The Perfect Couple (27 page)

Maybe even Anton.

Rolling her forward, he unhooked her bra so he could stare at her while he canceled with his friends.

"What do you mean you can't do it tonight?" Tommy cried. "We were all set, man!"

"Sorry, Tiffany has the flu."

There was a slight pause. "Okay, so we'll get together at my place.

Leave her at home to recuperate."

"I can't leave her when she's sick."

"Why not?"

"What kind of husband do you think I am?" he said and hung up.

Then he scooped Zoe into his arms and carried her upstairs.

176

To stave off his exhaustion, Jonathan took a big gulp of the coffee--

now long cold--in the cardboard cup he'd left in his car. He'd just finished visiting Marti Seacrest and her parents. If not for the boy in the hospital, which could turn the situation around, Jonathan would've thought Sam's case was hopeless. There just weren't any leads. He'd never confronted a missing-person situation where he had less to go on. Even his interview with Sam's best friend hadn't yielded any new information. Just as he'd been told before, Marti insisted that Sam hadn't acted any differently in the week leading up to Monday. She hadn't met anyone new, wasn't talking about a particular boy or an Internet pal or an adult who'd befriended her since she'd been off school.

Once he mentioned that Zoe and Anton had split up, she did elaborate on Sam's dislike of her potential stepfather. Marti said Sam called Anton a

"control freak." But that didn't come as any shock to Jonathan. He'd already sensed her disdain for Anton from the way she'd hidden his face whenever he was in one of those pictures on her bulletin board.

An image of the Simpson boy appeared in his mind. Would Toby regain consciousness? Would he ever remember?

Jonathan's BlackBerry vibrated. Putting down his cup, he leaned back so he could retrieve it from his pocket and found a text message waiting for him:

Not feeling well. Getting a motel. Call u tomorrow.

It was from Zoe. Surprised that she'd decided not to come over, and that she hadn't called to hear whether he'd managed to uncover anything new today, he tried to call her back but got her voice mail.

Obviously, she was avoiding him. And even if she wasn't, he was crazy to keep pushing for more contact. He was setting himself up to get burned. Again. But she needed friendship and support; she shouldn't be alone in some motel room in the midst of such a crisis.

Or was that his libido talking?

He tried to reach her again, with the same result.

Sighing, he put his phone on the console and started his car, but a call came in just as he left the neighborhood--and this time the number brought a 177

smile. "Finally," he muttered and pushed the Talk button.

"Now that you're Mrs. Fornier you don't have time for your old friends?" he teased.

Jasmine's laugh made him miss her all the more. "Sorry. Romain and I were out on the bayou."

"The same bayou that has those crocodiles you're so scared of?"

"Boy, you're a real nature buff," she said with another laugh. "They're alligators."

"They both have sharp teeth and can make a mess out of you, right?"

"Right. I wouldn't want to come face-to-face with one. But they usually keep their distance. Romain knows what he's doing, so I'm safe as long as I'm with him. What's going on?"

Planning to stop by Zoe's neighbor's house to see if she'd left yet, he got onto Highway 65--and encountered a sea of brake lights. There'd been an accident or a spill or something up ahead. "I need your help, Jaz," he said.

"Your message made it sound as if you're on a tough case."

"I could be dealing with one of the sickest bastards I've ever come across."

There was a pause. "What have you got?"

He explained what they knew about Samantha Duncan's abduction, including the recovery of the Simpson boy.

"He was found in the woods?" she said when he'd finished.

Wondering what was blocking traffic, he tried to see around the cars ahead of him, but there were only more cars, stopped just like he was.

"That's right. Near Placerville."

"I'd check to see who owns any houses, cabins, even businesses in the area."

"A lot of the cabins are rentals."

"Then I'd get hold of the rental records."

He'd already been planning to do that. "How far back do you think I should go?" he asked. "One year, two years, more?"

"I'd go two years, at least. You never know--a name might jump out at you. Criminals typically confine their activities to familiar areas, areas where they feel most comfortable and in control. Maybe Master lives in Rocklin now, but he probably had a legitimate reason for being in Placerville at one time or another."

