Davies put down the report. “Kelly Templeton. Roosevelt High.”
“Rudy’s playground,” Harry said from behind clenched teeth. He still looked shaken from the ordeal the day before. “God, I want that little sonofabitch to fry.”
Steven rose to his feet, every muscle in his body taut. “To a crusty little crisp. Kent, let’s get you and as many other Forensics as we can free up over to the Templeton house. He’s left something there, I know it. And we’ll find it if we have to rip up every damn floorboard and carpet fiber. Liz, can we bring him in now? Please?”
Liz nodded slowly. “As long as we bring in anyone else that knew her. As long as we don’t single Rudy out.”
“She was a cheerleader,” Sandra said curtly. “She probably knew everyone in the school.”
“Which may include Brad,” Nancy reminded him and Steven felt his heart stutter and clench. Even though Brad seemed okay now, Steven still didn’t know what had caused the rift.
But he knew Brad. Ultimately trusted his son. His heart quieted to normal. “That’s okay. He’s a smart kid, maybe he can tell us something we don’t already know.” Then his mind prickled, a plan beginning to form. “You’re right, Sandra, she probably knew the whole school, so we’ll go to them. Nancy, call the principal and arrange to have any students who knew her brought to a closed room in groups of ten.” He looked over at Liz. “I assume a videographer’s out?”
“Without parental consent? You assume correctly.” Steven shook his head. “Damn Bill of Rights,” he said and made Liz smile. “Sandra, special duty for you. You’ll ensure our teens have liquid refreshment.”
Sandra raised her brows. “And do I get tips for this?” Steven grinned, feeling his adrenaline pumping. “No, you don’t serve. You let the school serve from their supplies. You, my dear, just collect the trash. Label each cup carefully. I want Rudy and his friends to drink something. And I want you to carefully make sure the used cups are garbage they no longer want.” They could search garbage without a warrant. He wished he’d thought of this before. “Got it?”
Sandra’s lips curved. “Got it. We can get DNA from his cup.”
“You’ll have to get DNAs from all the cups,” Liz cautioned and Steven shrugged.
“Hell, Diane’s back from her cruise all rested. I think she can handle the job, don’t you, Kent?”
Kent nodded with mock sobriety. “Absolutely.”
“Plus, how we prioritize the evidence won’t matter in the long run as long as we run and compare all the samples, right, Liz?”
Liz looked amused. “Right.”
Steven turned to Harry and immediately gentled his voice. “Harry, can you handle another crime scene with Kent?”
Harry looked grim. “After yesterday, I can handle anything. How much worse can he get?”
The question took the wind from all their sails.
Steven saw yesterday in his mind once again, as clearly as if he were still standing amid the body parts and the signs. “I don’t want to know. Let’s not give him a chance to show us.”
Wednesday, October 12, 8:50 A.M.
Jenna was reviewing the reading assignments the substitute had given her class when Lucas interrupted. “Dr. Marshall? Can I have a word with you?”
Glad to see him after the tumult of her weekend, Jenna turned from her blackboard with a smile—that immediately dissipated when she saw the look on his face. Lucas was frightened.
Her first thoughts flew to Casey as she dusted chalk dust from her hands. Still she injected humor into her voice. “Class, read section six again. You all missed the finer points the first time.”
She walked to the back of her classroom amid teenaged groans, her heart wildly beating in her throat. Lucas followed her into the hall and pulled the door shut behind them.
“Casey?” Jenna asked immediately.
Lucas shook his head. “No.” He looked into her classroom from the oblong window in the door. “There’s been another girl abducted,” he said quietly, still looking into her classroom.
Jenna frowned, then her heart rose into her throat again. Sixteen, cheerleader. One empty desk in the front row. The hallway blurred as she sagged back against the wall to keep from falling. “Kelly?” she whispered.
Lucas swallowed. “Yes.”
She remembered the look on Steven’s face the night before. The unspeakable horror he’d seen. Perpetrated by the monster that now held one of her innocent girls. He had Kelly. Nausea rolled through her stomach and she had to fight to keep from throwing up. “When?”
