Ellie brought up Google on her phone. She typed in Immaculate Conception Killings, Blessed Heart of Mary.
The first result was a lengthy Wikipedia article about the murders. She wanted to find the date of the first murder. And there it was in a sidebar listing of Lyle Duncan Wheeler’s victims: Greta Mae Louden, 19 (strangled) 9/14/70.
That was fifty years ago last night.
Diana died on the fiftieth anniversary of the first murder.
Ellie returned to Google, selected Images and typed in Greta Mae Louden.
A slightly blurry black-and-white high school senior portrait of the girl came up: fair-haired, slightly chubby, a cute smile. She looked a lot like Diana—almost a dead ringer.
* * *
Ellie always thought the teachers’ parking lot behind the old science building, Martinsen Hall, could have used some more lights. It was slightly sinister at night. It didn’t help that the lot was practically empty now. As she approached her Toyota, Ellie could see the front gate to the grotto arboretum across the street.
With her key already out, she pressed the device on the fob to unlock the car door. She picked up her pace as she got closer to the car.
Ellie remembered what Hannah had said about the fiftieth anniversary of the Immaculate Conception murders: The laundry room fire last week had occurred on the same date as a student had murdered her newborn baby and set him on fire in one of the bungalows in 1970; and Eden O’Rourke had vanished Friday evening or, more likely, early on Saturday—the same date Lyle Duncan Wheeler had abducted Crystal Juneau. Then yesterday, exactly fifty years after Greta Mae Louden had been strangled, her lookalike, Diana, died in an apparent suicide.
Ellie was tempted to phone Detective Castino again and point out how all these recent incidents matched up with the Immaculate Conception Killer’s timeline. But the detective would probably just dismiss it as another of her wild theories.
Ellie finally reached her car, opened the door, and ducked inside. Shutting the door, she immediately locked it.
Her phone buzzed, startling her. The caller ID said: O’Rourke, Hannah. It wasn’t a text. She was calling to talk.
“Hello, Hannah?” Ellie said into the phone.
“Hi. I’m sorry to call you this late—”
“It’s only nine o’clock. What’s going on? You sound a little stressed.”
“I just came back from the Sunnyside Up Café. Actually, I ran back. I talked to a waitress there. She said Eden had dinner at the café on Friday night—and she was talking with somebody. He even paid for her dinner. This is right before she disappeared . . .”
“Did the waitress there have any idea who the guy was?” Ellie asked anxiously.
“She described him to me. It was the guy from our class, the same one who was talking to me at the pool on Friday . . .”
“Nick Jensen?”
“Yeah, Nick Jensen, the guy you warned me about . . .”
Tuesday, 9:50 P.M.
It didn’t look like Nick Jensen was home.
Ellie had his address in her notebook inside her purse: 812 Sunset Ridge Road, number 17 in Highland Park. It was a working-class neighborhood. The apartment building looked as if it had been built in the sixties: an L-shaped two-story structure with a beige brick facade. All of the apartments had outside entries. On the second story, flower boxes hung from the railing along the walkway, but most of the plants in the boxes looked dead.
Ellie slowly drove around the building and noted that each apartment had a back door that opened onto a fire escape walkway. She parked across the street, climbed out of the car, and hurried to where the mailboxes were. She found N. Jensen printed with a label-maker on mailbox number seventeen.
She found his apartment on the upper level. The drapes were shut, but it looked like a light was on. She couldn’t imagine he’d be able to keep Eden captive in the apartment—unless she was drugged, gagged, and tied to his bed.
Ellie wanted to bang on the door and confront him right now. But how stupid and reckless would that be?
Retreating to her car, she tried to think about the best strategy. If she could break into his apartment while he was gone, maybe she could find some evidence linking him to Eden’s disappearance and Diana’s murder—something she could show Detective Castino.
She wondered if Nick Jensen was the one who had stolen Look Homeward, Angel from the library. The earliest record she had of him was a customer review of his massage work in April, the same month the book had been listed as missing.
Ellie took out her phone and checked Nick’s customer reviews again. Every few moments, she looked up to make sure the curtain in his apartment hadn’t moved. With her phone light on, she would be easily spotted.
She looked at the customer names and dates: J. Reynolds, Highwood, IL (4/15/20); B. Riddle, Lake Bluff, IL (5/30/20); M. Freeman, Sheboygan, WI (6/5/20) . . .
Why did Sheboygan ring a bell?
Then Ellie remembered. She typed in another name for a Google search and clicked on the first search result. It was the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel article dated June 7. The headline read:
SHEBOYGAN GIRL DIES IN BICYCLE ACCIDENT
Kayla Kennedy Was Known for Heroic Rescue of Drowning Mother and Child
Sheboygan was about two hours away. Had Nick been spending the night there on June 5? Maybe he was making some money with massage work while in town on other “business.” Kayla had been killed early the following morning.
Nick seemed to have a keen interest in Hannah and Eden. Had he been interested in Rachel’s previous roommate as well? Or was it all just a coincidence?
Ellie set the phone facedown on the passenger seat to diminish the light. Then she glanced up at Nick’s window again. The curtain hadn’t moved.
