Her thoughts were darting. She needed to go by Jack Quinn’s to make sure he was really gone. She didn’t trust that he’d left town like he’d promised he would. They’d parted ways after dumping Ava, with an agreement that she’d never see his miserable, ugly face again, but she feared he was still holed up in his house, maybe waiting for the right moment to kill her too.
She got to the exit for the bridge and turned right. The water of the Delaware River flowed beneath her—feeling the car move with the pressure of the wind made her yearn to get out, walk the overpass, just take in the lights of Philadelphia in the distance. She wanted to pull over, but there was no shoulder. Not tonight, she thought.
As she was rounding the corner onto the street where Jack lived, a figure darted into the road in front of her. She barely missed clipping them with her bumper, but they moved steadily without turning back. The hunched person, overwhelmed by a large black overcoat, streamed from view. No, this cannot be. Marie got out of her car, eyes glued to the vision that was disappearing. She knew the shape, the form, the coat instinctively. Claire.
Turning at the corner, the figure disappeared. Marie bent over for a second to catch her breath and then raced after her sister, screaming her name. But she was gone. That did not just happen. It just couldn’t be. I was there and she was dead. I’m going mad. She reached inside her coat, searching for her cell phone, her hands shaky, but she’d left it at the convent.
Oh no, no, no. Her eyes flitted between the end of the street where the figure had disappeared and the row home in front of her. Good God, no. Number ten had a dim light coming from behind the curtains. She went to the door and hesitated only a moment before rapping against the wood. There was no answer. She knocked harder and then turned the handle. The room was warm; the glow of the desk lamp gave off a dim yellowish light that made the place look dingy, like a gas-station bathroom.
She saw his leg before she knew what she was looking at. It was straight, brown shoe still on his foot. She held her breath and walked around the couch. Quinn was stretched out, his other leg at an angle. His face was turned, half in the green carpet. His lips looked bluish. Marie studied him for a full minute, the reality coming to her in pieces. She’d prayed for this, for this man to go away. But his death now opened up more questions than it answered.
Forget what you saw. It wasn’t real, she told herself as she stepped over Jack Quinn’s body. After wiping her prints off the doorknob, she headed out into the night. Get on a plane to France tomorrow. Get away from this place.
She looked up at the night sky, the stars dulled by the glare of the outdoor light but still magnificent. Then her eyes caught something lifting and blowing in the breeze. She picked it up and knew it instantly. Black, thin, filmy. The peel-off layer from the back of Polaroid film.
She held it between her fingers, trying to make sense of it. Was this taken with the same camera? How was that possible? The camera had been in the closet at the convent. She’d put it there herself for safekeeping, away from prying eyes and fingers. Was it possible that she had come here and killed Quinn and didn’t remember any of it? She’d never experienced blackouts before. Her symptoms were usually confusion, depression, despair, but she always remembered what she’d done—even if through a distant, blurry veil. But maybe the stress of the past months, of having to take Ava’s life, had pushed her to a new level of insanity.
She whispered to God, the words finally coming, a prayer of five words, a short and simple God, please help me, no.
CHAPTER 39
Russell reached the access road off Route 72 in an hour and fifteen minutes. The Pine Barrens was a stretch of green and brown twisted pine trees and sugar sand that extended across seven counties in New Jersey. Barren was an apt description. The government had designated over a million acres of this dense forestation as a national reserve. Other than a few backwoods sort of folks who’d built cabins, choosing to escape humanity, it was undisturbed and desolate. The cutoff roads through the area were tricky and treacherous. Winding dirt paths took a person farther into nowhere. There were many stories of people lost on the back roads in the Pine Barrens, stranded for days or weeks. As a kid he’d trekked these woods at night with his parents on hyped-up Halloween search-for-the-Jersey-Devil excursions. But those were tourist events, complete with lanterns and a hot-dog cookout over the fire at the end.
