Ever Present Danger (37 page)

The phone rang and Kelsey jumped, her hand over her heart.

Brandon went into the kitchen and grabbed the receiver on the wall phone. “Hello.”

“Brandon, it’s Carolyn. I’m sorry to call you at this hour, but Ivy’s missing, and we need you and Kelsey to pray.”

“That’s so strange because Kelsey’s already been up for a while, feeling led to pray for Ivy. What’s going on?”

“Ivy and Bill went out around eight o’clock, and she said she wouldn’t be late. It’s totally out of character for her not to call. And to make matters worse, Sheriff Carter and the FBI have been waiting all night to talk to her—something about the Joe Hadley case they want to ask her about.” Carolyn’s voice was shaking. “Elam is out looking for her, and she’s not at Bill’s. I’m really worried.”

“We’re coming over there,” Brandon said. “You don’t need to be alone right now.”

Ivy sat in the ugly gold chair, shivering from the cold and feeling too vulnerable to allow herself to fall asleep. She wondered how Bill would treat her in the morning. Would he be angry she had insisted on sleeping in the broken-down chair when he had offered her the bed all to herself? He hadn’t acted as though he intended to take advantage of her, but she was determined to stay out of the bed. Period.

She heard footsteps on the creaky floor and opened her eyes. Bill’s dark form stood over her.

“You still okay out here?” he said softly.

“I was asleep. Why’d you wake me up?”

Bill draped another blanket over her. “Sorry. It seems cold in here to me, and I didn’t think one blanket was enough to keep you warm.”

How can you be so sweet and be a monster at the same time?
“Thanks.”
Now go away!

“I just don’t feel right takin’ the bed with you sleepin’ in the chair.”

“But I’m fine. Really.”

Bill reached in the bathroom and turned on the light, then left the door cracked and flopped on the couch. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

Ivy closed her eyes for half a minute and then opened them. “I can’t sleep with you staring at me.”

“I love to watch you sleep. I do it all the time in my mind—only you’re lyin’ next to me.”

Ivy shuddered at the creepy, almost hypnotic look in his eyes. She cringed to think what else Bill had imagined in his mind and blinked away the images that popped into her own. How much longer would she be able to evade whatever sick fantasies he hoped to fulfill?

All at once, a familiar presence permeated the room and seemed almost as if it were slithering across the floor toward her—laughing, taunting, threatening. Her tears seemed frozen and unable to escape, and her pulse raced wildly as the evil seemed to wrap itself around her throat. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t catch her breath. Wanted to fight but her wrists were tied.

Ivy clamped her eyes shut, the presence so sinister, so terrifying, that she wondered if hell could be any worse.

She wanted to fall on her knees, but couldn’t move, so she pictured herself kneeling, her hands lifted in total surrender, knowing there was only one way out of this pit of despair—and she should have taken it a long time ago.

Ivy pictured herself clinging to the foot of the cross and whispered the name of Jesus over and over. The evil presence vanished.

Sheriff Flint Carter bounded up the front steps of the Griffiths’ home, Lieutenant Bobby Knolls, Investigator Buck Lowry, and two of Nick Sanchez’s agents behind him, and rang the doorbell. Sasha started barking, and he heard footsteps coming closer.

Elam Griffith opened door and held it open. “Thanks for coming. I started to look for Ivy myself, but realized I don’t have a clue where she could be. She’s not at Bill’s.”

Flint stepped inside just as the grandfather clock struck four and noticed a young couple sitting in the living room with Carolyn. He introduced his entourage to Carolyn and Elam, and was introduced to the couple, Brandon and Kelsey Jones.

“Okay,” Flint said, “let’s cut to the chase. I’ve got my men searching in town and along the main highways. We’d like to look through Ivy’s room, if that’s okay. You want her attorney present?”

“That’s not necessary,” Elam said. “Do whatever you need to. Please, just find her.”

