A girl wandered into the room rubbing her eyes and not bothering to acknowledge Maggie. She wore only a short nightshirt. Her long blond hair was tangled and her steps were those of a sleepwalker. Maggie recognized the teenager as the little girl in the photo Tully paid homage to on his office desk. The girl plopped into an oversize chair facing the TV, found a remote between the cushions and turned the TV on, flipping through the channels but not paying much attention. Maggie hated feeling that she had gotten the entire household out of bed as if it was the middle of the night instead of morning.
The girl stopped her channel surfing in the middle of a local news report. With the volume muted, Maggie still recognized the truck stop behind the handsome, young reporter who gestured to the gray trash bin cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape.
“Emma, shut the TV off, please,” Tully instructed after only a glance at the screen. His coffee mug was filled to the brim and the aroma filtered in with him. He handed Maggie a cold can of Diet Pepsi.
“What’s this?” she asked, taken by surprise.
“I remembered Pepsi is sorta your version of morning coffee.”
She stared at him, amazed that he would have noticed. No one except Anita ever remembered.
“Did I get it wrong? Is it regular and not diet?”
“No, it’s diet,” she said, finally taking the can. “Thanks.”
“Emma, this is Special Agent Maggie O’Dell. Agent O’Dell, this is my ill-mannered daughter, Emma.”
“Hi, Emma.”
The girl looked up and manufactured a smile that looked neither genuine nor comfortable.
“Emma, if you’re up for the morning, please put on some regular clothes.”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” She pulled herself out of the chair and wandered out of the room.
“Sorry about that,” he said while he skidded the chair Emma had vacated around to face Maggie and the sofa rather than the TV. “Sometimes I feel like aliens abducted my real daughter and transplanted this impostor.”
Maggie smiled and popped open the Diet Pepsi.
“You have any kids, Agent O’Dell?”
“No.” The answer seemed simple enough, but she noticed Tully still staring at her as though an explanation should follow. “Having a family is a little bit tougher to accomplish when you’re a woman in the FBI than when you’re a man in the FBI.”
He nodded as though it was some new revelation, as though he had never considered it before.
“I hope I didn’t wake your wife, too.”
“You’d have to be pretty noisy to do that.”
“Excuse me?”
“My wife lives in Cleveland…my ex-wife, that is.”
It was still a touchy subject. Maggie could see it in the way he suddenly avoided making eye contact. He sipped his coffee, wrapping both hands around the mug and taking his time. Then, as though he remembered why they were here in his living room on a Sunday morning, he stood up abruptly, set down the mug on the overflowing coffee table and started digging through the piles. Maggie couldn’t help wondering if there was any part of Agent Tully’s life that he kept organized.
He pulled out a map and started unfolding and spreading it out over the surface of uneven piles.
“From what you told me on the phone, I’m figuring this is the area we’re talking about.”
She took a close look at the spot he had highlighted on the map in fluorescent yellow. Here she had thought he wasn’t even listening to her when she had called and woken him.
He continued, “If Rosen was lost, it’s hard telling exactly where he was, but if you cross the Potomac using this toll bridge, there is this piece of land about five miles wide and fifteen miles long that hangs out into the river sort of like a peninsula. The toll bridge passes over the top half. The map shows no roads, not even unpaved ones down in the peninsula part. In fact, it looks like it’s all woods, rocks, probably ravines. Pretty tough terrain. In other words, a great place to hide out.”
“And a difficult place to escape from.” Maggie sat forward, hardly able to contain her excitement. This was it. This was where Stucky was hiding out and keeping his collection. “So when do we leave?”
“Hold on,” Tully sat down and reached for his coffee. “We’re doing this by the book, O’Dell.”
“Stucky strikes hard and fast and then disappears.” She let him hear her anger and urgency. “He’s already killed three women and possibly kidnapped two others in a week. And those are just the ones we know about.”
“I know,” he said much too calmly.
Was she the only one who seemed to understand this madman?
“He could pick up and leave any day, any minute. We can’t wait for court orders and county police cooperation or whatever the hell you think we need to wait for.”
He sipped his coffee, watching her over the rim. “Are you finished?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and sat back. She should never have called Tully. She knew she could talk Rosen into assembling a search team, though the area in question was across the river, which meant not only a different jurisdiction but also a different state.
“First of all, Assistant Director Cunningham is getting in touch with the Maryland officials.”
“Cunningham? You called Cunningham? Oh wonderful.”
“I’ve been trying to find out who owns the property.” He ignored her and went on. “It used to be owned by the government, which may account for that weird chemical concoction in the dirt. Probably something they were testing. It was purchased by a private corporation about four years ago, something called WH Enterprises. I can’t seem to find out anything about it, no managing CEO, no trustees, nothing.”
“Since when does the FBI need permission to hunt down a serial killer?”
“We’re operating on hunches, Agent O’Dell. We can’t send in a SWAT team when we don’t know what’s there. Even the mud simply means that Stucky may have been in this area. Doesn’t prove he’s still there.”
