by K. L. Murphy
“Can we come back later?” Talbot asked.
Dr. Charles was quiet. “I don’t think so. The next several hours are critical, and you’re not helping.”
Cancini stayed close to the bed, studying the girl. She knew something. He could see it in her battered face, in the way she seemed desperate to communicate, but she was weak and would be lucky to make it through the night. Nikki reached out, searching until she found Cancini’s hand. Her wet eyes pleaded with him. She tightened her grip around his hand and didn’t let go.
Cancini nodded at the girl and raised his free hand. “Just one more minute, please.” She was weak, but her grip was strong. “Let’s do this a different way. Why don’t I ask you a question, a yes or no question? Squeeze my hand once for yes and twice for no. Do you understand?”
He felt one squeeze. “Good girl.” This could be the break they were looking for, but he needed to do it right. “Was the person that attacked you a boyfriend or a friend?”
She squeezed twice. “No,” he said aloud. “Had you ever met your attacker before?”
Two squeezes. “Was he a fellow student?” No. He paused. He asked the obvious question, the one he’d been thinking about since the attack on the first girl. “Was your attacker Leo Spradlin?” The beeping increased on the machine. Nikki grew agitated again, but this time the doctor said nothing, his protests momentarily forgotten. She squeezed his hand. Once. Twice. “No?” he said aloud. “No.”
Talbot exhaled. The doctor intervened then and called for a nurse. He put his hand on Cancini’s shoulder, pulling him away from the bed, but Nikki would not let go. She struggled again to speak.
“Please,” Talbot said, shooting a look at the doctor. “One more minute.”
“It’s okay,” Cancini said to Nikki. “It’s okay. I’m not giving up. I’m with you.” He peeked at the monitor. This girl was fighting for her life, but she wanted to help. She wanted them to find their man. He hesitated. He knew what he wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. The girl’s eyes, unblinking, never left his. He swallowed. The name had been bouncing around his head, nagging at his brain for days. If he was right, it would change everything.
“Nikki, the man who attacked you,” he said, his voice soft, “was it Teddy Baldwin?”
Cancini heard the gasps behind him but kept his eyes locked on Nikki’s. The beeping from the monitor slowed, and Nikki’s face softened, the crease between her brows disappearing. She squeezed his hand. Once.
He stood up straight, and her hand slipped from his. “Yes.”
Chapter Seventy-Seven
AFTER THE SECOND attack, Spradlin had disappeared. Word had gotten around town. Anyone who hadn’t already been sure Spradlin was guilty couldn’t help wondering after that. Teddy had taken every opportunity to fuel the fire. “Why would an innocent man, one who made such a public show of returning to his hometown, suddenly disappear during a fresh wave of rapes and murders?” he’d asked. “I’ll tell you. Only a man with something to hide.” Even the skeptics had lapped it up. Teddy had shaken his head and hidden his smile. Leo was playing right into his hands.
The FBI hadn’t been able to ignore the disappearance, either. They’d put out an APB on the man, and he’d been informally elevated to a person of interest. Baldwin had even heard the governor’s office was trying to launch a new investigation into the DNA evidence to find out if it had been tampered with. Everyone was trying to cover their tracks. Teddy smiled as he drove north along the interstate.
Cancini had made it easy, too. His ego had blinded him. He couldn’t let go of the past or Spradlin. He’d been the hero once. If things went according to plan, it would be Teddy’s turn, and Cancini could play a supporting role. What a laugh. The girl was a complication, if she lived. He would have to make sure that didn’t happen. And then there was Julia. She’d stuck her nose in where it didn’t belong. If only she’d never met Nikki or met with Spradlin in the library. Who knew what he’d been saying? Either way, she knew too much.
When he reached the narrow western route, Teddy turned off the highway and pulled the car over to the side of the road. The sky was spitting rain, and he could see swollen clouds in the distance. A full-blown storm was fast approaching. The dirt road wasn’t far now.
We need to meet. I’ll send you the directions in one hour.
