He took some flatware out of the utensils drawer and washed it off at the sink. Living alone and never having company, he always used the same knife, fork, and spoon over and over again. After six months, the unused utensils had gathered dust.
“I’ve read up on the Immaculate Conception murders,” he said. “And I think you’re right about someone copying those murders. It’s quite possible the same guy abducted Eden O’Rourke, and he’s holding her prisoner right now. But I also think she could have disappeared because someone thought she knew something about Rachel Bonner. You didn’t lie to Hannah this afternoon.”
“Well, I felt like a liar,” she muttered, stirring the spaghetti sauce.
He arranged a couple of place settings on the counter-bar. “Listen, two years ago, some guy held a gun to my head and asked me what I knew about Rachel Bonner. He and his partner asked my brother the same question while torturing him. I’ve been hiding and constantly looking over my shoulder ever since. Two of the three people who have helped me were killed under very mysterious circumstances. One of them was Rachel’s roommate . . .”
He set the three votive candles on the counter-bar and lit them. “Eden O’Rourke knew about my brother working for the woman who raised her. I found out about that pretty easily—merely by eavesdropping on you and Hannah at the pool. Someone else could have found out just as easily from Hannah, Eden, or Rachel. My brother was killed because he’d discovered something about Rachel or the Bonners. Eden might have ‘disappeared’ for the same reason.”
Nate turned to see her leaning against the counter, facing him. “You didn’t lie to Hannah today,” he said. “You have your theory about why Eden disappeared, and I have mine. But I’m allowing for the possibility that you’re right. Can’t you do the same for me? Can’t you at least acknowledge that I could be right, too?”
She let out a sigh. “Of course. I just feel shitty about putting Hannah in this position.”
“Believe me, so do I,” he admitted. He was thinking of Kayla and Frank.
“And the way I manipulated her . . .”
“On the plus side, she just needs to get a couple of names for us. And that could lead to a real breakthrough. We’re talking about someone who ran the Bonners’ household business for years and somebody else who very well could have ordered my brother’s murder. And I think Hannah will be okay, I really do. I don’t think she’s in any real danger.”
“I hope you’re right,” Ellie said. She moved over to the sink and filled a pot with water. Then she set it on the stove to boil. “You know, you’re a rare breed, Nate. It’s not very often nowadays that I run into someone who’s willing to accept another person’s point of view on an issue. Shows you have an open mind. So, you don’t think my copycat killer theory is full of holes?”
“No, not at all,” he said. “In fact, I believe in it so much that I’m worried about you being alone on Wednesday night. Isn’t that the fiftieth anniversary of when the Immaculate Conception Killer broke into that teacher’s house and strangled her?”
Ellie nodded. “Valerie Toomey. She was the same age as me when she was killed.”
He came over next to her and leaned against the counter. “Do I know you well enough to invite myself over to spend the night at your place on Wednesday?”
Her eyes met his, and she nodded. “I’d like that. Thank you.”
For a moment, Nate thought about kissing her. But she turned away and stirred the spaghetti sauce again.
“Good,” he said. “You shouldn’t be alone.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Tuesday, September 22, 3:20 P.M.
The fifth-floor hallway of the boys’ dorm, O’Leary Hall, smelled like sweat socks—at least Hannah thought so. Someone had that old “Tubthumping” song—“I get knocked down, but I get up again”—blaring from his room. Hannah had dressed in a cute red pullover and her sexiest jeans for this seemingly impromptu visit to Alden’s room. She’d texted him five minutes ago and asked if they could get together.
He’d texted back:
M at my dorm. Come on up! Room 508.
Now she knocked on his door.
Seconds later, Alden opened it. He wore a gray T-shirt and jeans, and was barefoot. He gave her a big smile. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“Nothing much,” she said. “It’s been a while, and I just felt like seeing you . . .”
This, of course, was a lie. She was there on a mission for Ellie, and she felt a bit nervous about it. Now that she was face-to-face with Alden, alone with him, and about to enter his bedroom, her heart was racing.
