She nodded at Jeffery when the camera was ready but it was Otis P. who took her cue.
“I have a gift for you,” he told Jeffery.
The statement drew a stunned look from the veteran newsman that unnerved Sam. She had witnessed plenty of Jeffery’s performances. This was not one.
There was the smile again and another lick of his lips. Then Otis P. added, “I want to tell you where there’s a dead body. A pretty little thing wearing only orange socks.”
CHAPTER 28
Sam reminded herself that criminals lied all the time. During some of the previous interviews, she and Jeffery had listened to bizarre tales that murderers claimed as truth. Stories of how they stalked and killed their victims. They’d describe details as though they were proud craftsmen revealing trade secrets.
Some even shared horrible rituals of torture that they endured as children, as if to explain or excuse their compulsions. It was almost impossible to determine what was fact and what was fiction. They were lifers with little hope of parole, so they had nothing to lose by sharing.
But Otis P. Dodd? Sam couldn’t figure him out. What reason did he have to confess? He wasn’t asking for an attorney to be present. He didn’t seem concerned that this new revelation might cut some time off his sentence. About the only thing Sam could think that the man had to gain was attention. And he was certainly getting that.
Jeffery leaned in and stayed uncharacteristically quiet, more patient than Sam had ever seen him. He was allowing Otis P. to take his time and Otis P. was doing just that, enjoying every second.
“He told me she asked him for a ride. Said she was real pretty. Blond hair, blue eyes. Itty-bitty thing. But not a girl. He made sure I knew that. He doesn’t do little girls. Or little boys. No challenge in that.” He sat back and grinned, pleased to have an audience. “That’s what he said anyways.”
He started to cross his arms over his chest before he realized his wrist was shackled to the floor. It didn’t deter him. “Her car broke down. She was stranded at one of those rest areas off the interstate. He took her to a place in the woods. Bashed her head in. But not so that she was dead. Just part dead. So when he cut her open she’d still be warm.”
He paused with that silly grin on his face, like a little boy waiting to see their reaction, wondering if he’d be punished or praised.
“That’s what he said. He liked it when the blood was still warm on his hands. Then he pulled her guts out just to see what they looked like. What they felt like.”
When neither of them flinched, he continued. “He took everything off her so nobody’d know who she is. Everything except her orange socks. He wanted her to keep those for some reason. I don’t remember if he told me why. Then he stuffed her in a culvert.”
Otis P. looked away for the first time, up at the ceiling as if trying to think if he had forgotten something.
“At first I thought,
He shifted in his chair and looked from Jeffery to Sam and back at Jeffery. He was finished. And now he did look as though he was waiting for praise.
“What did he look like?” Jeffery asked.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Otis P. shrugged and shook his head. His tongue darted out to lick his lips again and Sam realized it was a nervous habit, not meant to be salacious, as she had thought earlier. “He looked like a pretty ordinary fella to me.”
And that was all he was going to tell them. This wasn’t about the other guy. This was about Otis P. getting attention. He wasn’t going to share his time in the spotlight, not even with the murderer whose tale he was telling.
“I can show you where she is. He told me.”
“What makes you think she’s still in the same place?”
“Oh, she’s still there.”
“You’ve been in here, what? Almost a year?”
A nod. The tongue did a quick poke out of the corner of his mouth and slipped back inside.
“What makes you think the body’s still where he said he dumped it?”
“Oh, she’s still there. Ain’t nobody found her.”
“How do you know for sure?”
“I’ve been watching.” Another shrug of his shoulder. “I know she’s still there. It’d be somethin’, wouldn’t it? Have a camera right there?” He waited to make sure Jeffery knew what he was talking about before he added, “You let me know. I’ll take you there.”
Then he was finished. He had told them all he was prepared to say.
It was dark outside when they made their way back to the car. Both of them had been quiet while they went through the halls and waited for the doors to unlock.
Now out in the open, walking side by side, with no one to eavesdrop, Sam asked, “What do you think?”
“He just wants a free road trip.”
Sam could tell Jeffery had already dismissed the idea and she was surprised. It sounded like the sensational crap he loved. “You don’t believe him?”
“When it comes to arson, I think Otis P. Dodd knows just about every single way to start a fire. He’s a master and his letters share all sorts of details. But this?” He waved his hand. “This is bullshit. I thought he’d give me something I could use for the warehouse fires. I’m not going to help him fly the coop or, worse, pull a Geraldo and go live only to get a frickin’ empty crypt.”
“So what about the woman in the orange socks?”
“If she ever existed, she’s been dead for over a year. There’s nothing we can do to help her now.”
CHAPTER 29
Patrick had spent the afternoon racing all over the neighborhood. He had gone door to door. Even met the asshole who, again, threatened to shoot Jake if the dog ended up anywhere on his property.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just call me?” Patrick had asked the man.
“Not much point after the third or fourth time. My solution keeps that bastard out of my yard permanently.”
That’s when Patrick went back, put Harvey on a leash, and the two of them set out to canvas the entire neighborhood, again. He even checked the empty house that was for sale next door to Maggie’s. Canvassed the backyard. Peeked inside the windows after he saw a light on. Lamp on a timer. People hated leaving empty houses dark, but they didn’t think about lights being a fire hazard.
Three hours later, it was dark and still no sign of Jake.
The thought of telling Maggie nauseated Patrick. She had gone out of her way to let him into her home and he’d let her down. How could he have been so negligent? He’d let the meeting with Braxton rattle him too much. It was just a job. Could the man really destroy his entire career over one mistake?
Harvey jerked to the left. The Lab wanted to cross the street. His nose was in the air.
“You smell him, Harv?”
He let the dog lead him, allowed him to tug hard on the leash and guide him. Harvey trotted up and over the sidewalk, continuing along a ridge of pine trees, dragging Patrick to the back corner lot of a huge colonial. Before they made it to the fence Patrick could smell what had piqued Harvey’s attention. It wasn’t Jake. Someone was grilling steaks.
They trudged home as the moon peeked from behind that same ridge of pines. Maybe Jake had come back on his own. As a boy Patrick had always wanted a dog but his mother always said no. She said a dog was too much responsibility. He longed for the company, someone to greet him at the door when he came from school to an
