A Perfect Evil Part 14

"Your father talked him into it?"

"Dad was getting ready to retire. He'd been sheriff for so long, I think he couldn't stand to not have a Morrelli take his place."

"But what about Nick?"

"Oh, he was teaching in the law school down at the university. I think he actually liked it." Christine stopped herself. She wasn't quite sure she understood the complexities of her father and Nick's relationship, let alone explain them to an outsider.

"Your father must be a remarkable man," Maggie said quite simply, without surprise or accusation.

"Why do you say that?" Christine eyed her suspiciously, wondering what Nick may have told her.

"For one thing, he practically captured Ronald Jeffreys single-handedly."

"Yes, he was quite a hero."

"Also, he seems to have a lot of influence over Nick's decisions."

She did know something more. Now Christine was uncomfortable. She poured herself more coffee, taking time with the cream.

"I think our dad just wants Nicky to have all the opportunities he never had. You know, do the things he didn't have a chance to do."

"What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Doesn't he want those same opportunities, those same things for you?"

Christine had to admit, the woman was good. Maggie O'Dell sat in Christine's recliner, sipping coffee and very coolly and calmly probing her.

"I love my dad, knowing full well that he's a bit of a male chauvinist. No, whatever I did was fine with him. I was a girl. Anything out of the ordinary that I did impressed him. Nicky, on the other hand, had it tougher. It's a little more...complex. Nick's constantly had to prove himself, whether he wanted to or not. I suppose that's one of the reasons why he gets so p.i.s.sed at me."

"No, usually it's because of your big mouth." Nick startled them from the doorway. Timmy stood beside his uncle, smiling as though he was about to get in on something Christine would normally censor.

The phone rang, saving her from a lecture. Christine jumped up, almost knocking her coffee cup off its saucer. She crossed the room and picked up the phone before its third ring.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Christine, it's Hal. Sorry to bother you. Is Nick still there?" His voice crackled. She heard humming, an engine. He was in his car.

"Yes. As a matter of fact, you may have just saved my day." She glanced back at Nick and stuck out her tongue, making Timmy giggle and Nick fume.

"That would be nice-to save someone's day." The crackle couldn't hide the distress in his voice.

"Hal, are you okay? What's going on?"

"Could I just talk to Nick, please?"

Before she could say anything more, Nick was at her side, reaching for the phone. She surrendered it and loitered by the desk until Nick shot her a look.

"Hal, what is it?" He turned his back to them and listened. "Don't let anyone touch anything." The panic in his voice exploded, laced with urgency.

Maggie responded, immediately getting to her feet. Christine gently grabbed Timmy by the shoulders.

"Timmy, go get ready for bed."

"Ah, Mom, it's early."

"Timmy, now." Her brother's panic was contagious. The boy grudgingly headed upstairs.

"I mean it, Hal." Now there was anger to camouflage the panic. It didn't fool her. Christine knew her brother all too well. "Secure the area, but don't let anyone touch a thing. O'Dell's here with me. We'll be there in about fifteen to twenty minutes." When he turned, his eyes immediately sought out Maggie's as he hung up the phone.

"My G.o.d. They found Matthew's body, didn't they?" Christine said what only seemed obvious.

"Christine, I swear, if you print a word." The angry panic threatened to turn into fury.

"People have the right to know."

"Not before his mother. Will you, at least, please have the decency to wait-for her sake?"

"On one condition..."

"Jesus, Christine, listen to yourself!" he spat out in such anger it forced her to take a step backward.

"Just promise you'll call me when it's okay to go ahead. Is that too much to ask?"

He shook his head in disgust. She looked to Maggie, who waited by the door, no longer willing to come between brother and sister. Then, she looked back at Nick. "Come on, Nicky. You don't want me camped out on Mich.e.l.le Tanner's front porch, do you?" She smiled, just enough to let him know she wasn't serious.

"Don't you dare talk to anyone or print a d.a.m.n thing until you hear from me. And stay the h.e.l.l away from Mich.e.l.le Tanner." He wagged an angry finger in her face, then stomped out.

Christine waited until the Jeep's taillights turned the corner at the end of the street. She grabbed the phone and punched * *69. It rang only once.

"Deputy Langston."

"Hal, hi, it's Christine." Before he could ask any questions she hurried on. "Nicky and Maggie just left. Nicky asked me to keep trying George Tillie. You know, ol' George, he could sleep through World War III."

"Yeah?" The one word was filled with suspicion.

"I can't remember the exact location, you know to tell George."

