Dead River (25 page)

“What make and color car does he drive?”

“Oh, I think it’s an older model Oldsmobile, Cutlass I believe.”

“What color?”

“It’s black.”

“Do you know the year?”

“Hell no, I don’t know the year.”

“What’s his name?”

“David Sikes.”

“Where does he live?”

“Frontenac.”

“Where’s that?”

“A few miles south of here.”

“Thank you, Mr. McCarthy. Now if you would, go wake up your wife and ask her to come down.”

“Why do you want to talk to her? I’ve told you everything.”

“You have and I appreciate that. But I’d like to ask her a few questions too.”

“Yeah, all right.”

Within ten minutes Sally McCarthy walked into the kitchen. She wore a white terry-cloth robe, and her feet were bare. Goldman thought Sally was pretty. Her hair was dark, almost black, and her eyes a deep blue. In spite of her forty-seven years, she still had a shapely figure. Her husband was another story, but she worked out at least four times a week. And it showed.

One of the deputy sheriffs got up from his chair and offered it to Sally.

“I’m sorry we had to intrude on you at this hour, Mrs. McCarthy, but something has happened and we need your help,” Goldman explained.

“Yes, Joe told me about the letter with our son’s name and phone number on it. I have no idea how that happened. I’m glad you don’t think Jack had anything to do with those murders.”

“We don’t.” Goldman paused for a moment and stared at Sally sitting in the kitchen chair. “I want to talk to you about the man who stayed here while you and your husband were in Colorado.”

“Oh yes, David Sikes. He even took us to the airport and picked us up when we got back. Nice man.”

Goldman looked into her eyes. He asked questions about David Sikes, personal questions that he knew Sally would be able to answer. He jotted notes in his small notepad. Then he turned to Joe and questioned him about Sikes’s work habits, if he knew of any hobbies Sikes had, or peculiar habits.

“Mr. Goldman, this is becoming scary,” Sally said with a shiver in her voice.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I’m thinking back to the conversation Joe and I had with David on the way back from the airport. He talked almost the whole time about the two murders. He knew everything about them. He told us he closely followed the news coverage on TV. We tried to ask him about the house, if everything went all right, you know normal stuff you’d ask after being away for a while.”

“But he only wanted to talk about the murders?”

“That’s right.”

The case was beginning to unfurl, pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. However, there was one piece Goldman hadn’t figured out, but he had a hunch. How had the killer gotten Sara Ann Riley into his car?

Goldman was certain that Gabriel’s Koinonia Agnos, his Society of the Pure, was a brotherhood of one. And he’d updated it, modernized how business was conducted. He was a new-age preceptor, without the faction of loyal followers, the probata, whose sole responsibility was to track down and apprehend women who corrupted society. Gabriel acted alone, and as such, he had to resort to a more creative means of apprehending the evil-doers.

“Do you own a gun, Mr. McCarthy?”

“I have a revolver in the bedroom, for protection.”

“Do you mind if we take a look at it?” Goldman asked.

“Sure, but I’d like to put on a pair of pants first.”

“Let’s go.”

McCarthy led one of the deputies and Goldman to the bedroom. He pulled on a pair of blue jeans and then opened his nightstand drawer. He reached toward the back of the drawer. His forehead wrinkled. He tried again, his hands searching the back of the drawer.

He straightened up and looked at Goldman. “Damn, it’s gone!”

“Maybe you locked it up in a safe before you left for Colorado?”

“Naw. I always keep it right here.” McCarthy pointed to the open drawer.

“What kind of gun is it?”

“A revolver, Smith & Wesson, .38 special. It’s got a three-inch barrel, with a blue finish.”

Goldman wrote more in his notepad. “Is it registered to you?”

“Of course it’s registered to me.”

“Do you have the serial number written down somewhere?”

“It’s in my safe at work.”

“I’ll need to get that from you tomorrow.”

McCarthy scratched his exposed stomach in a circular motion and shook his head. “Shit, I can’t believe that asshole took my gun.”

“You think Sikes took it.”

“Who the hell else would?”

The three rejoined the others in the kitchen.

“Would both of you come to the Cocoa Beach Police Station tomorrow morning at eight-thirty?” Goldman asked.

McCarthy looked over toward his wife then shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose. But what for?”

“I want you to listen to an audio tape.”

 55

THE NEXT MORNING the McCarthys met Glenn Wilkerson at the Cocoa Beach Police Station at eight-thirty. Wilkerson led them to a sterile-feeling interrogation room with bright lighting and a tape recorder resting in the middle of a large table. On one side of the room was a two-way mirror that spanned almost the entire wall.

“Agent Goldman should be here any minute,” Wilkerson announced. “Would you two like a cup of coffee?”

Joe McCarthy declined, but Sally accepted the offer. Wilkerson left and returned with two Styrofoam cups filled with piping-hot black coffee. The three sat in the room, waiting. Wilkerson checked his watch as he sipped his steaming coffee, Joe tapped his fingers on the table, and Sally blew into her cup to cool the hot java.

