“He bolted when Chris and Herb opened the front door,” Libby says. “How’s Emma and where’s Mick?”
“We don’t know about Emma’s condition yet. They’ve taken her to St. Joseph’s.”
What exactly happened?” Libby asks.
With mutual concern, Fran and Cynthia step over to join the conversation.
“Jason shot Emma in the back, and Mick shot Jason in the chest,” Niall says. His expression is grim. “As you know, Emma’s been life-flighted to St. Joseph’s.”
Slack-jawed, Libby’s and Cynthia’s hands fly to their chests. Fran buries her face in her hands. Through parted fingers, she asks, “Is Jason dead?”
“Close to it, but no. There’s another LifeFlight on its way,” Niall says.
“This is a terrible thing to say,” Fran says, “but I wish he had died.”
Niall nods and continues. “Mick will be here in a minute. He’s showering and changing his clothes, then he’ll swing by to grab a thermos of coffee on his way to the hospital. Libby, will you please call Emma’s emergency contact. Mick and I both assume it’s in her registration paperwork and that it’s her parents.”
“You’re right on both counts, this is going to be a difficult phone call,” she says, heading to her office.
Niall starts a fresh pot of coffee then puts on his apron and begins pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator and cupboards.
Seeing the look of devastation on Niall’s face, Cynthia says, “Fran, let’s give them some space. You haven’t seen the gorgeous guest room yet. I’d love to show it to you.” And with that, the two women head down the hall.
Mick arrives at the main house and finds Libby in her office, wrapping up the conversation with Emma’s parents. “Yes. St. Joseph’s. Okay. Sean McPherson is my brother. He’ll be at the hospital waiting. No. No. It’s no trouble at all. You can stay in Emma’s cottage. Yes. Uh huh, text me your flight details, and I’ll see you in Seattle. Ok, bye.” And she ends the call.
“You’re driving to Seattle?” Mick asks Libby.
“Well, the Benton’s—Maureen and Philip,” she corrects herself, “said it’ll be much faster to catch a flight to Seattle than Bellingham. They’ve got to get to St. Joseph’s from Sea-Tac somehow, and it’ll be emotionally better for them to ride with someone who knows Emma rather than with a stranger.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re the best sister ever?” Mick asks.
“Maybe a time or two.” She smiles. “By the way, are you going to finish getting dressed?”
Mick looks down and shakes his head. He tugs his shirt closed, then his fingers march up the buttons, fastening them.
Libby and Mick enter the kitchen together and share Libby’s plan with Niall.
“You’re right,” he agrees. “Mick, while you’re at the hospital, I’ll keep the home fires burning. I imagine it’ll be like a revolving door around here until the dust settles. And most people like to eat when they’re stressed.” Brandishing a wooden spoon, he continues, “And I can meet that need. Speaking of which, here’s that thermos of hot coffee I promised. Please keep us posted on any updates.”
Turning to Libby, Mick asks, “Are you taking the van?”
“That’s what I had in mind.”
“That’s great, I just filled it. I’ll take my Jeep. Thank you for the coffee,” Mick says to Niall as he heads toward the door. “I’ll call or text when there’s news about Emma.”
When Joe enters the cave, flashlight in hand, he sees latex gloves crumpled on Toni’s lap. “Did you check the backpack?” he asks, nodding toward it on the ground.
“I did, but nothing looks important. I left everything where it was. Do you want me to bag and tag it?”
“Yes, please.”
Pointing with her chin, she continues, “I removed the knife from the guy’s thigh before they carried him out of here. I bagged and tagged it, along with the empty bottles of Jack. They might have prints we can lift.”
“Good work, Bianco. Thank you.”
Carrying the evidence bags up the side of the canyon, Joe turns to Toni. “There are ten unsolved murders we think this guy’s responsible for. The autopsy findings from the first two victims show that each medical examiner recovered tissue from under their fingernails. And while the DNA tissue scrapings match each other, they don’t match anything currently on file in CODIS.”
Bianco listens intently, as she always does, sometimes grunting or nodding in encouragement, occasionally requesting clarification.
Joe continues, “At the hospital, we’ll be able to get DNA from Hughes or Berndt, or whatever the hell his name is.”
“I wonder why only the first two women had tissue under their nails?” Toni asks.
“The eight women after them had zip-tie restraints around their wrists,” Joe says. “It appears the killer got better at subduing his victims.”
They trudge for a while in silence, each one thinking their private thoughts.
“I’m meeting with Sean Rafferty at the hospital in the morning,” Joe says.
“Who’s Sean Rafferty?”
“Oh, that’s right, you’re a new transfer. Rafferty’s an FBI agent from the Seattle office. We’ve worked cases with him before.”
Toni’s step falters and she catches herself. “When did they get involved?”
“About thirty minutes ago.”
CHAPTER 25
“My aim in constructing sentences is to make the sentence utterly easy to understand, writing what I call transparent prose. I’ve failed dreadfully if you have to read a sentence twice to figure out what I meant.”
—KEN FOLLETT
Toni enters the hospital, wearing her uniform. Everyone trusts a cop. At the reception desk, she inquires about Alex’s post-op condition.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t have a patient by the name of Alex Berndt, listed,” the woman says.
Toni thinks about which fake ID he’s carrying and amends the question. “I’m sorry, that’s his pseudonym.” She smiles. “He’s an author. He’d be listed as Jason Hughes.”
The receptionist runs her finger down the page. “Ah, yes. Here’s Mr. Hughes. He’s in intensive care, but stable. That’s on the fourth floor. The elevator’s right over there.” She points to polished metal doors with fake greenery in