“Goddamn it, Tully!” She stood up and paced his living room. “This is the only lead we have as to where he might be, and you need to analyze it to death when we could just go find out!”
“Don’t you want to know what you might be walking into this time, Agent O’Dell?” He emphasized “this time,” and she knew he was referring to last August when she went running off to find Albert Stucky in an abandoned Miami warehouse. She hadn’t told anyone else. She had been following up on a hunch then, too. Only Stucky had been expecting her, waiting for her with a trap. Was it possible he’d be waiting for her again?
“So what do you suggest?”
“We wait,” Tully said as though waiting was no big deal. “We find out what’s there. The Maryland authorities and their resource people can fill us in. We find out who owns the property. Who knows? We certainly don’t want to go onto private property if there’s some white supremacist group holed up with an arsenal that could blow us off the planet.”
“How long are we talking?”
“It’s tough getting in touch with everyone we need on a Sunday.”
“How long, Agent Tully?”
“A day. Two at the most.”
She stared at him, the anger clawing to reveal itself.
“By now you should know what Albert Stucky can do in a day or two.” She calmly walked to the door and left, allowing the slamming door to enunciate what she thought about waiting.
CHAPTER 61
Tully sank into the chair and laid his head back against the cushion. He listened to O’Dell slam her car door and then gun the engine, squealing the tires—taking out her anger on his driveway. He could understand her frustration. Hell, he was frustrated, too. He wanted Stucky caught just as badly as O’Dell. But he knew this was personal for O’Dell. He couldn’t imagine what she must be feeling. Three women, all of them acquaintances of hers, all of them brutally murdered simply because they had the misfortune of meeting Maggie O’Dell.
When he lo
oked up, Emma stood in the door to the hallway, leaning against the wall and watching him. She hadn’t changed or combed her hair. He was suddenly too tired to remind her. She continued to stare at him, and he remembered that she still wasn’t talking to him. Well, fine. He wasn’t talking to her either. He laid his head back again.
“Was that your new partner?”
He glanced at her without moving from his comfortable position, trying to keep the surprise of her sudden armistice to himself in case she had temporarily forgotten.
“Yeah, O’Dell’s my new partner.”
“She sounded really pissed at you.”
“Yeah, I think she is. I guess I really have a way with women, don’t I?”
Surprisingly, Emma smiled. He smiled back and then she laughed. In two steps she came to him and crawled into his lap the way she used to do when she was a little girl. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight against him before she could change her mind. She tucked her head under his chin and settled in.
“Do you like her?”
“Who?” Tully forgot what they were talking about. It felt so good to hold his little girl again.
“O’Dell, your new partner.”
“Yeah, I guess I like her. She’s a smart, tough lady.”
“She’s really pretty.”
He hesitated, wondering if Emma was concerned he would run off with one of his co-workers just as her mother had done.
“Maggie O’Dell and I are only partners at work, Emma. There isn’t anything else going on between us.”
She sat quietly, and he wished she’d talk to him about any fears she might have.
“She did seem really pissed at you,” she finally said with a bit of a giggle.
“She’ll get over it. I’m more concerned about you.”
“Me?” She twisted around to look at him.
“Yeah. You seemed really pissed at me, too.”
“Oh, that,” she said, settling in against him again. “I’m over that.”
“Really?”
“I was thinking if we don’t spend all that money it’d cost me to go to the prom, I thought maybe I could get a really cool CD Walkman, instead?”
“Oh, really?” Tully smiled. Yes, he was quite certain he’d never understand women.
“Don’t have a cow. I have enough of my own money saved.” She wiggled out of his arms and out of his lap. Now she stood in front of him, arms crossed, waiting for his response and looking more like the teenager he remembered. “Can we go pick one out today?”
Was this any way to raise a teenage daughter, teaching her that she would receive some material thing for good behavior? Instead of analyzing it, he simply said, “Sure. Let’s go this afternoon.”
“All right!”
He watched her practically skip back to her room while he got up and wandered over to the coffee table. He found the file folder and slid it out from under one of the piles. He flipped it open and started going through the file: a police report, a copy from a DNA lab, a plastic bag with a pinch of metallic-flecked dirt stapled to an evidence document, a medical release form from Riley’s Veterinary Clinic.
Last night Detective Manx had given him the file marked Rachel Endicott, the missing neighbor O’Dell suspected Stucky had taken. Now, from the looks of the evidence and a recent DNA lab report, even the arrogant, stubborn Manx had been able to figure out that Ms. Endicott may have indeed been kidnapped. After seeing how close to the edge O’Dell was this morning, Tully wondered whether or not he should show her the file. Because according to the lab’s DNA test, Albert Stucky had not only been in Rachel Endicott’s house, but he’d helped himself to a sandwich and several candy bars. And now there was no doubt in Tully’s mind that Stucky had also helped himself to Ms. Endicott.
CHAPTER 62
Maggie drove without a destination, hoping only to burn off the mounting anger. After an hour, she pulled into the busy parking lot of a pancake house, thinking some food might settle her nerves and her stomach. She was at the door of the restaurant, her hand on the door handle when she spun around, almost bumping into two customers before hurrying back to the car. She didn’t dare have breakfast. How could she possibly risk another waitress’s life?
