Find Me If You Dare (The Chronicles of Elizabeth Marshall Book 2) (11 page)

                      Chapter Twenty-Eight

Almost everyone on the flight back to Utah were either silent or spoke in low voices. We were a subdued group.

There was no more we could do in Texas. The connection had been made between our suspect and the crime. There was no doubt this was the work of Elizabeth Marshall or at least some of the family members.

She was on the move now, either east or west, they thought, but no one was certain. Director Phillips was still waiting to hear back about the trace on my cell phone. He promised it would be returned to me when they were done. He wanted me to keep this phone number as a link to Lisbeth and her possible whereabouts, but recommended I get another phone number for personal use and to be very careful about who I gave my number to.

We were almost to the Salt Lake Airport when Director Phillips received an in flight call.

He spoke in a quiet voice, asked a few questions, then disconnected the call and opened up his laptop.

“We were lucky
.” He spoke to Logan and me as he started typing on the keyboard. “We were able to get a hit off a cell tower near the US side of Juarez near El Paso, Texas. It seems as though she may be heading for Auburn California.”

“That’s close to the border too,” Logan spoke up, “she could also be trying to cross into Mexico, lay low there for a while.”

“That’s a definite possibility,” Phillips nodded.

“She could also have said ‘Auburn’ to throw us off,” Logan added. “What do you think Caitlyn?”

I paused before answering. I had been doing a lot of thinking since we had boarded the plane. About what Lisbeth and the family had done, about what they were still capable of doing. I kept thinking about motives. She had a definite motive for what she’d done in Texas. It was revenge. She was paying a man back for something terrible he had done to her as a child. That was clear.

What could be next? Who else would she want revenge against?

“I think Auburn was deliberate, just like Park City and Texas. She gives direct clues to places she is heading.” I couldn’t put my finger on it, but some gut instinct was telling me she felt as though she were on some kind of a mission. “It doesn’t seem like her to lay low in Mexico for a while. She seems…I don’t know…driven.” It was hard to put into words what I was feeling where she was concerned. “Of course, I could be wrong. She’s not entirely the person I thought I knew.”

I glanced out the window as the jet dropped down through the cloud cover and we prepared to land at the airport. Who did really know Elizabeth Marshall after all?
She was more of an enigma than I could ever have imagined.

I heard Director Phillips back on the phone, contacting the border patrol in Juarez and at other places along the Mexican border. He also contacted the local police in Auburn California as well as the bureau field office nearby.

Logan seemed to sense my mood. He didn’t push or prod. He just placed one hand on mine on the armrest and silently looked out the window with me. I think we were both nearing exhaustion after everything the last few days.

Whenever I flew into Utah, my favorite part was coming down through the cloud cover and seeing the beautiful mountains from above. They were still covered with a thick blanket of heavy snow from
the dwindling winter. They looked so jagged yet multi-layered from above.

I also enjoyed seeing the aerial view of the Great Sal
t Lake, with the myriad prism of colors from the shifting sand and salt-crusted shores. It was easy to see how low or high the lake was from this view. It was such a unique sight.

The sun would be setting soon and it looked to be another beautiful Utah sunset over the lake with deep reds, oranges and yellows chased by the encroaching dark sky with its deep blues and violets.

The only thing I could think of at this minute was getting to sleep in my own bed tonight. It would feel like such a luxury to be home again. I even missed my little kitten Jynx. I had called my mother and asked her to watch him for a few days. Maybe I could find time to go by and pick him up tomorrow.

The plane taxied to a stop and I was standing up and following Logan to the door and down the stairs, my only thought sleeping in my own bed tonight.

The last thing I was ready to see was Dr. Madeline Reynolds standing at the foot of the stairs, arms crossed, foot tapping. I couldn’t tell if she was pleased to see me or angry for what she may have had to endure with Dr. Ross.

                    Chapter Twenty-Nine

As I walked down the stairs and stepped onto the tarmac I tried to stay close to Logan’s side, hoping that Dr. Madeline Reynolds was here to speak with Director Phillips and that she would just forget I was even here.

I wasn’t that lucky.

“Ms. Stewart,” she called as I walked past. Logan gave me a quick look but I kept on walking beside him. I could hear the click of her heels on the payment behind me as she attempted to catch up with us. “Ms. Stewart, may I call you Caitlyn?”

I took a few more steps and realized she wasn’t going to give up. I stopped and turned around to face the small woman. She almost ran right into me.

“Would you mind if I rode back with you? I’d like to ask you a few questions.” I turned back around and continued walking. She must have taken that as my consent. She seemed to scramble to match my stride. I was a bit above average in height and all legs. It took two of her steps to match one of mine. She had her purse strapped to one shoulder and her laptop case on the other. I didn’t know how she was able to walk under all that weight. “I’ll just leave my rental here at the airport and ride back north with you.”

I just shrugged and followed Logan to the same Escalade we had ridden in the day before. The fatigue of the last few days was really starting to catch up to me. Although the inside of the SUV was roomy, I found myself
wedged in between Logan and the FBI’s Forensic Psychologist while Director Phillips and Special Agent Vance sat up front. Suddenly, I felt claustrophobic.

