Red Red Rose (22 page)

His
sweatshirt from the day before was slung over the back of my couch. I grabbed
it up and slipped it on, not caring that it wasn’t clean. It smelled like him.
I curled up on the couch, but when I shifted, something in the pocket crinkled.
I pulled out a slip of paper and unfolded it. It was a piece of stationary from
a local motel with several phone numbers scribbled on it. At first I just
folded it back up and set it on the coffee table, but after a while my
curiosity got the best of me. I looked up the phone number for the motel and
called them.

I
asked the manager on duty if Spencer Shaw was a guest. I was surprised when he
confirmed that Spencer was staying there. He asked if I wanted him to connect
me to his room, I hesitated before saying yes. He connected me, but all it did
was ring with no answer. I hung up and thought back over the conversations I’d
had with Spencer. I guess I never asked him if he lived in Bellingham, but just
assumed. He had mentioned he hadn’t been here long, but it’d been over two
months since he started coming into the shop. That was a long time to be
staying here just for business, and he never said he was here just on business.
It seemed weird that he wouldn’t mention that if he was. He had said however,
that he had to go to Everett and Seattle a few times on business. I supposed it
was possible he’d only moved here in the last couple months and was living in a
motel until he found a place. It was difficult to find a good rental in a
college town during the school year. I trusted Spencer and knew he’d call me
when he could.

I
dozed off on the couch, wrapped in his sweatshirt only to be awakened not long
after by my ringtone. I reached for my phone, hoping it was Spencer, but came
up disappointed when it was Nathan’s contact on my screen. I rejected the call,
but he just called back. The second time I answered, prepared to let him know
that if he didn’t back off I was going to talk to the cops about his obsessive
and stalkerish behavior. I didn’t quite get that far. As soon as I answered, he
started in anxiously.

“Nora,
where are you?”

“You
mean you’re not sitting outside my house?” I asked bitterly.

“What?
No. You’re at home?”

“Where
else would I be at ten-thirty at night, Nathan?”

“I
don’t know, with that guy.”

“He
has a name.”

“I
know, he’s the reason I’m calling. I need to talk to you about him.”

“No.
We’re not talking about anything. You need to listen. Stop calling me. Stop
leaving flowers. Stop showing up at my house and starting fights with my
friends, and for crying out loud stop sitting outside my house in the middle of
the night. Just stay away from me,” I cried into the phone.

“What
the hell are you talking about, Nora? Flowers? We’ve been over this, I haven’t
been sending you flowers, and I sure as hell wasn’t sitting outside your house
in the middle of the night. What is going on?”

“Quit
lying to me Nathan. I know it’s you. A neighbor saw your car outside my house
at two in the morning last night, and then flowers mysteriously showed up on my
porch while I was at work today. It’s not charming or romantic, Nathan, it’s
creepy.”

“I
swear it wasn’t me, Nora. It was probably that guy you’re with. That’s what I’m
trying to tell you. He’s bad news. I looked into him. The guy’s a piece of
work. All kinds of trouble when he was a kid; arrested multiple times for
fighting. When he turned eighteen, the courts finally told him to join up or he
was getting locked up, so he enlisted. I tried to check out his military
records but they’re sealed. There’s nothing on him, not even about his
discharge. Since getting out, he hasn’t left behind any records either, at
least not that I can access. That’s weird, Nora. No parking tickets, no credit
cards, no job. He’s flying completely under the radar.”

“So
what!”

“So
what? Why does a guy do that unless he’s hiding something? And why have the
feds been questioning him all day?”

“What?”
There was no masking the shock in my voice.

“I
was talking to Elizabeth,” at her name, my jaw reflexively tightened. “She has
info about the strangler case that the public doesn’t get to hear and she’s
been keeping tabs on it. I asked her to keep me updated, and she said they’ve
been watching your boy closely for a while and they had him in their
interrogation room all day.”

I
was shaking my head even though he couldn’t see it. “He has nothing to do with
this. You’re trying to mess with me.”