She kept thinking about the fire escape in back. Maybe she could watch the place tomorrow night, wait until he left, and then break in somehow. Maybe she’d find a window left unlocked. But she was no master at housebreaking. It wouldn’t be easy.
She spotted someone jogging toward the building and realized it was Nick.
Ellie quickly slumped down in the driver’s seat. She watched him across the street as he slowed down and staggered to the apartment building’s stairway. His gray T-shirt was stained with sweat. He grabbed the railing and caught his breath for a moment. Then he glanced at his watch or his pace-tracker; in the distance, Ellie couldn’t tell which. He started up the stairs and continued down the walkway. When he reached his door, he glanced around and then furtively took a pot out of the flower box, grabbed something, and then turned and unlocked his door. Before he stepped inside, he returned the key to the flower box and set the plant pot on top of it.
Ellie couldn’t help smiling. “Thank you, Nick,” she whispered.
Maybe it would be easy after all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Wednesday, September 16, 2:49 P.M.
From her desk, Hannah glanced up at the classroom clock. She was anxious for class to end. She’d had difficulty paying much attention to Ellie during the session. She kept thinking about how she had to get together with her—and someone else—after class.
Several times, she’d sneaked a glance over her shoulder at Nick Jensen in the back row, only to find him staring back at her with that same dopey, innocent smile on his face. She wondered exactly what part he’d played in Eden’s disappearance.
As promised, her parents had phoned last night—separately. She figured her mom was giving her dad the silent treatment. They both sounded tired and on edge. They wanted to wait one more night—and if no one heard from Eden by morning, they’d call the school or the Delmar Police. Hannah didn’t tell them anything about Nick Jensen buying Eden dinner on Friday night.
Class finally ended. Gathering her things, Hannah got to her feet. She surreptitiously nodded at Ellie and then joined the students heading for the door. She felt someone brush against her arm. Flinching, Hannah turned.
Nick gave her that innocent smil
e again. “Hey, how’s it going?”
“Fine,” Hannah answered. She inched away from him.
“Is your sister okay? She isn’t here today, and I noticed she missed class on Monday, too.”
They headed into the crowded corridor together. Hannah realized she’d have to delay her clandestine rendezvous with Ellie and company and keep walking with him for a while. “I wasn’t aware that you knew Eden,” she said coolly.
“Not very well,” he said. “But I ran into her the other night—Friday. In fact, we sort of had dinner together at the Sunnyside Up. It wasn’t a date or anything. She was finishing up and I was just starting . . .”
Hannah was surprised he admitted it. But maybe that was where he was being clever—pretending he had nothing to hide. “What did you two talk about?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Nothing much really.”
“She didn’t tell you about her plans for the weekend?”
“No. Why? What did she do over the weekend?”
“You have no idea?” Hannah asked as they stepped outside.
“I don’t remember her saying anything.”
Hannah didn’t break her stride. She headed for the quad. “Well, Eden decided to have herself an adventure in Chicago. She’s still there—as far as I know.”
“You mean, she just decided to ditch her classes the last three days?”
“You didn’t see her in journalism class Monday or today, so you figure it out.”
“And she’s been in Chicago all this time? On her own? Aren’t you worried?”
Staring straight ahead, she nodded. “Yeah. We haven’t heard from her since Sunday night, and even then, it was just a quick text. My parents are calling the police soon. Since you were one of the last ones to see her before she went off on this toot Friday night, the cops will probably want to talk with you.”
He stopped in his tracks—but for only a second. Still, it was enough for Hannah to read his apprehension. “Um, okay, sure,” he replied. “But like I say, she really didn’t say anything to me about her plans.”
“Just the same, could I get your number?” She stopped and took out her phone. “I’m sure they’ll want to talk with you.”
He nodded a few more times than necessary and gave her his phone number.
“Thanks,” Hannah said. She noted the ten digits and then shoved the phone in her purse and started walking again.
“I hope she calls you or shows up soon,” he said.
“Well, if she doesn’t, you’ll probably hear from the police.”
“Anything I can do to help,” he said feebly.
“Where are you off to now?” she asked. “The pool again?”
He shrugged. “Um, no . . .”
“Well, unless you’d planned on following me to the library, I’ll say goodbye now.”
Stopping again, he gave a bewildered laugh. “Oh, all right then. Well, nice talking to you. Keep me posted about your sister, okay?”
“Will do!” she called—with her back to him.
Hannah kept walking. She was so proud of herself for coming up with that business about the police contacting him. That really threw him for a loop. She couldn’t wait to tell Ellie about it.
* * *
Five minutes later, she was standing at the top of the stairs by the bridge over the ravine, not far from the library entrance. Hannah was in the pedestrian lane, which hardly anyone ever used. From there, she had an ideal view of the quad. “You should have seen how nervous he got all of a sudden—once I mentioned the police,” she said into the phone. “I thought he was going to shit a brick.”
“I hope you didn’t push him too far,” Ellie said on the other end of the line. “We don’t want him thinking you suspect anything. Where is he now?”
“Like I said, the last I saw of him, he turned and headed in the other direction, back toward Lombard Hall. It looks like he hasn’t come back. Can I come join you?”
