Have You Seen Her? (45 page)

Jenna stared up at him, feeling her body grow numb. “What...?”

He sat down next to her, cross-legged, and carefully capped the syringe. “Ketamine has some pretty cool effects, Miss Marshall,” he explained, now sounding incredibly like a teenager. “When you’re going under you’re suggestible and when you come out, you’ll dream.” He smiled. Satisfied.

“You’ll dream whatever I tell you to dream. Because I’m in charge here.”

Jenna struggled, but only in her mind now. Her body was frozen. “Sweet dreams, Miss Marshall,” she heard him say. Then nothing.

Friday, October 14, 7:00
P.M.

The darkroom was in the small closet of an unused bedroom and what Steven found there chilled his blood. Pictures, hundreds of pictures in stacks, hanging from drying lines. He plucked one off the line and his heart plunged.

It was he and Jenna. Together. Shots above the waist, but they showed . . . He swallowed, remembering the night very well. He’d practically torn the sweater from her body in their passion and she’d wrapped herself around him, her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, pressing her warm breasts into his chest. But he didn’t have to rely on his memory. Josh Lutz had captured everything in full color.

“Steven.” Sandra was behind him and she carefully took the pictures and placed them in a folder. “We’ll take them as evidence, but I’ll make sure no one sees them,” she said softly.

Straightening, Steven rested his hands on his hips and blew out a sigh. “Thanks. I’m kind of glad he’s not here right now,” he said grimly. “I might kill him myself.”

Sandra squeezed his arm and turned away to continue the search.

Steven picked up another stack and felt adrenaline kick even as his stomach turned over. “Sandra, look. He’s taken pictures of the girls’ bodies, but inside somewhere. It looks like a barn.” He flipped through the photos quickly. “Here’s one showing a table saw.”

“The sawdust in Kelly’s bedroom.”

“Yeah. And circular saw patterns the ME found on Alev’s arms and legs.” Steven flipped through some more photos. “Here’s one with a window in view. The sun’s coming up.”

“Or going down,” Sandra said, her own voice tight with tension. “It faces a road. You can see a little bit of it through the trees here. Let me get this to the lab. Maybe they can get more detail.”

“The negatives will be here somewhere,” Steven said, putting aside a stack of pictures, only to have the stack slide sideways. “Dammit,” he gritted, moving to straighten the stack. Then a single print jumped out at him and he froze. “Oh, God. Sandra,” he whispered and heard her indrawn breath as she looked over his shoulder. “It’s Nicky. With Jenna in the park.”

“I’ll get a cruiser over to your house right away.”

Steven put the picture in Sandra’s steady hands, wishing his were. “Thanks.”

“Nicky’s fine. He’s with your aunt and we would have heard if there was any trouble.”

He nodded. Tried to breathe. “You’re right. I know you’re right.” Still he remembered how it felt to know his baby had been stolen. It couldn’t happen again. He wouldn’t let it.

“Go get some water, Steven,” Sandra commanded. “You can’t keel over on us now.”

Steven forced a grin. “Yes, ma’am.” Then his cell phone jangled and Sandra stopped, two steps from the door. Her face went white and he could see she was thinking the same thing he was. His hands shaking, he answered, “Thatcher.”

“Steven.” It was Nancy and her voice was frantic. Steven sagged against a wall of the darkroom. “Not Nicky. Please.”

“No, no, not Nicky. It’s Jenna. She’s gone.”

T
HIRTY
-
FOUR

Friday, October 14, 7:45
P.M.

WOLVES.
C
OMING
. S
HE TRIED TO RUN
, but they chased her, drooling, fangs shimmering. She stumbled and fell and they were on her.
No, no.
The screams tore from her throat as sharp teeth sank into the back of her thigh. She pulled herself into a ball, but it did nothing to save her. Teeth ripped, tore. The pain, white-hot and excruciating . . . She tried to crawl away, but they descended . . .