Silence. d.a.m.n, he was onto her.

She took a stab. "It's off Old Church Road..."

"Right." He sounded relieved. "Tell George to go a mile past the state-park marker. He can leave his car in Ron Woodson's pasture, up on top of the hill. He'll see the spotlights down in the woods. We'll be close to the river."

"Thanks, Hal. I know it probably sounds insensitive and unlikely, but I keep hoping it's some runaway and not Matthew, for Mich.e.l.le's sake."

"I know what you mean. But there's no doubt. It's Matthew. I gotta go. Tell George to be careful walking down here."

She waited for the click, then dialed Taylor Corby's home number.

CHAPTER 32.

Light snow glittered in the Jeep's headlights. They parked on an incline that overlooked the river. Bright spotlights illuminated the grove of trees below, creating eerie shadows, ghosts with spindly arms that waved in the breeze.

It reminded Maggie of a similar night, years ago, searching for a killer in the dark woods of Vermont. She wondered how much of her memory bank was filled with horror stories where other normal people stored things like Christmas traditions and family events.

The temperature had plunged in the last two hours. The cold cut through her wool jacket, sharp slashes like tiny knives. She hadn't thought to pack a coat. Even Morrelli shivered in his denim jacket. Within seconds, snowflakes clung to her eyelashes, her hair and her clothes, adding wetness to the biting cold. To make matters worse, they had over a quarter of a mile to walk. After contaminating the last crime scene, Morrelli was now overcompensating, instructing his officers and deputies to create a wide perimeter. A perimeter they guarded like military sentries.

The underbrush was thick-like walking through knee-deep water. What was once mud had begun to freeze, leaving a crunchy film. A narrow path twisted through the trees. Nick led the way, snapping branches and twigs. Those that escaped his grasp whipped Maggie's face. She could no longer feel the sting of some where the cold had left her skin numb.

Tree roots jutted up out of the earth, tripping her once. The final descent to the riverbank was steep, forcing them to hang on to branches, tree roots, vines, anything strong enough. The snow had acc.u.mulated just enough to add a slick finish to the rugged terrain. Nick lost his footing, slipped and slammed down hard on his b.u.t.t. He scrambled back to his feet more embarra.s.sed than hurt, waving off her help.

The path ended at the river's bank, where a line of cattails and tall gra.s.s separated the woods from the water. Hal met them. Maggie noticed that a pasty white had replaced his normal ruddy complexion. His eyes were watery, his demeanor quiet. She had witnessed it before-the murder of a child momentarily reducing men to speechless sh.e.l.ls. He led the way while Nick threw questions at him, receiving only nods as answers.

"Bob Weston is sending an FBI forensic team to collect evidence. n.o.body else gets through. n.o.body. You got that, Hal?"

Suddenly, Hal stopped and pointed. At first, Maggie saw nothing. It was peaceful and quiet despite the presence of over two dozen officers scattered throughout the woods. In the distance, a train whistle cut through the thick silence. Snowflakes danced like fireflies in the harsh light of the ma.s.sive spotlights. Then she saw him, the little, white body with a necklace of blood, naked in the snow-laced gra.s.s. His chest was so small, the jagged X slashed from his neck to his waist. His arms lay by his sides, his fists clenched. There had been no need to tie this boy who was much too small to present any threat to his killer.

She left both men and approached slowly, reverently. Yes, the body had been washed clean. Of that, she was already certain. She knelt beside him and carefully brushed the snow from his forehead. Without leaning forward, she saw the smudge of oily liquid. It smeared his blue lips and left another smudge between the X over his heart.

He seemed so fragile, so vulnerable, she wanted to cover him, protect him from the snow that glittered on his gray skin, covering the nasty red-raw slashes and gaping wounds.

He had been out here for a while. Even the sudden cold couldn't disguise the smell. She noticed small puncture marks on the inside of his left thigh, deep but leaving no trace of blood. They had been made after the boy was dead. Perhaps an animal, she thought as she dug out a small flashlight. The punctures were definitely teeth, but human teeth, she realized, overlapping several times as though bitten in a madness or purposely to disguise the imprint. They were close to the groin, but she couldn't see any marks on the p.e.n.i.s. He hadn't done this before. The killer was adding to his routine, getting reckless and accelerating. He had only taken the boy two days ago. Something had changed. Maybe the news reports were making him nervous. Something was different. Something was wrong.

