't survivable. It's just unbelievable she's okay."
I closed my eyes and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Was she drinking?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Tell me the rest of it."
"She's been charged with driving under the influence. They took her blood alcohol at the hospital and it's high. I'm not sure how high."
"And no one else was hurt?"
"No other car was involved."
"Thank God." He sat next to me and rubbed my neck.
"It's a wonder she made it as far as she did without incident. She'd had a lot to drink when she was out to dinner, I guess." He put his arm around me and pulled me close.
"I've already booked a flight for you."
"What was she doing at Green Top?"
"She purchased a
gun. A Sig Sauer P230. They found it in the car."
"I have to get back to Richmond now."
"There isn't anything until early in the morning, Kay. It can wait until then."
"I'm cold," I said. He got his suit jacket and put it over my shoulders. I began to shiver. The terror I'd felt when I saw Wesley's face and felt the tension in his tone brought back the night when he had called about Mark.
I had known the instant I'd heard Wesley's voice on the line that his news was very bad, and then he had begun to explain about the bombing in London, about Mark being in the train station walking past at the very moment it happened, and it had nothing to do with him, wasn't directed at him, but he was dead. Grief was like a seizure that shook me like a storm. It left me spent in a way I had never known before, not even when my father had died. I could not react back then, when I was young, when my mother was weeping and everything seemed lost.
"It will be all right," Wesley said, and now he was up pouring me a drink.
"What else do you know about it?"
"Nothing else, Kay. Here, this will help." He handed me a Scotch straight up. Had there been a cigarette in the room, I would have put it between my lips and lit it. I would have ended my abstinence and forgotten my resolve just like that.
"Do you know who her doctor is? Where are the cuts? Did the air bags deploy?" He began kneading my neck again and did not answer my questions because he had already made it clear he knew nothing more. I drank the Scotch quickly because I needed to feel it.
"I will go in the morning, then," I said. His fingers worked their way up into my hair and felt wonderful. My eyes were shut as I began to talk to him about my afternoon. I told him about my visit in the hospital with Lieutenant Mote. I told him about the people on Rainbow Mountain, about the girl who knew no pronouns and Creed, who knew that Emily Steiner had not taken the shortcut around the lake after her youth group meeting at the church.
"It's so sad, because I could see it as he was telling me," I went on, thinking of her diary.
"She was supposed to meet Wren early and of course he did not show. Then he ignored her completely, so she didn't wait until the meeting was over. She ran ahead of everyone else.
"She hurried off because she was hurt and humiliated and didn't want anyone to know. Creed just happened to be out in his truck and saw her, and wanted to make sure she got home okay because he could tell she was upset. He liked her from afar just as she liked Wren from afar. And now she's horribly dead. It seems this is all about people loving people who don't love them back. It's about hurt getting passed on."
"Murder is always about that, really."
"Where's Marino?"
"I don't know."
"What he's doing is all wrong. He knows better than this."
"I think he's gotten involved with Denesa Steiner."
"I know he has."
"I can see how it would happen. He's lonely, had no luck with women, and in fact hasn't even had a clue about women since Doris left. Denesa Steiner's devastated, needy, appeals to his bruised male ego. "
"Apparently, she has a lot of money."
"Yes."
"How did that happen? I thought her late husband taught school."
"I understand his family had a lot of money. They made it in oil or something out west. You're going to have to pass on the details of your encounter with Creed Lindsey. It's not going to look good for him."
I knew that.
"I can imagine how you feel about it, Kay. But I'm not even sure I'm comfortable with what you've told me. It bothers me that he followed her in his truck and had his headlights off. It bothers me that he knew where she lived and had been so aware of her at school. It bothers me a great deal that he visited the spot where her body was found and left the candy."
"Why was the skin in Ferguson's freezer? How does Creed Lindsey fit with that?"
"Either Ferguson put the skin in there or someone else did. It's as simple as that. And I don't think Ferguson did it."
"Why not?"
"He doesn't profile right. And you know that, too."
"And Gault?"
Wesley did not answer.
I looked up at him, for I had learned to feel his silence. I could follow it like the cool walls of a cave.
"You're not telling me something," I said.
"We've just gotten a call from London. We think he's killed again, this time there."
I shut my eyes.
"Dear God, no."
"This time a boy. Fourteen. Killed within the past few days."
"Same MO as Eddie Heath?"
"Eradicated bite marks. Gunshot to the head, body displayed. Close enough."
"That doesn't mean Gault wasn't in Black Mountain," I said as my doubts grew.