“No!” she screamed, and woke up, huddled in a ball, drenched in sweat, her eyes clenched shut.

Clap, clap, clap.
Applause.

“Not bad. Not bad at all. Sammie was better, but she was also in the drama club.”

Jenna dragged in a breath. It was a dream. A dream. That was all. There was no pain, no ripped flesh. She opened her eyes. Only Josh Lutz standing over her with ropes in his hands.

He knelt and briskly tied her hands. “Next time I’ll just have to think of something better. What are you afraid of, Miss Marshall? Samantha was afraid of snakes. Slithering silently. Coming closer. With fangs.
Sssss
.” His hands dropped to her legs. “So what are you afraid of?”

“Not you,” Jenna spat, trying to wrench away, and Josh just chuckled and grabbed her ankles.

“Feisty. I’d hoped you would be.” He pulled another rope from his back pocket and Jenna made her mind function. Made herself remember all the self-defense she’d learned, how to hold her feet to create the most give in the knot Josh was about to tie. Prayed she could pull it off.

He tied her ankles and she pretended to struggle, but in the end her ankles were placed exactly as she’d planned. She realized she could now see more of the barn. She could see the far wall, the table that held the plastic case he’d brought to her apartment that night. Her heart contracted. She could see the table that held Kelly’s nude body. She strained to see if Kelly still breathed.

“She’s still alive,” Josh said. “But not for much longer.” Kelly was alive.
So am I.
But Kelly was nude and Jenna was still clothed. Why? Why had he not taken her clothes? Kelly was bald, her head shaved clean, her hair mounted on the wall.
But he hasn’t done that to me yet. Why?

Jenna kept her questions to herself in the unlikely event asking would trigger Josh to action. It was far more likely he had his own reasons for not proceeding.
Miss Marshall,
she thought. In school, he called her
Dr. Marshall,
but here, where he was in charge, it was
Miss
. A deliberate attempt to undermine her authority, learned from his dear old dad. But he didn’t use her first name, so she still wasn’t at the level of the other girls in his mind. She hoped to use it against him. She needed to search the walls she could see, looking for a way to escape. Because she had to.
She would.

Friday, October 14, 9:00
P.M.

“What the hell is this all about?” Victor Lutz barreled into Interview One, where a tight-lipped Nora Lutz and her lawyer sat at the table with Liz. Lutz recognized Davies who sat in the corner, arms crossed, face hard, and Lutz’s expression blanched as he and Davies played the staring game.

Finally Lutz turned and Steven was gratified to see a flicker of fear in the man’s eyes. “We settled this,” Lutz said, considerably shaken. “My son had nothing to do with the vandalism.”

Steven wanted to strangle the man here and now. Instead, he calmed his knocking heart and smoothed his voice. “We’re not talking about vandalism. We’re talking about murder.”

“The English teacher is fine,” Lutz insisted. “She was released from the hospital this morning.”

Steven raised a brow. “Worried about Miss Ryan, were you? I suppose you had cause to be considering it was your prompting that incited your son’s friends to cut Dr. Marshall’s brakes.” Steven held up his hand when Lutz would have denied it. “Save it for your indictment, Mr. Lutz. Detective Pullman has two young men who’ve sworn out affidavits implicating you. I’m not talking about attempted murder. I’m talking about serial murder. Four young girls four years ago in Seattle. Four young girls in the last month here in Raleigh. Ring a bell?”

Lutz’s gaze flicked to Davies sitting in the corner, then back at Steven. “He is insane, so determined to ruin my family that he comes all this way to spread his lies. Rudy was exonerated.”

Steven pursed his lips. “I’m not talking about Rudy. I’m talking about Josh.”

Lutz’s face blanked. Then he laughed. “Josh? You’re crazier than he is. Josh is a half-wit.”

“Shut up, Victor,” Nora snapped and jerked her arm away when her lawyer tried to silence her. “For years you’ve told my son he’s stupid and unworthy. And for years you’ve been wrong.”

