Cold Truth (27 page)

T
wenty-eight

“What are we looking for?” Cass asked the chief, who’d called her back to Wainwright’s rented house.

“We’re looking for anyplace he might have stashed his souvenirs.”

“Do we know for certain he kept them?”

“We know none of our victims’ wallets have ever been found. I spoke with the profiler, Dr. McCall, late this afternoon. She feels very strongly that he would keep them all in one place, and he’d keep them close to him. We found the car he’s been driving, and we have some techs going over it, but nothing so far. The house is our second choice.”

“If it’s here, we’ll find it.”

“Give me a call when you do. I’m heading over to Lilly Carson’s. I need to assure her mother we’re doing all we can to find her daughter. Then we’re gearing up for a press conference just in time for the eleven o’clock news. I’m releasing the name, the sketch, everything we have on him. I want him to know for certain that we’re breathing down his neck. I want this bastard.”

She frowned. “What do you think the chances are he’s left town?”

“It’s possible, but somehow, I’m thinking he hasn’t. We found his car twenty minutes ago, there’s no train service through town, and the bus only runs three times each day.”

“He easily could have stolen a car, or even a boat.”

“Yes, he could have. No reports of that yet, but then again, he could take a car from any street. Most of the summer people park their cars when they get here, then walk to the beach or to town. It might take a while to notice if your car isn’t where you left it. As for boats, we always have one or two of those missing. We have two now, as a matter of fact. I have an officer looking into that.”

“Chief,” one of the uniforms called from the doorway. “I think we have something.”

Cass followed Chief Denver into the house and up the steps to the second floor. A portion of the wall behind the bed had been pried free, and a large trunk had been dragged into the middle of the floor.

“Open it,” Denver instructed.

“Want me to shoot it open?” an officer from Tilden asked.

“No, I don’t want you to shoot it, you might destroy evidence. Try something else.”

“I got a tire iron in the trunk of my car,” someone offered. “Maybe we can pry it open.”

“Give it a try, and if it doesn’t open, take it back to the department and see what tools we have that might get that lock off.” Chief Denver looked at his watch. “I have to get over to the Carsons’. I’m already late.”

Cass stepped out of the room and pressed against the wall as the chief passed by on his way to the steps.

“If nothing else, maybe we’ll be able to give someone closure,” she said to Rick, who stood across from her on the narrow second-floor landing. “Think of what might be in there. For parents, or husbands, or siblings of women who disappeared over the years; maybe we’ll finally be able to at least let them know they can stop wondering.”

“Let’s not get our hopes up. For all we know, the trunk holds his old baseball cards and a few
Mad
magazines.”

Her cell phone rang and she looked at the incoming number.

“Khaliyah, hi,” she said. “What? I can’t hear you. The reception is poor here. Hold on . . . let me try downstairs . . .”

She ran down the steps.

“Is that better?” She paused, but still could not understand what was being said. “Let me go outside . . .”

She went through the front door and onto the lawn, where thin patches of grass stubbornly grew in the sand.

“Much better,” the voice on the phone told her. It was not Khaliyah’s. “Now, step out a little more. There, that’s good. I want to see you.”

“Who is this?”

“Oh, Detective Burke, I think you can figure it out.”

“Where are you?”

“Closer than you think. Now, listen carefully. I have Lilly Carson. She’s alive, but whether she stays that way, well, now, that’s going to depend on you.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to turn and walk to the end of the driveway . . . right now. Don’t look at anyone, don’t give a sign to anyone. I can see you. One wrong move, and I’m out of here. And Lilly Carson will die.”

She did as she was told.

“There, that’s a good girl. Now walk down the street to your right, all the way down to the very end. Good, good. See the red sedan on the opposite side? Wave to the driver, Cass.”

She did. He waved back.

“Now, I want you to cross the street. Stay in the shadows there, we don’t want anyone to see you. Now walk straight to the passenger’s side.”

He leaned over and opened the door.

“First thing, take the gun from your waistband and drop it right there on the ground,” he demanded. “Then you can toss out that little number you have strapped to your ankle.”

