First Born (23 page)

“I don’t have their samples.” Tiny looked over his yellow frames at Caldwell.

“They didn’t show?” Caldwell held his breath.

Tiny shook his head and darted his eyes to Lake.

“Shit!” Caldwell put a hand to his head, trying to massage out the knot that had just formed at his temple.

Lake tilted his head and stared at Caldwell.

“Ewww. They gonna run?” Tiny asked.

Caldwell and Lake locked eyes.

“We better check in with those two,” Lake said, tossing the ball back in the middle of his desk.

Caldwell stood up, grabbed his cell phone from his pocket, and shuffled through the file in front of him. He attempted every number he had for Jones and Harding, getting no response. He pulled his things together getting ready to bolt.

Lake put a call into an Atlanta patrol officer to go over to the Ansley Park house.

“Stay put,” commanded Lake. “Wait until we get word. No sense going off like a blind bird in a hail storm.”

Caldwell froze. They all had birds on the brain. And dogs. And sexy Asian chicks—okay that might just be him.

“Let’s talk about the Liu scene,” Lake said, not blinking. “Tiny?” Caldwell sat down on the edge of the office chair.

“We’ve been coordinating with the Kennesaw PD. The rain and chaos compromised the scene. Still working on the tire tread pattern for the perp who according to Caldwell fled from behind the barn. It was mud soup back there and there were so many previous tracks from tractors, farm equipment Liu used—we’ll have to see what we can get. We were able to decipher tread on the motorcycle presumably used by Lily Moore to flee. It’s consistent with a sport bike,” Tiny said.

“What about the blood in the studio?” Lake asked.

“Blood type matches Moore’s and Liu’s but it will be at least a week before we get full DNA results. There were cast off and drips of blood, consistent with stabbing, in the kitchen area which we believe are Liu’s. Can’t be sure if Liu was shot as well. We just recovered one bullet from the wall by the sliding door. There was some blood spatter in the hallway of the studio. Not enough trajectory to indicate gunshot. Could be from blunt force trauma.

“Ballistics come back?” Lake asked.

“Bullet found went through a thick tapestry on the wall so it was remarkably intact. No blood found on it, just fibers. Ballistics identified it as a .45 caliber hollow point. Markings on the bullet suggest it was fired from a polygonal barrel. No casings were retrieved from the scene. There is GSR on the clothing and wig that we suspect belonged to Lily Moore. Long dark strands of hair on the inside of the wig are most likely hers. Blood all over the items matches her blood type.”

“The wig definitely Moore’s?” Caldwell asked. He tried to control his voice from cracking.

“Looks that way,” said Tiny.

“GSR on Moore’s clothing could indicate she fired a weapon,” Lake said.

“She wasn’t holding a gun,” Caldwell said.

“You don’t know she didn’t have one on her,” Lake said. “Or threw it off into the woods before you saw her, and we haven’t found it yet.”

Caldwell looked at Lake. “Sir, she didn’t have a gun on her. She was naked.”

Tiny shook his head. “Lieutenant, there’s a bullet hole in the torn dress. I doubt she shot herself in the shoulder. Besides, the angle of trajectory suggests a taller person; at least six foot. Moore is five foot six. Someone else was firing in the woods. Same bullets found lodged in a tree match those pulled from the studio wall. Between Kennesaw and Ernie’s hounds, that area was covered five times over. No weapon was found.”

“I don’t understand why an innocent woman is disguising herself and running from the authorities?” Lake said.

“She was injured sir. Could be amnesia, or kidnapping,” Caldwell said, his mind racing.

“The team noted size twelve
and
size nine men’s boots with Liu’s size eight and a half. The pattern suggests the perp dragged him out the front door. Moore’s trail of blood is out the back. Team says that there is only one set of footprints by the bike suggesting she was alone.” Tiny looked over at Caldwell.

There went his kidnapping theory.

“We’ve narrowed the shoe tread down to Timberland men’s work boots,” he added. “They’re as common as...”

“Tits on a Hooter’s girl,” Caldwell blurted.

Lake threw his pen down on the table. “What the hell did this girl get herself into?”

Caldwell suppressed an impulsive retort that would have gotten him in trouble. He’d reached his quota for the day. “I bet Liu knew,” he said.

“And her brother,” added Lake.

“We need to pay him a visit,” Caldwell said.

