by Chris Mooney
The snow is no longer coming down hard and fast, like a great, white curtain, and the wind has died down considerably. I can actually see more than three feet in front of me, and the major roads are being ploughed, making driving easier. Places like Happy Valley Auto are still covered in a blanket so thick and wet the snow almost comes up to my kneecap, and I can feel water melting inside my boots by the time I reach the payphone.
Sarah answers on the first ring.
‘How many minutes are left on your burner?’ I ask.
‘A little over ten.’
‘Is it fully charged?’
‘I charged it before I left the house, like you told me to do.’
I had called Sarah last night after I’d taken care of the trailer. ‘The suitcases?’
‘I have them here with me.’
Her voice is detached, listless; it’s as if all the wiring inside her has been yanked from their power supply. She’s been this way since I told her the truth about what I did inside the Downes house all those years ago, and about my plan to correct my mistake.
And, just as I feared, the truth has changed her. A man who wants to murder children is a monster, and monsters aren’t worthy of forgiveness or redemption. You either put the animal down or you turn your back and run as far and as fast as you can, without looking back.
While I never doubted Sarah’s love, I had underestimated her devotion and loyalty. She’s still in Red Hill, waiting at the prearranged meeting spot – a good sign.
‘Is it done?’ she asks meekly.
‘Almost.’
‘You didn’t tell me she was so pretty.’
‘What?’
‘The FBI consultant. Darby McCormick. She’s on the front page of the Item’s website. She’s beautiful.’
I feel my heart beating in my throat. I didn’t tell Sarah about her.
‘Is she dead?’ Sarah asks.
‘Not yet. I’m working on it.’
‘That’s why you want to stay, isn’t it? You want her.’
‘No.’
‘But you’re thinking about it, aren’t you?’
‘I need to get rid of her and the other one. Once they’re dead, we’ll be safe.’
‘Then let me help you.’
I blink in surprise. ‘You’d do that for me?’
‘Why would you even ask me that? Baby, I would lay down my life for you.’
I feel the trepidation in my heart, and my throat is tight when I say, ‘Sarah, honey, I’m so sorry about –’
‘Stop. Tell me what I can do to help.’
‘I need to do something first. I’ll contact you when I’m ready.’
‘I love you.’
Once I’m seated back behind the wheel, I reach underneath the seat for the rope. It’s sealed inside a clear Ziploc bag. I unzip it and when I press my nose against the bag and inhale the blood and skin and sweat that’s seeped into the rope, in my mind’s eye I see Darby McCormick, her long, auburn hair spilling over her bare shoulders, every delicious inch of her skin exposed. My loins harden and thicken, and I feel the gates to the kingdom of heaven opening.
60
Eli Timothy Savran lived inside a tiny ranch house painted an awful robin’s egg blue. The inside featured mahogany-panelled walls and furniture that had been purchased sometime in the late sixties or early seventies, and the fabrics, curtains, throw pillows and rugs were all depressing shades of brown and dark yellow.
Darby crossed the front door’s threshold with Coop and stepped into a living-room with a low ceiling and a soapstone fireplace. The sliding glass door on the other side of the rug had been opened, along with the windows, and, while the air blowing inside the house was cool and clean and carried the pleasant, smoky odour of a nearby woodstove or fireplace, nothing could erase or lessen the permeating, baked-in reek of spoiled meat and fish that hung about the walls like an obscene presence. Her eyes immediately watered, and the food she had grabbed on her way out of the medical centre and eaten during the drive – a banana, instant coffee and an egg sandwich on soggy toast – immediately revolted inside her stomach. When Williams offered her a paper mask, Darby reached for it like it was a life preserver.
Coop gagged and then used the crook of his arm to cover his nose and mouth. ‘Jesus,’ he said in a muffled voice. ‘Maybe we should call a priest and have him perform an exorcism.’
‘It’s even worse in the bedroom,’ Williams said. Rivulets of sweat ran down his face, and, despite the cold air, the underarms of his blue dress shirt were marred with dark wet circles.
