by Karen Rose
“In the bedroom Alex told us used to be hers, right under the window.”
“She stared at her hands when Gary Fulmore talked about the ring Alicia wore,” Daniel said quietly. “Gary said it was on Alicia’s hand when he wrapped her up, but Wanda in the sheriff’s office said they found it in Fulmore’s pocket.”
“If the ring was on her finger when she was discovered, the Dutton sheriff’s office tampered with evidence,” Chase said, just as quietly.
Daniel sighed. “I know. We need to know if that ring was on her finger when she was found or not. I’m going down to Dutton this morning to talk to Garth and his uncle about Sean Romney’s death. I’ll stop by and talk to the Porter boys while I’m there. They found Alicia. I’ll see if I can find out if they remember a ring. Luke, will you process all the names Leigh got from the yearbooks?”
Luke looked at the printouts their clerk had produced the day before with a grimace. “Where do you want me to start?”
“For now, focus on the public school where Simon, Wade, and Rhett graduated and the private school where Garth and I graduated. See if any of them have records or histories of violent behavior. See if any of them have been… I don’t know, involved in anything weird.”
Luke gave him a dubious look. “Weird. Okay.”
“And I’ll finish calling all the potential targets I didn’t talk to yesterday,” Chase said with a sigh. “Maybe we can head him off at the pass before he bags another one.”
Dutton, Thursday, February 1, 8:35 a.m.
He stepped onto his front porch, bone-tired after another night of watching over Kate. He’d actually fallen asleep sometime after 4:00 a.m. When he’d woken, the sun was shining and Kate was pulling out of her driveway to go to work. She’d nearly seen him, and then he would have had to explain. Given the three dead women, he could probably just say he was worried, but Kate was too smart for that. She’d suspect more.
This had to be over soon. One way or the other. His wife met him at the door, her eyes red from weeping, and his heart started to race. “What happened?”
“Your uncle Rob’s here. He’s been waiting for you since six. Sean’s dead.”
“What? Sean’s dead? When? How?”
She looked at him, her lips trembling. “Who did you expect to be dead?”
He hung his head, too exhausted to think. “Kate.”
She let out a quiet breath. “Rob’s in the library.”
His uncle sat by the window, his face gray and haggard. “Where have you been?”
He took the chair next to Rob. “Watching over Kate. What happened?”
“They found him in an alley.” His voice broke. “They couldn’t even identify him at first. There was too much blood on his face. The police said they’d been looking for Sean, that they’d put his picture on the news. My grandson, on the news.”
“Why were they looking for him?”
Rob’s eyes filled with rage. “Because,” he gritted out, “they said they had proof he was helping the person who killed Claudia Silva and Janet Bowie and Gemma Martin.”
“And Lisa Woolf,” his wife added from the library doorway. “I just saw it on CNN.”
Rob turned to him, bitterness in every line of his face. “And Lisa Woolf. So you tell me what you know. And you tell me now.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know anything.”
Rob lurched to his feet. “You lie! I know you lie.” He pointed a trembling finger. “You wire a hundred thousand dollars to an offshore account Tuesday night. Then yesterday I get a visitor in the bank, checking out Rhett Porter’s safe-deposit box.”
He felt the color drain from his face. Still, he lifted his chin. “So?”
“So, when he left he said, ‘Tell Garth I have it.’ What does he mean?”
“You paid someone a hundred thousand dollars?” His wife’s expression was one of stunned shock. “We don’t have that kind of money, Garth.”
“He took it from the kids’ college fund,” Rob said coldly.
His wife’s mouth dropped open. “You sonofabitch. I have taken a lot from you over the years, but now you steal from your own children?”
It was unraveling. All of it. “He threatened Kate.”
“Who?” Rob demanded.
“Whoever’s killing all these women. He threatened Kate and Rhett. So I paid to keep Kate alive. The next morning Rhett was dead.” He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. “And to keep Kate safe, I’ll pay again.”
“You will not,” his wife screeched. “My God, Garth, are you crazy?”
