Henry wanted to throttle the kid. Instead he said, “Charlie, would you—”
“I’ve got it taken care of, Sheriff.”
Henry noticed O’Dell just standing there, staring as if she couldn’t believe it, yet she was the one who suggested he search the area. He moved in for a closer look, leaning into the trunk and under the lid without touching anything. He examined the area around the woman for signs of anything that may have been left. Anything to tell them whether or not this was the missing Joan Begley. Maybe he even hoped the weapon accidently got tossed in or dropped inside. But there was nothing. From this angle he could see the side of her face and there was something familiar about her. Yeah, she looked familiar but he hadn’t seen O’Dell’s photo of Begley.
He gently touched the woman’s shoulder, moving her only slightly to get a better view. But what he saw made him jerk away.
“Holy crap!” He bashed his head on the lid of the trunk. He stumbled backward, slipping and almost losing his balance. Almost falling down.
The others stared at the back of the woman again, trying to see what had spooked him.
“It’s that TV reporter,” he said, out of breath and hating that his chest felt like it would explode. “That one who’s been following me around everywhere.”
“What are you talking about?” O’Dell said, stepping in closer to the trunk but waiting for him.
He rolled his shoulders and brushed his hands on the sides of his trousers as if to prepare himself. Then he leaned into the trunk as little as was necessary. He hesitated for only a second before he laid his hand on her shoulder again.
“He took her fucking eyes,” he said, moving her enough for them to see her face. Just enough for them to see the hollow sockets where her blue eyes had once been.
CHAPTER 57
Maggie could hear her cell phone beep, warning her that the battery was low and reminding her that she had forgotten to charge it last night.
“Tully, I’m probably going to lose you pretty soon, so give me the bottom line. Were you able to find out anything by going through Sonny’s e-mails?”
“He talks about getting sick a lot as a kid and his mother giving him medicine that only made it worse. Dr. Patterson suggested—okay now, this could be a long shot, but I think I agree with her—that he may have been the victim of Munchausen’s syndrome by proxy. Are you familiar with that?”
“You think his mother purposely made him sick so that she could get attention?”
“Yes, exactly. Dr. Patterson is talking with the local hospital. She’s hoping her credentials might get someone to check hospital records for maybe five to ten years ago.”
“Could you check another name for me? Jacob Marley. See what you can find on him.”
“Jacob Marley?”
“Yes, he’s the funeral director. I think Joan Begley had pizza with him the night she was taken. It may have been exactly like he told me, a business dinner to wrap up funeral details, but when I visited him yesterday he seemed nervous and guilty about something. And he’s a Junior who hates to be called Junior.”
“If he’s the funeral director he would have had access to Steve Earlman’s embalmed body.”
“Yes, he seemed too prepared to talk about that. But he doesn’t fit the killer’s profile. And now you’re telling me I need to be looking for a hypochondriac who’s also a paranoid delusional maniac because his mother made him sick on purpose? That should be easy to spot.”
“Very funny, O’Dell. I’m trying to help you.”
“I know you are. Sorry. It’s just frustrating.” She slowed the car, taking on more winding curves. “We just found another body.”
“Oh, jeez. Do you know if it’s Begley?”
“No, it isn’t her. It may have been her rent-a-car. They’re still checking it out. It was a local reporter with bad eyes.”
“Let me guess, he took the eyes?”
“Yes. And he stuffed her in the trunk of a car. I worried that he might do this. He probably got paranoid that she was following him, but according to Watermeier she’s been at the rock quarry every day and hounding
Her cell phone beeped again.
“I’m going to lose you, Tully.”
“I’ll call if I find anything on Marley. Oh, and I’ll have Dr. Patterson call you if she finds anything out from the hospital.”
“The thing is it could take too long. If Joan Begley is still alive I have a feeling she won’t be much longer. This last kill means he’s getting panicky. And all we seem to have right now are too many missing imperfections, a whole lot of coincidences and some white, waxy paper from a butcher shop.”
“Butcher-block paper?”
“Yeah, I guess that’s what it’s called. I’m guessing he has tons of it and uses it to wrap and temporarily store the body pieces. I keep thinking it’s got to mean something, but what? Any ideas?”
“I’m just wondering where you buy that stuff.”
“Well, not at the local Stop & Shop. We already checked.”
“Didn’t you say Earlman was a butcher?”
“That’s right.”
“Any sons?”
“No, I already thought of that. His shop closed when he died. Someone bought all the equipment but didn’t continue the business.” She almost drove through a red light, braking hard and drawing a honk from the driver behind her. Why hadn’t she thought about it before? Luc had said that someone bought all the equipment. “Why would you buy all the equipment if you weren’t going to have a butcher shop? Doesn’t that seem a bit odd?”
“I don’t know. You should see the crazy stuff people buy and sell on eBay all the time.”
“And how do you know what people buy and sell on eBay?” Another beep from her phone. “My battery really is running low, Tully. Before I go, two things—how’s Harvey? He’s not driving you crazy, is he?”
“Not at all. In fact, I think you may have to bribe Emma in order to get him back.”
“Don’t you dare let her get attached to my dog, Tully.”
“Might be too late.”
“Second, how’s Gwen doing?”
There was silence and she thought she had already lost him when he finally said, “I think she’s doing okay.”
“Will you do a favor for me and please check on her?”
“Sure, I can do that.”
“Thanks, Tully, and tell Emma she does not get my dog.”
“O’Dell, one other thing.” This time she could hear his tone change. “Cunningham asked me about you.”
Maggie felt her muscles tighten.
“He wanted to know if you mentioned anything to me about your vacation,” he continued, sounding serious, almost apologetic.
She knew Tully was a straight-shooter. He’d never lie, especially to Cunningham, and now, she had probably gotten both of them in trouble.
“What did you tell him?” she asked, gripping the steering wheel in preparation for his answer.
“I told him the truth, that you said something about daffodils.” Then he hung up before she had a chance to respond.
She smiled and pulled the car into a parking lot, trying to get her mind back on track and off a possible reprimand. Somewhere she had a city map, besides the one Tully had drawn for her. It was just a hunch, but then what else did she have to go on? She needed to find the county courthouse. She needed to find out who had bought all that butcher shop equipment, including what might have been rolls and rolls of butcher-block paper.
