Split Second (73 page)

I
f it hadn’t been so late, Maggie would have offered to take Gwen out for dinner. However, she had spent too much time at the hospital making sure Tess was comfortable and that Agent Tully had no permanent damage to his leg.

Though she should have been completely exhausted, for the first time in a very long time she felt like celebrating. So she searched and discovered a Chinese place that was still open on the north side of Newburgh Heights. She could finally stop by a restaurant again without worrying the waitress would end up in a Dumpster the next day. She picked up kung pao chicken, sweet-and-sour pork and plenty of fried rice. She asked for extra fortune cookies and wondered whether Harvey liked egg rolls.

Maggie arrived home to find the two of them curled up in the recliner watching Jay Leno on the portable TV. The cartons reminded her once again of the carton Stucky had stolen, now gone forever, literally up in flames. The photo album had contained the only pictures she had possessed of her father. She didn’t want to think about it right now. Not now when she was enjoying what felt like some sort of liberation.

Gwen saw the bags of takeout and smiled. “Thank God! I’m starved.”

She had called Gwen from the road, filling her in on most of the details. Her friend had sounded relieved not only for Maggie but for herself as well. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about Walker Harding ever again.

“Why don’t you spend the night here?” Maggie suggested over a forkful of chicken.

“I have an early-morning appointment. I’d rather drive tonight. I’m worthless in the morning.” She was examining Maggie while she scooped out more rice. “How are you? Honestly?”

“Honestly? I’m fine.”

Gwen frowned at her as though that was too easy an answer.

“I came close to getting Tully and myself killed,” she said, now serious. “I panicked with the fire. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. But you know what?” She smiled. “I survived. And I got us out of there.”

“Very good. Sounds like you passed some major personal test, Maggie.”

Harvey shoved his nose under Maggie’s arm, insisting on another egg roll. She gave him a half-eaten roll and patted his back.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to feed dogs egg rolls, Maggie.”

“And how would I know that? Is there a book with all these rules?”

“I’m sure there are several. I’ll pick one up for you.”

“Might not be a bad idea since it looks like Harvey and I are going to be permanent roommates.”

“Does that mean you were right about his owner?”

“Tess told us there was another woman. A woman named Rachel who’s dead in a pit somewhere on the property. Of course we don’t know yet, but I feel certain it’s Rachel Endicott.” She noticed Gwen’s grimace. “They’ll continue to search for her tomorrow. Tess said there were other bodies, bones, skulls. Stucky and Har-ding may have been using this property for years.”

“What do you suppose Harding had planned for me?”

“Don’t, Gwen,” Maggie snapped at her, and immediately she apologized. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to think about it, okay?”

“I suppose it makes sense that the two of them would have eventually moved on to women you knew more intimately. Friends, relatives…oh, speaking of intimately—” she smiled “—that reminds me. You had a phone call earlier. That hunky ex-quarterback from Nebraska.”

“Nick?”

“What, you know more than one hunky ex-quarterback?” Gwen looked as if she was enjoying Maggie’s annoying blush.

“Did he want me to call him back tonight?”

“Actually, he said he was headed for the airport. I took a message.” Gwen pulled herself up off the floor. “You need to shop for a table, Maggie. I’m getting too old to be eating on the floor.” She found the note she had left on the desk. She read the message, squinting as though someone else had written it. “He said his dad had a heart attack.”

“Oh Jesus.” Now Maggie wished she had talked to him. Nick and his father had a complex relationship, one in which Nick had only recently been able to get away from. “Is he going to be okay? He’s not dead, is he?”

“No, but I think Nick said they were talking about surgery as soon as possible.” Gwen scrunched up her face as she continued to decipher her notes.

“This is something that I didn’t understand. He said his dad had received a letter, and that’s what they think may have caused the heart attack. But unless I’m mistaken, I could swear Nick said the letter was from South America.”

Maggie felt sick to her stomach. Had Father Michael Keller sent Antonio Morrelli some sort of confession? Maggie seemed to be the only one who believed the charismatic young priest was the one who had killed four boys in Platte City, Nebraska. But he had left the country before she had been able to prove it. The last she knew, he was still in South America.

“That’s it,” Gwen said. “Does any of that makes sense to you?”

The phone startled both of them.

“Maybe this is Nick.” Maggie untangled herself out of the cross-legged position on the floor and grabbed the phone. “Maggie O’Dell.”

“Agent O’Dell. It’s Assistant Director Cunningham.”

She checked her watch. It was late, and she had just seen him at the hospital a couple of hours ago.

“Is Tully okay?” It was the first thing that came to mind.

“He’s fine. I’m with Dr. Holmes. He was good enough to do the autopsies tonight.”

“Dr. Holmes has had his share of autopsies in the past two weeks.”

“There’s a problem, Agent O’Dell.” Cunningham didn’t waste any time.

“What kind of problem?” Maggie prepared herself, leaning against the desk and gripping the phone. Gwen watched from her perch on the recliner.

