Have You Seen Her? (28 page)

Nobody asked how or by whom. It didn’t really matter at this stage.

“And without the semen evidence you had no case,” Liz finished.

“We couldn’t tie him to Laura Resnick, the first victim, so the whole case crumbled like a house of cards. Parker walks away, free as a bird. His whole record is sealed. But the community knew what he’d done. His parents had tried to keep his name out of the press, but it just wasn’t going to happen. Crowds gathered, some threw bottles, most just picketed. Parker Senior’s import business suffered. Nobody wanted to do business with the father of a monster like William. Senior had to declare Chapter Eleven, sell the house. They moved away, then just disappeared.”

“It’s hard for a whole family to just disappear,” Liz observed.

“Mrs. Parker’s father is a multimillionaire.”

They all nodded, well aware of the power of cold, hard American cash.

“Lutz is the maiden name of Mrs. Parker’s paternal grandmother.” Davies looked frustrated. “I thought for a while they might have left the country. Gone to Switzerland or France.”

“Not if they wanted their son to play football,” Steven returned and Davies nodded.

“As I recall, that’s what Parker Senior was maddest about,” Davies mused. “He didn’t care that four girls were dead. That every bit of evidence pointed to his son. He cared that William wouldn’t get to play high school football and get picked up by the college scouts.”

Steven sighed. “So his parents take him out of Seattle, then pop up as new residents to Raleigh-Durham, erase a year from Rudy’s age, and have
‘fourteen’
-year-old Rudy start high school all over again with a whole new set of girls to choose from,” he said, punctuating the word in the air.

Lieutenant Chambers huffed his disapproval. “Like I said, kid in a freakin’ candy store.”

Liz rubbed her forehead. “You all do realize that none of this is proof Rudy had anything to do with Lorraine or Samantha.”

“Not yet,” Steven said grimly. “But now we have some place to look.”

At that moment a uniformed officer came in with a note. “Agent Thatcher? Your admin assistant has been trying to get in touch with you all morning. She says it’s urgent.”

Steven looked at his cell phone, frowning. It was on, but the signal bars were down to one.

“You won’t get any reception this deep in the building,” Chambers said. “Pain in the ass.”

Steven pointed to a phone in the corner of the room. “But that one works.”

“If I remembered to pay the bill,” Chambers said sarcastically.

Steven placed the call, listened to Nancy, then turned to the group with a sense of grim despair. “They found Samantha.”

“In better shape than Lorraine?” Liz asked.

No one even assumed she’d still be alive. Correctly so. “Marginally.” Steven rubbed the back of his neck. “But that was the good news.”

No one said anything, every one of the faces saying they knew what was coming.

“The bad news is that now we have a victim number three.”

“Oh, God,” Liz murmured.

“Who?” Chambers demanded.

Davies looked grim.

“Her name is Alev Rahrooh,” Steven said. “Sixteen. Cheerleader. Went to yet a different high school. No sign of forced entry. Davies, I’ll want to confirm your story with your LT in Seattle. Procedure of course.”

Davies raised a brow. “Of course.”

“Then we’ll need to choose which site to see first. Door number two or door number three.”

N
INETEEN

Thursday, October 6, 4:15
P.M.

C
ASEY STOWED HER OVERNIGHT BAG IN THE
XK 150’s tiny trunk and slammed it closed. “I feel nervous about leaving you right now. I can cancel my trip if you want me to stay.”

Jenna dangled her car keys from one finger. “I’ll be fine. Tell her, Lucas. I’ll be fine.”

“She’ll be fine,” Lucas echoed obediently and Casey stuck her tongue out at him.

“Polly Parrott will say what you tell him. I say I have a bad feeling about this.”

Jenna shrugged. “The way I see it, if you’ve got the car, they can’t hurt it.”

Casey pointed to the hood. “Your Jaguar thingy is missing.”

The hood ornament. Adam had looked for a long time to find just the right one to complete his restoration. “It was gone yesterday morning before I left for school. I called Officer Pullman to report that, too.” That the school hellions had invaded her home parking lot still left her blood cold. “Casey, go on now or you’ll get stuck in rush-hour traffic.”

They frowned at each other until Casey huffed a disgusted sigh. “Oh, all right.” They traded keys and Casey got in the car, still looking worried. “Call me if you need me.”

As she drove away, Lucas asked quietly, “How are you, Jen? I know yesterday was a shock.”

“I’m fine. Really,” she insisted when he looked unconvinced. “Although I am wondering why they took a day off. No problems in my classroom all day today.”

“Maybe the surveillance camera deterred them.”

Jenna’s eyes widened. “You put up a camera? Where? When?”

“In the far corner of your classroom where you’ll catch anyone coming in the door. Yesterday, after we’d gotten rid of your piñata. I’ve ordered a few outside models we can mount to the light posts here in the parking lot.” He looked annoyed. “And you’re welcome.”

Jenna rolled her eyes. “Thank you, but you might have told me. Now I have to worry if anyone saw me picking my nose or straightening my nylons.”

