Authors: Mariah Stewart
“What would we say to them?” Suse asked.
“We could ask how long she’s lived there. Did she have the child when she moved in? Or did she have him after she moved here? Had she been visibly pregnant?”
“You’d make a good investigator,” she told him. “Those are good questions.”
“You’re humoring me.” Robert got out of the back seat, and before Susanna could react, he’d opened the driver’s side door and got in. She breathed an audible sigh of relief.
“Yes, I am,” she acknowledged without shame. “I’m trying to give Kevin some time to talk to this woman.”
They watched as Kevin approached the woman—Carole Woolum—and began to talk to her. He leaned down and said something to Ian, and the boy reached out and touched his hand.
“Jesus, how long do I have to sit and watch this?” Robert held his hands across his abdomen as if he were in pain.
“As long as it takes, Rob. Till Kevin tells us otherwise.”
Kevin and the woman talked for a few more minutes, then she picked up the boy and started inside.
“What’s she doing? What do you suppose Kevin said to her? Do you think he tipped our hand?” Robert worried aloud.
“Relax, Rob.” She wanted to reach out to him, but knew now was not the time. He was fixated on the boy, who had dark curls much like Ian had had.
It must be killing him
, she thought.
She started to say exactly that, when there was a rapping on the driver’s side window. Rob and Susanna both turned to look at the same time. A police officer stood next to the car, gesturing to them to roll down the window.
“Hello, officer,” Robert greeted him with a friendly smile.
“May I see some identification?” The officer was not smiling.
“Sure.” Somewhat confused, Robert pulled his wallet from his pants pocket and handed over his driver’s license. The officer looked at it, then leaned closer to the window.
“You too, miss,” he told Susanna, who promptly handed over her own license, which he scrutinized as closely as he had Robert’s. He walked back to the car and handed them through the window to the officer who sat behind the wheel.
“What do you suppose is going on?” Susanna asked Robert.
“Maybe one of the neighbors called about a strange car being parked on the street here,” Robert said. “Or maybe someone was concerned when they saw Kevin go into the house. Maybe there have been burglaries in the neighborhood and people are being overly cautious. In any case, I’m betting the police were called by someone right around here.” He looked across the street. “My money’s on the woman hiding behind the post on the porch over there. I think we need to think of something fast, unless of course you think we should tell him the truth?”
“We don’t know what Kevin is telling Carole Woolum right now.”
The officer returned to their car.
“Is there a problem, Officer”—Robert looked at the cop’s nametag—“Simpson?”
“May I ask what you’re doing here?” Officer Simpson asked.
Robert turned to Susanna, who was as unprepared as he was to answer the question.
“Sir? Your purpose here in this neighborhood?”
When neither answered, the officer waved to his partner, still in the car, presumably checking out their licenses.
“I’m going to have to ask you both to step out of the vehicle,” Simpson said.
“Officer, I think I can explain—” Robert started but was cut off.
“You can explain down at the station. Right now, you’re going to have to come with me.”
W
hile a casual observer might have assumed that his singular focus on the altar during Drew Novak’s funeral had been an expression of either devotion or grief—possibly both—Steve Molino’s focus had actually been on trying to figure out how to get to Sam DelVecchio in the midst of all these people. It would be a challenge, he knew, but the time had come, and he had to do what he had to do. When the mass ended and the coffin was being wheeled down the center aisle accompanied by incense and six pallbearers—Drew’s brothers and cousins—he looked across the way and met Sam’s eyes. He saw the cold flash of recognition there, saw the hard resolve in Sam’s face, felt the bold challenge, and he knew it would end today for one of them.
He preferred that it be Sam.
Well aware that Sam wasn’t going to do anything that could end with someone else getting hurt, Steve took his time easing out of the church. He was halfway to the door when he figured it out. The woman Sam had introduced to him the other day had slipped out the side door, which told Steve several
things. One, that she was one of several agents in the church, so the others must be covering different exits; two, that she’d be easier to take than Sam; and three, that Sam would come to find her, thereby eliminating Steve’s problem of how to get to Sam. Sam would come to him.
He leaned close to his wife’s ear and whispered, “I’ll meet you at the cemetery.”
