“I’m on I-95, heading back to the District.”
“We’re all meeting out at Quantico.”
“Okay, then I’m only about ten minutes away.”
“Good.” Racine sounded relieved. “You didn’t call Ganza.”
“Damn! No, I forgot. Is he there?”
“He’s here someplace. I’m not sure where.”
Maggie could hear background noise. She knew Racine was pacing. A nervous habit Maggie quickly recognized.
“What is it, Racine? What’s going on? Did you get the arrest warrant?”
“Actually, that’s now multiple warrants, thanks to Ganza. There was some old police case Tully was checking out. It’s one you found about Everett raping…or excuse me, allegedly raping that journalism student?”
“That was over twenty years ago. And the charges were dropped.”
“Yeah, well, Rappahannock County has this thing about keeping evidence on file. I guess Ganza knows some boys out there in the sheriff’s department and they managed to FedEx some samples to him.”
“I can’t believe he’s wasting time on that old case. We can’t get Everett on that case, no matter what he thinks he found. The charges were dropped, the case closed. Besides, the statute of limitations on rape-”
“The sample was old,” Racine interrupted her, and continued as if not hearing her. “There was some degradation so he says he couldn’t get an exact match. But there’re enough hits that it’s close.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The sample Ganza took from the old case? The sample from Everett? The DNA matches the DNA sample of foreign skin found under Ginny Brier’s fingernails. Remember you said most of the skin was her own, but that she managed to get a piece of him? Well, she got a piece of him, all right, and Ganza swears it’s Everett.”
Maggie slowed and pulled her car to the side of the interstate, eliciting a blare of horns behind her before she was safely stopped and out of the way. She couldn’t believe this. It couldn’t be Everett. Could it? “Wait a minute. What about the gang thing?”
“It’s all starting to make sense, O’Dell. Maybe it’s some sick initiation ritual. Who knows how it works. But this also explains why the semen found in the Brier girl doesn’t match the DNA of the skin under the nails. One of Everett’s boys may have had that duty, while Everett took care of the rest.”
“I don’t believe this,” Maggie said, and felt a new sense of tension instead of relief. Why was there no relief in knowing Everett and his gang were behind the murders? What was still nagging at her? Why did this all seem so easy? She could see Everett orchestrating all of this, but somehow she couldn’t see his getting his hands dirty or getting close enough to get under Ginny Brier’s fingernails.
“Cunningham’s kinda pissed you’re not here yet. He’s been looking for you.” Then Racine’s voice came almost in a whisper as she added, “Actually, he looks more worried than pissed. Where did you say you were?”
“Getting to exit 148 now.”
“Good. An HRT unit and some agents are headed out to Everett’s compound now. The Rappahannock County officials are meeting them out there. In fact, they might already be there.”
“Oh, Jesus! They’re on their way to the compound now?” The panic slipped. “Racine, my mom’s a member of Everett’s organization,” Maggie said over the lump that suddenly obstructed her throat. “She may be out there at the compound.”
CHAPTER 66
Tully stood over the table, sorting through a mess of photos, documents, police reports and computer printouts. Garrison’s T-shirt and sweatpants were starting to smell. Why the hell did Racine bring this stuff out here? He tossed it beside the strange metal contraption set on the far corner of the table.
“Where is everyone?” O’Dell came rushing into the conference room, breathless, her hair tousled, her face flushed and her FBI windbreaker hanging off one shoulder.
He glanced at his watch. “Ganza went to get some dinner. Racine’s around here somewhere. Cunningham’s down in his office. He’s been looking for you. Where the heck have you been? You look like hell.”
“What about the HRT unit? Have they made it to the compound yet?”
“Haven’t heard.”
She went to the window and stared out at the darkness, as if hoping she could see the unit from there.
“They’ll be careful,” he said, and she glanced at him over her shoulder. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner about your mom being a part of Everett’s church?”
She came back from the window, stood on the opposite side of the table, in front of him. “Guess I didn’t want to believe it myself. And then I thought I could just talk some sense into her. You know, warn her. Pretty stupid, huh?”
“Nah. I think we all like to believe we have some sort of powers of influence over family members. Like, of course they’d want our advice, our suggestions. Sometimes I think the only thing natural about families is that we happen to share some of the same DNA.”
She managed a weak smile, and he was pleased that he could help. But then he realized it wasn’t enough when she asked, “Is Gwen around?”
Of course, she’d want her best friend.
“No, I don’t think Cunningham called her in. She was headed for her office when we got back from Boston. Maybe she’s still there.” He pretended not to care, but found himself wondering if Gwen was working late or home fixing some gourmet meal for herself in her cozy brownstone. Maybe spaghetti. He smiled, then caught himself, glanced at O’Dell to see if she noticed. She was looking over the mess. He was safe. Besides, Gwen wanted to forget it happened. And it probably was better that they do just that. He knew she was right.
He flipped through one of the many documents scattered over the table but wasn’t taking any of it in. He should probably go home. Even if they brought in Everett and that kid, Brandon, there was nothing more they could do tonight. But he didn’t want to go home. With Emma in Cleveland at her mom’s, the house was too empty, too quiet. It would probably just give him time to think about Boston. That wasn’t good-he was supposed to be forgetting about Boston.
O’Dell started pacing, close to the table so she could review the messy pile. He watched her as her eyes darted over the crime scene photos, but instead of stopping, she kept pacing, looking at them with each sweep. Had she not been worried about her mother, she’d be straightening out the mess, organizing and sorting and putting things into her neat little piles, trying to create order out of everyone else’s disorder. He wished she was doing just that. It unnerved him to see her like this.
Suddenly, she noticed something and stopped. She picked up two of the photos from Ginny Brier’s crime scene and started looking from one to the other.
“What is it?”
“Not sure.” And she set the photos down. The pacing began again.
“Do you have any idea what this stuff is and what it’s doing here?” Tully pointed to the heap on the corner of the table. More than anything, he just wanted her attention. She was starting to spook him.
“Garrison left those things behind. Guess he was in a hurry this morning.”
“And we’re keeping them because…?”
She shrugged and this time stopped to pick up the lightweight contraption, turning it over in her hands. She fidgeted with it and accidently popped what was a security latch. The thing sprung open.
“It’s a tripod,” she said, setting it on the table.
Now Tully could see the small plate where a camera could be attached and the lever to tilt and swivel it around. Suddenly, he was beside her, staring at the tripod. He rushed around the table and started riffling through photos, plucking three, one from each crime scene out of the mess. Still not saying a word, he came back around to Maggie’s side and placed the photos on the table next to the feet of the tripod. The photos were of the strange circular marks left in the dirt. In the photo from the FDR Memorial crime scene, there had been two, possibly three