Lucas’s teeth flashed in a grin. “I could sell either of those on video and get rich quick.”

She smacked him in the arm. “Take that back or I’ll tell Marianne.”

“She’ll just be mad she didn’t get a starring role. You know what an exhibitionist Marianne is.”

“No, I don’t,” Jenna answered primly, then met his eyes, sobering. “Thanks, Lucas.”

He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Do not go into the school by yourself. Wait for me and I’ll walk you to your classroom.”

She swallowed hard. “Do you think they’ll stop?”

His face darkened. “Is Rudy playing this weekend?”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“Then they won’t stop. That’s why I put the camera in. I want hard evidence we can use to expel those juvenile delinquents and I’m tired of waiting for Blackman to be a man and do it himself.”

“Thanks, Lucas. Go home and make dirty videos with your wife. This is Thursday, so I get to kick the crap out of whoever’s unlucky enough to be my sparring partner tonight.”

“I hope whoever is unlucky enough to be your sparring partner is wearing a heavy-duty cup.”

“Stainless steel even.” And she laughed out loud at his predictable wince. “Good night, Lucas.”

Thursday, October 6, 6:25
P.M.

Steven sat alone in the conference room, staring at the board. A map held pushpins indicating the clearings where Lorraine’s and Samantha’s bodies had been found, the houses where the three missing girls had lived, the schools they’d attended. The churches in which they’d worshiped.

Mike’s parish held only two pins. Steven had been relieved to push a third pin marking the location of a small house where the Rahroohs gathered to worship with other Hindu friends. Even if Davies hadn’t surfaced with his picture of Parker, Sandra’s theory would have been put to rest. Mike hadn’t known Alev Rahrooh.
Thank God,
he thought, tacking three new photos to the board.

Samantha Eggleston’s body. Stabbed fifteen times, blade placement making a pattern very similar to the new tattoo on her bald scalp. Which Kent predicted they would find.

Alev Rahrooh, bright and smiling in her cheerleader picture. A copy of her picture, actually. Her parents hadn’t wanted to give the original to Steven. It was the only recent photo they had, that they’d been able to afford. They’d given it only after Steven promised he would personally ensure its safekeeping. The original lay in an envelope on his desk. He’d return it to the Rahroohs tonight.

And finally, the third photo, Rudy Lutz, a.k.a. William Rudolf Parker.

“His hair color is similar to the sample from the Clary clearing,” Sandra said from the doorway.

“Not good enough according to Liz,” Steven said, turning to look at her. “We’ll need a hell of a lot more to be able to support bringing him in, especially since we’re not even supposed to know his sealed record exists. What’s new, Sandra?”

Sandra didn’t come any closer than the doorway. “Not a lot. Where’s your new friend?”

“Davies? He’s in a visitor’s cubicle, making some calls back to the West Coast.” He paused and asked again, “So what’s new, Sandra?”

She looked up at the ceiling. “I checked into the . . . individual we discussed yesterday.”

“And?”

She met his eyes. “And you were right. The night Lorraine went missing he was with twenty-five other priests at a seminar on church finances.”

“And the night Samantha Eggleston was taken?”

“Giving last sacraments at Wake Medical Center. I’m sorry, Steven. I needed to check.”

“I guess I should be grateful for death and taxes,” Mike said dryly from behind Sandra and she jumped, turning red up to her hairline. Awkwardly, she turned to face him.

“Father Leone. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you knew I was asking about you.”

Mike gestured to the table. “These things tend to get out. After you?”

Sandra shook her head. “I was just leaving. I’ve got to get home to my kids.” Still dismayed, Sandra looked from Steven to Mike. “Father, I tried to be discreet. I hope I haven’t made any trouble for you.”

Mike sat down. “Nothing I can’t manage,” he said, but his eyes didn’t back up his words.

Sandra nodded stiffly and left, closing the door behind her. “I was in the neighborhood,” Mike said softly when she’d gone. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

“No. Of course not.” Steven took the tack out of Rudy’s picture and slipped the photo into a folder. Mike was innocent, but Steven still needed to run a clean investigation, which meant keeping all leads confined to his team. “What brings you to my neighborhood?”

Mike regarded him soberly. “The Egglestons asked me to bless Samantha’s body but the ME said he wasn’t finished with her yet. We’ll have to wait until her body’s released.”

Weariness hit Steven square in the chest and with it a sadness that was a palpable ache. “I don’t want to imagine what her parents are going through,” he said, joining Mike at the table. “But I am.”

“You feel it for all of them, don’t you? The sadness I see in your eyes right now.”

Steven pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d had a headache all day. “I do. I don’t want to. I try not to. But every name in every folder that comes across my desk is a person that belongs to somebody’s family. It never seems to end. So, how bad is it, Mike?”

Mike looked away. “How bad is what?”

Steven leaned forward to catch Mike’s eye. “How badly did we tarnish your reputation?”

“I’ll live. I have a few people calling me, asking if it’s true. More are calling the bishop’s office to ask if it’s true. I’m not blaming you, Steven.”

