“Ed?” Chase asked, when Nate had closed the door behind him.
“Oh, lots of good stuff,” Ed said, “to mystify and confuse.” He put two plastic bags on the table, each containing a gun. “This one,” he said, tapping a revolver, “was found in Kate’s hand. The other one was found in the grass.” He got up and drew a triangle on the whiteboard. “Kate was standing here, at the top of the triangle. This,” he pointed to the point that jutted out to the left side, “was where we found the second gun. It’s a semiauto with a silencer. This point at the bottom is where Ms. French was standing.”
“What comes next is my favorite part,” Chase said sarcastically.
“We found the slug that went through Gretchen’s arm over here.” Ed pointed to an area outside the triangle, to the far right. “You guys keepin’ up?”
Luke frowned. “How is that possible? Unless it ricocheted, there’s no way it could have come from Kate’s gun.”
“Because the bullet that hit Gretchen French didn’t come from Kate’s gun. It came from here.” Ed pointed to where they had found the semiautomatic.
“So the semi shot Gretchen?” Nancy asked.
“No,” Ed said. “There were three guns—Kate’s, the semiauto, and a third gun that we didn’t recover. The third gun shot Gretchen and the semiauto shot Kate, but Kate Davis didn’t shoot anybody.”
Pete shook his head. “I have a headache now.”
“Join the club,” Chase said. “Ballistics says the shot Kate fired was likely a blank.”
Chloe blinked. “Why?”
“So who shot Gretchen?” Talia Scott asked.
“Nobody knows yet,” Ed said. “We’re going through the video of that area, but there were people running around everywhere after the first shot was fired.”
“So if Kate didn’t shoot Gretchen,” Luke said, “what did she mean by ‘I missed’?”
“We did get a good angle on Kate with our surveillance video,” Ed said. “When we realized she’d shot a blank, we went back and looked at the video again. She wasn’t aiming for Gretchen or Susannah. She was aiming over here.” He pointed to the area where the semiautomatic had been found. “She was aiming for whoever shot her.”
“And if that’s not interesting enough, there’s one more thing.” Chase slid a photo across the table. “Kate’s autopsy photo.”
Everyone drew a breath.
“She has the swastika brand,” Chase said. “Hell.”
“I think we need to get some more information on Kate Davis,” Luke said. “It’s time for another visit to Mayor Garth. Will you come with me, Chloe?”
“Of course. Do we have any information on his wife?”
“The BOLO on her Chrysler minivan isn’t showing up anything,” Pete said, “but she’s on the move. I’ve got her cell phone records right here. She’s called Kate Davis’s cell phone a couple times a day since she left on Thursday. She’s headed west. Today she was in Reno. The last call to Kate’s phone was at two p.m. today. Lasted five minutes.”
Luke frowned. “Two p.m.? Kate was already dead by two p.m. today.”
“I know,” Pete said. “Did they find a cell phone on Kate’s body?”
“No,” Chase said. “But somebody answered the call, or the voicemail would have picked up. Let’s get that phone account transferred to one of ours. Chloe, can you make that happen?”
“Yeah, but it’ll take some time. I think I know a judge that’ll help me speed it up.”
“Thanks,” Chase said. “Pete, does Garth’s wife have family out west?”
“No. She has an aunt who lived in Dutton, but whose neighbors say moved away after she married Garth. Nobody has a forwarding address on the aunt. I’m still searching.”
“Did you talk to Angie Delacroix?” Luke asked. “The hairdresser? Susannah says she knows everything that goes on in the town.”
“No, but I will.” Pete ran a hand over his bald head, trying for levity. “I need a trim.”
Everyone smiled, but sadly.
“I checked Mrs. Davis’s credit cards,” Pete went on. “I found activity in all the places she’s called from. I called the local police in the towns where she stopped. They’re sending me security tapes from the places the credit cards were used. At least we can try to find out if she’s driving a different vehicle. Whoever has Kate’s phone might have told her Kate’s dead. I’m betting that will make her go even deeper under.”
“Maybe the hairdresser will know who else she’s calling,” Chase said. “Nancy?”
