by Karen Rose
“Miss Fallon?” the woman prompted.
Alex wrenched her focus back. “Bailey. That is who you’re calling about, isn’t it?”
“Actually I’m calling about Hope.”
“Hope.” Alex repeated it blankly. “I don’t understand. Hope what?”
“Hope Crighton, Bailey’s daughter. Your niece.”
Alex sat down, stunned. “I didn’t know Bailey had a daughter.” That poor child.
“Oh. Then you didn’t know that you’re listed as the emergency contact on all of Hope’s registration forms at her preschool.”
“No.” Alex drew a bolstering breath. “Is Bailey dead, Ms. Barker?”
“I hope not, but we don’t know where she is. She didn’t show up for work this morning and one of her coworkers went to her house to check on her. The coworker found Hope curled up in a little ball in a closet.”
Sick dread settled in Alex’s gut, but she kept her voice calm. “And Bailey was gone.”
“The last anyone saw her was last night when she picked Hope up from preschool.”
Preschool. The child was old enough for preschool and Alex had no idea she’d even existed. Oh, Bailey, what have you done? “And Hope? Was she hurt?”
“Not physically, but she’s scared. Very scared. She’s not talking to anyone.”
“Where is she?”
“Right now she’s in emergency foster care.” Nancy Barker sighed. “Well, if you’re not going to take her, I’ll line up a permanent foster family for her.”
“I’ll take her.” The words were out of Alex’s mouth before she even knew she planned to say them. But once said, she knew it was the right thing to do.
“You didn’t even know she existed until five minutes ago,” Barker protested.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m her aunt. I’ll take her.” Like Kim took me. And saved my life. “I’ll get there as soon as I can arrange leave from my job and buy a plane ticket.”
Alex hung up, turned, and walked into Letta, whose brows were nearly off her forehead. Alex knew she’d been listening. “Well? Can I have the leave?”
Letta’s eyes were filled with worry. “Do you have vacation saved up?”
“Six weeks. I haven’t taken a day in more than three years.” There hadn’t been reason to. Richard never had time to go anywhere. He’d always been working.
“Then start out with vacation,” Letta said. “I’ll get somebody to cover your shifts. But, Alex, you know nothing about this child. Maybe she has a disability or special needs.”
“I’ll cope,” Alex said. “She has no one, and she’s family. I won’t abandon her.”
“Like her mother did.” Letta tilted her head. “Like your mother did you.”
Alex fought the wince, keeping her face impassive. Her past was only a few clicks away from anyone with Google. But Letta did mean well, so Alex made her lips curve. “I’ll call you when I get down there and find out more. Thanks, Letta.”
Arcadia , Georgia , Sunday, January 28, 4:05 p.m.
“Welcome back, Danny boy,” Special Agent Daniel Vartanian murmured to himself as he got out of his car and surveyed the scene. He’d only been gone two weeks, but it had been an eventful two weeks. It was time to get back to work, back to his life. Which in Daniel’s case meant the same thing. Work was his life, and death was his work.
Avenging death, that was. Not causing it. He thought of the past two weeks, of all the death, all the lives destroyed. It was enough to drive a man insane, if he let it. Daniel didn’t intend to let it. He’d go back to his life, finding justice for one victim at a time. He’d make a difference. It was the only way he knew to… atone.
The victim this day was a woman. She’d been found in a ditch on the side of the road, which was now lined with law enforcement vehicles of all shapes and functions.
The crime lab was already here, as was the ME. Daniel stopped at the edge of the road where someone had strung yellow crime scene tape and peered down into the ditch where the body lay, a tech from the ME’s office crouched by her side. She’d been wrapped in a brown blanket that had been pulled away just enough to do the exam. Daniel could see she had dark hair and was perhaps five foot six. She was nude and her face was… damaged. He’d lifted one leg over the tape when a voice stopped him.
“Stop, sir. This area is off limits.”
