Tall Pines Mysteries: A Mystery/Suspense Boxed Set

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  Callie put a kettle on. “I’ll make tea. Maybe she’ll come around and want a hot drink.”

  I thanked her from the bedroom, watching as Quinn laid his ear against the girl’s chest. “Heartbeat’s good. A little faint. But steady.”

  Her teeth chattered and she still shivered from the cold. We spread four blankets over her and I took off her totally-inappropriate-for-winter shoes, replacing them with two pair of my own wool socks.

  I reached under the blankets and gently massaged her feet, hoping to get the circulation going. “I don’t know what we should do. She’s probably got hypothermia or something, right?”

  Quinn’s dark-lashed eyes met mine. “Probably.” He gently took her hands and one at a time, blew warm air onto them. “Got some more of those socks?”

  I jumped up and rummaged through my top drawer. “Here you go.” I handed him the special red and gray pair from L.L.Bean he’d given me two winters ago when I kept complaining about my cold feet.

  While he carefully covered her petite hands—treating them like wounded sparrows—I stood close beside him, so irrationally happy to see him I could barely stand it.

  I studied his broad shoulders, narrow hips, the strong jaw, the firm mouth, the way his hair fell over his shoulders…and then I saw he still wore the turquoise bolo I’d given him for Christmas. The gift had been special, very meaningful to both of us. I’d tried to help him heal from the loss of his mother, half-sister, and his cheating father. It had been a rough time for him when his cousin Catori went back to the reservation, and I’d bought this as a testimony to his heritage and my love for him.

  Not to mention it matched his gorgeous eyes.

  My throat tightened and I glanced down at my hands. “I thought you’d gone home. Mom’s car wasn’t in the hotel parking lot this morning.”

  His eyes flitted to me, then back to the girl. “No,” he said. “I know you told me to go home, but I couldn’t just desert you up here. I’m not giving up on us, Marcella.” He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. “I went up to Project Hope to look for you. A nurse—Liz, I think her name was—filled me in on how you and Sky got lost in the storm, and said I’d just missed you by fifteen minutes. She said Sky saved your life. Is that true?”

  I blinked. “Um. Yeah.”

  “Well, when I got here, I saw your footprints and the shoveled porch steps, but I couldn’t find you. I saw a trail going toward the ledge and…” He looked at me with mournful eyes. “I thought the killer had shown up. I thought…”

  I took his face between my hands, searching his eyes. “Thank you for not leaving. I was never so glad to see anyone in my whole life. Honest.” I swallowed. “And the killer did show up. We saw him, Quinn. Right up the river.”

  His dark complexion turned gray. “What?”

  I explained what happened, and how the girl had probably been minutes from being murdered if we hadn’t stumbled on the act in progress.

  “My God. I had no idea.” He turned from me and ran a hand through his hair. “She would have been his next victim if you and Callie hadn’t surprised him.”

  “Right.” I took his hand in mine.

  He squeezed it gently, then lifted it to his lips. “Marcella…”

  A sound came from the bedroom. “Help me!”

  We ran to the girl’s side, both of us hovering and tucking and assuring her at the same time. Quinn’s voice was deep and gentle. Mine probably sounded a little too high and nervous. My emotions were all over the place and I felt taut as a drum.

  Eventually, the girl stopped struggling and spoke to us. “Where am I?” Tears spilled down her cheeks and she looked around in a panic. “Where is he?”

  I took her sock-covered hands in mine. “Honey. You’re safe now. You can relax.”

  “Where is he?” she repeated, as if in a daze.

  “We found you down by the river. We scared him off. He’s long gone.”

  She turned her face away from me, barely audible. “He hurt me.”

  “Quinn?” I said. “Can you see if the tea’s ready? I’d like to talk to her privately for a bit.”

  He backed out of the room, understanding immediately. “Of course. I’ll be here if you need me.”

