DF08 - The Night Killer (39 page)

There was a time when Izzy and Diane didn’t get along. He was Frank’s friend and didn’t think she was good enough for him—his opinion helped along by the rumor mill. But they had a shared tragedy: They both had lost a child. Izzy looked at a lot of things differently now. And now they were friends. Normally, Izzy was a very blunt friend, and she appreciated his attempt at comfort. Diane dropped her hand and sat down to think.

“When was Andie taken?” she asked. “I last saw her when she poked her head in my office. That was sometime after three yesterday afternoon.”

“We went up to see Beth in Archives right after that,” Liam said. “Then we had an early dinner in the restaurant. We finished a little after four. I left for the nursing home and she was going back into the building.”

“Did you see her go back in?” asked Diane.

“No, she waved until I was out of sight. I watched her in my rearview mirror.”

“It was daylight still,” said Diane. She paused and looked at Izzy.

“The parking-lot cameras.”

Diane pressed her hands to her forehead. “Think, damn it,” she whispered.

She sat down in front of the computer and called up the program that ran her security videos. She started with the videos from three o’clock. Izzy and Liam pulled up chairs beside her.

Diane sped through the three-to-four-o’clock period quickly, taking note of cars coming and going, looking for anomalies, particularly vans, campers—enclosed vehicles that could conceal a victim. There were many that could have concealed Andie. None looked like they were trying to hide or showed anything out of the ordinary.

At four fifteen, Andie and Liam walked out of the museum and to his car. They kissed, rather passionately, before he got in his car. Liam drove off and Andie waved for a few moments. She looked so sweet standing there. Andie—optimistic, happy with life, naive, trusting. Andie, who decorated her office as if she were expecting Peter Rabbit’s mother for tea.

Damn it
, thought Diane.
Damn him, whoever he is.

In the video Andie turned and started walking back to the museum but stopped, turned to the east, and smiled at something out of range. Diane switched cameras, starting from three o’clock. She couldn’t see anything or anyone that might have attracted Andie’s attention. As the time stamp passed four fifteen, there it was—a puppy, trotting along the side access road leading to the back of the museum. Andie chased after it and it ran into the woods. Andie followed, out of camera range.

“Oldest lure there is,” said Izzy. “Who won’t go after a puppy?”

“It’s a Walker hound,” said Liam.

“Walker hound?” Izzy looked over at him. “You mean . . .” He looked over at Diane.

“They still have Slick, don’t they?” Diane said, more to herself than to any of them. She called Agent Mathews on his cell.

“Slick and Tammy are still in custody, aren’t they? Did they make bail? Escape?” she asked when Mathews answered.

“No, no, we still have them under lock and key. Why?” he asked—reasonably.

“A question came up about his dogs,” said Diane, hoping that lame answer would suffice.

Mathews laughed. “Those dogs. You know who he calls when he gets his telephone privileges? Not Tammy, not his lawyer. He spends his quality time talking to some guy named Hennessey who’s keeping his dogs.” He laughed again.

“How about Leland Conrad? Has he made bail yet?” she asked.

“He won’t be making bail. What’s this about?” he asked.

“Paranoia,” said Diane. “Thanks. I’m sorry to have disturbed you. We’ll have to have a drink over this later.” She hung up before he could ask more questions she would have to make up silly answers to.

“He’s still in jail,” said Diane.

“I’m sure lots of people in lots of places have Walker hounds,” said Izzy. They’re a popular hunting dog. I like a retriever, myself. Fun to play with.”

Diane looked over at a door she heard squeak. David and Jin came out of their glass room. David started to speak when he caught sight of the video screen where Diane had stopped it.

“A puppy?” said Jin. “A puppy? He could have gotten any of us.”

“Jin, I want you to go outside and search the woods for any evidence that might help us,” said Diane.

Jin nodded. “Sure, boss.” He rushed to get a crime scene kit and was almost out the door before Diane could give him instructions.

“Canvass all of the woods by the east side of the museum, especially the dirt road that used to access the nature trail before we blocked it.”

