A Trace of Crime Page 9

  Once there, it took an extra five minutes to navigate all the police barriers and TV trucks on the streets surrounding the Rainey house. When they finally pulled up on Rindge Avenue, they had to park half a block away because of all the police vehicles.

  “What did Castillo do with Hernandez?” Keri asked, realizing she’d been oblivious to everything that happened after Ray mentioned Jessica Rainey’s bloody clothes.

  “She took him back to the station for booking. Edgerton’s going to check the guy’s phone GPS. But unless it comes back with something shocking, it looks like he’s not our guy. This package was dropped off at the airport FedEx location just after midnight. And the more I think about it, the more your theory about him just being a perv makes sense.”

  “Yeah,” Keri agreed, trying to compel her mind back into investigative mode. “If I had to guess, I’d bet he was just following Jessica home so he could sneak a peek at her mom. He had several photos of her in that room.”

  They arrived at the door, where they flashed their badges for the officer standing guard out front. He nodded and opened the door. They were about to walk in when Ray put a hand on her shoulder.

  “I know this is tough for you. But I have to know—are you good to go now? There’s a family in there that needs Keri Locke at full strength.”

  “Put me in, Coach. I’m up for it,” she said with more far more conviction than she felt.

  Ray studied her closely and she could tell he wasn’t completely persuaded. But they both knew there was nothing to do about it so he simply nodded and motioned for her to lead the way.

  When they entered the kitchen, they found much of the team was already there. Lieutenant Hillman and Manny Suarez were off in a corner, looking down at what Keri assumed was the ransom note.

  The Raineys were seated at the breakfast table. Carolyn’s face was pinched, as if she were trying to keep it together. Tim Rainey had the hollow-eyed look of a man who’d used up all his energy reserves and was nothing but a shell now. He’d been on such an emotional roller coaster that Keri suspected he was mostly just numb.

  Edgerton and Brody were sitting at the table with them and Brody was speaking quietly. Keri couldn’t hear what he was saying but he was using a tone she’d never heard from him before. He sounded sympathetic, even comforting.

  Tim Rainey looked over at them briefly with a stare somewhere between blank and hostile, then returned his attention to Brody. Keri and Ray made their way unobtrusively over to Hillman and Suarez.

  “Is that the note?” Ray asked, nodding at the sheet of paper on the counter in a Ziploc bag.

  “Yep,” Suarez said, sliding it over. “Maybe you’ll have more luck with it than we have. It’s pretty messed up.”

  Keri and Ray looked down at the note, which was once again typed out, not printed on a computer. It was much shorter than the first one but equally disturbing.

  You do not deserve a second chance. And yet I give you one.

  The sinner should be fertilizing the ground at this moment and yet she lives.

  You violated the oath of a father by bringing in the unclean pigs.

  I am tempted to slaughter the young violator of his law as if she too was a pig.

  I have included a small token for you, with a hint of the blood that will be spilled if you fail me again.

  This creature must be snuffed out, either by me, or by you.

  Provide me $200,000 and it can be you.

  Call the number on the clothing.

  Keri looked at the small piece of what appeared to be part of a shirt in the baggie next to the letter. It was soaked in blood except for one small section where a phone number had been written in black ink.

  “Did Mr. Rainey try the number yet?” Keri asked Hillman, already knowing the answer.

  “Right away,” he replied. “He got nothing. It didn’t even ring. He texted as well and got an error message.”

  “Edgerton checked,” Manny added. “It’s not an active number. It never was. It’s like he just made it up.”

  “We at least know the clothing is real though,” Hillman said. “The mom identified it as being from the shirt she wore to school yesterday. It’s going to take a while to check on the DNA but the blood type is a match.”

  “I don’t get it,” Ray said. “He gives a dummy phone number and his note doesn’t include any delivery instructions? How are the Raineys supposed to know where and when to take the money?”

  They were all quiet for a moment before Keri finally spoke.

  “They’re not,” she said. “I know none of you buy my theory, but I don’t think this guy cares about the money. I think he just wants to torture these people.”

  “But why even mention money at all then?” Manny asked.

  “To give them false hope,” she replied. “A kidnapper who really wanted the money would be very clear about where to bring it. He wouldn’t give an invalid phone number. This is about something else entirely.”

  “What?” Hillman asked, sounding willing to be convinced.

  “I have no idea,” she admitted.

  “Then what good are you?” a voice demanded from behind her.

  Keri spun around to see Tim Rainey staring at her, venom in his eyes.

  “Excuse me?” she said, torn between confusion and resentment.

  “You have no idea,” he said, repeating her words. “But you’re supposed to be the genius detective who always finds the missing kid. I’ve seen you on the news. You’re a real hero—”

  “Tim, stop,” his wife interrupted, putting her hand on his. But he shook it off angrily and continued, now full-on yelling at Keri.

  “No! She’s the superstar detective, always brings them back safe, except when it comes to finding my daughter—or your own!”

  A silence filled the room. Keri felt tears start to form at the back of her eyes but blinked hard to force them back. She felt Ray make an imperceptible move toward her, as if to somehow protect her from the sharpness of Rainey’s words.