“Walker Harding died of a gunshot wound to the back of his head. He was shot with a .22, execution style. Not only that, but his organs are in an extremely advanced state of decomposition. Dr. Holmes is guessing he’s been dead for several weeks.”

“Several weeks? That’s impossible, sir. We found his fingerprints at three of the crime scenes.”

“I think we might have an explanation for that. Several of his fingers are missing, cut off, including his thumb. I’m guessing Stucky did it. Took the fingers with him. Preserved them and used them at the crime scenes to throw us off.”

“But Gwen has had two sessions with Harding.” She glanced at Gwen and her friend’s face showed concern and alarm. Even Harvey started pacing in the sunroom, tilting his head, listening.

“Dr. Patterson has never seen Albert Stucky,” Cunningham said, keeping his cool professional tone and ignoring the frantic edge to Maggie’s. “If we ask her to describe the man she had the sessions with, I’m guessing she’ll describe Stucky. I’ve only seen one or two photos of Harding, but if I remember correctly, there was an uncanny resemblance between the two men. Stucky must have been using Harding’s identity for some time now, pretending to be him. That probably also explains the airline ticket in Harding’s name.”

“Jesus.” Maggie couldn’t believe it. Though it all made sense. She wasn’t sure she had completely believed Stucky would allow anyone, even Harding, in on his game. “So he had the perfect disguise and the perfect hiding place.”

“There’s more, Agent O’Dell. The other body has been dead for several weeks, too, and it’s not Albert Stucky.”

Maggie sat down before her knees gave out from under her. “No, this can’t be happening. He can
not
have escaped again.”

“We’re not sure who it is. Maybe a friend or caretaker of Harding’s. Harding was definitely blind. Dr. Holmes says both his retinas were detached, and there were no signs of diabetes.”

Maggie was barely listening anymore. She could hardly hear him over the pounding of her heart as she glanced frantically around the room. She noticed Harvey sniffing at the back door, now agitated. Where the hell had she left her Smith & Wesson? She opened the desk drawer. The Glock was gone.

“I’ve sent several agents back to watch your house,” Cunningham said as if that would be enough. “I suggest you not leave tonight. Stay put. If he comes after you, we’ll be ready.”

If he comes after me, I’ll be a sitting duck, but she kept the thought to herself.

She met Gwen’s questioning eyes. The fear began invading Maggie’s system like cold liquid injected into her veins. Still, she held herself up and pushed away from the solid security of her father’s rolltop desk.

“Stucky wouldn’t dare come after me again.”

I
f it hadn’t been so late, Maggie would have offered to take Gwen out for dinner. However, she had spent too much time at the hospital making sure Tess was comfortable and that Agent Tully had no permanent damage to his leg.

Though she should have been completely exhausted, for the first time in a very long time she felt like celebrating. So she searched and discovered a Chinese place that was still open on the north side of Newburgh Heights. She could finally stop by a restaurant again without worrying the waitress would end up in a Dumpster the next day. She picked up kung pao chicken, sweet-and-sour pork and plenty of fried rice. She asked for extra fortune cookies and wondered whether Harvey liked egg rolls.

Maggie arrived home to find the two of them curled up in the recliner watching Jay Leno on the portable TV. The cartons reminded her once again of the carton Stucky had stolen, now gone forever, literally up in flames. The photo album had contained the only pictures she had possessed of her father. She didn’t want to think about it right now. Not now when she was enjoying what felt like some sort of liberation.

Gwen saw the bags of takeout and smiled. “Thank God! I’m starved.”

She had called Gwen from the road, filling her in on most of the details. Her friend had sounded relieved not only for Maggie but for herself as well. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about Walker Harding ever again.

“Why don’t you spend the night here?” Maggie suggested over a forkful of chicken.

“I have an early-morning appointment. I’d rather drive tonight. I’m worthless in the morning.” She was examining Maggie while she scooped out more rice. “How are you? Honestly?”

“Honestly? I’m fine.”

Gwen frowned at her as though that was too easy an answer.

“I came close to getting Tully and myself killed,” she said, now serious. “I panicked with the fire. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. But you know what?” She smiled. “I survived. And I got us out of there.”

“Very good. Sounds like you passed some major personal test, Maggie.”

Harvey shoved his nose under Maggie’s arm, insisting on another egg roll. She gave him a half-eaten roll and patted his back.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to feed dogs egg rolls, Maggie.”

“And how would I know that? Is there a book with all these rules?”

“I’m sure there are several. I’ll pick one up for you.”

“Might not be a bad idea since it looks like Harvey and I are going to be permanent roommates.”

“Does that mean you were right about his owner?”

“Tess told us there was another woman. A woman named Rachel who’s dead in a pit somewhere on the property. Of course we don’t know yet, but I feel certain it’s Rachel Endicott.” She noticed Gwen’s grimace. “They’ll continue to search for her tomorrow. Tess said there were other bodies, bones, skulls. Stucky and Har-ding may have been using this property for years.”

