The White Carnation (29 page)

As Jimmy moved closer, her nose wrinkled at the smell of his unwashed body, the herbal cigarettes he smoked, and a multitude of even more unpleasant odors. Did she recognize deer musk, too? He stopped about a foot away from her, far too close for comfort, and Faye noticed the bone handle of a long hunting knife sheathed in the leather utility belt he always wore. It hadn't been there before; she'd have recognized a weapon like that. The only thing missing from his usual outfit was his camera.

“What are you doing here? On another nature shoot? You smell a little ripe, no offense. You're welcome to clean up upstairs if you like.” She glimpsed at the clock on the fireplace mantel. Rob should be here anytime. Jimmy laughed, and the sound raised goose bumps on her skin.

“No thanks. I'll clean up when I'm done. You've been a bad girl, Faye. You'll have to be disciplined. I suppose the hair will grow. We've been worried about you. We searched for you. You shouldn't have left, especially not with him. That's against the rules. The rules must be followed.”

“What rules are you talking about, Jimmy?” She swallowed and tried to stay outwardly calm while her insides came unglued. This wasn't the easy-going Jimmy she knew. He was a stranger, a very dangerous and absolutely crazy stranger. She needed to keep him talking, but his behavior was unsettling. She forced down the panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

He scowled. “You shouldn't have tried to hide like this. You gave us a lot of extra work, caused delays. It took a long time to figure out where you'd gone, but the Prophet is smart, and his follower dug until he had the answer. He sent me here. I arrived last week. I've been waiting for my chance. When I saw him leave, I knew it was time. Someone will deal with him later. I've come to collect what's mine.”

“Yours? You must be mistaken. I don't have anything of yours.” His last words echoed in her head. “You saw him leaving? You've been spying on us?”

“I have from the moment I knew I could claim you. I chose the others because they resembled you. I watched you at work and at home. I saw you bathe, dress, sleep. I saw you sharing what's mine with him in that bed. That was against the rules, but I punished you for that. I took away the job you loved. I wanted to kill him, but the Prophet said no. The detective thinks he can take you from me now, but he can't. The time has come for us to be one.”

His words chilled her. His voice, eerily calm, grew in intensity, and she recognized the fanaticism. He was insane. Why had she never seen it? He'd followed her around, but she'd never noticed the obsession.
Damn it. I even felt sorry for him.

And Jimmy's words disagreed with what Tom and Trevor had told Rob. If Jimmy had been the one to pay her off, why wouldn't Tina have said so? Could Tom be the mole? He was certainly privy to everything.

“You say you ruined my career? I thought Tina did that.”

“That whore? She wasn't fit to wash my feet. I sent a fixer to her with money and that file. One of the brethren put it together for me. Do you know she actually thought I'd choose her over you? She broke her vow of silence, and she's been punished for her transgression. God intended you for me.”

“The flowers. You sent me the flowers.”

“I did. First I sent roses to commiserate with you when you fell for my ploy and printed that false story. Pride comes before a fall. You'll learn that now. When I discovered you preferred carnations—I sent those each time one of our children was born into the family—I watched you care for them, but not the last one. Where did you leave the last one?”

Keep him talking, Faye. Keep him talking. Rob, I need you!

“I had it with me when I found Lucy Green. I dropped it.”

“That was unfortunate. The woman's death was a mistake and has been redressed. Seeing you so broken hurt me. I sent you the pictures and watched you smile. Then, the prophet said it was time at last.”

Her palms were sweaty. She looked at the clock again.
Where are you, Rob?

She shook her head, trying to deny what he'd said. “You were the Joker—at the tea, in my apartment. You attacked me? You raped me? Why?”

“I claimed you. I planted the seed, and it grows as we speak.”

“You're insane,” she whispered, her breathing shallow. She couldn't mask her fear anymore.

“You're afraid. Good. A wife should fear her lord and master. I won't beat you this time, but the Prophet says we need to go back to the old ways. Our new home is waiting for us. You'll be happy there. You're going to be my wife. But enough conversation. We need to go now.”