This was different. The always-present source of illumination that came from streetlights, taken for granted, was sorely missed a mile into the barrens. Dark didn’t describe it. When Russell’s hand went to the gearshift, he couldn’t see his fingers. The thin light from the dashboard was almost absorbed into an abyss and disappeared. Russell blew a stream of air from his mouth and felt it collect in front of him. It was so damned cold. And the darkness made it seem colder.
He checked his fuel gauge. One quarter of a tank. He hadn’t thought to stop for gas, he’d been in such a hurry to get away from Juliette and her shit show of a party that he’d just jumped in the Jeep and taken off. It would be plenty, he was sure.
His stomach was twisting. Ava’s car. Doug didn’t say he’d found Ava’s body and her car, just her car. What would she have been doing way out in the Pine Barrens? Or was her car deposited here? His tire hit a pit in the dirt road, and Russell bounced so hard his head hit the headliner. He kept moving, keeping track of his odometer. Doug had said approximately eight miles after the cutoff. It had to be coming up soon. His headlights were a beacon out here. He searched forward but saw nothing.
Where are you, Doug? His odometer read that he’d reached the eight-mile mark. Suddenly he was there and passed it. He caught the outline of something on the side of the road. A darkish mass that didn’t fit in with the landscape of endless trees. No lights. He jammed on the brakes and screeched to a stop, then backed up.
“Jesus, Russell. I thought you’d never get here.” Doug went around and opened his door.
He stepped out onto the dirt. “What the hell, Doug?” His head spun in both directions. “Where’s your car? What’re you doing out here alone?”
Doug smiled. “’Fraid of the dark? Buddy just left. Figured we could get her car out of here before they call it in again.”
“I’m glad you trusted me enough to let him leave. If I didn’t show up, you’d be screwed.”
Doug moved to Ava’s car and opened the door. “No doubts you’d get here eventually.”
“So let’s get going, then.”
“Thing is, her battery is dead.” He held up a finger. “But the key’s in the ignition.” He leaned against the car. “Let’s see if we can jump it. You have cables?”
“Yeah.”
“Somebody that lives in this backwoods paradise called it in. It’s been here for days, they said. A friend at the state police called me as a favor ’cause I put out an unofficial APB on her car. But if this weirdo calls it in again, it’s gonna be on the books. Which it really should be.” Russell nodded, but Doug didn’t see it in the dark. “Wanna talk about this? It’s not too late to make this official.”
“I should. But not tonight.”
“If something happened to her, and I mean she just didn’t purposely ditch her car back here, then this is bad, Russ. You know that. We need to start searching for a body. And if we find one, it’s official anyway. I can’t cover you for that.”
“I know.”
“Besides, you’re destroying evidence. Forensics needs to go over this—”
“I know.”
Doug rubbed his face with his hands. “You need to tell me this from the beginning. From the case that got you run over in the street in front of the courthouse to this girl.” He waved his hand around. “What’s going on with her, and why’s she missing? This isn’t nothing, Russ, and it’s too deep for you alone.”
“I’m not alone. Joanne’s involved.”
Doug pushed off the car and stood in front of his friend. His arms flew out to the sides. “Oh, you got Joanne helping you. Well,
why didn’t you tell me? Then it’s all fine.”
“Ava told Joanne before she even told me. I was stupid from the beginning and it’s too late to be smart now. Help me jump the battery and we’ll talk. Off the record.”
The Honda Accord was idling smoothly. The gas tank read three-quarters full. Russell shined the flashlight into the car. Doug was right. He was destroying evidence. He’d wear gloves and do the best he could, but he needed to get the car out of here. His light caught a flash of something on the floor. He moved the light back and then reached for it. He pulled out a shot-sized vodka bottle.
“What is it?” Doug asked.
“Ava’s last meal, I think.”
He heard the crunching of Doug’s feet on the pine needles, moving away from him. He came back a few minutes later with a larger light from Russell’s Jeep. “Turn the car off. We’re doing a quick body search now.”
“In the dark?”
