“There, that should be the worst of it,” I said as I started wrapping her fingers with sterile gauze.
I glanced up and saw that her grimace had melted into a thoughtful stare. She was absently chewing at her lower lip, something she tended to do when she was preoccupied. I stopped wrapping for a moment and asked, “You okay? This too tight?”
She snapped out of the shallow trance and looked at me. “What? Oh, no, it’s fine. I… Ummm… I was just thinking about earlier.”
I went back to wrapping the gauze then glanced up as I said, “Earlier? You mean the hypnosis?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Before that. Before I left this evening.”
“What about it?”
“What I said about you feeling sorry for yourself,” she said hesitantly. “I’m sorry.”
I gave my head a slight shake. “Don’t be. You were right. I have been feeling sorry for myself.”
“No, Rowan…”
“Yes,” I interrupted her objection. “I have. Don’t get me wrong, honey, it hurt when you said it, but all you did was point out the obvious. I should actually thank you.”
“Aye, but I shouldn’t have been so mean.”
“You weren’t really.” I grinned. “No meaner than usual, anyway.”
She gave her head a dismissive shake, but the corners of her mouth curled into a slight grin.
“Of course,” I added as I started applying the tape, “I’m not suddenly all better now just because of what you said. That only happens in the movies. But, I recognize that my own self-pity is a part of the larger problem, so maybe I’m on the right path to do something about it.”
“You know you have family who wants to help, then.” Her words were a comment as much as a question.
“Yes, I do.”
“Hey you two,” Ben’s voice came from the doorway. “Come look at this for a second. I think I got somethin’”
Felicity was already coming up out of the chair as he finished the sentence, and I had to rise in unison with her as I hastily finished looping the white tape around the gauze.
“Whoa, honey, slow down,” I told her as she pulled away and stepped past me, but she wasn’t listening.
I knew the sense of urgency she was exuding all too well. She was physically manifesting her desire to get this over with, to make it into a distant memory. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that it wouldn’t work. Nothing could make it play out any faster than had already been pre-ordained and that speed was something that we’d never be privy to before the fact.
But, what pained me even more was the fact that while I knew the memories would fade somewhat, the distance would never be great enough for her to ever stop running from them.
I pushed back the wave of sorrow brought on by the thought and followed her into the dining room.
“Look at this,” Ben was already saying, running his finger along the contours of lines between the sketch and a page in the road atlas. “Right here, this could be the Mississippi River.” He drew his hand downward, first on one page then the other. He shot a quick glance at us and then proceeded to motion horizontally. “This here could be Two-Seventy, and this could be Riverview.”
I stuck my hand in and traced the same lines. “Sure, but couldn’t this also be the Missouri River, this be Highway Seventy, and that be Fifth Street?”
“Yeah,” he replied, swishing his fingertip around. “And it could also be the other end of Two-Seventy and this could be Two-Thirty-One. Or it could be Sixty-Four and Fifty-Five for all that matter. But bear with me. Just assume that this is the Mississippi and look here and here.” He pointed first to an extra line running perpendicular to the line he had identified as Highway Two-Seventy. “This could be the Chain of Rocks Canal on the Illinois side.” He moved his finger back and forth between the sketch and the road map and then dropped his finger onto a small spot on the drawing. “On the mirror, this is pretty much just a bloody fingerprint, so I really didn’t pay much attention to it at first, but look at this.” He pointed to an identical spot on the roadmap, and at the tip of his finger was a small triangle encompassed by a circle. “This is the tourist info center on the Missouri side.”
I glanced back and forth between the two renditions, considering what he had said. The sketch was rough and in reality, just a simplified version of the smears that coated the bathroom mirror. Unfortunately, what we were looking at could be any one of a hundred intersections on the map, not to mention that we were looking only at Missouri. Still, if you did as he said and made certain assumptions, the details could be construed to support his conclusion.
“Tamara Linwood was found in Rafferty Park, right?” I asked. “Near the Missouri River.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “And that is southwest. And, Sarah Hart was found in River’s Bend Park.”
“Northwest,” I murmured. “Again, near the Missouri.”
“I know, I know,” he replied. “You’re thinkin’ ‘So, why dump a body near the Mississippi now. It breaks the pattern.’ Well, believe me I’m thinkin’ the same thing, but it’s still near a river. And, just look at the map.”
“But, why so close to the state line?” I mused aloud. “The plates on the car were Illinois, right? Wouldn’t that be too close to home?”
“Yeah, the tags were Illinois, but the car was from Wisconsin. Remember, they were both hot, Row.”
“I don’t know, Ben,” I replied. “I can see half a dozen spots on the map that look just like the drawing. What do you think, Felicity?”
My wife had been completely mute through the entire explanation, and even now she didn’t reply. I looked over and found her motionless, staring down at the map-covered surface of the table. Her gaze was once again unfocused, and she looked dangerously like she was inches from slipping across the veil yet again.
I reached out and gently placed my hand on her shoulder as I spoke, a thin note of concern underscoring my tone. “Felicity?”
“That’s it,” she finally said in a soft monotone, her fixed stare still aimed at the table. She reached out and placed the tip of her finger against the map, southwest of the location Ben and I had been discussing. The words next to her lacquered nail read, Woodcrest State Park.
“That’s it,” she repeated. “That’s where I am.”
CHAPTER 22:
“Woodcrest is gated,” Agent Mandalay said, looking at the map. Then she tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.
She had arrived almost immediately following Felicity’s announcement pinpointing what she believed to be the location of Brittany Larson’s remains. Ben had filled her in on the necessary details, including his pet theory about the rest area on Highway 270. Now, we were all huddled around the table staring at the maps once again.
“Sorry about that,” she apologized before continuing. “Anyway, if I remember correctly, they open at seven A.M. like most of the other state parks.”
“That’s almost three hours from now,” Felicity objected.
“I’m sure I could get someone out there to unlock the gate,” Mandalay replied. “But I don’t think it would be a good idea. This is still just between us, and if you’re wrong, the whole thing could blow up in our faces.”
“But I’m not wrong,” Felicity objected.
“I believe you think that, Felicity,” she said. “But are you absolutely sure? You’ve been through a lot tonight. Both of you. How do you know you aren’t misreading it all? The map you drew doesn’t look anything like the park you are pointing at.”
“I just know I’m not,” my wife returned.
“That’s not good enough,” Constance told her. “You have to remember what, and most especially who, we are dealing with here. My influence with the Major Case Squad is tenuous at best. If we attract attention from the wrong parties, then this could go very sour. Especially if this turns out to be a wild goose chase.”
“Besides, Felicity,” Ben interjected. “Even if ya’ Twilight Zone in on the right spot, it’s still gonna be dark for a