Problem was, sifting through the property and rental information would be a long and painstaking process, and might yield no results.

Meanwhile, Samantha could be in the hands of the man who'd brutalized Toby Simpson. For her sake, he'd been hoping for easier, faster answers.

178

"If this Master wasn't familiar with the area," she said, "I feel he would've turned the boy loose somewhere off Interstate 80, not Highway 50."

"Something had to draw him in that direction instead of toward Auburn, which would be a more natural choice if he was coming from Rocklin," he agreed. "But I don't believe he meant to set the boy free. I think Toby escaped."

"What makes you think that?"

Reluctantly, and only because he needed the caffeine, Jonathan swallowed another gulp of stale coffee. "One look at him would convince you he wasn't meant to survive. You should see the poor kid."

"I'm glad to be spared that." She didn't have to explain why; he knew she'd seen enough in her profiling career.

"So, when they found him they didn't get anything more out of him, other than that comment about Master treating him like a dog, and Rocklin?"

she asked.

"That's it. He was pretty out of it. But as hurt as he was, they still had a hell of a time catching him. He wouldn't trust the man who first encountered him, so that guy got his wife, assuming a woman would seem less threatening."

"Did it help?"

"Not much. Toby would let her come closer but dodge away before she could actually touch him, all the while crying for his mother."

"Have any other bodies turned up?" she asked.

He could tell by her brisk tone that she didn't want to dwell on Toby's condition. "Not that I've heard. I spoke with Skye's husband earlier."

"David's with Sacramento PD, not Rocklin."

"But I knew he'd get further with the other departments than I would."

Jonathan inched forward, along with the other motorists on Highway 65.

"There've been no homicides in the past several months, at least of pubescent or prepubescent children," he told her.

"What about the detective in charge? What's his name?"

"Thomas."

"Does he believe there might be a connection?"

"I talked to him a few hours ago. He's looking into it."

"He might be able to get someone to check the rental records."

That didn't mean Jonathan wouldn't have to do it himself. Only then could he feel confident that nothing had been missed or overlooked. "I hope."

The next few seconds passed in silence as Jonathan gave Jasmine 179

some time to mull it over.

"So what do you think about this guy?" he asked at length.

"Anything?"

"Because Master had the boy for so long, I'm tempted to assume he's a recluse, an outcast who hovers on the periphery of the community. He's got to be able to hide his prize, doesn't he?" she said.

"If he's going to hang on to a victim for two months, he does."

"But something isn't right about that theory. I'm not...comfortable with it."

"Could be the neighborhood," he said. "It's too new and affluent for the lonely, blue-collar worker you're picturing."

"True, but...it's more than that. There could be a few outcasts, a derelict son who's living with his parents, or a renter who doesn't fit the normal demographic."

"There aren't rentals in this part of Rocklin. I'd be surprised if there's more than one or two."

"Maybe Master inherited a fortune from his parents. Heck, maybe he even inherited their house and doesn't have anything to do all day but prey on kids."

Jonathan had already talked to all friends, family and neighbors and hadn't come across a situation like the one she described. "What about motivation?" he asked. "You think these are sex crimes?"

"The boy was found without his clothes, wasn't he?"

Several cars in front of him, an Explorer nosed over, trying to change lanes, and almost caused another accident. "Just what we need," Jonathan muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing. Master could've used nudity as a form of control. Or humiliation," he said. "I mean, if he's a sex offender, it's odd that he'd switch genders, isn't it?"

"Not especially. Not if he's more interested in sex as a form of torture than sex for its own sake. Studies have shown that a lot of psychopaths are working to fulfill one particular fantasy, to act it out until they get it 'perfect,'

which never really happens because it's more like an itch that comes back even after it's been scratched. The fantasy revolves around their particular fetish."

