Tully checked his watch. He had promised Emma lunch and a total discussion of this prom thing. He had already decided to stand firm on the matter. Emma could call it being close-minded if she wanted to, but he simply didn’t want to start thinking about her as being old enough to date. At least not yet. Maybe next year.
He glanced over at O’Dell who stood over the reports they had received earlier from Keith Ganza. Without looking up at him, she asked, “Any luck with airport security?”
“No, but now that Delores Heston has filed a missing-person’s report, we can get an APB out on the car. A black Miata can’t be that hard to miss. I don’t know, though. What if McGowan just decided to take off for a couple of days?”
“Then we ruin her vacation. What about the boyfriend?”
“The guy has a house and business in D.C., and another house and office in Newburgh Heights. I finally tracked down Mr. Daniel Kassenbaum last night at his country club. He didn’t sound very concerned. In fact, he told me he suspected McGowan might be cheating on him. Then he quickly added that their relationship was a no- strings sort of thing. That’s what he called it. So, I guess if his suspicions are true, maybe she simply took off with some secret lover.”
O’Dell looked up at him. “If the boyfriend thought she was cheating on him, can we be certain he didn’t have something to do with her disappearance?”
“I honestly don’t think the guy cares, not as long as he was getting what he wanted.” O’Dell looked puzzled. Tully felt a surge of emotion and knew this was a touchy subject with him. Kassenbaum reminded him too much of the asshole Caroline had left him for. Still, he continued, “He told me the last time he saw her was when she stayed over at his house in Newburgh Heights Tuesday night. Now, if the guy thinks she’s cheating on him, why is he still having her stay overnight at his house?”
O’Dell shrugged. “I give up. Why?”
He wasn’t sure if she was serious or being sarcastic. “Why? Because he’s an arrogant asshole who doesn’t care about anyone other than himself. So as long as he’s getting his jollies serviced, what does he care?” She was staring at him. He should have known when to quit. “What do women see in guys like that?”
“Getting his jollies serviced? Is that what you call it in Ohio?”
Tully felt his face grow red, and O’Dell smiled. She went back to the reports, letting him off the hook, and evidently not realizing how hot the subject made him. Last night, Daniel Kassenbaum had treated him like some servant he didn’t have time for, scolding Tully for interrupting his dinner. Like the guy didn’t think maybe Tully was interrupting his own dinner by looking for his girlfriend? Maybe Tess McGowan really did take off with some secret lover. Good for her.
He stood facing the map again. They had circled possible sites, mostly remote wooded areas. There were way too many to check. The only clue they had was the sparkling dirt found in Jessica Beckwith’s car and in Rachel Endicott’s house. Keith Ganza had narrowed down the chemical concoction that made up the metallic substance, but even that didn’t narrow down the sites. In fact, it made Tully wonder if they were looking in the wrong places. Maybe they should be checking out deserted industrial sites instead of wooded areas. After all, Stucky had used a condemned warehouse in Miami to hide his collection until O’Dell found him.
“What about an industrial site?” He decided to try out his theory on O’Dell.
She stopped what she was doing and came beside him, studying the map.
“You’re thinking of the chemicals Keith found in the mud?”
“I know it doesn’t follow his pattern, but neither did the warehouse down in Miami.” As soon as he said it, he glanced at O’Dell, realizing the subject may still be a touchy one. If it was, she made no indication.
“Wherever he’s hiding, it can’t be far. I’m guessing an hour, maybe an hour and a half at most.” She traced the area with her index finger, a fifty-to-seventy-mile radius, with her home in Newburgh Heights at the center. “He couldn’t drive too far and still keep watch over me.”
Tully watched her out of the corner of his eyes, again looking for any signs of the frenzy, the terror he had witnessed the other night. He wasn’t surprised to find it masked. O’Dell wouldn’t be the first FBI agent he knew who could compartmentalize her emotions. With O’Dell, however, he could see it was an effort. He wondered just how long she could contain them without cracking at the seams again.
“The map may not show old industrial sites that have been closed. I’ll check with the State Department and see if they have anything.”
“Don’t forget Maryland and D.C.”
Tully jotted notes on the McDonald’s brown paper sack that had held his breakfast; a sausage biscuit and hash browns. For a brief moment he tried to remember the last meal he had eaten that hadn’t come from a bag. Maybe he’d take Emma somewhere nice for lunch. No fast food. Somewhere with tablecloths.
When he turned back, O’Dell was back at the table. He looked over her shoulder at the crime scene photos she had sorted. Without looking at him, she said in almost a whisper, “We need to find them, Agent Tully. We need to find them very soon or it’ll be too late.”
He didn’t need to ask who she meant. She was talking about the McGowan woman, and also her neighbor, Rachel Endicott. Tully still wasn’t convinced either woman was missing, let alone taken by Stucky. He didn’t share his doubts with O’Dell, nor did he share with her that he had talked to Detective Manx in Newburgh Heights. With any luck Manx would find it in his stubborn, isolationist pig head to share whatever evidence he recovered from the Endicott house. Though Tully didn’t expect much. Detective Manx had told him the case was nothing more than a bored housewife running off with a telephone repairman.
He hated to think Manx might be right. Tully shook his head. What was it with married women these days? He didn’t like being reminded of Caroline for the second time that morning.
“If you are right about Tess McGowan and the Endicott woman,” Tully said, careful to keep his own doubts aside, “that means Stucky has killed two women and taken two others in a span of only one week. Are you sure Stucky could pull that off?”
“It would be tough but not impossible. He would have had to take Rachel Endicott early last Friday. Then come back to Newburgh Heights, watch Jessica deliver my pizza, lure her to the house on Archer Drive and kill her late Friday evening or early Saturday morning.”
“Doesn’t that seem like a bit much?”
“Yes,” she admitted, “but not for Stucky.”
“Then somehow he finds out that you’d be in KC. Even finds out where you’re staying. Again, he watches you, Delaney and Turner with the waitress—”
“Rita.”
“Right, Rita. That was what, Sunday night?”
“Around midnight…actually early Monday morning. If Delores Heston is correct, Tess showed the house on Archer Drive Wednesday.” She avoided Tully’s eyes. “I know it sounds like a lot, but keep in mind what he’s done in the past.”
She started sorting through the photos again. “It’s never been easy to track. Some of the bodies were found much later, long after they were reported missing. Most of them were so badly decomposed we could only guess at the time of deaths. But the spring before we caught him, we estimated that he killed two women, leaving them in Dumpsters, and that he had taken five others for his collection. That was all in the span of two or three weeks. At least that’s the time frame that the women were first discovered missing. We didn’t find those five bodies until months later, and they were all in one mass grave. The women had been tortured and killed at different intervals. There were signs that he may have even hunted down a couple of them. We found evidence that he may have used a crossbow and arrows.”
Tully recognized the photos. O’Dell had laid out a series of Poloraids that chronicled one victim’s wounds. If the photos hadn’t been marked, it would be difficult to tell that they were all the same woman. This was one of those five victims who had been found in that mass grave. The corpse was one of the rare ones found before decomposition or before animals had ravaged it. It was one of the few that was intact and whole.
“This was Helen Kreski,” O’Dell said without looking up the name. “She was one of the five. Stucky choked and stabbed her repeatedly. Her left nipple had been bitten off. Her right arm and wrist were broken. There was a puncture through her left calf with a broken arrow still intact.” O’Dell’s voice was calm, too calm, as though she had resolved herself to something beyond her control. “We found dirt in her lungs. She was still alive when he buried her.”
“Christ, this is one sick son of a bitch.”