“No
I’m not. I’m trying to save your damn life, Nora!”

“And
why should I believe you? My neighbor saw you outside my house!”

“It
wasn’t me!” he yelled through the phone, and then I heard him draw in a deep
breath and let it out. “Look,” he said, much more calmly, “it couldn’t have
been me. I was with Elizabeth all night.”

I
snorted. “I’m sure you were.” Then I hung up.

I
was reeling, trying to process everything he said and sort truth from lie, but
the problem was, I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell if this was some fucked up game to
Nathan, meant to drive me away from Spencer, or if I was giving my heart away
to the wrong guy. At that thought, I was afraid I might be sick. There was just
no way. Nathan was wrong, or if he wasn’t, it was a misunderstanding. Just
because the police were talking to Spencer, didn’t make him guilty of anything.

I
needed to talk to him. The problem was he still didn’t answer his phone.

But
I knew where he was staying, and if he wasn’t there, I could always swing by
the police station and tell Detective Parker I’d changed my mind about coming
in tonight. Then I could find out what was going on.

Decision
made, I got up, not bothering to remove Spencer’s sweatshirt, and grabbed my
keys. I drove to the motel and plotted how I would convince the manager to tell
me what room he was staying in. I didn’t actually have to use any of the lies
I’d come up with, because when I pulled up to the parking lot outside the
motel, I saw him. He was climbing out of a dark grey Mustang. One that might
have looked black if it wasn’t for the lamp post he was parked under. And it
was definitely sporty.

Could
it have been Spencer that Clint saw outside my house?

More
confused than ever and unable to work up the courage to confront Spencer, I
pulled away from the motel and headed for the police station. There had to be
an explanation to all this that would make sense. One that didn’t include
Spencer being guilty of anything.

At
the police station, I asked the first officer I saw if I could speak to
Detective Parker.

“Sorry,
hun, he’s gone home for the night. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Is
the FBI agent, Monroe, still in town?”

“Can
I get your name, sweetheart?” he didn’t look like he wanted to give me any
information.

“My
name is Nora Scott. I’m supposed to meet Detective Parker in the morning.”

“Right,
I know who you are and I know Parker is anxious to speak with you, but he headed
out a while ago, and so did Monroe. They were interrogating a suspect all day
and I believe he headed back to Seattle as soon as they cut the guy loose.”

“So
he wasn’t the guy?” I asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“I
don’t know anything more than I’ve already told you, and even if I did, I’m
afraid I couldn’t tell you. They’re keeping this case pretty tight.”

“Okay,
thank you for your help,” I mumbled, disappointed that my trip down here hadn’t
resulted in any answers. “I guess I’ll be back in the morning.”

I
remembered little of walking back out to my car and driving home. I was on
autopilot, preoccupied with every possible scenario my mind was coming up with
to try and exonerate Spencer. There was just no way. Yet, he was obviously
keeping secrets. Or maybe I just hadn’t given him the chance to tell me. If the
police had him all day and only just released him, there hadn’t been much time
for him to call me.

I
pulled into my drive and shut off my car, checking my phone. He still hadn’t
called. There were several calls and unread text messages from Nathan. They
were going to remain unread.

I
locked myself up tight in the house, knowing that it was late and I should get
to bed, but feeling restless. Criminal Minds was on when I turned on the TV,
but a few minutes into the episode, I started to feel sick. I had to turn it
off. I couldn’t stomach fictional serial killers right now.

The
slip of paper on the coffee table drew my attention, and something made me pick
it up and look over the phone numbers again. I recognized Seattle’s area code
and Everett’s and then I got to the fourth number on the list and froze. How
had I missed it earlier? I’d paid more attention to the motel name than the
numbers themselves, but I knew that fourth number. It was Emily’s.

