Kent chuckled and clasped him on the shoulder, giving Joe a friendly pat as they headed up the porch steps. “You caught me, Oz. I do have a date. Let’s get this show on the road so we can all get the hell out of here, huh?”
Joe grabbed a pair of black latex gloves from his pocket and pulled them on before opening the front door. He clicked on his flashlight, stepped inside with Dexter, and gave his partner the command to search. It didn’t take long to do a systematic sweep of each room. The old farmhouse was like most two-story homes in the area—a large kitchen with a root cellar and a modest-sized living room—all quickly cleared by Dexter.
They were headed up the stairs when the dog paused and scented the air. Joe’s stomach dropped, dread settling over him like a lead weight. Fuck…
Dexter gave a confirming woof and then bolted up the stairs. Joe was two steps behind his partner as he raced down the hall and planted both paws on the bedroom door.
“Stand down,” Joe told him as he approached the door. Dex sat and waited for it to open, but he took a moment to prepare himself. Ruth King was on the other side of that door. He just knew it. And by the way Dex was behaving, Joe had no hope of finding her alive.
His chest tightened with regret. It was hard to breathe as he forced his arm to move, hand grasping the knob and turning it. He held the flashlight up by his shoulder. The hinges protested loudly as the door swung open. Dexter stayed by his side as Joe stepped into the room. The fading daylight filtered in through a single window above the bed.
As prepared as Joe thought he was, he couldn’t bite back the sharp curse that tore from his chest at the sight of the naked girl lying on the mattress with one arm handcuffed to the headboard, her sightless eyes fixed on the ceiling. He forced his feet forward, pushing back the emotion threatening to swamp him. Too late… You’re too fucking late…
The harshness of Joe’s mag-light was an intrusive beam shining on the girl, who even in death was denied the modesty she deserved.
“I take it this is the girl that was missing?” Joe cut a quick glance to the left as Kent approached.
“Ruth King…” Joe confirmed, stepping closer. Starting at her feet, he began analyzing her. There were dirt smudges all over her body, sporadic bruises, a bold smear of blood on the inside of her thigh. The thick band of bruising around her neck was consistent with the others. Her hair was cut off at the nape.
I’m so sorry I didn’t find you sooner…
Reaching down, he took Ruth’s hand in his, offering her the silent apology. When her delicate hand molded softly in his, Joe froze. Motherfucker… He studied her closer. Slowly, gently…he flexed her wrist and barely swallowed back the snarled curse threatening to tear free of his throat.
“What are you doing, Oz? You shouldn’t be touching that body until after my team is done with her. You know that.”
Yeah? Joe did know that. He knew a lot of things—like Ruth King had not died in this bed, but someone very much wanted to make it look that way, handcuffing a dead girl to the headboard… And he also knew there was no way Saul Heinz could have killed her. Joe carefully replaced Ruth’s hand at her side.
I’m going to catch the bastard that did this to you, he vowed, forcing himself to take a step back.
“Looks like you’re going to have to cancel your hot date, Kent.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you’ve got one with Ruth King. I need a full autopsy report on my desk in the morning, so I can officially charge Saul Heinz with the Barber murders.”
It was hard to step away and leave her in the hands of the man Joe suspected had ended her life. But one of the first things he’d learned as a homicide detective was it’s not what you know, it’s what you can prove—and that’s where Dexter came in. He was trained to detect all sorts of human remains like blood, bone, tissue, and hair. Joe would have a several-hour window where Kent would be away from his house, busy framing Heinz for Ruth’s murder. He needed Sam to get him that search warrant—tonight. Tomorrow it would be too late. The results of the autopsy would be in, and Joe would have no choice but to move on Heinz.
He took Dexter out as the forensics team moved into the small bedroom and began processing the body. Fuck, he needed some air…
Stepping onto the porch, Joe took a deep breath. It did nothing to soothe the uneasiness inside him. He and Kent were playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse. If Dexter couldn’t find the evidence Joe needed to prove Kent was behind this, another innocent man would likely be going to prison.