She sat back on her feet, suddenly dizzy and a bit nauseated. She never got sick at crime scenes anymore. In fact, years ago when she stopped vomiting at the sight and smell of dead bodies, she had seen it as an initiation pa.s.sage. Had Albert Stucky dismantled her defense system, punctured her armor? Or had his evil simply made her human again? Retaught her to feel?

She started to crawl back to her feet when she noticed it. A torn piece of paper peeked from between the tiny fingers. Matthew Tanner had something clutched tightly in his fist. She glanced over her shoulder. Nick and Hal stood where she had left them. Their backs were turned to her as they watched five men in FBI windbreakers descend the wooded ridge.

As gently as possible, she twisted the fingers, now stiff and unbending in the advance stages of rigor mortis. She dislodged the crumpled piece of paper. It was thicker than paper and no more than a torn corner. Without even examining it closely, she recognized what it was. Just hours ago she had seen dozens spread out on Timmy Hamilton's bed. Twisted tightly in Matthew Tanner's fist was the corner of a baseball card, and Maggie was pretty sure she knew whom it belonged to.

CHAPTER 33.

The forensic team worked quickly, now threatened by a new enemy. Snow fell more heavily and in large, wet flakes, covering leaves and branches, sticking to gra.s.s and burying valuable evidence.

Maggie and Nick were huddled near the tree line, out of the wind's merciless path. Maggie couldn't believe how cold it had become. She dug her hands deep into her jacket pockets, trying not to wrinkle the photo she had borrowed from Timmy. She and Nick watched in silence as they waited for Hal to bring a blanket, extra jackets, anything to warm them. They stood so close Nick's shoulder brushed against her. She felt his breath against her neck, rea.s.suring her that she could still feel despite the numbness.

"Maybe we should just head back." It was cold enough to see his breath. "There's nothing more we can do here." Nick rubbed his arms, shifted his weight from one foot to the other. She could hear the soft chatter of his teeth.

"Do you want me to go with you to Mich.e.l.le Tanner's?" She pulled her jacket collar up. It didn't help. The cold had invaded every inch of her body.

"Tell me if you think this is a cop-out." He hesitated, gathering his thoughts. "I'd like to wait until morning, not just because I'd be waking her up in the middle of the night. She probably hasn't slept since Sunday. But it might be a while before they get him to the morgue. And no matter how painful it is, she'll want to see him. Laura Alverez insisted on identifying Danny. She wouldn't believe me until she saw him herself." His eyes were watery blue from the wind and the memory. He wiped a sleeve across his face.

"It's not a cop-out. It certainly makes sense. In the morning she may have more people there to lean on. And you're right. By the time they get finished here, it will be morning."

"I'll let these guys know we're leaving."

He started for the forensic team when Maggie saw something and grabbed his arm. Not more than fifteen feet behind Nick was a set of footprints-bare footprints, freshly stamped in the snow.

"Nick, wait," she whispered. "He's here." Her heart started pounding in her ears. Why hadn't she thought of it before? Of course, it made perfect sense.

"What are you talking about?"

"The killer. He's here." She held his arm, digging her nails into the denim jacket to immobilize him and to steady her nerves. Her eyes surveyed the area while she tried to keep her body from twisting and turning, from tipping off the killer who she knew was watching them.

"Do you see him?"

"No, but he's here," she said, carefully glancing around now, making sure he wasn't within earshot. "Try to stay calm and keep your voice down. He could be watching us."

"O'Dell, I think the cold has frozen your brain." Nick looked at her as though he thought she was nuts, but he obeyed her instructions and spoke softly. "There's over two dozen deputies and police officers surrounding this area."

"Directly behind you, next to that tree with the huge knot. There's a set of footprints, bare footprints made in the snow."

She loosened her grip, allowing him to look.

"Jesus." His eyes darted around before they made their way back to hers. "With the snow falling as heavy as it is, those were made recently, very recently. Like, say, minutes ago. The son of a b.i.t.c.h may have been right behind us. What the h.e.l.l do we do?"

"You stay here. Wait for Hal. I'll head up the path like I'm going back to the cars. He must still be inside the perimeter of your people. He shouldn't be able to get out without going past one of them. From up above I might be able to see him."

"I'll come with you."

"No, he'll notice if he's watching. Wait for Hal. I'll need the two of you as backup. Stay calm and try not to look around."

"How will we know where you are?"

"I'll let you know somehow." She kept her voice calm and even, while the adrenaline began to surge. "I'll fire my gun into the air. Just don't let any of your men shoot me."

"Like I can control that."

"I'm not joking, Morrelli."

"Neither am I."