She realized it was dark outside. She’d been lying on the couch for hours. A thought crossed her mind. The twins. Did Jake have them? He must, she hadn’t heard a peep from them all afternoon. She didn’t remember telling him he could take their children with him when he took off this afternoon. She figured she’d best call his cell phone, insist he bring them home.
She dialed the number, surprised when he answered after only one ring. She tried to be courteous. “Jake, I’d appreciate it if you brought the children back for the night. I don’t know where you’re staying but they have their own needs, their own beds to sleep in…. What? You don’t have them? Did you drop them off somewhere? Oh my God, Jake, where are they?”
She was wailing, running through the house calling their names. There was no sign of either child.
The phone rang again. She rushed to it, thinking it was Jake, telling her he was kidding, just punishing her for kicking him out. It wasn’t.
The voice on the other end of the phone was so soft, so low, she could barely hear it. Even months later, she’d swear she hadn’t really known what was said.
“Meet me in the clearing. Come see your children die.”
Fifty-Two
Taylor and Baldwin were sifting through Reese Connolly’s life. His small two-bedroom bungalow in West End was simple, clean and held few clues as to the nature of the killer who lived within its walls. A dig was going on in the backyard. Marcus had spotted freshly turned earth, and further investigation showed six perfect mounds, one laid out next to another with flawless symmetry. The first grave held a decomposing woman’s hand. Very carefully, the remainder of the mini graves were being excavated.
Taylor’s cell rang, and she sighed as she stopped, reaching for the phone, clicking it on. Even the most mundane task was exhausting. She wasn’t prepared for what she heard when she answered.
Quinn Buckley was hysterical, screaming into the phone. Taylor tried to calm her, to no avail. She gleaned only a few tidbits of information from the call—that Quinn’s children were missing, and that Quinn had been instructed to go to the spot they’d been playing the day she and her sister were kidnapped. Taylor remembered from Quinn and Whitney’s file that it was behind their parents’ old place, out on Belle Meade Boulevard.
The homicide team split up. Taylor and Baldwin headed to the park. The drive took only ten minutes. Reese’s West End home was easily accessible to the main roads and they sailed through the dark night without trouble.
Taylor and Baldwin were tense and alarmed. Not speaking, each attuned to the other, they got themselves emotionally prepared. When children were involved, sometimes the results could be heartbreakingly bad. They had both seen the tumult that came into play with domestic violence. If what Quinn said was true, they would need to focus as much of their energies as possible to get the children out safely.
They pulled onto Belle Meade Boulevard, Taylor counting down the addresses until they located the home that had belonged to the Connollys when the girls were children. They pulled into the entrance, struck by the house in front of them. Quinn had mentioned the house had sold recently but was unoccupied. A stroke of luck, the new tenants weren’t there to contend with.
Taylor backed out, then pulled to the side of the Boulevard, right down the street from Quinn’s, and cut off the lights on her car. The moon was full, making the shadowy world before them shimmer. She and Baldwin jumped the fence and carefully made their way up to the house. There were two cars before them in the circular drive.
Taylor recognized the bottle-green classic Jaguar that had been parked in Quinn’s driveway. The other car she wasn’t familiar with, a black soft-top Jeep Wrangler. She radioed in the plates. The car was registered to Reese Connolly.
It was time, then. All the leads, the missteps, the death over the past two weeks would be decided in this last moment. Reese Connolly’s last stand against the world. And he was doing it with two innocents at his side.
Taylor and Baldwin crept around the side of the house, silent in the darkness. Surprise was their only chance to help Quinn and her children. Reese didn’t know they would be here, ready to take him into custody. Or worse, if warranted.
“How do you want to do this?” Taylor asked, eyes adjusting to the darkness. The moon was giving off enough light to help them.
“Let’s take it slow, go through the woods. With any luck, Quinn was overreacting. Let’s get in there, see what there is to see. Maybe nothing will have to be done.”