Straddling the tape, Daniel looked over his shoulder to where a young, earnest-faced officer stood, one hand on his weapon. “I’m Special Agent Daniel Vartanian, Georgia Bureau of Investigation.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Vartanian? You mean-I mean-” He took a breath and straightened abruptly. “I’m sorry, sir. I was just surprised, that’s all.”
Daniel nodded, giving the young man a kind smile. “I understand.” He didn’t like it, but he did understand. The name Vartanian had gotten quite a bit of publicity in the week since his brother Simon’s death, none of it good, all of it deserved. Simon Vartanian had taken seventeen lives in Philadelphia -two of those victims his own parents. The story had made every newspaper in the country. It would be a long time before the name Vartanian could be said without a wide-eyed response. “Where can I find the sheriff?”
The officer pointed about forty feet down the road. “That’s Sheriff Corchran.”
“Thanks, Officer.” Daniel pulled his leg back over the tape and started walking again, conscious of the officer’s eyes following him. In two minutes everyone here would know a Vartanian was on the scene. Daniel hoped he could keep the hubbub to a minimum. This wasn’t about him or any other Vartanian, it was about that woman lying in the ditch wrapped in a brown blanket. She had family somewhere, people who would be missing her. People who would need justice and closure to get on with their lives.
Daniel had once thought justice and closure to be the same thing, that knowing a perpetrator had been caught and punished for his crimes closed the book on a painful chapter in the lives of the victims and their families. Now, hundreds of crimes, victims, and families later, he understood that every crime created a ripple effect, touched lives in ways that could never be measured. Simply knowing evil had been punished wasn’t always enough to allow one to move on. Daniel knew all about that, too.
“Daniel.” It was a surprised greeting from Ed Randall, head of the crime lab team. “I didn’t know you were back.”
“Just today.” It was supposed to have been tomorrow, but having been away for two weeks, Daniel was next in the barrel for an assignment. When this call had come in, his boss had called him back in early. He stuck out his hand to the sheriff. “Sheriff Corchran, I’m Special Agent Vartanian, GBI. We’ll provide any support you request.”
The sheriff’s eyes widened as he shook Daniel’s hand. “Any relation to…?”
God help me, yes. He made himself smile. “I’m afraid so.”
Corchran studied him shrewdly. “You ready to be back?”
No. Daniel kept his voice level. “Yes. If it’s a problem, I can request someone else.”
Corchran seemed to consider it and Daniel waited, keeping his temper carefully locked down. It wasn’t right, wasn’t fair, but being judged by his family’s deeds was his reality. Finally Corchran shook his head. “No, you don’t need to do that. We’re good.”
Daniel’s temper settled and again he made himself smile. “Good. So can you tell me what happened? Who discovered the body and when?”
“Today was our annual Cycle Challenge and this road is part of the course. One of the cyclists noticed the blanket. He didn’t want to lose the race, so he called 911 and kept cycling. I have him waiting at the finish line if you need to talk to him.”
“I’ll want to talk to him, yes. Did anyone else stop?”
“No, we got lucky,” Ed Randall said. “We had an undisturbed scene when we got here and no crowd watching-they were all at the finish line.”
“That doesn’t happen very often. Who was first on the scene from your department, Sheriff?” Daniel asked.
“Larkin. He lifted only a corner of the blanket to see her face.” Corchran’s stony face flinched, a telling sign. “I immediately called you guys. We don’t have the resources to investigate a scene like this.”
Daniel acknowledged the final statement with a nod. He appreciated sheriffs like Corchran who were willing to bring in the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. So many were territorial, viewing any GBI involvement as… a swarm of locusts descending on their town. Yes, that’s how the sheriff of Daniel’s hometown had put it only two weeks ago. “We’ll work with you in whatever capacity you choose, Sheriff.”
“For now, take it all,” Corchran said. “My department is at your disposal.” His jaw squared. “We haven’t had a murder in Arcadia in the ten years since I’ve been in office. We want to see whoever did that go away for a long time.”
“We do, too.” Daniel turned to Ed. “So what do you know?”
“She was killed somewhere else and dumped here. Her body was found wrapped in a brown blanket.”
“Like a shroud,” Daniel murmured and Ed nodded.