“Never,” she whispered, seeing the truth in the mania in his deep blue eyes, the eyes she remembered now, eyes he'd always kept hidden behind thick glasses. “I'm not going—”

Before she could finish her words, he blew white powder into her face, and everything went black.

“Faye? I'm back. Sorry it took so long.”

Rob entered the chalet, surprised not to see her standing in the doorway waiting for him. He'd had a flat halfway to Lake Placid, a nail in the tire, and it had taken him more than three hours to get a tow truck, get it fixed, get the mail from the post office, gas up, and get back. He'd forgotten to charge the cell phone, and the damn thing barely had enough juice in it to call the tow truck.

“Where are you, honey? We have to get going.” The bags were sitting at the bottom of the stairs. Maybe she'd gone up for more. He climbed the stairs, two at a time, and saw everything had been cleaned. The laundry basket waited to be carried downstairs. He went into the bathroom, but it was empty. Concern clawed at his stomach. He entered the kitchen and saw the box on the table and the cooler on the counter. He opened the fridge and freezer. Nothing had been touched. Why hadn't she finished?

An unpleasant aroma—feces, decay, carrion—wafted into the room through the kitchen window. Had some animal crawled under the cottage and died? Was Faye outside trying to pull some raccoon carcass from under the cabin? It would be just like her to try, but the way her stomach had been acting up …

He hurried around to the back of the chalet and stopped as if he'd been poleaxed when he saw flies buzzing around the blood-soaked sheet.

His heart thundered in his chest. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He walked slowly over to the bundle, praying he wouldn't find Faye underneath the cloth. Bending down, he tugged at the fly- and maggot-covered sheet, his stomach threatening to empty itself. Blonde hair, sightless eyes. The breath he'd been holding gushed out. Tina Jackson's bloody, contorted body lay on the dirty sheet. Like Lucy Green, her throat had been slit.

That monster had Faye!

“Faye!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Faye!” he yelled a second time, knowing there would be no answer. His breath came in gasps as he recalled a similar search, but this time, he knew he wouldn't find her in bed the way he had the morning she'd been drugged.

He ran to the edge of the clearing and vomited what was left of the breakfast he'd consumed earlier. He sprinted back into the cabin, searching for blood. Good—there was none. He did a quick inventory. Where were the files? The laptop—where was the computer? His greatest fears gelled. Someone had taken the files and the computer, but more importantly, they'd taken Faye.

He pulled all of his emotions inside. Faye needed him—not as an emotional wreck, but as the skilled investigator he was. What had she said the night she'd found Lucy? She needed a bulldog. Well, she had one. Calling on every inch of professionalism he had, he banked his terror and reached for the phone. Trevor picked up on the third ring.

“He killed Tina Jackson and left her body here for me to find.”

“Who killed Tina Jackson?”

“The Harvester, damn it, and now he has Faye.”

“How in hell did he find you?”

“How should I know? You tell me. It's the leak. It has to be. You said you knew who he was. Why didn't you stop him?”

“Rob, the person I know who has been leaking information has no idea where you are. I'll swear to that. There has to be someone else involved, someone I still haven't pinpointed.”

“Well, the bastard must have been watching us, waiting for his chance, and I gave it to him. He saw me leave. He knew she was alone.”

“I'm sending in a forensic team. We'll scour every inch of that place for a ten-mile radius. If she's around there, we'll find her, Rob.”

“And if she's not? I'm on my way back.”

He slammed the receiver into the cradle.

This is my fault. In my arrogance, I left her here, by herself, thinking she'd be safe. The first rule of guarding a witness is to never leave them alone, and I violated the code. Son of a bitch.

He had to get her back safely. He'd never forgive himself if he didn't. He'd find her and the person who leaked the information, and he'd kill the bastard who'd taken her—maybe he'd kill them both. Justifiable homicide. No jury on earth would convict him.

Going into the kitchen, he splashed cold water on his face. He went back upstairs and picked up the laundry bag. Downstairs again, he bent to add the duffle bags to his load and stopped. Faye's zippered sweatshirt, the one he'd bought her in the village, lay on the floor. When he picked it up, he saw the edge of a file folder poking out from under the chair skirt. He and Faye had joked about the frilly floor-lengths that turned ordinary kitchen chairs into fancy dining-room ones. He bent and pulled out a file. Mary's file. Why would the kidnapper take everything and leave it?