“No,” he said quietly. “I’m not crazy. Rhett is dead.”
“And you think this guy killed him,” Rob said calmly. “Like he killed Sean.”
“I didn’t know about Sean,” he said. “I swear. He didn’t send Sean’s picture.”
Rob lowered himself to the chair. “He sent you pictures,” he said thinly.
“Yes. Of Kate. And Rhett.” He hesitated. “And of others.”
His wife slowly sat on the loveseat. “We have to tell the police,” she said.
He laughed bitterly. “That we definitely will not do.”
“He could come after our children. Have you considered that?”
“In the last five minutes? Yes. Before I heard about Sean, no.”
“You know why this killer is doing all this,” Rob said coldly. “You will tell me and you will tell me now.”
He shook his head. “No, I won’t.”
Rob’s eyes narrowed. “And why not?”
“Because I don’t know who killed Rhett.”
“Garth, what’s going on here?” his wife whispered. “Why can’t we go to the police?”
“I’m not going to tell you. Believe me, you’re safer not knowing.”
“You don’t care about our safety. You’ve gotten yourself sucked into some mess that involves us. Me and your children. So don’t give me that… bullshit. Tell me or I’m walking out of here and going to the police right now.”
She was serious. She would go to the police. “Do you remember Jared O’Brien?”
“He disappeared,” Rob said, his voice flat and detached.
“Well, yeah. He probably got drunk and ran himself off a road one night and…” She went pale. “Like Rhett. Oh my God. Garth, what have you done?”
He didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer.
“Whatever it was, someone’s coming after you because of it,” Rob said. “If it was only you, I’d let them. But by God, this is destroying my family. We all know Sean wasn’t as bright as the rest of you. He used him, used him and killed him to send you a message.” He stood. “No more, Garth.”
He looked up at his uncle. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Are you going to the police?” his wife asked, crying now.
Rob scoffed. “Not in this town.”
Garth stood. Looked his uncle in the eye. “I wouldn’t say anything if I were you, Rob.”
Rob’s eyes narrowed to slits. “And why not?”
“You have a few hours? Actually, it would only take me a few minutes. A few well-placed calls and you’ll have a bank examiner down your shorts so fast…”
Rob’s pale face mottled with angry color. “You have the nerve to threaten me?”
“I have the nerve to do anything I need to do,” he said calmly.
His wife covered her mouth with her hand. “I don’t believe this. This is a nightmare.”
He nodded. “True. But if you keep your mouth shut and your head down, we just might live to wake up when it’s over.”
Atlanta, Thursday, February 1, 9:15 a.m.
The little room with the two-way mirror was quiet as they sat waiting for Dr. McCrady. Alex propped her elbow on the table, leaned her cheek on her fist, and watched Hope color. “At least she’s using other colors now,” she murmured.
Meredith looked up, a sad smile on her face. “Black and blue. We make progress.”
“Alex,” Meredith warned.
“You didn’t see them pull that woman from the ditch this morning,” Alex shot back, her voice shaking with fury. “I did. My God. Including Sheila, five women are dead. This has to stop. Hope, I need to talk to you and I need you to listen.” She tugged at Hope’s chin until the child’s hand stilled and wide gray eyes looked up at her. “Hope, did you see who hurt your mommy? Please. Sweetheart, I need to know.”
Hope looked away and Alex tugged her face back, desperation clawing at her throat. “Hope, Sister Anne told me how smart you are, how many words you know, and how well you talk. I need you to talk to me now. You’re smart enough to know your mommy’s gone. I can’t find her.” Alex’s voice broke. “You have to talk to me so I can find her. Did you see the man who took your mommy away?”
Slowly Hope nodded. “It was dark,” she whispered, her voice tiny.
“Were you in bed?”
Hope wagged her head no, misery filling her eyes. “I snuck out.”
“Why?”
“I heard the man.”
“The man that hurt her?”
“He left and she cried.”
“Did he hit her?”
“He left and she cried,” she said again. “And played.”
