“I can hear you fine.” The man’s voice was booming, commanding, and the anchor smiled. It would be a strong interview.
“Mr. Clark,” the anchor continued, “we understand that you believe your daughter has been taken by the Southern Strangler. Can you tell us what information you have been given that has led you to draw this conclusion?”
“My little girl is missing, and I want to plead with whoever took her to please let me have her back. I’ll be posting a hundred-thousand-dollar reward for any information leading to her safe return. She’s such a sweet girl, she never hurt anyone. Please, please, just let her go.” His head dropped into his hand and his shoulders started to shake. A small arm appeared from his left and the camera pulled back to show a young girl comforting Clark. The alleged best friend, of course.
The girl looked young, younger than Ivy Clark’s age of twenty-one, but the cameras could be deceiving when it came to youth. She could have been twelve or thirty as far as Baldwin knew. The way she touched Tanner Clark made him wonder if there wasn’t something more between Ivy’s best friend and Ivy’s megamillionaire father. A montage of pictures filled the screen while the man broke down. Ivy on a horse, Ivy in a ball gown, Ivy in jeans and boots and a tiny pink tank top with a young man who looked suspiciously like Prince William.
The anchor wasn’t about to lose the shot of the grieving father, but he had gotten to dead air and needed to keep the interview rolling. “Miss Simone, is that right?”
“Yes, I’m Serene Simone.” She had a slight accent that Baldwin wanted to say was French but he could not be absolutely sure. “I am Ivy’s best friend. She is dear to me and I want to echo Mr. Clark’s sentiment. We just want Ivy back home safe and sound.”
“Can you tell us a little more about Ivy, please, Miss Simone?”
As she began to speak, the montage started again. Ivy Clark was a stunningly beautiful young girl who looked like she could have a good time. She was smiling in all of the pictures, and Baldwin could see the sparkle of a small diamond in her right nostril. A photo of her in an open-backed dress showed a couple of tattoos on her shoulder, and another shot of her from the back showed some sort of tattoo on her lower back. Baldwin pulled the missing persons report to the front of the file and read a bit more. Chinese symbol on the inside of her right ankle, a small dragon on her bikini line, a rose on the top of her foot, a small butterfly on her right shoulder blade and more Chinese symbols on her lower back. They should not have any trouble identifying the body if the tattoos were intact.
He looked at the screen again, muting out the honeyed words of Serene Simone and concentrating on Ivy’s face. The mischievous grin and the sparkle in her eyes got to him the most. This girl was so alive, too alive to possibly be dead. But Baldwin knew that was probably exactly what she was. Dead and gone, like all the others. They needed to catch Buckley. Damn, why hadn’t they gotten any more information on him?
The time for the segment was up; the anchor wrapped the interview quickly. “I’m sorry to have to cut you off, but we are out of time. Let’s see that emergency number again, producers. If you have any information on the whereabouts of Ivy Tanner Clark, missing from Louisville, Kentucky, please call this number. We’ll see you after the break.”
The screen filled with an 800 number, one that Baldwin recognized as the FBI tip line. The number had generated hundreds of calls with leads that were going nowhere. It was time to make a change, to make something happen.
A hundred thousand dollars might help. Of course, it might hurt, too, because they’d be inundated with tipsters dolling out bogus information.
Baldwin looked down at the files in front of him. He went through the list again, covering Jake Buckley’s travel schedule for the past two months. The man had been on a junket, and had been in thirty cities in the past month. But the cities they needed to see him in figured prominently. Huntsville, Alabama; Baton Rouge, Louisiana; Jackson, Mississippi; back to Nashville. Then on to Noble, Georgia; Roanoke, Virginia; Asheville, North Carolina, then Louisville. He was scheduled for a break back in Nashville that would last for a week. Maybe he was done killing, maybe he wasn’t, but he was coming home, and home was where they’d hopefully find him.
He was due back in Nashville last night. He had not arrived home, so the BOLO, Be on the Lookout, for his car had been issued, yet no one had reported seeing the car anywhere between Nashville and Louisville. It was time for Baldwin to talk with Quinn Buckley. He needed to get a better sense of who they were dealing with.
Forty-Three
He dug in the dirt like a carefree child, singing softly to himself under his breath.
“One little, two little, three little Indians…four little, five little, six little Indians…Don’t have the seventh or the eighth little Indian…but that’s okaaaaay for now!”
He spread the rich, loamy soil into the holes, then dusted off his hands and broke open a package of seeds he’d gotten at the local hardware store. Sprinkling the minute buds of life, he started to laugh. Pushing up daisies, literally. Really, he could be so funny sometimes.
He stood, brushing the dirt from his knees, and reached for a gentle misting hose. He started the water and stepped back to admire his newly sown garden. How very lovely.
Forty-Four
Quinn Buckley was starting to get worried. Jake was due home and had not shown up, the FBI was looking for him, a nationwide alert had gone out about his car, and nothing was happening. She was sitting alone, in her empty kitchen, nursing a cup of tea and a broken heart. She had not been able to reach her brother for several days, and she had not been able to make plans for her sister’s burial. The children had gone to play at a friend’s house. She barely remembered telling them that they could, but there was a terse note from Gabrielle telling her that the kids were down the street on a play date. The big house was silent and brooding, and she felt like she was losing her mind.
She knew there was no way Jake Buckley had killed all those girls. Jake may be many things, a poltroon, an adulterer, a bad husband, yes, he was all of those. But he was not a killer, and when she got the phone call from John Baldwin at the FBI she had readily agreed to have him come out and sit with her, to talk about some of the details about Jake Buckley that he had not been able to ascertain. Maybe she was just lonely and needed to have someone sit with her, hold her hand and tell her they understood.
She wandered into the study, the one room in the house that she felt she could call her own. Perhaps a book would cheer her up. She entered the room and took in a deep breath. Standing in the middle of the room was Reese, her little brother. She jumped and let out a startled cry. He just looked at her with unfathomably sad eyes.
“Jesus, Reese, you scared me to death. When did you sneak in here? I didn’t even hear the doorbell. Oh, it’s good to see you. When did you get back?”
She went to him and enfolded him in a hug. Reese was tall; like Jake he was nearly six foot four in his stocking feet. He had black curly hair, a rogue’s smile, dark blue eyes and a dimple in his chin. His jaw was broad, his nose chiseled, and Quinn couldn’t help but give him an admiring glance. He was just so handsome. And so very young. She was filled with pride for a brief moment then shook it off.
“Sweetheart, I tried to reach you for days, but I could never get through.”
“I’m sorry, Quinn. I told you we’d be out of touch. It was amazing. Really amazing. I learned so much. I got in late last night and heard your message on my machine this morning. Why did you need to reach me?”
Quinn did not know how to approach the subject. She knew Whitney and Reese were not close by any means. But they were related, after all, that had to count for something. She took his hand and led him to the closest chair, a huge leather swayback with studded nails going up the sides. She sat him down and in turn took a seat on a velvet ottoman facing him. She took both of his hands in hers and looked him straight in his gorgeous eyes.