“Yeah, not since Thursday night, when Perry had us in lockdown at the bungalow—after that creepy massage guy said he was watching us.” Alden opened the door wider. “C’mon in. Mi casa, su casa . . .”
The narrow room had a big window with a view of the playfield and the woods beyond. It was easy to guess which side was Alden’s. There were two Irish posters—one a collage of Irish beers, and another a beautiful photo of the Irish countryside. Hannah didn’t even have to ask who had given him the large, framed poster from the original Frank Sinatra Ocean’s 11. His side of the room was tidy—in contrast to his roommate’s, whose sloppiness rivaled Eden’s. It looked like the roommate’s bed was all rumpled beneath the hastily arranged bedspread. Beer and hockey posters decorated the wall on that side. As Alden closed the door, Hannah noticed a dartboard on the back of it—along with at least a hundred little holes in the door and the doorway frame.
“Have a seat,” Alden said, indicating his bed. He sank down in his desk chair. “I should warn you that Turner, the Flatulence King, should be back at any minute, and I promised I’d go with him to this place in Highwood and help him load some shit into his brother’s pickup for him. I don’t know how I got suckered into that. Anyway, how are you? Have you heard anything new about Eden?”
Settling on his bed, Hannah leaned back against the wall. “No. But she’s an official missing person now. The police and the school are in on the case. And yesterday, my parents hired a private investigator.”
“God, I’m really sorry,” he murmured. “Must be tough.”
Hannah just nodded. There was an awkward silence while she tried to think of a way to steer the conversation toward the Bonners’ former housekeeper and the married guy with whom Rachel might have had an affair.
“So how was your Saturday night at Chez Bonner?” Alden asked. “Cute, rustic little shack they’ve got there, huh? What did you think of Dick and Candy?”
“Talk about awkward,” Hannah admitted with the roll of her eyes. “We had a really strained lunch, and that was the only time I set eyes on them.”
“Yeah, Rachel told me about that. I hear they ditched you to go out for dinner.”
Nodding, Hannah sat up a little. This was exactly where she needed the conversation to go. “Yes, in fact, I spent a lot of time in the kitchen, talking with Hildie, the cook.”
“Was she hammered? She always gets kind of shitfaced when the Bonners go out to dinner. And I’ll bet the TV was on the whole time. She always has the TV on.”
Hannah giggled. “Yeah, she was pretty drunk, and she had the game shows on.” Hannah imagined Alden keeping the tipsy British cook company in that kitchen when the house was practically empty. “We talked about you part of the time. Hildie told me a story about the old housekeeper—what was her name again?”
He made a sour face. “Vivien?”
“Yes, Vivien Something . . .”
He tipped the chair back against the edge of his desk. “Vivien Houghton. The old bitch was running the house back when it belonged to Candy’s parents, before she married Dick. Under her domination, everything in the household had to be just so. A tight-ass who ran a tight ship, that was Vivien. Growing up, she scared the shit out of my mother and me. What story did Hildie tell about her?”
“Something about her finding you and Rachel when you were kids, naked and messing around. According to Hildie, Ms. Houghton was
convinced the two of you had an ‘unnatural relationship.’”
He let out an awkward laugh. “And that was just the one time we got caught.”
“And you were the one who told me that any relationship between you and Rachel would be incestuous. What exactly did you guys do?”
He tipped the chair forward—so the front two legs met the floor again. “Jesus, I don’t remember. I was, like, six, and Rachel was eight. She wanted us to get naked, so I got naked for her. I always did what I was told. Ms. Houghton thought we were a couple of little perverts, and she was probably right. In fact, you want to hear something weird? A few years back, I mentioned those peek-a-boo sessions to Rachel, and she claimed she didn’t remember any of it, acted like it never happened. I guess she repressed it. She even got a little pissy when I tried to remind her . . .”
Alden stared down at the floor for a moment, and then his eyes met hers. “I hope you didn’t mention anything about this kinky kids’ stuff to Rachel.”