“With toys?” Alex asked.
“The flute.” The words were only a breath.
Alex frowned. “Your mom played a big shiny horn. That’s different than a flute.”
Hope’s mouth set stubbornly. “The flute.”
Meredith put a blank piece of paper in front of Hope. “Draw it for me, baby.”
Hope picked up her black crayon and drew a round face in a childish style. She added eyes, nose, and a thin rectangle that went sideways from where the mouth would have gone. She then chose a silver crayon from the box and colored the thin rectangle.
She looked up at Alex. “Flute,” she said.
“It is indeed a flute,” Meredith said. “That’s a good picture, Hope.”
Alex hugged Hope. “It’s a wonderful picture. What happened to the flute?”
Hope’s eyes dropped again. “She played the song.”
“Your pa-paw’s song. Then what happened?”
“We runned.” Her words were barely audible.
Alex’s heart was thumping hard. “Where did you run?”
“The woods.” Hope whispered it, then scrunched into the smallest space she could.
Alex lifted Hope to her lap and rocked her. “In the woods, were you with Mommy?”
Hope began to cry, with a low mewling sound that tore at Alex’s heart. “I’m here, Hope. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Why did you run to the woods?”
“The man.”
“Where did you hide?”
“The tree.”
“Up a tree?”
“Under the leaves.”
Alex drew a breath. “Mommy covered you with leaves?”
“Mama.” It was a frightened little plea.
“He hurt your mama?” Alex whispered. “The man hurt your mama?”
“She runned.” Hope’s hands clutched Alex’s blouse frantically. “He was coming, so she runned. He g-g-got her and he hit her and hit her and-” Hope was rocking as she chanted the words. Now that she was talking she seemed unable to stop.
Unable to listen to any more, Alex cupped the back of Hope’s head and pressed Hope’s mouth into her shoulder while the child sobbed. Meredith’s arms came around her and they sat, listening to Hope’s choked sobs. “Bailey hid Hope so he wouldn’t find her,” Alex whispered. “I wonder how long you stayed under those leaves, baby.”
Hope said nothing, just rocked and sobbed until finally she quieted, breathing hard, her little forehead covered in sweat, her cheeks drenched. The front of Alex’s blouse was soaking wet and Hope still clutched the fabric in her hands. Alex shifted her, prying her fists away, cradling her.
The door behind them opened and Daniel and Mary McCrady came in, looking sober. “You heard?” Alex said, and Daniel nodded.
“I came into the back room when she started drawing the flute. I called Mary.”
“I was already on my way for our session.” Mary brushed her hand over Hope’s hair. “That was hard, Hope, but I’m so proud of you. So’s your aunt Alex.”
Hope burrowed her face into Alex’s chest and Alex’s arms tightened around her protectively. “Can she be done for now?”
“Yes,” Mary said, sympathy on her face. “You hold her for a while. But let’s not wait too long, okay? I think we might be able to get somewhere with the artist now.”
“A little longer,” Alex insisted. She looked up at Daniel, whose eyes were resting on her in an almost palpable caress. Then he spread his big hand over Hope’s thin back in a gesture so tender it stole her breath.
“You did well, Hope,” he said softly. “But, honey, can I ask you one more question? It’s important,” he added, more for her own benefit, Alex thought, than for Hope’s.
Hope nodded, her face still pressed against Alex’s chest.
“What happened to your mommy’s flute?”
Hope shuddered. “In the leaves,” she said, her voice muffled.
“Okay, sweetheart,” Daniel said. “That’s all I needed to know. I’m going to have Ed go over that area in the woods again. I’ll be back in a little while.”
Atlanta, Thursday, February 1, 9:15 a.m.
Daniel had barely hung up after talking to Ed when Leigh appeared in his doorway.
“Daniel, you have a visitor. Michael Bowie, Janet’s brother. He’s not happy.”
“Where is Chase? He’s supposed to be handling communications.”
“Chase is in a meeting with the captain. You want me to tell Bowie you’re not here?”
