Unforgivable (23 page)

CHAPTER  13

Katie spent the night in groggy wakefulness. She waited for Silas to return and explain his strange behavior. How could he announce that the killer was on the prowl and just take off? 

She set the book down on the bed. Silas
was
spooky. Now she knew why the kids had been so freaked out. She felt the same way. Worse, she felt violated. It was one thing Ben always wanting to know what she was thinking. It was a totally different matter to have someone know your feelings without your permission.

She pulled out the sketch from beneath her mama’s picture on her nightstand. He’d been there with her, that was the only explanation. She put her hand to her chest. Not with her, but inside her. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense in a…well, a spooky kind of way. She’d always trusted Silas, even though everyone else clearly feared him. And he
had
been around during the most tense and scary moments of her life, in one way or another. She glanced at her mama’s smiling face. Even then, when Silas had been in custody of the county social services, she’d felt him beside her.

What had he been doing at their trailer after her mama’s death? 

She tried to read some more, but she had the eeriest feeling someone was watching her. The bedroom door was closed, and her blinds were shut. No one could see in, but the feeling persisted. She’d felt this disorientating feeling before, of not trusting her world anymore, of not knowing herself, either. After her mama died. One day everything was fine, and the next, her world had shattered. Someone said it was a horrible way to take your life. Later she’d understand what that meant. For years she went through the sequence of events in her mind, her mama pulling out the Blue Devil, contemplating. Then opening the top and readying herself…pouring it down her throat.

She had talked to the doctor who was also the medical examiner in Flatlands. He’d been delicate in explaining it to her, as delicate as he could be. Lye, the main ingredient in the drain opener, burned on contact. It tore through her esophagus and compromised her airway. She died from asphyxiation. What he didn’t say was how desperate she must have been to use such a painful method.

More haunting than the image of her mother contemplating that painful end to her life was wondering if she’d felt this same disorientation and despair. Katie thought she’d gotten used to the idea of being trapped and of hating herself for being so unhappy with a wonderful man. Then Silas had come along and turned everything topsy-turvy. Spooky Silas who probably knew everything she’d been feeling about him.

She threw the book across the room, then went still. She’d heard another sound. Scratching. Her heart again jumped into her throat as she picked up the gun and opened the bedroom door. The house was dark except for the slice of light coming from the bedroom. She doused the light and walked back to the kitchen. She heard the scratching again, right outside the window. When she turned on the outside lights, it stopped. 

She left the lights on and returned to bed, huddling into a ball again. Silas had wondered where the little girl he’d once known had gone. She felt like that girl again. Not the feisty one, but the one who was scared and all alone.

Katie climbed into Harold’s truck the next morning, grateful it was the last time she’d have to do it for a while. Dammit, she was talking to Ben about getting another car.

Harold took one look at her, holding her coffee to her chest as she drank, and said, “You look like hell. Was you out looking for the girls last night, too?”

Her heart dropped about three inches. “What girls?”

“Geraldine Thorpe and Dana Westbury.” He put the truck in gear and headed toward the road. “Shame about them, ain’t it?”

“They’re…gone? Like the others?” Her voice sounded raspy enough to get his attention.

“Look like you seen a ghost or something.” He pulled onto the road. “Yep, gone like the others. Morton called the sheriff last night, said Geraldine didn’t come home after work. One of her brothers saw the two of
‘
em walking away from the diner. He offered them a ride, but they said they had girl things to discuss. That was the last anybody saw of them. Except whoever took them, of course.”

Harold wasn’t looking at her like he usually did. He was concentrating on the road, or deep in his thoughts. He looked as ragged as she did. She could hardly breathe as Silas’s urgent words floated through her mind:
He
’
s on the prowl again.

“People…” She cleared the tightness from her throat. “People were looking for them?”

“Bunch of us went driving all over. There wasn’t hide nor hair of
‘
em. We’ll be looking again all day, I’m sure. Maybe we’ll find
‘
em now that it’s light out.”

“Just like Carrie Druthers,” she said, more to herself.