Doug pulled on gloves. “You take this side of the road, I’ll take the other. They wouldn’t have dragged the body far. You have your cell phone on you?”
Russell nodded and pulled it out. But there were no bars. “Doesn’t work.”
“Shit. Stay within shouting distance, then. Meet back at the cars in half an hour.”
Russell watched Doug disappear into the trees. He shined his own light ahead and hesitated. He’d been in many situations that scared the crap out of him. This wasn’t even in the top twenty. But there was something worse about going off the road into the Pine Barrens in the dead of night in search of a body, with nothing but one thin stream of light to guide him. He moved ahead, trying to keep the cars in view. He knew if he got disoriented or lost in here, that was it. He’d have to count on Doug to find him.
Animals scurried by his feet, rough pine branches blocked his path. His light was cast downward, looking for a disturbance of earth, clothing or items, anything out of place. He wasn’t even ten minutes into the search when he heard his friend’s screams. “Russ! Here. Got something.”
CHAPTER 40
Joanne had been hunched over her kitchen table for hours, dissecting the reports Russell had given her. She clicked on her phone and checked the time.
“Ten o’clock. God.” She pushed back her chair and stood up to stretch. She’d called Russell five times, but they went to voicemail. A little doubt landed in the back of her brain and occasionally moved forward, capturing her attention, causing a stir of panic in her gut. If Russell disappeared, that was it, she was heading straight to the Prosecutor’s Office and telling them everything.
She sat down again and opened the report for the fortieth time. Bill’s and Ross’s deaths had both been ruled accidental. But with a more critical eye looking for abnormalities, the window of possibility cracked open enough to allow foul play to enter. Someone could have given Bill a dose of tree nuts and hidden his EpiPen, then threw it back under the table after he was dead. And Ross—he’d fallen in the bathroom, like so many others of a certain age—a random terrible thing. But Ross was found naked, on his left side, on the floor, his head only inches from the tub. A large contusion on the right side of his temple. The report ruled it as accidental, assuming Ross didn’t die immediately from his injury and had moved, crawled or repositioned himself before death. But what if he hadn’t? What if he’d died upon impact with an object? Hit on his right side and then fell down to the left with the blow? That would make more sense.
The deaths of Loyal Owens and his wife stood out from the others—not made to look like an accident. A deviation in the cause of death for a serial killer was extremely unusual. They’d assumed the killer had been lying in wait and was caught off guard, forced to kill in a brutal way. But maybe they were wrong. What if it hadn’t been the same killer? Maybe it was a copycat—someone who knew of Bill’s death and the photograph and took the opportunity to get rid of Loyal. But who? And why? And they would need to use the same camera. Or one identical. Think, Joanne, think.
She had hung a whiteboard on the wall near her chair and would write ideas down as they came to her. This one was added below nine others that had occurred to her while reading. She was never a linear thinker—her thoughts jumped around, so she’d start separate columns for different subject matter as the thoughts came. One was titled Ava. She tried to remember everything she knew about her friend and then divided it into sections—know for a fact, know secondhand, unconfirmed. She was shocked at how little was on the board in those columns. The girl was a wisp of smoke in the wind. Yet the two had spent substantial time together. How was that possible?
She was about to reach for her phone to call Russell again when she saw car lights in front of her house. She peered from behind the curtains to see Ava’s Honda pull up and stop. She rubbed her eyes, not sure it was true, and then flew out the front door.
She backed up when she saw Russell’s Jeep pull up behind it. Doug and Russell both opened their doors at the same time and stepped out onto the curb.
“Where’s Ava? What’s going on?” she demanded.
“We found her car in the Pine Barrens,” Doug offered.
Joanne backed up farther. Her hands went to her face and she felt tears appear on her cheeks. “Where is she, Russell?”
“Let’s go in.”
They followed her into her house and she made coffee. Russell examined her whiteboard notes. “This is good work, Joanne. It puts it all together for us.”
