CHAPTER 17 IN HIS MOTEL room, Lang continued to pore over the files. He’d visited the parents of both deceased girls again and unfortunately learned nothing new. The only forward movement was that the second analysis had finally come back, and all the handwriting matched: the writing on the mirror, the note left on Chelsea’s car, and the note left wrapped around the rock. He pulled out his notebook from the piles of paperwork scattered across the bed. It contained thoughts he had written down during his interview with Ethan’s mother. She had been very withdrawn. Having lost her husband, she seemed resigned to live out her life in solitude and maybe a little gin. It was one of the first things he’d noticed when she’d opened the door. An almost overpowering scent of alcohol wafting from her breath. She’d told Lang that she hadn’t seen or heard from her son since a week before the killings. And Lang couldn’t help but believe her. He’d detected no nervousness. No deceit. Just resignation.
CHAPTER 18 IT WAS 9:00 p.m., and Chelsea was parked in an upper-middle-class neighborhood in Marblehead, four blocks from Lisa Lawson’s house. She needed answers. If Boyd wouldn’t give them to her, she’d have to get them herself. The neighborhood was full of huge homes with expansive, well-manicured lawns, and just about every one of them was decorated for Halloween. Lisa Lawson’s house was a gorgeous two-story colonial with a horseshoe driveway made of brick and river rock. It angled off to a large four-car garage. It was one of the few houses that wasn’t decorated for the ridiculous holiday. It also looked far too large for just one person. It had taken all of five minutes to do an Internet search to find Lisa’s home address. And Chelsea knew she had the right address when she spotted Boyd’s Audi sedan in the driveway, along with another vehicle. An Audi SUV. Tears immediately sprang to her eyes when she saw the two vehicles in the driveway, because it meant they were likely both hom
CHAPTER 19 THE NEXT EVENING Chelsea lay in bed, her chest aching. Her bedroom felt so cold. She’d been lying in bed for several hours, but she had barely closed her eyes. Her mind was racing, and she couldn’t think clearly. How come happiness is so fleeting, yet sorrow is not? she wondered, wiping her tears away with the heel of her hand. Was that everyone’s experience, or just hers? Listening to the wet whisper of cars passing on the rain-slicked road below her apartment, she thought of the handgun. It was just mere inches away, tucked into the top drawer of her nightstand. Then she sat up, lit her bedside candle, and poured herself some wine, again nearing the bottom of a bottle. She took a sip and watched shadows dance across the wall. Harry uncurled his lithe body and stretched. Then he walked over to her and nuzzled her neck, pressing his cold, moist nose against her face. He purred in her ear, trying to comfort her. She stroked him, then lay back down and turned on her side. When
CHAPTER 20 THE SUN WAS in its death throes as Lang sped along the quiet, winding road. He checked his handwritten directions to Katherine’s house to make sure he was on the right route. The address didn’t show up on his phone’s GPS, and the street signs—the few that he’d seen—were poorly marked. From the darkened storefronts, abandoned gas station, and boarded homes, it was clear the area had long been forgotten by most folks, which was a little surprising since the college was less than two miles away. He made a quick call to Springfield, requesting updated information on Boyd Lawson. When he hung up, he downed more coffee. He was exhausted, and his back and knee were aching worse than ever. He cracked his window, letting cool air—and the pungent odor of wet manure—flood into the vehicle. When he’d spoken to Katherine on the phone, she had seemed surprised to hear from him about the killings, but she’d agreed to meet. He’d been pleased she had, because his gut told him that meeting he
CHAPTER 21 WHAT THE HELL had she been thinking? Boyd wondered, his stomach twisted in knots. Sneaking up to his house and spying in the window? He splashed more Scotch into his glass, then slid the bottle back into the bottom drawer of his desk. Why the hell would she do such a thing? She wasn’t the stalker type. In fact, she was the most levelheaded chick he’d ever known. Yeah, he knew she’d had issues since the murders—and rightfully so—but shit. What if Lisa had seen her? How in the hell would he have explained it? Like he didn’t already have enough problems without Chelsea going completely batshit on him. The nonstop texting had been bad enough. Lisa still randomly checked his texts and voice mail messages. It was a deal they’d made in front of their couples’ therapist six months ago. Honesty and trust, the therapist had said, were the foundation of all strong relationships, marriages especially. And Lisa had lapped up every bit of it. While she didn’t check his messages every day,
CHAPTER 22 ELIZABETH SAT IN the car, staring out at the brightly lit home across the street from her. She’d driven to Marblehead to do something about Boyd once and for all. Since he’d reentered Chelsea’s life, he’d done nothing but cause problems for her. People like Chelsea were too sensitive to survive the real world alone. They needed people like her to intervene sometimes. To help them with the not-so-pleasant things in life. She would never let Chelsea down like so many other people had in the past. And if things went as planned, Chelsea would never find out about this little visit. It would just be one of the many things Elizabeth didn’t tell her. For her protection, of course. As a child, Elizabeth had suffered a tremendous amount of pain and negligence. When she was barely two years old, her father had overdosed on heroin, and she’d been left in the house with his body for two days. She remembered the flies, holding her ears to keep from hearing their loud, persistent buzzing,
