could see them. She steadied herself and tried to remember exactly what direction and how far it was to the bathroom. Once she felt back in control, she began spritzing, keeping the mist away from her feet as she slowly walked sideways. Maggie hadn’t reached the bathroom door when the floor began lighting up like a runway, long skid marks following her.
“Oh my God!” She heard Tully mutter from his dark perch, and she wanted to tell him to shut up. His shock unnerved her and worse, reminded her of her own.
Ganza pointed the red dot to the floor, following the trail that had once been bloody feet dragged across the parquet floor. Maggie pushed back strands of hair and swiped at the perspiration on her forehead. Was Jessica unconscious by the time he got her to the bathroom? The girl would have lost a lot of blood putting up a fight like the one smeared on the wall. Maggie wondered if she was conscious when Stucky lifted her into the whirlpool bath. When he told her all the horrible things he would do to her. Was she dead or alive when he started cutting?
“Let’s take a break here,” Keith said. “Agent Tully, go ahead and switch the lights back on.”
Maggie blinked against the burst of light, relieved at the interruption of her mind’s descent into the depths of hell. If she tried, she would be able to hear Jessica’s screams, her pleas for help. Maggie’s memory bank seemed filled with audio clips of what sheer terror sounded like. It was something she’d never forget, no matter how many years went by.
“Agent O’Dell?”
Tully startled her, suddenly standing in front of her. She looked around to see Keith busy in the corner, and only now did she notice that he had taken the spray bottles from her hands and was filling them.
“Agent O’Dell, I owe you an apology,” Agent Tully was saying. At some point he had removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves in haphazard and uneven folds. He unbuttoned his collar and twisted the knot of his tie loose. “I really thought there was nothing here. I feel like such an asshole.”
Maggie stared at him and tried to remember the last time anyone, especially in law enforcement, had apologized to her, let alone admitted to making a mistake. Was this guy for real? Instead of looking embarrassed, he genuinely looked sorry.
“I have to admit, Agent Tully, I was simply acting on gut instinct.”
“Maggie, we should remember to pull the drain from the whirlpool bath,” Ganza interrupted without looking up. “I’m betting that’s where he cut her open. We may find some leftovers.”
Agent Tully’s face grew paler, and she saw him wince.
“One thing we didn’t check last night, Agent Tully, was the garbage cans outside,” she told him, offering to save him. “Since the house is for sale and empty, the garbage collectors may have skipped it.”
He seemed grateful for the chance to escape. “I’ll go check.”
As he left, Maggie realized he could possibly find something equally shocking in the garbage. Perhaps she wasn’t saving him at all. She pulled out a fresh pair of latex gloves from her forensic kit and tossed out the ones she had contaminated with luminol. Keith unpacked a wrench, screwdriver and several evidence bags.
“You’re being awfully nice to the new guy,” he said.
She glanced at him. Though he kept his eyes on the items he was unearthing from his bag, she could see the corner of his mouth caught in a smile.
“I can be nice. It’s not like it’s an impossibility.”
“Didn’t say that it was.” He dug out Q-Tips, several brushes, forceps and small brown bottles, lining everything up as if taking inventory. “Don’t worry, Maggie, I won’t tell anyone. Wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation.” This time he gave her his eyes, light blue behind hooded, heavy lids that Maggie knew in the last thirty years had seen more horror and evil than any one person should ever be allowed to see. Yet now they were smiling at her.
“Keith, what do you know about Agent Tully?”
“I’ve heard nothing but good things.”
“Of course there are nothing but good things. He looks like a cross between Mr. Rogers and Fox Mulder.”
“Fox Mulder?” He raised his eyebrows at her.
“You know, from the TV show The
“Oh, I know who he is. I’m just surprised you know who he is.”
She found herself blushing as though he’d discovered some secret.
“I’ve caught a couple of episodes. What things have you heard? About Tully?” She quickly returned to the subject.
“He’s here from Cleveland at Cunningham’s request, so the guy has to be good, right? Someone said he’s able to look at crime scene photos alone and come up with a profile that nine times out of ten is on target.”
“Crime scene photos. That explains why he’s so squeamish with the real thing.”
“I don’t think he’s been with the Bureau long—five, six years. Probably slipped in right at the age limit.”
“What did he do before? Please don’t tell me he’s a lawyer.”
“Something wrong with lawyers?” Agent Tully interrupted from the doorway.
Maggie checked his eyes to see if he was angry with them. Keith went back to his task, leaving Maggie feeling as though she was the one who needed to explain.
“I was just curious,” she said without apology.
“You could just ask me.”
Yes, he was angry, but she saw him pretending not to be. Did he always make certain his emotions were so carefully kept in check?
“Okay. So what did you do before you joined the Bureau?”
He held up a black garbage bag in one hand.
“I was an insurance fraud investigator.” In his other latex-gloved hand he held up a wad of what looked like candy bar wrappers. “And I’d say our boy has a serious sweet tooth.”
CHAPTER 42
Maggie gripped the revolver and aimed at the dark figure in front of her. Her right hand shook. She could feel her jaw clench and her muscles tense.
“Goddamn it!” she yelled though no one could hear her in the empty firearms target alley. She had come in just as Agent Ballato, the firearms instructor, had ended his class. This late on a Friday, she would have the place to herself.
She relaxed her stance once again, dropping her arms and rolling her shoulders, flexing her neck. Why the hell couldn’t she relax? Why did she feel wound so tight? Like something would explode inside her at any minute?
She pushed her goggles up on top of her head and leaned against the half wall of her galley. After she and Agent Tully had left the house on Archer Drive she had called Detective Ford in Kansas City. She had listened to him describe the details of Rita’s murder, of her blood-soaked apartment, the semen-stained sheets and the remnants of skin and tissue the KC forensic team had found in Rita’s bathtub. It wasn’t that different from what they had found in the whirlpool bath at Archer Drive. Only, Stucky didn’t bother to clean up after himself in Rita’s apartment. Why did he clean up at Archer Drive after killing Jessica? Was it because he needed to use the house again? Did he lure Tess McGowan there and take her for later? And if he did take her, where the hell was he keeping her?
Maggie closed her eyes and wished the tightness in her chest would let up. She needed to focus. She needed to relax. It was too easy to conjure up the images. It was what she had been trained to do, but this time she wished she could shove them away. Her mind wouldn’t listen. Despite her effort to stop the images, they came anyway. She could see Jessica Beckwith’s small hands passing her the pizza box. Then she could see those same hands clawing and grabbing at the walls of the empty bedroom. Why hadn’t anyone heard her screams when they seemed so loud and vivid in Maggie’s head?
She set the gun aside and rubbed her eyes with both hands. It didn’t help. She could remember Rita’s face, the waitress’s fatigued but friendly smile as she had served the three of them Sunday evening in the smoke-filled bar and grill. And then, without effort or warning, came the images of Rita’s garbage-riddled body, her slashed throat and the glob that once was her kidney lying on a shiny dinner plate. Both women were dead only because