Almost forty-five minutes had passed since he’d received that message. No way Leo would expect him yet—not without having sent directions—but Leo had underestimated him as usual. He’d known about Leo’s little cabin since their high school days. Leo had to be there. He had nowhere else to go.
He pulled a pair of plastic gloves out of his pocket and snapped them on. He reached over to the passenger seat and picked up the handgun. Leo’s handgun. He’d been able to get everything he needed from Spradlin’s house a few weeks before his release from jail: the gun, a pair of shoes, and a couple of old T-shirts. Cocking the pistol, he checked the bullets. It was loaded and ready. He set it on the passenger seat, next to a pile of plastic bags. Inside each bag were two strands of hair. The girls hadn’t minded when he pulled the strands. They’d been dead when he took what he wanted.
He switched on the wipers and pulled back onto the road, running through the plan in his mind again. The shoes he’d taken were in a brown paper bag in the trunk, covered with dirt and leaves from the woods where he’d left the first girl. He’d swabbed the insides of the other girls’ mouths with the T-shirts; they held precious traces of saliva. Everything was ready. He would plant the evidence after he cleaned up the loose ends. It would be overwhelming and irrefutable.
He came to the dirt road and turned slowly, searching for a place to hide the car. After a short distance, he parked in a small clearing, still out of view of the cabin. The winds blew, and the sky was about to open up. He hauled old branches from the side of the road to cover the rear end of the car. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best he could do before the storm.
Opening the passenger door, he reached in and grabbed the gun. He stuck it in his waistband, then pulled his jacket closed and zipped it. Leo was going to commit one more murder, and then, overcome with guilt, he would take his own life. Teddy looked to the sky, letting the first, heavy drops hit his face. He’d never imagined it would end like this. They’d been such a great team once. Fuck Leo. There wasn’t any other way now. Leo had made that perfectly clear.
He wiped his arm across his eyes, blinking away the rain. Careful to walk inside the tree line, he crept toward the cabin, stepping over rocks, roots, and broken branches, the uneven ground slick with fallen leaves. Crouching under some heavy branches, he eyed the small wooden structure and a compact car parked in front. He smiled. He knew that car. Julia’s car. He’d been right again.
His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen. It was Janie from the hospital, the surgical nurse who worked in critical care. A plain woman, overworked, she welcomed his attention, his questions about her family. People didn’t realize how far you could get with just a few kind words. Teddy did. Those kind words often yielded a few favors now and then. Protecting the phone from the rain, he opened the text.
I’m sorry to give you the bad news, but your friend’s daughter didn’t make it.
Teddy licked his lips. The girl was gone. And Julia was with Leo. Neither of them was expecting him yet. It couldn’t be more perfect.
Chapter Seventy-Eight
“BALDWIN HASN’T BEEN seen since he left the hospital. Being a Sunday, his office is closed.” Talbot turned the corner. He drove up to the white house with the blue shutters and parked on the street.
Cancini craned his neck to look back at the two-story Colonial. The driveway was empty, and no activity was visible through the windows. The house appeared vacant. “He left the hospital almost two hours ago.”
Both men got out of the car, Talbot with a se
arch warrant in hand. “Yeah, and you should know the priest at St. Benedict’s confirmed he only saw Baldwin at the beginning of the service in the back row. No one remembers seeing him after that.”
“So, we think he went to the service and slipped out after a few minutes.”
“Right. The Walsh house is about three miles from the church. He could have been there by nine-ten at the latest.”
Cancini and Talbot walked up the sidewalk, pausing as a team of agents circled to the backyard. Talbot drew his gun, pointing the barrel upward. Cancini rang the bell. After several minutes and no answer, Talbot’s men opened the door and spread out among the rooms.
