Scream For Me

Chapter Twenty-two

Atlanta , Friday, February 2, 5:50 a.m.

The phone woke him. Beside him, Alex stirred, burrowing her cheek into his chest, her arm hugging his waist. It was an incredible way to wake up.

Daniel squinted at the clock, then at the caller ID, and his heart began to race as he reached across Alex’s warm body for the phone. “Yeah, Chase. What is it?” Alex slid off him onto her side, blinking quickly to full alertness.

“The tail we put on Marianne Woolf called. She pulled out of her driveway and flipped him the bird. She’s off somewhere, alone in her car. He’s right on her bumper.”

A spurt of fury burned inside his chest. “Dammit, Chase. What part of stay inside and lock your doors and windows did one of these women miss? And what’s Jim Woolf thinking, letting his wife do his dirty work for him? How the hell can they jump when this guy snaps his fingers? He murdered Jim’s sister, for God’s sake.”

“Woolf may not know his wife’s on the move. He’s still in lockup. He doesn’t get his bail hearing until this morning.”

“She could just be going out for a jug of milk,” Daniel said without much conviction. “Or having a clandestine affair.”

Chase grunted. “We should only be so lucky. Get moving. I’ll have the tail call you.”

Daniel leaned over Alex to hang up the phone, then leaned in to kiss her mouth. “We have to go.”

“Okay.”

But she was warm and fluid and responding to his simple morning kiss, so he took another, blocking out the world for another few minutes. “We really have to go.”

“Okay.”

But she was lifting to him, her hands in his hair, her mouth hot and hungry, and his heart was suddenly thudding to beat all hell. “How fast can you get ready?”

“Including a shower, fifteen.” She surged against him, impatient. “Hurry, Daniel.”

Pulse pounding in his ears, he drove himself into her wet warmth and she climaxed with a low, startled cry. Three hard thrusts later he followed, shuddering as he buried his face in her hair. Her hands stroked up his spine and he shuddered again. “Are you sure they have grits in Ohio?”

She laughed, a sated, happy sound, and he realized he’d never really heard her laugh like that. He wanted to hear it again. “And scrapple,” she said, then stretched around him and smacked his butt. “Up with you, Vartanian. I want the shower first.”

“I am up,” he muttered, unwilling to withdraw yet, needing another minute before facing what he feared he’d find in yet another ditch. But he lifted his head and saw her sober smile and knew she understood. “I have two showers. You take the master and I’ll take the one in the hall and we’ll see who’s ready first.”

Warsaw, Georgia, Friday, February 2, 7:15 a.m.

He’d been ready first, but not by much. He’d only been waiting at the front door for three minutes when she rushed down his stairs, perfectly coordinated, light makeup on her face and her wet hair in a neat French braid. She would have been faster, she’d insisted, if she hadn’t had to pull all the price tags off her new clothes.

Now Daniel threw a backward glance over his shoulder as he walked from his car to the ditch where Ed already waited. From the front seat of his car Alex gave him a little wave and an encouraging smile and he felt like a first-grader on his first day of school.

“Alex looks better this morning,” Ed said.

“I think so. I took her to Leo’s target range after we left Bailey’s and let her take it all out on a paper target. That and a good night’s sleep seem to have helped.”

Ed lifted a brow. “Amazing what a good night’s sleep will do for you,” he said mildly, and Daniel met his eyes with a half smile.

“That, too,” he acknowledged, and Ed nodded once.

“We moved Marianne Woolf back past the police tape,” Ed said, pointing to where the woman stood snapping pictures with her husband’s camera. “We made sure we strung the tape really far back.”

“What did she say?”

“Unprintable. That woman’s a piece of work.”

Marianne lowered her camera, and from more than a hundred feet away, Daniel could feel her glare. “I don’t understand that woman.” He turned his attention to the ditch. “I don’t understand this perp.”

“It’s the same,” Ed said. “Blanket, face, key, hair around the toe, everything.”

