Silent Graves (28 page)

Chapter 51

Chad entered Leslie’s room and went toward her. “We’re going to have company for dinner tonight. I hope you don’t mind.” He undid her restraints and told her quietly, “Don’t try to escape.”

She looked at him blankly. Her eyes were slits. She must have still been feeling the effects of the drug he gave her.

He led her to the dining room where he had set out food. A large steak was on a platter, and there was a bowl of baked potatoes. There were three plates and one complete place setting.

Sydney was sitting at the end of the table. He had dressed her in the cream colored suit she wore when she had arrived. He had tied her legs to those of the chair and secured a rope around her torso.

He helped Leslie take a seat at the other end and did the same with her.

He walked behind Sydney. “We’re going to have a last meal together. Sydney’s going to be leaving us soon.”

He ran a hand down the length of Sydney’s hair.

She shivered under his touch, possibly even withdrew. He chose to ignore it so that dinner wouldn’t be ruined.

Sydney had watched him bring Leslie into the dining room. She swayed on her feet and leaned heavily into him.

Sydney knew the woman was trying to get her attention, but she feared getting caught. When she could, she’d get in quick glimpses and sensed Leslie wasn’t feeling as drugged as she was acting. Her eyes were clear, except for when he’d start to turn in her direction. Then she’d lower her eyelids, as if she were dozy.

He worked at cutting the steak into pieces—one for each of them. He placed the portion on their plates and followed the meat with a baked potato.

“You can make it up the way you want. The butter…I love steak.” He cut off some beef and slid it into his mouth.

“Please, eat up.” He spoke between chews. “You have to eat with your hands. I can’t have you…God, this is good.”

Sydney glanced over at Leslie at the wrong time, and their eyes connected. Leslie was up to something. It was in her eyes. Sydney blinked and held her eyes shut for a few seconds to show her that the message was received.

Chapter 52

“Thanks for letting me come along.” Trent Stenson sat in the passenger seat. Hanes drove.

“You should have talked to the FBI as soon as you knew about the connection between the victims.”

“Then what? Let them have all the glory? I’ve wanted to make detective for years now.”

“You know the expression that goes around the department?” Hanes shifted his focus from the road to Trent. “Shit floats.”

“So you’re calling yourself a shit? From this perspective, I’m starting to see it.”

“Don’t be like that. Shit.” Hanes pounded the wheel with his palm.

“Shit. That seems to be your word at the moment. I’ll tell them as soon as we get there.”

Hanes let out a deep exhale and shook his head.

“What?”

“It’s just you’ve been obsessed with these women’s cases for how long now?”

“Not long after I became a cop.”

“And you want the glory for piecing them together? But when you can make an actual difference, you keep quiet? What is it anyway? What all have you figured out? You never finished saying.” Hanes turned onto VA 234 and headed north.

Sydney kept watching Leslie as s
he scooped out some of the potato from its peel and put it into her mouth.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he said.

 A second later violent, racking coughs seized her and had Leslie pulling on the rope that held her to the chair. Her hand went to her throat. S
ome
potato must have gone down the wrong way.

He was quick to his feet. “Leslie?” Concern filtered into his voice. 

He went beside her and rubbed her back.

Coughs continued to grip Leslie, fragmenting her words as she tried to speak. “I…I can’t….bre—” She pulled out on the restraint against her torso again. “Pl…please.”

“Leslie.” He hurried to undo her. “Can you? Are you…you will be fine.”

She continued coughing. “Wa…ter…pl...ease.”

He passed a glimpse at Sydney before he rushed out of the room to the kitchen.

Leslie’s coughs became quieter, less aggressive, with some louder ones. She hoisted on the balls of her feet, lifting the back legs of the chair off the floor and reached over to the man’s place setting.

Sydney realized what the woman was going to do.

She was only one inch away from what she needed. One inch. She could do it. Sydney coaxed her on mentally.

