Strip Search (41 page)

“And he left? While I was talking?”

Granger shrugged. “Looked like he thought of something he’d forgotten. Or maybe saw something, someone. I don’t know. Anyway, he started flapping his hands and then he ran out the back door.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he—”

“Have either of you seen Darcy?”

Granger and I both slowly pivoted to the left. Chief O’Bannon was asking the question.

“No,” I answered.

“You got him on some…math quest or something?”

“No, nothing. I expected him to be here. Why?”

“Got a call from one of my neighbors. She’s known Darcy since the day he was born. Says she heard some kind of commotion next door.”

I felt an icy grip at the base of my spine.

“It’s nothing,” I said, sounding just as unconvincing as I felt. “You know how unpredictable Darcy is. Probably saw a rare species of butterfly or something.”

The crease in O’Bannon’s forehead deepened. “Is there any chance…any at all…”

I didn’t need super-empathy to know where he was going. “Darcy doesn’t fit the profile. Esther only kills bad parents.”

“Tucker did his damnedest to take you out. Darcy was with you when you interviewed Goldstein.”

My throat went dry. I felt shaky, anxious, barely able to breathe.
Darcy!

“But why now?” Granger asked. “That interview was—” He snapped his fingers. “The press conference. She must’ve seen him at the press conference!”

“And then she realized how we’ve managed to decode all her little mathematical puzzles,” I added somberly.

O’Bannon didn’t waste a second. “Amanda! I want an APB out on my son. Now! Granger, mobilize every man you have available and—”

There was more, but I didn’t hear it. I was already halfway to my car. I wanted to dig into my purse, wanted to pull out the pill bottle that would make the acidic aching eating away at my stomach lining go away. But I didn’t. That was how I missed Esther the first time. I couldn’t let it happen again. Darcy needed me. All of me, everything I had to give.

I just prayed to God I wasn’t too late.

“HELLO, DARCY,” Esther said. “Remember me?”

He was standing in the kitchen holding a book and a folded piece of paper. He picked up a package of Pizza Hut chicken wings from the counter, tossed them into the microwave oven, then started it.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

He looked at her strangely. “I thought you might be hungry.”

She laughed at him. “Idiot savant. Mostly idiot. Do you remember who I am?”

“Of course. I remember the way you smell. The sound of your shoes. You are the Math Lady.”

“Yes, I am,” she said, smiling slightly. “What else do you know about me?”

“You made all those nice people die.”

“They weren’t nice people, Darcy.”

“I do not think anyone is so bad they should get killed.” His hands flapped wildly in the air. “I do not think people should kill each other. Killing is bad.” Darcy didn’t make eye contact with her. Instead, he sat down on the hardwood floor and crouched in a fetal position, arms around his legs, and rocked back and forth.

“I brought you some more math puzzles. You like puzzles, don’t you?”

“Stay away from me. Please stay away from me.”

She moved closer. “You don’t have to hold yourself, Darcy. Here, let me hold you.”

“No!” He scooted away from her. “I do not like for people to hold me. I do not like for people to touch me!”

“Oh, nonsense. You’ll change your mind when you see what I have for you.”

“I will not. Stay away from me!”

“I can’t, Darcy. A smart boy like you, so gifted with numbers. You deserve a reward.”

“A reward? Do you mean a treat? I like treats.”

“All right, then. We’ll call it a treat.” She reached inside her Wind-breaker and removed a large serrated knife. “I can’t let you spoil my plans, Darcy, but I can let you become an important part of them.” She smiled. “Come closer, dear. I have something very special for you.”

“HURRY! I SHOUTED without moving my lips as I barreled down the highway. I’d heard of backseat drivers before, but this was the first time I’d ever experienced being a backseat driver to myself. I careened through the neighborhood gateposts and tore down the road at a speed that sent trash, leaves, and a few small animals flying out of my path.

Even before I arrived at the O’Bannon residence, I could hear the alarm.

Some of the neighbors were gathered outside, huddled on the front lawn. “We tried to get in there,” one of them shouted at me. “But we didn’t have a key.”

