The White Carnation (24 page)

“I know. Pierce confirmed she stayed at the Shady Rest Bed and Breakfast in November, and Boyle's Garage repaired the water pump on her car. The waitress at the café, probably the same one I spoke with, remembers her and the way she complained about the lousy Internet signals—they have it, but satellite service is sporadic at best.”

Faye blew out a breath filled with frustration and disappointment. “With Mary's due date, having the Harvester do his thing in Slocum would've fit the evidence perfectly.”

“It would've, and maybe that's the problem.”

“I don't understand.”

He ran his hand through his short hair. “We're working two disconnected cases simultaneously—the Harvester and Lucy Green's murder. We've connected you and Mary to the Harvester because of the semen, the drugs, and the way Mary's apartment was cleaned. We think we can link your attack and Lucy's murder because of the way your apartment was trashed, but we haven't a shred of proof to link Lucy's murder to Mary's disappearance and the Harvester, other than our theory that she knew something. We're trying to make the evidence fit the case and not the case fit the evidence. We don't know why her mother was murdered, and without a motive … We're digging into cults because we think he had help, but even that's all supposition. He could have bought the damn blankets and nightgowns at a county fair for all we know. A funeral director would know how to fix up the bodies.” He took a mouthful of coffee.

“Rob, none of it is your fault. The idea Slocum might be important was mine. I just didn't want it to be picture-perfect, small-town America.”

“Funny you should refer to it that way. Clark added a postscript to Pierce's report. One of the BAU analysts specializing in cults went as an observer. He signed off on Pierce's report, but he made a few additional notes. According to him, the people were too nice. Imagine considering the fact that someone is polite and helpful to be a problem. Since when did we start seeing evil behind every smile? What the hell's happened to us?”

She raised her hand and touched his cheek. “Reality happened. We found out the world is full of nasty people hiding behind those smiles we trusted. Appearances can be deceiving. In my line of work and in yours, we've seen more monsters than we ever imagined existed. The Harvester may just be one of the worst, but he's not alone. What else did the BAU observer say?”

“Nothing much really. He saw a couple of cars parked on the hill. I thought that was strange since we'd seen those two, but it turns out there's no cause for concern there either. One of the vehicles is leased to Dr. Thomas Irving, a semi-retired veterinarian. The other belongs to Hezekiah Easton, the farmer who owns Paradise Acres, that sizeable horse farm we drove past west of town. It was probably a chance meeting along the road. There isn't anything sinister about the vet talking to one of his clients.” He finished his coffee.

“No, I guess not. Did he mention what you could see from that hill?”

“The middle of town—that park where the kids were, where we were stopped in front of the café. The only other thing the BAU specialist remarked on was the absence of minorities, something unusual in this day and age. Maybe none of them have found the place. It's a little off the beaten track. He confirmed what Mary said about Wi-Fi. Since Slocum's in a valley, he figures it's a dead zone. It looks like the twenty-first century hasn't made its way there, but neither have the guys we're looking for.”

“I can't imagine any town surviving in this day and age without reliable cell phone service,” Faye said, carrying her cup into the kitchen.

“Maybe that's its appeal,” he commented, following her. “To totally crush your cult theory, they didn't see any babies or pregnant women, and they watched the place covertly for a week. I guess everyone is too busy with their out-of-town day jobs lately to procreate.” He put his mug in the sink next to hers. “It doesn't look like it's going to stop raining anytime soon, and the pounding's giving me a headache. We might as well leave now. We need groceries, and we should check the mail.”

“Sounds good to me. I need to get out of here, or I'll go stir-crazy. I'm not used to doing nothing for so long. Despite being relegated to the back pages of the paper, there was always a story to cover, even if it was a dismally boring one.”

Within ten minutes, they were retracing their usual route into Lake Placid. Rob enjoyed the comfortable silence only two friends could share. If in time their relationship blossomed into something more than sex, so be it. For now, he was content knowing he could keep her safe. Besides, she still had dragons to slay. He wouldn't add to the pressure.