It was a shallow ditch and Malcolm Zuckerman from the ME’s office was well within earshot. “Not everything,” Malcolm said, looking up at them. “She’s older. She’s had a face-lift and collagen injections to her lips, but her hands are wrinkled and tough.”

Daniel frowned and crouched at the ditch’s edge. “How old is she?”

“Fifties, maybe,” Malcolm said. He pulled the blanket away. “You know her?”

The woman had well-teased yellow-blond hair. “No. I don’t think so anyway.” Daniel looked up at Ed in consternation. “He broke pattern. Why?”

“Maybe he tried to get at all the younger ones and they were too careful to be caught alone. Or maybe she’s important to him.”

“Or both,” Daniel said. “Go ahead and bring her up, Malcolm.”

“Daniel?” Alex asked from behind him.

Daniel abruptly turned. “You don’t want to see this, honey. Go back to the car.”

“I’m sure I’ve seen worse. You look upset and… I got worried.”

“It’s not Bailey,” he said, and she relaxed a little. “It’s an older woman this time.”

“Who?”

“We don’t know. Stand back, they’re bringing her up.”

Malcolm and Trey lifted the stretcher out of the ditch and laid the body on the open body bag they’d stretched on the gurney. Behind him, Alex gasped.

Daniel and Ed turned in unison. Alex was standing rigidly still. “I know her. It’s Delia Anderson. She rented me the bungalow. I recognize her hair.”

“At least we know where to deliver the bad news.” He looked at Marianne Woolf. She’d once again lowered her camera, but this time in shock. “And we need to keep Marianne quiet.” He lifted Alex’s chin and studied her face. “Are you all right?”

She nodded brusquely. “I have seen worse, Daniel. Not often, but I have. I’ll go back to the car and wait for you. See you later, Ed.”

Ed was thoughtful as they watched Alex walk back to Daniel’s car. “I’d ask if she had a sister, but that would be in really bad taste.”

Daniel managed to choke back what would have been a startled laugh. It was one of those moments civilians didn’t understand. When the burden got so heavy, dark humor was the only nonaddictive, non-destructive release. “Ed.”

“I know.” Ed glanced at Marianne. “You deal with the bitch, I’ll deal with the ditch.”

This time Daniel couldn’t hold back the chuckle, but dropped his head so nobody could see him smile. When he looked up he was serious.

“I’ll go deal with Mrs. Woolf.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ed was muttering when Daniel walked away.

Marianne was crying. “Marianne, what the hell are you doing here?”

Marianne’s eyes flashed fury despite the tears. “That’s Delia Anderson.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve sat next to her at Angie’s Beauty Shop every Thursday for the last five years,” Marianne snapped. “Nobody has a bouffant like Delia.”

“We’ll have to confirm her identity,” Daniel said. “Why are you here, Marianne?”

“I got a text tip on my cell.”

“You’ve been in communication with a killer.” Daniel said the words slowly, hoping by some miracle they’d sink in. “The killer of your husband’s sister.”

She sneered. “I don’t know that. He never said, ‘I killed them, go see.’ ”

“Just ‘Go see where there happens to be a freshly killed body.’ ” Daniel rolled his eyes. “I don’t see the difference, Marianne.”

Her chin lifted. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.”

“Why are you and Jim doing this? Please help me understand.”

Marianne sighed. “Jim’s dad ran that paper for years. It was his life-a sweet little small-town paper where the biggest news was the high school football scores. Jim always dreamed it could be more, but his father wouldn’t let him try. When his father died, Jim took over, retooled everything. I know you think it’s stupid…” Again her chin lifted. “But it’s his dream. He got offers from some big-city papers for this story, and it’s a story that needs to be told. He’s in jail, so I’m telling it until he’s out.”

Daniel wanted to shake her. “But you’re letting a killer use you.”

