Stay Dead (Elise Sandburg series)

by Anne Frasier

  David was pretty sure Elise was no longer in the house, yet he forced himself to check the place from bottom to top, all with great speed, because he knew every second brought Elise closer to death.

  As he moved through the building, he tried to calculate when the attack had taken place, how many hours had passed. He was pretty sure the texts he’d gotten from her when they were preparing to storm the Francis house were real. That was, what? Five hours ago.

  The first hour was crucial. Even laypeople knew that. After the first twenty-four hours, chances of the person being alive dropped drastically.

  He’d been through this before. Done this before. Weeks ago. He was trapped in some loop, some recurring nightmare, he thought, as he ran back to the bedroom to use the landline phone to call Savannah PD.

  No dial tone. Cut cord. The guy was thorough.

  Back outside to his car where he grabbed a flashlight and did a quick examination of the lane and dirt driveway. It had rained recently, but he could make out tire tracks coming and going, along with a few scattered footprints that might or might not have been fresh.

  Where would Tremain take her? If she’s still alive. She’d gotten away from him once. Could she do it again?

  Tremain would know better than to go to his house. No, he’d take her somewhere remote. David was pretty sure of that. Someplace she couldn’t escape.

  Tremain was smart, and he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. This was his do-over, his chance to get it right. This time he’d make sure he killed Elise before she got away. But he hadn’t killed her yet. At least it didn’t seem that he had. If she were dead, her body would have been left at the plantation, organ or organs removed. That was his MO.

  No, he was infatuated with Elise, and that infatuation would make her harder for him to kill. He would toy with her, savor her, and then, finally, when he’d had his fill, he’d kill her.

  David could feel himself unraveling, feel himself falling apart.

  Maintain.

  Last time, he’d just plain lost it, but this time he had to be the cool-headed FBI agent he’d once been. A long time ago, before his life collapsed. He vaguely remembered that guy. He could be him again.

  He got in his car and drove toward Savannah, checking his phone, watching for bars to appear. It didn’t take long to get out of the dead zone, and once he had a signal he pulled to the side of the road and keyed in the task-force number. David told the officer working the night shift to get a crime team out to the plantation as quickly as possible even though he knew nobody would show up until morning.

  “And we need to get information to every news station in the tristate area,” David said. “Every national station that’ll run it. I think Tremain is in Detective Sandburg’s car. If he hasn’t ditched it already, he will. He’ll probably avoid major roads. I think he’ll be looking for a remote location. I know we’re understaffed, but get some people on this as quickly as possible. Get them out of bed. See if there are any remote locations that Tremain is familiar with. Places he used to go as a kid. Anything. And I don’t need to tell you that we have to work fast. I don’t think he’ll hang on to her long this time.”

  Once he was done talking to the officer manning the task-force line, he called Avery, who answered his phone pretty quickly considering David woke him up.

  “He’s got Elise.” That’s all David had to say.

  CHAPTER 42

  The manhunt for Tremain quickly reached fever pitch, and by nine the next morning his face was once again on every news station, local and national. The police department was aware that time was against them, and they were aware that they’d failed Elise before. It was important for them to solve this, find Tremain, find Elise, and do it fast.

  Hotline phones were ringing with calls about Tremain sightings. It was too damn bad he looked so generic.

  “Three reported spottings in the area,” Avery said when David stopped by the command center. “One report of him lying under a bush in Forsyth Park, another of him strolling around Tybee Island, and the last one from a teenager who said he gave Tremain a ride.”

  “Get that kid on the phone,” David said. “I need to talk to him.”

  They had to pull the teenager out of class. “He’s on the line,” Avery said after a wait of ten minutes.

  David grabbed the phone and began drilling the kid. But when he got to the question about the exact location of the drop-off, David no longer had any doubts.