“Now,” Madeline Reynolds had produced a notebook and pen out of her large purse, “how old were you again when you became friends with Elizabeth Marshall?”

There was just a tiny hint of desperation in her voice. Dr. Ross must not have been easy to deal with. I had thought they would either be able to meet on some sort of professional and intellectual level, or they would clash terribly. They must have clashed.

She was probably too proud to apologize for the way she had dismissed me the day before, or to admit she was wrong not to at least talk to me first.

Somehow though, as she peered over the top of her glasses at me, patiently waiting for my response, not interrupting me, I took a little pity on her.

“I was around twelve, Elizabeth around thirteen,” I spoke quietly. She didn’t hesitate to start jotting down notes. “It was the beginning of my seventh grade year.”

The miles flew by the windows as the sun began to set. I vaguely noticed the warm colors of the sunset as the doctor continued with her questions. I expected them to be clinical, detached, much the same way Dr. Ross’s were when I had to endure a “debriefing” session after one of my visits with Lisbeth at the mental hospital.

Instead, her questions were thoughtful, personal with
out being too intrusive, genuinely curious. Without even realizing it, I started letting down my guard. I started removing just a small bit of that large brick wall I had built around myself where Lisbeth was concerned. The only other time I had felt this comfortable talking about Lisbeth was when I was talking to Logan.

“You really had a strong bond with her, didn’t you?” She asked softly, removing her glasses
for a moment to look directly at me. We had arrived back at the Riverview Police station by now. Phillips and Vance had already exited the vehicle and entered the building. Logan was just outside the vehicle, waiting to walk in with me but giving us privacy.

“Yes, closer than sisters in most ways, closer than I was with my own sister,” I admitted, knowing what that was revealing to the psychologist. “It’s hard to describe it. We just clicked. We ‘got’ each other. We finished each other’s thoughts and sentences. I accepted her unconditionally and she felt the same way. Until she had the breakdown.”

This was her chance to ask me all the sensational details of Lisbeth’s breakdown, her time in the State Mental Hospital, the shock of her diagnosis. But instead, she just looked at me quietly, her expression very human.

“You were probably asked many times why you stayed friends with her after the diagnosis,” she had long since stopped taking notes and was now just having a regular conversation with me. “No one understood why you kept going down to vi
sit her in the mental hospital, why you felt you had to be there for her.”

I nodded. She was right. Over the years, few people understood or had been supportive of my friendship with Lisbeth.
My parents didn’t understand it. My sister was just annoyed by it. Most people that knew of our friendship understood why I had continued to be her friend when I had moved back to Utah after my divorce. It was hard to explain the loyalty I felt for a person who had been accused of murdering her own mother.

It took just a moment to realize that the focus of the conversation had shifted from Lisbeth to me. I smiled at the small woman, somehow fe
eling better for having talked to her.

“You’re very good Dr. Reynolds,” I admitted quietly.

“Call me Maddie.” She winked.

  
                      Chapter Thirty

“Did you say you went to Texas?” My mother asked. I was in her kitchen, standing next to the counter, slicing vegetables for a salad.

It was Sunday dinner with my family and I was trying to make it up to my mom and my sister for missing the planning meeting for the baby shower.
The women were in the kitchen putting the last touches on dinner while my father and brother-in-law enjoyed watching the football playoffs in the family room.

I had invited Logan to come but he had gone into work. There were several local cases he was assigned to that he needed to do some follow up on.

He’d said that the police department was deserted, which was typical for a Sunday morning. Apparently, there were just a few officers and FBI agents there at the taskforce headquarters with Logan. Director Phillips had gone ahead to Auburn, California to meet with agents from the closest Field Office in Sacramento. 

Even Dr. Reynolds, “Maddie”, had chosen to stay at her hotel
for the day so she could carefully go over Lisbeth’s medical file and watch the video-taped sessions of my visits to the mental hospital. She was being very thorough in her research now.

“Caitlyn?” It was my sister’s voice this time, snapping me out of my thoughts and reminding me that my mother had asked a question.

“Yes,” I finally answered, “I was in Texas.”

“I don’t know how you possibly found tickets on that short of notice,”
Meghan carefully lowered herself into a kitchen chair as though she was already nine months pregnant. “And you were only there for a day or two. What could be so important to take you there?”

I didn’t answer immediately. It was still difficult to know how much to tell my family.
Meghan especially had never understood my friendship with Lisbeth. And I didn’t want to frighten any of them by letting them know that I was basically trying to help the FBI track down a serial killer. Even if that serial killer was once my best friend.

“That’s strange,” my mother began drying her hands on a dishtowel, “this odd postcard came in t
he mail for you yesterday. If I remember right, I think it was from Texas. Now where did I put it?”

I came within a fraction of an inch from slicing off my finger. Slowly and deliberately, I set the sharp kitchen knife on the countertop and braced myself.