“Last night. The police want to talk to the students, ask them what they’ve seen. Groups of ten. I’m setting it up in the conference room. Since she was in your class, I want your kids to go first.”
Jenna pushed her trembling body from the wall. “We’re halfway into the period. Which kids do you want to go first, because you won’t have time for them all.”
Lucas turned from the window, his face wooden. “Pick ten. We’ll get the others in their classes as the day goes on.” He raked taut fingers through the silver hair at his temples. “I can’t believe this is happening. Does Thatcher have any idea who’s doing this?”
Jenna shook her head. “I don’t know,” she murmured, fighting a wave of nausea. Dear God. The last girl had been the worst crime Steven had ever seen. And he had Kelly. Think, Jenna. Move. “I’ll send the first group down.” She’d divide the class alphabetically, she thought, mentally running down her roster. The first ten would be last names A through
H. Steeling herself, she went back into her classroom to break the news no one should ever have to hear.
Wednesday, October 12, 3:30 P.M.
Steven, Sandra, Liz, and Nancy had interviewed over a hundred teenagers. Most were shell-shocked, unbelieving that one of their own had fallen prey. Lucas Bondioli was their mainstay, guiding teens into the conference room, preparing lists of names of those they’d talked to, those they hadn’t. Bondioli sat in on every group, which seemed to put the students at ease. Steven was glad to have him, knowing he could pick up on expressions that were out of the ordinary for any given teen.
The football team was among the first questioned, but none of the boys would admit to knowing anything. They did have the pleasure of watching Rudy’s friends squirm, if for no other reason than the fact the boys knew they were still under suspicion for Jenna’s attack even though Rudy himself had been cleared by way of alibi.
Late morning, Steven had left Sandra in charge and taken a break, first going up to Jenna’s classroom where she’d walked silently into his arms, oblivious to the goggle-eyed stares of her third period class. She’d been through hell but she was holding up just as he’d known she would. He satisfied himself with a brief embrace and a whispered “I love you.” It seemed like a year since he’d said it, although it had been only a few hours before when he’d woken her up before dawn to make love. Just once more, he’d thought in the darkness, before returning to the horror he knew would be waiting at work. And she’d silently obliged, offering her body, holding him until he finally forced himself out of her arms. Out of her bed. Into the office where the hell had begun all over again.
Then he’d visited the Templeton house where Harry and Kent and Davies were literally combing every fiber and every floorboard. They’d found a handful of hair, yanked out by the root, but Kent was now too overwhelmed by the reality of their killer to be as excited as he’d been at the discovery of the partial hair at the Clary clearing twelve days before. They’d found white powder scattered on Kelly’s pillow and on the carpet next to her bed. Grimly they’d bagged it. If it was ketamine in powder form, Kent told him, it meant the killer was not only injecting it intravenously, but forcing his victims to inhale it, rendering them completely helpless in under ten seconds.
They’d found a clump of sawdust in the carpet. That had excited Kent. He’d carefully tagged and bagged it. It was their first clue as to where Rudy was taking the girls.
They
had Kelly’s cell phone. She’d received a five-minute call just before midnight, no caller ID available. Like Steven expected there’d be one. For a boy who couldn’t pass chemistry, Rudy Lutz seemed pretty damn smart.
They’d found a footprint in the soft dirt outside her window and Steven was grateful that Mrs. Templeton took such pride in her lawn and flowers. And that she was a conscientious water conserver. Her sprinklers were set to go off at eleven P.M. when water absorption into the soil was most efficient, meaning the ground would stay moist enough for a shoe print until about three A.M.
So they had a three-hour window when the kidnapping had taken place.
And they had a pair of wildly terrified parents, stunned by grief, unable to give Steven any more information than he already knew.
Beyond that, he thought, refocusing on the last group of teens just now filing out of the room, they had nothing. He rose and stretched. “That was fun.”
Sandra glared at him balefully. “I want double overtime.” Steven’s lips curved. “You’re salaried. You don’t get overtime. Besides, you have teenagers. You should be used to this by now.”