Why
did Spencer have Emily’s number, and who did the other four numbers belong to?
I returned the paper to the coffee table, fighting the temptation to call the
other numbers. It was late enough, I told myself, that chances are nobody would
answer and maybe I could just get a name from a voicemail or answering service.
Before I could really think about what I was doing, I’d grabbed my phone and
started dialing the first number. It was no longer in service. I hung up and tried
the next one. I got a name. Natasha Rhodes. The strangler’s second victim. I
hung up immediately and didn’t bother calling the rest. I already suspected who
they belonged to.

Later,
as I lay in bed, trying and failing to fall asleep, I continued to reassure
myself that there had to be an explanation I just wasn’t thinking of. I was
overreacting when I didn’t have all the facts and letting Nathan manipulate me.
That was so much easier to believe, because it was something Nathan was skilled
at. And I wanted him to be the bad guy.

I
was at the station promptly at nine the next morning, the time the detective
and I had agreed on. Both he and Agent Monroe were waiting for me. I hadn’t
heard from Spencer this morning, and I was torn about what I should tell them.
I had hoped I would talk to Spencer and he would clear everything up before I
had to come down here, but if I couldn’t get answers from him, I needed to get
them somewhere.

I
let them lead me back into the same room as last time I was here to answer
questions. Once again, Agent Monroe took the lead, asking me if I needed
anything, coffee or water. I was too nervous for even coffee this morning. My
stomach was in so many knots, but I asked for water. Parker opened the door and
sent someone to fetch it for me.

Monroe
sat across from me and Parker stood. I wasn’t sure who was going to go first,
so I decided to.

“Did
you find another connection to Emily, with um, Dana?” It was hard to get her
name out knowing she was no longer alive.

“We
were hoping you could help us with that and a few other questions we have,”
Monroe answered.

“You
want me to identify something, see if it’s Emily’s?”

“Yes,
unlike the previous four girls, Dana Winters was found fully dressed, however
none of her friends or family could identify the articles of clothing as
belonging to her, and the sizes suggest they may be someone else’s. We’re
checking with the families of the other victim’s, but we believe they may
belong to Emily. However, her parents were unsure. We were hoping that since
you were her roommate, you would be able to tell.”

I
nodded my head and swallowed thickly. “If they’re hers, I’ll know. We shared
almost everything.”

Monroe
tipped his chin to Parker who stepped out of the room.

“What
else did you want to ask me? I heard you have a suspect.”

“We’re
looking into multiple persons of interest at this time, but as of yet we
haven’t turned up anything definitive on any of them. You may be able to help
with this as well. How close are you and Spencer Shaw?”

I
calmly breathed in and out, while on the inside I was seconds from losing it.
Monroe had all but said he was a suspect. I already knew they were looking at
him, but having it confirmed shattered what little bit of denial I’d been
hanging onto. Another breath, and then I met Monroe’s questioning stare.

“I’ve
been seeing him for a couple weeks now.”

“And
how long have you known him?”

“Um,”
I stammered, “he started coming into my shop a little over a month ago, the
beginning of January.”

“So,
not long after Emily went missing?”

I
swallowed painfully at the implication. “Yes, that’s right.”

“And
he visited your shop regularly after that?”

“Yes,”
I confirmed once again. “Almost every day, but that’s not unusual. I have
several customers who come in every day.”

“Do
they all ask you out, Miss Scott?” It was clear he was trying to make a point.

“Most
don’t.”

“And
are you familiar with Shaw’s background?”

My
mind went back to the things Nathan had said last night on the phone. I shook
my head. “No, not really. I know he was in the military and he grew up in
Spokane.”

“Yes,
his military career is quite interesting, or at least the fact that all records
regarding his time in the service have been sealed. The Army refuses to release
any information, and won’t even comment on his discharge. That’s quite odd,
don’t you think?”

“I
don’t know,” I mumbled. “I don’t know much about the Army.”

“It
is strange, and so is his life since leaving the service. He hasn’t held a job,
but his bank records show a steady flow of income from a source we’ve yet to
pull up any information on. He doesn’t own a house or have his name on any
lease, but has popped up in several cities around the country since becoming a
civilian, never staying in one place for long. No credit cards, not even a cell
phone to his name. He’s like a ghost.”