  I patted her arm and smoothed her hair. I knew she wasn’t my child, but she was someone’s dear daughter and I wanted to comfort her as best I could. “Honey? My name’s Marcella. My friend Callie and I found you. Oh, and my dog here is the real hero. His name’s Dak.”

  Dak jumped on the bed and snuffled the girl’s shoulders. She pulled the socks off her hands and reached to pat him absentmindedly. It seemed to soothe her.

  “What’s your name, dear? Can you tell me?”

  She answered in a tiny whisper. “Becky Crowell.”

  I got up and quickly told Quinn her name. “Call the police back and tell them who she is so her parents can meet us at the hospital.” I returned in seconds to her side. “Okay, Becky. We’re going to get you help. We’ve called the police and they contacted your parents.”

  She stiffened. “I can’t face my folks.”

  I stroked her hair some more. “Why not, honey?”

  “I just can’t. Not after what he did to me.” She turned over and buried her face in the pillow. “I’m so ashamed.”

  I was no rape counselor, but I tried my best to soothe her fears. “Oh, darling. You did nothing wrong. You were a victim, honey. Nobody could fight off a big man like that.”

  She grabbed my hand. “I tried! I really did. I fought like hell. I mean, heck.”

  She looked embarrassed for being caught cursing, which I found endearing.

  “That’s how I got these bruises on my arms.” She lifted her sleeves to show me ugly purple circles around her upper arms.

  I tried again. “It wasn’t your fault, Becky.”

  “Yes. It was. I accepted a ride from a stranger. He seemed so nice. He said he worked at the clinic. He was cute. He was lost. He needed my help to find his way to…” She began to sob again. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers. My folks will kill me.”

  “Listen. It wasn’t just you. This guy is very good at luring girls into his car.”

  “Truck,” she corrected with a hiccupping sob. “It was a truck.”

  “Okay, truck. But you weren’t the first. You were the seventh or eighth girl he kidnapped. You can’t blame yourself for what happened. You weren’t the only one.”

  “I know. There were others in the cabin,” she whispered in a croaky voice, choked with tears. She started to sob again. “I don’t want to have a baby. I’m too young.” Wailing now, she shuddered and wept.

  My heart just about broke and I felt like I was comforting Callie again so many years ago. I rubbed her back. “Sweetheart, listen. It’s very unlikely. It usually takes more than a few times to get pregnant.” I tried to remember how old she was. Fourteen? I thought that’s what Sky had told me. My God. Fourteen.

  She turned a tearful face to me. “Really? I thought it only took one time.”

  I shook my head, thinking of my own fruitless attempts at pregnancy and my three ensuing miscarriages. “It can happen, but usually not that quickly.” I hoped I was right. I had actually heard of young girls who were impregnated after their first time with a boy. I hoped it didn’t go that way for poor Becky.

  “My parents are going to kill me,” she repeated.

  “No. They love you. They’ve been going crazy, worried about you. They’ll be so glad you’re okay. And you don’t have to tell them all the details right away. You’ll have someone special to talk to, someone who knows how it feels to…to be in your position.”

  She surprised me by reaching for me. I hugged her while she cried for another ten minutes, thinking how I would have loved a daughter of my own, and how terrible it must’ve been for her parents, worrying, waiting, and fearing the worst.

  The whap-whap sound of approaching helicopters came from overhead.

  I glanced up. “Here they c
ome. Be back in a second.”

  While we waited for the ‘copter to find a place to land—I figured it would be out in the Hope Diner parking lot which was just outside our seven acre parcel—I finished filling Quinn in about the killer and what we’d learned.

  We stood side by side at the porch door, keeping watch. “So, anyway, like I was saying, the killer’s been identified. They’re pretty sure he was a patient at Project Hope, believe it or not. He was wearing that same St. Christopher medal in the mug shots they showed us.”

  “You mean it was him that night? The jerk who stole our wood?” He shook his head as if he couldn’t process the information. “And he has leukemia?”

  “Yeah, but he was getting better with the oils. They all loved him up there. They called him Valentino, because he was so charming and handsome.” I laughed bitterly. “I still can’t believe it.”