Lutz frowned at her outburst. “Nora, you know as well as I do that Josh is retarded.”

“I don’t think so, Mr. Lutz, and I’m not prepared to give you all the wherefores and therefores right now,” Steven said, abandoning his patient routine. “Your son’s kidnapped four girls, killed three of them, and three hours ago Dr. Marshall was abducted.” He drew on the scattered remnants of his calm, doing his best not to think about Jenna at the hands of Lutz’s sick bastard son. Tried not to think about the frantic cell phone call Allison made when she discovered her unconscious father at the cemetery. Steven slipped his hand in his pocket and fingered the silver Celtic ring Jenna left behind on Adam’s headstone. Allison had insisted he take it, as if knowing she’d said good-bye to Adam would make him search for her harder.

He clenched his fist, feeling the edges of Adam Llewellyn’s ring cut into his palm. Like he could be looking any harder. He’d turned the Parker house upside down, but found nothing.

There was absolutely no clue to where Josh had taken his victims and if Nora Lutz knew, she wasn’t saying. She just sat next to her lawyer, unconcerned about Jenna, Kelly ...Any of the senseless tragedy her son had caused . . . It made him want to scream, to throw something. To put his hands around her neck and shake her until she at least showed some remorse. Some regret. Something beyond the arrogant, self-absorbed concern over her precious, demented spawn of Satan.

Lutz was staring at his wife as if she were a complete stranger. “Josh is just not capable.”

Steven gritted his teeth. “I’m not interested in your denials.
I just want to know where he is.
”

Lutz turned his disbelieving eyes from his wife to Steven, then shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Where would he go? Where would he hide? Where could he take, kill, and dismember four young teenaged girls?” Steven smacked the table and Mrs. Lutz flinched, then straightened, making Steven think of a very dowdy queen.

“My Joshua is innocent,” she said coldly. “And this conversation is over.”

“Are my clients being held?” the Lutzes’ lawyer asked mildly. “Or are they free to go?”

Steven looked at Liz who shook her head. “We can’t hold them, Agent Thatcher.”

“Then they’re free to go,” Steven said bitterly and watched them leave. Free as birds while their son held Jenna. He closed his mind, not allowing himself to think about what could be happening to her at that moment. To Kelly, should she still be alive. Not allowing himself to remember the horror of Alev’s mutilated body. Or Samantha’s. Or Lorraine’s. He knew Neil had tacked four more names onto the list of victims he wasn’t allowing himself to remember.

But of course they remembered. Josh had made sure they knew exactly what he could do. Because Josh knew that made the terror that much worse.

He waited until the Lutzes were gone before finding Sandra. “Follow them,” he said through his teeth. “I want to know how many squares of toilet paper they use to wipe their asses until we find Jenna and Kelly.” He looked around, irritably. “Where’s Harry? I haven’t seen him all day.”

Nancy slid her arm around his waist. “He called a few hours ago. He’s got a lead on the Richards man, the dead farmer who supposedly bought the ketamine. Harry said he’d call again when he had something. Steven, I want you to go home. Brad’s called for you twice. Your kids need you at home.” She hugged him to her. “Have courage, Steven. It will be all right. I know it.”

Steven dragged his palms down his face, feeling numb.
Have courage, Steven.
“She said that to me, the first day we met. Jenna did.”

Nancy hugged him again and shoved him toward the door. “Then listen to her, Steven.”

Friday, October 14, 10:00
P.M.

Helen met him with open arms. Nicky stood in the foyer, stoic and wise. Mike stood behind him, hands on Nicky’s shoulders, Nicky’s red hair bright against the black of Mike’s robes. Matt’s eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. Brad stood beside him, his arm around Matt’s shoulders.

No one said a word until Nicky spoke up, his little boy voice strong. “She’ll come home, Daddy,” he said. “You’ll bring her home just like you brought me home.”