“Just like. The blanket appears to be new, it’s some wool blend. Her face was beaten badly and there was bruising around her mouth. The ME can give you more on that. There’s no sign of struggle down there and no footprints up or down the slope.”
Daniel frowned and looked down into the ditch. It was a drainage ditch and the water ran down to the storm sewer about a hundred yards away. The sides were smooth mud. “Then he must have walked through the water to the storm sewer, then up to the road.” He considered it a moment. “This bike race. Was it widely publicized?”
Corchran nodded. “This is a big fund-raiser for the local youth clubs, so the boosters put flyers in towns fifty miles away. Besides, we’ve had this race on the last Sunday in January for more than ten years. We get bikers from up north who want to ride where it’s warmer. It’s a pretty big deal.”
“Then he wanted her to be found,” Daniel said.
“Daniel.” The ME techs came over the crime scene tape. One of them went straight to their rig and the other stopped next to Ed. “Good to see you back.”
“Good to be back, Malcolm. What do you know?”
Malcolm Zuckerman stretched his back. “That it’s going to be fun getting the body out of that ditch. The incline’s steep and the mud’s slick. Trey’s gonna jerry-rig a crane.”
“Malcolm,” Daniel said with exaggerated patience. Malcolm was always complaining about his back or weather conditions or something. “What do you know about the victim?”
“Female, Caucasian, mid-twenties most likely. She’s been dead about two days. Cause of death appears to be asphyxiation. Bruising on her buttocks and inner thighs indicates sexual assault. Her face has been beaten with a blunt object. Don’t know what yet, but it caused significant damage to her facial structure. Nose, cheekbones, jaw are all broken.” He frowned. “The beating of her face may have been postmortem.”
Daniel lifted a brow. “So he wanted her to be found, but not identified.”
“That’s what I’m thinkin’. I’m betting we won’t find her prints in the system. There is a pattern of bruises to the side of her mouth, could be from her assailant’s fingers.”
“He held his hand over her mouth until she smothered,” Corchran muttered, his jaw clenched. “Then pounded her face to pulp. Sonofabitch.”
“That’s what it looks like,” Malcolm said, sympathy in his voice, but a weariness in his eyes Daniel more than understood. Too many bodies, too many sonsofbitches. “We’ll get more once the doc does the examination. You done with me, Danny?”
“Yeah. Call me when you do the autopsy. I want to be there.”
Malcolm shrugged. “Suit yourself. Doc Berg will probably start after Three-M.”
“What’s Three-M?” Corchran asked as Malcolm went back to the ME rig to wait.
“Morgue morning meeting,” Daniel told him. “That means Dr. Berg will probably start the autopsy at nine-thirty or ten. You’re welcome if you want to watch.”
Corchran swallowed. “Thanks. I will if I can.”
Corchran looked a little green and Daniel didn’t blame him. It wasn’t easy to watch the MEs do their thing. The sound of the bone saws still made Daniel queasy after years of autopsies. “That’s fine. What else, Ed?”
“We got shots of all the area around the body and on both sides of the ditch,” Ed said. “Video and still. We’ll search this side of the ditch first so Malcolm won’t destroy anything getting her out of here, then we’ll set up the lights and search the rest.” He waved at his team and they headed over the tape. Ed started to follow, then hesitated before drawing Daniel aside. “I’m sorry about your parents, Daniel,” he said quietly. “I know there’s nothing I can say. I just wanted you to know.”
Daniel dropped his eyes to the ground, caught off balance. Ed was sorry Arthur and Connie Vartanian were dead. Daniel wasn’t sure he could be. Some days Daniel wasn’t sure his parents hadn’t brought a large measure of their doom on themselves. Simon had been evil, but his parents had enabled his brother, in their own way.
The people Daniel felt truly sorry for were Simon’s other victims. Still… Arthur and Connie had been his parents. He could still see them lying in the Philadelphia morgue, dead at the hand of their own son. That hideous picture mixed in with all the others that haunted him, awake or asleep. So much death. So many lives destroyed. Ripples.