She lifted her brows. “Aren’t you? You can’t say that this case and this killer haven’t gotten even more attention because you’ve been investigating.” Her voice became grand. Mocking. “The great Daniel Vartanian, son of a judge, brother of a serial killer. But Daniel has risen above it all, sworn protector of truth, justice, and the American way.” She cocked her jaw. “It’s enough to bring a tear to your eye.”

Daniel stared at her, stunned. “What about Lisa? Don’t you think she deserves more than this?”

Marianne actually smiled. “Lisa would be the first one cheering me on, Daniel.”

He stared, completely taken aback. “I don’t understand you.”

“No, I suppose you don’t. I guess that’s why it’s a good thing we still have the Bill of Rights.” She popped the memory card from her camera and glanced up at the barrel-chested agent who’d been her tail. “I’ll go with Tiny here and make you guys a copy of the pictures. It’s what Jim told me to do if I got caught.”

“Can you at least refrain from printing anything until we’ve notified the Andersons?”

Marianne nodded, her disdain gone for the moment. “Yes. On that we can agree.”

Atlanta, Friday, February 2, 8:50 a.m.

“So how does this woman connect?” Chase demanded. Ed had stayed at the crime scene, Talia was interviewing rape victims, and Hatton and Koenig were still at Peachtree and Pine searching for Crighton. Luke sat next to Daniel at the team room table, absorbed in whatever was on the screen of his laptop.

“She used to work at the Davis Bank in Dutton,” Luke said. “It’s on her real estate website. She lists Davis Bank as a lender for qualified home buyers.”

“That doesn’t seem motive enough to kill her,” Chase said doubtfully. “What have you found out about Jared O’Brien’s family?”

“Only what I was able to glean from the Internet,” Luke said. “But you’re gonna like it. The O’Briens used to own the Dutton paper mill. Larry O’Brien had two sons. Jared was the oldest and went to Bryson Academy. He was the same age as Simon. From the yearbooks it appears Jared was quite the ladies’ man. He was homecoming king and prom king during his graduation year.” Luke passed them a copy of Jared’s yearbook picture. “He was a handsome guy. Jared’s younger brother was Mack. Mack was nine years younger.” He paused and lifted his brows.

Daniel sucked in a breath. “Then he went to high school with Janet and the others.”

“At the beginning, yes,” Luke said, “but if you check the yearbooks, Mack transferred to the public school some time between his junior and senior years. He was too young to be on any of the lists of males Simon’s age and he didn’t go to Bryson Academy during the years we checked on the murdered women. Larry O’Brien, the father, died of a heart attack about a year after Simon died the first time. Jared, as the oldest son, took over the mill. There aren’t a lot of public records, but there seem to have been a lot of people out of work, so it doesn’t seem like Jared was a stellar businessman.”

“Kate said he was a drunk,” Daniel said. “I know he had a record. I had Leigh run him-Jared O’Brien was arrested for DUI twice in Georgia.”

“Jared disappeared the year Mack was a junior in high school,” Luke said. “The mill goes belly-up because Jared spent all the money, and the mill gets bought out by guess who?”

Chase sighed. “Who?”

“Rob Davis.”

Daniel’s mouth opened. “No way.”

“Way,” Luke said. “The father’s widow, Lila O’Brien, declares bankruptcy a few months later.”

“And Mack transfers to the public school.” Daniel lifted his brows. “The timing works. The O’Briens must not have gotten much from the sale if Mack had to transfer.”

“The mill’s privately owned, so the terms aren’t in the public record,” Luke said, “but I’d say that assumption is fair.”

“So we may have a motive for revenge against the Davises,” Chase said, “but the rest of this? How would Mack even know about the ‘club’? He would have been nine years old at the time. And what about Jared? He disappeared, but nobody’s found a body. For all we know, Jared could have come back and started all this.”

“That’s possible, except for this next piece.” Luke paused dramatically. “Mack got arrested for assault and grand theft auto in his senior year of high school. He was already eighteen, so he got tried as an adult and sent to prison. He served four of a twelve-year sentence, then was paroled. One month ago.”