“All right,” she replied. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay for the entire graveside service, though. The mass lasted longer than I expected. I told work I’d be back before closing.”
“Good thing we drove separately.” He kissed her on the cheek. “See you later at home.”
Steve glanced back to locate Sam in the crowd, and was pleased to see that his ear was being bent by Josie Singletary. He knew from experience that once she latched on to you, she was like a remora. He ducked his head and made his way forward in the crowd, then shot out the side door. The chances were very good that Sam didn’t see the move.
“Hi,” he called to the agent he thought of as “Sam’s woman.” “Fiona, was it? I’m Steve Molino. We met at the football field the other day.”
“Oh. Right. Steve.” She clearly did not wish to be distracted. Good, he thought. Her attention was divided.
“How long will you be staying in town?” he asked as he moved toward her.
“What?” She only half turned. “I’m not really sure.”
“Wrong answer,” he said as he jammed the barrel of his handgun into the center of her back. “The correct
answer is, probably for eternity. Unless, of course, Sam and I work out a little deal. But we can discuss those details later.”
She started to turn and he rammed the gun into her right kidney.
“Don’t be stupid, Fiona. You’re going to toss that Glock onto the ground.”
She looked into his eyes, then did as she was told. Without taking his eyes off her, he reached down and grabbed her gun. Sticking it into his belt, he waved his own gun and said, “Turn around. That’s good. Now walk as if you and I are chatting in a friendly manner. Smile, damn it. And do not doubt for one second that I would hesitate to blow a hole in you big enough for Father O’Malley to drive a golf cart through.”
She walked slightly ahead of him, along the narrow path that ran next to the church, and when they came to a parking lot he told her to turn to the left and head for the gray sedan parked at the opposite end. Beyond the lot was a playground.
“Don’t think about making a run for it,” he told her. “Because if you think I wouldn’t shoot into a crowd of kids you’d be sadly mistaken. I’ve waited too long for this. Want to know how long?”
“Sure.”
He opened the door and shoved her in. “Twenty-six years.”
He pointed to her handbag. “Hand that to me. Slowly.”
She did as she was told.
“Now strap yourself in.”
When she’d done so, he walked around to the
driver’s side and opened the door. Setting her bag on his seat, he looked through it, tossing her phone over his shoulder. It bounced off the hood of another car and slid across the macadam. Then he tossed her bag onto the back seat and got behind the wheel.
“I know cell phones can be traced,” he told her. “Maybe you were hoping that Sam would be able to track you down, play the hero? Well, believe me, Sam’s no hero.”
He drove several miles out of town, turning only once, onto a dirt road that led into thick woods.
“I’m trying to decide which would hurt him more,” he said after he turned off the engine. “Do I want to bury you alive, then watch Sam frantically try to find you before it’s too late? And then when he shows up, kill him? Or maybe I should just ask him if he’d take your place in the box. What do you think, Fiona? Which would be worse?”
“I really don’t know,” she said, and he laughed out loud.
“Well, we need to keep in mind that today’s theme is bury the dead.”
He got out of the car and came around to her side, then motioned with the gun for her to get out and stand facing the car. His eyes never leaving her, he reached into the back seat and brought out a length of rope. After tying her hands behind her back, he turned her around.
“Isn’t that the way you law enforcement people do it? Secure the suspect’s hands behind their back to take away any use of their arms to attack you or to escape?” He drew closer to her and sniffed at her hair. “You smell good, Fiona. Does Sam like that scent?”
He ran the barrel of the gun down the front of her shirt, his eyes staring into hers. “You’re good, you know that? You never even blinked. I like that. Shows you’ve got balls. I’ll bet Sam likes that, too. He always admired the spunky girls.”
He grabbed her by the arm and turned her toward the trees.
“We’re going to take a stroll through the woods.”
“Why Sam?” she asked.
“Because he ruined my life,” Steve said matter-of-factly, “and now I’m going to ruin his.”
Sam stood outside the church, searching for Fiona on the crowded sidewalk. He saw Luke, and waved him over.
“I know who the killer is,” he said quietly. “We’re going to take him at the cemetery.”