Flint followed Carolyn up the stairs and into Ivy’s bedroom. He moved his eyes slowly around the room.

“Carolyn, I’d like to search through her dresser drawers, under the mattress, in the closet—everything. Do we have your permission for that?”

Carolyn nodded, her lips pressed together tightly, her eyes brimming with tears. “I’ll wait downstairs.”

“Actually, it might be helpful if you’d stay.” Flint eyed the photographs on the bed. “What are these?”

“Class reunion pictures that Evelyn Barton didn’t want and gave to Ivy. Your department has copies.”

“Did Ivy comment on them?” Flint said, noting the magnifying glass next to the photos.

Carolyn put her fingers to her temples. “Uh, she liked them.
Said there were a few really good ones. Oh, there was one of her and Bill dancing that Evelyn thought she might like. It was very nice.”

“Could you point it out for me?”

Carolyn gathered up the pictures and thumbed through them. “Hmm…it’s not here. Maybe I missed it.” She thumbed through the stack a second time, then shook her head. “I don’t see it.”

“Okay.” Flint folded his arms across his chest. “Any idea why Ivy would look at the photos with a magnifying glass? Is that usual for her?”

Carolyn shrugged. “I don’t know, but she didn’t do that when we looked at them earlier.”

Flint, Bobby, Buck, and Nick’s agents searched every inch of Ivy’s room, and then went back downstairs.

“We didn’t find anything helpful,” Flint said. “No diary. Notes. Phone numbers. Ticket stubs. Receipts. Nothing.” He turned to Kelsey. “Carolyn mentioned you had Ivy over for coffee yesterday. Did she say anything strange—anything out of the ordinary?”

Kelsey linked her arm in Brandon’s. “I don’t know Ivy very well, so I’m not sure what’s out of the ordinary for her. We talked a lot about spiritual things. She seemed burdened by guilt for hurting her parents and Montana when she was involved in drugs. I did think it was odd that she asked me if a person hadn’t told the truth about something, would he have to go tell the truth if he wanted God to forgive him.”

Flint shot Bobby a knowing look. “Ivy didn’t indicate whether
she
was that person who hadn’t told the truth?”

“No, and I didn’t ask. But she seemed really bothered by it.”

“Okay,” Flint said. “I want to take a look at the missing photograph and would like Carolyn and Elam to come down to the station and pick it out of our copies. It may not mean anything, but it’s worth checking out.”

“Okay,” Carolyn said. “But one of us needs to stay with Montana.”

“Kelsey and I will stay,” Brandon said. “You go. We’ll call if Ivy comes home.”

Ivy sat in the chair, her hands still bound, and Bill snoring on the couch. But the crushing weight in her heart was gone and so was the fear.

She felt as though she were wrapped in a blanket of peace and tried to comprehend the magnitude of what had just happened.

She thought for a moment about how difficult it was going to be for her parents and Montana to accept the truth about Joe Hadley’s death—and how she had been a party to the cover-up. As hard as it would be to admit her guilt, she knew she could go through with it now that God had forgiven her. No punishment she would face could compare with the horrible feeling of being separated from Him—something she never again wanted to experience.

Bill exhaled and smacked his lips, then turned on his side and continued to snore.

Ivy closed her eyes and pictured Jesus sitting on the arm of the chair. She was determined to stay focused on that image, no matter what Bill decided to do with her.

Flint Carter, Nick Sanchez, and Bobby Knolls gathered around the computer monitor where thumbnail prints of each reunion photo were displayed, including duplicates of the pictures they had found on Ivy’s bed.

“Okay,” Nick said to the special agent who sat at the computer, “bring up the picture Mrs. Griffith pointed out of her daughter and Ziwicki dancing and blow it up. All right. Now let’s look through the photos in time sequence and enlarge each one where Ziwicki’s pictured, then crop him out of it. I want to see every detail—if he has so much as a gravy stain on his shirt.”