Joanne came back and handed them both coffee mugs. Then she picked up the silver letter opener and pieces of duct tape Doug had found in the woods. “This seals it. We need to report this now. Get prints on this. See if there’s DNA on this tape.”
“I have a better idea. Let’s assume there is DNA on the tape. Let’s assume it was on her wrists. Somehow in a tussle the letter opener was dropped. Or she had it and used it to cut the tape,” Doug said. “And we just move forward with that premise.”
“We’ll go back there in daylight and look for other things left behind and/or a body. When we can actually see what we’re doing,” Russell added. “We don’t report it until we have a body.”
“What if she’s not dead, guys? What if she got away and is lost in the woods and’s been there all this time?” Joanne asked.
“We’ll find her.”
Doug was looking at each Polaroid, picking it up, absorbing it, and then putting it back down. “This is interesting and amazing.”
“So in the meantime, what are you going to do with Ava’s car?” Joanne asked.
Russell smiled. “I’m going to park it in her driveway, leave the key in the ignition. And watch for fireworks.”
“Oh my God, that’s brilliant. See what that crazy nun does? Then follow her?” Joanne added.
“And you and me,” he said to Doug, “are going back to Jack Quinn’s. Maybe actually question him without him knowing he’s not being officially questioned?”
Doug nodded. “This is all going to end with a dead body, a full investigation, our dismissal, and maybe charges for all of us. But at least I’ll have a friend while I’m sitting in Camden County Jail.”
Russell eyed him. “They’d send us out of county, don’t you think?” He patted his back. “Come. We need to drop off Ava’s car and make sure no one sees us, then I’ll take you home.”
“So what’s next for me? What do I do?” Joanne asked.
Russell studied her for a second, thinking. “Tomorrow is Saturday. Wanna stake out Ava’s house tomorrow, early in the morning? As early as you can get there. See if anyone shows up? Just for a few hours until I get back from Quinn’s?”
“Me? Really?” She jumped up and hugged him. “Thank you. I thought I was going to be on desk duty forever.” She started making a list of stakeout supplies as they were leaving the house.
CHAPTER 41
Marie thought the world might be coming to an end. Signs of the apocalypse and all. The long night had been spent sleepless, with thoughts of her sister running through her head. She clo
sed her eyes and imagined Claire. Her face, her whole being. Five seven, thin, wider shoulders than hips. The black moleskin coat she’d bought on a cold day in Switzerland, way too big for her slight form, but she loved it. She said it was like wearing a blanket. Lushly lined in silk, it had a large hood edged in fox fur. A no-no, she’d told her sister, but Claire didn’t care. With the belt tied just right, she could carry it off. And she did, until the weather changed and she was back in her Hermès double-faced cashmere overcoat.
Claire had a distinct walk. A walk with a twist that was always there. Marie teased her, telling her she was swishing to make the most of her small hips, but the truth was, she’d done it for as long as she’d been walking. It was something nobody could know or imitate even when they tried. The person she’d almost hit last night had that exact coat on. It was nearly one of a kind in the United States. And they fled down the street away from her with that same Claire signature walk. Or did they? Did she just see the coat and imagine the rest? It was dark. Claire was dead. Marie had approved the apple-green Versace dress before they’d closed the casket and Anais had taken her away for good. This wasn’t possible.
She stood and paced the small area of her cell. There was only one explanation. She was going mad again. The stress of losing her sister, taking care of Ava, the emergence of the photograph, and Jack Quinn had pushed her brain to the sizzling point. That was all there was to it. She picked up the phone again and dialed her mother’s number. But the old woman didn’t answer. Her mother had been gone way too long and hadn’t mentioned traveling, but Anais was unpredictable and spontaneous. She hung up the phone and stared at the receiver.
Then it dawned on her. The black coat. She could run to Claire’s and see if it was in the closet. It was always in the front closet, wrapped in a garment bag during the summer, hanging free in the winter. She’d passed away before the really cold weather had set in, and Ava had done little or nothing to sort out Claire’s belongings.
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