step. Now we have to do all the fun stuff, matching the DNA and all, but it looks like we got our man.”
“That’s great news, hon.”
“Yeah, I’m just happy it’s over. What are you doing?”
“Trying to figure out why Quinn and Whitney’s file doesn’t mention anything about the sexual assault.”
“It doesn’t? That’s strange. There’s no documentation on it?”
“Not a thing. Their hospital records don’t have a record of a rape kit being performed on either of the girls.”
“Well, that can’t be right. Chase went to jail after he was found guilty of kidnapping and sexual assault. I’ve seen those pages myself. There must be a part of the file that’s missing.” She started rooting around her desk, didn’t find anything of use, then went out into the Homicide office. She looked through the papers on Fitz’s desk and found a slim file labeled Connolly.
“Here’s something. Looks like Fitz didn’t grab all the files. Let’s see.” She opened the file and scanned. “Says here that only one of the girls was assaulted. That’s the reason it’s not in the hospital reports, it wasn’t reported the night they found them. It came a few weeks later. Hmm. Now that’s funny. It doesn’t say which girl was raped. Huh.” She handed the file to Baldwin. “That’s a little bizarre, isn’t it? The girls’ personal physician made this report, but he doesn’t identify which girl it happened to. Granted, this was twenty years ago. It’s still strange, don’t you think?”
They went back into Taylor’s office. Baldwin sat in the visitor’s chair and propped his feet up on her desk. “Didn’t you say there were rumors about the girls after they transferred in to Father Ryan?”
“Well sure, there were rumors,” Taylor answered him, rubbing her temple. “But it was all just that, rumors. They came in as freshmen my sophomore year, and I didn’t know too much about them. They were attending Harpeth Hall before, and I think I remember someone saying they’d taken a year off, then came over to Ryan. I know their mom was pregnant while all of this was going on, that I do remember. They had a little brother, what’s his name again? Oh yeah, Reese. Reese Connolly. Quinn said he’s a doctor, doing his residency at Vanderbilt.”
Baldwin raised an eyebrow at her. “The timing’s right, don’t you think? They take a year off, and suddenly they have a little brother?”
Taylor was taken aback. “You think that one of them got pregnant by Nathan Chase? And had Reese, then their parents covered it up? Man, that’s screwed up. They were only twelve. But it begs the question. Which one would it have been?”
“That’s something we may want to find out. In the meantime, I want to see if Nathan Chase has had any visitors lately. I have a feeling what happened to Quinn and Whitney twenty years ago may be linked to what’s happening today. Remember Quinn said she should have told Jake the truth from the beginning? You think she was trying to confess that she’d had a child and he rejected her?”
“Lord, Baldwin, you’re just grasping at straws now. There’s nothing in the evidence that leads that way.”
“Maybe not, but I want to get a list of Nathan Chase’s visitors anyway. We’ll do that in the morning. In the meantime, let’s go home. I’m too tired to think anymore tonight. Anything new on Whitney’s computer?”
Baldwin had dropped the laptop off in Taylor’s office earlier.
“No, nothing since we arrested Jake Buckley.”
“Maybe that’s a sign. Let’s get out of here.”
Taylor nodded, so they gathered up their things, straightened up her desk and left the Homicide office. Five minutes after they left, the light began blinking on Whitney Connolly’s laptop, informing one and all that she had new mail.
Forty-Seven
Baldwin’s phone rang at six in the morning, rousing him from the best sleep he’d had in weeks. He’d gone to bed without the report of another missing girl floating through his brain, without wondering what new horror awaited him when he opened his eyes. He slept dreamlessly, snuggled beside Taylor in the warm bed, knowing that he was close to cracking this case.
Though he’d been a bit circumspect about Jake Buckley’s culpability in the series of murders, the talk he and Taylor had gone through on their way home abated his concerns. Taylor’s theory was a strong one. Quinn Buckley had told the truth to her husband about what happened when she and her twin sister were kidnapped. That they had been raped, had borne a child in secret, that the news was too much for Buckley to take. Already a promiscuous, bullying man, he’d gone over the edge, making his regular travel a cover for murder. A bit thin, but plausible. Today was the day they’d put it all together. The DNA would confirm everything.
The phone call would derail every theory they had.
“Baldwin,” he answered, yawning.
“It’s Garrett. Why are you sleeping so late?”
“It’s 6:00 a.m. Central time, Garrett. You’re an hour ahead of me, remember?”
“I do remember. You need to get up. We have a problem.”
Baldwin groaned and rolled over, realizing Taylor wasn’t lying beside him. Where had she gotten off to? He sat on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through his hair, dreading the answer to his next question.
“What’s the problem, Garrett?”
“The DNA sample you submitted for Jake Buckley doesn’t match the Strangler. He’s still out there.”
Baldwin was wide awake now. “Aw, man, damn. Shit.” He threw out a few more expletives, enough to get Taylor back in the room, eyes questioning what was wrong. He held up a hand, stopping her question.
“But Buckley had Ivy Clark in the trunk of his car. Are you saying that he really didn’t know she was there, like he claims?”
“I can’t tell you that, Baldwin. I’d talk to him again, but without a DNA match, you’re going to have to figure something else out. He definitely isn’t a match to the DNA found at the Dale crime scene, that much we know for sure. I can’t say he didn’t murder those girls, but it seems likely that he’s not your man.”
“All right. Let me get on this. I’ll need to talk to Buckley again. Shit, Garrett, I knew something wasn’t right about this.”
“As usual, your intuition pays off. Always trust it, Baldwin. Now get out there and find us the real killer before he hits again.”
Baldwin clicked off the phone and flopped back onto the bed. Taylor eyed him, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re never going to believe this. The DNA from Buckley doesn’t match the Strangler’s vics. Come on, let’s go to your office. We’re going to need some help on this one.”
Half the day was gone by the time they had gotten Buckley back from the sheriff, interrogated him again, nailed down his timeline, then sent his sorry ass home. Taylor didn’t think he’d be all that welcome when he showed up at Quinn’s door, but didn’t feel sorry for him in the least. The man was a horse’s ass, and she was sorry that they had no charges they could press against him, just for being a jerk.
He’d left threatening to sue, and Taylor waved to him as he left, wondering how quickly the suit would appear.
She glanced at the corner of her desk where Whitney Connolly’s laptop had taken its place of honor. The e- mail light was blinking.
Holding her breath, she opened the cover and booted up the system. Whitney’s e-mail was practically empty compared to the other times she’d checked. There was one new message, flagged in red, and Taylor’s heart began to race when she saw the address. IM1855195C@yahoo. com. It was him, it was the Strangler. And the time code was from the previous evening. Shit, that meant…
“Baldwin!” she yelled. He was right outside her door, stuck his head in as quickly as her shout ended.
“What? What’s wrong?”
She turned the laptop around so the screen faced him. He saw it immediately, rushed into the room and double clicked to open the message. There was yet another poem. He read it aloud.
