Savage Art (A Chilling Suspense Novel) (22 page)

"One of the kid's uncles is a photographer at a downtown studio. He brought them out."

Casey shivered and zipped her jacket up.

Jordan watched her reaction and wondered whether anyone would show up. "It's going to be cold."

She nodded. "Most of them will be numb to the cold. We can't do it inside. He won't come." Her eyes narrowed as she watched the commotion.

"You're doubting he's going to come at all."

She looked up at him and shrugged. "I guess a little."

"Let's go take a look at the volunteer list. Monica said she'd bring it with her."

As they approached, Monica asked a woman to set up a folding card table and put the boxes of candles and holders there.

Though she appeared busy, Monica looked in her element. "I'm glad you guys are here. Renee's on her way down with the updated list of volunteers. I expect her any minute." She pulled a folded list from the inside pocket of her coat. "Here's the last one. I think Renee has a few additions."

Jordan took the list out of Monica's hand and opened it. The volunteers, all male, were listed one to twenty-four. Included on the list was name, address, occupation, phone, height, estimated weight, and estimated shoe size. Unfortunately, they hadn't found a company to provide shoes for the uniforms, so the process of searching for a size ten shoe became increasingly difficult.

Instead of asking, which might arouse suspicion, Jordan had the two women who measured the men work together to sneak in a shoe measurement as well. While one was measuring the man's sleeve length, the other dropped to one knee and measured the length of his shoe.

The two women, both dispatchers for the county, were chosen because they had looked harmless. "He'll bolt if they seem like cops," Casey had warned. Winnie and Mary seemed like anything but cops. They also tried to estimate the man's weight, but from the list he held, it appeared that their opinions had differed, and the weight ranges were often as much as twenty or thirty pounds.

Jordan motioned Casey to a small bench outside the vigil area and pulled the list open so they could both look at it. He started to run his finger down the column that listed shoe sizes.

"Not yet," Casey said, taking the page and folding that portion of it over.

"Why?"

"Look at occupations," she said, pointing to the column. "I would expect a police-related occupation."

"Fireman, plumber, security guard, security personnel, personal trainer, security, security—hell, half of them are police-related."

She nodded, continuing down the list. "He isn't going to just pop off the page. I want to think it through. If I were him, I wouldn't give my real address or phone. That would be the first place to check."

Jordan focused on the page.

"We need to know if these are real addresses and phone numbers. Names, too."

Jordan spotted Renee and stood up. "I'll be right back." Crossing the grass, he waved at Renee.

"How was the weekend with the kids?" she asked.

"Good. Listen, Renee, I need a favor."

Turning her ear toward him, she said, "Shoot."

"Call someone at the station and have them tap into the computer. I need you to confirm the names, addresses, and phone numbers on this list. Anything that doesn't match, I want to hear about it."

Renee handed the list to him and took the one he'd been holding. "Here's an updated list. These guys should be arriving at seven for instructions. That gives me plenty of time to check them out."

Jordan touched her shoulder. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Jordan returned to Casey with the updated list. She glanced at it and handed it back to him. "Next to each name, you should write down which parts look suspect. Then, when we get a chance to see the shoe sizes, maybe something will click. Someone's checking the information?"

Jordan nodded. "Renee." Then, turning to the list, he made a notation next to each of the security guards.

"There's one, too." Casey pointed to one he'd missed.

"It's quite an assortment of people, isn't it?"

She nodded.

He watched her in frustration. "Walk me through your thought process. I want to understand it."

Looking up at him, she nodded. "Besides the obvious security-type position, we have to think that he might choose an occupation for the opposite reason."

"Something that would seem completely unlike police work?"

She nodded. "Or he might pretend to be someone else, someone maybe who knew the kids."

"Like a teacher?"

Nodding, she pointed to a teacher on the list. "Or maybe an innocent-sounding job."

"Such as?"

"Plumber, gardener..."

Jordan remembered the gardener he had seen at Casey's house. Ramirez. "Where's the gardener?"

She pointed to a name on the list. "Carlos Santa Cruz. What made you think of a gardener?"

Without meeting her gaze, he shrugged. "Nothing."

Casey touched his arm. "Tell me."

Jordan felt his shoulders slump. "That first time I came to your house, there was a gardener across the street." He shook his head. "Something about him struck me."

"And?"

"And nothing. Renee checked the plates. He checked out—name was something Ramirez."

"Weird, the same thing occurred to me."

Jordan paused. "Should I call this guy?"

She shook her head without commenting. "If it was him, he's dumped that getup by now." Casey turned back to the list, moving her finger to the address section.

Jordan leaned over the list. "Anyone live near you?"

"Most of them have San Francisco addresses."

"There's a Walnut Creek—Ronald Mendelsen."

Casey made a mark next to the name. "Long way to travel."

"Jordan!" someone called.

He looked up and saw Renee hurrying toward them.

Both he and Casey stood.

"Five of them aren't real." Renee held out her list. "And you two need to come see something."