  “I stopped in the middle of the highway, and he got out,” the kid said. “There was this dirt lane that was kind of overgrown, but you could tell cars had been down it recently because the grass was all packed. You know how it looks at a fairgrounds or a concert, when a bunch of cars drive over the grass? That’s how it looked.”

  The party.

  “Did you see any buildings?”

  “No, it was dark. I asked him why he wanted out there, and he laughed and said he was going to see an old friend.”

  “Can you remember anything else about him? Any small detail?”

  “Not really. I mean, he just seemed like a guy who needed help. I would never have figured him for a kidnapper or killer,” he said, sounding freaked out.

  “Anything else?”

  “He did smell a little weird.”

  “Weird? How?”

  “I don’t know. Not bad. You ever go into one of those shops where they have all kinds of incense, and it burns your nose? Like that. He smelled like incense.”

  “Thanks,” David told him. “We’re going to send someone by the school to take a statement from you.” David made a come-here signal with one hand, motioning for a uniformed officer. “Don’t leave the school. Someone will be there soon.”

  He disconnected. “A solid sighting,” he announced. “Let’s get more manpower out there to canvas the area around the plantation.”

  He planned on heading out himself once he made sure no other leads had come in. He was hurrying down the hall to report to Major Hoffman when his cell phone vibrated. He pulled it from his pocket hoping it was Elise, knowing it wouldn’t be, but she’d called him before when she’d escaped Tremain.

  It wasn’t Elise, but close. Audrey. He turned and answered while aiming for his office and privacy. He closed the door just as Audrey began talking.

  “I’m at the airport,” she said, sounding as if she’d been crying. “Mom told me she was picking me up. She told me she’d get a special pass so she could meet me when I got off the plane, but she’s not here. I know she’s mad at me.” He heard her struggle to contain a sob.

  With all that had happened, he’d forgotten Audrey. And judging from what she’d just told him, she didn’t know about Elise. There weren’t that many television screens in the Savannah/Hilton Head Airport. None in the main waiting area, if he recalled correctly.

  “I just wanted to come home,” Audrey said. “And now I don’t know what to do. I thought about calling Dad, but you know how he is about Mom. He’ll make me move to Seattle if I tell him she didn’t pick me up when she was supposed to. I’d take a cab home, but I only have ten dollars. Most of my money is still in euros.”

  “Wait for me in the main drop-off area,” David said. There would be plenty of police around. “I’ll be right there. Do you hear me?” He wanted to tell her to stay away from the televisions, but that would be a little suspicious. “Don’t leave the main entry. Don’t go to the Starbucks. Don’t talk to anybody. Just wait for me.”

  “Why? What’s going on? You’re scaring me. Is something wrong? Did something happen to Mom?”

  David didn’t want to tell her about Elise over the phone, so he lied. He was doing a lot of that lately. “Your mom is fine,” he said. “She just had a last-minute appointment, and she asked me to pick you up.”

  “Oh, okay.” He could almost see her relax. “How long before you get here? Bec
ause good Godzilla, I’m tired. I had to sleep in an airport last night.”

  “I’ll be there soon,” he said. Instead of going to Hoffman’s office, he began walking in the direction of the stairs. “I’m leaving downtown right now.”

  David reached the airport in twenty minutes. He pulled up to loading and unloading, spotting Audrey with a giant polka-dot suitcase. She wore big black sunglasses and a pink dress with black leggings, along with blue Keds. She looked taller even though she hadn’t been gone very long.

  David got out and circled the car, went to her, and gave her a hug because she looked like she needed one. Then he hefted her suitcase into the trunk and they were on their way, buckling seat belts as David put the car in gear.

  Audrey began babbling immediately. “I don’t know why Mom is so mad,” she said. “I’m just coming home when I was supposed to. I mean, to begin with, before she got the idea I needed to stay longer.”

  David knew he should take her somewhere to eat. And once they were done, he should take her for a walk where he could break the news about Elise. But they didn’t have the luxury of time. He had to get back downtown and focus on the case.