Because he didn't see it. Faye must have hidden it under the chair. It's the only thing that makes sense. This file has to hold a clue to where she is.

Everything was still in the file—the postcard, Mary's letter to her mother, every scrap of evidence they'd collected on Mary, plus all the personal notes Faye had made. Grabbing the bags, the laundry basket, the folder, and his keys, he closed but didn't lock the door to the chalet. The techs would need access. Right now, all that mattered was finding Faye, and the answer to that had to be in Boston. The first raindrop hit his face. It was going to be a long drive.

• • •

Lying on her stomach with her face pressed into a foul-smelling mattress in what she assumed was the back of a cargo van, Faye prayed she wouldn't be sick. There were no windows to allow the light in, but lying as she was, she wouldn't see anything anyway. The reek of rotting flesh, sour milk, urine, blood, and God knows what else filled her nostrils. Trying to stretch and roll over, she realized her hands were duct-taped together under her, pressed awkwardly against her belly as if she were praying. Her legs were straight, but when she tried to get leverage with her toes, it was clear her bare feet were taped together at the ankles.

She lifted her chin enough to turn her head to the side and tried to get up, but that was an almost impossible task. Pulling up her knees, she managed to assume some semblance of the fetal position and flipped onto her back. The air wasn't much fresher, but at least she could breathe easier. Terror filled her.

Where am I? How did I get here?
Her mind was fuzzy, like it had been in the hospital, and she concentrated, trying to recall whatever she could. The Fotomat girl. She'd seen her picture, and they were leaving. Rob had gone into Lake Placid to check the mail one last time …

“Jimmy!” She breathed the name aloud. Jimmy had drugged and kidnapped her. Had he raped her again? He'd spouted nonsense about broken rules and the fact she was meant for him … the other victims! He'd chosen them because they looked like her, not the other way around. Her head swam at the implication. Five women were dead and Mary was missing because they resembled her. Tears filled her eyes.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” she whispered into the darkness. “Please forgive me. I didn't know.” The movement of the van, the residual drugs, and her emotional collapse lulled her back to sleep.

When she awoke the second time, she was on her side. Her eyes adjusted to the blackness of the van's interior. They were still moving, and the motion coupled with the less-than-stellar aroma in the place put her stomach on the verge of adding to the unpleasantness. She forced herself onto her back.

I will not be sick.

Unlike most vehicles of its kind, this section of the van was closed off from the driver's area. Bending her knees, she used every abdominal muscle she possessed to sit up, grabbing at her jeans to help her. She moved her butt around to lean against the wall and lowered her legs. The only way she'd get out of here was to make a run for it when the van stopped, but that wouldn't work with her trussed up like this.

Raising her hands to her mouth, she chewed on the tape binding them together. The material had a horrid taste, but she wouldn't let that stop her. If she freed her hands, she could free her legs and attack him when he opened the door, maybe garner enough attention to get help. Before she could succeed, the vehicle stopped. On the verge of panic, she flipped herself back onto her stomach, gagging on the taste of the mattress, and feigned unconsciousness. The metal on metal screamed as the door opened. Too scared to even think of escape, she closed her eyes and tried to keep her face in repose, praying he wouldn't notice. He stepped into the van, picked her up as if she were a sack of potatoes, and flipped her over his shoulder.

“You're back.” Faye didn't recognize the stern voice. “I didn't expect you until tomorrow.”

“He left her. I saw an opportunity and took it. I delivered the package you sent and collected what's mine. How are things coming?”

“Eden will be ready for you when we arrive. I leave tomorrow with some of the elders and the brethren who'll see the seven settlements stocked. You and the others will follow, and this place will revert to its original purpose. Our brother is having a hard time dissembling information, and the longer we delay, the more he'll be in danger of discovery. Now that she's here, we don't wait any longer. Take her to the stable for purification and then clean yourself up. You smell of death and desecration. You've paid your penance. You may retake your place at my side, but James, don't break the rules again.”