‘You feeling all right?’ Darby asked him.
‘I’m operating on zero sleep, and I think I’m coming down with the flu,’ Williams replied. ‘This way.’
The living-room bled into a small kitchen filled with a dull grey light. A patrolman she didn’t recognize, his mouth and nose covered by a mask, opened the cabinets with gloved hands. As she gingerly fitted the mask over her mouth, Darby heard the old refrigerator’s motor wheezing what seemed like a death rattle.
She heard movement coming from the hall behind her. She turned and saw the patrolman she’d met last night, Griffin, rooting through a bureau drawer.
‘How’s your head?’ Williams asked her.
‘Still on my shoulders,’ Darby replied. ‘How long have you been inside here?’
‘Long enough to know we found our man. This place smells like it was dipped in shit.’
Darby trailed Williams down a hall to the left of the door, the walls decorated with pictures of a stern-looking woman with a dead gaze and a frosted bouffant hairstyle. Darby’s head was pounding; she had to concentrate on where she stepped. Coop stuck close to her side.
‘I understand you came by to see me this morning,’ she said to Williams.
He stopped and looked at her, confused. ‘We talked for a few minutes. Don’t you remember?’
‘No,’ Darby said. ‘What did we talk about?’
‘Teddy. I came to tell you he’s taking over the case.’
‘He came to see us,’ Coop said, and told Williams about Lancaster’s visit to the hospital.
‘How’s Hoder doing?’ Williams asked after Coop had finished.
‘It’s touch and go.’
‘I’m sorry. He’s a good man. So were the other two. They didn’t deserve to go out like that.’
Then she followed Williams into a wallpapered bedroom that looked like it belonged to an adolescent boy. The twin bed had old Star Wars sheets and a matching comforter. The bookcase across from it held paperback science fiction novels, action figures and spaceship models, many of which she didn’t recognize. Autographed pictures of Captain Kirk and Captain Picard were tacked crookedly to the wall above the bookcase.
On top of a small wooden desk Darby spotted a charging cord. She pointed to it and said, ‘Where’s the Mac?’
‘Don’t know. I didn’t find a laptop anywhere in the bedroom, so either it’s in some other part of the house or he took it with him. How do you know he uses a Mac?’
‘The charger at the end of the cord,’ Darby replied. ‘It’s the boxy, magnetic Apple one.’
Williams nodded, then used his forearm to wipe his face. Her attention had drifted up to the wall-mounted shelves above the desk. They were packed with thick computer texts that dwarfed the size of any major metropolitan city phonebook. Futuristic sci-fi weapons encased in clear Plexiglas boxes served as bookends.
‘We found a bottle of neomycin in his medicine cabinet,’ Williams said. ‘Savran gets it from one of those internet pharmacies. Take a look in the closet.’
Darby borrowed a pair of latex gloves from Williams. ‘Coop told me you talked to the guy in charge of the cleaning service.’
Williams nodded. ‘Ron Gondek,’ he said, and again used his forearm to wipe his face. ‘Gondek didn’t have much to do with Savran, either professionally or personally. Told me Savran was pretty much a loner. Kept to himself and preferred to work by himself. But he was reliable, showe
d up to the jobs on time and was never a cause for complaint, except for his BO problem.’
Darby opened the closet door. Pressed dress shirts, trousers and khakis hung from the rack, along with two suits. One was black, the other like the one the Tuttle woman had described – dark brown, double-breasted, a J. C. Penney label stitched on the inside.
Coop, standing behind her, pointed to the single shelf above the clothes and said, ‘Looky looky.’
To the left of the neatly folded wool sweaters were several rolls of duct tape. Behind them she found a box of tracer ammo and a clear plastic bag stuffed with zip ties.
‘Pick up one of those rolls and see if the manufacturer’s name’s on it,’ Coop said. ‘Our lab got the duct tape I sent them. They started work on it this morning and, last time I checked in, were still trying to run down the brand.’
Darby pinched a roll between her fingers and read the label printed on the inside cardboard tube. ‘It’s called “Tough Armour”,’ she said.