Joe had held Ruth’s hand, moved her joints… He knew the truth. She was still in primary flaccidity, which meant she was less than six hours dead. He’d had Saul Heinz in custody for ten. But Joe couldn’t prove it. It would be his word against a forensic fucking pathologist, whose report would no doubt put Ruth’s estimated TOD twelve to sixteen hours earlier than it had been.
Basically, all he had right now was his suspicions and Dexter telling him someone was dead inside Kent’s house.
“You find anything good in there?” Frisk asked, coming toward him. The deputy was in charge of making sure the scene remained secure and the log book was timed and signed by every person coming and going from the house.
“I wouldn’t call a dead girl chained to the headboard ‘anything good,’ Deputy.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I mean, did you find what you needed to nail this sonofabitch?”
“It would appear so.” Joe’s cell started to ring, and he retrieved it, checking the caller ID. He excused himself to take the call, then stepped off the porch and headed toward the barn for some privacy. “Tell me you have good news, Tink.”
“Oh, I do. William Rabine is Bill freaking Kent, aka Mary Rabine’s brother. You were right about him. He filed a legal name change with the court twenty years ago after leaving the Amish community. He went to college at the University of Wisconsin and obtained a medical degree with an emphasis in forensic pathology. Your instincts were right, Joe, and with this new information, I’m going back to the judge and pushing harder to get you that search warrant.”
“Well, you better work fast because I just found Ruth King’s body in Saul Heinz’s house.”
“No… Oh Joe, I’m so sorry.”
“Not half as sorry as I am. I didn’t make the connection fast enough. I couldn’t save her. And come tomorrow, I’m going to have to arrest Heinz for these murders.”
“You’re sure it’s not him?”
“As sure as I am that Thomas Root didn’t kill those girls in Wisconsin. But the evidence says otherwise, and I can’t prove that Heinz didn’t do it. Dammit! I need that warrant, Sam. Tonight. Our only shot is getting Dexter back into that house.”
“I’m trying, Joe. I’m also going to call Agent Riker. He might have some connections or at least be able push the judge harder than I can.”
…
Hurry up and wait. Joe had never been good at that part. He watched the forensic team exit Heinz’s house. The last to leave were two techs pushing a stretcher. Joe winced as the black body bag bounced on top of the cart, jostled around as the wheels hit the dips and bumps of the rocky driveway.
One by one, the vehicles pulled away. Joe and Dex were headed to his car when Kent pulled up beside him and rolled the window down. “Hey, Oz, I could use an assistant if you’re up for it. Many hands make light work.”
Unbelievable…either this guy had no idea Joe was on to him, or he was a clever fuck and just as determined to keep tabs on Joe as he was on Kent. “Sorry. My girlfriend was expecting me for supper.” He glanced at his watch. “About two hours ago. I need to check in with her, so she doesn’t worry. I’ll meet you at the station later.”
His eyes never wavered, his grin never faltered. “Well, then, it sounds like at least one of us will get that date tonight. Give Hannah my regards. Oh, and if you change your mind about that autopsy, you know where to find me.” Kent didn’t wait for a response before rolling up his wind
ow and pulling out of the driveway.
Joe ground his teeth in frustration as he watched the black Buick’s dust trail dissipate in the breeze. By turning Ruth’s body over to Kent, he felt like he was failing her all over again. Logically, she’d gone to a better place, but working side by side with a killer while he pretended to be none the wiser was the hardest thing Joe had ever done.
With a muttered curse, he fired up the car and headed down the driveway. At the last second, he turned right instead of left, deciding to stop by Hannah’s and let her know not to expect him tonight. He’d be camping out at Kent’s, waiting for that search warrant to come through. Joe would have saved himself the time and called her if she’d had a damn phone. He couldn’t wait to close this case and start his life with her. They both needed to put Lancaster behind them.
