by Anne Frasier
David blinked, then gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “No. Come on, Elise.”
“And I think Tremain is involved.”
“I disagree.”
“Tremain could have been supplying the same person. Or persons.” To back up her statement, she continued: “If the bodies were being harvested for black-market organs they wouldn’t be using some street punk like Zach.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
The elevator door opened to a cluster of officers waiting to board. Elise and David shut up and walked down the hall to their shared office. As soon as they stepped inside, David closed the door and said in a voice hardly above a whisper, “What about you? How do you fit into this?” The whisper was his attempt to protect her reputation. He didn’t want her theory getting out.
“Daughter of a conjurer?” she asked. “Do you know why my father was buried in an unmarked grave? So he couldn’t be dug up.” Whether or not Sweet was alive or dead was immaterial. The reasoning behind an unmarked grave was the same either way. “Because his body would be worth a lot of money. A lot of money.”
“And a conjurer’s daughter?”
“Just as much. Maybe more.”
“I don’t want to start an argument, but this whole thing is so damn far-fetched. Why not just put some ashes—any ashes—in a bag? Or use dirt? Or ground animal parts? Why human? Why kill a person? If we’re talking about a business rather than someone on a killing spree, the crimes have to make more sense.”
“Belief, remember? Maybe it makes no sense to you, but for people who believe? That’s different. You wouldn’t give somebody flour when he needed penicillin. If my theory is correct, the people soliciting body parts are either true believers or they don’t want an analysis of their product to prove it to be anything less than what they say it is.”
“You have no basis for this supposition, and we don’t have time to chase false leads,” Gould warned.
This was the first time he’d ever argued with her about a theory. “I know,” she said with doubt in her voice. It made sense that she’d see what she wanted to see in order to get Tremain the death sentence.
They both sat down at their desks, and Gould wheeled his chair close to Elise, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. “Okay, think about this. If what you say is true, then why didn’t Tremain kill you?”
“He would have killed me; he just wasn’t ready yet.”
“Because he was obsessed with you.”
“Right.”
Gould stared at her, and she could see the resistance in his eyes.
“I want to go back to Tremain’s house,” Elise told him. “I expected to find something we didn’t find. I think it’s still there. I think we missed it.”
“We combed that place. We went through every book, every drawer, every cupboard.”
“I want to go through it again. I also think we need to put a few officers on the house.”
“Already done.”
“He’ll know he shouldn’t go back there, but he’s going to want some of his belongings.”
“Like the book of skin?”
“Exactly. One thing we do know, Tremain is obsessive. Not sure he’ll be able to stop himself from trying to return even with cops watching his house.”
“Okay, I’m with you on this for now. But just for now.”
“Thanks.”
“I need to tell you something that has nothing to do with the case,” he said, his demeanor changing as he shifted gears.
“Is it about last night? Let’s forget about that. At least for now. At least until we catch Tremain.”
“I got a call this morning from a contact in Virginia.”
“Oh.” Gould used to live in Virginia. A lot of bad things happened to him there.
“It’s my ex,” he said. “She’s being put to death next week.”
That explained the distracted air. It hadn’t been about Elise at all. Hadn’t been about last night at all. Poor David.
“I don’t know how much press it’ll get, but I wanted to tell you in case it gets picked up by some of the major outlets.”
“Are you going?”
“I need to be there.”
She understood. Well, not completely, but a little. “Any chance of a stay of execution?”
“She’s had two. I don’t think it’ll happen a third time, but you never know. I won’t be gone long. Overnight, probably.”
“I’m sorry you have to go through this, but maybe it’ll bring you some closure.”
“I hope so.” He was quiet a moment, then he surprised Elise with something personal. “I thought I loved her once. I did love her. It’s a weird thing. I don’t really know where to put it, because I also want to see the bitch dead.”
This was the sad David that very few people saw. She understood that he had to keep that David suppressed, otherwise he couldn’t function. And she’d seen his inability to function.
But maybe his ex’s death would give him closure. Knowing the woman was there, knowing she was on death row for what she’d done to their child . . . how could that not eat at a person? Elise was sure David blamed himself. For not seeing what was going on. For not understanding the level of her evil or insanity or whatever it was. Who would think that a mother would kill her child? Most mothers would die for their children. And Elise also took what Gould had experienced as a warning. This is what happens when you get too lost in your work. You don’t see what’s going on in your own life.
“I need to Skype with Audrey today,” Elise said, her thoughts shifting to her own child. “I want her to stay in Sweden until we catch Tremain.”
David straightened away from her. “I think that’s wise.”
They were back.
Maybe she’d remember how he felt, and how he smelled, and how he’d made her feel for those few minutes, but this relationship was the one they both needed. At least that’s what she told herself. And she mentally removed the red slash from the canning jar. It would just say GOULD. No, David. It would say David.