“I’ve searched all day for Chili Pepper, the arsonist,” Nancy said. “His parents say they haven’t seen him in years because he’s a no- account SOB of a son. The neighbors back up the parents. I found his girlfriend’s house and she denies knowledge of his arson activities. She says he’s nicknamed Chili because he’s hot in bed.” She grimaced. “Which is really gross, trust me.”
“Lovely individual,” Chloe said. “Anything he can’t do without, any addictions?”
“Yeah. I found syringes in his girlfriend’s house. I asked to use the bathroom and snuck a peek in her medicine cabinet. I know,” Nancy said when Chloe looked indignant. “I saw a bottle of insulin with Clive Pepper’s name on it.”
“Girlfriend’s name?” Chloe asked, shaking her head.
“Lulu Jenkins,” Nancy said. “I didn’t touch anything.”
“Yeah,” Chloe said, annoyed, “but if we find him, it’s fruit of an unlawful search.”
“Who’s gonna tell him?” Nancy asked, exasperated. “You?”
Chloe turned to Chase, glowering. “Your people are going to get me sanctioned.”
“Calm down. Nancy, don’t do that again. Chloe, Nancy’s not gonna do that again.”
“So he’s a diabetic,” Luke said. “He has to come up for insulin soon.”
“Excellent,” Chase said. “Ed, did you get that scan of the bunker property?”
Becky, Luke thought. The name Beardsley heard as someone was being buried.
“No. They were supposed to come at three and I was busy with the cemetery crime scene then,” Ed said. “Sorry, Chase. It’s dark now, so we’ll start at daybreak tomorrow.”
“I got us some help,” Chase announced. “Four new agents.”
“When do they start?” Luke asked.
“A few have already started. One of them located Isaac Gamble, the nurse whose tracking badge was closest to Beardsley last night when his IV was tampered with. Gamble said he went to a bar, and the bartender and the security video alibi him.”
“So somebody else tried to kill Beardsley,” Pete said.
“Looks like. I’ve got two of the new agents viewing the video we took at the cemetery, trying to find who fired.”
Psychologist Mary McCrady leaned forward. “And why he dropped his gun?”
“He made a mistake,” Ed said, “or he didn’t want to be caught with it.”
Mary shrugged. “You could be right. But if you think about the coordination involved to have pulled this off . . . If Kate Davis fired a blank, the shooter had to wait for the exact moment of the shot to shoot Gretchen French. And he’d have to know in advance that Kate planned to shoot. That doesn’t seem like someone who’d drop a gun by mistake. I think he wanted you to find it.”
“Mind games,” Luke said. “He’s playing with us.”
“I think so,” Mary said. “Did Kate Davis know her gun had blanks?”
“Not blanks,” Ed said. “Just one blank. The rest of the chambers had live shells.”
“Round puzzle, all yellow,” Chase said. “You’re right, Mary. If Kate intended to hurt Gretchen before she could go public about the rapes, then she wouldn’t have had any blanks. If she’d planned just to scare her, she would have had all blanks. And if she was aiming for someone else, we’re missing a yellow puzzle piece.”
“Whoever she was aiming at knew Kate would be coming to the cemetery with a gun,” Luke said. “Someone was very prepared.”
&nbs
p; There was a knock on the door and Leigh stuck her head in. “Chase, Germanio’s on the phone from Savannah. He says it’s urgent.”
Chase put him on the speaker phone. “Hank, we’re all here. What’s going on?”
“I found Helen Granville,” Germanio said. “She’s dead.”
Chase closed his eyes. “How?”
“Hung herself. I found her sister’s house, but there were police already here. The sister found Mrs. Granville swinging from a rafter in the bedroom.”
“Did you call our ME in the Savannah field office?” Chase asked.
“He’s on his way. Helen Granville’s sister said she arrived here last night and was very frightened. The sister had to work today. When she came home, Helen was dead.”
“Did she say Granville’s wife seemed suicidal?” Luke asked.
“No, just ‘very frightened.’ The sister is pretty shaken up. I may be able to get more out of her when she calms down.”