The door to the room swung open. “Good morning,” Goldman said. He sat in the remaining chair. “Let’s get to it.”

Wilkerson had the audio tape loaded in the machine.

“This is the first recording of the killer’s voice,” Wilkerson said. “He talks to Valerie Riley.”

Wilkerson pressed the play button. At first only noise blared from the small speakers. The McCarthys listened as the wavering hiss filled the room, and then a voice came. “Adam Riley will answer the phone,” Wilkerson said.

“Hello?”

“Let me speak to Valerie.” The metallic voice resonated in the small room.

“Who’s this?”

“I said, let me speak to Valerie.”

There was dead air except for the tape hiss. Wilkerson looked at the McCarthys. “Valerie Riley takes the phone.”

“He—llo?”

“I have you daughter.”

“Where is she?”

“I’m sorry I had to take her.”

“But—but why? Where is she?”

“Valerie, my dear, I don’t have much time.”

“Is she all right?”

“I want you to know that this is not a ransom call. Sara Ann will be returned to you.”

“Then what do you want? Tell us what you want.”

“You will get a letter. Today. I will call again.”

There was a click, and then tape hiss again filled the room. Wilkerson punched the pause button.

Goldman looked at the McCarthys. Joe appeared puzzled. He rubbed his colossal noggin. Sally reacted differently to the metallic voice. Her face was ashen.

“Mrs. McCarthy, are you all right?” Goldman asked.

“Please play it again.”

Wilkerson pressed rewind, and the tape whizzed then stopped. Then he pressed play. Sally leaned forward, close to the tape recorder. She cocked her head slightly to the right and moved even closer.

About halfway through the recording tape, Sally suddenly slapped her right hand over her mouth and stared at Goldman. Her large blue eyes showed terror. Wilkerson stopped the machine.

“What is it?” Goldman asked.

“Good God, it’s him.”

“It’s who?’

“David Sikes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Sally brushed the hair from her face. “But why does his voice sound like that?”

“He’s trying to distort it electronically. Every call he’s made so far is like that.”

Sally shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I can tell it’s him. That’s David Sikes I just heard.”

Goldman looked at Joe McCarthy. “What do you think? Does the voice sound like David Sikes?”

“At first I couldn’t tell, but I think my wife’s right.”

“Have you two ever heard Sikes talk about a man by the name of Gabriel?”

Joe looked puzzled. “Gabriel?” he asked.

“Or refer to himself as Gabriel?”

Sally shook her head and looked at her husband. “Never. Have you, Joe?”

“No.” Joe answered. “Who’s Gabriel?”

“It’s really not important,” Goldman told them.

But it was important, very much so. Goldman’s multiple-personality theory was becoming more plausible.

 56

THE MCCARTHYS WERE TOLD the importance of keeping quiet about Sikes. In fact, “remain tight-lipped” were the words Goldman used. He explained that they could be asked to give depositions and possibly testify in court. This seemed to make Joe a little jumpy.

Goldman pointed toward the tape recorder. “This tape, along with your testimony, could be critical in the case,” he explained.

“We understand,” Sally said.

“But I need something else from you.”

“What can we do?” Joe asked, as he checked his wrist watch.

“There may be valuable evidence in your house,” explained Goldman. “Especially in the bedroom where Sikes stayed. So please don’t go in there. Forensics will need to go through your entire house.”

“We haven’t touched a thing in that room, Mr. Goldman,” Sally said.

“Good.”

“Joe never goes in that room, and the last time I was in there was just before we left for Colorado. You know, straightening up things, making up the bed for David.”

“Please don’t wash any dirty dishes or glasses that Sikes may have used either.”

Sally showed her shiny-white, clenched teeth. “That may be a problem.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because there weren’t any dirty dishes when we returned.”

“None?”

“None. In fact, he not only left the kitchen sparkling, he cleaned the entire house, even vacuumed, and scrubbed the bathrooms.”

Goldman rubbed his chin, then the side of his face. “Gave you the royal treatment, didn’t he?”

“When we arrived at the house from the airport, he told us he’d cleaned the entire house, including his bedroom. He said it was his way of thanking us for letting him stay there. Imagine that, him thanking us?”

“Yes, I can imagine it,” Goldman said.

“Joe and I agreed he could stay there any time we went out of town.” Sally took a deep breath then let it out and lowered her head. “But not now.”

The investigative wheels were turning, more like spinning. Goldman had a background check run on Sikes, put his apartment building in Frontenac on a twenty-four-hour stake out, and had Wilkerson working with the Brevard Sheriff’s forensic team scouring the McCarthy house. He was now a step ahead of Sikes. The possibility of an arrest made Goldman shiver with excitement. No matter how many of these cases he’d worked over the years, they all felt like the first. That is, the first one that led to an arrest.