“Your collection.”
There was a long pause. “Yes.” As he frowned, he covered up whatever was in his stare by looking down at his hands. “I was in the woods and something came at me. An animal. It was from out of nowhere. I tried to beat it off, but it was too strong. . . .”
How’d that feel, you bastard, she thought.
“There was a man there—he saw it happen. He can tell you. I picked him out of the photographs yesterday.”
“What happened with the man?”
“He tried to help me.” More with the frowning. “He called nine-one-one. . . . I don’t remember . . . much . . . else—wait a minute.” Those beady eyes got shrewd. “You were there. Weren’t you.”
“Is there anything you can tell me about the animal.”
“You were there. You watched me get put into the ambulance.”
“If we could stay with the animal—”
“And you were watching him, too.” Kroner smiled, and the Mr. Nice-and-Normal pretense slipped a little, a strange calculation entering his eyes. “You were watching the man who’d been with me. Did you think he’d done it?”
“The animal. That’s what I’m interested in.”
“That’s not alllllll you’re interested in.” The
“What kind of animal do you think it was?”
“A lion, a tiger, a bear—oh, my.”
“This is not a joke, Mr. Kroner. We need to know whether we have a public safety issue.”
Having studied interview techniques, she figured she’d give him an opening to be a hero. Sometimes suspects like him would play the game in hopes of ingratiating themselves, or trying to gain trust they would later enjoy violating.
Kroner’s lids dropped low. “Oh, I think you’ve taken care of the public just fine. Haven’t you.”
Yeah, assuming he didn’t flee this hospital, and the system slammed a prison door on him for the rest of his natural life. “It must have had fangs,” she said.
“Yes . . .” He touched his ruined face. “Fangs . . . and big. Whatever it was—it was overpowering. I still don’t know why I survived—but the man, he helped me. He’s an old friend. . . .”
Reilly made sure that her expression didn’t change in the slightest. “Old friend? You know him?”
“Like recognizes like.”
As a chill rippled down her spine, Kroner lifted a hand up and stopped her from speaking. “Wait—I’m supposed to tell you something.”
“And what is that?”
Those bandages on his face crumpled up as if he were grimacing, and that hand went to his head. “I’m supposed to tell you . . .”
Considering he didn’t know her at all, that was impossible. “Mr. Kroner—”
“She had long blond hair. Straight, long blond hair . . .” He took a labored breath and batted at his temple as if he were in pain. “He’s stuck on the hair . . . that blond hair with the blood on it. She died in the tub—but that’s not where her body is.” Kroner’s head went back and forth on the pillow. “Go to the quarry. She’s there. In a cave— you’ve gotta go deep to get to her. . . .”
Reilly’s heart started pounding. The scope of her interrogation was supposed to be limited to the night of the attack, but there was no way she wasn’t following up on this one. And no reason why Kroner would know that Cecilia Barten was a case she was working on.
“Who are you talking about.”
Kroner dropped his arm and suddenly his color took a turn toward the gray spectrum. “The one from the supermarket. I’m supposed to tell you this—she wants me to tell you. That’s all I know—”
Abruptly, he started to shake, the trembling in his torso escalating until he jerked back into the pillows and his eyes rolled into his skull.
Reilly lunged forward and punched the call button and intercom. “We need help in here!”
From out of the seizure, Kroner shot a hold onto her wrist, those unholy eyes of his glowing. “Tell him she suffered. . . . He has to know . . . she suffered. . . .”
CHAPTER 27
Back at HQ, in the evidence room, Veck went through everything there was of Kroner’s collection, filing away in his mind snapshots of the objects. Unfortunately, there was nothing that he’d seen in the photographs at the Bartens’ that matched any of the jewelry or other things.
Stepping back, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Shit.”
“There’s still more,” the investigator said. Without looking away from what he was doing, the guy threw back the drape that covered all that had yet to be cataloged.
Veck took a drink from his cold coffee, went over, and leaned in at the hips. No touching, of course, so good thing it had all been laid out side by side. More jewelry . . . more hair ties with strands of black and brown and pink stuck to—
His phone went off, and he pivoted away to answer it. “DelVecchio. Yeah, yup . . . uh-huh . . . yup, that’s me. . . .”
It was Human Resources, verifying his information before they sent out his first paycheck. As he rushed through the questions, he thought, no offense, but he had better things to do.
When he was finally off with them, he turned back around to the tray. He’d been so sure that Sissy had been taken by Kroner. Fucking hell—
From out of the investigator’s latexed grip, a gold glint flashed as whatever it was got put under the microscope.
It was an earring. A small, birdlike earring. Like a dove or a sparrow.
“Can I see that?” Veck said hoarsely.
But even without the closer look, he recognized what it was . . . from the Bartens’ bookcase, that close-up of Sissy when she’d been unaware she’d been photographed. She had been wearing an earring just like it.
Maybe she’d been wearing that exact one.
His phone rang again just as the investigator held up the piece of evidence.
When Veck glanced at the screen and saw it was Reilly, he immediately accepted the call. “You’ll never believe this—I’m looking at Sissy Barten’s earring.”
“In the Kroner evidence.” It was a statement, not a question.
Veck frowned. Her voice sounded all wrong. “Are you all right? What happened with Kroner?”
There was a brief pause. “I . . .”
Veck stepped away from the investigator, going into a corner and turning his back to the guy. Dropping his voice, he said, “What happened.”
“I think he killed her. Sissy. He . . . killed her.”
Veck’s grip squeezed down on the phone. “What did he say.”
“He identified her by the hair and the Hannaford.”
“Did you bring any photographs of her? Can we get a positive—”
“He went into a seizure in the middle of the interview. I’m outside the ICU right now and they’re working on him. No telling whether they’ll pull him through or not.”
“Did he say anything else—”
“The body’s somewhere in the quarry. According to him.”
“Let’s go—”
“I’ve already called de la Cruz. He’s going over there with Bails—”
“I’m leaving right now.”
