Penny Fancher shook Jack’s hand. Childers and Spruell nodded to him.
Fancher informed him, “Furman’s waiting for you inside.” She handed him a pair of blue paper covers to put over his shoes.
Childers advised him, “The two uniforms who responded to the call are going door to door canvassing the neighborhood. So far no one’s seen anything.”
Jack told him, “There’s a security camera by the gates as you drive in.”
“I saw it. As soon as we find the property manager or whoever’s in charge, I’ll have the tape pulled. We’ll go in once you’re finished.”
“That’s fine,” Jack said. He glanced at Spruell, who didn’t seem to be paying attention to the conversation—basically ignoring him.
Childers added unnecessarily, “If Detective Sturgis is still alive, we’re gonna get her back. You can count on it.”
“I know you’ll do your best,” Jack said.
Childers looked at his partner to see if he had anything to add. It appeared he didn’t.
“All right, good luck inside. Let us know what you come up with.”
Jack found Ben Furman sitting at the dining room table in the same chair he had occupied when he and Beth dined together. Everything looked the same, but it wasn’t. Furman’s presence and that of the others was an incongruity. They didn’t belong in her home. The thought was irrational and he knew it. They were there to help. Any cop would be. Jack motioned for Furman to follow him. Together they headed for the living room.
The description Pappas had relayed from the officers was inaccurate. There was blood, but it wasn’t everywhere. In fact it was concentrated mostly in front of the couch and in the hallway leading to Beth’s garage.
The blood around the cat’s head was obvious. It was darker in color than the spatters on the floor and walls, indicating it had been there longer. Jack looked at Peeka and shook his head sadly. Killing a harmless animal was an act of unspeakable cruelty.
In the corner of the room lay Beth’s service piece, a 9 mm Browning. He picked it up and sniffed the barrel. There was no smell of gunpowder. He then checked the clip. All the bullets were present, including one in the chamber. Jack handed it to Furman to bag.
A short distance away lay Beth’s cell phone. The battery was still good. Jack showed it to Furman and dropped it into his pocket.
“I’ll give it back in a minute. I want to look at the call register first.”
Furman nodded.
With arms folded across his chest, Jack stood in the entrance absorbing the room’s details. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ben Furman point to the outline of what looked to be a man’s shoeprint. Jack gave him a thumbs up without taking his eyes off the room and continued to study it. In all his years with the FBI, he never devoted more attention to any task.
An unspoken faith exists among criminal investigators that a crime scene will give up its clues. When Jack was satisfied he had gotten all he could, he mentally divided the room into a grid and began to walk it. No question the attack had taken place here. None at all. Most of what he assumed was Beth’s blood was at the corner of the couch. He noted that the additional spatters on both sides of the wall by the entrance were at different heights and angles and discounted them as more of the killer’s staged clues. Ben Furman’s expression indicated he’d reached the same conclusion.
Fifteen minutes passed before either man spoke again. Outside, the light in Beth’s garden was tea colored as one or two rays of sun tried to break through the clouds. The result was short-lived, because the sky closed up again. If anything the wind was stronger than before. With painstaking effort, they went through the rooms one by one, learning nothing of value.
In Beth’s bedroom, the sense of trespass he felt earlier reasserted itself. The drawers of her dresser were open, leaving her undergarments on display. Jack wanted to shut them but restrained himself. His job was to analyze and form a theory as to what happened. The longer he worked, the clearer his mind was becoming and the more his anger grew. He forced the thoughts away and concentrated on the task at hand.
The bed had been made using only a blanket. The comforter lay folded across a bench at the foot. On her blanket the outline of a body was visible, deeper and wider than an impression Beth might make. Seeing it gave him a sick feeling, not so much because of the invasive nature, but because it implied a sexual component. Truth or more game playing? A chill went up his spine.
Jack bent low and sniffed the pillows. A familiar coconut scent was faint but recognizable as Beth’s. The scent on the opposite pillow was stronger and reminded him of the Club Man aftershave his father had used for years.
Ben Furman asked if she had a boyfriend.
“Possibly,” Jack said.
Warning bells were going off in his head. Now was the time to speak up and tell Furman they were involved. He was already on shaky ground with the department, and it could be considered withholding evidence if their involvement came out later. A belated explanation definitely wouldn’t look good. After a momentary debate with himself, he decided to say nothing.
Ben Furman used a sticky roller to go over the bed and pillows and picked up a few hairs that seemed promising. From their length and color, Beth’s were a no brainer. The shorter ones belonged to either him or the killer.
“I don’t see any sign of a struggle,” Furman said. “Looks like the main event took place downstairs.”
“Right,” Jack said.
“I’ll test the blood on the wall, but it’s probably misdirection.”
“Agreed,” Jack said. “Let’s take a look out back.”