After buying groceries and picking up the mail, they opted to see the latest Johnny Depp movie, but he'd barely been aware of the plot, concentrating as he was on all the puzzle pieces that didn't fit. After the movie, they had an early supper at the deli and then decided to go and see the local little theater company's presentation of
A Midsummer Night's Dream
. Faye loved live theater. He'd taken her to New York to see a couple of Broadway shows. While this presentation wouldn't make a splash in the Big Apple, it was well done, and he enjoyed it.

When the curtain fell around ten, the rain had ended, and the sky was awash with stars. The temperature was mild, and they opted for a drink at an outdoor restaurant before heading back to the cabin.

“In spite of its disappointing morning, I enjoyed today,” Faye said, sipping the glass of chardonnay she'd ordered.

“So did I. The guy who played Bottom did a great job. It isn't easy for a man to come off that way while making an ass of himself.”

Faye laughed. “He's not the first man I've seen make an ass of himself, but he did it with style. In fact, they were all great. There's a lot of hidden talent in America. Maybe I should write a story about that when this is over.”

“What? And give up the crime beat?”

“I don't know. Judging by how well I'm doing on this story, maybe I should move on. I guess we need to look at things in a different way tomorrow. Maybe it's time I started looking at the information through the eyes of a reporter rather than a victim. Don't say I haven't. We both know it's true, and it's colored my judgment.”

“What have you got in mind?”

“Let's go through it all again, separate the cases, and see exactly what we've got. We can link the loose ends where we think they fit, but let's keep them apart as well.”

“At this point, I'm ready to try anything.” He finished his beer as she drained her wine glass. “We'd better get back. If we're going to start at square one, we have a lot of work ahead of us taking files apart.”

It was after eleven when they pulled into their lane. They'd left the lights on inside and out, and the small log building looked friendly and inviting. Unlocking the door, he ushered her inside. The message light on the phone was blinking.

“It's
déjà vu,
” she said. “We sit here watching television how many nights, and the phone is silent. We stay out late twice, and there's a call each time. Must be Murphy's Law.”

He chuckled. “Someone might think we were playing hooky.”

“You? Playing hooky? Never. Work always comes first. It's a trait we share. Babysitting me is your job. I was with you. Therefore, you were still working.”

Rob pulled her to him and kissed her. He pulled away slowly. “I love my job.”

“More like you love the fringe benefits.”

“That, too,” he said, dropping another kiss on her mouth before releasing her and walking over to the phone. Picking up the receiver, he keyed in the numbers. He listened.

“Rob, it's Trevor Clark. Call me as soon as you get this. There's been an unexpected development.”

The man didn't sound happy. Rob hung up and then lifted the receiver again to dial Clark. “Pour us a drink, will you?”

Faye poured whiskey into two glasses, handed him one, and took a sip of hers. He watched her pace nervously as he waited impatiently for the call to connect. Hopefully, the news was that they'd caught a break, not that something had happened to blow another hole in their theories. Trevor answered, and Rob forced his gaze away from Faye to concentrate on the call.

“Hey, Trevor, I just got your message.” It felt strange to be calling his superior by his given name, but he'd asked him to.

“How are things going?” The tone of Trevor's voice didn't assuage Rob's discomfort.

“About the same. Getting cabin fever. What's up? I know this isn't a social call.”

“It isn't. I've got news, news that you'll like and some you won't. Here's what we know …”

Rob listened attentively. The more he heard, the worse he felt.

“You're sure?”

“Absolutely. No doubt this time.”

“Okay. I'll go back into town for it tomorrow. Good night.” He hung up.

“Something's wrong. What happened?” Faye said as soon as he put down the receiver. He couldn't keep this from her, but he wasn't prepared to share everything with her tonight. Some things could wait until the morning when he picked up the mail.

“We have new evidence, but I'm not sure what to do with it. The puzzle pieces are growing tentacles.”