Hannah quickly shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”
“Well, I wouldn’t if I were you.” He chuckled again. “Hildie and her big mouth, three or four glasses of wine, and she’s revealing all the family secrets. What other scandalous tales did she tell you?”
“That was the juiciest. Otherwise, she had nothing but nice things to say about you.” Hannah paused. She saw a potential segue there, and she decided to take it. “Speaking of scandals, I heard these two girls talking in the cafeteria yesterday. One of them said something about Rachel being really close to some older, married guy, a business associate of her father’s . . .”
Eyes narrowed at her, Alden leaned forward in his chair. “Who said this?”
“I don’t know—some girl one table over from me at lunch,” Hannah lied. “She was talking with her friend. I have no idea who she was. I didn’t recognize either one of them.”
“Can you remember what she said exactly?” Alden pressed. He stared at her intently. “Did she mention where she’d heard this?”
Hannah shrugged. Suddenly, she couldn’t look him in the eye. “I don’t remember her exact words. I heard her mention something about Rachel being close to an older married guy. Then she said, ‘I think he’s a business associate of her father’s.’ Anyway, it got me wondering. Is it true?”
Alden seemed to force a smile. He shook his head. “Don’t pay attention to that shit. People are always gossiping and making up stories about Rachel because she’s rich. So, when you were in the cafeteria yesterday, did you have the pizza for lunch? Wasn’t it horrible?”
Hannah laughed. “It was so gross . . .”
Alden said nothing for a moment, but he was still smiling. “Hannah,” he whispered finally. “They didn’t serve pizza for lunch yesterday. The lunch special was their watery macaroni and cheese. C’mon, fess up. You didn’t hear this rumor about Rachel from a couple of girls in the cafeteria, did you?”
Hannah just stared at him.
“I’ll bet you heard it from your friend, Ellie. Am I right?” He seemed more amused than mad. “Ellie Goodwin, Our Lady of the Cove’s own Lois Lane, I’m sure she’s behind this. I know you like her, but I’m sorry. She’s kind of a user. Look how she got me into trouble with that whack-job massage creep. I’ll bet Ellie asked you if this rumor about Rachel and an older guy was true, and you decided to ask me . . .”
Hannah shook her head. “No, God . . .” She laughed nervously. “I swear, I heard these two bitches talking in the cafeteria. And I had a salad for lunch. I always eat a salad for lunch. I was just agreeing with you about the pizza, because I tried it once. And you’re right. Their pizza sucks.” She let out a dramatic sigh and gave him a smile. “The girl who was talking about Rachel had blond hair with black roots, and she wore it in a ponytail with a scrunchie. Oh, and she had dark blue fingernail polish . . .” Hannah figured these details might lend a little credence to her story. “I don’t remember what the other girl looked like.”
Slouching in his desk chair, Alden just smirked at her. Hannah couldn’t tell if he believed her or not.
The bedroom door opened. A stocky, cute, but dumb-looking guy stepped into the room. He had a camouflage backpack slung over his shoulder. “Hey . . .” he mumbled.
Alden got to his feet. “Turner meet Hannah. Hannah meet Turner.”
“Hey . . .” Alden’s roommate grinned at her and tossed his backpack on the hastily made bed.
“How’s it going?” Hannah smiled and gave a nod.
He turned to Alden. “You still helping me out this afternoon?”
Hannah quickly got up. “I was just leaving. Nice meeting you, Turner . . .”
He grunted in response.
Alden walked her out to the hallway and closed the door behind him. “That was Turner,” he whispered. “Charming, isn’t he?”
“Delightful.” She giggled and touched his arm for a moment. “Well, thanks for having me over . . .”
“Drop in any time,” he said.
Hannah was about to head for the elevator, but she hesitated. “Y’know, you never really answered my question. What the girls were talking about, is it true? Was Rachel ever involved with some older, married guy?”
“Are you kidding me?” Alden chuckled. “The way her parents keep tabs on her? Rachel couldn’t get away with anything like that. Her dad would hunt the guy down and murder him—or he’d have one of his people do it for him.”