  Quinn’s brow furrowed. “That’s so sick. It almost makes him sound like a romantic figure.”

  “I know. I’ll bet the news reporters will run with it.”

  Quinn crushed me to his chest and mumbled in my hair. “Oh my God, Marcella.”

  He held me so tight I could barely breathe. I collapsed against him, hugging him back. He murmured my name over and over again, kissing my neck and finally my lips. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  “Me, too.” I sighed and leaned into him. “God, I’ve been such a fool.” I kissed him deeply, not wanting to part, not wanting to ever leave his side again. My husband. My soul mate. I tried not to think about how close I’d come to betraying him in a way we’d both never be able to forget.

  I didn’t get a chance to confess or elaborate, for Callie appeared behind us.

  She glanced up when a siren shrieked in the distance. “Ambulance is almost here.”

  “Thanks, Callie.” Quinn turned to her, his arm still around me, but his expression grim. “You two could have been killed by that bastard. My God. To think he was so close.”

  I glanced toward the window. “I have a feeling he was squatting in the Wohls’ cabin. I saw a light there the other day, and someone plowed it out this morning. Geez. To think he may have been killing those girls right next door to us.”

  Callie perked up. “Wait a minute. What if Ginny and Aria are still there?”

  We walked into the living room and looked out the windows toward the neighboring cabin.

  “I wonder.” I shivered. “Geez. Do you think—”

  Copper burst into the cabin with her hand on her weapon. “You guys okay?”

  Callie ran to her, received a brief hug and kiss, but Copper went right back to business, gathering information and coordinating between the local sheriff’s office, the feds, and Detective McCann.

  The ambulance arrived. The attendants spent ten minutes in the bedroom, then removed Becky, heading for the hospital.

  Copper helped them get her to the vehicle, then came back in with McCann. I heard them talking about her, and couldn’t help but listen.

  “You know who she is, right? She’s Becky Crowell. Did you get word to her folks?” I said, tugging on Copper’s sleeve.

  “All taken care of. Becky’s fourteen. Oldest of seven kids. Parents live about two miles from the school. Maple syrup farm.”

  She took out a notebook and got us organized in the living room. “There are two agents going with her to the hospital. When they’ve finished interviewing her, we’ll know more. Maybe she’ll be the key to finding Aria and Ginny.”

  “She was raped, Copper. She’s going to be traumatized. She might not feel like being interviewed right now.”

  Copper nodded as if she had already suspected the truth. “I understand. But the sooner we get her to talk, the better the chances for the other girls.”

  For the next half hour we reviewed the events. Each time we shared something new—like the uncomfortable fact that the killer had been so close, and maybe staying next door—one of the feds would get up and bark commands to the crew milling around outside. One group had already rappelled down the ledge to gather evidence at the site where the girl had lain. Another searched the Wohls’ cabin. And yet another group fanned out across the woods to search for the killer.

  I told them I heard a car start up not long after we scared Valentino off, and they gave more orders which involved all points bulletins for upstate New York.

  I sat with my head nestled in Quinn’s shoulder while Callie filled and cleared coffee cups, basically keeping as near to Copper as she could without being in the way. I knew how she felt. Being so close to the killer had chilled me beyond cold. Deeply shaken, I didn’t want to let go of his hand for more than a few seconds.

  McCann sat across from us on one of the dining room chairs he’d pulled across from the couch. “Marcella. Is there anything else you can think of that might help? Any more details about him? His voice? His appearance?”

  I bit my lip. “Other than the fact that he matched the mug shot so well…with those pretty eyes and his friendly smile…wait a minute. Becky said he drove a truck. Someone must’ve seen him drive in and out of there. It’s so rare for anyone to come down this road in the winter, maybe one of the neighbors on the main road noticed. Maybe one of the ladies at the Hope Diner caught the color or model?”

  Copper spoke up. “We plan to interview all neighboring homes up and down Route 30. And remember, Sky said there were two sets of tracks when Ginny was abducted; his partner may have the victims stashed somewhere else.”

