early this morning.'
'Was she home at the time?'
'Yes.'
'Was she alone?'
'I guess so… I mean, I don't know. She was when I found her. Before that, I just don't know.'
'Did you or anyone call the police?'
'No. I called nine-one-one.'
Jessica glanced at her watch. 'Stay right there. We'll be there in ten minutes.' FAITH'S SISTER SONYA was an older, heavier version of Faith. But where Faith's eyes were soul-weary, threaded with sorrow and exhaustion, Sonya's were clear and alert. Jessica and Byrne talked to her in the small kitchen at the back of the row house. There was a single glass in the strainer by the sink, rinsed and already dry. The man sat on a stoop two doors down from Faith Chandler's row house. He was in his seventies. He had wild gray hair down to his shoulders, a five-day stubble, and sat in what looked like a motorized wheelchair from the 1970s-bulky, jury-rigged with cup holders, bumper stickers, radio antennae, and reflectors, but very well maintained. His name was Atkins Pace. He spoke with a deep Louisiana drawl.
'Do you sit out here a lot, Mr. Pace?' Jessica asked.
'Just about every day when it's nice, chere. I got my radio, I got my iced tea. What more could a man want? 'Cept maybe a pair a legs to chase pretty girls with.'
The twinkle in his eyes said he was just making light of his situation, something he had probably done for years.
'Were you sitting out here yesterday?' Byrne asked.
'Yessir.'
'What time?'
Pace looked at the two detectives, summing up the situation. 'This is about Faith, isn't it?'
'Why do you ask that?'
'Because I seen the paramedics take her away this morning.'
'Faith Chandler is in the hospital, yes,' Byrne replied.
Pace nodded, then made the sign of the cross. He was nearing an age where folks fit into one of three categories. Already, just about, and not quite yet. 'Can you tell me what happened to her?' he asked.
'We're not sure,' Jessica replied. 'Did you see her at all yesterday?'
'Oh yeah,' he said. 'I seen her.'
'When?'
He looked skyward, as if gauging the time by the position of the sun. 'Well, I'll bet it was in the afternoon. Yes'm. I'd say that was most accurate. After twelve noon.'
'Was she coming or going?'
'Coming home.'
'Was she alone?' Jessica asked.
He shook his head. 'No, ma'am. She was with a fella. Nice looking. Looked like a schoolteacher maybe.'
'Have you ever seen him before?'
Back up to the sky. Jessica was starting to think this man used the heavens as his own private PDA. 'Nope. New one to me.'
'Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?'
'The ordinary?'
'Were they arguing, anything like that?'
'No,' Pace said. 'It was pretty much business as usual, if you know what I mean.'
'I don't. Tell me.'
Pace looked left, then right. Stoop gossip coming. He leaned forward. 'Well, she looked to be in her cups. Plus, they was carrying a few more bottles. I don't like to tell tales, but you asked, and there you have it.'
'Would you be able to describe the man who was with her?'
'Oh yeah,' Pace said. 'Right down to his shoelaces if you want.'
'Why is that?' Jessica asked.
The man fixed her with a knowing smile. It erased a few years from his furrowed face. 'Young lady, I've been in this chair over thirty years. Watching people is what I do. '
He then closed his eyes and rattled off everything Jessica was wearing, right down to her earrings and the color of the pen in her hand. He opened his eyes, winked.
'Very impressive,' she said.
'It's a gift,' Pace replied. 'Not one I asked for, but I most definitely have it, and I try to use it for the good of humankind.'
'We'll be right back,' Jessica said.
'I'll be right here, chere. '
Back inside the row house, Jessica and Byrne stood in the center of Stephanie's bedroom. At first they'd believed that the answer to what had happened to Stephanie was contained in these four walls-her life as it stood on the day she left it. They had examined every item of clothing, every letter, every book, every trinket.
As Jessica looked at the room now, she noticed that everything was exactly the same as it had been a few days earlier. Except for one thing. The picture frame on the dresser-the one that had held a photograph of Stephanie and her friend-was now empty.
60
Ian Whitestone was a man of highly cultivated habit, a creature of such detail and precision and economy of thought that those around him were often treated like items on an agenda. In all the time he'd known Ian, Seth Goldman had never seen the man exhibit a single emotion that seemed to come to him naturally. Seth had never known a man with a more icily clinical approach to personal relationships. Seth wondered how he would take the news.
The climactic sequence of The Palace was to be filmed in a virtuoso, three-minute shot, filmed at the Thirtieth Street train station. It would be the final shot of the film. It was the shot that would secure the nomination for best director, if not best picture.
The wrap party was going to be held at a fashionable nightclub on Second Street called 32 Degrees, a Euro bar named for its fashion of serving shots in glasses made of solid ice.
Seth stood in the hotel bathroom. He found he could not look at himself. He held the photograph by the edge, flicked his lighter. In seconds, the picture caught the flame. He dropped it into the hotel bathroom's sink. In an instant, it was gone.
Two more days, he thought. It was all he needed. Two more days and they could leave the sickness behind. Until it all began again.
61
Jessica headed the Task Force,her first. her number one priority was to coordinate resources and manpower with the FBI. Second, she would liaison with the brass, give status reports, prepare a profile.
A sketch of the man who was seen walking down the street with Faith Chandler was in the works. Two detectives were following the chain saw used to kill Julian Matisse. Two detectives were following the embroidered jacket worn by Matisse in Philadelphia Skin.
The first task force meeting was scheduled for 4:00 PM.
The victim photographs were taped to a whiteboard: Stephanie Chandler, Julian Matisse, and a photograph taken from the Fatal Attraction video of the still-unidentified female victim. There had not yet been a missing-