Flint watched as the special agent at the computer cropped Bill Ziwicki’s image out of several photographs and enlarged them. “Some of these aren’t very clear.”

“Yeah, but some are,” Nick said. “Keep going. There’s nothing in these photos that proves Ziwicki was in the Aspen Room at the time of the murder.”

Flint took a sip of coffee. “Ivy said she saw him at the bar at 1:20 when Barton, Morrison, and Richards left.”

“Could be she’s coverin’ for him,” Bobby said. “Maybe that’s why she got rid of the photo.”

Flint shook his head. “We don’t know that she got rid of it. Maybe she wanted to show it to Bill when they went out. It’s a nice picture of the two of them.”

“If Griffith isn’t with Ziwicki at his house, where are they?” Nick said. “There’s no reason to go to a motel. And they’re a little old to be fooling around in the back of the van. Something’s not right.”

“Stop!” Bobby said. “Go back to the first photo taken of Ziwicki, the one where the clock shows 7:40. Yeah, that’s it. Look at the shoes. Now go to the one of him dancin’ with Griffith.”

“Well, ain’t that sweet?” A slow grin spread across Nick’s face. “Ziwicki changed his shoes—and probably everything else. Good spot, Lieutenant. Add a silencer and a pair of gloves to the scenario, and we might just have our shooter. He and Griffith were probably in on it together and fled when they knew we were on to them. Let’s get an APB out on his van.”

“I’m not convinced Ivy knew anything about this,” Flint said.

“Well, you keep defending her.” Nick stood to his feet. “But I’m going to nail her and Ziwicki. My guess is they conspired together in the shooting.”

“You might be right about Ziwicki being the shooter, Nick. But what would be Ivy’s motive? I just don’t see that girl sending those three guys up to the room so Ziwicki could blow them away.”

“She sure didn’t have any problem being a party to Joe Hadley’s murder.”

“Come on,” Flint said. “We don’t know what happened to Joe Hadley. It’s speculation at this point.”

Nick smiled. “Not for long. Let’s get a warrant to search Ziwicki’s place.”

SHERIFF FLINT CARTER, search warrant in hand, entered the home of Bill Ziwicki just before dawn, followed by a whole team of deputies and FBI agents, including Bobby Knolls and Nick Sanchez.

“This is the neatest bachelor pad I’ve ever seen,” Nick said. “My wife should be this organized.”

Flint ran his finger along the top of a picture frame and found no dust. “Don’t forget, Ziwicki’s in the cleaning business.”

Nick went in the kitchen and started opening cabinets and drawers. “You ought to see the way he’s lined up the glasses according to size, every knife and fork neatly stacked. Even the pot holders are arranged by color. This guy has way too much time on his hands.”

“Hey, sheriff!” Bobby appeared in a doorway. “You’ll wanna see this!”

Flint followed Bobby into what appeared to be a bedroom. “What the…?”

One wall was covered with a symmetrical arrangement of photographs—all of Ivy Griffith—some from high school, others from the class reunion, a few from old newspapers. Flint recognized the poster-sized photo in the center as Ivy’s homecoming queen portrait. A vase of roses and two candles had been set on a small table in front of the photo wall.

Flint studied the collage of photos with his arms folded, his
mind racing with the implications. “The profile indicated our perp lives in his own fantasy world where he can turn off the emotional pain, but this is really sick.”

Bobby blew a pink bubble and popped it. “Yep.”

“The profile also indicated that the perp might’ve felt rejected by a parent early in life,” Nick added. “Ziwicki’s mother died when he was ten.”

“Is that the same thing?” Flint turned to Nick.

“Could seem that way to a kid.”

“You think he’ll hurt Ivy?”

“Well, we know he’s a killer.” Nick arched one eyebrow. “But for all we know, Griffith’s in this thing with him and left willingly. I don’t think he’d hurt her unless he thinks he’s going to lose her or thinks he’s going to get caught.”