Split Second (55 page)

A
s the sun moved overhead and more light seeped down, Tess could see the hellhole for what it was. The skull that stared out from the earth wall was not the only human remains that surrounded them. Other bones glistened, washed white by the rains, protruding at odd angles from the uneven walls and the muddy floor.

At first Tess told herself it was some ancient burial ground, maybe a mass grave from a Civil War battle. Then she found a black underwire bra and a woman’s leather pump with a broken heel sticking out of the ground. Neither looked old enough or deteriorated enough to have been there much longer than weeks, maybe months.

Dirt had been recently thrown into one of the corners. The mound looked fresh despite the rain packing it down. She stared at it, but didn’t dare go near it, staying away as if the pile would crumble and reveal some new horror. If that was at all possible.

The rays of sunshine felt wonderful, though they wouldn’t last long. She managed to gently drag the woman to the center, so she could be warmed directly. Even the wool blanket had begun to dry. Tess stretched it out across some rocks, leaving the woman naked but bathed in sunlight.

Tess was getting used to the rancid smell of the woman. She could stay close without the urge to vomit. The woman had defecated in her corner several times and had accidentally rolled in it. Tess wished she had some water to clean her. The thought reminded her how dry and raw her mouth and throat were. Surely the woman was already in a state of dehydration. Her convulsions had calmed to a mild shiver and her teeth had stopped chattering. Even her breathing seemed to return to normal. Now with the sunlight on her skin, Tess noticed she had closed her eyes, as though finally able to rest. Or had she finally decided to die?

Tess sat on a broken branch and examined the pit again. She knew she could climb out. She had tried twice, reaching the top both times. Each time she peered over the edge, the relief and satisfaction overwhelming her to tears. But each time, she lowered herself back down, carefully easing the pressure on her swollen ankle.

Though she didn’t want to think about the madman, she realized there could be safety in this pit. He must have dumped the woman here, expecting her to die from her wounds and exposure. Eventually, he would return to throw some dirt over her and create yet another mound. When he discovered Tess was gone from the shack, he might not think to look for her down here.

That didn’t mean she wanted to stay. She hated feeling trapped. And this hellhole reminded her too much of the dark storm cellar her aunt and uncle had used as punishment for her. As a child, being buried beneath the ground for an hour was terrifying. One or two days, unimaginable. Even as an adult, she could never remember what she had done to deserve such punishment. Instead, she had readily believed her aunt when she called her an evil child and dragged her down to the damp torture chamber. Each time, Tess had screamed how sorry she was and pleaded for forgiveness.

“No apologies accepted,” her uncle would always say, laughing.

In the dark, Tess would pray over and over for her mother to come and rescue her, remembering her mother’s last words, “I’ll be right back, Tessy.” But she never came back to rescue Tess. She never returned at all. How could her mother leave her with such evil people?

As Tess grew older and stronger, her aunt was no longer a match for her. That’s when her uncle took over. Only, her uncle’s form of punishment came late at night when he let himself into her bedroom. When she tried to lock him out, he removed the door to her room. At first she screamed, knowing her aunt could now hear without the door to muffle the sounds. It didn’t take long for her to realize that her aunt had always heard, had always known. She just didn’t care.

Tess ran away to D.C. when she was fifteen. Quickly, she had learned that she could make quite a bit of money doing what her uncle had taught her for free. Fifteen years old, and she was fucking congressmen and four-star generals. That was almost twenty years ago, and yet she had only recently found her escape from that life. She had finally begun a life that was her own. And she sure as hell would not end it here. Not now. Not in this remote grave where no one would ever notice.

She got to her feet and approached the woman. She squatted next to her and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I don’t know if you can hear me. My name is Tess. I want you to know I’m going to get us out of here. I’m not going to leave you here to die.”

Tess pulled a branch closer so she could sit next to the woman in the sunlight. She needed to rest her ankle. She buried her toes into the mud. Despite the slimy earthworms against her skin, the mud did soothe the cracks and cuts and bruises on her feet.

She surveyed the jutting rocks and tree roots, trying to come up with a plan. Just when she began to think it would be impossible, the woman moved slightly to her side. Without opening her eyes, she said, “My name’s Rachel.”

A
s the sun moved overhead and more light seeped down, Tess could see the hellhole for what it was. The skull that stared out from the earth wall was not the only human remains that surrounded them. Other bones glistened, washed white by the rains, protruding at odd angles from the uneven walls and the muddy floor.