CHAPTER 23 CHELSEA CAME AWAKE with a jerk. She peered around. Where was she? The living room. She was on the couch. Wind gusted outside, and there were shadows on the walls. She looked at her watch: 9:00 p.m. But why was she on the couch? She remembered retreating to her bedroom earlier that afternoon to lie down for a bit before sketching. Then she’d planned on making another dent in her transcription assignment. But she must have drifted off. Had she sleepwalked to the couch? She pulled herself up into a sitting position, took a deep breath, and stretched as she looked around the room. It was still a disaster. She shuffled slowly into the kitchen, picking up plates and trash along the way. She placed the dishes in the sink and righted the trash can. She could see that Harry had been digging around in it again. He’d cleaned the meat off two partially eaten chicken legs, and the bones now sat on her kitchen counter. As she tossed the trash back inside the garbage can, she noticed sever
CHAPTER 24 LANG CAUGHT HIMSELF smiling as he drove to Marblehead to talk again with Boyd Lawson. He was thinking about Janie. He replayed the way she had kissed him last night. How great their conversation had been. It was always so easy to talk with her. He loved being around her, and her visit had reinvigorated him. He had hated to leave her this morning, but he had work to do. Earlier that morning, he’d gotten ahold of a copy of Chelsea’s visitor log from the psychiatric hospital and found out that Katherine hadn’t been telling the truth during their meeting. Why would she have lied about visiting Chelsea? And if they hadn’t been close, like Katherine had said, why visit her? He would need to make another trip to the farm to find out. He thought about Chelsea and wondered again if she knew that Boyd was married. Delores Jones’s journal had painted a picture of a frightened little girl who had endured unimaginable pain. So did Chelsea’s DCF file. And then to have gone through the hor
CHAPTER 25 BOYD HAD MADE it a point to leave before dawn that morning while Lisa was still sleeping. He had left a note saying he had a sales call in Salem. But it was just one more of his lies. He’d needed to get out of the house before she woke up. He knew she wanted to talk to him about something, and the thought of facing another of her suffocating interrogations was too much to stomach. So he drove to Salem and ate a very early breakfast at one of his favorite diners. Afterward, he found a Home Depot and had a new house key made. His had mysteriously disappeared off his key ring. He had no clue how, but the last thing he needed was for Lisa to find out about it. She’d make a huge deal of it and fi
nd some way to blame it on his alcohol use. Before leaving the house, he’d slipped Lisa’s copy off her key ring so he could get the copy made. She wasn’t supposed to be going anywhere today, so hopefully she wouldn’t notice it was gone before he could return it. Over the course of the day
CHAPTER 26 BOYD STARED OUT the window, his mind spinning as he watched Lang leave. Everything was falling apart, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to put all the pieces back together. But he was desperate to buy some time. “Boyd!” His muscles tensed. Lisa’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard. Living with her this way was like dying a slow, painful death. He knew she had questions. Questions he didn’t want to answer. He gulped down the last bit of his Scotch and hid the glass in a desk drawer. He leaned over a document and pretended to be working as she flung open the door. He swung his eyes to her. She stood in the doorway, still in her robe. Even though she was sick, she still managed to look great. He wished he didn’t always notice these things about her. It would be so much easier if she wasn’t so attractive. She studied him, her glare slicing through his skin. “You want to tell me what that was all about?” “He was just following up on some information about those murders in college
CHAPTER 27 AT 11:00 P.M. Chelsea opened the door to find Boyd. He reeked of liquor, and from the way he was leaning against the side of the door frame, it was obvious he had consumed a lot of it. She crossed her arms, anger flaring in her belly. Why was he here? To scold her again for peeping into his windows? But she realized he didn’t look angry. He was staring at the ground. “You’ve been drinking.” He nodded. “Just enough to get the courage to come here.” “Why did you need to come here?” Boyd looked up, making eye contact for the first time, but when he spoke next, his eyes flickered past her. “For a lot of things, but mostly to apologize.” “For?” “For lying to you.” She didn’t say anything. “I warned you I was an asshole,” he said. “A couple of times.” That was true. He had. Numerous times. But she’d thought he was just being funny. “I was telling you the truth about not loving her. I haven’t for a very long time.” “But you’re still married.” “Yeah.” “Were you ever even separated?”