“And a girl in Juliette last year. She’d been sneaking off to meet her boyfriend and disappeared. The boyfriend said he never saw her, but the police figured it was him. Now, they’re wondering. The more we talked about it, the more girls we remembered hearing about going missing. People are talking about a serial killer loose in this area.” He glanced over at her. “That’s some excitement, huh? A real, honest-to-goodness serial killer right here in Flatlands.”

“Why do you think he’s here in Flatlands?”

“Tate has a map of all the disappearances. They’re all around here. He thinks this is his home base.”

Why was Tate involving someone like Harold in the investigation?

Katie tried not to notice the tic, but it pulsed as he lifted his eyebrows and said, “I’ll bet it’s someone we know. Maybe someone we pass a friendly comment to once in a while. Do you pass a friendly comment with anyone, Katie?”

She couldn’t even answer that question, not with the gleam of interest in his eyes. She turned around and saw Silas’s Navigator following a short distance behind. He’d damn well better stop and talk to her after Harold dropped her off. That’s when she noticed the blood on his shirt.

“Is that…blood?”

There was a faded patch of red on his plaid shirt. He glanced down. “Oh, yeah, I cut my hand a few months back.” He imitated the gesture that may have put the blood there, pressing his hand to his stomach. “Cut it deep, too, and there wasn’t anyone around to kiss it and make it better. Imagine that.”

It was easy to imagine, but she wasn’t commenting. 

“Remember, I’m right on the other side of the cemetery if you need me,” he said when she climbed down from his truck. “You just holler if you need me.” He pulled out of the gravel parking lot.

She was too busy watching Silas’s vehicle drive slowly past. His face was indiscernible. The side of the Navigator was scratched. This she noticed as it drove past and disappeared.   That’s when she remembered that piece of paper with his beeper number on it.

As soon as she checked on the dog, she beeped Silas with a 911. He called within a minute.

“Come back here and tell me what’s going on, Silas Koole.”

“You’re all right?”

“No, I’m not all right. I’m confused and worried and…hell, you ought to know just how I feel!” The curse word took her back.

His voice was low when he said, “Katie, don’t say that.”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“I don’t always know what you’re feeling. Only when I’m near you or if it’s an intense emotion.” His voice was fading out.

“Did you find Gary? Geraldine Thorpe and her friend are missing, you know.”

“I know.” There was a pause before he said, “Gary was on patrol. They’d sent him on a domestic disturbance call way out in the boonies. He wasn’t responding to his radio when I tried reaching him. I pretended to be a neighbor who’d seen someone lurking around his apartment.”

“What about Harold?”

“He wasn’t home, either. He lives way out on the east side of Flatlands, in some dump set off from the road. The house was dark, and his truck wasn’t there.”

“Come back here and talk to me.”

“I can’t. There’s something I have to do.”

“Look, Ben’s going to be back sometime today, and then I won’t be able to talk to you until he leaves again this weekend. You can’t let me sit here wondering what’s going on and why you took off like you did last night.”
And what you did while you were gone.

She heard faint music in the background. “I can’t talk right now.” He hung up.

“Damn you!” She banged the phone down on the unit, imagining it was his face. She glanced at the appointment schedule. Nothing for a few hours. She closed up and headed to the library.

“I thought Dr. Ferguson was going to be back today,” Mrs. Miller said, pulling her Pekinese closer to her chest.

Katie had spent the morning reading about Charles Swenson, one of the most heinous serial killers in the history of all serial killers. Silas had detailed the events in Swenson’s life that pushed him over the line. She felt vulnerable in the face of utter evil, sinking into the heart and soul of a man who enjoyed mutilating and killing women. Even if he had been fried two years ago. What she didn’t need was Mrs. Miller’s fearful gaze as she looked at Katie. Particularly when the woman looked an awful lot like her dog.

“He’s on his way home now, but he’s going to help look for those girls.” When Katie had told him on the phone that morning, he cut his trip short to return. “I can handle the vaccinations, Mrs. Miller. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“I’m sure you have, dear, but I only trust Dr. Ferguson with my Petunia. I’ll call to reschedule.” She turned, nearly tripped on the leash that dangled to the floor, and quickly departed without another glance back.