I didn’t have a key, either, but thanks to Chief O’Bannon, I did have a gun. Three shots were enough to get the door open. I raced inside, throwing caution to the wind. I didn’t have time to stealthily creep into each room, gun poised. I had to find Darcy.

“Darcy!” I shouted. “
Darcy?
Where are you?”

No answer.

Okay,
think,
I told myself. Calm down and think. Someone or something set off the alarm. So logically, he must have been here.

Or someone else was here. Or both.

I like to think of myself as an optimist, but even I couldn’t kid myself that much. I knew what would happen if Esther, the cold-blooded mastermind behind half a dozen murders, were alone with Darcy, the boy who couldn’t step on a spider. Darcy wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Darcy!” I screeched, so loud it made my throat hurt. “Are you here?”

I knew from the time when I’d stayed here with him where all his favorite hiding spots were, nooks and crannies where he huddled when he was experiencing sensory overload. He wasn’t in any of them.

I checked in the library, upstairs, downstairs, his room, the backyard. I was running at the speed of light, sending my heart into palpitations. I was certain he wasn’t here. And that meant she hadn’t killed him, right? Because if she had, I would have found the—

No. Not with this killer. She never left the corpses behind. Just pieces.

I found blood smeared on the wall about a foot off the floor in the entryway just beyond the front door. Enough to tell me someone was hurt.

Tears flooded my eyes. That goddamned—

The worst of it was, it was my fault. Again. Why had I brought him with me? Why had I let him come to the press conference? Why had I involved him in the case at all? Why had I been so doped up I couldn’t spot a serial killer when I stared her in the face?

It was my fault, all the way. My fault.

Darcy!

ESTHER GRIPPED the steering wheel of her car and made her way downtown. That had been…unpleasant. But it didn’t matter now. Her opportunity was at hand. She knew when she would be able to get in and out, to do what needed to be done…and then retreat and wait for the excitement to begin. The screaming of the sinners. The wailing of the worthless.

Till God came begging, crawling on His hands and knees. Begging her for forgiveness.

She parked her car just outside the courthouse. Nothing could stop her now. Nothing at all.

“ARE YOU SURE he isn’t there?” Granger barked over his cell phone.

“Positive. Send your men somewhere else. Interview the neighbors. Go to the day care center where he works. Someone must know something.”

“I’m concerned about the clock, Susan. If your theory is correct, that killer is going to strike—”

“Never mind that, dammit.” I talked while I raced to my car. “I’m going to get back to the office and see if I can find any trace of him. Or Esther. It’s possible she took him captive.” I said it, even though I didn’t believe it. She had no reason to do anything other than kill him. “You work the other end of the equation. Find Darcy.”

“I’ve pulled every man available onto this, but I can’t justify anything more when we think the killer is about to strike.”

“Granger, goddamn it, listen to me. Darcy comes first!”

“Susan, you’re not being rational. According to your own report, her next attack could be a large-scale assault. I can’t justify chasing one kid—”

“If you don’t, Granger, so help me, I’ll rip your fucking balls off!”

“You’re a psycho, Pulaski.”

“Granger—” I clamped my jaw shut. How many times would I have to try this approach with Granger before I realized it didn’t work? I lowered my voice. “Granger…please. This is important. To the chief and to me. Find Darcy.”

“I can’t—”

“Do it for me,” I blurted out, even though I felt like a fool. “Please. Do it for me.”

“Why the hell should I?”

“Because…I think there was a time when you liked me. At least a little. And I know you liked David.”

“Don’t start—”

“Please, Granger,” I whispered. “Find my Darcy.” I snapped the cell phone closed and slid behind the wheel of my car.

He jumped out of the backseat so suddenly that I practically had a stroke. “Am I really
your
Darcy?”

“Darcy! Darcy! My God, Darcy!” I couldn’t help myself, and I didn’t care if he liked it or not. I threw my arms around him and hugged him tight. “Darcy! Oh, thank God you’re safe.”

He didn’t hug back, but he wasn’t resisting, either. “So when you called me your Darcy, does that mean you are ready to adopt me?”

