All the Pretty Faces (32 page)

The panic clawing at Dane mimicked the fear he’d had the night he’d called Betsy for hours to check on her, and she hadn’t answered.

She’d been dead.

His lungs squeezed. Josie couldn’t be.

He found the security guard who’d worked at the center and explained the situation. “Did you see Olive Turnstyle or Josie DuKane?”

The guard shook his head no.

“Help me search the building. If you see either one of them, don’t try to stop them yourself. Call me. The Turnstyle woman is dangerous.”

The guard went one way, and he hurried the opposite direction, searching every room in the building. Nothing.

Which car belonged to Olive?

He phoned Peyton. “Issue an APB for Olive Turnstyle, aka Nate or Naomi Leakes’s vehicle.”

The sound of keys clicking in the background told him she was at work. “On it. She drives a 2015 Ford Escape. Gray.”

Dane ran to the front of the building and searched the parking lot. Fuck. “Her car is still here.”

“She must be in the building.”

“No, I’ve searched inside.” He scanned the lot again, his pulse hammering. “Wait. Easton’s work van is gone. She could have taken it. Find the tag number.”

Jesus, God, the van had been there when he’d arrived. He’d just missed them. “Copy that.” Keys clicked again. “Hang on, Dane.”

He jiggled his foot. They had to find Josie in time to save her. “Check and see if the Turnstyle woman or Leakes owns any property, a house, cabin, someplace she might take Josie. Someplace she could have killed her other victims.”

“Doing it as we speak.”

“Thanks. I’m going back to the jail to question Easton and Grimley again. If they know anything, I’ll make them talk.” Hell, he’d beat the answers out of them.

The security guard shook his head as Dane approached. “I didn’t find anyone. The place is empty.”

“If either of them shows up, call me.” He shoved a business card in the man’s hand and jogged toward his car. The last victim had been left at the Falls Inn.

He phoned the owner as he drove toward the jail and explained.

“I can’t believe that nice young woman would hurt anyone,” Cynthia said. “She was so sweet.”

“Let me know if she or Josie turns up.” Panicked, he slammed down the phone and hit the accelerator.

Josie’s argument about Grimley being framed taunted him. If only he’d listened, hadn’t been so stubborn, so sure he was right. But they had been looking for a man, and Olive had dressed and presented herself as a woman.

The woman she’d wanted to be.

She’d also befriended Josie. Probably so she could keep abreast of the case.

She’d cleverly orchestrated everything, planting false clues along the way to lead them to Grimley.

When he reached the jail, he swerved into a parking spot and hurried inside. Sheriff Kimball was on the phone, but Dane motioned for him to hang up. “I need your help, Sheriff.”

Kimball nodded. “Just tell me what to do.”

Dane relayed what had happened. “Back me up.”

Kimball nodded again and went to get the prisoners.

Both men remained shackled and chained as they shuffled in the interrogation room. Grimley looked ragged, a shell of a man, his professional façade gone.

Easton appeared slightly calmer, although animosity simmered beneath that calm. “When are you letting me go?” Easton said. “You’ve had your twenty-four hours.”

Dane folded his arms. He had to release the man, but he needed him to talk first. “Tell me about Olive Turnstyle.”

“What?” Easton frowned, and Grimley looked baffled. Having to turn to the man who’d killed his sister made Dane’s stomach sour. But he had a job to do, and he’d damn well do it or more lives would be lost. Josie’s, for one.

She was too important to let his animosity toward Grimley get in the way.

“Her real name is Nate/Naomi Leakes,” Dane said. “Something happened during her surgery, and she was left scarred.” He directed his gaze toward Grimley. “How am I doing so far?”

Grimley drummed his fingers on his leg. “She had a bad drug interaction and—”

“And you’d developed a tremor so your hand wasn’t steady,” Dane said. “You shouldn’t have been operating.”

Grimley squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers, the tremor evident. “It was an accident, a mistake. I . . . My insurance settled.”

“Leakes wasn’t satisfied with money, was he—she?” Dane asked sarcastically. “She wanted to be one of the pretty girls you made beautiful.”

Grimley merely nodded.

“She was scarred and knew she’d lose roles.” Dane relied on logic—at least as he saw it through Leakes’s eyes. “Now she’s stuck on the sidelines casting other women in roles she wanted to play.”

Easton cleared his throat. “What does this have to do with me?”

Dane turned his gaze on the photographer. “You played into these women’s fantasies and referred them to Grimley. My guess is that you referred Naomi to him.”

Easton shifted uncomfortably, his handcuffs clanging. “So? Those women wanted cosmetic work. They wanted to stand out. And Nate—Naomi—wanted help. I figured it would be challenging, but Dr. Grimley is the best.”

“Only he botched it,” Dane finished.

Grimley became agitated, rocking his chair back and forth as he turned to Easton. “You knew Naomi was here? That she was this Olive woman?”

Easton muttered a curse. “Yes, but I felt sorry for him—her. She was trying to get her act together, trying to move forward. She used a different name so no one would know about the transgender surgery.” He threw up his hands, his voice emphatic. “Good God. I never suspected that she’d kill anyone, or that she was framing you for murder.”