At first Tess told herself it was some ancient burial ground, maybe a mass grave from a Civil War battle. Then she found a black underwire bra and a woman’s leather pump with a broken heel sticking out of the ground. Neither looked old enough or deteriorated enough to have been there much longer than weeks, maybe months.

Dirt had been recently thrown into one of the corners. The mound looked fresh despite the rain packing it down. She stared at it, but didn’t dare go near it, staying away as if the pile would crumble and reveal some new horror. If that was at all possible.

The rays of sunshine felt wonderful, though they wouldn’t last long. She managed to gently drag the woman to the center, so she could be warmed directly. Even the wool blanket had begun to dry. Tess stretched it out across some rocks, leaving the woman naked but bathed in sunlight.

Tess was getting used to the rancid smell of the woman. She could stay close without the urge to vomit. The woman had defecated in her corner several times and had accidentally rolled in it. Tess wished she had some water to clean her. The thought reminded her how dry and raw her mouth and throat were. Surely the woman was already in a state of dehydration. Her convulsions had calmed to a mild shiver and her teeth had stopped chattering. Even her breathing seemed to return to normal. Now with the sunlight on her skin, Tess noticed she had closed her eyes, as though finally able to rest. Or had she finally decided to die?

Tess sat on a broken branch and examined the pit again. She knew she could climb out. She had tried twice, reaching the top both times. Each time she peered over the edge, the relief and satisfaction overwhelming her to tears. But each time, she lowered herself back down, carefully easing the pressure on her swollen ankle.

Though she didn’t want to think about the madman, she realized there could be safety in this pit. He must have dumped the woman here, expecting her to die from her wounds and exposure. Eventually, he would return to throw some dirt over her and create yet another mound. When he discovered Tess was gone from the shack, he might not think to look for her down here.

That didn’t mean she wanted to stay. She hated feeling trapped. And this hellhole reminded her too much of the dark storm cellar her aunt and uncle had used as punishment for her. As a child, being buried beneath the ground for an hour was terrifying. One or two days, unimaginable. Even as an adult, she could never remember what she had done to deserve such punishment. Instead, she had readily believed her aunt when she called her an evil child and dragged her down to the damp torture chamber. Each time, Tess had screamed how sorry she was and pleaded for forgiveness.

“No apologies accepted,” her uncle would always say, laughing.

In the dark, Tess would pray over and over for her mother to come and rescue her, remembering her mother’s last words, “I’ll be right back, Tessy.” But she never came back to rescue Tess. She never returned at all. How could her mother leave her with such evil people?

As Tess grew older and stronger, her aunt was no longer a match for her. That’s when her uncle took over. Only, her uncle’s form of punishment came late at night when he let himself into her bedroom. When she tried to lock him out, he removed the door to her room. At first she screamed, knowing her aunt could now hear without the door to muffle the sounds. It didn’t take long for her to realize that her aunt had always heard, had always known. She just didn’t care.

Tess ran away to D.C. when she was fifteen. Quickly, she had learned that she could make quite a bit of money doing what her uncle had taught her for free. Fifteen years old, and she was fucking congressmen and four-star generals. That was almost twenty years ago, and yet she had only recently found her escape from that life. She had finally begun a life that was her own. And she sure as hell would not end it here. Not now. Not in this remote grave where no one would ever notice.

She got to her feet and approached the woman. She squatted next to her and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I don’t know if you can hear me. My name is Tess. I want you to know I’m going to get us out of here. I’m not going to leave you here to die.”

Tess pulled a branch closer so she could sit next to the woman in the sunlight. She needed to rest her ankle. She buried her toes into the mud. Despite the slimy earthworms against her skin, the mud did soothe the cracks and cuts and bruises on her feet.

She surveyed the jutting rocks and tree roots, trying to come up with a plan. Just when she began to think it would be impossible, the woman moved slightly to her side. Without opening her eyes, she said, “My name’s Rachel.”

M
aggie wasn’t sure what she expected. Could Albert Stucky or Walker Harding be stupid enough to get caught by the Newburgh Heights Police Department? Yet, when Manx showed her into the interrogation room, her heart sank. The handsome young man looked more like a college student than the hardened criminal Manx had described when he had insisted the man was guilty of something.

The kid even stood up when she entered the room, not able to stifle his good manners despite the situation.

“There’s been a huge misunderstanding,” he told her as if she was the new face of reason.

He wore khakis and a crew-neck sweater. Maybe this was what Manx expected burglars to wear in Newburgh Heights.

“Sit the hell down, kid,” Manx snapped at him as though he was jumping up to attack her.