“I’m going to say this once,” David said. “You’re my partner and my friend.” His words echoed her own thoughts. “I value that above all else. I would never want to do anything to jeopardize what we have here.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay.” With that, David got to his feet. “I’m gonna get some fresh coffee. Want anything?”
“Maybe an orange if there are any in the break room. Oh, and a yogurt.” She forgot she hadn’t eaten breakfast. In fact, she needed to go shopping again to replace the groceries Anastasia had polished off.
“You got it.”
Once David left, Elise caught herself staring into space, gently tracing a finger across her bottom lip. Then she came around and sent her daughter a text message, giving her a heads-up about the Skype call. Even though it was late, almost midnight in Sweden, they visited face-to-face, or as face-to-face as using Skype allowed.
Audrey looked good. So beautiful. How had she ever had such a beautiful daughter? Elise caught herself thinking about the man who’d shown up at the plantation last night, a man who might be Audrey’s grandfather.
They small-talked for a while. Elise asked Audrey about her host family and about the school she was visiting. The weather. The food. Audrey asked her mother how she was feeling, and if she was healing from her injuries. Then Elise broached the tougher subject. “I have some bad news,” she said. Rather than prolong Audrey’s agony, she followed up with that bad news. “Atticus Tremain, the man who abducted me, has escaped.”
Audrey let out a gasp and put her hand to her mouth.
“I’m sorry, honey,” Elise said.
“I don’t care about me! I’m worried about you!”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Oh, my God. M
om.”
“I want you to do something.”
“What? Anything.”
“I want you to stay in Sweden until Tremain is caught.”
Audrey shook her head. “No. I like it here. I love my host family, but I should be with you. I shouldn’t have come in the first place.”
“It’s good that you’re there. I think Tremain might use you to get to me. I want you to stay where you’re safe.”
“What about Thanksgiving? Will I be home for Thanksgiving?”
Elise didn’t want to say it might be longer, but she didn’t want to lie. “I don’t know. I hope so.” Her job was disrupting Audrey’s life again.
“Why can’t we be normal?” Audrey said.
“I’m trying.” Elise didn’t want to say that normal might always elude them.
Audrey had grown up a lot in the past year, but now, with the thought of not being back in Savannah for the holidays, she reverted to the resentful child of a year ago, always angry with her mother for never being there. “So I might not be able to come home for Thanksgiving because of your job?”
“I’m sorry.” Someone was knocking on her office door. “Honey, I have to go. I’ll talk to you again in a few days. Love you.”
Audrey disconnected without responding.
This was their normal.
CHAPTER 28
Every case was different, but most often when a house was a crime scene the keys were passed to a relative after the initial sweep and evidence collection. In the Tremain case, no relative had yet come forward, and the police department still had the keys.
“And what are we doing here again?” David asked, hands on hips as he perused the living room of Tremain’s house once more. “What are we looking for?”
“I started thinking he has to have a hiding place somewhere,” Elise said. “Because there are things we didn’t find. Maybe some hidden compartment in a wall, in a closet, in a cupboard. Under the floor.”
“I don’t even know where to start.” David put a hand to his head and scanned the filthy space. “I can’t believe you were here three days.”
“Could have been longer,” Elise said. “Could have been weeks.” This was her new way of looking at it. For some weird reason, Tremain’s escape hadn’t turned her into a quivering ex-victim. Instead, she’d come out fighting, and her head was clear. Her confidence was back.
They searched closets and cupboards, and all the while Elise could tell David’s heart wasn’t in it. He was humoring her once again.
“Let’s move the rug,” she said. “I know that seems obvious, but—”
“Obvious is why most people still hide their valuables in their underwear drawer.” David slid a wooden chair out of the way. A chair Elise had been tied to more than once. She wouldn’t mention that. Maybe in her report that was still due, but not now. Not here, and not to David.
He crouched and began rolling up the carpet. It was some cheap blue remnant with ragged edges. “Sweet kitty, this is nasty.” He tossed it on the equally nasty mattress, then they both began searching for loose floorboards.
“Let me ask you one thing, then I’ll shut up,” David said as he tried to pry a board loose, gave up, and moved to another. “What made you think the mojo worked?”
“Can we just stick to the task?”
“Were you briefly and inexplicably drawn to me?”
“Gould,” she warned.
“What you’re saying is no way in hell would you ever find me attractive under normal circumstances.”
Let him think that. “Didn’t we agree to put this behind us? And Strata Luna. Really.”
“She came to me,” he said. “And she likes you. She wanted to do something for you.”
“I would have preferred a potted plant.”
“You’re the daughter she wishes she’d had.”
“She’s a madam. I’m a cop.”
“Maybe you two could open that coffee shop together.”
Now he was teasing her, but that was okay. “I can’t quite see her serving lattes and wearing an apron.”
“I can’t see you doing that either.” He shrugged. “I find the woman fascinating, that’s all.”