Leslie’s movements stopped. Her eyes enlarged from fear—nearly large enough to serve as a mirror.

The man was on his way back.

Sydney heard his footsteps tapping on the old wooden floorboards of the house. They had mere seconds. Leslie made one final effort to reach what she needed.

“What the fuck are you—”

He dropped the glass to the floor and shards shattered across the surface. 

He lunged at Leslie and pulled back on her hair.

From Leslie’s expression and outcry, Sydney wondered if he tore scalp from bone, but she continued to pull against him. She must have been infused with adrenaline. She had plans not only escape but to kill him.

Leslie’s fingertips brushed the wooden handle of the steak knife and it seemed enough to propel her forward. She wrapped her fingers around the knife and got a firm grip on it.

When she stopped fighting and let herself go in the direction of his pull, the chair toppled the opposite way, petering on a precarious angle backward. He wasn’t prepared for her to give into him, and, with the momentum, couldn’t hold her upright. She fell backward, and, thank God, Sydney thought, let go of Leslie’s hair.

“Why?” he yelled.

Leslie was lying on her back, flesh against the spindled back of the chair. He came at her quickly, straddling over her in an effort to pin her down. He worked at securing her arms above her head with the excess rope that was tied around her torso.

She struggled against him and let out a scream. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed it tightly. Her grasp on the knife handle weakening, and the outcries getting louder.

With the way he had her pinned, Leslie’s hand only bent at the wrist. He continued to squeeze, and then he twisted it to the right.

Sydney heard the crack. And the knife fell to the floor.

Chapter 53

Backup was coming in from all possible directions, and the meeting point Jack had set up was about a mile down the road from Campbell’s property. We wouldn’t be knocking on the front door. We would be coming from all angles, and
cruisers would create blockades in each direction.

Paramedics and ambulances were there on stand-by.

Satellite imagery showed an old drive shed a couple hundred yards from the house.

A car came toward us and had Jack moving to the middle of the road. When he noticed it was Hanes and Stenson, he stepped to the side.

Hanes killed the engine, and both men got out.

I was curious why Stenson had come along, but this was one of those cases where we needed all hands on deck.

“There’s something Stenson has to tell you.” Hanes gestured toward Stenson, who shifted his focus over the landscape—anywhere but in direct eye contact with Jack.

Three seconds passed.

“What is it?” Jack’s anger and impatience were unmistakable.

“I know of a connection among the victims. I’ve known for a while.” Stenson paused and swallowed roughly. “They were all from broken families. For example, Leslie Keyes had a mother who left her father, Amy Rogers had a father who was a drunk, and Sydney Poole’s mother abandoned her, but that’s not all. I’ve heard you mention that most of the victims didn’t have kids.”

“To the point.”

“Well, we know that Leslie Keyes was special to him and that she had a kid.”

“Tell us something we don’t know.”

Stenson’s chest extended and he remained quiet for a few seconds. “I spoke with Monica’s mother.”

“You what? You spoke to—”

“You saw the similarities between Leslie and Monica. He picked Monica for a reason. She’s pregnant. He wants to make a family with her.”

“How long have you known this?”

A pulse tapped in Stenson’s cheek.

“How long?” Jack’s voice boomed with the question.

“I found this out after her disappearance.”

“Get out of here. I want you out of my sight.” Jack pointed a finger down the road in the direction they came from.

“But, I just told you.” Stenson fought off Hanes’s efforts to pull him away.

“Here are my keys. Go. Do yourself a favor. Do as he says.” Hanes’s eyes locked with Stenson’s.

Paige and Zachery weren’t returning my eye contact.

“Fine.” Stenson scooped the keys dangling from Hanes’s hand and took off in the direction of the vehicle. The engine roared, and, seconds later, the wheels kicked up dust as Stenson gunned it in reverse and pulled a quick U-turn.

Hanes rubbed his forehead and Jack directed him to the back of the SUV where we had set up a computer with graphic imaging of the surroundings.