Jin nodded, bobbing his whole body like he had his engine idling. “I’ll keep in touch,” he said, and he left with his kit.

“What have you got?” Diane asked David.

“The latest message was from an e-café in Blairsville, about twenty miles from the last café,” said David. “We’re succeeding in taking the white noise out of the video. Want to listen?”

David didn’t wait for an answer; he called up the message and they listened to Andie read again.

“Hear the reverb?” he said.

“They’re in a cave?” said Diane.

“Possibly,” said David. “Maybe a large empty building. I’m still working on it.”

“Good,” said Diane. “This is progress.”

“How does it help us?” said Liam.

“Anything that narrows the search field helps,” said David. “As Diane said, this is progress. It hasn’t been that long since she got the first message.”

“I know. I just don’t like helplessly watching these videos,” said Liam. “I need more information to form the best plan, so I agree—anything that supplies new intel is good. It’s just that . . .”

“That what?” asked David, stroking his balding head. Diane could see he was under as much stress as the rest of them, trying to hold it in. He wanted to yell at Liam. She knew David. He wanted to tell Liam that he, David, was doing the best he could. But he simply stood there, waiting for an answer.

“What if you’re right and he got her to make all the messages—however many of them there are—and then he killed her? I can’t get that out of my head,” said Liam.

Diane understood. She had worried about the same thing, but for one important factor.

“He has to know that I’ll ask for proof she is still alive before I turn over the diary. I don’t think he will kill her before that.”

“Maybe,” said Liam. “Maybe he thinks he’s in total control and any hope you have at all to get Andie back is to just hand over the diary.”

“I think he is smart enough to keep her alive,” said David. “We have to believe that and believe that he wants the gold more than he wants to kill.”

Liam nodded.

The crime lab’s elevator started up, which meant someone was coming from the outside to visit the lab. Diane went to the elevator and waited. It opened to Frank and one of the lab guards who had escorted him up. Diane put her arms around him and hugged him as tight as she could after the elevator doors closed.

“What’s up?” he asked. “I think this is the first time you have ever summoned me.” He gave her a small, cautious smile.

Diane knew Frank would come. He was among the few truly dependable people she knew. He was also a good thinker, and that was what she needed, especially since her brain shut down every time she had a spasm of fear.

“Andie’s been kidnapped by the killer—the one who killed the Barres and Watsons in the night. He’s taken Andie, Frank,” she said.

“Jesus, no,” said Frank. “When? How?”

Diane showed him both the videos plus the security-camera videos. Afterward, the four of them filled him in on what they were doing so far.

“That’s quite a lot in a short amount of time,” he said. “What do you need me to do?”

“Think. Look at the video. Find anything we’re missing. I need your eye. We need as much information as we can get,” said Diane.

Frank nodded and sat down in front of the video to watch it again with Izzy and Liam. Diane was glad to give Liam something to do, even if it had to be watching Andie suffer over and over.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at their conference table to calm down. The refreshed feeling she felt from sleeping in was gone. She was exhausted and puke sick with fear. Her gaze rested on her sleeve again. In the light where she was, the small spread of glitter had a gold-orange glow.
Geez, it’s everywhere,
she thought.

Then why was it on only one sleeve?

For some reason, she thought about Izzy touching her shoulder not thirty minutes ago. Diane had on the same sweater yesterday, and she remembered Maud grabbing her arm, and the oddly sparkly makeup she had on for a very straitlaced woman. And she thought about
Vitruvian Man
.

“Maud and Earl? From the church? I didn’t see that coming,” said Izzy.

They all stared at Diane. Frank and Izzy because they had met Maud and Earl. David and Liam because the others were.

“I’m thinking secondary transfer,” said Diane. “We need to find out who Maud came in contact with yesterday. She won’t respond to me. Any of you charming enough to get the information?”

“What is it you’re saying?” said Liam. “That glitter is from Andie’s shirt?”