“You’re smitten like all the other men in this town.”
“Maybe.” He paused and straightened. The front of his coat was covered in dirt and cobwebs. “We’re good, right? You and me? Because you keep calling me Gould instead of David.”
Elise’s focus shifted to the board beneath her hands. “Loose.”
“Now that’s just way too easy.”
He helped her pull it free, revealing bent, weakened nails—a sign of repeat traffic. Two more boards removed, and they were staring at a square metal box with a handle in the center. David lifted it from the hole and set it down in the middle of the floor.
After slipping on a pair of evidence gloves, Elise snapped the case open and pulled up on the hinged lid to reveal a tattoo kit complete with ink and needles and tattoo guns.
David looked from the ink guns, to her, back to the ink guns, quickly figuring it all out. “My God, Elise.” He started to drop down on the bed, thought better of it, and just stood there staring at her. “Holy crap.”
“Yes.”
“This is blowing my mind.”
“Everybody keeps asking me what he did to me those three days. This is a big part of it. He worked almost nonstop. He must have been doing speed or something, because I don’t think he slept. I would doze off in the middle of it. No food, no water, but he just kept going. That might also explain how I was able to eventually take him by surprise.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know. I felt dirty. Ashamed. I can’t explain it. He violated me in this permanent way, and now I’ll never get away from him.” She’d even lied about the tattoo to the doctor who’d treated her, telling him she’d gotten it right before her capture, and she asked that he keep it to himself.
“He did more to you than the tattoo.”
“I don’t want to talk about that now.” She snapped off her evidence gloves. “We’re having a debriefing first thing in the morning.” She tossed her cane and jacket aside, and began unbuttoning her shirt. “I want to include photos. No more secrets.”
He took a stumbling step away. “Let’s wait till we’re back at the department. One of the women can handle it. With an evidence camera and better lighting.”
“Let’s do it here. Use your phone.” She couldn’t explain why it seemed fitting to take the photos in Tremain’s lair rather than in some bright, sterile room at the police station, but it did. “I think your phone takes better images than our digital camera anyway, or at least just as good.”
While David opened the blinds to let in light, Elise removed her blouse and dropped it on the wooden chair. She unbuttoned and unzipped her black slacks, pulling the low waistband down to her hips. And then she turned her back to him and unhooked her bra.
“Can you see the whole thing?” she asked.
She heard his feet against the floor, then felt his fingers moving her bra straps down her arms, adjusting the waistband of her slacks to reveal more skin. He took several photos, then said, “I think I got it.”
She turned. “Let me see.”
He handed her the phone, and she scrolled through the images. “I’ve never gotten a good look at it. At first I was afraid to see what he’d done, and later I just wanted to forget it was there.”
“It’s actually quite beautiful.”
“So strange,” she said. “So much talent gone to waste.”
“Will you get it removed?”
“That’s a lot of ink. And black is harder to get rid of.”
Still staring at his phone, she zoomed in on the clearest image, hardly aware that David was behind her, fastening and adjusting her bra.
“I don’t think this is a bunch of random images. I think this is about me,” she said. “My life.”
He looked over her shoulder as she moved her finger across the touch screen, zooming in on one area at a time. A cemetery, a tombstone, a grave, with what appeared to be a baby on it.
The site where Elise was left as an infant had been a secret known only to a few, but somehow word was getting out. She hoped news of the location wouldn’t hit the mainstream, because she damn well didn’t want coworkers going there, and she damn well didn’t want her past ending up as part of some Savannah cemetery tour.
“There’s the police station,” David said. “And isn’t that your house?” He pointed to a Victorian structure with ornate trim and a wrought-iron fence, then he pulled her toward the window and turned her so her back was to the broken light. He traced his finger across the images, going over them one at time. “Here’s a pair of glasses.”
“Conjurer’s glasses.”
“I think this might be Strata Luna. And here’s a guy. Is that me? Who is that?”
“Maybe Thomas? My ex?”
“Yeah, maybe. I need to get a better look at this.” He pushed the waistband of her pants halfway down her buttocks to expose the entire piece. “There’s some lettering here. I think it’s his signature.”
“Oh, great. He signed me.”
“Yeah.” David was silent a moment, trying to take it all in. Then he said, “I don’t think in my years of profiling I’ve ever seen such an extreme example of obsession. You have to understand that by submitting these images as evidence you’ll never be able to put this completely behind you. This case and your body are going to be used in classes at Quantico.”
The kitchen door slammed and booted footsteps shuddered across the floor. Mason and Avery appeared in the doorway, weapons drawn, hands bracing straight arms, guns steady.
“Whoa. Okay, wasn’t expecting to see this.” Mason lowered his weapon.
“We’ll leave you two alone,” Avery said, backing away. Mason remained where he was, staring at the two of them. But mostly staring at Elise in her bra and unzipped pants.