The backyard confirmed the living room’s story with one wrinkle. There were two sets of men’s shoeprints in the grass. Both were evenly spaced and far enough apart to indicate the killer and whoever was with him were carrying something—namely, Beth Sturgis. Furman marked the locations with little white flags on wires and then called his assistant and told her to hurry with the images. From the wind and dropping temperature, it was obvious a storm was coming. Nothing jumped out at them, so it appeared the security camera at the subdivision entrance was now their best hope to identify the vehicle that took her out.
Foremost in Jack’s mind were not the clues but the lack of them. In the previous murders, the killer had deliberately left a trail to follow. The evidence buried in Jordan, the carpetbag at the Historical Society, even the video of Pam and Aaron Dorsey—all appeared in the first twenty-four hours. Jack removed Beth’s cell phone and examined the call log. There were several incoming messages on Saturday and Sunday, but the last outgoing call, which was to him, had been placed in the early morning hours on Saturday, a little past midnight. This meant she’d been gone two days. This was another break in the pattern and one that concerned him more than any of the others.
Chapter 65
The storm that broke over Atlanta was short and violent followed by a purposeful rain. Jack could hear it beating against the roof and windows in Beth’s dining room. Ben Furman and his assistant had to scramble to complete their electrostatic images. All the detectives were now assembled around the dining room table. Furman had returned to the lab to process what he found, leaving a technician to go through the house looking for fingerprints. If it was like most homes, 99 percent of them would be worthless. Jack finally made his decision and advised them they would probably find his there as well but didn’t elaborate beyond saying he and Beth had had dinner together. Childers held his eyes for a moment, then nodded and informed him they’d reached the property manager who was en route and would furnish them the last two days of tape from the security camera once he arrived.
“I think what happened is pretty clear,” Jack said. “An attack took place. One or more people gained access to the house, overpowered Beth, and abducted her.”
“You only found one set of shoeprints in the living room,” Spruell said.
“But there were two outside. The fact that we didn’t locate the second set in here
doesn’t mean much, only that they weren’t obvious. Let’s start from the premise that the assault was the killer’s work. Unfortunately, Ben Furman and I turned up very little that’s helpful. Did either of you have any luck?”
Childers said no, as did his partner.
“So where does that leave us?” Penny Fancher asked.
“Waiting for the killer to make contact,” Jack said, “and pursuing what leads we do have from the other cases.”
“Which isn’t much, from everything we’ve heard,” Spruell said.
“No,” Jack admitted.
“Has the chief talked with you about bringing in the FBI?” Childers asked.
“He did. And I told him I was fine with that.”
Dave Childers turned to Penny Fancher and inquired, “Was Sturgis working on any other cases?”
“This was it.”
“Any open on her books?”
“No.”
“I understand she wasn’t married. What about a boyfriend or ex-husband?”
Penny Fancher turned to Dan Pappas. “Dan?”
“Her ex is William Camden, the writer. As far as I know, he lives someplace in Connecticut, and they haven’t spoken in years. She never mentioned being involved with anyone, but I’ll check with Lenny Cass. Her dad’s a cop in Charlotte. I imagine he’ll be in her cell phone.”
Childers glanced at the phone, which was now sitting in a plastic evidence bag on the table, and then said, “Jimmy and I can run down the brother and sister. You want to make the call to her father, you being her partner and all?”
“I’ll do it,” Jack said. He was about to continue when he realized he was being stared at by James Spruell. Whatever the reason, he was in no mood to deal with him. He swiveled his chair and returned the gaze until Spruell looked away. Peggy Fancher decided to end the meeting.
“All right, let’s secure the house and get on with it.” Penny Fancher turned to Dave Childers and informed him, “I want daily status reports. We’ll meet in my office at eight AM on Tuesday to see where we are. Hopefully, we’ll have heard from the killer by then.”
Once again, Jack considered letting them know of his relationship with Beth but decided to hold off, at least for the time being. If he disclosed they were sleeping together, even if it had only been once, it could result in his being summarily removed from the case. That was unacceptable now. Beth’s life was at stake.
On the ride home, Jack and Pappas were quiet. Neither had much to say. The enormity of what had happened was like a boulder teetering precariously above their heads and waiting to break loose from its foundation.
The rain continued, coming down in gray sheets that turned the streetlamp on Jack’s corner into a haze. At eight o’clock that evening, Pappas touched base to tell him Childers and Spruell had looked at the security camera with two of the neighbors. They saw a late-model, brown Toyota Avalon pull into the neighborhood around 7:00 PM and leave a little after 1:40 AM. Neither thought the car belonged there.
“That jives with what the detective told me about seeing her at the precinct. According to Mickey, she left just after one.”
“They were probably waiting for her when she got home,” Jack said.
“What puzzles me,” Pappas said, “is there was no sign of forced entry. Maybe she knew them and let ’em in.”
“Or they got past her alarm,” Jack said. “It doesn’t sound like Beth to let someone in at that hour. Besides, we found her gun in the living room.”
“She might have drawn it after they were in,” Pappas said.
“I suppose so,” Jack said.
“You speak with her folks yet?”
“I called earlier. The answering machine picked up. It’s not the kind of message you want to leave. I was about to try again when you rang.”
