Cold Truth

26

The bayside cottage that Jonathan Wainwright rented for the season-intending to buy, according to his brother’s wife-was unlocked, as if the occupant had just stepped out to the small patio off the dining area. The rooms were immaculate. Nothing cluttered the counters in the kitchen. No dishes had been left in the sink. The living room furniture was as smooth as if never sat upon. The bathrooms appeared to have been scrubbed down with Clorox.

The beds in both upstairs rooms were expertly made. The clothes in the closet were in perfect alignment, as were the socks and underwear in the dresser.

In the refrigerator, they found an orange, a bottle of seltzer, an unopened pound of butter. A dozen eggs sat in their box. A tub of cream cheese and a jar of salsa stood side by side with a six-pack of Coke on the top shelf.

There was nothing to suggest the identity of the person who lived there.

“You didn’t really expect him to be here, did you?” Cass asked softly.

“No. Would’ve been nice to waltz right in and snatch him up. But that rarely happens. Even on TV.” Chief Denver moved through the living room, back into the kitchen, his hands in his pockets. “I suspect he’s off disposing of his latest conquest. I only wish I knew where.”

A uniformed officer stuck his head through the doorway. “Chief, the crime scene tech is here.”

“Send her on back.”

“Before I get started, tell me just how far I can go,” Tasha Welsh asked as she came into the room, lugging the heavy black bag that accompanied her everywhere. “How broad was your warrant?”

“Broad enough.” Denver nodded solemnly. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’m thinking the traps from the bathroom sink, for one, since the place is so clean. We’ll roll for fibers, and we’ll bag the bed pillow, hoping for some hair samples, but if we have to go to skin cells for the DNA, the bathroom sink is always a good place to start.” Her gloved hand held up a disposable razor. “Chances are, he shed a few shaving.”

She popped the razor into the bag.

“Do whatever you have to do to get as much as you can,” Denver told her.

“Already bagged his shoes. Maybe we’ll get a trace of soil from the bottoms, and maybe we can link that to one of the places where the bodies were found.” She started back out of the room, then turned and said, “You never did find the actual crime scenes, did you? We don’t know where he’s been taking these women to kill them?”

Denver shook his head. “No. We don’t have a clue.”

“It’s someplace that means something to him,” Cass said aloud. “Someplace where he feels safe…”

“Well, he grew up around here. Maybe we should start with the house he grew up in,” Rick suggested. “Or that garage where the evidence was stored.”

“Not a bad idea,” the chief said. “Let me get someone over there to talk to the present owners.”

“Disappointed?” Rick asked Cass after Denver had left the room.

“I didn’t expect him to be here. He still has a victim, someplace. At least I’m assuming he does. The body hasn’t been found, and God knows, everyone’s been looking for her.” She paused. “Her name is Lilly Carson, had you heard? She lives with her widowed mother, she’s twenty-eight years old, the single mother of a six-year-old son, and she just got her master’s degree in education last month. She supported herself and her son and put herself through grad school by working as a bartender at Jelly’s down in Tilden. That’s where she was last seen. Leaving Jelly’s after her shift was over, two-forty in the morning.”

Cass went to the window and gazed out.

“Where did he take her?” she murmured. “Where does he feel safe?”

“Denver says he has a brother and sister-in-law in town. They gave us a description of the car he’s been driving, maybe they can give us an idea of where he might go. Someplace that’s important to him. Or one of his buddies might know where he’d go.”

“Let’s get started, then. You want to take the brother, I’ll start with the friends?” Cass asked.

“No. Just because we think he’s occupied with someone else isn’t a good enough reason to leave you exposed. We’ll go together. And we’ll stick together until we find him.”

She nodded halfheartedly and went off to tell the chief where they were going.

Jonathan Wainwright sat in the bird blind, his back against the wall, literally and figuratively. On the floor near his feet, Lilly Carson lay, bound and gagged and still unconscious. His mind went back and forth between killing her right then and there or holding on to her. His brother had called his cell phone, wanting to know what the fuck was going on, the police had been there, asking a lot of questions.

“You haven’t done anything stupid, have you, Jonny?” his older brother, Steve, had asked, a touch of derision in his voice. “You’re not still doing… you know, the stuff you used to get in trouble for, are you?”

“If you’re asking me if I’ve looked into anyone’s bedroom window lately, the answer is no,” Jon had replied calmly, then disconnected the call.

But he was far from calm. Somehow, they had put something together. The one who didn’t die, that’s who it must have been. She must have told them.

Jenny.

Or another Jenny wannabe?

He rubbed his eyes. He just didn’t know anymore. Sometimes he thought he knew. Sometimes he felt so sure…

The woman on the floor of the blind moaned softly.

What to do with you? What to do…?

Killing her would be as mundane as tying his shoes at this point. The thrill was definitely gone. She held no appeal for him now. The moment had passed.

But alive… maybe she could serve a purpose.

He stood up and looked down on her. Lilly’s long dark hair spread around her and fell across her forehead in a silken wave.

What a shame, he told himself. What a waste.

He leaned over the side of the blind and looked around. The sanctuary was exactly that today. His sanctuary. A slight breeze blew through the trees and the marsh grasses, and a few birds called every once in a while. Other than that, it was quiet. Peaceful.

He rested his arms along the top rail and began to think. Plan it out, son, his father would have said, for Christ’s sake.

He nodded a silent response. Okay, Pop, I’ve got a plan for you. I only wish to God you were still around to see it all play out. You think I embarrassed you when I was a kid? You ain’t seen nothing, old man.

Resolved, he lifted the woman and opened the door to the blind. Carefully picking his way down the steps, he started across the marsh to the small rowboat he’d tied up at the edge of the bay. He dumped Lilly unceremoniously into the bottom of the boat, and she groaned when her head hit the seat. Ignoring her pain, he pushed out through the shallows. When the water was above his knees, he slid over the side of the boat and picked up the oars.

He looked straight ahead as he rowed, glancing down one time to see Lilly watching him through terrified eyes.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to dump you over the side. Uh-uh. You’re much too valuable alive. Much more.”

He rowed quietly and kept as close to the shoreline as he could. When he reached his destination, he hopped out of the boat and dragged it up through the reeds. He lifted a frightened Lilly and hoisted her over his shoulder, pushing his way through the thick growth of cattails to the house that stood at the edge of the marsh-the house where it had all started, twenty-six long years ago.