  “Daddy?” a tiny, scared voice said from the corner of the room.

  Everyone turned to see little Nate Rainey in the kitchen doorway. He was wearing footy pajamas and holding his dangling Pooh bear by the arm. His brown hair stuck up on one side, where it must have been pressed against a pillow overnight. He was trembling.

  “It’s okay, Natey,” his dad said, immediately standing up, swooping over to his son and scooping him up in his arms. He carried him out of the room without another word and they could hear his footsteps on the stairs as he took the boy back to his room.

  With them gone, the room returned to silence. Keri could feel everyone’s eyes on her.

  “I’m so sorry,” Carolyn Rainey said, her voice anguished. “He didn’t mean it. He’s just so on edge.”

  “It’s okay,” Keri said quickly, trying to make things return to normal. But it wasn’t okay. Not even close.

  *

  Jessica awoke with a start.

  Despite her awkward position, sitting with her back against a metal pole and her arms handcuffed behind it, she’d managed to drift off. But now there was a loud clanging sound outside the metal door, as if someone was sliding a bar along it. Then there was another bang, as if another lock had been opened.

  After a moment, the door slowly creaked open, shining a shaft of light into the otherwise mostly darkened room. Jessica tried to blink the sleep from her eyes. She realized she was holding her breath and reminded herself to inhale.

  “Who is it?” she tried to yell. Her voice came out as a raspy croak. There was no response.

  A second later someone stepped through the doorway. It was impossible to see anything other than a figure in silhouette. The person was holding something and as the door opened more, she realized it was a small stepladder.

  The person walked silently past her, placed the ladder on the floor, and stood on it. Then Jessica realized what he was doing—replacing the burned out light bulb. After a few seconds it was scr
ewed in and light flooded the room. Jessica looked away and closed her eyes, opening them slowly to let them adjust.

  “Please let me go,” she pleaded. The person said nothing.

  She could hear him step down, fold up the ladder, and leave the room. By the time she was able to really see again, he was gone. She looked over in the corner where the skeleton lay and realized that the room wasn’t actually any brighter. It was still hard to make out the form. It had just seemed brighter at first because she’d been in darkness for so long.

  The shadowy figure returned to the room and she got a good look for the first time. Based on the build, it was a man. He was about five foot ten and around 180 pounds. He wore jeans and a long-sleeved khaki work shirt. He was holding some kind of bucket.

  But all of those details fell away when she allowed herself to look at his face—or tried to. He was wearing a circular hat, almost like a safari hat. But hanging from the brim was some kind of tinted netting that made it impossible to see his features. After a second she grasped what it was—a beekeeper’s mask. She wasn’t sure why, but the realization made her spine run cold.

  She looked quickly at the bucket in his hands, wondering if there was a beehive inside it. But when he placed it beside her, she saw that it was filled with some kind of stew. He grabbed something from his back pocket and Jessica flinched in fearful anticipation. But it was only a plastic water bottle. He unscrewed the top and placed the bottle next to the bucket.

  He moved behind her and she lost sight of him, unsure what he was doing. Without speaking, he began to adjust her handcuffs. After a moment it became clear what he had done. Her left hand was still attached to the pole but her right hand was now loose and apparently free to drink and to scoop some of the stew from the nearby bucket.

  She reached for the bottle, ignoring the mix of pain and numbness the movement caused, and immediately began to chug. Some of it went down the wrong pipe and she coughed for a while, gasping to regain her breath.

  Once she had finished the whole thing, she turned her attention to the bucket. Dipping her finger into the mixture, she discovered the stew had been heated but wasn’t so hot that she couldn’t scoop up chunks in her hand and eat it. She looked up at the man, who was staring down at her silently.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  He continued to stare, saying nothing. She wanted to stare him down, to pretend that she wasn’t scared. But what was the point? She couldn’t see his face. She had no idea what his expression was. And her stomach was growling. Eventually she gave up and pulled the bucket toward her.

  The taste was bland but not objectionable. She thought she could identify potatoes, carrots, and maybe even ground beef. She didn’t know what time it was or how long it had been since she last ate but she was terribly hungry and it took everything she had to restrain herself from just shoving mounds of the goopy food in her mouth.

  The man left the room, leaving the door partly open, and was gone for several minutes. She knew he had returned because she heard some sort of mumbling in the hall. At first she couldn’t even identify it as language but as he got closer she was able to make out a few words, like “sin, “punishment,” and “redeemer.”

  As he got closer, she was able to recognize complete sentences. But his low growly voice was hard to understand and the words didn’t seem to make any sense at all.

  “Purify the body, purify the soul. Till the soil until it runs red. Serve the redeemer by bringing the light of his vengeance into full flower. The dirty have been defiled. The defiled shall return to dirt.”

  She could see him now. He was backing into the room, dragging something heavy behind him. When it came into view, Jessica saw that it was a large burlap sack, likely the same material that was used to make the dress she wore now.