“You doin’ okay?”
“Not really,” Jack said.
“Listen, we got a guest bedroom if you feel like company.”
Jack smiled. “Thanks, Dan. I’ll be fine. I’d better make that call now.”
“All right. You change your mind, we don’t go to bed until eleven or so.”
“Understood. Thanks again.”
Jack was about to disconnect, but Pappas wasn’t ready to hang up yet. He said, “Something else has been bothering me.”
“What?”
“Why her?”
“What do you mean?”
“If the guy’s got a hard-on for you, why go after her?”
“Pell went after my partner, remember?”
“Sure. You figure he’s tryin’ to get to you through her?”
“It would be consistent,” Jack said.
“So why not go after you directly?” Pappas said.
“Beth might have been an easier target,” Jack said.
“Why kill her cat, man? What’d he ever do to anybody?”
“I need to make the call, Dan,” Jack said.
After they disconnected, Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, waited for a second, rehearsed what he would say, and then dialed the number. Beth’s father answered. He related what they knew for certain and how they planned to proceed. Joe Sturgis listened quietly and waited until Jack was through before asking any questions. He seemed calm enough as one might expect of a cop with his experience. Jack wasn’t surprised that he knew about the case and about the Scarecrow years earlier. Beth told him they talked frequently. The only surprise was that Joe Sturgis also knew about him.
In the end, Joe Sturgis thanked him for the call and said he and his wife were looking forward to meeting him in person.
“Thank you, sir. Me, too.”
There was a pause on the line.
“You can call me Joe. I lost one daughter a long time ago. I don’t want to lose another. Get her back, son.”
Jack ended the call feeling worse than when it began.
When the rain finally let up, he decided to go for a walk to clear his head and allow himself time to process what happened. The streetlamps were on and the air was clean and fresh, though the wind was still blowing. A full moon rose, bathing the streets in cold light. As he moved through the neighborhood, the frenetic shadows of the tree limbs and their leaves made him think of children running from trunk to trunk in a nocturnal wood. It called to mind the games his daughter and her friends played when they were little.
The epiphany didn’t hit until he turned for home. Something at Beth’s house was out of place. The realization, when it came to him, was like descending a set of stairs in the dark and thinking there’s one more at the bottom only to find you’ve reached the landing with a thud. It was so obvious that he was amazed it took so long to put two and two together. He called Dan Pappas immediately.
“Change your mind about a sleepover?” Pappas said.
“I’m going back to Beth’s house,” Jack said.
“What? Why?”
“Did Childers and Spruell take her computer?”
“I don’t think so. No reason to.”
“You look at it when you were there?”
“Briefly.”
“Well, I did,” Jack said. “I found a note to Dr. Raymond thanking him for compiling the Mayfield employee list.”
“Okay,” Pappas said.
“It was dated three days ago,” Jack said.
Pappas took a moment to digest this. “How come she was asking for it again? Mundas and Stafford went through the employees at the beginning of the case. Everyone had an alibi. On top of that, they double-checked their DNA against what we got off Donna Camp. They were all cleared.”
“You asked why the killer targeted her,” Jack said. “What if she hit on something?”
More silence followed. Jack began walking faster.
“Okay,” Pappas said. “I’m with you. That’s a possibility.”
“Remember the legal pad in her bedroom?” Jack said.
“Yeah, on her nightstand. It was divided in columns. L, R, S, something. But they were all blank. We figured she was doi
ng some work at her house. What do they stand for?”
“No idea,” Jack said. “But I think the names she wrote on the first page are Mayfield employees. Some were crossed out; some weren’t. I want to check them against what Raymond sent.”
“Sure, but if their DNA results were negative, it’s a blind alley.”
“We missed something,” Jack said. “I don’t know what, but we missed something.”
The silence was even longer this time.
“I’ll meet you there in an hour,” Pappas said.
*
Pappas showed up wearing the same tan slacks and white shirt he’d worn earlier. He added a black windbreaker to the outfit and looked only slightly more rumpled. Jack left his car in one of the visitor spaces and was waiting for him by the front door.
“You been inside yet?” Pappas asked.
“No.”
“I’ve been giving some thought to what you said. If she wanted the employee list, why didn’t she make a copy from the one in our file?”
“I intend to find that out,” Jack said.
The door was locked, but Pappas surprised him by producing a key. Jack’s eyebrows rose when he saw it.
“When we were out earlier, I noticed she had an extra key sitting in one of her kitchen drawers,” the detective explained. “I thought it might come in handy.”
They ducked under the yellow crime scene tape and entered.
The computer was still there. Jack flicked it on, brought up her e-mail, and printed the note and list Charles Raymond had sent. Then they went up to Beth’s bedroom and retrieved the white legal pad and compared the names she’d written down. There were thirty-four in total. Jack now saw all the female names were crossed out, leaving twenty-one men.
Pappas flipped the page to the columns labeled L, R, E, and S.
Jack shook his head. “She ever mention this to you?”
Once Shadows Fall Page 28