Cancini headed upstairs where he inspected the three bedrooms one by one. He guessed the first was a guest room, furnished with only a double bed and single nightstand. A second bedroom held a treadmill, bike, and TV. The hall bathroom was clean except for one towel crumpled on the floor. Slipping on a pair of gloves, Cancini picked it up by the corner. It appeared used and smelled musty. He dropped it back on the floor. The master bedroom was also empty. He stood in the doorway, scanning the room. No books on the nightstand. No television set. No pictures on the walls or framed photographs. The bed was haphazardly made, but otherwise, the room was clean. The walk-in closet held rows of suits, shirts, and shoes. A clothes hamper stood against the back wall of the closet. Cancini lifted the lid. It was empty.
He found Talbot in the kitchen.
“All the trash has been emptied,” Talbot reported. “There’s a thin layer of dust on the countertops and bookcases. I’d say he’s been living elsewhere for the last few days.”
Cancini opened the refrigerator. It was mostly empty except for a couple of take-out cartons, some bruised fruit, and a half-empty carton of milk. The date on the milk had passed. “I’d say you’re right.” The Baldwin family owned several properties. It seemed reasonable that Teddy would have access to all of them. “How many other residences do they own?”
“Four. One is at a ski resort in West Virginia, about two hours from here. One is in Virginia Beach. And there’s a house in Florida. I’ve got people checking out those places.”
“And the fourth?”
“The big house on campus. It’s usually reserved for visiting professors, guests of the president, people like that. But with the evacuation, it’s been sitting empty.”
Cancini followed Talbot back to the car. They rode in silence to the campus. Cancini leaned forward, rubbing the base of his neck. The dull ache that had started at the hospital had grown to a pounding throb that spread over the back of his head. He recognized the pain as penance, as a physical reminder of the evidence he’d missed, the mistakes he’d made. How could he have missed Baldwin for so long? How could he have he have missed the shifty eyes behind the amiable, good ol’ boy politician? He slammed his palm into the dashboard. “Goddammit. He was right in front of us the whole time!”
“Maybe,” Talbot said, his tone noncommittal.
“What do you mean maybe? Nikki identified him as her attacker.”
“Yes, she did, and we can get him on that when we find him, but as of now, we can’t link the other attacks to Nikki. The evidence we have in those cases is still circumstantial, like it or not. It no more incriminates Baldwin than it does Spradlin or me. No matter how you look at it, the return of Spradlin and the new attacks is still suspicious. No one has pointed that out more than you.”
Talbot was right. Spradlin was hiding something back then, and he was hiding something now. Why make a show of coming back and then disappear if you have nothing to hide? The road was lined with thick trees and bramble and he rolled the window down. The colors had changed in the last several days. Green had turned to gold and rust and red. Spradlin and Baldwin. Baldwin and Spradlin. Cancini had once thought he’d understood them both. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
Cancini’s mind returned to the girl lying in the hospital bed, struggling for her life. “How many guards do you have outside Nikki’s room?”
“Two. He can’t get in, but just to be sure, I took an extra precaution.”
“Oh?”
“Baldwin got a message from a friend. She told him the girl didn’t make it.”
Cancini nodded. “Good move.”
“Yeah, one of the few lately.”
They pulled onto Blue Hill Drive, parking in the long circular drive. They piled out and circled the house. One by one, the agents checked in with Talbot on their walkie-talkies. Cancini looked up at the grand house. It struck him as immodest, hardly the type of house he envisioned for a servant of God. He thought of Father Joe’s small parish apartment, the one he’d lived in for more than thirty years. It didn’t have columns or sweeping lawns. It wasn’t grand in any sense. This house was everything Father Joe’s apartment wasn’t.
Loud static erupted from the walkie-talkie in Talbot’s hand, and a deep voice boomed from the speaker.
“Sir, there’s someone on the line from the Washington Herald for Detective Cancini. He says it’s urgent.”
Talbot handed the walkie-talkie to the detective.
“Cancini here.”
“Detective, this is Norm Jensen. I’m from the Herald, Julia Manning’s editor.” His voice shook, the words rushed. “She’s missing, and she said she loved me and—”
“Slow down, Norm. Start at the beginning.”