“How do you know I have—” she started, and he laughed.

“Because all you chick cops think it’s cool to strap a little handgun to your leg.”

He chuckled as she pulled her jeans up to her knee and exposed the gun.

“You’re all so predictable.” He shook his head. “Take it off and drop it.”

“Someone will find it.”

“Well, hopefully it won’t be some little kid, right?” He gestured for her to get into the car. “Of course, if that little kid should turn out to be one of my nephews, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.”

She got onto the passenger seat.

“Close the door.”

She did.

“Now, I’m going to remind you that a young woman’s life is at stake here, so don’t try to grab the wheel or yell out the window or do anything stupid . . . which reminds me, put the cell phone right there in one of the cup holders, where I can see it.”

She popped the phone into the nearest cup holder and he immediately picked it up and tossed it out the window.

“Any other weapons I need to know about?”

“No. Just the two.”

“That’s what I figured. I’ve never known a woman who packed more than two.” He smiled with self-satisfaction.

The twenty-two felt as if it had begun to glow in the small of her back. She was so conscious of it, for a moment she thought surely he could see it.

“Where’s Lilly?” she asked, her heart pounding with anticipation. She was on an adrenaline high, to be this close to him, to the man who had destroyed her life.

“Lilly’s waiting for us.”

“Where are we going?”

“I want it to be a surprise.”

He drove along the bay for several minutes before pulling over to the side of the road.

“Get out,” he told her, and she did.

“Now we’re going to take a little walk, Detective Burke.” He took her arm and steered her into the marsh. “Again, I remind you that a young woman’s life is at stake, so don’t think to try to overpower me with some cheesy martial arts move. You do know martial arts, don’t you, Cass?”

She nodded.

“I figured you would. Trust me when I tell you, you could never best me.”

Something hard and round butted her in the middle of her back.

“Just a little insurance,” he said, “in case you decide your life is more important than poor Lilly’s. Though I doubt you would. You’re the type who would want to be a hero, aren’t you, Cassandra? Idealistic to a fault, right?”

The ground was becoming softer, wetter, as they continued into the marsh. Soon Cass could feel the ooze beneath the marsh grass sucking at her shoes with each step she took. They were almost to the bay now—she could smell it, salty and pungent. Where the hell was he taking her?

He pushed her forward lightly and her feet slid into water. They walked along the edge of the inlet for another minute before she saw the outline of a small boat tied up to the bulkhead of a long-forgotten dock.

“On board.” He shoved her from behind. “Here. Sit right here . . . no, turn around. I want you facing the other way.”

Again, she did as she was told, praying his hands wouldn’t graze her lower back. Sitting as she was, he was within a foot of the handgun hidden there. With her back to him, she felt certain he could see the small bulge of the gun.

Thank God it’s so dark,
she thought.
Maybe he’ll miss it completely.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking,” he said in her ear.

“What am I thinking?” she asked calmly.

“You’re thinking maybe you can jump over the side and swim for help.”

“Actually, I was wondering what corner of hell the devil is saving for you.”

He chuckled. “All of them, my dear. All of them.”

He rowed on, her anxiety increasing as the minutes passed. Had anyone realized she was missing yet? Surely Rick had. Surely he was looking for her right now.

The oars splashed lightly as the boat made its way along the edge of the marsh. There was a time when she had known every nook and cranny of the marsh, every little tidal pool and inlet. But it had been years since she’d taken time to explore the back bay, and she was now totally disoriented. When he headed toward shore and jumped out to pull the boat to land, she had no idea where they were.

“Out,” he told her.

She stepped out of the boat and made her way through the soft sand to the firmer shore, where the grasses grew eight feet tall and thick as a hedge. He guided her to a place where the cattails had been tamped down slightly into a path.

“Walk.” He nudged her forward, the gun in his hand once again.

“Where are we?” she asked. “Where are you taking me?”

“Why, Cassandra Burke, I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out,” he replied, a touch of glee in his voice. “I’m taking you home.”

T
wenty-nine

“How could she have just disappeared like that?” Rick ran a worried hand through his hair. “She’s vanished.”