“Better wait a few more minutes—just to make sure the coast is clear,” Ellie said. “And, by the way, good job throwing him off our trail. When I saw him latch on to you after class, I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to shake him. See you in a few minutes.”
* * *
When she walked into the student union seven minutes later, Hannah was certain Nick Jensen hadn’t been following her. She had kept checking behind her, and hadn’t seen him.
The union wasn’t crowded. She easily spotted Ellie and Alden sitting at a four-top table. A framed vintage Our Lady of the Cove T-shirt hung on the wall above the table, with a little spotlight on it. Ellie and Alden each had a cup of coffee in front of them. They both glanced at her as she approached their table.
Hannah couldn’t help focusing on Alden, who looked cute in his new glasses. He was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, a nice edgy contrast to the Clark Kent spectacles.
“So did Ellie brief you?” she asked him as she sat down.
“You mean about the misdemeanor we’re pulling off?” he replied.
“I’m the only one committing a crime in this scheme,” Ellie said in a hushed tone. “Even then, I don’t think it’s quite breaking and entering if I’m using a key. All you’re doing, Alden, is scheduling a massage with him so I know he’ll be out of his apartment. By the time he gets to your dorm, realizes you aren’t there, and heads home again, I’ll have had about forty-five minutes to check his place.”
“So—are you in?” Hannah asked him.
Alden nodded. “I’ve already texted him and requested a sixty-minute session—any time after four tomorrow or Friday.”
Ellie glanced at her wristwatch. “Speaking of appointments, I need to meet a student at a quarter to four. I should get going.” She reached over and squeezed Alden’s arm. “You are a sweetheart to do this for us. Thank you. And please, let me know the minute you hear back from our suspect.” Getting to her feet, she grabbed her purse and glanced at Hannah. “Can I have one quick word with you before I go?”
Hannah got up and followed her a few steps away from the table. Ellie finally stopped and whispered to her. “Oh, Hannah, he’s a peach—and so sweet.”
Hannah just nodded. She didn’t want to tell Ellie that Alden might be gay. She still hoped she had a chance with him. Heading back to the table, she realized this would actually be her first time alone with him for more than a few minutes.
“What was the private powwow about?” Alden asked.
“Ellie just wants me to call her later,” she lied. She started to sit down.
“I’m done here,” he said, nodding at his coffee. “Want to head back to the bungalow and hang out?”
“I’m pretty sure Rachel’s got something after class today,” Hannah said. “She might not be back until five or six.”
“So? Can’t just the two of us hang out together?” He stood up.
She nodded. “Sure. That’s cool.”
He walked alongside her, and they started for the exit. “Y’know, I’m kind of flattered you picked me for this assignment,” he said.
“Well, you’re the only guy I know around here—and I trust you. Anyway, thanks for agreeing to do it.” She shrugged. “You might even want to consider having the massage. You might like him. He’s a real hottie . . .”
As they stepped outside, Alden paused and gave her an incredulous grin. “Why would you say that?”
Hannah stopped. “Uh... I don’t know . . .”
He laughed. “Hannah, I’m not gay. Did Rachel tell you that?” They started walking again. Alden shook his head. “Ever since she caught Jason McIntire and me experimenting behind the tennis courts at her parents’ summer home, Rachel’s been convinced I’m gay. Jason and I were eleven at the time—and it was his idea to mess around, not mine.”
“So, how come you’re not dating Rachel?”
“Because I grew up with her,” he said. “It would be like dating my big sister—borderline incest. Plus I’m related to the help, and no daughter of Richard and Candace Bonner
can let herself get involved with the son of a servant girl.”
Hannah didn’t say anything for a moment. She never fully realized the class chasm between Rachel and Alden. “If something like that did happen, it would be really romantic,” she said as they headed toward the bridge. “It’s right out of Wuthering Heights.”
“Well, it’s not going to happen,” he replied. “Besides, like I say, I’m just not interested in Rachel that way. Huh, maybe that’s why she’s so convinced I’m into guys. Anyway, nothing’s ever going to happen for me until I graduate from here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m stuck in neutral for the duration—no girlfriends, no big life changes, nothing. I’m here on a scholarship, thanks to the Bonners—”
“So am I,” Hannah said. “We’re in the same boat.”
“Not exactly.” He frowned. “My scholarship comes with all sorts of strings attached. I work for the Bonners. I’m like the all-purpose errand boy. I do everything from helping the yard crew to running to the drugstore for Mrs. Bonner’s valium prescription. I get paid just enough to cover the incidentals around here—and nothing else. If it weren’t for Rachel footing the bill, I’d never go out at all. But sometimes, I feel like I’m her charity case. I’m not knocking it. I mean, she’s great.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I can’t afford to spend money on dates or weekend trips to Chicago. What girl in her right mind would want to go out with me?”
“I’d go out with you,” Hannah heard herself say. They were at the entry to St. Agnes Village. She imagined cheap dates with Alden—long walks on the beach along the lake, studying together at the library, and sharing a plate of fries at the Sunnyside Up Café. It all seemed very romantic.
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