Grace absorbed the information. “So, why do you think the mayor’s next?”
“Mayor Reynosa warned me off the Raymond Miller case.”
“The mayor has protection. How could the killer kidnap him and carve him up?”
“He got the bishop, didn’t he?”
Grace had to give her that one. “This could be a political nightmare. I can’t just walk up to the mayor and say, ‘Hey, I think you’re next on the list of the serial killer. Do you mind not talking to strangers?’”
“If you say nothing and something happens, then what?”
“Shit!” Grace ran her hands through her hair in frustration.
Chapter Twenty-nine
“The mayor will see you now.” A conservatively dressed woman approached Grace. She rose and straightened her jacket as she followed the woman into the office. She noted a man with a crooked bow tie sitting at a desk, who kept his eyes to the floor as she passed, looking like a scolded puppy.
“Detective, please have a seat.” The mayor remained seated and gestured to the chair across his desk. “What can I do for our city’s finest?”
“Thank you for taking the time to see me, sir. I’m investigating the murder of Bishop Pallone.”
“That is a travesty. What kind of monster would kill a man of God?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out, sir. I was hoping to ask you a few questions.”
“I’m not sure what help I will be.”
“Well, sir, there’s a possibility that the killer may be forming a pattern, announcing his next victim.”
“How so?”
Grace went through Elizabeth’s theory, but wisely left her name out during the explanation of the placement of the bodies of Father Rossi, Sullivan, and the bishop.
The mayor turned his chair sideways, so that he could see out the window, and Grace only had a view of his profile. “So you believe that the next victim is who exactly?”
“You, sir.”
He turned back to face her and raised his eyebrows. “Me? Why me?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, sir, your connection to all of this. Did you know the other victims?”
Mayor Reynosa leaned forward and steepled his hands on the desk. “A man is left dead on the doorstep of city hall, and you think that is a sign that I’m the next victim? Do you know how many people work in this building? How do you know this monster’s message isn’t a message of anti-establishment, whether it’s a church or a city?”
It wasn’t lost on Grace that the mayor didn’t answer her question. “Yes, sir, but we must look at all possibilities. Sir, where did you go to high school?”
“How is that relevant?” the mayor asked, clearly annoyed.
Before Grace could respond, the man that was seated outside entered, urgently announcing the mayor’s next meeting. Offering his apologies, the mayor rose and walked her to the door with a request that she keep him posted of any developments personally.
*
Elizabeth stood in front of the old mill building as Grace used her bolt cutters to break the lock. She was surprised when Grace called and said that she wanted to search the mill. She would rather have broken in with Father Parker because she would have more freedom to do as she wanted, but didn’t hesitate when Grace made the offer.
“So this is what it feels like to enter a building with a warrant,” Elizabeth teased as she watched the now defunct lock and chain fall to the ground. “It’s a bit anticlimactic.”
Grace didn’t respond, but instead jerked opened one of the double doors, and the hinges squealed in protest as evidence of the years that the building stood abandoned. Elizabeth retrieved her bolt cutters from the ground, hefted her backpack on her shoulder, and entered, while Grace hesitated at the entryway. The building was an open room with iron beams crisscrossing the high ceiling. Large windows that ringed the walls were boarded up; however, a series of smaller windows near the top of the room were left uncovered. Dust particles seemed to effortlessly float on the light beams that streamed through the dirty and cracked glass, making a checkered pattern on the cement floor.
Other than a thick layer of dust that coated the floor, along with a few discarded boxes and newspaper refuse, the room appeared vacant. There was no furniture, machinery, or other evidence that this was once a working mill.
“This place has been cleared out,” Elizabeth said.
Grace remained near the door looking up, taking in the structure of the windows and ceiling. In response to Elizabeth’s voice, she moved forward and began inspecting the interior of the building.
Elizabeth circled the inside and kicked the few remaining boxes that proved to be empty and picked up one of the discarded newspapers dated July 1982. “I’d say this place has been vacant for a while. It looks like they cleared it out around the same time the school closed.”
When she didn’t respond, she turned to find Grace standing in the far corner staring at the ground. “What is it?” Elizabeth asked, approaching her.
Grace didn’t answer, but instead crouched down to stare at a wooden trap door in the floor. “It looks like a cellar door,” Elizabeth said. She reached over her and yanked on the frayed rope, and the door gave way to reveal a set of wooden steps. She dropped her backpack, removed her flashlight, and started down the steps, which led directly into a dirt tunnel, and she could smell the dank earth around her. The tunnel was smaller and more crudely formed.
“I think this tunnel was more recently dug, probably to join up with the other tunnel at the school,” she said and was startled to find Grace standing directly behind her. Elizabeth found a sense of comfort in her close proximity and moved forward following the narrow tunnel, its shape or size never changing, which affirmed her belief that it was a fairly recent addition, more hastily constructed. It appeared that it was built for the sole purpose of acting as a passageway.
After nearly fifty yards, it came to an abrupt end, and a large mound of earth blocked her way. “This must be the cave-in I saw on the other side.” Grace remained silent, but Elizabeth could hear her soft breathing. She knew Grace was uncomfortable in confined spaces.