That
made me sit up straighter. “But he has a cell phone. He’s called me on it, I
have the number.” He pulled a slip of paper from one of the files he had in
front of him. He slid it across to me with a pen.

“Could
you write down the number you have for him?”

I
scribbled out the number I had memorized and then set the pen down.

“What
does all this mean?”

“All
of this, Miss Scott, means that Spencer Shaw has tried very hard to leave as
few paper trails as possible.”

“Maybe
he has a good reason.”

“Or
maybe instead of straightening him out, the military only turned him into a
better killer and liar, Miss Scott. Prior to enlisting, he was a very troubled
young-man.”

I
didn’t know how much more of this I could listen to. “You said there were
multiple persons of interest you were looking at, so you aren’t sure that Spencer’s
involved in any of this?”

“No
we’re not, but it seems to me that the kind of guy who can avoid leaving a
paper trail would be exactly the kind of guy who wouldn’t leave behind evidence
either.” He sounded so sure, and my heart sank inside my chest.

“What
about the other suspects?”

“We’re
still verifying alibis, but it’s difficult given that none of the abductions
and murders can be pinpointed to an exact time. All we have to work with are
rough estimations based on what information we do have.”

Everything
in me wanted to argue, to insist that they had it wrong. “But why would he do
this?” I whispered.

I
wasn’t sure if Monroe was going to answer me or not, but before he even got the
chance, Parker returned. He had several clear bags in his hand, and a confused
scowl on his face that was directed at me.

“Nora,
did you call Missy Davidson and Natasha Rhodes’ cell phones last night?”

Monroe’s
head jerked to Parker and then back to me. I swallowed and felt the slip of
paper with phone numbers burning a hole in my pocket. I took it out and set it
on the table.

“Spencer
had this in his sweatshirt pocket. I found it, and when I recognized Emily’s
number, I called a couple of the others and when I realized who they belonged
to . . .” I trailed off, unable to meet either of their stares. I felt like
somehow I’d just betrayed Spencer, but if he had anything to do with this, then
I wanted him caught, and if he didn’t, then it shouldn’t matter if I gave them
this information.

Monroe
took the slip and slid it into his file, and then Parker laid out the bags on
the table in front of me.

“Oh,
God,” I breathed. I thought I might be sick.

“You
recognize them?” Monroe asked.

I
nodded, unable to pull my eyes away from the clothing in the bags.

“They
belong to Emily?”

I
shook my head and then forced my eyes to meet his. “They’re mine,” I whispered.
One bag held a set of lacy red underwear, exactly like a set I owned, but
couldn’t remember wearing in a while. Then there was the shirt and skirt, and
there was no doubt those were mine. It was the Ashes and Embers shirt I’d been
looking for. In the last bag was a coat. Emily’s brown Carhart one I’d lost in
the woods.

“They’re
yours?” Monroe looked puzzled, but I imagine it was nowhere near how I looked
at the moment.

“These
were on Dana?” I choked out.

“Yes.
She was dressed in these items and the coat laid over her.”

“The
coat, that’s Emily’s, but I was wearing it Saturday.” I then explained how I’d
lost it in the woods, believing that a homeless person or drug addict had taken
it.

“Where
was this?”

When
I told him the spot, a look passed between Monroe and Parker, and Monroe
informed me it was near where Dana had been found. She’d been dumped on the
same stretch of road down by Bellingham Bay.

“We
believe he chose that spot to dump Dana because of its proximity to the Raynes’
home. Who chose the location for your game of paintball, Nora?”

“It
was me. The whole thing was my idea. That’s the spot Emily and I would go with
her brother and his friends.”

“And
did you tell Spencer this?”

“Yes.”

“And
was he aware that the jacket belonged to Emily?”

The
nasty feeling in my gut grew. “Yes.”