CHAPTER 28 IT WAS HALLOWEEN, and Chelsea was on edge. She drove a nail into the wall with a small utility hammer, then carefully hung the second of her framed sketches. Stepping down from the couch, she looked to see if it was level. She’d meant to frame and hang her sketches months ago and was glad she was finally getting around to it. There was something soothing about the rural landscapes she’d drawn. And she desperately needed soothing today. She was hyperaware that it was Halloween, and the fifth anniversary of the murders. She studied her drawings and thought about how proud she was for standing up to Boyd. It had been liberating. And it had provided closure. There was still lingering pain, a lot of it, but it would probably just take time. Someone knocked on the door. She frowned. Surely Boyd wasn’t coming back again after what she’d told him. She set a third framed sketch on the couch, then went to the door and peeked through the peephole. It was Detective Lang. She unlocked th
CHAPTER 29 LANG LEFT CHELSEA’S apartment and sped the two hours back to Katherine’s farm in Springfield. He’d already had plans to go there today to ask her about the visitor log, but he had wanted to check in with Elizabeth Jessup first. Then Chelsea’s sketches had changed his mind. Right now, he had a hunch. And hunches in his experience were usually gold. He’d always had a great sense of intuition, something that his father, who had also been a detective, had also had. Both his father and another late mentor of his had long ago told a very green Robert Lang that intuition was the secret ingredient that separated the best in the field from everyone else. And if his hunch was wrong? At the very least, he would find out why Katherine had lied about visiting Chelsea at the hospital. He considered calling her, to make sure she’d be home when he got there, but decided against it, once again wanting to capitalize on the element of surprise. As he drove west on Interstate 90, he replayed hi
CHAPTER 30 AROUND 11:00 A.M., it began to storm, and Chelsea found herself having darker thoughts than she’d had for weeks. Maybe months. She sat on the couch, wrapped in her afghan, and sipped wine. Elizabeth turned toward her from the recliner, concern creasing her face. “You okay?” she asked. No. “Yeah,” Chelsea said. Elizabeth was well aware of how Halloween affected her, so she’d gotten there early and was doing her best to distract her. She’d brought three documentaries to watch and a big spread of food. Chips, hummus, sour cream and onion dip, a plate of nachos. She’d also filled the freezer with potpies and TV dinners. All Chelsea’s favorites. Chelsea had already eaten a ton of food. After all, who the hell cared if she got fat? It was more important to feed the pain right now. Crowd it out so nothing else could fit. Network television was airing a special of the fifth anniversary of the Springfield Coed Killings tonight, so they were having a documentary marathon instead. They
CHAPTER 31 ELIZABETH DUCKED DOWN in the front seat of her car as Boyd’s headlights flashed as he drove past her. She’d just watched from three blocks away as he’d burst from his house and jumped into his car. He had been in a big hurry. She’d left Chelsea sleeping at her apartment. Chelsea drank the entire bottle of wine all by herself before 2:00 p.m., then had vomited it all up—along with the enormous amount of food she’d eaten. She’d put Chelsea to bed with some Valium, then driven out to Marblehead. It was barely 4:00 p.m. now, but the sky was prematurely dark due to an approaching storm. As Boyd’s car disappeared around a corner, she felt the fury rise inside her again. She was pissed at herself. She should never have let things go so far with Boyd. No, she never should have let it happen in the first place. She wasn’t happy that it had to come to this, but Boyd had left her no choice. He wouldn’t leave Chelsea alone and was going to ruin everything. She had hoped her first visit