“That’s ridiculous. Are you certain she isn’t in the house?” Chief Denver pressed. “Did you think to look in the backyard?”

“We’ve been through every room of the house, Chief. I’m telling you, she isn’t here, and no one saw her leave. She got a phone call from Khaliyah . . .”

“Khaliyah Graves?”

“I don’t know the girl’s last name, the girl she plays basketball with.”

“What did she want?”

“I don’t know. Cass said the reception was bad, and she was going to take the call outside. That’s the last I saw of her.”

“Khaliyah lives over on Westbrook, but I don’t know the house number. Hold on, Rick, let me see if I can contact the department, see if we can get the girl’s number.”

Rick paced the sidewalk outside Jon Wainwright’s house, his phone close to his ear. How could it be that Cass had disappeared seemingly into thin air?

Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. He knew that she hadn’t just vanished. He knew, too, that she wouldn’t just walk off the scene, without at the very least telling him what she was doing. He shook his head. She’d do more than tell him. She’d take him with her.

She’d have to. She didn’t have a car.

“We got through to the girl. She says she didn’t call Cass. Says she can’t find her phone, she thinks someone took it from her gym bag while she was playing basketball.”

“I guess we know who that someone was, don’t we.” There could be only one explanation, and the very thought of it turned Rick cold inside.

Wainwright had her.

Rick didn’t know how he’d done it, but he was one hundred percent certain he had.

“Get the men who are still there to start canvassing the neighborhood. See if anyone saw her. I’ll see how quickly I can get out of the Carsons’. With Lilly still missing, I can’t do a quick hello good-bye. In the meantime, you keep in touch, you hear?”

“Will do.”

Rick closed the phone with a snap, then went into the house to call together the officers on the scene. He told them what had happened, what he and Chief Denver suspected, and what the chief had directed them to do. There was a mass exit out the front door, as the officers took to the streets in search of a sign of Cass or someone who might have seen her.

Within minutes, someone called from across the street.

“Here. I’ve found something.”

“What have you got?” Rick rushed to him, and looked down. Two handguns lay on the ground in the haze of an officer’s flashlight.

They stood silently, staring at the ground. Finally, the officer said, “How’d he get her to do that? Cass would never give up her guns, leave ’em lying on the ground like that.”

Rick knelt down to inspect the guns. He picked up the ankle holster he knew she had strapped on only hours before.

But there’d been three guns, he knew. If two were left here, she still had a weapon. Assuming, of course, that Wainwright hadn’t found it and turned it on her. He hoped that wasn’t the case.

Rick punched in a number on his cell, and waited while it rang.

“Annie, it’s Rick Cisco. We have a problem here in Bowers Inlet . . .”

He filled her in, listened, then thanked her. He disconnected, and immediately dialed the chief’s number.

“We found two of her guns, but not her,” Rick told him as he strode to his car. “Annie thinks he took her to where it all began. I’m thinking the bird sanctuary. I’m headed there now.”

“I’ll send a few cars out to meet you,” Denver said before Rick hung up.

The street was too narrow to make a U-turn, so Rick threw the car in reverse and drove backward to Bay Avenue, where he took a left. Wishing he had lights and sirens so everyone would get out of his way, Rick followed the route he remembered to the sanctuary.

What was Wainwright’s plan? Were his hands, even now, around her neck, strangling the life from her? Rick’s heart skipped a beat, imagining Cass fighting for her life.

“Fight the bastard,” he said aloud. “Fight him with everything you’ve got. Just hold on . . .”

Rick stopped the car at the entrance to the sanctuary, got out, and moved the gate aside. He drove straight through, his tires kicking up sand and small stones as he sped down the road to the Jenny Burke Memorial. After the second turn, he slowed, his high beams glancing off the rails on the side of the road at the left. Finally, he saw it, and pulled over. His Glock in one hand, a flashlight in the other, he closed the car door softly.

Rick stood by the side of the road and strained his ears to listen. He heard . . . nothing.

Finally, there was a rustle overhead, followed by the
whooooooooo whooooooooo
of an owl. The winged predator took off from its perch and disappeared into the night, leaving Rick with his mounting fears.

