“Jessica,” Agent Tully finally blurted out. “Her name was Jessica Beckwith.”
Maggie realized she could have found the girl’s name just as easily. The top document was the medical examiner’s autopsy report, and the girl had already been identified at that point. She tried not to think of the parents. Some disconnection was necessary.
“Any trace recovered at the scene that could be used for DNA testing?”
“Nothing substantial. Some fingerprints, but they aren’t matching Stucky’s. Weird thing is, everything looked wiped clean except for this set of fingerprints—one index, one thumb. Chances are they belong to a rookie cop who touched stuff he wasn’t supposed to touch and now he’s afraid to admit it. AFIS hasn’t come up with anything yet.”
He sat on the edge of the desk, laying his folder open on a pile, leaving his fingers free to string more paper clips together.
“The weapon was not retrieved. Is that right?”
“Correct. Looks to be very thin, razor sharp and single edged. I’m thinking maybe even a scalpel, from the way he’s able to slice and dice so easily.”
Maggie winced at his choice of description, and he caught her.
“Sorry,” he said. “That’s the first thing that came to mind.”
“Any saliva on the body? Any semen in the mouth?”
“No, which I know is different from Stucky’s usual M.O.”
“If it is Stucky.”
She felt him staring at her but avoided his eyes and examined the autopsy report. Why would Stucky hold back or pull out early now? He certainly wouldn’t go through the trouble of using a condom. After they had revealed his identity as being Albert Stucky, he had blatantly gone on to do whatever he wanted. And that usually meant showing off his sexual prowess by raping his victims several times, and often forcing them to perform oral sex on him. She wished she could take a second look at the girl’s body. By now she knew what kinds of things to look for, otherwise insignificant physical evidence that telegraphed Stucky’s patterns. Unfortunately, she saw at the bottom of the form that Jessica’s body had already been released to her family. Even if she stopped the transfer, all the PE would be gone, washed away by a well-intentioned funeral director.
“We did find a stolen cellular phone in the Dumpster,” Agent Tully said.
“But it was wiped clean?”
“Right. But the phone records show a call to the pizza place earlier that evening.”
Maggie stopped and looked up at Agent Tully. My God, could it have been that easy? “That’s how he abducted her? He simply ordered a pizza?”
“Initially that’s what we were thinking,” he explained. “We just found the delivery lists in her abandoned car. We’ve been running down the list, checking addresses and phone numbers. When Cunningham recognized Newburgh Heights as your new neighborhood, we checked for your address. Found it right away. Likewise, all the addresses are residential. But most of the people I’ve talked to so far were actually home and did receive their pizza. I have only a few left that I can’t reach by phone, but I plan to drive to Newburgh Heights and check them out.”
He handed her two photocopies of what looked like pieces of paper torn from a spiral notebook. The copier had even picked up the frayed edges. There were almost a dozen addresses on both lists. Hers was close to the top of the list labeled “#1.” She leaned against the wall. The exhaustion from the night before was catching up with her. Of course, she had spent most of last night pacing from window to window, watching and waiting. The only sleep she had gotten had been on the flight back from Kansas City, and how could anyone get any rest while bobbing thirty-eight thousand feet above control? Now she couldn’t even remember how long ago that was.
“Where did you find her car?”
“The airport’s long-term parking lot. Also found a telephone company van parked alongside it that was reported stolen a couple of weeks ago.”
“Any trace inside Jessica’s car?” she asked as she glanced over the list of addresses.
“There was some mud on the accelerator. Not much else. Her blood and some blond hair—also hers—were recovered from the trunk. He must have used her own car to dump her body. No signs of a struggle inside the car, though, if that’s what you’re thinking. He had to have taken her someplace where he could take his time with her. Problem is, there aren’t many abandoned warehouses or condemned properties in Newburgh Heights. I was thinking he might have given a business address, knowing the offices would be empty at night. But nothing commercial shows up on either list.”