Liz rubbed her forehead. “I’m so out of the loop. How can mothers let their daughters leave the house dressed that way? I haven’t seen so many midriffs since the last time I tuned into MTV by accident. It’s like a billboard for sex offenders.”
Sandra shook her head, digging into the garbage for the cups the teens had thrown away. The school had set out a cup of each color before each group and she noted who’d picked up which color while the group was ongoing. “Sex offenders don’t need billboards or midriffs, Liz. You know that.”
Liz handed her labeled baggies one at a time. They’d developed a rhythm over the course of the day. “I know. I just hate to see these young girls displaying themselves so . . .”
“Sluttily?” Nancy supplied, then grimaced. “God, that isn’t even a word. One day with these kids and I’m making up words.”
“And we get to come back tomorrow,” Steven declared with false cheer, then pretended to flinch when all three women turned on him menacingly. “Hey, at least we got the football team and soccer team and the basketball team today.”
“You got part of them,” Bondioli corrected, coming into the room, a marked-up roster in his hands. “You’ve still got about twenty athletes and another hundred kids in the junior class alone.”
Sandra groaned. “We’ll be at this all week.”
“But we have to talk to all of them,” Liz reminded her. “No favorites.” Then closed her mouth abruptly when Bondioli’s dark brows shot up like a rocket.
“You do have a suspect,” he said. Then sat down in a chair, a stunned look on his face. “And it’s one of our students. Dear God.”
Steven sighed. “We never said that, Lucas.”
Bondioli narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t have to. Just tell me who.”
Steven wondered if the man even knew he clenched his fists. “You know we couldn’t do that even if we did have a suspect.” He sat down next to Bondioli. “You want us to catch him, right?”
Bondioli nodded, looking completely miserable. “He’s killed three girls. And now he has Kelly. I have a daughter her age. I just can’t even imagine . . .”
“Nobody can,” Steven told him, reaching for the roster in Bondioli’s trembling hand. He ran down the list for the names they’d interviewed and the ones they had not. Then frowned.
“What?” Liz asked, dropping in the chair next to him. Steven shook his head. “I just noticed that our resident flunkee Rudy has a brother. He never showed up on any of the lists of suspects for the vandalism in Jenna’s classroom.”
Bondioli leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, weariness etched into his face. “He doesn’t run with his brother’s friends,” he said. “Josh is a special needs student.”
Steven stared at the name, wondering why Davies had never mentioned a brother. “What’s his special need?”
“Josh is cognitively challenged. His IQ tests at about eighty-five. He’s able to compete with the other kids on a remedial academic level with special help.”
“Then what’s he doing in Jenna’s beginning chemistry class?” Steven asked. “That is what she teaches first period, isn’t it?”
Bondioli nodded. “Josh came to me early this year and begged to be put into ‘normal’ classes.” He punctuated the air with his fingers. “Said he wanted to at least try. I think he wanted to show his father he could be as good at something as Rudy was. And given Rudy’s propensity to fail classes for complete lack of effort, I think Josh has a pretty good chance of doing so. His grades are all in except for English and Chemistry. He’s got mostly Cs. A D in math.” He opened his eyes and looked over at Steven. “He’s in Casey’s English class and of course Jenna’s Chemistry class. Neither of them have been able to turn in their grades for the quarter.”
“I suppose they’ve been otherwise occupied,” Steven murmured, his mind racing, wondering if trying to trick information out of a cognitively challenged teen was as reprehensible as it felt and not caring one single iota. He’d interview Josh Lutz and he’d use every skill in his repertoire to get anything out of the boy he could. For now, though, he kept his voice even. “I’ll be anxious to talk to him tomorrow. He knew Kelly, right?”
Bondioli’s dark eyes flashed. “He knows her, yes. Have you already decided she’s dead?”
Steven sighed. “I’m sorry, Lucas. That was an insensitive slip. I’m tired, I suppose.”
“I guess I understand.” Bondioli stood up. “You’ll be seeing Jenna out tonight?”