‘Never heard of it.’ Coop removed the satphone from his pocket.
‘Hold up,’ Williams said. ‘We need to have a talk.’
61
‘About what?’ Darby asked.
‘About Teddy and the call you got this morning from our AG,’ Williams said. ‘I’m inclined to take their threat seriously. So should you two.’
Darby felt her pulse jump in her throat. ‘Two agents are dead, one’s in critical condition, Coop and I almost got our heads blown off last night and you’re expecting us to, what, go back to the hotel and order room service?’
Williams held up a hand. ‘Let me finish,’ he said softly. ‘Teddy’s in charge of this thing now, which means I’m supposed to call the son of a bitch and tell him about Eli Savran. Now, I don’t want to do that, but the truth is I have to, because I’ve got a solid suspect who’s currently MIA. The boys and I have been taking turns keeping an eye on this shithole since four, and his vehicle, a ’96 forest-green Ford Bronco, wasn’t here; nor has it been seen anywhere in town yet. For all we know, Savran bolted after the pyrotechnic display he put on last night at the French house. He could be in another state by now. So, in addition to everything else that’s going on, I’ve got a manhunt on my hands. I had to put in a call to the state police and the US Marshals Service. I’ve already got a judge to sign off on Savran’s bank statements and credit cards.’
Williams mopped at his face again. ‘An APB went out on Savran and his vehicle, so it’s only a matter of time before Teddy finds out and shows up here,’ he said. ‘My career’s already deep-sixed, so Teddy can’t hurt me. But if he finds out you two still have your fingers in his pie, I can guarantee he’ll lock you up to make sure you’re out of the way until Savran’s found and arrested. He’s never going to let you two get in the way of him and his glory; I’m sure he’s already got the reporters lined up.’
Coop said, ‘We get it, Ray. Lancaster’s a dickhead – the pied piper of assholes. But he’s strictly amateur league. He can’t compete with the pros Darby and I have played with in the MLD.’
‘MLD?’ Williams asked.
‘Major League Douchebaggery,’ Coop said. ‘The Bureau’s going to want answers for what happened to Hoder, Otto and Hayes, so I’m not about to sit on the sidelines. I don’t think you should either.’
‘I wasn’t planning on it. If we get Savran before Teddy and his men, we’ll get credit for the collar, and that’ll play well in the press. I’m betting the assholes in Brewster who’ve been jerking us around ever since this incorporation thing started won’t fire or lay off anyone right away because that wouldn’t look good, now would it?’
‘I agree with your thinking, Ray. To make the case against Savran stick, though, you’re going to need all the evidence you can get. The Bureau is currently running down some of it for you right now. This morning we came across something that’s a game changer.’
Then Coop moved to the bedroom door, shut it and returned. ‘Nicky Hubbard,’ he said in a low voice, as though someone were eavesdropping. ‘Her name ring any bells?’
‘The girl who was kidnapped back in the eighties?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘What about her?’
‘The corner of the bedroom the killer cleaned with bleach? We found her fingerprint there. On the skirting board.’
Williams stiffened.
‘I got the call this morning,’ Coop said. ‘Now I can’t tell you when she was inside the bedroom, but I can tell you she was in there at some point because the fingerprint is –’
‘Hold it, just hold it,’ Williams barked. His mask was soaked with sweat. ‘This is the first I’ve heard about a fingerprint.’
‘We didn’t think it had anything to do with the Downes case.’
‘You just said you found it inside the bedroom.’
‘Let me explain. This print was etched in the polyurethane. For that print to be there, she had to have touched the poly while it was in the process of drying. When it hardened, it preserved her print.’
‘So it can’t be wiped away?’
‘No. It’d be like taking a rag to something set in concrete. I don’t think the killer knew the print was there; we only found it using an alternative light source. I think he was concerned about wiping down that area to destroy any remaining blood – Hubbard ’s blood. I think he killed Hubbard there at some point and then, after he finished with the Downes family, he decided to wipe down that area again with bleach so we wouldn’t be able to link that blood back to Hubbard. Can you imagine what would happen if the news got out her blood had been found at the scene of a triple homicide more than three decades later?’