Suddenly Maggie recognized an address on one of the lists. She stood up straight and away from the wall. No, it couldn’t be this easy. She reread the address.
“Actually, he may have had someplace much more luxurious in mind.”
“Did you find something?” Agent Tully was at her side, staring at the list that he must have examined over and over himself. But of course, he wouldn’t have seen it. How could he?
“This address,” Maggie pointed halfway down the page. “The house is for sale. It’s empty.”
“You’re kidding? Are you sure? If I remember correctly, the phone is still connected to a voice messaging service.”
“The owners may be forwarding their phone calls. Yes, I’m sure it’s for sale. My real estate agent showed it to me about two weeks ago.”
She no longer cared about the rest of the file, which she had tucked under her arm. She was almost out the door before Agent Tully stopped her.
“Hold on,” he said, grabbing his wrinkled jacket from the chair behind his desk. As he did so, he stumbled over a worn pair of sneakers Maggie hadn’t noticed. Agent Tully reached for the corner of his desk to catch his balance and one of the piles gave way, scattering papers and photos across the floor. When he waved off her help, Maggie leaned against the doorjamb and waited. It was bad enough Cunningham was making her see Dr. James Kernan, but saddling her with her Dudley DoRight seemed almost laughable.
CHAPTER 37
Maggie tried to wait patiently while Delores Heston of Heston Realty attempted to find the right key. The sun was sinking behind the ridge of trees. She couldn’t believe how much time they had wasted trying to track down Tess McGowan. And although Ms. Heston had been more than accommodating, Maggie felt agitated, on edge and overly anxious. She knew this was where Albert Stucky had killed Jessica Beckwith. She could feel it. She could sense it. It was so easy, so simple, so very much like Stucky.
Ms. Heston dug out another bundle of keys and Maggie fidgeted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Ms. Heston noticed.
“I don’t know where Tess is. I’m sure she probably just decided to take a couple of days off.”
It was the same explanation the woman had given Maggie over the phone, but again Maggie could hear the concern.
“One of these has to work.”
“I would think you’d have them labeled.” Maggie tried to contain her irritation. She knew Ms. Heston was doing them a favor by letting them take a look after their bogus explanation about investigating possible break-ins. Since when did the FBI get involved in local burglaries? Luckily, Ms. Heston didn’t question them.
“Actually, these are the spare keys. We do keep a labeled set, but Tess must have forgotten to return it after she showed the house yesterday.”
“Yesterday? She showed the house to someone yesterday?”
Ms. Heston stopped and gave Maggie a nervous glance over her shoulder. Maggie realized her voice must have sounded too shrill, too alarmed.
“Yes, I’m sure it was yesterday. I checked the show schedule before I left the office tonight—Wednesday, April 1. Is there a problem? Do you think the house may have been broken into before that?”
“I really can’t say,” Maggie said, trying to sound indifferent when she wanted to kick in the door. “Do you know who she showed the house to?”
“No, we keep the names off the schedule for confidentiality reasons.”
“
You don’t have the name of the person written down anywhere?”
Ms. Heston shot her another concerned look over her shoulder. The woman’s flawless deep brown skin now had worry lines in her forehead and around her mouth. “Tess would have it written down somewhere. I trust my agents. No need for them to have me standing over their shoulder.” Concern was quickly turning to frustration.
Maggie hadn’t meant to make the woman defensive. She simply wanted the goddamn door opened.
She glanced around and saw Agent Tully finally emerge from the house across the street. He had been inside a long time, and Maggie wondered if the blonde in spandex who had answered the door simply found him charming, or if she really had some information to share. Judging by the woman’s smile and wave, Maggie guessed it to be the former. She watched the tall, lanky agent hurry across the street. Out here, he moved with a confident, long-legged gait. In his dark suit, sunglasses and closely cropped hair, he looked like standard government-issue FBI, except that Agent Tully was too polite, too friendly and much too accommodating. If he hadn’t told her he was from Cleveland, she would have guessed the Midwest. Maybe it was something in Ohio’s water.