Lake nodded.

“Anything else, Tiny?’ Lake asked.

“We’ve got two perps here according to footprints. Not much in the way of fingerprints left behind. We’ve matched fingerprints on a pair of sunglasses found in the woods to Lily. We were able to lift
another
set of prints from these glasses as well. We didn’t find a match with anything in the database or from the evidence collected from suspects.”

“Thanks,” Lake said.

With that, Tiny returned to his office. Caldwell sat still in the chair, stewing. According to his dream, one of the perps was a woman, but he had no evidence to support that. The size nine Timberlands could have been a man’s.

“What are your thoughts, Simms?” Lake asked, pulling into the round meeting table.

“Just trying to figure out the second perp. We could have a man and woman working together.”

“It’s something to keep in mind. Anything else?”

“Got the search warrants for the Hitomi house, office, and lab. We need to check emails, phone numbers, lab equipment and logs. Maybe we’ll find syringes like the one at the Sinclair crime scene,” Caldwell said.

“Why don’t you follow up regarding the Jones/Harding household and Seth Moore? I’ll go into Hitomi’s with the warrant team.”

“Will do,” said Caldwell.

Lake smacked him on the shoulder as he headed out of the office.

Caldwell dialed Seth Moore’s cell phone and left him a message. The Patrol officer, who Lake asked to check the Jones/Harding residence, beeped in to let him know there was no sign of anyone at home. Caldwell called all their numbers including work numbers again. Neither man had shown up for work yesterday.

He called the patrol officer back. “Hawkes. You mind staying put? I’m on my way over. We need to take a quick glance at the property.”

“No problem,” he said.

They didn’t have a warrant yet to search the property, but both men looked along the periphery of the yard to see if anything stuck out. Caldwell leaned against the back of the house and studied the setting. His eyes scanned the stonework on the patio, followed the purple blooms of the vine climbing the arbor, took in the pink lilies on the koi pond, and stopped at the Buddha sitting resolute at the back wall. The property told of meticulous work and patience. He tried to imagine Larry Jones fleeing town. It would take a lot for a person to leave this environment.

Caldwell’s eyes travelled across the lawn once more coming to rest at the base of a purple crepe myrtle. An unnatural green glowed against the pine mulch. Two seconds later, he stood above a blood-spattered cell phone. After a quick trip to the car, Caldwell carried the bagged item with him preparing to check in with Lake. At the garage, he heard a tapping sound.

The Hughes/Quinn country property backed up to the Smithgall Woods Wildlife Preserve just outside of Helen. It took Seth and Lily several attempts to find the correct road off Alternate 75. They passed Hootenanny Hills Drive as well as Goats on the Roof Restaurant. Finally, after they turned around twice, they found Horton Creek, a narrow gravel road marked by a handmade sign that read, “Pat’s Place.” Unlike them, apparently Pat
wanted
to be found.

They drove slowly over the gravel, passing a dilapidated trailer with a propane tank. The next lot looked vacant. A green John Deere tractor sat abandoned in the center, surrounded by four weathered school buses parked helter-skelter. Wildlife had claimed the vehicles. Bird poop dotted the rusted paint. Ivy and kudzu snaked through shattered windows, and out holes in the roofs.

“Crrreeeepy,” whispered Seth.

They passed eight more abodes ranging from “cute country cottage” to “scary inbreeding zone.”

“Are you sure we are on the right road?” he asked.

“Yep.”

They drove up a steep hill coming to a fork of two driveways. The addresses were not visible. “Stay left,” she said.

Seth slammed on his brakes before three deer leapt across the road and disappeared into the woods. She could smell them. The pungent odor made her cough.

At the end of the quarter-mile drive Seth let out a low whistle as their hideout came into view. The cottage consisted of natural wood siding, enormous picture windows, a stone chimney, and wrap-around deck.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” Seth asked.

“Gee I don’t know. Maybe because breaking and entering my best friend’s family’s house just isn’t something that occurs to me normally.”

“Point taken,” he said agreeably. Seth had been manically happy since he had purged himself of all of his secrets. She was flipping-flopping through emotions faster than a politician changes platforms.

“The key may not be where they used to keep it,” Lily said.

They got out of the truck and walked alongside the house, glancing up at it as if it were watching them. They took the quaint stepping stones engraved with various quotes on them down the incline to a cement birdbath. Smiling cherubs and lambs decorated the pedestal holding the flower-shaped basin.