“Who is he?”
“His name is Steve Molino. I don’t see him right now, but he’ll be relatively easy to spot out in the open. His wife is a tall pretty redhead.”
“There’s a woman with hair like that behind you and off to the right,” Luke said. “She’s talking to two men. Describe Molino.”
“My age and height, brown hair thinning at the front, average build.”
“The one guy with her is in his sixties, the other is about five eight. What’s he wearing, did you notice?”
“Dark suit, white shirt, like nearly every other guy here.”
“Yeah, that narrows it down. Did you notice the tie?”
“It was dark red. Or maroon.”
“I don’t see a red tie.”
“He knows I know, Luke,” Sam told him.
“You sure?”
Sam nodded. “But he acted like he knew I wasn’t going to move inside the church.”
“So he must have bolted as soon as he got outside. Why don’t I just follow the wife to the car and see if we can nab him there?” Before Sam could respond, Luke said, “By
we
I mean me and my fellow federal officers. That
we
did not include thee.”
“Spoilsport.”
“If you’re nice to me, maybe I’ll give you a few minutes alone with the guy.”
The crowd began to thin as the hearse and the cars carrying the family pulled away from the curb. Sam watched as the other mourners got into their cars and fell in line with the procession. He did not find Steve Molino in any of them.
“Luke, do you see Fiona?” Sam asked.
Luke made a 360 degree turn. “No. She’s not here.”
Sam glanced over the diminished crowd. “Steve’s not here either, and I didn’t see him get into a car.” He took his phone from his pocket and turned it back on, then dialed Fiona’s cell. There was no answer. “This is not good.”
“There’s a lot out back,” Sam recalled. “And I think a park. She was seated on that side of the church. Maybe she went out that door and decided to look out back.”
They hurried down the walk that separated the church from the rectory, and walked through the cars on the lot.
“This is weird,” Sam told Luke as they went toward the playground. “I don’t like this.”
He speed-dialed her number again. They were almost to the end of the lot when he heard what sounded like her ring tone. Sam stopped and looked around. The sound was coming from behind a Volkswagen Rabbit that was parked next to the fence. He stepped around the car and saw the phone on the ground. He knelt down, picked it up and scanned through the numbers.
“This is her phone. Here, the last call is from me.” He looked up at Luke. “I called her right before I went into the church.”
Luke glanced around anxiously.
“If he hurts her, I will tear him apart,” Sam said.
“No problem, man,” Luke told him. “I’ll hold him down. But first we have to find him.”
Sam fought back the anger and tried to keep his focus on where Steve would have taken Fiona, and how to get her back without getting her killed.
“He’s going to make me come to him,” Sam said.
“We don’t know for certain that he’s taken her, though it appears likely. We don’t know for sure that he isn’t at the cemetery and that Fiona is with one of the other guys.”
“She wouldn’t have tossed her phone away. Give me your car keys.” Sam held out his hand. “Catch up with the others and see if she’s with them. Let me know if she is. If not, get to the cemetery and see if you can locate Molino. If he isn’t there, get his cell phone number from his wife and have it tracked ASAP.”
“What are you going to do?” Luke hesitated, as if reluctant to hand over the keys.
“I think I know where he’s taken her.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
Ignoring the question, Sam took the keys and broke into a run. He couldn’t explain to Luke how he knew. It would simply take too long. “Where’s your car?”
“It’s out front. But Sam, I don’t think—”
“Call me from the cemetery, let me know if he’s there. I could be wrong … but I don’t think I am.”
Sam trotted off to find the car, and Luke followed.
“Sam, at least tell me where you’re going.”
They got to the car and Sam unlocked it. “I’ll draw you a map from the cemetery. What do you have to write with in here?”
He leaned into the car and came out holding a bag from a fast food restaurant, then searched his pockets for a pen.
Luke handed him one, and Sam quickly sketched a map. “It’s easy enough to find.”
He handed over the bag and got into the car.
“You think he took her to this lake?”
Sam nodded. “If he isn’t at the cemetery, this is where he’s most likely to be. This way, we have both places covered. But if he isn’t at either, Fiona’s a dead woman.”