Taylor’s hand slid the familiar route to her Glock, stationed at the ready on her hip. She unsnapped the holster strap, heard a corresponding snick from Baldwin, two feet to her right. She signaled to him in the shadows, motioning for him to go ahead. She broke out a flashlight, covered the edge with her free hand so they wouldn’t be seen and moved through the gloom into the backyard of the house.
“Through there,” Baldwin whispered, pointing to a small opening in the woods. “That should be the path to the clearing.”
They crept along the path, swatting branches and spiderwebs from their faces. After about fifty yards, the path grew wider. They could see the clearing just ahead.
Careful to make no noise, Taylor slid from behind the cover of the trees, Baldwin right on her heels. She could already hear sobbing, pleading and the strong voice of the man who’d claimed eight lives.
“Quit blubbering, Quinn, it makes your face all puffy. You want to look beautiful for the cameras tomorrow, don’t you? You’ll want to be the fresh and pretty mom next door, keening and wailing in your reserved way, sorry about the death of your children and only brother. Oh, but that’s not right, is it? I’m not your brother after all. Just a poor kid who no one thought could handle the truth. You and Whitney let them, Quinn. You let them perpetrate the lie.” There was a shuffling and a thin, high-pitched squeal came out of the darkness. One of the children had cried out and been muffled.
Quinn’s voice was choked with emotion. “Reese, you don’t understand. You can’t possibly understand. We were twelve years old, Reese. Twelve. Our innocence stripped away on a couch that stank of beer and sweat. Please, Reese, my children have nothing to do with this. You and I have many things to talk about, to work through. I’ll help you every way I can. I’ll get you out of the country so you don’t have to stand trial. But please, Reese, let my children go. They’re innocent in all of this, they shouldn’t be punished for the sins of their mother.”
Quinn was pleading now. With her voice for cover, Taylor stepped even closer, lodging herself against a young tree for support, her gun drawn and ready. She risked a glimpse around the tree. Quinn was approximately forty feet from her, she could see her clearly in the moonlight. Reese, though, was out of sight, a disembodied voice ringing out through the night. She couldn’t see the children, either. Shit, it was a blind shot. Not a thing she could do. Not yet.
Quinn continued trying to talk Reese into handing over the children. She must have started moving, because Reese’s voice rang out, clear and cold.
“Don’t move another inch, Quinn. This knife I have against sweet little Jake Junior’s throat could slip, and he’ll go down fast if you come any closer.”
Quinn raised her hands in submission and took a few steps back. Taylor realized that from Quinn’s angle, she could see Reese, had a clear view of him. Could see the knife pressed to her child’s throat.
Quinn gave up trying to negotiate for her children’s lives, settling instead on trying to get answers from Reese. Good girl, Taylor thought. Keep him talking, let us get him surrounded and cut off. She sent the mental message to Quinn, praying that the woman could feel her presence.
Baldwin caught Taylor’s eye. He held up a hand, fingers splayed. Five minutes, he was saying. Give me five minutes to get into place, then we’ll take him. She nodded and watched Baldwin creep away. If Quinn could keep him occupied for five more minutes.
Taylor tuned herself back into the conversation Quinn and Reese were having.
/> “Reese, please honey, tell me why. Why did you kill all those girls? What made you go crazy like that?”
“I AM NOT CRAZY!” he roared, and one of the children gave a whimpering yell. “Shut up, you little shit. Shut up or I’ll kill you, you hear me? Quinn, that kind of talk is going to get your babies killed. But I’ll answer your question. I did it for my mother.”
“Reese, you don’t—”
He interrupted her. “Don’t tell me what I don’t know. I know, all right? I’ve known since I was fourteen. Old enough to understand, I think. Mommy got raped and had a baby. I knew all about the birds and bees by then, Quinn. All you had to do, all any of you had to do was tell me the truth. We wouldn’t be here now. But you didn’t. You hid it away, ashamed of me, ashamed of what had happened.
“I read Whitney’s diary the day your parents were killed. That’s when I realized, finally understood. She was so strong, wanted so badly to let the world know I was her son. Even though she never admitted it, I knew. I could tell as she looked at me. As I got older, she started pulling away. She didn’t want to have to admit how wrong she’d been. But I would have forgiven her, Quinn. I would have forgiven my mother anything.”