“Whoa.” Daniel wanted to grin, but held it back. There were still too many gaps they had to fill. “It all fits, but we need to know why he killed Janet and the others, why he mimicked Alicia’s death, and like Chase said, how he even knew about all this.”

“Then let’s find him and bring him in for a few questions,” Chase said dangerously. “You got a photo, Luke?”

Luke slid one across the table. “That’s his mug.”

Daniel studied Mack O’Brien’s face. His hair was dark and greasy, his body thin and scrawny, and he had terrible pockmarks on his face from acute acne. “Doesn’t look much like Jared,” he commented. “Let’s get out an APB.”

“I’ll contact the parole board for a more recent photo,” Luke said. “For now, this is better than nothing.”

“What about the rest of Jared O’Brien’s family?” Chase asked.

“His mother died while Mack was in prison,” Luke said. “Jared left a wife and two little boys behind. They live out past Arcadia.”

“You got all this from the Internet?” Daniel asked.

“Dutton’s newspaper is online now, up to ten years ago.” Luke shrugged. “It’s one of the things Jim Woolf has done to modernize. Plus the birth and death records are filed at the county seat and Mack’s arrest record was on our books. He was sentenced here in Atlanta, by the way. Not in Dutton.”

“Who was the arresting officer?” Daniel asked.

“Guy by the name of Smits, out of Zone 2.”

“Thanks, I’ll talk to him.” Daniel looked at Chase. “We need to notify the Andersons ASAP, but I’d also like to talk to Jared’s widow.”

Chase nodded. “I’ll inform the Andersons. We already have both Davis and Mansfield under surveillance. If they try to bolt, we’ll grab ’em.”

“Chase.” Leigh ran into the room, Alex at her heels; both were pale. “Koenig just called. They found Crighton, but he pulled a gun and got Hatton in the shoulder.”

“How bad?” Chase demanded.

“Bad,” Leigh said. “They rushed him to Emory. He’s in critical condition. Koenig’s at the hospital now. Koenig was hit, too, but not as bad.”

Chase drew a breath. “Their wives?”

“Koenig’s called them. They’re both on their way.”

Chase nodded. “All right. I’ll contact the Andersons, then head over. Luke, I want everything we can get on Mack O’Brien, down to what breakfast cereal he ate as a kid. Get financials on the others-Mansfield, and both Garth and his uncle.”

“I’ll call you when I have something.” Luke left, laptop under his arm.

Chase turned to Daniel. “Crighton can wait. They’ll put him in the tank until we’re ready to deal with him.”

“You’re right. I’ll go see Jared’s wife.”

“Wait,” Leigh said. “Your FedExes just came. From Cincinnati and Philly.”

“The keys,” Daniel said. He ripped open the envelopes and slid the keys onto the table. It was easy to see which of the five keys Ciccotelli had sent from Philadelphia was the right one-it was almost identical to the one Alex’s ex had sent. Daniel held up both keys, one in each hand. “They’re not for the same lock, but the keys themselves look like they’re from the same manufacturer.”

“Safe-deposit box?” Chase asked, and Daniel nodded.

“I’m betting so.”

“Garth’s uncle’s bank?” Chase asked, and Daniel nodded again.

“I can’t go storming into Davis’s bank demanding access to boxes without a warrant, and even when I get one, it’s tipping our hand.”

“Call Chloe, get the warrants started,” Chase said. “Once we get more information, we’ll at least have a jump on the paperwork.”

“That’s a plan. Alex, you have to stay here. I’m sorry. I can’t be worried about your safety and do all of this.”

Her jaw tightened. “Okay. I understand.”

He pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. “Do not leave this building. Do you promise?”

“I’m not stupid, Daniel.”

He scowled. “No evasions, Alex. Promise me.”

She sighed. “I promise.”

Arcadia, Georgia, Friday, February 2, 10:30 a.m.