They stopped on either side of it.

“Cherubs always seem evil to me,” Seth said. “Look, their eyes are telling us ‘run, run away from the Quinn house.’”

She gave him a withering look. “In the last week, I’ve been attacked by a date rapist, shot, almost blown up by a necklace, and you’re scared of a bird bath?”

“Demonic bird bath covered in Georgia’s finest pollen slime.”

“Say a little prayer.” She tilted the bowl of the birdbath sloshing the yellow-green soup on to the ground. Reaching her hand between the bowl and the pedestal, she found salvation.

The silver key was old and chipped, but to Lily it looked like the rarest diamond sparkling in the sun. Seth let out a whoop. Lily did a happy dance involving a lot of butt shaking. She halted when her shoulder protested.

Seth ran back to the car while Lily dashed up the rear stairs leading on to the deck.
A hot tub!
She forced herself to run past the hot tub and around the porch swing to unlock the front door. Next to the door was a cute plaque decorated with ivy scrolling around painted letters that read, “The Quinns.” She hesitated a moment before reaching up to turn the plaque over.
There.
Now it was just a blank white plaque.

She pushed the front door open and flipped on the lights. Huge glass windows let in shafts of sunlight. Vaulted ceilings and exposed beams accented wide-plank hardwood floors. She let out a sob as she realized no more sleeping on laundry room floors or having people praise her when she took a crap.

“Dude!” Seth almost barreled her over as he came into the house carrying Walmart bags. “This is a total party pad.”

After plopping the bags down on the granite counter tops, he opened the stainless steel fridge, which was empty except for a six-pack of beer. “Thank you, beer gods,” he said as he looked up to the heavens. She just shook her head and ran down the steps to retrieve the rest of the items from the car.

When she returned, Seth sat with his shirt off downing a Fat Tire. “Are you sure they’re out of town?”

“They go every year for months. Do you see a car in the driveway?”

“No. I don’t.” He took another swig and burped. “You bring up a good point. How are you supposed to manage out here by yourself without a car?”

She scowled. Then she remembered her visits with Katie. She crossed the room to the Quinn’s junk drawer, yanked it open, and procured a garage door opener. “Aha.”

Seth followed her out the back door and noted the hot tub. “Sweeeet!” he proclaimed.

She pressed the button. “Open sesame.” The door went up. There was the ancient red Jeep Wrangler. She opened the driver’s door and sat down. Seth stood in the driveway, arms crossed, looking through the windshield at her. She felt under the driver’s floor mat, retrieved the keys, and started the car. Problem solved. Mrs. Quinn always hid keys for when friends and relatives used the cabin.

When they got inside, Seth pulled out his laptop. “I want to show you a few things.”

She sucked down an entire two liter of coke and belched. He raised his eyebrows at her. “That is really unnerving to me, Lil. It doesn’t sound—”

“Human?” she finished for him.

“Yeah.”

“One of my new Super Shih Tzu powers.”

“That will be helpful in a fight,” Seth said. He typed in tengu and turned the laptop toward her. “I think you should read this.”

She leaned in to learn more about her fate through deciphering Asian folklore.

Tiangou or “celestial dog” is a creature of Chinese legend. The Chinese describe the tiangou as a meteor or black canine monster that devoured the sun during an eclipse.

Holy crap, that’s me. I’m a canine that will eat anything.

The dog made a noise like thunder and was a harbinger of war. In Japanese culture, the tengu is a supernatural creature resembling a bird of prey. Buddhism long held them as harbingers of war.

There was a picture next to the text. Seth attempted to pull the computer away, but she latched on to it. In the picture, the creature had an old man’s face with a long red nose, not unlike that of a Proboscis monkey. “Not encouraging! My God Seth, I do not want to look like that!”

“Lily, you control your outward appearance to some extent. Koko doesn’t look like an old man. She has a magnificent beak.”

“I don’t want a beak either for crying out loud.” She turned back to the screen and continued to read.

Tengu or tiangou are considered masters in shapeshifting. They have the ability to speak telepathically and to enter dreams. In addition to flying, they can travel via teleportation. They are famous for their skill in Kung Fu and their love of the arts, particularly poetry. Over the years, their reputation has softened. However, people still consider them spirits or monsters of the mountains and forests.