He found the path that led to the blind and followed it. When he arrived at the structure, he stood in the shadows and watched, and listened. Nothing. No movement, no sound.

He climbed the ladder silently, the Glock still in his right hand, but when he reached the top and looked over, he realized he’d been wrong. The blind was empty. He shined the light around the interior, but there was nothing.

“Where the hell are you?” Frustrated, he banged a hand on the floor of the blind before heading back down.

Cass stiffened when Jonathan pushed her through the cattails and the weathered brown house appeared in the moonlight.

“See?” Wainwright whispered in her ear. “Just like I told you. I brought you home.”

“Is she here?” Cass asked, her mouth dry.

“You’ll be able to answer that yourself in a moment.” He forced her to the top of the concrete basement steps, and she hesitated.

“Don’t be a child,” he told her, shoving her down the steps and through the basement to the stairs that led to the first floor. “Nothing to fear down here.”

“Where’s Lilly?” Cass asked as she was pushed through the door and into the living room of her childhood. Miraculously, everything was just as it had been twenty-six years earlier. The dark green sofa had, long ago, faded pale from the sun that beat in through the front windows. A magazine from 1979 lay on the floor next to a chair. After the murders, Cass’s grandparents had come into the house one time, and then only to get the things that Cass needed. Clothes, favorite toys, important papers. They had then simply locked the house when the police were through. Incredibly, to the best of Cass’s knowledge, no one had been inside since. Except for the thick layer of dust that covered everything, and the cobwebs that hung from the ceilings, all was as it had been.

“Lilly is upstairs.”

“I want to see her.”

“Patience, Cass.”

“Uh-uh. I want to see her now.”

“As you wish, then.” He gestured with the gun. “Up you go. And don’t forget who has the gun.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten.”

She climbed the steps slowly, the child within her screaming silently with every step. Her hands shook and her knees threatened to simply give out. It took all of her willpower to force herself to continue forward. She could not be a coward. She could not fail Lilly.

There’d been no chance to save her mother. She hadn’t gotten to her sister in time.

This time, she was not a child. This time, she was not helpless.

This time he would not win.

She stood on the top step and took a deep breath.

“Where?”

“Why, in Mommy and Daddy’s room, of course. Honestly, Cass, you should know the game by now.”

“Is that what this is to you? A game?” She started to turn to face him but he jabbed her in the back.

“Figure of speech,” he hissed in her ear. “Now, go on, go on into Mommy’s room and see what we have waiting for us.”

She stepped in through the darkened doorway. In the light from the moon overhead, she could see a figure lying on the floor. Wainwright jabbed it with the toe of his foot, and the figure moaned.

“You said you’d let her go,” Cass reminded him. “Do it now.”

“No, that’s not exactly what I said. I said I wouldn’t kill her. And I won’t. I’m a man of my word.”

She turned slowly and saw the smirk on his face.

“But you’re not going to let her go, are you?”

“No. No, I’m not going to let her go. Sooner or later, someone will find her. Maybe she’ll still be alive.” He shrugged. “Maybe not.”

“Why?”

“Oh, please. I’ve seen all the same TV shows. Keep the bad guy talking until the guys in the white hats arrive. You think your Fed boyfriend is going to figure out where you are?” He snorted. “The guy doesn’t look that smart. And we both know
Denver’s
not that smart. Obviously. Did he tell you we sat at the bar in Gabby’s Place two weeks ago and bought each other drinks?”

He laughed. “I proved twenty-six years ago that I’m smarter than old Craig. I’m still smarter. Smarter than him, smarter than my old man. I do have to brag, though—it was a kick, watching the old man scramble around back then, acting like he was on to a lead here, a lead there. He didn’t have a clue. Not a fucking clue.” He laughed again. “You should have seen him when he got those letters I sent. All agitated. He knew the killer was smarter than he’d ever be. Well, I proved that, didn’t I? The man went to his grave years ago, still didn’t have a clue.”

“Why my mother?”