“Oh God,” he sobbed. “I hope we’re not too late.”
Cancini’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”
Norm struggled to speak. “Julia. She’s not the melodramatic type. That’s me,” he said, stifling another sob. “Look, she sent me this text message.” He read it to the detective.
“There’s a package for me in her safe?”
“Yes, but she’s not there. I’ve had my assistant call the hotel three times. They found some clerk who said Julia left the hotel before the sun came up. Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know, Norm.”
“You’ve got to find her. That message . . . I’ve got a bad feeling.”
“Okay.” He waved for Talbot. “Stay on the line and let one of these officers get your information. We’ll get back to you as soon as we know something.”
Cancini spoke quickly, his right hand on his gun. “That was Julia’s editor. She’s the reporter I told you about, the one who’s been meeting with Spradlin.”
“And?”
“And she’s missing. I need you to send someone to her hotel. There’s a package addressed to me in her room safe.”
“I’ll send someone now. Where will you be?”
“I’m heading west in the direction Spradlin was last seen,” he said over his shoulder. “How fast can you trace a cell number?”
Chapter Seventy-Nine
EVEN THROUGH THE noises of the storm, they both heard the snap of branches outside. “He’s here,” Leo said, cocking his head toward the door. “I don’t know how, but it doesn’t matter now. He’s trying to catch me off guard.” He pushed Julia away from him. “Get under the bed. Hurry.”
She nodded and dropped to the floor. The dust under the bed stuck to her sweaty skin. Stifling a sneeze, Julia pulled her blouse up over her nose.
A chair scraped the floor near the back of the cabin. Leo would wait in the shadows, the rifle in his lap.
Footsteps sounded on the wooden steps. She clicked record and inched backward, pressing the small of her back into the wall. The front door slammed open, then shut again. “I’m here, Leo. What do you want?”
The silence stretched out until Julia didn’t think she could hold her breath a moment longer.
“I want things to end. It’s got to end,” Spradlin said finally.
Baldwin snickered. “Jesus, Leo, how many times have I heard that before? That’s what you always fucking say.” He moved forward in the cabin. “Why d
on’t you come closer so we can talk? We haven’t been able to do that since you got back.”
“Where were we going to talk, Teddy? In town? At the diner? I’m a pariah in this town, and you know it.” Baldwin found the chair Leo had placed near the front door. The legs creaked. He must have sat. She pictured the two men facing each other, seated on opposite sides of the room. “We both know being seen with me wouldn’t be good for your image.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Baldwin said with a sigh. “I’m sorry about a lot of things.” Spradlin snorted. “Believe what you like. Look, I did the best I could. I tried to help you.” Another snort. “I made sure you had the best lawyers available.”
“It was the least you could do. You were walking around on the outside. You got elected mayor. You got to live. What did I get?”
The rain came down harder, beating on the roof. “If the truth had come out, we both would have been in jail. Is that what you wanted?” Baldwin answered.
“When? Then or now?”
“Leo, it doesn’t have to be this way. I don’t want to be enemies, not now, not after everything . . . you’re free, aren’t you?”
Lightning cracked in the distance, and the thunder that followed made the cabin shudder. The winds had picked up and blew through the old boarded walls.
“I’ll never be free, Teddy, and you know it. Neither of us will ever be free.”
“You need to fucking lighten up, Leo.” Silence. “Where’s the girl? The reporter?”
“Gone. She knew too much for her own good.”
“Really? Now you’re sounding like the man I used to know.”
“I don’t want do this anymore, Teddy. Why’d you do it? Why’d you start again? I warned you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you warned me. So what?” A match sizzled, followed by the distinct odor of cigarette smoke. “You don’t get to fucking tell me what I can and can’t do. Don’t you get it? No one has ever suspected me, Leo. No one. And there’ve been others. In Florida. Out West. I wore a mask those times. I had to be careful. They were usually whores, and nobody gave a crap about them anyway. They weren’t as good as the college girls, but I needed them. They were my prizes for good behavior.”