“This house has a security system.” Ms. Heston was still trying to find the right key. “Oh, here we go. Finally.”
The lock clicked as Agent Tully bounded up the steps. Ms. Hes-ton turned, startled by his sudden appearance.
Ms. Heston, this is Special Agent R. J. Tully.
“Oh my. This must be important.”
“Just routine, ma’am. We tend to travel in pairs these days,” Tully said with a smile that relaxed the woman and immediately reminded Maggie of Sergeant Joe Friday.
She wanted to ask him if he had learned anything from the neighbor, but knew she’d have to wait for a more appropriate time. She hated waiting.
As soon as they entered the foyer, Maggie noticed the security system had been disarmed. None of the regular lights flashed or blinked.
“Are you certain the service has been continued?” Maggie asked as she pointed out the silent box. By now it should have been buzzing incessantly, screeching for the correct code to be entered.
“Yes, I’m quite certain. It’s in our contract with the owners.” Heston punched several buttons and the box came alive. “I don’t understand this. Surely Tess wouldn’t have forgotten to set it.”
Maggie remembered Tess McGowan being very careful about deactivating and reactivating the alarm systems of the houses she had shown Maggie, this one included. Security systems had been one of Maggie’s priorities, and she knew this one had not been anything out of the ordinary. She remembered it as being sufficient for the regular home owner. Most people didn’t need to barricade themselves in at night away from serial killers.
“Mind if we look around?” Agent Tully asked, but Maggie was already halfway up the open staircase. She reached the first landing when she heard Ms. Heston’s panicked voice.
“Oh, good Lord!”
Maggie leaned over the oak railing to see Ms. Heston pointing to a briefcase she had discovered in the corner of the living room.
“This belongs to Tess.” Up until now, the woman had been incredibly professional. Now her sudden panic was unnerving.
By the time Maggie came down the steps, Agent Tully had taken the briefcase and started carefully extracting its contents with a white handkerchief.
“No way that girl’s gonna leave this and not come back for it.” The panic rushed her words, reducing her previous crisp dialect to a slang version she obviously found more comfortable. “There’s her appointment book, her pocketbook…good Lord, something’s just not right here.”
Maggie watched as Agent Tully brought out the last item—a labeled set of keys. Without getting a closer look, Maggie knew they were the keys for this house. Suddenly she felt nauseated. Tess McGowan may have shown this house yesterday, but she certainly didn’t leave of her own free will.
CHAPTER 38
“We don’t know that Stucky had anything to do with this.” Tully tried to sound convincing, but he wasn’t sure he believed his own words.
It was obvious he needed to be the objective one. Ever since Ms. Heston left them, Agent O’Dell seemed to be coming apart at the seams. The calm, controlled professional now paced, quick long steps, back and forth. She ran her fingers through her short dark hair too many times, tucking strands behind her ears, tousling it with her fingers and tucking it in again. Her voice was clipped, and possessed an edge that hadn’t existed before. Tully thought he heard it quiver several times.
He felt as if he was watching from the sidelines as she passed by him. She didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands. They ducked into her trouser pockets, then a quick swipe through her hair again. Several times they slipped into her jacket, and he knew she was checking her revolver. Tully wasn’t sure what to do with her. This was so unlike the woman he had spent most of the day with.
It had gotten dark, and Agent O’Dell had gone through the entire two-story house, turning on lights and pulling closed what few draperies there were, but only after staring out into the night at each window. Was she expecting him to be there?
She was doing a second check downstairs now. Tully decided they needed to leave. The house was spotless. Though the master bedroom smelled strongly of a recent dousing of ammonia, there was no trace that anything had occurred in the house. Least of all, a brutal murder and a violent kidnapping.