Williams stared at the snow-caked window glowing with a dull, grey light. ‘This place would turn into a zoo overnight,’ he said quietly.
‘It’d be a goddamn stampede. Hubbard’s case would be reopened; Red Hill would be all over the news channels, in every major newspaper. The killer would have nowhere to hide. He’d have to pack up and run, which, as you know, isn’t as easy as it sounds.’
‘Jesus.’ Williams rubbed a gloved hand across the back of his head. ‘Jesus,’ he said again. ‘You’re sure about the print?’
‘Positive. If your guys find Savran first, will they call you or will they get on the horn to Lancaster?’
‘Most of ’em don’t have any love for Teddy.’ Williams’s voice had taken on a far-away, almost dreamy tone as he struggled to process the news.
A serial killer who had tortured and killed several families over the course of a year was taxing enough on a small law-enforcement agency. Add to that a fingerprint belonging to one of the greatest crime mysteries of the twentieth century – it was overwhelming.
‘Ray?’ Coop prompted.
‘Sorry. Yeah, I think they’d call me first. That being said, someone might call him thinking Teddy’ll give him a job in the sheriff’s office once the incorporation goes through. I guess we won’t know until it happens.’
‘Call me shallow for thinking this, but I don’t want a jerk-off like Lancaster to get any credit. A case like this comes around once in a lifetime, if at all.’
Williams’s eyes were bright with meaning. Darby saw some dread there – and some excitement too. Finding out what had happened to Hubbard would open up a whole new world of career prospects.
‘Small problem,’ Williams said. ‘Once Teddy finds out, he’ll –’
‘I can guarantee you he won’t. The lab know Hubbard is a hot button, which is why they called me directly instead of putting it out over IAFIS. The only three people who know about it are standing inside this room.’
Inside the bookcase Darby found a picture frame wedged between a pair of hardcover Star Wars books. As she removed it, Coop said, ‘We need to keep this quiet until you’ve got Savran in custody.’
‘Teddy is going to want his people to process this house,’ Williams said. ‘I can’t stop him from doing that.’
‘So let him. All we need to do is
to find Savran.’
Darby assumed the picture inside the frame had been taken at a wedding, given the elaborate floral arrangement sitting on a white linen tablecloth set with china and crystal goblets. The table was empty; a tall man and the stern-looking woman Darby had seen in the hallway pictures stood to the left of it, staring into the camera.
Coop said to Williams, ‘You want to nail Savran to the wall, you’re going to need us to nail down the evidence. I’ve got to call the lab and tell them about the brand of duct tape, see if it matches what I FedExed them yesterday.’
‘You need to stay off Teddy’s radar screen.’
‘Which is why Darby and I will work out of the chief’s office. Once you’ve got Savran in custody, all I want is to have a run at him.’
‘Fair enough,’ Williams said.
‘We’ll keep in touch with these.’ Coop handed Williams a satphone. ‘I’ve got Hoder’s. I’ll write down our numbers.’
Darby looked at the picture. The tall man was bald and jowly and had an egg-shaped face, and he wore the brown suit that was hanging in the closet. He stood shoulder to shoulder with the petite woman who, Darby assumed, was his mother. They held their hands rigidly by their sides, their faces set with the hard and joyless expressions of two people who were about to be greeted by a firing squad.
Williams pointed at the woman and said, ‘That’s Thelma Savran. She died about two years back.’
‘You knew her?’
‘I’d bump into her from time to time at the grocery store over on Route Six. She was always one of those lonely women who just liked to talk to people, you know? She told me she had a son but that he couldn’t come home to see her because he lived in another state, Texas or Louisiana, I think.’
‘What about her husband? He still alive?’ Darby was wondering if Savran might be on his way to see his father, to seek refuge. She had been involved in cases where the parent went out of their way to protect their grown child.
‘I’ll get on it. I’m assuming that’s Eli in the photo. Face bears a strong resemblance to his driver’s licence photo.’