Matt stifled a sob that he tried to hide.

Steven’s throat closed. He dropped his chin to his chest, clenched his eyes shut, and battled to keep it all inside just a little longer. Just until he got alone, away from the boys, where they couldn’t see him cry. He’d nearly shoved it all back down when two little arms wrapped around his waist and hugged tight. He opened his eyes to see Nicky’s red head burrowed into his stomach. His chest heaved as his breath came shuddering out. He brushed his hands over Nicky’s hair, then hoisted his little boy into his arms and hugged him with a ferocity that made Nicky protest.

“Daddy.”

Steven loosened his hold, burying his face in Nicky’s shoulder. “Sorry, buddy.”

Nicky patted his back. “It’s okay.”

Mike stepped forward and took Nicky from his arms. “I think your dad needs some space, boys,” he said, shepherding everyone into the kitchen. “Let’s fix him some dinner.”

Only Brad remained, looking at him with serious eyes. Steven cleared his throat, refusing to be embarrassed. “Nancy said you’ve been trying to reach me all day. I’m sorry I didn’t call you back.” Brad shook his head. “It’s okay, Dad. I didn’t know what was happening. I never would have bothered you if I’d known.”

Steven made his mouth curve. “Well, now I’m home. So tell me what’s on your mind.”

Brad didn’t smile back. “Can we go in your office? There’s something I need to say.”

So they went, Steven’s stomach heavy as lead.
What next? What now?

Brad shut the door and leaned back against it. “I’m only going to tell you now because I know Dr. Marshall would want me to. I went to see her today.”

Steven’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“To try to get her to come back to you. To show her this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper Steven instantly recognized. His eyes shot up to Brad’s.

“When did you find it?” he asked quietly.

Brad shrugged. “Labor Day. I was looking in the top drawer of your bureau for a picture of all of us together because I wanted to have it made into a calendar for Grandma. Then I found this.”

Steven took the ragged paper and stared at it for a moment. “You blamed me.”

“For lying to me,” Brad said. “And for making her leave,” he added, looking away.

“You thought she’d left because I cheated?”

Brad shrugged. “I didn’t know. I guess it was easier to blame you because you were here. And you hadn’t told the truth from the beginning.”

“You want the truth now?” Steven said and Brad met his eyes and nodded. “I was never unfaithful to your mother. In the thirteen years we were married I never touched another woman.”

Brad looked up. “I believe you.”

Steven exhaled, relieved. “Your mother wasn’t happy,

Brad. So she decided to leave. I had no idea it was coming to that.”

“What would you have done if you’d known?”

“I honestly don’t know, Brad. I don’t even know if there’s anything I could have done. But I don’t regret not telling you the truth. I would have done anything to spare you this pain.”

“So you took it all on yourself.”

“I did.”

“Did you think we might have been able to help, Dad?” Brad asked, his voice wavering. “Did you think maybe we could have supported you through it?”

“No,” Steven answered truthfully. “I didn’t. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“It hurt more knowing you didn’t trust me.” He looked away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .”

“It’s okay, son. I know I should have trusted Jenna, too, but I didn’t and now she’s gone.”

“She’ll be back, Dad. I know it.” Brad hesitated, then put his hand on Steven’s shoulder. “And when you get her back, she’ll come back to you.”

Steven swallowed, slipped his hand in his pocket, and fingered Adam Llewellyn’s ring, hoping against hope his son was right on both counts. “You seem sure.”

Brad’s expression became intense. “She cares about you. Anybody that has eyes can see it. You hurt me, too, by not trusting me about Mom, but here I am. I came back. Because... because I love you, Dad. She’ll be back, just like I came back.”

Steven struggled, then gave up and let the emotion come, choking on a sob when Brad’s arms circled him, holding him, patting his back as the tears came. “I’m so afraid,” Steven whispered. “I’m so afraid he’ll hurt her. That he’ll kill her like all the others.”