Silence fell for a full minute, each man working to figure out if the other was lying about his knowledge of Olive. Dane was doing the same thing.

He’d never once considered the casting director as a suspect, never suspected she was a man. Because he’d been looking for Betsy’s killer, and Easton and Grimley both had connections to his sister. He had been so focused on that aspect that he’d missed the signs that the killer wasn’t the same.

Guilt threatened to bring him to his knees. Josie was in danger because of him.

“How did Olive know about your past, Grimley?” Dane asked. “About how you got your scars?”

“Fuck,” Easton said in a strangled voice. “I told her.”

“You did what?” Grimley shot up from his seat. “That was confidential.”

“I’m sorry,” Easton said. “We had drinks and got to talking. She asked how I knew you, and the story just came out. I thought it would help her forgive you.”

Grimley dropped back in his seat and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

“That explains that,” Dane said. “This is the important part.” He leaned forward, hands on the table. “I believe she’s abducted Josie DuKane and that Josie is in danger. Where would she take her?”

Easton and Grimley exchanged confused, blank looks.

“I don’t know,” Easton said.

“She’s based solely in LA,” Dr. Grimley said.

Dane rapped his knuckles on the table, fighting despair. “Think, is there any place significant to her?”

Grimley shook his head. “No. She didn’t have family that I know of.”

Dane’s phone buzzed that he had a text. He quickly checked it.

Easton’s van spotted driving east into the mountains. Have alerted authorities.

Dane clenched the phone in a death grip. “She’s been spotted driving your van, Easton, heading into the mountains.”

“Good God,” Grimley muttered.

Dane gritted his teeth. “What?”

“I know where she’s going.” He paled. “To the house where I grew up.”

Dane’s blood went cold.

To the place she’d described in the blog she’d written under Grimley’s name.

To the cage where she planned to watch her last victim die.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Josie stirred from unconsciousness and blinked against the darkness. The wind must be strong now because the van was blowing all over the road.

Cold terror seized her as reality returned.

Olive was the Butcher.

She blinked and tried to move her arms and legs, but they refused to work. Olive had injected Josie with that paralyzing drug so she couldn’t fight back.

Charity and Patty and Neesie must have felt this same fear.

The van bounced over a bump, jarring her teeth, and she fought a scream. No one could hear her. She’d have to bide her time, pick the right moment to fight.

Only how could she fight if she couldn’t move?

Where was Olive taking her?

She choked back a sob. She had to stall until Dane could find her.

Dane.
Did he even know she was missing?

Despair threatened to swallow her. Dane believed he had the Butcher in custody. He hadn’t wanted to hear what she had to say.

For all she knew, he could have already moved Grimley to a federal facility and left town himself.

Tears pooled in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks, but she was helpless to wipe them away.

She didn’t want to die.

Dane turned onto the dirt road leading to Grimley’s childhood home, praying he was right, that Olive was taking Josie to that house.

Wind swirled through the trees, shaking them and kicking up dust. The mountain ridges still held hints of snow on the sharp peaks, yet the sky looked gloomy, dark storm clouds rolling across the mountaintops, the air chilled and filled with the smell of impending rain.

Or a tornado.

The SUV’s tires churned over the uneven dirt and rocks, leaving Graveyard Falls behind and taking him farther into the mountains and away from civilization. Trees rose like giants, some so close together, their branches thick and wound together as if they’d linked arms to keep intruders out. At one point the big limbs twisted and intertwined, creating a tunnel effect, as if he was driving into a dark forest where he might be swallowed and never emerge.

Grimley’s father must have liked the isolation. He’d needed space, land, the wilderness, to rescue and raise the raptors. Living off the grid had also afforded him enough privacy so no one would see how he was treating his son.

Dane pushed aside sympathy for the way Grimley had been tormented as a kid. It didn’t excuse his crimes, and it certainly wouldn’t keep him from prison.

Thunder rumbled louder, and lightning streaked the sky in jagged lines. He pressed the accelerator, eating the miles as he delved deeper into the woods.

His phone beeped. The sheriff’s number. He connected. “Agent Hamrick.”

“Are you there yet?”

Dane checked the GPS, his agitation rising. “No, but I’m getting close.”

“I’m behind you a few miles.”

Dane thanked him and hung up. He wanted backup, but he couldn’t wait. It was his fault Josie was in trouble. If only he’d listened to her, hadn’t cut her off, hadn’t been so intent on putting Grimley away on as many charges as possible, he would have seen the truth.

The memory of her drawing him into her arms and comforting him the night he’d talked to his mother made him ache. She had been so loving and generous, so compassionate and—passionate.

He wanted to hold her again. To comfort her and soothe her nightmares and make up for pushing her away.

He wanted to make love to her.

If he lost her to this madman—madwoman—he’d never forgive himself.

He checked his weapon, battling despair. He would not lose her.

But if Olive had hurt her, he’d kill her.

Josie tried to lift her finger. Move a toe. Her hand. Her body was weighted down as if it was asleep. She tried to scream, but even her vocal cords seemed paralyzed.