Daniel shook his head. “No. I’ll come talk to him.”
Michael Bowie looked like exactly what he was-a man whose sister had been viciously murdered days before. He stopped pacing when Daniel stopped at the counter. “Daniel.”
“Michael. What can I do for you?”
“You can tell me you’ve found the man who killed my sister.”
Daniel steeled his spine. “No, I can’t. We’re following leads.”
“You’ve been saying that for days,” Michael gritted.
“I’m sorry. Have you thought of anyone who hated Janet enough to do this?”
Michael’s ferocity seemed to wilt. “No. At times Janet was selfish and arrogant. Sometimes she could be devious and just plain mean. But nobody hated her. She and Claudia and Gemma… They were just girls. They didn’t do anything to deserve this.”
“I’m not saying they deserved this, Michael,” Daniel said gently. “But someone has targeted Janet and the girls she knew.” To be pawns in a bigger game. “Anything you can remember. Any person she’d annoyed.”
Michael made a frustrated noise. “You want a list? The girls were spoiled and probably pissed people off every day of their lives. But this. They did nothing to deserve this.”
Michael was grieving, Daniel knew. That the girls hadn’t deserved their fate was a break in logic he couldn’t yet absorb. He would, in time. Victims’ families usually did.
“I can’t tell you what you want to hear, Michael. Not yet. But we will catch him.”
Michael nodded stiffly. “You’ll call me?”
“As soon as I have news to share. I promise you that.”
Chapter Twenty
Atlanta , Thursday, February 1, 10:15 a.m.
I can take her, Alex,” Meredith said, looking up from her laptop. “You haven’t moved from that position in an hour. Your arms have to be breaking by now.”
Still sitting at the table in the room with the two-way mirror, Alex pulled Hope a little closer. “She’s not that heavy.” Even asleep, Hope grabbed at Alex’s shirt as if she was afraid Alex would leave her. “I should have been with her all this time,” Alex murmured.
“Ideally, yes,” Meredith said logically. “But this is far from ideal. You’ve been looking for Bailey. You needed to see Fulmore and all the other people, so stop feeling guilty.”
But as she held Hope, Alex knew it was more than simple guilt. She’d been quick to accept the responsibility for Hope’s physical care and safety, but until Hope had sobbed against her, she hadn’t opened her heart to this little girl who’d needed her. She hadn’t opened her heart to many people over the years. Certainly not to Richard, and if she was honest, not even to Bailey. Again, she’d been quick to offer help to get Bailey into rehab, but she hadn’t offered her heart.
Maybe she hadn’t known how. Deep down she was afraid she still didn’t. But then the door opened and Daniel came in, and every dark and heavy thing inside her heart lightened at the sight of him. Maybe there was hope for her after all. It was a light in the midst of all the darkness.
“Is it time for Hope to go with Mary?” she asked softly, but he shook his head.
“Not yet. I didn’t mean to make you wait here so long. There’s a sofa in the break room. Hope can sleep there until Mary comes back.”
Alex started to rise, Hope in her arms, but Daniel stopped her. “I’ll take her.” And he did, holding Hope much like he’d held Riley the night before. Hope didn’t wake, though she snuggled against him, and Alex was hit with a wave of longing so strong it almost knocked her over.
This is what I want. This child. This man. She stood unsteadily, a wave of panic following in the wake of the longing. What if he doesn’t want the same? What if I can’t give him what he needs?
Meredith was watching her with a frown. “Come on.” She put her arm around Alex’s shoulders as they followed Daniel.
Daniel stopped at the sofa in the break room, Hope nestled on his shoulder. He gently rocked from side to side, his brows bunched, his mind obviously somewhere else. Alex was certain he didn’t realize what a picture he made, strong golden-haired man holding the small golden-haired child.
He settled Hope on the sofa and shrugged out of his jacket to cover her, then glanced at Alex and gave her that half smile. “Sorry, my mind wandered.”
“Where did it go?” she said, her voice low.