Maggie walked around Manx and sat down at the table opposite the young man. He slid back into his chair, wringing his hands in front of him on the table, his eyes darting from Manx to the other two uniformed officers already in the room.

“I’m Special Agent Margaret O’Dell with the FBI.” She waited for his eyes to settle on hers.

“FBI?” He looked worried and fidgeted in his chair. “Something’s happened to Tess, hasn’t it?”

“I know you may have already explained all this, but how do you know Ms. McGowan, Mr.—”

“Finley. My name’s Will Finley. I met Tess last weekend.”

“Last weekend? So you haven’t been friends for very long. Did she show you a piece of real estate?”

“Excuse me?”

“Ms. McGowan is a real estate agent. Did she show you a house last weekend?”

“No. We met at a bar. We…we spent the night together.”

Maggie wondered if it was a lie. Tess McGowan hadn’t looked like the barfly type. Plus, she guessed Tess to be close to her own age. She couldn’t imagine Tess giving this college kid a second glance. Unless she had been trying to get back at her big-shot, country-club boyfriend. Of course, she also couldn’t imagine Tess McGowan with the guy who Agent Tully called an arrogant asshole. But then she realized she really hadn’t taken time to get to know anything about Tess McGowan. Nevertheless, she was certain Will Finley had nothing to do with Tess’s disappearance. Now she was glad she hadn’t dragged Tully away from lunch with his daughter for this.

“What’s happened to Tess?” Will Finley wanted to know. He looked genuinely concerned.

“Maybe you ought to be tellin’ us,” Manx said from behind Maggie.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I didn’t do anything to her. I haven’t seen her since Monday morning. She hasn’t returned any of my phone calls. I was worried about her.” He scraped a shaking hand over his face.

Maggie wondered how long they had kept him here. He looked exhausted, his nerves frayed. She knew after enough hours of the same questions, in the same room, sitting in the same position, that the most innocent of men could break down.

“Will.” She waited again for his eyes. “We’re not sure what happened to Tess, but she is missing. I’m hoping you might be able to help us find her.”

He stared at her as though he wasn’t sure whether to believe her or if this was a trick.

“Is there anything you can remember?” she continued, keeping her voice calm and steady, unlike Manx’s. “Anything you might be able to tell us that could help us find her?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, I really don’t know her very well.”

“Well enough to fuck her, though, right?” Manx said, insisting on playing out his role as the bad cop.

Maggie ignored him, though Will Finley stared at him and fidg-eted with the appropriate amount of guilt. Manx was right about the kid hiding something. It was the illicitness of the affair, not that he had hurt Tess.

“Where did you spend the night together?”

“Look, I know my rights, and I know I don’t have to answer these questions.” He sounded defensive now. Maggie didn’t blame him, especially since Manx treated him like a suspect.

“No, you don’t need to answer any of my questions. I just thought you might want to help us find her.” Maggie gently tried to persuade him.

“I don’t see how knowing where or when or how or what we did that night is going to help.”

“Hey, kid, you banged an older woman. You should be jumping at the chance to share the details.”

Maggie stood and faced Manx, trying to maintain her calm and bridle her impatience.

“Detective Manx, do you mind if I have a word with Mr. Finley alone?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“And why is that?”

“Well…” Manx hesitated while he manufactured a reason. She could practically hear his rusty gears grinding. “Might not be safe to leave you alone with him.”

“I’m an experienced FBI agent, Detective Manx.”

“You sure don’t dress like one, Agent O’Dell,” he said as he purposely let his eyes slide slowly over her body.

“Tell you what. I’ll take my chances with Mr. Finley.” She glanced over at the officers. “You gentleman can verify that I said that.”

Manx stalled, then finally waved the two officers out of the room. He followed but not before shooting a warning look in Finley’s direction.

“I’d apologize for Detective Manx, but that would mean I was trying to excuse his behavior, and quite honestly, there is no excuse for his behavior.”

She sat back down with a sigh and an absent rub at her eyes. When she looked up at Will Finley, he was smiling.

“I just realized who you are.”

“Excuse me?” Maggie asked.

“You and I have a mutual friend.”

The door opened again, and Maggie jumped to her feet, ready to snap at Manx. It was, instead, one of the other officers. His entire face seemed to be apologetic.

“Sorry, but the kid’s lawyer just got here. He’s insisting on seeing him before any more questioning is—”

“You shouldn’t be questioning him at all,” a voice from the hall interrupted. “At least not without his attorney present.” Nick Morrelli pushed past the officer and into the room. Immediately, his eyes found Maggie’s and his anger gave in to a smile. “Jesus, Maggie. We have to stop meeting like this.”