Silent Graves (4 page)

“I never said that.”

“But your demeanor does.”

We weren’t going to get anywhere with him as long as he and Jack played largest cock in the room.

“Mr. Rogers, we believe you.” It warranted a corrective glance from Jack. I pretended not to notice. “When did you last see your wife?”

“I assume you’d have all that in a file.” His face went expressionless. When neither Jack nor I spoke after a few seconds, Rogers did. “It was the end of last week—Thursday morning before work. I was headed into the office as normal. I kissed her good-bye. She barely acknowledged it. It was five in the morning. I left and never heard any more from her.”

“Do you know what her plans were for that day? Does she have an agenda book?”

“She does.” Rogers gestured to Pryce who pretty much tossed the leather book across the table.

I put a hand on it but didn’t move to open it.

“She had a weekly appointment at the salon on Thursday mornings. My investigator confirmed she arrived at nine-thirty. Her hairdresser was questioned by him.”

“And did she—”

“He. His name’s Paulo. Suppose that doesn’t matter.”

“Did Paulo mention anything about her state of mind? Did she seem to be in a hurry or stressed?”

Rogers seemed to give it some thought. “He did say she was more fussy than normal. The color didn’t turn out quite the way she wanted, and she made him re-do it and then complained about the time it was taking.”

“Do you know why your wife would have been in a hurry?”

Rogers laughed and turned to his lawyer, who smiled. “Agents, my wife has the life of a dog. By that, I mean I love my wife, and, because of that, she is pampered and spoiled. She doesn’t have to lift a manicured finger for work. She has my money to spend. Oh, and I loved spending it on her.”

“Loved?”

“I just—” His voice faltered disclosing emotion for the first time since he entered the room. “Sometimes, I’m not sure we’ll get her back, especially considering what happened to those other women and then the others who went missing over the past six years. They were never found.”

“You let us worry about that,” Jack said. “Do you have—”

“Anyone who hates me?” Rogers smiled. “You don’t get to the top and not have the haters.”

“We’re going to need a list of names.”

Rogers gestured to Pryce. He slid a sheet of paper across the table.

“Daniel Wade is the highest on my list, but I don’t think he’s capable of something like this.”

“And he hates you because?” Jack asked the leading question.

“We’ve already spoken with Mr. Wade,” Chief Fox interjected. “He was cleared in this case. He had an alibi that checked out.”

“All right.” Jack’s words came out slow
ly
and evenly, “and you haven’t received any request for a ransom?”

“None.”

“We set up surveillance in his home after he came to us
,
but it was of no use,” Fox said.

“How did your investigator find out about these other women, and what makes you think they are connected to your missing wife?” Jack asked Rogers.

“Just a feeling after my contact started researching the history in the surrounding area.”

“Going back to your wife at the salon, you have no idea why she would have been in a hurry?”

“You have her agenda book. You’ll see nothing was written in it for the day she went missing.”

“Is it possible she ran off with another man?”

“As I said earlier, why would she?”

“He’s one arrogant bastard. I’ll give him that.” Jack pulled out a cigarette.

“You don’t think he’s involved with her disappearance?” I studied his profile. He didn’t seem inclined to face me.

I pushed the button to close the elevator doors, and the car started its descent to ground level.

Chapter 6

Nondescript location, Prince William County

Tuesday morning

“Good morning, beautiful.”

He unlatched the bedroom door, cracking it open cautiously, as if she could fight back. She wouldn’t of course. She’d welcome him to her. If she didn’t, then he would take care of things to ensure she did.

Her naked body was sprawled on the bed, spread eagle. Her wrists and ankles bound to the posts. Her blond hair cascaded over the pillow as an angelic covering, yet she was poisonous.

She deserves to die. What are you waiting for?

He ignored the voice that kept him teetering on the brink of insanity—so would say the mental institutions, those who would prefer to poke him and run tests on him as some lab rat. They would force pills down his throat and tell him to remain calm as they did so.

You are a man? Do it!

He gripped his head, covering both ears momentarily. He had to do this. It was time for him to handle things like a man. He approached her, watching her sleep. Soft snores reverberated up her throat.

He tapped his hands against his thighs.

Tappity, tap. Tappity, tap.

He opened the tattered curtains that hung from the rusty metal rod. For a few seconds, he appreciated the view of the back woods. He heard the birds singing and caught a glimpse of a squirrel running across the yard. He didn’t fear anyone seeing anything, not out here in the middle of nowhere.

His thoughts went to the hill, down the makeshift path that had become that way over time. Each time he had to take care of business in the woods, he had tried to take a slightly different route so as not to make an obvious impression. No sense taking unnecessary risks. Still, despite his efforts, there was evidence of a regular passing.