“I will.” And every night until she’s safe, Steven thought. Bondioli’s eyes softened. “Good. She needs somebody to take care of her.”
“I plan to,” Steven answered, completely aware of the stares of his three female coworkers.
Bondioli’s face lit in a slow grin. “Well now, that’s good to hear. I can only hope she lets you.”
Steven frowned. “She’d better.”
“She will,” Jenna said from the door. “I’m safe as I’ll ever be with these fine people to guard me.” She smiled at Steven and his heart did a slow roll in his chest. “Go home, Lucas. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m betting Steven will be, too,” Nancy snickered and Liz and Sandra grinned knowingly while Jenna’s cheeks heated to an attractive rose.
“So will Helen,” Liz added. “Now maybe she can concentrate on finding somebody for me. I’m not picky. Tall, dark, handsome. Rich is good.”
“Don’t forget a good kisser,” Sandra said. “And, uh, undercover skill doesn’t hurt either.”
Nancy’s snicker became a full laugh. “Is he, Jenna?” Jenna set her mouth in a prim line even as her violet eyes danced. “That would be telling.”
Liz took Jenna’s arm and led her from the room. “Which is just what we had in mind. We have very sophisticated interrogation techniques.”
Sandra grabbed her purse with an amused backward glance at Steven. “Yeah, it’s called thirty-two-ounce margaritas at happy hour.”
TWENTY-NINE
Thursday, October 13, 8:00 A.M.
“OKAY, BOYS AND GIRLS,” STEVEN SAID loudly to bring his team to order. “Tell us what you know.”
Sandra rolled her eyes. “That you’re totally tubular and we’re like, so lucky, y’know, to be like, your helpers and all.” She pretended to stick her finger down her throat. “Gag me.”
Kent snickered and Steven felt his cheeks heat. “Thank you, Sandra,” he said dryly, “for that fascinating foray into adolescent linguistics. Do we know anything more pertinent to the matter at hand before venturing out into yet another day with our teen interviewees?”
Sandra shuddered and Nancy looked pained. Liz just sat there grinning.
“What?” he asked her. “What’s so funny?”
Liz shook her head, her eyes twinkling. “Nothing. I was just thinking how much a good night’s rest agrees with you. I expect Jenna is equ
ally rested.”
He knew his redheaded complexion was working overtime, but couldn’t stop the grin that nearly broke his jaw any more than he could erase from his mind the image of Jenna slipping into his room last night, her dark hair stark against her white silk kimono-style robe. Then the kimono slithered to the floor and there were only silk stockings, garters, and . . . skin. And Jenna.
Davies scowled, which made Steven feel inordinately pleased. That he’d had a rousing, satisfying night of sex must show. He could certainly think of nothing else short of blows to make the interest in Davies’s eyes disappear. Because the man still was interested in Jenna. His Jenna.
Steven looked away from Davies and back to the group. “Okay, back to business. Kent?”
Kent sobered and opened his folder. “Alev’s limbs were severed with a circular saw.”
Everyone around the table became alert. “What?” Steven asked. “Can they tell what kind?”
“Diane’s got one of her guys tracing the pattern of the saw.” Kent looked slightly nauseous, then visibly shook himself back into focus. “The hairs we found in Kelly’s room yesterday were microscopically similar to the hair from the Clary clearing. Same color, same everything.”
“From the same guy?” Steven asked.
“Without DNA confirmation I can only testify that they are similar,” Kent answered. “But between us, I’d have to say yes.”
“What about the white powder?”
Kent frowned at that. “Ketamine, dried. This is a common way to treat the substance. Dissolve it in a solvent and let it crystallize on filter paper. The powder is commonly rolled into cigarette paper, lit up, and inhaled. Three puffs and the user’s out. It’s more uncommon to be directly inhaled. I found a fiber attached to one of the powder crystals.” He pulled out an enlarged microscopic view. “This is at five hundred times magnification. See the fiber attached to the crystal? It’s a specialty nonwoven, made for filtration.”
Steven stared at the photo. “How special?”