As Joe pulled up to the farmhouse, he mused the possibilities in their future. There were so many things to plan and discuss. Where they would live… How many children they wanted to have… If Riker offered him a position on his team, would Joe accept? He didn’t know, but the one thing he was sure of, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Hannah, and he wanted to be the father Eli deserved.
Joe entered the house, and unease stole over him, his instincts prickling. Something was wrong. Dexter must have sensed it, too, because he stopped and looked up at Joe, waiting for instruction when he would have normally run off to go find Eli.
“Hannah…?” Joe called her name and gently closed the door behind him.
Silence answered.
The little hairs on the back of his neck tingled. It was quiet—too quiet. He quickly checked the kitchen and living room. Finding them empty, he headed for the stairs. And that’s when he heard it—crying. Joe ran up the stairs and raced to Eli’s room. He momentarily faltered when he found the little boy sitting in the center of his bed, legs crossed, rocking back and forth trying to console himself, his face buried in his hands as he cried.
Panic gripped Joe, reaching inside his chest and squeezing his heart. He rushed over to Eli and pulled the little boy into his arms, hugging him tight, but Eli was inconsolable. He took the boy’s slender shoulders and leaned back, trying to see his hidden face. “Eli, where’s your ma?”
When he didn’t acknowledge Joe and began sobbing harder, fear obliterated his patience and he gave the boy a little shake to get his attention. “Eli, where’s your mother?” Panic made his voice harsh, desperation clawing at his insides. When those vibrant blue, tear-filled eyes looked up at Joe, he swore to God his heart stopped.
“She’s gone. Just like Da and Cassie… You promised you’d take care of us,” he sobbed. “You promised we’d be safe!”
Yes, he had, and the disappointment staring back at him gutted Joe. He’d failed the two people he loved most in this world. Terror seized him, his mind taking his thoughts to his worst nightmare. No…that’s bastard wouldn’t take her. There had to be another explanation, and yet in the deepest, darkest parts of his soul, Joe knew the truth.
Hannah was gone.
“When did you last see her, Eli?” Had Hannah already been taken when he’d been at Kent’s house or had he dumped Ruth’s body at Heinz’s farm and then grabbed her?
“I don’t know. She went out to the barn to do chores and never came back.”
“Wait here.” Joe bolted off the bed and raced down the stairs, running across the yard toward the barn. He wrenched the door open, and it slammed against the wall, startling the heifer whose head was shoved in the grain bag.
He grabbed the cow’s halter and led her back to her stall. At the gate, he snarled a nasty curse. The stool was tipped over, and the pail was on its side next to a puddle of milk-soaked straw. The signs of a struggle were evident, scuff marks marring the dirt-packed floor. Rage lit through him as he followed the marks through the barn and out the back door.
This fucker was making it personal…
…
“I wish we had more time. I didn’t want to rush with you, but he’s ruining everything.”
He sat beside her, the bed springs squeaking with the protest Hannah couldn’t voice. She shrank back when he reached for her, blinking away tears she did not want him to see.
“Shh…” he crooned. “I’m not going to hurt you yet. I just want to see…” He reached for the ties of her kapp and pulled them loose before pushing the bonnet back to expose her hair. “Beautiful…” he admired. “Even prettier than your sister’s.”
Hannah’s stomach lurched, and she choked on the bile burning the back of her throat. Please, God…don’t let this be happening. He loosened her bun and pulled the length of hair over her shoulder. Lifting it, he buried his face and breathed deep. Her skin crawled with revulsion, and she swore if she survived, she would cut her hair off. But she wasn’t going to survive. Yet still she hoped, praying that Josiah would find her, that he would save her.
Unable to speak or move, Hannah was a mute pawn in this sick monster’s game.
“It angered me…watching you with him.” Slowly, he twisted the length of her hair around his fist. “I thought you were better than that, but I should have known. You’re a whore just like the rest of them.”
He grabbed her breast, squeezing hard. Her vision blurred with a fresh wave of tears. Renewed panic flooded her veins, and she struggled to get free. He yanked her hair, wrenching her head back, and Hannah screamed against the tape binding her lips, a muffled protest no one could hear.