He heard a deeper moan escape her throat and turned from the window to the woman.

“Sydney. Sydney.” He said her name twice, calling out as one would to a child in deep slumber.

Her head lolled side to side and her eyes shot open.

There was recognition there, followed by fear.

Her eyes were bloodshot, her pupils dilated. She said something from behind the silver duct tape, but it wasn’t audible.

“Now, if you’re a good girl and cooperate, everything will be okay.” He sat on the edge of the bed. He ran a hand down her inner thigh. She quivered beneath his touch. He wanted to experience pleasure in response, but his feelings were void.

She mumbled again, and this time he was tempted to remove the tape.

He pulled out a vial and a needle.

She screamed—more like muttered—from behind the tape. Her head rocked back and forth, and her body thrashed as much as her constraints would allow.

He saw it in her eyes as he had witnessed in all their eyes. Their pleading with him to have mercy be shown—but who was he to deny them the pleasure of flesh.

He plunged the loaded needle into her neck, and
,
within seconds
,
the movements stopped.

Her eyes rolled back
,
and her body fell limp.

“There you go baby. Good as new.” He rose from the bed and unzipped his pants, taking his time with the buckle of his belt, and then lifted his t-shirt over his head. He would take control again.

Chapter 7

Woodbridge, VA

Tuesday morning

Chief of Police Albert Patton sat behind his desk, tapping a pen against the edge of it. “Glad there’s finally some attention being paid to this case. The FBI didn’t want it years ago.”

Paige and Zach were seated across from him.

She put assorted crime scene photos on the desk. “We’re aware of that, but we’re interested now, and it’s not just the case of Melanie Chase but other similar cases in the area.”

He lifted one and held onto it. He shook his head. “What a waste. Unbelievable how sick of a world we live in. Every day, when I don’t think it could get any worse, it does.” He put the photo down. “Her face is vaguely familiar. What was her name again?”

“Lena Swanson. She was found along I-95 around Lorton back in seventy-three.”

Patton shook his head in silent meditation. “You know, I remember Melanie Chase’s case very clearly. Some of them stick with you more than others.”

“What made this one stick?”

“You mean besides the fact she was a beautiful woman? Just that there was nothing for us to go on. Everything led to a dead end. Everyone in her world was removed of suspicion so we thought maybe it was a truck driver, you know, because she was found in a ditch along I-95. Yes, as I gather from your expressions, that’s like finding a needle in a haystack. There weren’t the man hours required for it, and then the doubt comes into play. What if it wasn’t a truck driver we were looking for? There was one guy, though, a Frank Wilson, but the evidence wasn’t there. He worked with Chase and happened to be a short-distance driver for a meat packer.”

“We’ll need the name.”

“Of course. Straightline.”

“How long did you investigate the case?”

“Years,  but when everything kept circling, we had to move on.” The chief’s face reddened. “Sometimes there’s just nothing you can do.” His eyes hazed over.

“Anything you remember that stood out from witness interviews, or who was the last to see her alive?”

“Her husband. He said he dropped her off at work in the morning. Everything was normal, but, if you’ve read the file at all, you already know things didn’t play out like that. Her workplace said that she had quit her job. Being dropped off there was all an act.”

“She could have been having an affair.”

“Absolutely, but that, like so many other things, was one of them circles. It couldn’t be proven. The husband adamantly dismissed the idea as being inconceivable.”

“Yet, she withheld the fact she quit her job from him. It wouldn’t take much more lying ability than that to cheat.”

“Well, like I keep saying, nothing was proven.” He paused a few seconds. “Since I heard about that woman Rogers on the news
,
I’ve had a few sleepless nights wondering if I had missed something and could have stopped it. I take it you’re thinking these old cases are connected?”

“Is there anything else you think we should know about Melanie Chase?”

The chief rubbed his chin. “She was a married woman with no children. You likely know that from the file. What you might not know is she was described by her friends as worldly and outgoing. She wasn’t shy.”

Paige wondered if her ‘worldly ways’
were what ended up with her on a metal slab and then six feet under.

“The killer was profiled as a male. There wasn’t evidence of sexual assault, but she had been bound. The forensics team figured for about a day.”

“It was enough to leave the bruising?”

“She was a fighter. We even lifted epithelial from beneath her fingernails, not that we could do anything with it, but we were hopeful for the future. DNA wasn’t considered reliable evidence until over a decade after Chase. There were abrasions on her hands. Maybe you’ll be able to do something with it now and find a match for the DNA.”