Steven sighed. “Good. But you know I would have done it anyway.”

“I know. It’s what makes you a good cop.”

“That’s special agent to you,” Steven said, his heart momentarily lightened by the praise.

“That’s why I came by,” Mike said quietly. “To tell you I would have been angry if you hadn’t checked me out. I want the man who killed those girls, Steven. I want him to . . .” Mike’s voice wobbled and he stopped. Cleared his throat. “I want him to suffer for what he did.” He closed his eyes. “I never saw Lorraine’s body, but I glimpsed Samantha’s on the ME’s table. I’ll never forget that sight as long as I live.” He opened his eyes and in them Steven saw anguish. “I have never felt such hate,” he whispered. “I want whoever did this to suffer like Sammie suffered. Worse.”

Like Alev’s suffering right now,
Steven thought, then pushed the thought from his mind. “I don’t know that there is much worse, Mike.”

“How do you stand it?”

“Like you stand all the suffering you see. One day at a time. Sometimes an hour at a time.”

Mike stood up, tugged on his robes. “Well, I need to go. It’s Thursday. All-you-can-eat night at Sal’s Pizza. You want to join me for a slice or two or twelve? The beer’s cold.”

Steven smiled wearily up at his best friend, grateful to have him. “Will you believe me if I say I’d like nothing better? But I’d like to get home tonight. I haven’t seen Nicky since Monday night and I still haven’t squared things with Brad.”

Something flickered in Mike’s eyes at the mention of Brad.

“What?” Steven asked, hearing alarm bells ring in his head. “What do you know?”

Mike shook his head. “Go talk to your son, Steven. He needs you.”

Steven watched as he left the room, then turned back to the board to look at the photo of Samantha Eggleston’s mutilated body. She’d needed him, too. Just like Alev needed him now. Pretty soon he’d have to install one of those number machines like they had at the deli counter.

He had to make it stop. He had to catch whoever was doing this. God willing it was Rudy Lutz and they just had to make sure they knew where he went, what he did. That would be the only way they’d save Alev. And the countless other girls Rudy Lutz had yet to victimize.

And there were his own kids, Steven thought.
I have to fix my kids.
Hell, he had to
see
his kids.

And there was the small matter of Jenna Marshall. At this point, he just hoped she’d still speak to him when he finally got time to apologize. Whenever that would be.

Thursday, October 6, 7:30
P.M.

“You’re not concentrating tonight, Jen.”

Jenna picked herself off the floor and pulled at her
gi
. She looked up at her
sensei
who stared down at her disapprovingly. “I’m sorry, Mark. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Well, leave it outside. Your concerns have no place on the sparring mat. You’ll get hurt.”

Jenna rubbed her sore hip. “I already am. You caught me good.”

“I caught you napping,” Mark snapped. “You’re supposed to be demonstrating technique, not volunteering to be the first-aid dummy.”

Jenna looked at the rest of the students lined up behind them. Mark was right. She owed more to the students than she’d been giving tonight. Classroom vandalism, juvenile delinquents, Brad and Steven Thatcher aside. “Point taken.” She held herself rigid. “I’m ready now.”

Mark shook his head, his frown softening from frustrated to worried. “No, you’re not. We’ll try again later.” He motioned to a boy standing at the end of the line. “Bill, you’re up. Take five, Jen.”

Chastised, Jenna walked to the water cooler and aimlessly she watched cars drive by until one pulled into their parking lot. Her stomach clenched. Lucas’s car.
No.
Whatever it was... Just,
no
.

Dread made her immobile. She could only stand and watch as Lucas made his way across the parking lot, his normally bronzed face whiter than her
gi
. He pushed the door open and stood silently before her, his throat working frantically.

“Casey,” he whispered and Jenna felt the room tilt. Blindly she lowered herself into a chair.

Lucas cleared his throat. “She lost control of your car and went off an embankment.”

Bile rose in her throat, choking her. “She’s . . . alive?” He nodded. “Barely. Come with me.”

Thursday, October 6, 8:45
P.M.

Steven and Davies’s follow-up visit to the Rahroohs yielded nothing new. Their telephone records had shown a phone call at nine
P.M.
the night before. Mr. Rahrooh remembered taking the call. Tears ran down his face as he told them he almost had told the boy, no, it was too late to talk to his daughter. Past house rules for receiving phone calls. But she’d looked so eager. “So beautiful,” he’d sobbed, completely breaking down, and Steven and Davies took their leave.

Steven buckled himself into the Volvo. “I’m done for the day,” he said, completely drained.

Davies set his eyes on a point outside the car window. “Me, too. I’ll need a ride back to the motel. You guys still have my rental car in the impound lot.”

Steven chuckled. One very tired chuckle. “Sorry about that.”

“Well, at least I can say I know how it feels to be on the other side of the mirror. I guess I’m glad the Parkers’ neighbor took her civic duty so responsibly. I just wish she’d done it on Parker.”