  He dragged the sack over to the corner of the room next to the skeleton. And then, unceremoniously and without any word, he lifted the sack by the bottom. Something dropped out and landed with a thud beside the skeleton before rolling a couple of feet in Jessica’s direction.

  Even in the dim light, she saw what it was—a girl about her age, maybe a little older. She was wearing a tiny black skirt and a pink tube top. Her face was heavily made up but she had clearly been crying as her mascara ran down her cheeks, making her look like some kind of sad clown.

  It wasn’t until the man in the beekeeper’s mask made the sign of the cross that Jessica fully comprehended the fact that girl wasn’t just unconscious—she was dead.

  Suddenly, her stomach lurched and she felt the stew rise in her mouth. She tried to reach for the bucket but didn’t grab it in time. Vomit spewed everywhere, including all over her. When she was done, she tried to scream but only a little squeak came out.

  The man glanced at her briefly. Even though she couldn’t see his expression, she could tell he was disgusted by her. He left the room, leaving her to stare at the cold, lifeless body of the teenage girl ten feet from her. Jessica saw that her lips were blue and her skin was chalky white. How had she not realized the girl was dead right away?

  The man returned and she saw that he was holding a hose. Even though she knew what was coming, Jessica couldn’t help but recoil as the cold spray struck her body. He hit her full blast and the sting of the freezing jet of water took her breath away. After she was drenched, the man sprayed the vomit so that it mostly went down the drain a few feet from her.

  The beekeeper finally turned off the water and left, slamming the door behind him. Jessica heard the multiple locks snap shut and the sound of his footsteps drift down the hall. Even after she knew he was gone, she sat there, too scared to speak, shivering silently as water dripped off her soaked, homemade burlap dress.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Keri rifled through the list on her desk for what felt like the hundredth time. She sensed the frustration rising in her chest and before she could stop herself, she took her coffee mug and threw it against a nearby filing cabinet. It shattered, sending dozens of ceramic chunks all over the precinct bullpen’s floor.

  “Sorry,” she said to no one in particular, even though she wasn’t. It was 8 a.m. and she’d been poring over a list of local sex offenders with zero success.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Ray said and motioned to Roger Gentry, the officer from last night who was scolded by Hillman for using specific location names over the radio at the drop the night before.

  “Yes, Detective?” Gentry said, excited to be noticed.

  “Yeah, Gentry. I’ve got an important job for you. Find a broom and dustpan and clean this stuff up.”

  “Yes, Detective,” Gentry said, the enthusiasm gone from his voice.

  “You hitting brick walls too?” Ray asked Keri sympathetically.

  “Yeah. I’ve already looked at all the janitors and bus drivers the school contracts with. Not a single hit. I mean, that’s good as far as student safety is concerned. But it doesn’t help us much. And reviewing these sex offender files feels like a waste of time. If this guy had been arrested before, we’d know about it. He’s not the sort who can hide his crazy under a bush.”

  “Keri, look around,” Ray said. “Everyone else has gone home for a nap. The only reason you’re still here is because of what Tim Rainey said. You feel like taking a break would be failing Jessica.”

  “It kind of would, Ray.”

  “No,” he replied. “Running in circles when you’re too exhausted to think is failing her. Getting a few hours’ sleep so that you can come back at this fresh may actually give her a better shot. Please, go home, even if it’s only for a little while. Lie in your bed. Give yourself a little down time. I’ll even drive you.”

  Keri pushed her chair back from the desk and took a deep breath.

  He’s right. I’m no good to Jessica like this. I need to get away for a bit, get a fresh perspective.

  “Fair enough,” she said. “I’m going to step away for a bit. Thanks for the ride offer but I think I’m good. I kind of need
to be alone anyway.”

  She got up, grabbed her purse, and started for the exit.

  “Keri…” Ray said.

  She turned around to look at him and could tell he was wrestling with what to say. Then his expression changed and she knew he’d decided not to go with his original thought.

  “Just cut yourself a break, okay?” he pleaded.

  “Okay,” she said, too tired to argue even though she didn’t feel she deserved a break. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  She left the station and got in her car. She felt her lids getting heavy and worried she might fall asleep right there. Instead, she grabbed her phone and called someone she’d been meaning to reach out to for hours now.

  “Margaret Merrywether here.”

  Keri smiled at the familiar southern accent of her good friend.

  “Mags,” she said. “It’s Keri. I’m about to do something incredibly stupid and I need your help.”

  “When and where, darling?” Mags asked without hesitation.

  “I need you to help me get in touch with the Black Widower,” she said, referencing the assassin-for-hire who had killed the man holding Evie and taken her to an unknown destination.

  Mags didn’t respond right away and Keri knew she was determining how best to calibrate her answer.

  “You know I tried that, dear,” Mags said compassionately. “He never responded. What makes you think he will now?”

  “Because I think he uses a password to make sure anyone he interacts with is vetted. You didn’t have it so he dismissed you. But I think I know what it is.”

  “What?”

  “Weeds,” Keri said. “I think he’s going to ask a question and the answer will involve the word ‘weeds.’”

  “How did you learn this?” Mags asked, her curiosity bubbling over.