“I offered to bring Jed in, and turn him over to the police. Heather agreed, and told me to meet her at the convenience store, where she’d take me to see Jed. Then she conned the FBI into believing Jed was coming to the store. The FBI took the bait, and Heather used the opportunity to run.”
“Why did she do that?”
“I guess because she loves him. Now can I see the video?”
Burrell led me to the living room. Whitley had come inside and was staring at the monitors with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. A surveillance tape was playing showing a person wearing a faded jean jacket and workman’s cap walking down a dirt path behind LeAnn’s house. The person turned, and one of the techs froze the image. It was Heather, dressed in her husband’s work clothes.
“Do we know where she went?” Whitley asked the tech.
The tech unfroze the image, and we watched Heather disappear from the screen.
“No,” the tech said.
“Shit,” Whitley cursed.
“I know where Heather is,” I said.
Everyone in the living room stared at me.
“She went to be with Jed,” I said. “And I know who can tell us where Jed is.”
“Who?” Whitley asked.
I went to the window and cranked it open. Through the glass shutters I stared at LeAnn Grimes’s house with its “No Trespassing” signs scattered across the lawn. LeAnn and Jed had impressed me as having a special bond born out of years of shared adversity. If anyone knew where Jed was hiding, it was her.
“If you think LeAnn Grimes is going to help us, forget it,” Whitley said. “I tried to speak with her, and she slammed the door in my face.”
“That’s because you’re a cop,” I said. “She’ll talk with me.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“She trusts me.”
An uneasy silence filled the room. I glanced over my shoulder, and saw Burrell and Whitley exchange looks. They were going to have to work on their signals, because I knew what Burrell was going to say before the words came out of her mouth.
“Please, Jack,” she said.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
A s I came outside, Buster exploded out of the bushes and followed me across the street to LeAnn’s house. I made him lie on the grass, then knocked on the door.
“It’s Jack Carpenter,” I said.
I heard a deadbolt being drawn back, and LeAnn filled the doorway. She wore a shapeless black housedress, and her eyes were filled with dread.
“I need to talk to you about Heather,” I said.
“Heather’s in trouble,” she whispered.
LeAnn fell heavily against the door. She was in shock, and I escorted her to the living room and made her sit on the couch. From the kitchen I got a glass of cold water, and placed it beneath her lips. She drank the entire glass.
“Tell me what happened,” I said.
She pointed at the cell phone lying on the coffee table. It was right in front of her, only she didn’t want to touch it. I picked it up.
“Is there something you want me to hear?” I asked.
“Heather left me a voice message,” she whispered.
I sat beside her on the couch, and made her show me how to access her messaging service. Dialing in, I entered her password, then listened hard. At first, I heard nothing. Then Heather’s voice ripped through the phone.
“Help me! Please, somebody help me!”
Her attacker was beating her, and I could hear the blows. Heather’s screams grew louder, then suddenly stopped altogether. I strained to pick up any background noises, and heard another voice. It was small and strong.
“Leave my mommy alone! Leave her alone!”
It was Sampson, and he was fighting back. I listened as the killer dragged him across the room, and heard a door slam. Then the call ended.
An icy finger ran down my spine. The message was similar to Piper Stone’s last call. The killer had sent that message, along with this one. He was taunting us.
“Sweet Lord, have mercy on their souls,” LeAnn whispered.
“Where did Heather go?” I asked.
“To buy some things for Jed.”
“What things?”
“I don’t know. They talk on walkie-talkies, and sometimes it’s hard to make out what they’re saying.”
“Was she stopping someplace in the neighborhood?”
“I think so.”
“But you don’t know where.”
LeAnn shook her head.
“I need to talk to Jed.”
“I don’t know where my son is,” she whispered.
“I think you do,” I said.
Tears ran down LeAnn’s cheeks, and she balled her hands into fists and bounced them on her lap. I touched her sleeve, but she refused to look at me.
“Your son has a hiding place in the neighborhood, someplace where he goes when he wants to escape from the world,” I said. “He’s been going there for a long time, and you’ve always known about it, even if you haven’t talked about it. Am I right?”
She nodded stiffly.
“This secret place bothered you, so you watched him, and tried to figure out where he went. You wanted to know, and probably came up with some ideas, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she said softly.
“Tell me your ideas,” I said.
She took a deep breath. “It was nearby. I knew because he never took his bike or the car. For a while I thought he was going to a mall where his friends hung out. Then I realized that wasn’t so.”
“How did you know that?”
“His clothes. Whenever he went to his secret place, he wore the worst clothes. He didn’t do that when he went to the mall.”
“Did he invite his friends there?”
“Yes, all the time. I used to hear him on the phone.”
“So other kids knew about it.”
“Yes, they knew.”
“Do you remember anything else?”
“Jed always took a shower after he came home. One day I confronted him in the hall. That’s when the smell hit me.”
“The smell?”
“It was rancid. He smelled like he’d been rolling around in something dead.”
“Do you think he’s hiding in a barn?”
“He didn’t smell like horses.”