I could barely speak. “Damn it, Darcy…I’ll do anything you want me to do. Just…don’t ever do that again.”

“Do what? Did I do something bad? Can we go back to the part where I was your Darcy?”

I laughed and cried and choked and in the end just contented myself with hugging him so tightly it might not have been possible for him to breathe. “What have you been doing? Did you see Esther?”

“Oh, yes. She tried to kill me,” he said, with the same inflection I might use to say, “She tried to sell me a new life insurance policy.” “But she did not kill me.”

“I can see that,” I said, still laughing and crying hysterically. “So where the hell have you been?”

“I went home. Then I hid in my neighbor’s yard. Then, when I saw your car, I came back. And,” he added, “I saw the Math Lady. But I got away.”

“You—” I was fighting mightily to stay in control, keep my blood pressure down, and try to figure out what the hell happened. “But there was blood!”

“That was hers, not mine. I went home to get a book on Fibonacci numbers. Did you know that Fibonacci numbers are the most fascinating—”

“Stick to your story, Darcy.”

“I knew the book by heart. But I wanted to prove it to you.”

“Yes, yes. What happened when you saw the—I mean, Esther?”

“It was not a big deal,” he said, shrugging. His modesty might be irritating, if I didn’t know how unaware he was that he was doing anything. “When I saw her, I put some chicken wings in the microwave, but I left the aluminum foil in the box and started the oven. I knew that would start a fire.” He looked down sheepishly. “Because I did it before.”

“I know. I put it out, remember? What happened next?”

“I sat down on the floor and acted like I was scared and waited. A big fire came out of the oven, and the alarm went off, and I ran from the Math Lady with the knife. She shut off the microwave and put out the fire, and while she was doing it, I ran outside and hid. I did not mean to hurt her. I do not like to hurt anyone. But when I ran past her she tried to stab me so I dodged away from her and she fell and banged her forehead.”

“The blood,” I murmured. “Foreheads bleed profusely, even from a minor cut. But—are you telling me you went home just to get some book?”

“Yes. On Fibonacci numbers.”

“And what have you been doing ever since?”

“Working out the math,” he said, beaming from ear-to-ear. “I know where she’s going to go next. I thought that we could stop her maybe, you and me. If we are not too late.”

“HOW CAN YOU know where she’s going to strike?”

“From the math. When I got away from her, she shouted that it didn’t matter, because she would make it all be over at four o’clock.”

Four o’clock? I glanced at my watch. Less than thirty minutes.

“I got a map, too.”

“Map? I thought you said ‘math’? I don’t get it.”

“That is because you do not understand Fibonacci numbers.”

I thumbed through the book Darcy thrust into my hands. “Rabbi Hoffman mentioned these. What on earth are they?”

“Did you know that the numbers followed a pattern? Do you see the pattern?”

“What numbers?”

“The numbers where she made all the bodies be placed.” He pointed to a string of numbers typed on the first page: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377…“See? The third number is the sum of the first two, the fourth is the sum of the second and third, the fifth is the sum of—”

“Okay, I get the idea.” I stared at the chain of numbers, as if there was any chance they might speak to me. “Do these numbers have some…religious significance?”

Darcy’s head tilted slightly. I could almost see the gears turning. “I do not know about that. But this sequence occurs throughout nature, and God created nature, right?”

“That’s what they tell me.”

He thumbed through the book till he found the passage he wanted. It was illustrated with pictures of pinecones, sunflowers, plant life. He pointed and read: “This numerical sequence occurs with such regularity throughout nature that entire journals have been dedicated to documenting these occurrences.” It seemed that the numerical sequence occurred in the petal arrangement of flowers, the spiral arrangement of pinecones and pineapples, the turning of leaves about the stem of various plants. Even genealogical charts followed a Fibonacci pattern. The book referred to it as the Divine Progression.

“I can see how this would appeal to Esther,” I said, “but what has it got to do with the placement of the bodies?”

Darcy crouched down on the backseat of my car, butt up in the air, hovering over a map of the city. He had placed pins at all the locations where the bodies were found. “Did you know that all these locations follow a Fibonacci pattern?”

“But—how? There are no numbers.”