“Oh, don’t act like you don’t want it,” he growled. “I saw how you spread your legs for him! Dirty cunt… But you’ll repent before I’m done with you. All my doves do.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
“He’s got another one.”
Sam was the second call Joe made. His first was to reroute Deputy Frisk, sending him to Hannah’s to wait with Eli. He laid his foot onto the accelerator and the back end of the Charger fishtailed. The engine growled as he raced for Kent’s house, gravel from the road pinging off the undercarriage as he tore down the road. The cloud of dust billowing behind him made it impossible to see anything in his rearview mirror.
“He took Sarah Lapp?”
“No. He took my girlfriend—Hannah Adams. I think he knows I’m onto him, and he’s making it personal.”
“Hannah Adams…” He could hear Sam’s wheels turning, and it wouldn’t take her long to make the connection. “Cassie Beiler’s sister? Joe, tell me you didn’t get involved with a victim’s family member.”
When he responded with silence, Sam cursed. She wouldn’t tell him what he already knew—that his involvement with Hannah had painted a big target on her back. That it was his fault she’d become a psychopath’s ticket for revenge. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.
“Where are you right now? We need to get you backup.”
“There’s no time for backup, and I don’t want to do anything that will tip Kent off. I’m a few minutes from his place, and he’s not supposed to be there. I’ve got him doing Ruth King’s autopsy. I just wanted you to know where I was, in case this thing goes sideways.”
“Be careful, Joe. This guy is smart. Don’t underestimate him.”
He pulled into a field road south of Kent’s house, killed the lights, and cut the engine. With his gun in hand, he went in with Dexter under the cover of darkness. As they approached the house, a single overhead light shone in the kitchen. A quick search of the garage found it empty. He didn’t think Kent was here, but he wasn’t about to run on that assumption.
Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he crept up the porch, Dexter at his side, step for step. His resisted the impulse to bust inside, gun blazing. Carelessness was how people got killed. Joe tried the doorknob and found it unlocked—odd…
Quietly, he entered and cleared the kitchen, then gestured Dexter forward. The dog waited by the door for Joe to give him the signal he was free to search. After a quick look through the living room, bedroom, and bathroom, he determined the house was
safe for Dexter to proceed.
The dog’s nose went to the floor. As before, he headed straight for the rug and barked. Joe followed him into the living room and knelt beside his partner to get a closer look at Kent’s family heirloom. What was it about this rug that set Dexter off? If he’d use it to transport a body, the victim’s scent could still be on it, but it was unlikely he’d use a rug he seemed to care so much about that way.
Joe studied it closer. The color patterns were unique—variegated earth tones. He reached out to run his fingers over the braided edge for closer examination. It was softer than he expected. Almost…silky, like— No… No fucking way… Joe’s stomach lurched. It couldn’t be. And yet that’s exactly what it was. All that hair…the bastard was weaving it into a fucking rug.
“Talk about your goddamn trophies…” he growled. “I got you, you sick son of a bitch. Now where the hell is Hannah?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” A familiar voice sounded behind him, and Joe froze at the distinct snick of a cocking gun. “Don’t move, Detective, and keep your hands where I can see them.”
Joe watched as Bill Kent stepped into his line of sight, gun trained on his chest. Arm steady, his hard stare was unwavering and unremorseful as Joe held it—the eyes of a cold-blooded killer who would have no regrets about pulling that trigger.
So then why didn’t he do it?
Joe had no fear for his own wellbeing. He’d resigned himself long ago that this job would likely be his end one day, but it was fear for Hannah that had his heart pounding so hard it nearly crashed out of his chest. It was his fault this bastard had targeted her. If Joe died, then so would she…
A low warning growl emitted from Dexter, his top lip curling back as he perceived the threat standing a few feet from them. Before Joe could tell him to stand down, the muzzle of Kent’s gun shifted slightly to the right, and he pulled the trigger.
The pop was deafening. A sharp yelp and Dex was down.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
Vow of Silence Page 26