Jared O’Brien’s wife lived in a house the size of a crackerbox. She answered the door wearing a waitress uniform and a weary expression. “Annette O’Brien?”

She nodded. “Yes, that’s me.”

She didn’t seem surprised to see him, only tired. “I’m Special Agent-”

“You’re Simon Vartanian’s brother,” she interrupted. “Come in.”

She crossed her tiny living room in a few steps, picking up a shirt, a pair of small shoes, a toy truck as she walked. “You have children,” he said.

“Two. Joey and Seth. Joey is seven. Seth turned five just before Christmas.”

That meant she would have been pregnant with her younger son when her husband disappeared. “You don’t seem surprised to see me, Mrs. O’Brien.”

“I’m not. In fact, I’ve been waiting for you to come for more than five years.” Her eyes shadowed with apprehension. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. But I have to get protection for my kids. They’re the only reason I haven’t said anything until now.”

“Protection from whom, Mrs. O’Brien?”

She met his gaze unflinchingly. “You know, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“Fair enough. So when did you find out what Jared and the others had done?”

“After he disappeared. I thought he’d run off with another woman. I was pregnant with Seth and getting too fat for… well, I thought he’d be back.”

Daniel felt anger at Jared and pity for Annette. If Alex were pregnant, she’d still be the most beautiful woman in the world to him. “But he didn’t come back.”

“No, and after a few weeks the bank account was empty and we were hungry.”

“What about Jared’s mother?”

She shook her head wearily. “She was out of the country with Mack. Rome, I think.”

“You had no money for food and his mother was in Rome? I don’t understand.”

“Jared never wanted his mother to know how badly he’d messed up his daddy’s mill. His mother was used to a certain standard of living and he made sure she had it. We did, too, on the surface. We lived in a big house, drove fancy cars. But we had no credit with the bank and no cash. Jared kept a tight hold on the finances. He gambled.”

“And drank.”

“Yes. When he didn’t come back, I started searching all the places he hid money.” She drew a deep breath. “And that’s when I found his journals. Jared had kept one religiously since he was a boy.”

Daniel had to fight to keep from punching at the air in glee. “Where are they?”

“I’ll get them for you.” She went to the fireplace and jostled an interior brick loose.

“Risky place to hide a journal,” Daniel commented.

“Jared hid them in the garage with the spare parts for his ’Vette. My sons and I moved here after we lost everything. Seth has bad allergies, so we never use the fireplace. It’s safe enough.” She’d been working at the brick as she spoke and finally pulled it free. Then she sat, pale, openmouthed and staring. “That’s… not possible.”

Daniel felt all his glee fizzle away. He walked to the fireplace and looked in the empty hole and suddenly pieces of the puzzle began to slide into place.

“Let’s sit down.” When they had, he leaned forward, keeping his expression calm because Annette appeared on the verge of hysteria. “Has Mack been here to visit?”

The look she gave him was one of genuine shock. “No. He’s in prison.”

“Not anymore,” he said, and she paled further. “He was paroled a month ago.”

“I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know.”

“Have you noticed anything else missing?”

“Yes. My tip money that I keep in a jar in my bedroom disappeared about a month ago. I blamed Joey for taking it.” She covered her mouth with a trembling hand. “Then two weeks ago it happened again-my tips and the cookies I’d baked for the kids’ lunches. I spanked Joey and called him a liar.” Tears filled her eyes. “Like his daddy.”

“We can deal with that later,” Daniel said gently. “For now, can you tell me what you remember from the journals?”

Her eyes had gone glassy with panic. “Mack was here. My boys are at school. They’re not safe if Mack’s around.”

Daniel knew he couldn’t expect her to be helpful when she was panicked over her kids. He called Sheriff Corchran in Arcadia and asked him to pick the boys up from school, then turned to Annette, who was visibly struggling for control. “Corchran said he’d let them run his lights and siren. They’ll have a ball. Don’t worry.”