Elizabeth shined her light through the small cavern, assuring herself that there was no other way through, and then ran her palm over the packed dirt that blocked the egress to the remainder of the tunnel. The dirt was cool and dry, unlike the moist earth wall on the other end. With nowhere else to go, she started to turn, but stumbled when she stepped on a loose rock. Grace reached out to catch her and wrapped her arm around Elizabeth’s waist to steady her. Elizabeth allowed herself to fall into the embrace, closing her eyes, and for a short moment, relished the warmth that traveled through her before Grace released her hold.
“Are you all right?” Grace asked with true concern.
“Yes,” Elizabeth responded in barely more than a whisper. “My foot just got caught up. Thank you.”
The conversation suddenly strained between them.
“So, umm, I guess, we should head back up,” Grace suggested.
Elizabeth turned to exit the tunnel with a sudden sense of urgency, while Grace lingered behind for a moment.
Carrying the recent imprint of Grace’s warmth on her body, Elizabeth quickly ascended the stairs, snatched up her backpack, and walked toward the center of the vacated room, craving the open space to clear her suddenly cluttered thoughts. With a need to focus her mind elsewhere, she turned in a slow circle, taking in the large room once again, training her eyes to take in the finer details of the construction.
After several moments, Grace approached. “So, ready to head out?”
“Door,” Elizabeth exclaimed.
“I closed it,” Grace said, gesturing to the wooden door in the floor.
“No, that’s a door.” She pointed to a far wall and moved to it. She could hear Grace’s footsteps following behind her and knew that if she made an unexpected stop, she would probably run into the back of her. As tempting as it was, s
he stayed on course and walked to the door. “See, it’s flush with the wall.”
Grace ran her hand over the door and came to a small metal latch that popped out when she pressed in. The latch served as a handle, and she pushed down on it, but the door didn’t move. After a few more attempts, she sighed in defeat. “Damn, it’s stuck or something.”
“Let me try.” Elizabeth pulled up on the latch, the lock released, and she slid the door open. Before Grace could ask, she responded, “Always strive for up,” and walked into the windowless room.
The stark room with white walls and a white tile floor stood bare but for a single light that hung in the center of the room and a small white built-in counter against the far wall. Elizabeth moved to the counter and opened the drawers and found them all empty. The room was left much tidier than the rest of the mill.
“It looks like they spent more time cleaning up in here,” Grace said.
“This was Geizler’s room.”
They both remained still. Elizabeth looked up and watched a spider creep along near the top of the wall above the counter, toward an air-conditioning vent. The color of the spider stood in contrast to the bleak room, and its movement seemed jarring in the suffocating stillness. It was as though the spider wouldn’t be defined by its surroundings. She carefully observed the spider’s actions as it circled around the vent cover looking for entry. After traveling the perimeter of the vent cover, the spider victoriously found its entrance at the top through the upward-pointing slats. She didn’t begrudge the spider for wanting to leave the white room. She felt the same need to escape it.
Feeling the loss of the spider, she turned to Grace. “Let’s go. There’s nothing here.”
Grace followed her out of the room and slid the door closed behind her. Elizabeth didn’t wait for her and exited out of the mill. Her body felt much heavier than when she first entered. The white room burdened her.
Grace meticulously closed the outside mill doors and wrapped the chain through the door handles to give the appearance that the building hadn’t been disturbed. Although Elizabeth glanced at her as she walked to Grace’s government-issued car, her mind paid little attention to what she was doing. She yanked open the passenger door and tossed her backpack into the backseat before climbing in. She was slightly startled to find that Grace had already reached the car and was settling in behind the wheel.
Before Elizabeth could put on her seat belt, Grace started the ignition and put the car into reverse, and Elizabeth was assaulted by air blasting through the car vent, forcing her to let go of the seat belt to push the vent up. Elizabeth yanked again on the seat belt to stretch it across her body, but released it and let the buckle slap against the top of the seat when it retracted.
“Stop the car,” she commanded.
“What?” Grace asked without looking at her.
“We have to go back,” she said as she opened the car door while the car was still going in reverse.
Grace hit the brakes, and Elizabeth jumped out and slammed the car door shut. She opened the back door, pulled out her backpack, and trotted back to the mill door, then unceremoniously pulled off the broken chain. Grace was behind her and helped pull open the door.
“What are you doing?” she asked as she followed Elizabeth, trying to keep up.
Elizabeth stayed focused on her thoughts and remained silent. She pulled open the sliding door and stepped in.
“Are you going to tell me what we are doing?”
Elizabeth pointed up to the air-conditioning vent. “See the cover?”
Grace looked up. “Yeah, so?”
“It’s upside down.”
Grace stared at her, and Elizabeth blew out a breath. “See the slats on the vent cover? They should be pointing down, so that the air blows down into the room. The way the cover is put on, the slats are pointing up, blowing the air to the ceiling.” She watched Grace, waiting for it to sink in.
“You think someone took the cover off and put it back on upside down?”
“Exactly. The question is why?”