“What
about the rest of the clothing? You said you and Emily shared everything, could
she have been wearing them when she was taken?”

“I,
I don’t know what she was wearing, but it’s possible that she borrowed the
skirt and shirt. She has before, but the underwear . . . she wouldn’t have
borrowed those.” Then something else occurred to me. “But . . . if someone
broke into our house, he could have taken them from our laundry hamper
believing they were hers.”

Monroe
rose out of his seat and collected the files. “I think that’s enough for now.
You’ve given us plenty to go on. Thank you for your help, Miss Scott.”

“That’s
it?” I shoved my chair back and stood. “What are you going to do? What do you
think is going on?”

“I
don’t subscribe to coincidence Miss Scott, and Dana Winters turning up just
down the road from the Raynes’ property, at a spot Mr. Shaw was aware held a
personal attachment for Emily is no coincidence. Covered by Emily’s jacket no
less. We’ll be bringing him in for more questioning, and until we can make an
arrest I suggest you steer clear of Mr. Shaw and call us right away if he tries
to approach you.”

“You
really think it’s him?” I just couldn’t believe that. “There’s no way.”

“Unless
you can vouch for Mr. Shaw’s whereabouts from Saturday evening until Sunday
morning, or any of the other nights that the girls were abducted, then I have
to disagree.”

“I
. . .” I wished I could. I wanted more than anything to be able to clear this
up by telling them that Shaw was with me all night Saturday, but he wasn’t. He
left at midnight. I told them as much and about my neighbor seeing the dark
car, similar to the one I saw Shaw getting out of at his hotel. I may as well
have been signing an arrest warrant myself, because both Monroe and Parker
seemed to take it as further confirmation of his guilt.

Our
interview was over and Parker held the door open for me, but before I was
through it, I turned back to Monroe who was gathering the files and evidence
off the table. “Why would he do this?” I forced out.

He
looked up sympathetically. “At this point we could only speculate, Miss Scott.”

I
swallowed back the rising nausea. “But why do you think he would do it? Why the
other girls if he’s fixated on Emily? And why would he try to get close to me?”
It didn’t make sense. We all had to be missing something, or someone else,
because it couldn’t be Spencer.

Monroe
pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a deep breath. “Look, I know you
don’t want to believe it and you’re trying to make sense of this situation, but
the truth is, it may never make sense to you. And until our psychologist sits
down with this guy, then the best I can do for you is try to put together the
pieces of the puzzle we do have. The guy has a violent nature and one hell of
an ego. He’s aggressive and from everything we can tell, has had trouble with
authority from an early age. Now we can’t access his military records but if I
had to guess, I’d say he experienced a traumatic event that caused his
discharge. Probably suffered physical as well as psychological damage. The
killings began less than a year after his release. Why he chose those girls, I
can only guess that they remind him of someone. Could be someone he lost,
someone who left him, someone he blames, but they definitely have some meaning
to him.”

“And
what about Emily? Why her?”

“I’ve
said all I can say until we know more, but whatever the reason, his obsession
seems to be shifting from whoever those girls represent, to your friend, and
it’s possible he sees you as a way to be closer to her.”

“But
why would he need to be closer to her if he has her?”

Monroe
didn’t have to answer. His eyes said it all. He wouldn’t unless he didn’t have
her anymore. If he’d killed her.

I
left the station not knowing where to go. My mind was reeling under the
onslaught of emotions and unanswered questions. I was supposed to be at work in
an hour, but I wasn’t sure that I could get through the day pretending it was
just another Monday. I seriously considered hopping on the freeway and not stopping
until I reached my parents’. What I wouldn’t give to be able to curl up in my
mother’s arms and have her tell me everything was going to be alright.

I
found myself making the familiar turns that would take me to the shop. It was
the only place I could go. Running to Mom and Dad’s may have been the smarter
choice, but I couldn’t do it. And I couldn’t go home right now either. I would
only drive myself crazy there. At least I felt safe at the shop and could keep
my mind busy.