Pulse

79

Quinn sat at his Q and A desk and wondered. What was the secret, or secrets, connecting Waycliffe College, Enders and Coil, and the series of young women’s deaths? Victims who sometimes bore striking resemblances to Pearl.

If he was a copycat killer, this murderer had done his homework. Macy Collins, interning at Enders and Coil, might have learned something she shouldn’t have, and paid with her life. The method of that madness was eerily like that of Daniel Danielle. Perhaps Macy had triggered the other murders, reenergized the bloodlust. Possibly this killer was the real Daniel Danielle, and not a copycat.

It was unlikely, though, that Daniel had survived the hurricane-spawned tornadoes of central Florida.

Most likely his was among the many unrecovered bodies after the deadly hurricane, and the copycat had known the police would at least have to investigate with Daniel Danielle in mind.

Quinn couldn’t keep his mind from picking at the subject.

How might Jody fit in? After all, she was a student at Waycliffe.

No doubt she’d asked herself the same question.

What’s the thread connecting a victim of Daniel Danielle’s-or a copycat’s-to Enders and Coil, and to Waycliffe College? Quinn’s mood became grim. And possibly to Pearl’s daughter, Jody?

The phone jangled so abruptly it made his body jerk.

There’s such a thing as concentrating too hard.

He reached for the receiver and pressed it to his ear, at the same time glancing at caller ID.

“Whaddya know, Jerry?” he asked Lido.

“Something you should,” Lido said. “I was on my computer, giving my browser a workout, when it came up with something interesting. A couple of kids trying to camp out illegally and build a fire pit dug it up.”

“Fire pit?”

“Yeah. They dig down a couple of feet so they can build a fire slightly below ground level and it won’t be spotted from a distance.”

“Smart.”

“Not this time. They happened to be on top of a shallow grave and dug up a body.”

Quinn had been leaning back in his chair. He let it tilt forward. “When did this happen?”

“Last night. Kids had their cell phones handy and called it in right away. Creeped the hell out of them. That was the end of the camping trip.”

“Body identified?”

“Not yet. Woman probably in her twenties, average size, what look like knife nicks on some bones, like she was tortured with a blade. Body bent back and bound. She was buried in an awkward position.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“Yeah. The ropes hadn’t rotted completely away. Neither had the tape that was used as a gag.”

“Ropes rotted away? How old is this body?”

“The M.E. there figures at least twenty-five years.”

“Where’s there?”

“Near Leighton, Wisconsin.”

“Long way from here. Long time ago.”

“They might know who it is. Girl named Sherri Klinger, disappeared in nineteen eighty-six. Her family’s since moved out of the area. Father died five years ago. A mother’s all that’s left. They’ve contacted her, but I can’t scare up any info on that yet.”

Quinn was silent for a while, trying to process this.

“It might mean nothing,” he said.

“Yeah, but I got a couple of things I’d like to fax to you. A police artist’s drawing of how the dead woman might have looked with flesh on her. Also, there are some old photographs of Sherri Klinger.”

Even as Lido was speaking, the fax machine on the other side of the office started to click and buzz.

“Coming through,” Quinn said, and the two men sat and waited.

When the buzzing and clicking stopped, and a beeper sounded, Quinn stood up and went over to the fax machine.

He drew four pages from the plastic basket. The first was the police artist’s rendition of how the dead woman might have looked when alive, front and profile. The three accompanying pages were copies of old newspaper photos of Sherri Klinger.

All of them looked like Pearl.

Quinn stood staring for several seconds then, carrying the faxes, returned to his desk.

“Pearl,” he said.

“Not exactly,” Lido said, “but it could be her sister. Anyway, that was the first body.”

“What?”

“A cadaver dog found another body, buried about twenty feet from Sherri’s Klinger’s grave. Young woman, killed the same way as Sherri. Haven’t identified that one yet.”

“She’ll resemble Pearl,” Quinn said.

And then said something else, under his breath:

“Daniel Danielle.”