Taylor inched around the trees, trying to get into a position where she could see Reese. She moved deliberately, stalking from one tree to the next. After two minutes, she could almost touch Quinn, she was so close. Three more minutes.
Reese continued his diatribe. “I did the next best thing. If Mommy wouldn’t acknowledge me, maybe Daddy would. And he did. You remember Daddy, don’t you, Quinn? Nathan Chase? I’m sure he remembers you fondly. No, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that it was right, what he did.” His voice broke for a moment. “I’m not saying what I did was right, either. But it had to be. I had to help my mother.” His voice grew stronger.
“It was the best idea. Something that would get Whitney’s attention. Something that would make her a star. You knew how much she wanted to be a national-network reporter. You know the pains she went to, making herself perfect. She just needed that one story that would break her out of the pack. I gave her that.”
Quinn’s breathing grew shallow. “You’re telling me you killed eight girls to help Whitney get a story? That’s what all this is about?”
“Seven. One little bitch died on me. It was a wonderful idea. Something that would get national attention. Especially moving the bodies from state to state, and leaving a hand behind. I knew that would get the right people involved, would dramatize everything. I thought it was fitting, seeing as my real mother never laid hands on me, never held me in her arms as her son. I didn’t have the stomach for it at first, but as I went on, I got used to it.”
The vomit, Taylor thought. At the first crime scene. He’d been so scared and nervous he’d thrown up. That explained the hesitation marks on Susan Palmer’s arm, as well. If only he had stopped then.
But Reese was bragging now. Any hope of him being sane was gone.
“I got good at it. Even started enjoying myself. And it got your stupid husband out of the way, too. I set him up so good.” Reese sounded like a child at that moment. A child wanting a pat on the head for his good behavior.
“I did it all for her, Quinn. I knew, deep down, that if I helped her, she’d love me again, like she did when we were kids. I’m her son, dammit. Now she’s gone, too, and all my hard work was for nothing. For nothing!” His cry echoed throughout the dark emptiness, and Taylor took that moment to step out of the shadows, gun leveled at the sound of Reese’s voice. The minute she was behind Quinn, she could see him, silhouetted against the night sky. She could see Baldwin, as well, inching up to Reese’s left. They were in position, would be able to stop him.
Quinn had been silent for the past few moments. She spoke again, her voice clear and strong, as if a decision had been reached deep within her soul. “Give me my children, Reese. I will make sure that you don’t see a jail. That you’ll go free. I’m sorry it had to be this way. I’m sorry you felt compelled to kill to get our attention. I assure you, you have it now. You’ve been bad, Reese, a very bad boy. But I can get you out of this. Just let the twins go and I’ll help you.”
Quinn began moving toward Reese. Taylor caught a glimpse of something in Quinn’s hand out of the corner of her eye. Oh hell, that was just what she needed. Quinn wanted to play hero. She had found a weapon and brought it to the standoff with Reese. She continued to walk toward Reese. Taylor needed to stop this before it went any further. Taylor stepped out in full view behind Quinn and Reese saw her for the first time. He panicked.
“Quinn, who the hell is that? Did you call the cops? I told you not to call the cops. I wanted to talk to you. Now look what you’ve done. You’ve given me no choice.”
Taylor heard the blade whisk and shouted at Reese.
“Put that knife down! Put it down, Reese! There’s no way out of this for you unless you put the knife down and let the kids go. After you do that, we can talk. Put it down, now, Reese.” She edged closer to Quinn. “Don’t move, Quinn. Stay right where you are. Let us handle this.”
She stepped carefully, slowly, advancing on Reese’s position. He looked startled, confused, and suddenly heard Baldwin’s voice from behind him.
“You’re covered on all sides, Reese. Drop the knife and we can walk you out of here alive.”