"Let's look at the names first." Jordan took it from her and looked down at the marks. "James Pietrich, Walt Warner, Andy Cole, Kevin Hosilyk, and Tom Henrickson." He looked up at Renee.

"What's not real, Renee?" Casey asked. "The name or the address?"

"The
a
means the address doesn't exist."

Jordan found the marks. "That's Pietrich, Warner, and Cole. What about the others?"

"The others are names found in the system, but not at that address."

Casey frowned. "There could be more than one Tom Henrickson."

"But what about Kevin Hosilyk?" Jordan asked.

"Seems less likely."

Jordan met Casey's gaze. "You thinking of another Kevin we know?"

"Maybe, but it seems too obvious. If this is our guy, then he knows about Billy's Kevin, and this is his way of telling us he knows."

Jordan grimaced, realizing that would mean Leonardo had been close to Casey again.

"What size shoes, Renee?"

"Kevin Hosilyk, security guard, size nine and a half."

"Our Kevin has smaller feet than that. I checked them out when he was over."

Jordan nodded. "Good thinking."

Casey flipped her list over. "I think it's time to check shoe sizes on the others."

"I really think you two should take a look over at the minivan," Renee said again.

Jordan frowned. "What's there?"

"Pictures of the victims' families."

"Let's finish this up quickly, and then we'll go."

Renee nodded, but Jordan could tell she was impatient. She studied her list while Casey and Jordan looked over the other. "James Pietrich, attorney, size nine shoe."

Casey shook her head. "I don't think so."

"But why would an attorney lie about his address?" Jordan puzzled.

Casey shrugged. "We'll keep an eye on them all. Who's next?"

"Walt Warner, electrician, size ten."

"Put a star by that one," Casey said.

Jordan nodded. "Especially because of the electrician who came to the house."

"I thought of that, too."

"Next is Andy Cole, fireman, size twelve shoe."

"Shoes are way too big. Who's next?"

"Finally, we have Tom Henrickson, security guard. Size ten shoe."

Casey nodded. "Star him, too."

Renee made a mark. "What about the others?"

Casey touched Renee's sleeve. "See if you can speak to the families as they arrive. See if they recognize any of the names on the list."

Jordan looked at her. "You're thinking it still might be someone they know?"

Casey shrugged. "That, or it's a good way to cross people off the suspect list."

Renee made a note to herself. "Are we done? You ought to come look at the family pictures," she said to Casey.

Casey nodded.

"Why?" Jordan asked. "What's wrong?"

Renee tightened her lips and gave a quick shake of her head. It was a look Jordan knew meant something was bothering her.

"Renee, what's wrong?"

She raised her eyebrows. "You two need to come look."

Casey and Jordan followed Renee across the courtyard and stopped beside a minivan with a photo logo on the side. Inside, a teenage boy was unloading poster-size photographs. The first ones were pictures of the children. Jordan recognized them because they were identical to the ones that the families had turned in to the tips line headquarters.

"Show them the family ones, Ray," Renee said.

The kid nodded and pulled out a second set of posters. Straightening out the drop cloth that covered the moist ground, the boy began to spread the pictures out along the side of the van.

Jordan glanced at each of the family shots. The photo of the first victim's family had been taken at a beach somewhere. The three kids looked a bit cold to be enjoying the weather as the parents huddled over them from behind. Jordan studied the little girl briefly and then looked at the next picture.

The little black girl's family picture was more formal. Two boys were dressed in shirts and ties, their sister between them, and Jordan couldn't help but think of Will and Ryan. As he studied the parents, though, he noticed the mom was white.

He leaned in and looked at her blondish brown hair and light eyes. Actually, she looked a lot like Casey. Her face was fuller, less angular than Casey's, but their coloring was very similar. The father was a dark man, creating a strong contrast between the two of them.

Jordan looked at the third family. They, too, were dressed up. This time it appeared to be for the christening of the youngest child. A long white dress flowed out of the mother's arms, and the little girl whose body he'd discovered in the park stood proudly beside her mother. Her mother—Jordan halted, leaning in again.

"You see it, don't you?" Renee said from behind him.

He spun around and looked at Casey.

"What?"

"I knew you'd see it, too," Renee said.

"See what?" Casey said, leaning in to look at the pictures.

"The mothers—"

Jordan watched as Casey studied the pictures. "What about the mothers?"

"They all look like you," Renee blurted out, pointing at Casey.

Jordan blinked hard and looked again, knowing Renee was right. The children's mothers were all dead ringers for Casey.

Chapter 19

Michael slammed the phone down and slumped onto the bed. "Damn her." Where the hell was Casey? In the last week, he'd dialed her number thirty times at least. He couldn't imagine her going out of town. Hell, last time they'd spoken, she wasn't even leaving the house. How could anyone live without an answering machine? Didn't she even care about her daughter?

He gritted his teeth and unfastened the top button of his shirt, tugging his tie loose. The thing was strangling him. He glanced around the room and remembered the last time he'd seen Casey there. He was leaving for California in thirty-six hours. What on earth was he going to do with Amy while he was working?