“There’s no evidence that anything suspicious happened here,” he tried again. “I think it’s time we leave.” He glanced at his watch and cringed when he saw that it was after nine. Emma would be furious with him for having to spend the entire evening with Mrs. Lopez.
“Tess McGowan was the real estate agent who sold me my house,” O’Dell repeated. It was the most she had said to him in the last several hours. “Don’t you see? Don’t you get it?”
He knew exactly what she was thinking. It was the same thing he was thinking. Albert Stucky would have known too, especially since he must be spending a good deal of time watching Agent O’Dell. He would have seen the two of them together, just the way he saw the pizza girl and the Kansas City waitress. But the truth was, they had absolutely no evidence that McGowan was even missing, other than a forgotten briefcase, and that was hardly proof. He refused to fuel O’Dell’s panic.
“Right now there’s nothing substantial to prove Ms. McGowan was abducted. And there’s nothing more we can do here. We need to call it a night. Maybe we can track down Ms. McGowan tomorrow.”
“We won’t track her down. He’s taken her.” The quiver was there though she did her best to hide it. “He’s added her to his collection. She may be dead already.” Her hands reached for her holster then disappeared into her pockets. “Or if she’s not dead, she may be wishing she was,” she added in almost a whisper.
Tully rubbed his eyes. He had removed his glasses hours ago. O’Dell was starting to spook him. He didn’t want to think about the fact that Albert Stucky may have added to his collection. Back on his desk, buried under manuals and documents, he had a bulging file of missing women from across the country. Women who had disappeared without a trace in the last five months since Stucky’s escape.
The volume wasn’t that unusual. It happened all the time. Some of the women left and didn’t want to be found. Others had been abused by husbands and lovers and chose to disappear. But too many were gone without any explanation, and Tully knew enough about Stucky’s games to pray that none of them in his file folder were actually in Stucky’s new collection.
“Look, there’s nothing more we can do tonight.”
“We need to do a luminol test. We can have Keith Ganza bring it and the Lumi-Light, so we can go over the master bedroom.”
“There’s nothing here. There’s absolutely no reason to believe anything happened in this house, Agent O’Dell.”
“The Lumi-Light might show any latent prints. And the luminol will show any blood left in the cracks, any
stains we can’t see. He obviously tried to clean things up, but you can’t clean enough to get rid of blood.” It was almost as if she didn’t hear him. As though he wasn’t there and she was talking to herself.
“We can’t do anything more tonight. I’m exhausted. You must be exhausted.” When she started for the stairs again, he gently grabbed her arm. “Agent O’Dell.”
She wrenched her arm away, turning on him with eyes flashing anger. She stood solidly, firmly in place, staring at him as though challenging him to a dual. Then without warning she turned on her heel and marched to the door, snapping off lights in her path.
Tully followed her cue before she changed her mind. He ran upstairs and shut off those lights, and when he returned, O’Dell was in the foyer, activating the security system. It wasn’t until he locked the front door and walked alongside her to his car that he saw her revolver in her hand, dropped at her side but in a tight grip.
Suddenly Tully realized that the hysteria, the frustration, the anger he had witnessed was actually fear. How stupid of him not to have seen it before now. Special Agent Maggie O’Dell was scared to death, not just for Tess McGowan, but for herself, too.
CHAPTER 39
Tess jerked awake. Her throat felt like sandpaper, so dry it hurt to swallow. Her eyelids felt like lead shutters. Her chest ached as though some massive weight had pressed against her. There was nothing on top of her now. She lay on what appeared to be a narrow, lumpy cot. The room was dimly lit, forcing her to squint. The smell of mildew surrounded her. A draft made her pull the scratchy blanket up under her chin.
She remembered feeling paralyzed. In a mad panic, she lifted both her arms, grateful to find no restraints but quickly disappointed to find her limbs heavy, movement awkward. They felt detached and unresponsive. But at least she could move and at least she was not tied down.