“Thank you.” She closed her eyes, still very pale. “Mack is out of prison, the journals are gone, and four women are murdered just like Alicia Tremaine.”

Five women, Daniel thought. Annette O’Brien must have missed the morning news.

She looked at him, her eyes stark and desolate. “Mack killed those women.”

“You knew him. Could he have done it? Would he?”

“He would and he could,” she whispered. “My God. I should have destroyed them when I had the chance.”

“The journals?” Daniel asked, and she nodded. “Please, Mrs. O’Brien, can you tell me what you remember from the journals?”

“They had a club. Your brother, Simon, was the president. Jared never mentioned any real names. They used nicknames.” She sighed wearily. “They were stupid boys.”

“Who raped a number of women,” Daniel said harshly.

She frowned as his meaning became clear. “In no way am I excusing what they did, Agent Vartanian,” she said quietly. “Make no mistake about that. This was not a boys-will-be-boys prank. What they did was obscene and… evil.”

“I’m sorry, I misunderstood. Please go on.”

“They were boys when it started, fifteen or sixteen. They made up this game, had rules, a secret code, keys… It was so stupid.” She swallowed. “And so horrible.”

“So if Jared didn’t mention names, how did you know Simon was the president?”

“They called him Captain Ahab. Simon was the only one in Dutton I knew with a fake leg, so I put two and two together. Jared put in the journal that nobody called him Ahab to his face, just Captain. They were all afraid of him.”

“With good reason,” Daniel murmured. “What other nicknames did Jared mention?”

“Bluto and Igor. Jared wrote how they always hung around together, and once he slipped and wrote something about Bluto’s father being Mayor McCheese. Garth Davis’s father was the mayor at the time. I guessed Igor was Rhett Porter.”

“Garth’s uncle bought the mill after Jared died,” Daniel noted, and her eyes flared.

“Yes, for pennies on the dollar. We were left with nothing. But you didn’t come here for that. The others… Well, there was Sweetpea. I was never sure if that was Randy Mansfield or one of the Woolf brothers. Jared thought it was funny that they called him Sweetpea because the boy didn’t like it. It was some aspersion against his manliness. It was how they convinced him to join.” Her lips twisted. “ ‘Have sex with these girls. Prove you’re a man.’ It made me sick.”

“You’ve given me four nicknames,” Daniel said. “What was Jared’s nickname?”

She looked away, but not before he saw the pain and shame in her eyes. “Don Juan, DJ for short. He was the ladies’ man of the group. Jared lured most of the girls.”

“And the other two?”

“Po’boy and Harvard. Po’boy was Wade Crighton. Of that I’m completely sure.”

“Why?”

“The boys had to deliver a girl to the group as part of their initiation. They were divided on whether or not to let Wade in. He was the poor boy. His dad worked in the mill.” Her expression grew grim. “But Wade had assets. He had three sisters.”

Daniel’s stomach lurched. “My God.”

“I know,” she murmured. “The club was angry that ‘Po’boy’ refused to bring his real sister, but the consolation prize was twins.”

Panicked bile rose in his throat. “Wade brought both girls?”

“No. They got mad because they’d been all excited to ‘do twins’ and then Po’boy only brought one. He told them the other was sick and couldn’t leave the house.”

“So they raped Alicia.”

“Yes.” Annette’s eyes filled. “Like they did all the others. I… couldn’t believe what I was reading. I’d married this man. Had babies with him…” Her voice trailed away.

“Mrs. O’Brien,” Daniel said softly. “What did they do to the girls?”

She wiped her eyes with her fingertips. “They’d give them a date-rape drug and take them to a house. Jared never said whose. They’d…” She looked up, pained. “Please, don’t make me describe that part. It makes me sick to think about.”

He didn’t need her description. He’d seen the pictures in obscene detail. “Okay.”

“Thank you. When it was over, they’d put the girls in their cars, pour whiskey on their clothes, and leave them with an empty bottle. They’d take pictures to show the girls in case they remembered. They made it look consensual so that the girls wouldn’t talk.”