“Why not your mother?” He spun her against the wall in a rush, the gun now in her face. “Don’t you know what she was?”

“No, Jon. Why don’t you tell me?” she whispered.

“She was Jezebel, right out of the Bible.” His voice dropped. “She was the most beautiful woman in the world. She was . . . everything.”

“She was a married woman with children.”

“She would have walked away from all of you, to be with me.”

“Did she tell you that, Jon?”

“Every time she looked at me, I knew.”

“So you killed her? You killed the woman who loved you? That makes no sense.”

“I didn’t plan on . . . that wasn’t supposed to . . .” He appeared suddenly confused. She used the moment to swing the door into his body, hoping to slam his gun hand into the jamb.

She missed.

“Bitch!” he screamed at her, and twisted her arm behind her back.

Her hand struggled to get the small handgun from the small of her back. It caught in the waistband of her jeans and she cursed loudly as he tried to pin her against the wall. His gun was in her face, his finger on the trigger.

From somewhere outside, a car door slammed.

His eyes darted to the front of the house; the brief hesitation was all she needed. She wrenched her hand free and jammed the gun into his chest. And fired. Once, and the gun dropped from his hand. Twice, and he slumped against her. Three times, and his body began to fall.

The door crashed open on the floor below, and she pushed Jonathan Wainwright to the floor.

“Cassie?”

“Rick? I’m here. I’m here . . .” Her voice caught in her throat. “I’m here . . .”

He took the steps two at a time, slowing only when he reached the top.

“Wainwright . . . ?”

She pointed to the floor.

“Are you all right?” He went to her, put his arms around her.

“I am now.” She wanted him to hold on, hold on and on and make this nightmare go away. But . . . “Lilly Carson is over there. She’s alive, but I don’t know for how much longer. I don’t know what he’s done to her.”

They moved farther into the bedroom and he snapped on the light. Lilly lay on her side, her dark hair spilled across the carpet. Cass’s knees went weak.

“Lilly.” Rick knelt down next to her. “Lilly, can you hear me?”

Slowly the woman opened her eyes and blinked against the light.

“We’re going to get help,” he promised. He reached for his phone just as cars pulled up outside. He looked at Cass. “Go tell them she’s here. Tell them to get an ambulance ASAP.”

Cass nodded, and willed her legs to move to the stairs.

“Up here,” she called down with a shaky voice. “She’s up here . . .”

Cass sat on the bottom step and watched the activity around her. Once again, the home she had shared with her family had turned into a crime scene.

Tasha Welsh arrived, as did the medical examiner. Both stopped to squeeze her shoulder and offer congratulations on their way up the steps. Cass couldn’t bring herself to go up with them, not right then. She still didn’t trust her legs to take her anywhere.

“How did you know?” Cass asked Rick when he sat down next to her and took her hand. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Annie said he’d take you back to where it all began. At first, I thought that meant the sanctuary, where he met your mother. When I got there and realized he hadn’t been there tonight, there was only one other place he could have taken you. This is where the killing began. I’m only sorry I didn’t catch on sooner.”

She sat as if still in shock.

“Not that you needed my help,” he told her. “You did just fine without me.”

“I’ve never killed anyone before,” she said simply. “I’m glad it was him.”

“I didn’t hear you say that.” Chief Denver approached the steps. “I need you to hand over your gun, Cass.”

She handed it to him without comment.

“You know the county will investigate, as they do every time an officer is involved in a shooting.”

She nodded.

“The shooting was totally justified,” Rick interjected. “He had a gun on her. He was going to kill her.”

“No doubt in my mind about that. No one’s questioning the justification, Agent Cisco. It’s just a formality.”

Denver knelt before Cass and studied her face. “Cassie, are you sure you’re all right?”

“I can’t believe it’s over. It’s over. He’s really dead?”

“He’s really dead,” he assured her.

“All of my life, I was haunted by what happened here.” She looked around the living room at furnishings that were at once both strange and familiar. “I thought about coming home that day, about him being here. I thought about stopping him in time.”

“Well, this time you did that.” Denver patted her knee and stood up. He went past them to the steps to the second floor.