“What do you suppose Harding had planned for me?”

“Don’t, Gwen,” Maggie snapped at her, and immediately she apologized. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to think about it, okay?”

“I suppose it makes sense that the two of them would have eventually moved on to women you knew more intimately. Friends, relatives…oh, speaking of intimately—” she smiled “—that reminds me. You had a phone call earlier. That hunky ex-quarterback from Nebraska.”

“Nick?”

“What, you know more than one hunky ex-quarterback?” Gwen looked as if she was enjoying Maggie’s annoying blush.

“Did he want me to call him back tonight?”

“Actually, he said he was headed for the airport. I took a message.” Gwen pulled herself up off the floor. “You need to shop for a table, Maggie. I’m getting too old to be eating on the floor.” She found the note she had left on the desk. She read the message, squinting as though someone else had written it. “He said his dad had a heart attack.”

“Oh Jesus.” Now Maggie wished she had talked to him. Nick and his father had a complex relationship, one in which Nick had only recently been able to get away from. “Is he going to be okay? He’s not dead, is he?”

“No, but I think Nick said they were talking about surgery as soon as possible.” Gwen scrunched up her face as she continued to decipher her notes.

“This is something that I didn’t understand. He said his dad had received a letter, and that’s what they think may have caused the heart attack. But unless I’m mistaken, I could swear Nick said the letter was from South America.”

Maggie felt sick to her stomach. Had Father Michael Keller sent Antonio Morrelli some sort of confession? Maggie seemed to be the only one who believed the charismatic young priest was the one who had killed four boys in Platte City, Nebraska. But he had left the country before she had been able to prove it. The last she knew, he was still in South America.

“That’s it,” Gwen said. “Does any of that makes sense to you?”

The phone startled both of them.

“Maybe this is Nick.” Maggie untangled herself out of the cross-legged position on the floor and grabbed the phone. “Maggie O’Dell.”

“Agent O’Dell. It’s Assistant Director Cunningham.”

She checked her watch. It was late, and she had just seen him at the hospital a couple of hours ago.

“Is Tully okay?” It was the first thing that came to mind.

“He’s fine. I’m with Dr. Holmes. He was good enough to do the autopsies tonight.”

“Dr. Holmes has had his share of autopsies in the past two weeks.”

“There’s a problem, Agent O’Dell.” Cunningham didn’t waste any time.

“What kind of problem?” Maggie prepared herself, leaning against the desk and gripping the phone. Gwen watched from her perch on the recliner.

“Walker Harding died of a gunshot wound to the back of his head. He was shot with a .22, execution style. Not only that, but his organs are in an extremely advanced state of decomposition. Dr. Holmes is guessing he’s been dead for several weeks.”

“Several weeks? That’s impossible, sir. We found his fingerprints at three of the crime scenes.”

“I think we might have an explanation for that. Several of his fingers are missing, cut off, including his thumb. I’m guessing Stucky did it. Took the fingers with him. Preserved them and used them at the crime scenes to throw us off.”

“But Gwen has had two sessions with Harding.” She glanced at Gwen and her friend’s face showed concern and alarm. Even Harvey started pacing in the sunroom, tilting his head, listening.

“Dr. Patterson has never seen Albert Stucky,” Cunningham said, keeping his cool professional tone and ignoring the frantic edge to Maggie’s. “If we ask her to describe the man she had the sessions with, I’m guessing she’ll describe Stucky. I’ve only seen one or two photos of Harding, but if I remember correctly, there was an uncanny resemblance between the two men. Stucky must have been using Harding’s identity for some time now, pretending to be him. That probably also explains the airline ticket in Harding’s name.”

“Jesus.” Maggie couldn’t believe it. Though it all made sense. She wasn’t sure she had completely believed Stucky would allow anyone, even Harding, in on his game. “So he had the perfect disguise and the perfect hiding place.”

“There’s more, Agent O’Dell. The other body has been dead for several weeks, too, and it’s not Albert Stucky.”

Maggie sat down before her knees gave out from under her. “No, this can’t be happening. He can
not
have escaped again.”

“We’re not sure who it is. Maybe a friend or caretaker of Harding’s. Harding was definitely blind. Dr. Holmes says both his retinas were detached, and there were no signs of diabetes.”

Maggie was barely listening anymore. She could hardly hear him over the pounding of her heart as she glanced frantically around the room. She noticed Harvey sniffing at the back door, now agitated. Where the hell had she left her Smith & Wesson? She opened the desk drawer. The Glock was gone.

“I’ve sent several agents back to watch your house,” Cunningham said as if that would be enough. “I suggest you not leave tonight. Stay put. If he comes after you, we’ll be ready.”

If he comes after me, I’ll be a sitting duck, but she kept the thought to herself.

She met Gwen’s questioning eyes. The fear began invading Maggie’s system like cold liquid injected into her veins. Still, she held herself up and pushed away from the solid security of her father’s rolltop desk.

“Stucky wouldn’t dare come after me again.”