fiancee’s or wife’s finger would certainly be enough to convince me that a kidnapper was deadly serious.”
Over the past few months, Taci and I had discussed getting married and when I mentioned wives and fiancees, my thoughts naturally jumped to her. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was nearly six. Undoubtedly I’d need to stick around here for at least a couple hours. I was never going to make it back home in time to cook dinner for her by seven.
Earlier, she’d mentioned that she had something she wanted to talk with me about privately and I hadn’t gotten the best vibe from her when she said that. I knew something was up, and I had the sense that canceling might not be the best idea.
Radar eyed me. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“Anyway,” he said, “I’m thinking the guy might not have gone to the police. As you said, he knew the kidnapper was deadly serious.”
“Right.”
Just thinking about what sort of demand the suspect might have made of the woman’s lover was disturbing- especially if he was escalating as it appeared he was.
“Alright,” I said, “we need to get word out about this woman. I want to make sure we stop her husband or fiance or whoever from doing whatever her abductor demanded. We can release word about her condition to the media, about the severed finger, emphasizing that she’s okay, safe, and under police protection.”
Calculating when Colleen had been found at the pier this morning and the time of a round-trip drive during the day, I said, “The warm hood on the Taurus…There might be more than one missing woman within a six-hour drive of here, but I doubt there’d be more than one whose left ring finger was left behind.”
“I thought you don’t like working with the media?”
“Well, right now time is what matters most. Stopping the woman’s spouse or lover from carrying out the kidnapper’s demands, whatever those might be, and maybe getting us something we can use to actually find this woman’s attacker trumps everything. Get a physical description of her out now and as soon as she regains consciousness, release her photo to the press.”
“I’ll call it in.”
He left and I quickly moved on in my mind to step five: evaluation.
Everyone is tempted to prove what he believes, and that affects not only conscious decision-making but the way our minds subconsciously process information. There’s even a name for it: confirmation bias. Most of the time we’re not even aware of it happening. Naturally, no one likes to be wrong, but the best investigators step back and actually try to find holes in their own theories. This moves you toward objectivity, and that always brings you closer to the truth.
However, the CSIU arrived just as I was beginning to form a working hypothesis that I could try to disprove.
“I want the different spots of blood spatter on the floor checked separately,” I told them. “I don’t care how many favors we have to pull in to get the DNA results back fast. We have no idea how many people this guy may have brought to this train yard. Until further notice, this whole area-everything inside this fence-is a crime scene.”
“That’s a big crime scene,” one of them objected.
A thought: “Let’s make it even bigger. We also need to include the woods.”
“The woods?”
“He knew where the fence was pulled loose, which path to take through the forest. That makes the fence part of the scene.”
“And the woods.”
“Yeah,” I replied, “and the woods. Because he might have tossed evidence-his phone, a knife, his gun. Possibly a set of clothes.”
They looked at me wearily, no doubt thinking about how long all this might take, but they said nothing more.
Then, even if they weren’t as skilled at their jobs as I might’ve liked, I needed to respect them enough to let them do what Thorne had sent them here to do.
Two things were on my immediate agenda: (1) call Taci; (2) get back to the boxcar I’d been standing on when the suspect fired at me and take a look at Bruce Hendrich’s body.
43
Joshua didn’t know exactly why he hadn’t killed Adele Westin.
He could have stabbed her with the necrotome, shot her with the Glock, taken the amputation saw to her neck-any of a number of things.
He protested against the thought, turned away from it.
However, in this case, killing Adele would probably have been the best idea. Not to take any chances. After all, he’d already let Colleen live, and look where that’d led.
Was that how law enforcement had found him at the train yard? He’d been careful with her, careful to make sure there was no way for her to tell where they were, but theoretically it was still possible.
The deadline had come and long since gone, and Carl had not called.
That bothered Joshua. It wasn’t going to make any difference anymore in the way he treated Adele, but still, the man’s fiancee had been abducted, her finger amputated and left behind, and he wasn’t even committed to her enough to call at the appointed time?
If anyone ever took Sylvia away from him, Joshua wouldn’t have taken any chance whatsoever that she would be killed. He would have called the number no matter what. He would have gone to the ends of the earth to save his wife and he couldn’t imagine how Carl had not made a simple phone call to save his fiancee.
Joshua needed to sort out a few things before going home, before returning to his normal life.
So that’s what he thought about as the search for him went on in the train yard and the neighboring woods.
One of the squads in the parking lot had a car phone, so I tapped in Taci’s number.
I caught her just as she was about to leave her apartment to run some errands before coming over for dinner. Though I felt bad about having to cancel, the homicide investigation obviously took precedence over our supper plans and I trusted that she would understand.
It wasn’t my place to tell her details about the case, but I was able to notify her that there’d been a homicide. “I’m not sure when I’ll be done here, but maybe we could grab a late supper, or dessert, whatever you feel up to.”
“No. That’s okay. That’s where you need to be. We can connect at breakfast tomorrow. I have some reading to do tonight anyway.”
“There was something important you wanted to discuss,” I said. “Maybe I should call you? When I get home?”
She reiterated that it was something she wanted to discuss in person, so we agreed to meet at seven thirty tomorrow morning for breakfast at Anthony’s Cafe, then we said our “I love yous” and hung up. It was only when I was walking back to the boxcar to have a look at Hendrich’s body that I realized I’d hung up without wishing her a happy anniversary.
And she had done the same with me.
44