  Quinn stiffened at Sky’s name.

  Copper rubbed her eyes. “Maybe he just brings them one at a time to this place to kill them.”

  I shuddered, leaning closer to Quinn.

  McCann started to pace. “Most of the bodies have been found within five miles of here, north or south along the river. It makes sense that he could have used this as a base. At least some of the time. And if he needed firewood, and stole almost your whole supply, he probably planned to stay here for quite some time.” He peered out the window at the team returning from the Wohls’ cabin. “Until you and Quinn showed up for an unexpected late winter stay here at Tall Pines, that is.”

  Quinn grimaced. “We probably really screwed up his plans. Most of these places are empty all winter. It’s rare to see anyone on the river from December through March.”

  McCann reached for his coat. “Come on. I want to see what they found in that cabin.”

  Chapter 27

  McCann conferred with the team leader who returned from checking out the Wohls’ cabin, then came back to let us know what they’d found. Quinn and I met him outside Tall Pines in our winter gear.

  “It’s empty,” he said with a frown.

  Quinn and I exchanged a glance. No bodies. But sadly, no live girls, either.

  McCann continued. “He’s gone, and I doubt he’ll be back. We’re taking photos, prints, and gathering trace evidence now. On the rare chance he comes back to get something he forgot in his rush to escape, we’re posting a coupla guys to watch the place.”

  “Gordon?” I stepped hesitantly toward him. “Was there any evidence that the girls had been kept there?” I really didn’t want to know. But I had to ask.

  He shook his head. “My guys didn’t see anything that jumped out at them. There were a few supplies. A ton of firewood.” He looked toward our shed. “We know where he got that.”

  He ushered us over to his car. “No clothing from victims, no feminine articles like jewelry or the like. No blood stains. Just your standard lone-guy-batching-it kind of stuff.”

  “The girls have to be somewhere else, then,” I said. “From the time he ran to the time that car started up was maybe five minutes. It would’ve taken longer to get several struggling women out to a truck and close up the camp, right?” I didn’t want to think that maybe Ginny and Aria were already dead, left on a cold slab of ice by the river’s side.

  McCann narrowed his eyes. “Good point. We’re starting to think the same thing. There’s another hideout. Maybe
up in Speculator, nearer to where he’s been snatching the girls.”

  I leaned against the car when McCann got in. “Now that everyone knows what he looks like, won’t it be harder for him to get food and supplies? His picture will be all over town, right?”

  “More like all over the country. Every national news group is picking up on it.” He pursed his lips. “Yeah. It’ll curtail him, for sure. But if his partner is walking around free and anonymous, he can still buy food or whatever that…er…Valentino creep needs.”

  “So that’s what we’re calling him?” I asked.

  McCann frowned. “I guess. Everyone’s started using the name.” He opened his car door and settled behind the wheel. “Listen. You guys can probably stay here without too much worry, but I’d feel a lot better if you went home to Honeoye Lake. You don’t need to be part of this.”

  Quinn shook hands with McCann through the car window. “Thanks, Gordon. We’ll take your advice.”

  I wasn’t so sure. I needed to know if Ginny and her daughter were alive. It wouldn’t feel right just up and deserting them when I knew who held the girls and what he might would do to them.

  ***

  Five minutes after the last official left, many hours past lunch and at almost six o’clock, we heard the back door open.

  “Marcella?” Sky’s voice rumbled through the kitchen. “Are you okay?”

  Quinn had just plopped beside me on the couch, but jumped up when he heard Sky approach. “Hey, Sky. We’re in here.”

  Somehow, in all the craziness of the day, Sky hadn’t heard that Quinn had been part of it. I saw it on his face. The disappointment. The resignation. The acceptance?

  It happened so fast, I wasn’t sure I’d read him right.

  Sky reached forward to shake Quinn’s hand. “Good to see you again, bud. Are you two okay? I just heard about the rescued girl on the news. Tried to call you but your phone was busy for hours.”