suppressed and unintelligible because of the gag, communicated a profound terror.
“It’s okay,” Marvin said, clutching her shoulders. “You’re safe now, Lindsey. You’re safe.”
Lindsey kept shaking her head violently, screaming through her gag, thrashing her body wildly about.
Marvin flashed on a thought. Why was the door left unlocked?
“Lindsey, I’m not going to hurt you,” Marvin said.
A voice behind Marvin answered. “But
Fear swept through Marvin’s body, inducing a momentary paralysis. Marvin tried to turn around, but a thick arm wrapped around his neck and began to squeeze. Hard. The man holding him stood, pulling Marvin off the floor. The only thing Marvin could see was Lindsey, those wide eyes, frozen in terror. Marvin felt something sharp press against his side; he flinched in pain. He flailed his body about, making every effort to get free, but to no avail. Marvin felt the knife pressing harder.
“Close your eyes, Lindsey!” he shouted. “Close them tight and keep them closed!”
The tip of the knife pressed hard against Marvin’s skin. He felt it puncture, then tear, followed by an agony without equal in his memory. Marvin screamed. The sharp point of the knife ripped through his clothes and dug deep into Marvin’s belly without much resistance.
Marvin saw that Lindsey’s eyes were shut tight.
Then, blessedly, his pain was gone.
Chapter 69
As was customary in the Jewish faith, Marvin Pressman’s funeral took place as soon as possible. He’d been dead for less than forty-eight hours. In a few hours more, he’d be laid to permanent rest in the ground. His parents lived in Connecticut, but they were too distraught to drive themselves north. Tom arranged for a car service to bring them to the funeral home. Hundreds attended—colleagues, judges, and clients—joining Marvin’s extensive family in a heartbreaking celebration of his life.
Tom sat next to Rainy in the back row of the packed funeral home. The service was brief and dignified, befitting a life lived the same way. Rabbi Toby Hurwitz delivered a thoughtful eulogy, but Tom’s tears came at the end of the service, when Marvin’s mother spoke. Afterward, people in the front rows began to file out.
Rainy turned to Tom as she pulled a tissue from her purse, and whispered in his ear, “Are you all right?”
Tom nodded. “It’s just so senseless,” he said. “So sad and wrong. It was an honor to call him my friend. But hearing his mother speak tore me up inside. It made me think about my mother. It made me miss her. No parent should bury a child. It just isn’t right.”
“I agree, it isn’t,” said Rainy.
Tom wished Jill were beside him. He wanted to hug her close and keep her safe.
Tom had rarely let Jill out of his sight since Lindsey’s disappearance. But he couldn’t make her come to Marvin’s funeral. Not with the memory of her own mother’s service still fresh in her mind.
Tom recalled the phone call from Marvin’s assistant that had shattered his world.
Police had found his bloodied body on a running trail in Willards Woods. Later that day, on an anonymous tip, they arrested a serial felon in Millis and found in his possession Marvin’s wallet and the murder weapon.
A bloodstained knife.
Tom had jumped into action, planning the funeral. It was all he could do to help. Marvin’s sister, Amanda, the other lawyer in the family, and a few relatives lived in or near Shilo, but they were distraught and welcomed his help.
The planning was over. Now Tom could ponder the magnitude of what had occurred. Now he could allow himself to grieve.
The crowd soon thinned out, and he and Rainy stood to leave. Outside the morning sun gave way to clouds, and a chill fought its way into the air.
They stopped in front of a missing persons poster tacked to a telephone pole. Lindsey Wells’s cheerful face seemed to be watching them. Instructions on the poster detailed where to meet for the afternoon search.
“Is Jill going?” Rainy asked.
“No. I can’t let her. Believe me, she wants to.”
“Because you think Lindsey’s disappearance might be connected to what Jill found on Mitchell’s computer?”
“Exactly for that reason. Until I know what’s going on, she’s either with Vern and his kids or at home with me. She’s never alone.”
“I see.”
“I wish I could go on the search,” Tom said. “I’m trained, and with a phone call I can get a dozen military- trained search-and-rescue experts here in a blink.”
“Did you offer?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“Lindsey’s father wouldn’t even look me in the eyes when he said no.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s thinking what everybody around here is thinking.”
“What’s that?”
“That I had something to do with Lindsey’s disappearance. That I did something to her to keep her from testifying against me.”
“You told me you didn’t. Should I still believe you?”
Tom glared at Rainy but softened the angry look that flashed across his face.
“Yes, you should believe me,” he said. “Why do you even ask?”
“Because in my profession, I deal with liars all the time. Do you know anything about antisocial personality disorder?”
“You mean a sociopath? Some, I suppose.”
“These people make a lifestyle out of their criminal behavior. They lie without remorse. But they’re not delusional. They don’t believe their lies. They’re just unbelievably good at lying.”
“The navy trained me in kinesics. I got pretty good at telling when people were lying.”
“Well, I’ve come across sociopaths who are so good at lying, they can fool a lie detector.”
“Not a hard thing to do.”
“These people can fool seasoned FBI investigators, spouses, children, parents… kinesics experts, too.”
“And you think I’m a sociopath and a liar?”
“No,” Rainy said. “I just asked if you were.”
“Well, if I’m that good a liar, why would you ever believe me?”
“Because I want to believe you,” Rainy said.
Tom made sure to look Rainy in the eyes. He knew all the tells of a liar—rapid blinking, excessive face touching, smiling with just the mouth, even a defensive posture.
“I had nothing to do with the disappearance of Lindsey Wells,” Tom repeated. Tom didn’t say anything more. Rainy would know liars often overexplained themselves, offering more details than requested.
“What’s the real reason you asked me to come to Marvin’s funeral, Tom?”
“Let’s go to your car, and I’ll tell you on the way to the cemetery.”
Rainy’s sedan brought up the rear of a forty-vehicle-long procession. Tom sat in the passenger seat. He had not forgotten that his last trip with a law enforcement officer was spent handcuffed in the backseat.
Rainy spoke first. “Are you ready to talk?” she asked.
“I wanted you to see how much Marvin was loved. I wanted you to get a feel for who he was as a person. Because I wanted you to care about his death.”
“Care in what way?”