Hannah nodded. It struck her that Alden was dead serious. She felt his hand on her shoulder.
“Nice seeing you,” he whispered. Then he leaned in and gently kissed her on the lips.
For Hannah, the kiss was over way too quickly. He seemed very casual about it.
“See ya,” she murmured.
Alden ducked back into his room and closed the door.
Mesmerized, she stood there in the noisy, smelly hallway. For a few moments, she forgot the reason for her visit.
It wasn’t until Hannah wandered onto the elevator that she remembered she needed to report to Ellie.
Tuesday, 4:03 P.M.
“I think I convinced him that you had nothing to do with it, but he was definitely suspicious. I mean, he asked me flat out if you were the one who said something to me about Rachel and this married business associate of her father’s.”
“It’s okay,” Ellie said. “You did well.”
Hannah sat in the only spare chair in Ellie’s office. At her desk, Ellie still had a pen in her hand from the brief notes she’d taken on a yellow legal pad:
Vivien Houghton (or Haughton?)
Affair story may be true . . .
ALDEN SUSPECTS!!!
“The weird thing is,” Hannah said, “when I brought up the affair thing, Alden didn’t deny it right away. He seemed more concerned about where I’d heard it . . .”
“Good observation,” Ellie replied. “As a reporter, that’s one of the things you learn pretty quickly. If you fire a question at someone, and they don’t want to answer it, the first thing they ask is where you heard the story. It’s a way to deflect—and usually a sign that your question hit a nerve.” Holding the click-end of the pen against her lower lip, Ellie sat back in her chair. “So—I think you better not bring this up with Alden again, and definitely not with Rachel. If he broaches the subject, stick to your story about hearing those girls talking in the cafeteria. And act like you haven’t even given it another thought. Okay?”
Hannah nodded. But she still looked a bit apprehensive.
“You did well,” Ellie told her again. She put the pen down. “And I won’t ask you to do anything else. Thank you, Hannah.”
“I’m not sure how this will help us figure out what happened to Eden,” Hannah said, squirming in the chair. “But . . .”
“I’m not sure either,” Ellie admitted. “But I can take it from here.”
She hoped the information would be useful to Nate. She also hoped she wouldn’t have to break her promise to Hannah. She didn’t want the poor
girl sticking her neck out for them again.
Ellie noticed someone hovering outside her office door. He ducked back, so she couldn’t see his face; but he still lingered out in the corridor.
“Excuse me?” Ellie called.
Hannah glanced over her shoulder.
“Excuse me! Are you waiting to see me?” Ellie called again.
The custodian, Lance, backed into her doorway. He rested the handle of a push broom on his shoulder and took out his earbuds. “You talking to me?” he asked.
Ellie worked up a smile. “I’m sorry, Lance. I saw someone out there, and didn’t realize it was you.”
He seemed slightly annoyed—until he looked at Hannah and then he grinned. “Hey, how’s it goin’?”
“Fine, thanks,” she said with a pained, cordial smile. Then she turned toward Ellie again.
Lance put the earbuds back in and then moved on down the hall with his push broom.
With the way the janitor sometimes lurked around, Ellie wondered if he was spying on her—maybe even for O’Hurley. “Do you know him?” she whispered to Hannah.
Grimacing, she nodded. “His mother works for Rachel as a cleaning woman. She also comes by and picks up or drops off laundry for Rachel. Sometimes his mother sends Lance. Rachel says he’s creepy but harmless. So, before she took off, Eden and I used to call him C-B-H Lance. Creepy But Harmless.”
“Have you heard from your parents since yesterday?” Ellie asked. “Are there any updates on Eden?”
Hannah sighed. “They just called, like, fifteen minutes ago—when I was on my way over from O’Leary Hall. It looks like Eden got rid of her phone. The last activity they got was her deleting a bunch of our texts on Friday night. The phone went out of whack shortly after that, somewhere near downtown Chicago. I guess I might as well stop texting her now.”
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