Olive grabbed her by the arms and dragged her from the van. Josie’s body hit the graveled dirt with a thud. She looked up, eyes pleading with Olive to let her go.

Olive simply jerked her along like she was a sack of potatoes, heedless of the dirt and rocks tearing at Josie’s skin and clothes.

Out of her peripheral vision, Josie spotted an old shack, then a big cage.

This was the house where Dr. Grimley had grown up. The cage where he’d been locked like a wild animal, where he’d been attacked.

The cage was empty now, but if Olive killed her, the vultures would sniff her blood and have her for dinner.

Olive gave her a twisted smile. “I really hate to do this, Josie. I liked you. You weren’t like all those wannabes with their fake boobs and plastic smiles. You were real.”

Josie tried to speak, but her voice came out as a moan.

“I know what you’re thinking, that if I let you go, you won’t talk. Only you will talk. You’re the type that has to be honest, that has to fight for justice. I like that.” Olive’s voice wavered as she dragged Josie toward the cage. “That’s the reason I had to come after Grimley. I needed justice, too.”

“P-Please,” Josie cried, although the word was a mere screech.

Olive shoved the door of the cage open with one foot and dragged Josie inside.

“I know Grimley is in jail, and when they find your body, the police will realize that he didn’t kill you. No one will find you out here. At least not for a while. By then I’ll be long gone.”

A tear spilled over onto Josie’s cheek, then another and another.

Olive was right.

“Besides, if I’m lucky,” Olive said in an almost wistful tone, “there won’t be enough left of your body to identify you.”

Josie’s heart clenched with fear as Olive tied ropes around her feet and hands and attached them to the posts of the cage. Terrified, she struggled again, but to no avail.

Olive moved over her and raised a scalpel. “Don’t worry, Josie, I won’t leave a scar on your face. I’ll make this as quick and painless as possible.”

Dane spotted Easton’s van parked in front of the old wooden house, then a cage and Olive standing over Josie. The damn woman was holding the scalpel, ready to strike.

Terror coiled inside him, and he sped his vehicle down the drive and screeched to a stop near the cage.

One quick wound to the aorta and he wouldn’t be able to save Josie.

He threw his car into park, grabbed his gun, checked the ammo, then jumped from the driver’s side. “Stop it, Olive, it’s over!”

She didn’t react. She seemed too focused on what she was doing—or lost in a world of delusions.

The wind blew dust up, swirling it like a funnel cloud. Taking advantage of the fact that she didn’t realize he was there, he eased inside the cage.

Olive lowered the scalpel and traced it over Josie’s chest, ripping her blouse open and drawing blood.

His heart nearly stopped beating altogether. Josie was tied spread-eagle on the ground, her eyes full of fear. He motioned to her to be quiet, but Olive jerked her head toward him.

He aimed his gun at her, but she lunged forward, waving the scalpel at him. He knocked it from her hand and sent it flying across the ground. Olive dived for it with a bellow. He fired a shot, but she rolled out of the way, grabbed the scalpel, and swung it at his leg. It nicked his ankle and blood seeped from the cut, but he ignored the pain and raised his weapon again.

“Olive. It’s over.”

“Grimley got what was coming to him,” she shouted.

“Maybe, but Josie doesn’t deserve to die.” Neither did the other women she’d killed. He couldn’t save them, though.

“Move and I’ll shoot.”

“Go ahead.” She raised the scalpel toward herself. “My life is over anyway.”

“It didn’t have to be that way,” Dane said. “You chose this path.”

Josie made a strangled sound, and Dane glanced at her to see if she was all right. Olive moved quickly, tearing at his face like a wild animal.

Dane didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger.

Shock darkened her eyes as her body bounced back. Blood gushed from her chest. She clenched the wound with one hand, then collapsed onto the dirt. Dane patted her down to make sure she didn’t have another weapon.

Josie cried out again, a sob escaping her. All Dane could think about was going to her.

A car rumbled up the drive a second later, and the sheriff appeared. He climbed out and rushed toward them.

“Call an ambulance,” Dane yelled. He knelt by Olive. “How did you plant that evidence in Grimley’s car?”

A twisted chuckle rumbled from her. “It was easy. I flirted with the valet, told him I wanted to leave a surprise for my boyfriend, and he gave me the keys.” Her sinister laugh faded to a hollow sound. “He believed I was Grimley’s girlfriend.”

She looked pale and glassy-eyed, her body convulsing. He doubted she’d make it, but he didn’t care.

All he cared about was Josie.

Josie sobbed, well aware the sound resembled an injured animal’s cry more than her own voice, but the drugs still held her prisoner.

Any effort she made to move was futile.

Dane knelt beside her. “It’s okay, I’m here. An ambulance is on its way.”

She blinked to let him know that she understood. His poor mother must feel this way, trapped in a world of pain and silence.

He stroked her hair away from her face. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you, I’m so sorry.”

She understood that, too. She just wanted to be set free. She used all her energy to move, and finally her fingers fluttered.

Dane yanked a knife from his pocket and quickly cut the ropes. Then he lifted her beneath her shoulders and pulled her into his arms.

Tears of relief spilled down her cheeks as he rocked her in his lap and held her.