“I thought it seemed odd.” My mother was still talking to herself as she walked into their office area. “It had to have been mailed before you even got there.”

I could hear her riffling through envelopes and papers. Part of me wanted to
go and help her find the postcard, but another part of me was locked in place, as though my feet were frozen to the floor.

“I didn’t think you even knew anyone in Texas,”
Meghan sounded hurt, as though we were missing out on something important.

“Now, where did I put that?” My mother was starting to be a bit forgetful
these days. I was starting to worry about her.

“Do you need some help?” I called, wondering if I could force myself to move.

“Oh, here it is,” she came back into the kitchen. In her hands was a small postcard. I could only see one side at first. It was a picture of the Texas state flag; red, white and blue with a white star in the blue field. She held it out for me, a mildly curious look on her face.

I tried to keep my hands from shaking as I took it from her. I felt as though I was reaching out to touch a highly venomous snake.
Slowly, I turned it over.

“
Cate,

“
Killing time in Killeen Texas.

“
Wish you were here.

“
Say hello to your parents for me.”

“Do we know anyone in Killeen Texas?” My mother asked innocently.

Meghan snatched the postcard out of my hands.

“Who’s Sophie?” She demanded.

                   Chapter Thirty-One

Taskforce headquarters had changed just slightly. There was now added information from the homicide in Killeen Texas. Also, the large map of the US now had a red line that stretched from Colorado, southeast to Killeen, then back west to Juarez on the US/Mexican border. It stopped there, as though strangely waiting for guidance on where to continue to next.

I stood there on that Monday morning, looking at the growing information on the case. All of this focus and attention, all these man hours, because of one single person. Well, not one person, really. One body, many personalities. Sometimes, it made your head spin that think about this from all the different angles.

“May I see the postcard?” Dr. Reynolds stood next to me looking at the dry erase boards and maps. The petite woman didn’t even reach my shoulder, even in her heels.

Silently, I handed her my photocopy of the postcard. The original had been bagged and tagged and was now being processed at the county forensics lab. Logan had said they didn’t expect to get much off of it like DNA or fingerprints because it had gone through the postal service and had been handled by countless people, including my parents and myself, but they were going to check just in case.

Madeline looked it over thoughtfully for a moment before she spoke.

“You had a different reaction to Sophie
during your sessions at the state mental hospital.” It was more a statement than a question. She was very observant. I didn’t think even Dr. Ross had picked up on that.

I nodded in reply.

“She’s taunting you. That’s what this postcard is about.” She adjusted her glasses and looked up at me. “Why?”

It was a simple but loaded question. I took a deep breath and thought of how best to explain it. I looked down at Sophie’s signature at the bottom on the postcard. Even her handwriting was similar to Lisbeth’s.

“All of the other family members are very distinct and different from Lisbeth, my friend, the young girl I grew up with and bonded with. They have different features, different personalities, different handwriting. I knew almost all of them and it was usually easy to tell them all apart. Each one of them were a small piece of Lisbeth, but still so individual. Sophie…well…”

My voice trailed off as I thought of that day I had visited Lisbeth
and had met Sophie for the first time. I had thought I was talking to Lisbeth. There had been absolutely no change in her voice or features, no change at all. That was the most startling thing about her; she was capable of mimicking Lisbeth exactly.

“Sophie likes playing mind games, and she’s good at it,” I continued. “She’s so good at pretending to be Lisbeth, at
being
Lisbeth, that even I can’t tell them apart sometimes. It’s just a hunch, but I almost feel sometimes as though she’s jealous of my friendship with Lisbeth. Whether that’s true or not, in some ways she’s more dangerous than any of the other family members. She’s sinister, spiteful and worst of all she claims to be the one that controls all the others.”

“And Dr. Ross thought he had her integrated as well as all the others after just a few short weeks on an experimental medication,”
Dr. Reynolds shook her head in amazement. “He was more concerned with the financial kick-back he was getting from the pharmaceutical companies than he was with his patient’s welfare.”

It seemed as though her meeting with Dr. Ross had been very enlightening.
Her expression didn’t hide how she felt about her colleague. I didn’t think she would be making a trip back to Provo to see him any time soon.

“So,” she took a breath and turned back to the wall of information we had been looking at earlier, “now we have this.”

She put the photocopy of the postcard up next to the other information about the incident in Texas.

“You know, Caitlyn,” she put her hands in the pockets of her blazer, “my specialty is criminal profiling. Usually, we have an unknown suspect
. I look at the crimes and how they were committed and then try to determine who the suspect is and what they will do next. This case is different. Here, we know who the suspect is.  We even have an extensive background and medical history on her. Unfortunately, due to her psychiatric diagnosis, there are countless possibilities of what she could do next. I’m afraid, in this instance, you may be able to profile her and this case better than I could.”

I knew it was a big admission coming from her. I sensed from the first time I met her that she was a woman in control, a woman with confidence in her diagnosis and direction. She didn’t admit this lightly.

“So, Caitlyn,” she looked directly at me, “what is she going to do next?”