“Keep me updated.” Chase ended the call and sighed. “Very, very bad day. Let’s finish this meeting. We all need to sleep. Talia, what did you find up in Ellijay?”
“The dogs never picked up the scent. Borenson might have been taken away in a car.” She looked at Luke. “Crime lab found nothing on the ugly bulldog. You want her?”
“Me?” Luke said. “Why me?”
“Because she’s going to a shelter otherwise. I’d take her, but I already have four dogs and my roommate says we can’t have any more.”
“I gave Daniel my last dog,” Luke said. “I can’t take another one.”
She shrugged. “She’s a nice dog. I hope somebody’ll want her at the shelter.”
Nobody moved and Luke sighed. “I’ll take the damn dog.”
Talia smiled. “I knew you would.”
“But you have to come down to Poplar Bluff with me tomorrow,” Luke said. “I have to interview teenaged girls who wouldn’t discuss the circumstances of Kasey Knight’s disappearance two years ago. You’re better talking to girls than I am.”
“Okay,” Talia said. “I’ll go, but you have to bring me some of your mama’s food.”
“Wait,” Nancy said. “Did you say Poplar Bluff?”
“Yeah,” Luke said. “It’s about two hours south of here.”
Nancy took a list from her pocket. “And one of the places Mansfield had mapped.”
Chase leaned forward. “What else is on that list?”
Nancy looked up. “Panama City, Florida,” she said.
“Ashley Csorka,” Luke murmured, and Nancy nodded.
“This is Mansfield’s hit list,” she said. “This is where he went to grab the girls.”
“We can match against last knowns in the missing kids database,” Luke said, energized. “And to pictures in the catalog. This list is gold.”
“We need to know if Mansfield grabbed them or lured them,” Talia said, “and if he lured them, then how? Once we know how they’re being taken, we may be able to track them to Rocky.”
“And find the missing girls,” Luke said.
“Good work, people,” Chase said. “Let’s go get some rest. I’ll get the stenos to work on matching this list to the missing kids database during the night. Once we know names, we can begin informing parents. Be back here tomorrow at eight a.m.”
Everyone had risen when Leigh opened the door again, her expression pinched. “A call came in on the hotline, for Luke. A woman claims to have info on the girl in ICU.”
Luke jerked around to look at Chase. “We never released her existence to the press. Is she still on the hotline, Leigh?”
“No. She wants to meet you in front of the ER in twenty minutes. Alone.”
“I’ll go now, but the Csorka girl’s father’s supposed to be here at six.”
“I’ll stay,” Talia said. “I’ll talk with him and get his daughter’s DNA sample to the lab.”
“Thanks,” Chase said. “The rest of you get some sleep. I’ll call if anything happens.”
Chapter Fifteen
Raleigh, North Carolina, Saturday, February 3, 5:45 p.m
Harry Grimes crouched next to a stain on Dr. Cassidy’s garage floor. “It’s blood.”
Steven turned to the elderly neighbor. “What time did his car leave, ma’am?”
“About noon. The doctor always stops and asks me how I am. He didn’t today. I thought he was preoccupied.” She wrung her hands. “I should have called the police.”
Harry stood up. “Did it look like the doctor driving?”
“I don’t know. I don’t see so well these days. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you, ma’am. You’ve been a big help.” When she was gone, Harry met Steven’s eyes. “Nobody remembers seeing Genie Cassidy on that bus.”
“Steven, Harry.” A crime lab tech motioned to them. “Kent has something.”
Kent Thompson, CSU, was sitting at the doctor’s computer. “The doctor got an e-mail from Genie around eleven this morning, saying she was at the bus station and would he pick her up. He says he will and that he’s got their plane tickets for Toronto.”
“He was going to take her out of the country?” Steven asked.
“That’s what we’re supposed to think. Look at the envelope info on the two e-mails.”
Harry did and immediately saw Kent’s point. “Both e-mails were sent over the same wireless router,” he said. “The router here, in this house.”
“So whoever sent the e-mail was in this house,” Steven said.
“Exactly,” Kent said. “Genie’s message might have been sent from a PDA or a laptop. Either way, Genie was not at the bus station when she sent it.”
Harry nodded. “I’ll get out an Amber alert.”