Daniel frowned. None of the pictures he’d seen had incriminated any of the men, and not one looked the least bit consensual. “Did any of the girls remember?”

She nodded dully. “Sheila. And now she’s dead. I can’t get her out of my mind.”

Neither could Daniel. “Go on,” he said, and she drew herself straighter.

“That night, they left Alicia in the woods when they were… finished. In the months before Alicia, Jared had written that he wondered what it would feel like if they were awake.” Annette’s eyes were haunted. “He wanted to ‘hear them scream.’ So that night he went back. He waited until Alicia was waking up, attacked her again, and she started to scream. But they weren’t too far from the Crightons’ house, and Jared all of a sudden realized he didn’t want her screaming after all.”

“So he smothered her to make her be quiet.”

“And then he panicked when he realized she was dead. He ran away and left her there, dead and naked in the woods. He wrote all this when he came back from killing her. He was… exhilarated. Then the next day, they found Alicia’s body in the ditch and Jared was as puzzled as everyone else. He thought it was funny. The others in the club were totally freaked and he alone knew he’d killed her and because that drifter was arrested, he’d get away with it, too.”

And Gary Fulmore had spent thirteen years in prison for a crime he hadn’t committed. “What about the seventh man? Harvard?”

“Again, I always thought that was one of the Woolf brothers. Especially Jim. He was always kind of an egghead.” One side of her mouth lifted sadly. “After you, of course. You had the best grades.”

Daniel frowned. “Did I know you back then?”

“No. But everyone heard about you from Mr. Grant.”

His old English teacher. “He talked about me?”

“He talked about all his favorites. He said you memorized a poem and won a prize.”

“ ‘Death be not proud,’ ” Daniel murmured. “What happened after you found the journals?”

“I knew that Jared hadn’t just run away. I knew they’d disposed of him. In the last few passages, Jared said he was afraid. That when he’d get drunk, he’d talk, and it was getting harder not to talk about what they’d done.”

“He was having remorse?” Daniel asked, surprised.

“No. Remorse was not in Jared’s vocabulary. His business was going under. He’d gambled away two family fortunes, mine and his. He wished he could tell everyone what he’d done to Alicia. They’d be amazed. But if he told, the others would kill him.”

“So he wanted to brag.” Daniel shook his head.

“He was scum. So when he died, part of me was relieved, but the rest of me was terrified. I thought, what if the others knew that I knew? They’d kill me, too, and Joey. I was pregnant and I didn’t have anywhere to go. I waited, terrified, thinking someone would come into my house in the night and kill me.

“A few weeks passed. The mill went under and Jared’s mother had to file bankruptcy. I’d walk down Main Street with my head down. I’m sure most people thought I was ashamed of the bankruptcy, but I was terrified. I knew that some of the men I knew had done those things. I knew sooner or later they’d see it in my eyes. So I sold what we had left and moved here. I got a job and made ends meet.”

“And you kept the journals.”

“Insurance. I figured if they ever bothered me, I could use them as leverage.”

“What about Jared’s mother?”

“Lila tried to get a loan from the bank. She went to the bank and begged.” Her jaw tightened. “On her knees. She begged Rob Davis on her knees and he turned her down flat.”

“That had to have been humiliating for your mother-in-law.”

“You have no idea,” she said bitterly. “One of the tellers told everyone she’d seen Lila on her knees in front of Davis.” A hot flush spread across Annette’s cheeks. “The way Delia said it made it seem like Lila was doing something perverted. The very thought… Lila never even knew an act like that existed, much less considered doing it to Rob Davis.”

Daniel kept his face neutral, even though he’d tensed inside. “Delia?”

“Yeah,” Annette said with contempt. “Delia Anderson, that slut. Everyone knew she was having an affair with Rob Davis. She probably still is. And she had the nerve to spread that lie about Lila. Lila had a bad heart, and after that, everything went downhill. She had to sell everything, too. She had to pull Mack out of Bryson Academy and he was furious. He was wild. He scared me, even before I knew what Jared had done.”