  “I have to tell you something,” David said as he guided the car onto Airways Avenue. “It’s about your mom.”

  “She’s really mad, isn’t she?”

  “She’s not mad. At least I don’t think so.”

  He should have pulled over so he could look at her. Instead, he had to keep his eyes on the road as he maneuvered in and out of traffic. “Audrey, your mother is missing.”

  He didn’t know anything about teenage girls. Well, he had a sister, and he remembered the drama, but he mostly remembered trying to avoid it. He was sure he was handling this all wrong. But was there a right way to tell a kid her mother had been kidnapped? For the second time?

  “Missing? What does that mean? I know Tremain is loose. Is it Tremain? Does he have her again?” She undid her seat belt and turned to face him, sliding her sunglasses on top of her head. “Oh, my God.”

  “That’s what we’re presuming.”

  “Is she okay? Do you know if she’s okay?”

  He shook his head. “We’re doing everything we can to find her. Hook your seat belt.”

  “You mean like you did everything you could to find her before?”

  “We know more about Tremain now. We have more to go on.”

  “This doesn’t seem real. This seems like a dream. A nightmare.” She dropped back in her seat, facing forward, tugged at the seat belt, and latched it. “What is that hula girl doing there? Why do you have that on the dash? You shouldn’t have that. Not now. Not today.”

  He tried to remove it, but it was stuck fast. “Sorry,” he mumbled as the hula girl danced.

  Audrey shot questions at him, many he couldn’t answer. How did it happen? Why? When? Where? Poor kid. It was obvious she was running on adrenaline. Her brain finally caught up with her surroundings, and she asked, “Where are we going? This isn’t the way to my house.”

  “You can’t go home. And anyway, it’s still under construction.”

  “This isn’t the way to your place.”

  “You can’t go to mine either because I won’t be there. I’m not going to sleep until we’ve found your mother. I have to take you someplace where you’ll be safe.”

  “What difference does that make? This isn’t about me. It’s about Mom.”

  “She’d want me to make sure you’re okay.”

  He turned right onto Martin Luther King, Jr. Blvd. Five more minutes and they were pulling to a stop at a wrought-iron gate. He pushed the intercom button. “It’s David Gould,” he said when a male voice answered. “I need to see Strata Luna.”

  The gate opened, and the car shot forward.

  “Strata Luna?” Audrey said. “Are you freakin’ kidding? Me, staying with the owner of an escort service? That’s like staying with a pimp. Mom is not going to like this.”

  David put the car in park and cut the engine. “I don’t have time to argue. I have to find your mother. This is the safest place for you. The end.”

  He got out, unloaded her suitcase, and began walking toward the mansion. Audrey followed at a distance.

  “I’m taking you up on your earlier offer,” David told Strata Luna when she met them at the door. She wore a bright blue scarf tied around her head, the only color David had ever seen on her, and it made him wonder if the black was just for show. Maybe she had this closet of brightly colored clothes that she only wore when nobody could see her.

  “The offer was for Elise, but I’m perfectly fine with Elise’s baby,” Strata Luna said. “Come on in, sweetness. I’m sorry ’bout everything, child. I been working a protection spell, and you can help me. I can use your hair, and maybe you’ve got some article of clothing that belonged to your mother.” Strata Luna put a long-nailed hand on Audrey’s shoulder and urged her inside. Then, to David, she said, “Go. Find Elise. I’ll take care of this baby girl. She’ll be fine here, because Strata Luna will guard her with her life.”

  CHAPTER 43

  In the evidence room of the Savannah PD, David pulled out his phone to photograph one particular item in Tremain’s sketchbook—the drawing used as the template for Elise’s tattoo. David had the photo he’d taken of Elise’s back, but the drawing was a clearer image.

  Finished, he pocketed his phone, rebagged the sketchbook, signed and dated the chain-of-evidence tag, and returned everything to the shelf. Then he peeled off his latex gloves, tossed them in the container near the door, and headed upstairs to the task-force room.