Atlanta, Saturday, February 3, 6:05 p.m.
“Miss Vartanian, wake up.”
Susannah woke with a start. She’d fallen asleep in the chair next to M. Jane Doe’s bed. She blinked up into the face of Ella, Jane Doe’s night nurse. “What time is it?”
“A little after six. You have a call at the nurses’ station. It’s the GBI office.”
Susannah blinked. “Why are you here if it’s only six? Where’s Jennifer?”
“Jennifer got sick and had to leave, so I came in early. Your caller is waiting.”
Susannah took the phone from a nurse at the desk. “This is Susannah Vartanian.”
“This is Brianna Bromley, one of the GBI stenos. I have a message from Agent Papadopoulos. He wants you to meet him at the entrance of the ER. It’s urgent.”
Her heart began to pound harder. “When?”
“He gave me the message fifteen minutes ago. He should be there any minute.”
“Thank you.” Susannah ran, shivering when the cold air hit her face. She searched for Luke’s car, but instead saw a familiar face. “Jennifer? Ella said you were sick.”
The day nurse’s eyes were red, her face pasty. “I’m waiting for my ride.”
“You don’t look well. Have you been waiting long?”
Jennifer’s jaw tightened. “He’s an hour late.”
“How rude.” Just then a car entered her peripheral vision, headlights momentarily blinding her. She was blinking from the glare when it hit her that the car was black with its dark tinted windows up. As it approached, the passenger side window began to glide down and too late Susannah saw the glint of metal.
“Down!” she shouted, dragging the nurse to the ground. She heard the shot splinter the air, her head jerking up to see the car’s license plate as it peeled away. DRC119.
Horrified, she stared after it until a gurgling sound made her look down.
“Oh shit, oh shit.” Susannah dragged in a ragged breath, her eyes now locked on the red rapidly spreading on the nurse’s scrubs. “Jennifer. Jennifer. Somebody help.”
Jennifer Ohman’s eyes fluttered open. “Bobby,” she said. “It was Bobby.”
Footsteps smacked on the pavement around them and Susannah leaned closer to the wounded woman. “Bobby who?”
r /> Behind her, tires screeched and a door slammed. “Oh my God.”
It was Luke, but Susannah kept her eyes on the nurse’s face. “Who is Bobby?”
“Move, lady,” one of the medics snapped.
Luke lifted her to her feet, his eyes anxiously examining her. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” Then she was crushed against him, his arms around her, tight and strong. His heart thundered under her ear. She gripped the lapels of his suit and hung on, pressing her cheek against his chest. He was solid. But he was shaking.
“I heard the shot. I saw you go down.” His voice was gruff, breathless. “Are you sure you’re not hit?”
She shook her head, wanting to stay where she was, safe, but she needed to tell him. Struggling for calm, she tugged on his lapels until his arms loosened. But he didn’t let go. She met those black eyes, once again her anchor. “She said ‘It was Bobby.’ ”
He frowned, confused. “Who’s Bobby?”
“I don’t know, but she said the name twice. ‘Bobby. It was Bobby.’ ”
His hands moved from her back to grip her upper arms. “Can you stand?”
“Yes.” She forced her hands to release his lapels. “I’ll be all right.”
He leaned over the gurney. “Jennifer. Who is Bobby? What about the girl?”
“You have to move, now,” the doctor commanded. Luke followed them into the ER.
DRC119. “Luke, wait. Luke.” Susannah started after him, but stumbled, still dazed.
“Susannah.” Chase was suddenly there, holding her up. “What happened?”
“I was just . . . standing here next to Jane Doe’s nurse. She was waiting for her ride and the car came. It was the black car, Chase. DRC119.” She pursed her lips, trying not to hyperventilate. “I tried to push her out of the way, but I was too late.”
“Sshh. Just wait.” Chase radioed for all available units to search for the black car. Then he led her into the ER as Luke came out of the patient care bay, his face grim.
“Jennifer Ohman’s dead,” he said.
Susannah had to fight to breathe. “She was standing next to me. She’s dead because of me. Gretchen was standing next to me. Oh God. Oh God.”