"At this moment we can't say it doesn't mean that. Gault could be anywhere. But I don't know about him anymore. There are many similarities between the Eddie Heath and Emily Steiner cases. But there are many differences."
"There are differences because this case is different," I said.
"And I don't think Creed Lindsey put the skin in Ferguson's freezer."
"Listen, we don't know why that was there. We don't know that someone didn't leave it on his doorstep and Ferguson found it the minute he got home from the airport. He put it in the freezer like any good investigator would, and didn't live long enough to tell anyone."
"You're suggesting Creed waited until Ferguson got home and then delivered it?"
"I'm suggesting the police are going to consider Creed left it."
"Why would he do that?"
"Remorse."
"Whereas Gault would do it to jerk us around."
"Absolutely."
I was silent for a moment. Then I said, "If Creed did all this, then how do you explain Denesa Steiner's print on the panties Ferguson was wearing?"
"If he had a fetish about wearing women's clothing when he did his auto erotic thing, he could have stolen them. He was in and out of her house while he was working Emily's case. He could have taken lingerie from her very easily. And wearing something of hers while he masturbated added to the fantasy."
"Is that really what you think?"
"I really don't know what I think. I'm throwing these things out at you because I know what's going to happen. I know what Marino will think. Creed Lindsey is a suspect. In fact, what he told you about following Emily Steiner gives us probable cause to search his house and truck. If we find anything, and if Mrs. Steiner thinks he looks or sounds like the man who broke into her house that night. Creed's going to be charged with capital murder."
"What about the forensic evidence?" I said.
"Have the labs come back with anything more?" Wesley got up and tucked his shirttail in as he talked.
"We've traced the blaze orange duct tape to Attica Correctional Facility in New York. Apparently, some prison administrator got tired of duct tape walking off and decided to have some specially made that would be less convenient to steal.
"So he picked blaze orange, which was also the color of the clothes the inmates wore. Since the tape was used inside the penitentiary to repair things like mattresses, for example, it was essential that it be flame-retardant. Shuford Mills made one run of the stuff-I think around eight hundred cases-back in 1986. "
"That's very weird."
"As for the trace evidence on the adhesive of the strips used to bind Denesa Steiner, the residue is a varnish that's consistent with the varnish on the dresser in her bedroom. And that's pretty much what you would expect, since he bound her in her bedroom. So that information is relatively useless."
"Gault was never incarcerated at Attica, was he?" I asked. Wesley was putting on his tie in front of the mirror.
"No. But that wouldn't preclude his getting hold of the tape in another way. Someone could have given it to him. He did have a close friendship with the warden when the state pen was in Richmond-the warden he later murdered. I suppose it's worth checking that out, in the event some of th
e tape somehow ended up there."
"Are we going somewhere?" I asked as he slipped a fresh handkerchief into his back pocket and his pistol into a holster on his belt.
"I'm taking you out to dinner."
"What if I don't want to go?"
"You will."
"You're awfully sure of yourself." He leaned over and kissed me as he removed his jacket from my shoulders.
"I don't want you by yourself right now." He put the jacket on and looked very handsome in his precise, somber way. We found a big brightly lit truck stop that featured everything from T-bones to a Chinese buffet. I ate egg drop soup and steamed rice because I did not feel well. Men in denim and boots heaped ribs and pork and shrimp in thick orange sauces on their plates and stared at us as if we were from Oz. My fortune cookie warned of fair-weather friends while Wesley's promised marriage. Marino was waiting for us at the motel when we got back at shortly after midnight. I told him what I knew and he was not happy about it.
"I wish you hadn't gone up there," he said. We were in Wesley's room.
"It's not your place to be interviewing people."
"I am authorized to investigate any violent death fully and to ask any questions I wish. It's ridiculous for you to even say such a thing, Marino. You and I have worked together for years."
"We're a team, Pete," Wesley said.
"That's what the unit's all about. It's why we're here. Listen, I don't mean to be a hardass, but I can't let you smoke in my room. " He put his pack and lighter back into his pocket.
"Denesa's told me Emily used to complain about Creed."
"She knows the police are looking for him?" Wesley asked.
"She's not in town," he evasively replied.
"Where is she?"
"She's got a sick sister in Maryland and went up there for a few days. My point is. Creed gave Emily the creeps. "
I envisioned Creed on the mattress sewing up his thumb. I saw his crooked stare and pasty face, and I was not surprised that he might have frightened a little girl.
"A lot of questions still aren't answered," I said.
"Yeah, well, a lot of questions have been answered," Marino countered.
"To think that Creed Lindsey did this doesn't make sense," I said.
"It's making more sense every day."
"I wonder if he has a television in his house," Wesley said.
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