Now the murders of both Sean and Delia made sense. “Mack was violent?”

“Oh, yes. Mack got into fights all the time, even before the bankruptcy. He never got in trouble. Somehow all the charges would just go away. I thought it was O’Brien money until I found out there wasn’t any left. When I found the journals, I knew. All the others had been supporting Jared, giving him enough money to get by, to stay one step ahead of the IRS and his creditors. They must’ve smoothed the way for Mack, too.”

“That makes sense. I would have come to the same conclusion.”

Her smile was sad. “Thank you. Most of the time when I thought about telling anyone, I thought they’d think I was crazy. That maybe I’d made it all up. And then…”

“And then?”

“Then I’d pull the brick out just enough to prove to myself the journals were still there. And I’d know I wasn’t crazy.”

“When was the last time you pulled out the brick?”

“The day they dug up your brother’s grave and found someone else buried there I thought, ‘Now I should tell. Somebody will believe me.’ ”

“Why didn’t you?” he asked gently.

“Because I’m a coward. I kept hoping one of you guys would figure it all out. That you’d come and make me tell and that I could tell myself I had no choice. And because I didn’t tell, all those girls are dead.” She looked up, her eyes bright with tears. “I have to live with that for the rest of my life. I don’t think you have any idea how that feels.”

You’d be surprised. “You’re telling me now. That’s the important thing.”

She blinked, sending the tears down her face, and she wiped them away. “I’ll testify.”

“Thank you. Mrs. O’Brien, do you know about any keys?”

“Yes. Simon took pictures of all of the attacks. If one told, they’d all go down, and the pictures kept everyone ‘honest.’ Simon kept the pictures as insurance. He never did any of the rapes, he just took the pictures.”

“So what about the keys?”

“Simon kept the pictures in a safe-deposit box at the bank. It was a special box that needed two keys. Simon had one and everyone else had copies of the other. That way it balanced the power. When Simon died the first time, Jared was terrified it would all come out, but time passed and no key was found. Why, do you have it now?”

He let the question pass and asked one of his own. “Did you find Jared’s key?”

“No, but he did have a picture of it in the journal. A drawing, like he’d traced it.”

“Did Jared say under which name the safe-deposit box was listed?” he asked, and held his breath until she nodded.

“Charles Wayne Bundy. I remember being horrified. And I remember thinking that would be an important detail to keep inside my head in case I ever got pressed to tell. That maybe that would buy protection for my children. But you’ve already promised me that, so… there you are.”

Charles Manson. John Wayne Gacy. And Ted Bundy. It all fit. Simon had had a fascination with serial killers as a teenager, copying their art. Susannah had been the one to find the art he’d hidden under his bed all those years ago. This was gold. If Simon had taken incriminating photos of the rapists to ensure their compliance, Daniel would have all the proof he needed once he got the contents of that box.

“Do you have any idea of where Mack might hide?”

“If I did, I’d tell you. I know he’s not in his old house. It was torn down while he was in prison.”

Daniel raised his brows. “Why?”

“Someone broke in and ripped everything up. The walls, the floors. What was left wasn’t worth saving.”

Daniel thought of Alex’s bungalow. “They were looking for the key.”

“Probably. Rob Davis benefited. After the house was gone, he bought the land dirt cheap and put in a warehouse for the mill. I can’t see Mack hiding there. It’s used daily.”

He’d check it out anyway. They had to find Mack O’Brien before he killed again. And he was a warrant away from identifying the final member of Simon’s club. Charles Wayne Bundy’s safe-deposit box awaits.

“Thank you, Mrs. O’Brien. You’ve been more help than you know. Let’s go get your boys and we’ll get you someplace safe. We can send someone for your things.”

Annette nodded and followed him out the door, and she didn’t look back.