As interested as Jonathan was in this discussion, he was growing impatient with the traffic jam that kept him idling. At this rate, he'd miss Zoe for sure. But he had no option except to wait it out. The other lanes weren't moving any more quickly, and the next exit was quite a ways off. "Isn't that 180

why so many of them choose similar victims? This guy went from a fourteen-year-old boy to a thirteen-year-old girl."

"These kinds of offenders have to weigh the odds of getting exactly what they want against fulfilling their craving. It could be that Master would rather have had a girl when he took the Simpson boy or would've preferred a boy when he took Samantha, but one or the other became available to him, and he capitalized on the opportunity. Or..."

There was a slight break in traffic and he pulled ahead, hoping the congestion was finally about to ease, but it didn't. He had to brake again to avoid hitting the motorcycle in front of him. "Or what?"

"Or you're grasping at straws. Maybe there's no connection between the Simpson boy and the Duncan case. You could be dealing with two different perpetrators. You know that."

"I admit there's not much to link them--except the Rocklin connection.

That has me convinced Master's our scumbag. And Sam was taken on the same day Toby was found. For two crimes against children of a similar age to happen one right after the other in such a small geographic area, an area that sees very little of this kind of thing...it's too much of a coincidence."

"Well, if it is him, he's confident, I'll give you that."

"What makes you say so?"

"Any normal person would be shaking in his shoes if a victim got loose, would decide to lie low for a while."

"Probably."

"Yet he took Samantha immediately after the Simpson boy's escape."

"Maybe he's overconfident," Jonathan muttered.

"Or his compulsion is growing so strong the usual inhibitors are no longer effective. And there could also be other reasons. That's the problem with profiling. It's not an exact science."

A siren sounded behind him, and Jonathan inched to the side to make room for the ambulance. "The type of area he lives in leads me to believe he's not a disorganized personality," he said.

"That'd be my guess, too. And I'd say he's smart."

"Which means we have to be smarter. But we have no leads." Red and blue lights flashed up ahead. He was almost at the scene of the accident, but still couldn't tell what'd happened.

"Have you checked out the postman, the meter reader, the lawn service, the pool service--anyone who had a reason to go there on a regular basis?"

"The police and I are both working on the same list, so those people are getting checked and rechecked. I've talked to a lot of them. I just need to 181

verify a few alibis."

"Maybe Samantha got bored and walked to the closest convenience store," Jasmine suggested. "Have you spoken to the clerks at any of the nearby stores? Examined their security tapes?"

"The police have checked the tapes, but I haven't. She had mono. I highly doubt she walked anywhere."

"Still..."

"The more I get to know her mother, the more I doubt she'd leave home without permission."

There was a brief pause. "The more you get to know her mother? How close are you?"

"Not particularly close, but I've spent a few days with her."

"Be careful."

He knew the emotional hazards of the job. Maria, the first woman he'd ever loved, was also an early client of his. He'd had other relationships, but none as intense as the one he'd experienced with her. She'd come to him for help documenting her husband's abusive behavior and many affairs so she could gain sole custody of their son. Jonathan had had no trouble gathering the evidence she needed. Dan Bartolo was a dirty son of a bitch. But love--

and all that evidence--wasn't enough to save Maria. One day she suddenly went back to Dan, who shot and killed her two weeks later.

In Jonathan's line of work, it was never smart to mix business with pleasure. Maria's death had been a painful lesson. "She's not married."

"And you're not getting involved with her."

"No. Ours is a professional relationship," he said and tried to tell himself he could keep it that way.

"Good. The world can get pretty warped when you've just lost a child.

Her love life might look completely different to her in a few weeks or months. Chances are she'll go back to her fiance."

"I don't think so."

"She was with him for a reason, Jon. Once she adjusts to whatever the future holds, that reason might reassert itself."

He had a hard time believing Zoe would reconcile with Anton. But he realized it was possible. She had issues with father figures, and no doubt it was those issues that'd attracted her to Anton. It didn't take a psychologist to figure that out--or to understand that acknowledging the cause didn't eradicate the problem. "I've been around the block a few times, Jaz," he said to get her off the subject.