“Rob, you aren't making sense. What did Trevor tell you?” Her fisted hand and the stubborn tilt of her chin testified to anger and frustration barely held in check. He didn't blame her. He was almost on the verge of exploding himself.

“They found Mr. and Mrs. Smith, the people who brought Meredith Howard's baby to the hospital.”

“Where?” Her voice was eager and her eyes bright. “Did they tell them where they got the baby?”

“No. Their throats were slit. They were found floating in the Charles River.”

“My God!” He watched the color drain from her face.

“Although he doesn't have the weapon, Amos has confirmed the knife used to slit their throats was the same one used to kill Lucy Green.”

“That links the cases. You were right,” she said, her agitation palpable. Her color returned as quickly as it had left. “I knew you'd figure it out. It just took longer than you expected. Meredith Howard, the Harvester's fifth victim, had a baby, but not one fathered by the man we assume is the Harvester. We'd connected the Smiths to Meredith and the Harvester, and now that we've discovered they were killed with the same knife used on Lucy, we've linked the cases. Why aren't you as fired up as I am? We've finally got a solid lead.”

“Because we still don't have the damn motive. The Smiths had answers I needed, but someone shut them up. All I have now are questions no one can answer. Nothing fits.” He ran his hand through his disheveled hair.

“Do you really believe that? Can we really be that far off base here?”

“I don't know what to think anymore. I can add up the evidence we have a dozen ways and get a different theory each time.” Rob pulled her into his arms. “There's something that links everything together, and we're missing it. We're still working with assumptions rather than proof, and they're worth a dime a dozen. The Smiths got that baby from someone, but who? Whoever killed them did so with the same knife used previously to kill Lucy. Why were the Smiths and Mrs. Green killed? Killing with a knife is messy business. The Harvester doesn't like a mess. He uses poison. This is the only thing keeping your cult theory alive. Trevor believes we have two different killers, linked in some solid way. If the Harvester is calling the shots, his accomplice is tying up loose ends.”

“Am I a loose end?” Faye asked, her voice shaky and filled with fear.

Rob touched his lips to her hair. “I won't let anything happen to you, I promise. Finish your drink, and we'll go to bed. We need to get up early and go into the village. Trevor sent another package. He'll call as soon as he has more information.”

• • •

The sound of Faye's even breathing assured Rob she'd finally fallen asleep. Even after they'd made love, she hadn't been able to settle any more than he had. Getting up without disturbing her, he walked to the railing running along the edge of the loft. The windows exposed the clear night sky to his view. It was amazing how many stars he could see here compared to home. Even when he took the boat out for the night and anchored at World's End to watch the sunset, the midnight sky wasn't like this. The glow from the slice of moon visible through the pine trees silvered the clearing around the cabin. He'd be content to spend the rest of his life here, but until they identified and caught her rapist and fingered the mole Rob would assume the worst—that Faye could still be in danger.

How much longer would the ruse at the hospital work? What if the mole knew she wasn't there and was just biding his time before telling the Harvester? Trevor believed he had a handle on the guy but wasn't ready to name him just yet. Trevor had told him more, of course. The State Department had confirmed all of the victims' passport pictures had been taken at the same Fotomat in Boston, leading to the conclusion that the Harvester's victims were selected there. How were the owner or the photographer involved? So far, they hadn't been able to talk to anyone since the place was temporarily closed.

Was the Fotomat owner the Harvester or just another minion doing triage for the bastard? With the change in MO, Faye's cult theory still seemed the most plausible. There was no definitive proof that the man who fathered the children and the Harvester were the same man. It was an assumption they'd all agreed on.

Now, the team concurred that the Harvester most likely hadn't killed the Smiths and Lucy Green, but could that killer be the rapist? Rape was a violent crime and so was stabbing, but the victims hadn't been stabbed. No, their throats had been slit with one stroke. Amos had described it as
military precision
. The case was getting more complicated and frustrating by the minute.