Quinn, ignoring Taylor’s instructions, kept talking and moving forward slowly, trying desperately to save her children. “Reese, you can’t do that. You can’t kill your own brother. Reese, listen to me. Jake Junior is your brother. Jillian is your sister. Do you understand what I’m saying? They’re your brother and sister, Reese. You can’t kill them.” The light shone briefly in Quinn’s eyes, tears pouring down her face. “Please, Reese. Please.”
Reese was growing more and more agitated. Taylor could see the edge of the knife tip disappear, and a thin trickle of blood ran down Jake Junior’s neck. Jillian started to wail. The sight was too much for Quinn.
She bolted, covering the last twenty feet in scant seconds. Taylor tried to grab her, but she was too quick, like a deer startled from the brush. The gun was out in plain view now, leveled at Reese.
“Quinn, don’t!” she screamed, but it was too late. Quinn stopped a few feet short of Reese, took aim and pulled the trigger. Reese was down before Taylor’s voice faded from her throat. The children ran to their mother, throwing their arms around her legs.
Taylor rushed for Reese. He lay quietly on the ground, a hole in his upper chest, blood spilling out like a fountain. Taylor could see that he was losing blood too quickly, they weren’t going to be able to save him if help didn’t get here soon. She keyed her radio, called for a bus to rush a shooting victim.
Baldwin was feeling around Reese’s body, making sure he had no other weapons he could use. Baldwin pocketed the knife Reese had been holding and nodded to Taylor, he was clean. He kept his weapon trained on Reese, though it looked like there was little chance that it was necessary.
Taylor turned back to Quinn, who was still holding the gun at chest level. “Give me the gun, now, Quinn. Let me have it, that’s right. Good girl.” Quinn looked at Taylor as if she were a stranger. The gun was limp in her hand, and she didn’t fight when Taylor lifted it gently from her. Once she no longer had the gun, Quinn broke down. She wrapped her arms around her children, crying with relief. Taylor stood, pulled the clip from the gun and emptied the bullets into her hand. She shoved them in her pocket and put the gun in the small of her back, tucking it into her jeans.
Quinn pulled herself together and spoke to her children. “Stand with that lady for a minute. I need to talk to your uncle.” The children obeyed, too terrified to do anything but, and sidled close to Taylor’s legs. Taylor absently patted them on the head, watching Quinn.
Quinn came closer, standing over Reese for a moment, waiting for him to meet her eyes. He finally managed to focus on her. She looked to Taylor and Baldwin for guidance.
“Don’t
touch him, Quinn. You hit him in the chest, his lung’s already collapsed. I don’t know if he’s going to make it.”
“I just need to talk to him for a moment.” There were tears coursing down her cheeks. She knelt beside Reese, her voice quiet but determined.
“Reese, I am your mother. I am so sorry. You’re right, we should have told you.”
Reese’s voice was wheezy, full of pain. “No, you’re wrong. It was Whitney. Whitney was my mother.” He coughed and a bubble of blood appeared on his lips. He was badly hurt.
Quinn shook her head. “No, that’s not right. It was me. They kept us both in seclusion after the kidnapping, but I was the one who was pregnant.”
Reese tried to speak again, groaning with the effort. “But…Nathan…told me…told me he raped Whitney…not…you.”
“Oh, Reese. We were identical twins. He didn’t know who was who. We never told him.”
The faint wail of sirens reached their ears, growing steadily louder. Taylor murmured to the children to stay put and went to Quinn.
“You have to step back now, Quinn. We need to make room for them to work on Reese.” Taylor could see the waxiness of his skin, the light fading from his eyes as he struggled for breath. Funny, neither she nor Baldwin had made an effort to help him. She supposed that was fitting.
Quinn was down on the ground, smoothing Reese’s hair back, murmuring to him. The blood was flowing steady and strong from the wound in his chest, and Taylor could see the sheen of sweat on his upper lip. He was whispering back to Quinn, over and over, repeating the same two words. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
The sirens cut through the night. The ambulance pulled to the road and the EMTs rushed through the clearing. Taylor pulled Quinn back.
“We need to give them room to work on him, Quinn. Hold it right here for a moment.”
Quinn looked at Taylor. “Will they be able to save him?”
All the Pretty Girls Page 31