Katie threw down her pen and crossed her arms over her chest. This helpless frustration had been building all day. She walked in the back to visit Goldie. 

“At least you trust me, don’t you?”

Goldie licked her nose and chased away the dark feelings. The dog was limping around the recovery room, but her brown eyes were bright and full of life. Katie always judged a dog’s mood and outlook on what she called their doggie smile. When a dog was relaxed and comfortable, it panted and looked like it was smiling. Goldie did that now and aimed the smile at Katie. She felt ridiculous when her eyes watered in the gratitude and warmth of being someone’s hero.

“Hello, Katie.”

She spun around. It was Gary, looking tired and grim. He walked right up to her, inches from her face, then knelt down and scratched the dog’s head.

“She looks okay.”

Katie called Goldie over to the bed in the corner to get her away from Gary. “She’s doing good for getting hit by a car.”

“You think I hit her on purpose, don’t you?”

She kept her gaze on Goldie. “I don’t know.”

The groan would have touched her if it hadn’t come from Gary. “If you’d let yourself get to know me, you’d see I’m not like that anymore. I like animals. I stopped in to see how she was doing.”

“That’s nice of you.” Her words sounded as hollow as a pipe. “You can see she’s doing just fine. Have you found out who owns her?”

“We’ve been too busy trying to find Geraldine and Dana.”

She slipped by him and out to the reception area. She wanted to put the desk between them. “Have they found anything?”

“They’re gone,” Gary said in a low voice. “Just like the others. People want to believe anything but the truth. They’re even looking for sinkholes. But they’ll never be seen again.” His words sent a shiver down her spine.

“You think Silas is doing this?”

He leaned against the desk, making her back up—and chastise herself for showing fear. “Katie, it’s him. He’s been around the area every time a girl has disappeared or at least shortly afterward. We’re learning a lot about serial killers. They like to be part of the investigation, to pretend to help. Silas writes about it, interviews the families.” His gaze went to the book on her desk. “That’s him. He lives this stuff.” He paused. “He is this stuff.”

She thought of the shadows in Silas’s eyes. Did they hide the pain of a killer? “I can’t believe he’s a killer.”

“You know him that well?”

“No.” She didn’t know, for instance, who the woman he’d lived with was and what she’d meant to him.

“Katie, you’re making alliances with the wrong man. You look at me like I’m the biggest creep in the world. Like
I
’
m
a killer. I’m a cop, for God’s sake! One of the good guys. And when I say Silas is behind this, I see a wall go up in your eyes. Be careful who you trust, little girl.”

“Silas told me the same thing.”

“I’m sure he did. But remember this: he was seen talking to Geraldine just days before she disappeared.”

“She was his waitress!” She remembered seeing him exchanging laughter with the girl, remembered feeling a little jealous about it. “I’ve seen you talking to her, too. And Harold. Probably everyone in town for that matter.”

He ignored that. “And now she’s dead.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

Gary fisted his hand at his chest. “I can feel it. They’re dead, and God only knows what he does with their bodies. It’s like they disappear. He probably chops them up and feeds them to that dog of his.”

“Stop it! You’re just speculating.”

“He’s nowhere to be found today. We didn’t have anyone to keep him under surveillance. Last night I had to take a call, so I couldn’t keep an eye on him.” Which gave Gary opportunity too, she realized. “I checked his place; His stuff is still there, but he and the dog are gone. So are all his files. I’ll bet that son-of-a-bitch is long gone. And if he is, I’m going to hunt him down. The next person who’ll disappear will be Silas Koole.” His face went red with rage and his jaw clenched. 

She didn’t doubt that if Silas walked in just then, Gary would try to kill him. “Let the authorities handle him.” She tried not to let her concern for Silas show in her voice. Or the fear that he’d really left without saying goodbye. Just like last time. Like her mother. “Don’t take matters into your own hands. You don’t know for sure that he’s guilty.” The thought of vigilante justice made her blood freeze.