Daniel cleared his throat. “I saw you at the funeral. Thanks, Ed. It meant a lot.”
“If you need anything, you know where to call.” Ed gave Daniel’s shoulder a hard clap, then followed his team. Daniel turned back to Corchran, who’d been watching.
“Sheriff, I’d like to talk to Officer Larkin and have him take me down to the body the same way he approached earlier. I know he’ll do a thorough report, but I’d like to get his memory and impressions straight from him.”
“Sure. He’s stationed down the road, keeping curiosity seekers back.” Corchran radioed Larkin and in less than five minutes the officer had joined them. Larkin’s face was still a little pale, but his eyes were clear. In his hand he held a piece of paper.
“My report, Agent Vartanian. But there is one other thing. I just remembered it when I was driving back here. There was a murder just like this not far from here.”
Corchran’s brows shot up. “Where? When?”
“Before you got here,” Larkin replied. “It was thirteen years ago this April. A girl was found in a ditch just like this. She was wrapped in a brown blanket, and she’d been raped and suffocated.” He swallowed. “And her face had been beaten in, just like this.”
Daniel felt a chill race down his spine. “You seem to remember it clearly, Officer.”
Larkin looked pained. “The girl was sixteen, same age as my own daughter at the time. I don’t remember the girl’s name, but it happened outside of Dutton, which is about twenty-five miles east of here.”
The chill spread and Daniel clenched his body against a shiver. “I know where Dutton is,” he said. He knew Dutton well. He’d walked its streets, shopped in its stores, played Little League on its team. He also knew that evil had lived in Dutton and had borne the Vartanian name. Dutton, Georgia, was Daniel Vartanian’s hometown.
Larkin nodded as he put Daniel’s name with current events. “I expect you do.”
“Thank you, Officer,” Daniel said, managing to keep his voice level. “I’ll look into it as soon as possible. For now, let’s go take a look at Jane Doe.”
Dutton , Georgia , Sunday, January 28, 9:05 p.m.
Alex closed the bedroom door, then leaned against it, drained. “She’s finally asleep,” she murmured to her cousin Meredith, who sat on the sofa in the adjoining sitting room of Alex’s hotel room.
Meredith looked up from her study of the pages and pages of the coloring books four-year-old Hope Crighton had filled since Alex had taken custody of her niece from the social worker thirty-six hours before. “Then we nee
d to talk,” she said softly.
There was concern in Meredith’s eyes. Coming from a pediatric psychologist who specialized in emotionally traumatized children, this only intensified Alex’s dread.
Alex sat down. “I appreciate you coming. I know you’re busy with your patients.”
“I can get someone to take care of my patients for a day or two. I would have been here yesterday had you told me you were coming, because I would have been sitting on the plane right next to you.” There was frustration and hurt in Meredith’s voice. “What were you thinking, Alex? Coming down here all by yourself. Of all places… here.”
Here. Dutton, Georgia. The name made Alex’s stomach churn. It was the last place she’d ever wanted to come back to. But the churning in her stomach was nothing compared to the fear she’d felt when she’d first looked into Hope’s blank gray eyes.
“I don’t know,” Alex admitted. “I should have known better. But Mer, I had no idea it would be this bad, but it is as bad as I think, isn’t it?”
“From what I’ve seen in the last three hours? Yes. Whether her traumatizing event was waking up to find her mother gone on Friday or the years that came before that, I can’t say. I don’t know what Hope was like before Bailey disappeared.” Meredith frowned. “But she’s nothing like I expected her to be.”
“I know. I’d prepared myself for a dirty, malnourished child. I mean, the last time I saw Bailey, she was really bad, Meredith. High and dirty. Track marks on both arms. I’ve always wondered if I could have done something more.”
Meredith lifted an auburn brow. “So here you are?”
“No. Well, maybe it started that way, but as soon as I saw Hope, all that changed.” She thought of the little girl with the golden curls and Botticelli angel face. And empty gray eyes. “I thought for a moment they’d brought me the wrong child. She’s clean and well-fed. Her clothes and shoes were like new.”