Heartsick

CHAPTER 35

Addy Jackson’s family lived in a two-story adobe house on a terraced hill on the corner of a busy street in Southeast Portland. The house was painted pink and had a red tile roof and it looked as out of place surrounded by its Craftsman neighbors as it now did surrounded by police cars. Susan noticed a shiny black helicopter with the Channel 12 news logo on the side already circling overhead.

Claire took the cement steps that jackknifed up the hillside to the house two at a time, followed by Anne and finally Susan. It was already getting too warm for the trench coat, but Susan kept it on so she could have her notebook at the ready in one of the coat’s deep pockets. She felt sick to her stomach at the notion of walking into a budding family tragedy and she didn’t want to make herself feel worse by walking around clutching a reporter’s notebook that screamed hello-I’m-with-the-media-I’m-here-to-exploit-you. I am a serious journalist, she told herself in an effort to mollify her growing unease. A. Serious. Journalist.

The house was full of cops. Susan saw Archie was in the living room on one knee in front of a stricken couple who sat holding hands on a small sofa. They looked at him as if he were the only person in the world, as if he could save them. Susan remembered seeing her mother look at Susan’s father’s oncologist with that very same expression. But the case was terminal then, too.

She looked away. The room was beautiful, full of mission-style furniture and stained glass and jewel-toned Deco velvet. Someone had meticulously stripped and refinished the wood molding, which curved around built-in shelf nooks and over arched doors. When she looked back at Archie, he said something to the parents, touching the mother lightly on the arm, and stood up and walked over to the entryway.

“She was gone this morning,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Last they saw her was last night around ten. The bedroom window’s broken. Parents didn’t hear anything. Their bedroom is upstairs. Nothing missing but the girl. The crime-scene investigators are in there now.”

He looked better than the day before, Susan noticed, more alert. That was a good sign. Then she remembered what Debbie had said about how he would sleep so well when he got home from seeing Gretchen.

“How’d he know which room was hers?” asked Claire.

A cop wearing a crime-scene-investigation jacket walked by and Archie stepped out of the way to let him pass. “Curtains were open. She was in there doing homework last night with the lights on. Maybe he was watching. Or maybe he knows her.”

“We sure it’s our guy?” Anne asked, her face hard. “This doesn’t fit.”

Archie motioned for them to follow him into the dining room, where he removed a framed photograph from the wall, returned, and handed it to Anne. It was a photograph of a teenage girl with brown hair and wide-set eyes.

“Jesus,” Claire said under her breath.

“Why would he change his MO?” mused Anne.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” said Archie.

“Too much security at the schools,” Anne guessed. “He’s worried he won’t be able to get to his victims. Maybe he followed her home. But this seems really risky. He’s panicking. In the big picture, it’s good news. It means he’s getting less careful. We’re closer.”

Susan leaned back on her heels and looked through the entryway into the living room, where the parents still sat, motionless on the sofa, another detective perched across from them on an ottoman, notebook in hand.

“What school did she go to?” Claire asked.

Archie jerked his head toward Susan. “Her alma mater.”

“ Cleveland?” Susan said, stomach dropping. She knew then, in a horrible rush of certainly, that Archie had confronted Paul. Of course he had. “You don’t think-”

“It wasn’t Reston,” Archie told her. “He was under surveillance from six on. Didn’t leave the house.”

Susan’s jaw ached again. Archie had put Paul under surveillance, made him a suspect, based on her dramatic performance at the prison. She mentally kicked herself for opening her big mouth. She shouldn’t have let Gretchen get to her. She should never have even taken the story. Now there was no stopping what she had set in motion. “You’re watching Paul? Based on what I told you yesterday?”

“He fits the profile better than anyone right now. Except for his unerring ability to have an alibi at the time of the crimes.” Archie turned to Claire. “Check in with our tail on Evan Kent. Then call Cleveland. Find out if anyone showed up today covered in blood and wearing a ski mask.” He smiled wanly. “Or, you know, anything out of the ordinary.”

Claire nodded, pulled her cell phone off her belt, and walked outside to make the calls.

Susan stole another look at Archie. “You went to see him,” she said.

Archie snapped his pen shut and dropped it in his coat pocket. “Of course,” he said. “What did you think I’d do?”

“What did he say?”

“He denied it.”

Susan felt her face flush. “Good,” she said, her voice faltering just a little. “He’s protecting himself. That’s good.” And then: “I told you he’d deny it.”

“That’s what you told me,” said Archie.

Claire reappeared. “ Kent ’s at home. But Dan McCallum didn’t show today at Cleveland.” She glanced from face to face. “What?”

Archie looked at his watch. “How late is he?” he asked.

“Mr. McCallum?” Susan said. “There’s no way.”

Claire ignored her. “His first class started ten minutes ago. He didn’t call in sick, just didn’t show up. The school called his house and no one’s answering.”

“I think that might be suspicious,” Archie said.