CHAPTER 32 “WHAT THE HELL is going on?” Boyd mumbled to himself, his pulse drumming in his throat. He looked down at his phone, waiting impatiently for another text message to come through. As soon as he’d received the text message, he’d jumped in his car. Now he was sitting at a bar called Leo’s, a dive in East Boston. “Another one?” the bartender asked. She was old and had a thick Irish brogue. He looked up at her, not comprehending what she was saying. Too many thoughts were bouncing around inside his head, swirling and kicking up dust like a tornado. He stared, unseeing, at her coarse red hair. It was threaded with gray strands and was sculpted into one of those beehive hairstyles popular decades ago. A big blue pin in the shape of a butterfly poked out of it. “What the hell is going on?” he asked himself again. “Another whiskey?” she repeated, more loudly. “Oh. Yeah, sure.” She topped off his glass. Leo’s was dark and mostly empty. Other than the Tom Jones song playing quietly on
CHAPTER 33 TWO TWENTY-FIVE-FOOT-TALL SPOTLIGHTS illuminated the pond like a football field as a police diver signaled to the tow-truck driver. The truck clanked and grinded as its pulley slowly turned. Lang stood on the water’s edge along with about a dozen police officers, mechanics, and four men in hazmat suits. They all watched as the vehicle was slowly dragged out of the pond. Lang’s heart pounded as he recognized the car as a silver Lexus. The same make, model, and color as Ethan’s car. Holy shit. As the car neared the shoreline, Lang could make out something, or someone, in the passenger seat. He stood back as the men in the hazmat suits went to the vehicle. It would be a while until there was a positive ID, but Lang already knew who was in the car. Ethan. After all this time, they’d finally found him. Did Katherine know about this? Was this why she’d lied about visiting Chelsea after the killings? Lang waited patiently as the forensics unit gathered evidence and carefully remove
CHAPTER 34 LANG LIMPED INTO the Boston station, his back and knee on fire with every step. The station was musty and old, with fluorescent lights that cast a blue-gray pallor over everything. Uniformed police officers walked in and out of the bustling station, some of them escorting gang members, prostitutes, and drunks—two of them loudly procla
iming their innocence. Lang pushed past them all until he reached the reception desk. The officer sitting behind it looked at Lang with a detached, world-weary gaze. “Can I help you?” Lang flashed his badge and explained who he was, then asked where Katherine Jones was being held. The officer gazed curiously at Lang and picked up a phone. He spoke in hushed tones, and almost as soon as he hung up, Detective Garcia emerged from one of the doors at the far end of the room. “Lang,” he called. “Damn, how did you make it here so fast?” “Getting used to the drive.” “Damn, man.” Lang ignored him. “Let’s go talk to Jones.” “Can’t. She’s lawyered up.” Sh
CHAPTER 35 Meet me at Chelsea’s apartment in thirty minutes. Don’t be late, and don’t be stupid. If you tell anyone or bring anyone, it’s going to get messy. Boyd read the text several times, goose bumps breaking out on his arms. His heart was racing so fast, he could hardly breathe. What the hell was going on? What did Ethan want from him? And why him? “Want another?” the bartender asked. “No.” He pulled a twenty from his wallet and threw it on the bar. He took a deep breath, downed the rest of his drink, and headed out the door.
CHAPTER 36 ELIZABETH WAITED IMPATIENTLY in Chelsea’s kitchen, trying to stifle a yawn. She’d just checked on Chelsea in her bedroom. She was in a deep sleep, courtesy of the special cocktail of pills she’d given her. Now, with most of the lights off, she stood by the kitchen counter and waited. What she was about to do would be risky and had to be handled delicately. She’d taken the necessary precautions in case things didn’t go as planned. She’d found a secure place and had stashed a change of clothes, a fake ID, and other important papers with the money she’d collected from Chelsea’s fireproof safe. It would be enough to keep them going for more than a few months if that was what it came down to. But she hoped it wouldn’t. She didn’t like that she had to do this. It was dangerous, especially with Lang breathing down everyone’s necks. In the past, she’d gotten lucky, but she also knew that luck had a tendency to run out. Shit! Her job would be so much easier if Chelsea would have just
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