Back on the road, Maggie’s eyes darted all around her, checking the rearview mirror and every car alongside her. She pulled off the interstate, drove several miles down a deserted two-lane highway, then returned to the interstate. Several miles later, she exited at a rest stop, circled around, parked, waited, then headed back onto the interstate.
“Come on, Stucky,” she said to the rearview mirror. “Where the hell are you? Are you out there? Are you following me?”
She used her cellular phone and tried to call Nick, but he must have already left for Boston. Desperate for a distraction, any distraction, she dialed her mother’s phone number. Maybe she could drive down to Richmond. That would certainly take her mind off Stucky. Her mother’s answering machine picked up on the fourth ring.
“I can’t come to the phone right now,” a cheerful voice answered, and Maggie immediately thought she had dialed the wrong number. “Please call back another time, and remember, God watches out for those who can’t watch out for themselves.”
Maggie snapped the phone shut. Oh God, she thought, wishing the voice had not been her mother’s, and that she indeed had the wrong number. However, she recognized the raspy, cigarette-smoking tone despite the false cheerfulness. Then she remembered what Greg had said about her mother being out of town. Of course, she was with Reverend Everett—whoever the hell he was. They were in Las Vegas. Where else would manic-depressed alcoholics go to find God?
She noticed the gas tank getting low so she pulled off the interstate and found an Amoco station. She had the gas cap off when she realized the pumps were not set up for credit cards and a pay-at-the-pumps. She glanced over at the station’s shop. As soon as Maggie saw the female clerk’s blond curls, she replaced the gas cap and got back into the car.
It took two more attempts and about twenty more miles before she found a pay-at-the-pumps station. By now her nerves were rubbed raw. Her head hurt and the nausea had left her feeling hollow and sick to her stomach. There was nowhere she could go. Running away would not solve anything. Nor could she coax Stucky into coming after her. Unless he was already waiting for her. She decided to take her chances and return home.
CHAPTER 63
Tess ran, her ankle throbbing. Her feet ached and were now bleeding despite her attempt to wrap them with what once were the sleeves of her blouse. She had no idea where she was headed. The sky had clouded up again, bulging gray and ready to burst. Twice she had come to a ledge that overlooked water. If only she had learned to swim, she wouldn’t have cared how far away the other side appeared to be. Why couldn’t she escape this eternal prison of trees and vines and steep ridges?
She had spent the morning eating wild strawberries or, at least, that’s what she thought they were. Then she drank from the muddy bank of the river, not caring what algae also slipped into her cupped hands. Her reflection had frightened her at first. The tangled hair, the shredded clothes, the scratches and cuts made her look like a madwoman. But wasn’t that exactly what she had been reduced to? In fact, she couldn’t think of Rachel without feeling something raw and primitive ripping at her insides.
She couldn’t be sure how much time had gone by while she cringed in a corner of the hole. She had cried and rocked, hugging herself with her forehead pressed against the wall of dirt. At times she had felt herself slipping into some other dimension, hearing her aunt shouting down at her from the top of the hole. She could swear she had seen her aunt’s pinched face scowling at her and waving a bony finger, cursing her. She had no clue whether she had spent one night or two or three. Time had lost all meaning.
She did remember what had brought her out of her stupor. She had felt a presence, someone or something rustling above at the ledge of the hole. She had expected to look up and see him like a
raptor, perched and ready to jump down on her. She didn’t care. She wanted it to end. But it wasn’t the madman, or a predator. Instead, it was a deer looking into the hole. A young, beautiful doe curiously staring down at her. And Tess found herself wondering how something so lovely and innocent could exist on this devil’s island.
That’s when she pulled herself together, when she decided once again that she would not die, not here, not in this hellhole. She had covered her temporary companion as best she could with branches from a pine tree, the soft needles like a blanket on the battered, gray skin. And then she crawled out into the open. However, there had been no sense of relief in leaving the earthly tomb that, ironically, had become a sanctuary of sorts. Now after running and walking for miles, she felt farther away from safety than she had felt inside that musty grave.
Suddenly she saw something white up on the ridge and through the trees. She climbed with new energy, pulling herself up with tree roots, ignoring the cuts in her palms that she hadn’t noticed before. Finally on level ground again, she was gasping for air, but she had a better view. Hidden by huge pine trees was a huge white, wooden frame house.
Tess’s pulse quickened. She blinked, hoping the mirage would not disappear. An incredible wave of relief swept over her as she noticed a wisp of smoke coming from the chimney. She could even smell the wood from the fireplace. She heard a wind chime and immediately saw it hanging from the porch. Along the house, daffodils and tulips were in full bloom. She felt like Little Red Riding Hood finding her way through the woods to her grandmother’s warm and inviting house. Then she realized the analogy might prove more real than fantasy. An alarm seemed to go off in her head. The panic raced through her veins. She turned to run and slammed right into him. He gripped both her wrists and smiled down at her, looking exactly like a wolf.