  “Somebody get the name and phone number of the best historian in the area,” he announced.

  Keys clicked, and Meg Cook, the young blond woman who was proving to be invaluable, brought him a list of three experts. He called the first one, a man named Bartholomew Gordon, who’d written several books on the history of Chatham County. David introduced himself and told the man about Elise.

  “I heard the news,” Bartholomew said. “It’s horrible.” He had a beautiful Georgia accent, the kind that was almost like music. “But I don’t understand why you’re calling me.”

  “I’m hoping you could identify some landmarks. Landmarks that might help us find Detective Sandburg.”

  “I’ll do anything I can.”

  “Okay if I e-mail an image to you?”

  Gordon gave him his address.

  David hit the loudspeaker button on his phone so he could talk and operate the keypad at the same time. “I probably don’t need to tell you, but speed is of the utmost importance. I’m e-mailing the photo to you right now.” David attached the best image and hit “Send.” “Please look at it and call me back at this number as soon as you identify anything. I’m particularly interested in the church and the cemetery, but there’s also a building in the background that’s probably too generic for identification. Please take a look at that too.”

  “I’d be honored.”

  They disconnected, and David began to pace as he waited for the return call. He was thinking about contacting the next name on the list when his phone rang. He hit “Answer.” “Yes?”

  “I was able to identify the cemetery right off. Kind of surprised you didn’t recognize it, but of course it’s just one tomb. I’m fairly certain that’s the grave of Lavinia Lafayette, a voodoo priestess. It’s located in Laurel Grove Cemetery on the northeast side of Highway 204, near Sycamore.”

  “How certain are you of this?”

  “Ninety-nine percent.”

  “What about the other landmarks?”

  “I’m going to have to get back to you on that. I think I know the church, but I have to make sure. The building . . . that’s going to take longer, if I can figure it out at all.”

  David thanked him, disconnected, and grabbed his jacket. “I’m heading for Laurel Grove C
emetery. Who’s coming with me?”

  Avery stepped forward. The man was becoming David’s BFF.

  “We’ll call for backup if we find anything,” David said. “In the meantime, keep taking calls. Oh, and Meg? Contact the other two men on the list, and send them the image I just e-mailed to the whole team. See if they can identify anything.”

  She nodded and got to work.

  David and Avery left, almost running down the hall, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. In the car, David drove over the speed limit, but not much. He didn’t want a patrol officer stopping them for speeding, didn’t want a siren announcing their arrival at the cemetery.

  Once there, David parked the car and both men got out.

  “I don’t know anything about this place,” Avery said as they walked down a narrow dirt road. “My wife’s into all that ghost stuff, done all the tours. She’s tried to get me to come along, but I always manage to get out of it.”

  David made a small sound of sympathy, spotted something, and pointed. “That could be it.” In the far distance, under a live oak draped in Spanish moss, was an aboveground tomb covered with offerings, glass and metal reflecting the sunlight.

  “Look at all this,” Avery said in disbelief as the two men approached the cement slab.

  Small gifts and offerings weren’t at all unusual in the South, but David had never seen so much stuff. Beer bottles and shoes and Popsicle sticks bound together with string. Money and buttons, and what had to be dozens of candles, most burned completely down to the metal that held the wick, but some were waiting for a match.

  Scattered among the candles were sticks of incense, packets of incense, incense burners, matches, cigarette lighters, articles of clothing. Pink baby rattles, a nasty pink baby blanket that might have been there for years. But the thing David and Avery were both staring at, their mouths agape? Propped up in the center of the entire mess was an eight-by-ten color photo in a gilded frame. But the photo wasn’t of Lavinia Lafayette. The photo was a head shot of Elise.

  “Holy hell,” Avery said, hands on hips. “It’s a damn shrine to Detective Sandburg.”