“I guess this is where one of us crawls up there and takes off the cover?” Grace asked.
“Considering I’m wearing a skirt and you’re not, you’re the better candidate.”
Grace trailed her eyes down Elizabeth’s skirt. “Fine, I’ll go up.”
Elizabeth dug into her backpack and pulled out a screwdriver.
“Of course you walk around with a screwdriver. You walk around with bolt cutters, why not a screwdriver?” She spoke more to herself than to Elizabeth as she hopped onto the counter and reached down for the screwdriver.
She released the hold the four screws had on the cover and passed them down to Elizabeth along with the cover and screwdriver. She reached into the vent. “I got something here.” She pulled her arm back out, holding an object wrapped in a plastic bag, and passed it down to Elizabeth, who handed her a flashlight in exchange.
“Make sure there’s nothing else in there.”
Grace dutifully scanned the inside of the vent with the light. “That’s it. Nothing else here.” Just as she handed the light back and hopped down, she screeched and swatted at her arm. A spider fell to the floor and started scurrying away, and she moved to step on it.
“Don’t!” Elizabeth scolded. “Leave it be.”
“You’re defending a spider. Why does that not surprise me?”
Grace quickly forgot about the spider as Elizabeth opened the clear plastic bag and pulled out a light brown leather book. The book was stuffed full of papers, and a thin rope was tied around it to keep its contents from spilling out. The plastic bag kept the book well preserved.
Elizabeth reached for the thin rope that was tied into a neat bow.
“No, not here,” Grace said. “Let’s get out of here first.”
Elizabeth clutched the book to her chest, making her way once again back outside the mill. Grace again pulled the mill door closed and began the task of replacing the chain.
“You know, we should dig up under the tree.” Grace jumped at her voice, clearly unaware that Elizabeth was standing behind her.
“What?” she asked without taking her eyes off the chain.
“The lovers’ tree behind the school. You should get a warrant to dig that up. You can tell them what we found here,” Elizabeth stated, watching Grace’s hand movements slow.
Grace didn’t look at her.
“Oh my God, you really didn’t have a warrant to go in there. We broke in,” Elizabeth exclaimed. “There’s hope for you yet.”
Grace finally completed fiddling with the chain and looked at her. “No, I didn’t have a warrant. Trust me, no one but you and me are interested in finding out about this case. The mayor, my supervisor, they all want this to go away.”
Elizabeth now understood her earlier hesitation to enter the mill and her compulsive disorder to meticulously replace the chain. Grace’s defiance of her superiors surprised her; maybe she had misjudged her.
*
Grace and Elizabeth sat in the parking lot of Starbucks, each gripping their cups of expensive coffee and staring down at the book that rested in Elizabeth’s lap.
“We shouldn’t open it. I should put it back in the bag, take it to the station, and log the book into evidence,” Grace said.
“What good will that do? It’s fruit of the poisonous tree. You didn’t have a warrant to go into the mill, so the seizure of this book was illegal. It’s not admissible. If you turn it in, we will probably never see it again. You said yourself that no one wants this case investigated. It’s much more useful to us if we open it.” Elizabeth suspected that Grace knew all this, but needed to hear her say it.
When Grace offered no further protest, Elizabeth set her cup in the center holder and slowly and carefully untied the rope bow as though cutting the proverbial red wire.
“Here goes nothing,” she breathed out with her stomach in knots. She didn’t know what secrets the book held, but assumed it was important if it
had been left hidden. She could feel Grace leaning in for a better view.
She opened the front cover, and the spine of the book made a slight cracking sound as it was bent back. A neat script covered the first page of lined paper, and she drew in a breath and starting flipping through the pages. Each page contained similar script.
Elizabeth closed her eyes. “It’s all in German.”
Grace sat back in her seat. “Of course it is.”
Elizabeth began pulling out the extraneous papers that were shoved inside. “These look like German newspaper articles.” She pulled out a few black-and-white photographs that depicted men posing together, but were otherwise nondescript. Each picture contained the same neat script on the back as though memorializing the occasion.
“This is a bit anticlimactic.” Grace sighed in defeat.
“Don’t give up so easily.”
“Well, my German is as good as my Mandarin. I don’t suppose you have a German translator stuffed in your backpack?”
“No, but I do know someone who’s fluent in German and can help us out.”
She pulled out her phone and dialed Professor Horace Pratt.
Chapter Thirty
“So who would have thought to combine a coffee shop with a book and music store?” Father Parker asked as he browsed a selection of CDs.
“Add dry cleaning and I’m golden.” Elizabeth smiled, standing at his side.
Some might have thought it strange to ask a priest to go shopping, but she missed his friendship. She had been on edge since she left the journal with Professor Pratt and needed a distraction, and she found comfort in his company. She thought of calling Grace, but that only tied her stomach in knots.
“I’m sorry you missed the mill.”
“Oh yes, me too,” Father Parker said, doing his best to feign sincerity.
“Hey, you just lied!”
“Doesn’t count. I had my fingers crossed.” He lifted his hand to show the X he formed with his fingers.
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