“The
Vitruvian Man
T-shirts have a pale burnt-orange glitter that is meant to mimic the color of aged parchment—like Leonardo da Vinci’s journal,” said Diane. “And as everyone in the museum knows by now, the glitter we got for the T-shirts transfers quite readily. Maud grasped my arm when she came by—”

“Why did she come by?” asked Izzy.

“I’m not completely sure. They wanted me to confess to lying about Leland Conrad—that he hadn’t put me in a jail cell with a bunch of drunks—because he was too good a man to do something like that.”

Diane heard Liam snort.

“I think they were feeling a little guilty,” she continued, “because they had told Conrad I was at their church, and they wanted me to alleviate that guilt for them. Anyway, I noticed that her makeup had a golden reddish sheen to it, as did her blouse. And frankly, she isn’t the type to be wearing that look. Andie’s abductor will have burnt-orange glitter all over him. And it will transfer readily. If it isn’t Maud, she came in contact with whoever it is.”

“There’s a lot of glitter around,” said Liam. “I mean a
lot
. Young people wear it on their clothing, on their faces, their purses. You’re likely to find any number of people with glitter on them or their clothing.”

“We can tell if it’s our glitter,” said David.

“I take it all glitter is not created equal,” said Liam.

“Indeed not,” said David. “Glitter is actually small to almost microscopic pieces of either plastic with an aluminum layer, or just plain old aluminum foil. It varies in size, shape, thickness, color, specific gravity, chemistry—to name a few of its characteristics. Every company has its own way of making it, uses its own shapes—like carpet manufacturers do—and each company’s cutting machines have their own specific tool markings left on the tiny pieces. Different companies have their own distinctive color varieties. And different companies make glitter for different products—like clothing, makeup, crafts, confetti, and on and on. I can tell you right away if this is our glitter. And the best part—you can never get rid of all of it. There are always little bits of it stuck somewhere.”

David took a piece of tape and pressed it against the glitter on the arm of Diane’s sweater. He lifted the tape and put the sample under the microscope.

“He has a database of glitter, doesn’t he?” said Izzy.

“Of course,” said Diane. “Have you ever known David without a database? He’s even working on a database of acoustic sound qualities in different environments—caves, houses, warehouses, outdoors in summer and winter, types of vehicles, and whatever else he has thought of recently.”

Izzy shook his head. Liam smiled. The first time all day she’d seen him smile.

“It’s ours. I can tell you that,” said David, looking up from the microscope. “I can put it under the mass spec and have a detailed description, but it’s ours.”

“So,” said Liam, “we are making progress. We have a lead.”

“We do,” said David.

“Don’t Maud and Earl have a no-account son who’s been in jail?” said Izzy. “Isn’t that what the Watson daughters said? I believe Keith is his name.” Izzy rubbed his hands together. “Progress.”

“Do you think the no-account son could be the grandson of Cora Nell Dickson?” asked Diane. “Liam, what did you find out last night about Cora?”

“Nothing. She never applied for a Social Security number. It’s automatic now when children are born, but back then you applied for it when you went to work. Not everyone worked. Not everyone applied for a card. Her income is her husband’s retirement income. I might as well not have gone, and if I’d stayed here, Andie wouldn’t have gotten in harm’s way,” he said.

“Whoever it was, was stalking Andie,” said Diane. “You couldn’t be with her all the time.”

“How are we going to approach this?” said Diane. “Maud and Earl won’t talk with me. If their son is involved, I don’t want to alert them. I thought one of you could do it, and complain about me—get them talking.”

“I can do that,” said Izzy.

Diane smiled. “Good,” she said.

“No, really. I have an idea. Evie and I spoke with them at the church and we got along okay. I think I can approach it right.” Izzy headed for one of the private workstations.

Frank turned back to the video made by Andie’s kidnapper. Diane saw him go to the beginning and watch it again. He’d done it several times. Stopping, looking, examining, writing down. At one point he measured something on the screen. She watched him for several moments. He could focus so well and with such intensity. She wanted to ask him what he was doing, but she didn’t want to break his focus. She knew he would know every pixel, or whatever unit the image was in, in the video of Andie.