Darby McCormick: Fear The Dark Part 18

'What do you mean?'

'Chances are he was watching us yesterday inside the bedroom,' she said. 'He knows I found the area he cleaned up. Maybe he's scared we found something. Or maybe he's scared we're going to find something.'

Williams shifted uneasily in his chair.

'What, you disagree?'

'No,' he said. 'Not at all.'

'So what does our guy do? He decides to crawl out from whatever rock he's been hiding under all this time and makes contact with me. Threatens me. But he knows I'm not going to blow Dodge because of a single phone call. So what does he do next?'

'He sends out those pictures of you and your lady parts.'

Darby spoke with her mouth half full. 'Lady parts? What're you, a nun?'

Williams chuckled. 'I was trying to be respectful,' he said, and glanced at her. 'You know, there's a stable right up the road. I can stop by and get you a feedbag.'

'Sorry, I'm starving.'

'Really? I hadn't noticed.'

Darby chewed, glad that Williams was joking around with her. She didn't want him feeling stiff and embarra.s.sed over what had happened with the pictures.

Then, as if reading her mind, he said, 'This morning, everyone getting those photos '

'It's over with. Done.'

'You always this cut and dry?'

'Once a psycho tries to split your head open like a cantaloup,' Darby said, forking a piece of steak, 'it puts everything else into perspective.'

When he didn't ask any questions, Darby knew he had Googled her and read all the articles about what she'd seen and endured inside Traveler's bas.e.m.e.nt of horrors.

'I admired the way you handled it. And I'm sorry you had to go through that.'

'Thanks. Now back to our guy,' Darby said. 'He sends out these full-frontal shots showing my lady parts, as you described them, to everyone in Red Hill PD. On the surface it looks like he's trying to embarra.s.s and frighten me. He hates women; it's a part of his MO. Maybe a part of him is hoping I'll pack my bags and leave. At the very least, he knows that sending out those pictures will throw me off my game, direct my attention elsewhere.

'But our guy's devised a more insidious plan. He places malware into the pictures and turns our phones into walking listening devices and GPS trackers. It's brilliant when you actually stop to think about it.'

'You admire this guy?'

'You don't?'

Williams glanced over to see if she was joking. She wasn't.

'The Red Hill Ripper isn't your average garden-variety s.a.d.i.s.t,' Darby said, and dug her fork back inside the container. 'He's completely unique, and extremely intelligent. And cunning. Don't ever forget that part. The pictures he sent of me, leaving that burner on Pike's van window he's creating these multiple distractions to keep our focus away from what happened inside the Downes home, from whatever mistake he made there. And he's doing a great job of it. He's pulling the strings and making us dance. He's got us all involved in the world's biggest circle jerk.'

'Circle jerk,' Williams repeated flatly.

'They taught us to speak that way at Harvard. Part of the curriculum.'

Williams cracked a smile and then it suddenly died on his lips. He had withdrawn his attention again.

He inhaled deeply and visibly stiffened.

'There's something I need to tell you,' he said.

37.

Darby speared the last piece of steak on her fork, wondering if Ray Williams was going to tell her about the pictures he'd been accused of taking inside the Connelly house.

'Teddy and his people are going to be a permanent fixture in our lives from now on,' Williams said.

'I kind of got that impression when Lancaster asked Laurie Richards to book him a few rooms. What's going on?'

Williams scratched the corner of his mouth. The air blowing inside the cruiser was cool and smelled of pine and wood smoke from a nearby fire.

'Robinson tell you that those pictures of you were also sent to four uniforms who were out on patrol this morning?'

Darby nodded. 'He said you went out to meet them, to make sure they deleted the photos from their phones,' she said. 'Thank you for that, by the way.'

'You're welcome. One of the guys I met after the debrief, Ricky Samuels, told me he saw a Brewster crime scene van parked in the driveway of the Downes house at about nine or so. I drove over to the house but the van wasn't there. No one was.

'I went back to the station and told the chief. Robinson got on the horn and called the Brewster sheriff, guy by the name of Patterson. He told Robinson he thought it might be a good idea to have a second set of eyes go through the house. Form a joint task force that will take a good, hard look at '

'The feds are already handling the evidence,' Darby said.

'Robinson mentioned that.'

'Their Denver office is sending back the two agents with forensics experience, along with the mobile lab.'

'This isn't Boston. Here, the sheriff's office has more power than a local police precinct.'

'You telling me this bozo sheriff believes he's got people who are better equipped and more experienced than those employed at the federal lab?'

'I'm saying there's a movement afoot to hand over the reins of the Red Hill Ripper investigation to Teddy after what happened last night at the Downes house.'

'That bulls.h.i.t story about the patrolman, what's-his-name, Nelson, taking pictures inside the house?'

Williams sighed, like he was about to relieve himself of a great burden.

'There might be some truth to it,' he said.

Darby tossed her fork inside the container, closed the lid and gave him her full attention.

'The previous victims, the Connelly family,' Williams said. 'The state handled the crime scene like all the others. Only the photographer they had on call that night, a guy who has since been fired he was doing a rather shoddy job, in my opinion. I think he might've been s.h.i.tfaced the guy reeked of booze. It was out of my control, but that didn't mean I had to take a back seat and let him do a s.h.i.t job either. So I decided to take my own pictures. Only I made a mistake.'

Then his face contorted in shame and embarra.s.sment. 'It was late and I was exhausted. Instead of heading back to the station and getting the digital camera, or going out and buying a disposable one, I used my cell phone.' He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles looked like white moons. 'Some of the pictures I took? They wound up on Crime & Punishment. It's a website and '

'I know what it is,' Darby said. 'How does this connect back to Nelson?'

'He was the first responding officer at the crime scene, and he saw me using my cell to take pictures. The following morning, I'd gone off to a budget meeting. I left my cell on my desk, maybe in my coat pocket. I can't remember. But I knew I had it when I went into the office that morning.

'When I came back from the meeting, I couldn't find my phone. A couple of people said they saw Nelson in my office right after I'd left. He didn't deny it he'd gone in there to drop off a report but he said he didn't know anything about my cell. The pictures were on the website the next day. Guess who got caught holding the s.h.i.t-end of the stick?'

'You have any proof he took your phone?' Darby asked.

'Who else could it have been? He was the only one who knew I'd taken those pictures on my cell, and I sure as h.e.l.l didn't do it.'

'Okay.'

'IAD cleared me. I agreed to take a poly. Pa.s.sed it with flying colours.'

Darby was surprised a station as small as Red Hill had their own Internal Affairs Department. 'And Nelson?'

'He refused.' Williams smiled in sour triumph. 'The reporter who posted the pictures wouldn't give up his source, naturally, and when IAD couldn't link the pictures back to either of us, the case hit a dead end. Nelson and I both got a five-day suspension without pay and a letter of reprimand in our jackets.'

Darby stared out the window, the hum of the car tyres against the road and the wind blasting through her window vibrating against her ears. The sky was blue and cloudless, the air comfortably cool, like early autumn; it was hard to believe that a major snowstorm would roll in later today. She wondered what progress Hoder was making on their plan.

'I'm telling you the truth,' Williams said.

Darby heard a lot of heat in his voice. She rolled her head to him and saw his anger rising and falling, searching for an appropriate target.

'I believe you,' she said.

'Really? 'Cause your expression says otherwise.'

'If you're looking for absolution for something, Ray, I'm not wearing the right collar.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Find someone else to be your whipping post.'

Williams's face burned, the skin as thin as paper, as if he'd been slapped. Then he sighed deeply, and the heat left his face and eyes.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I don't mean to take this out on you. When the subject of Teddy comes up, when he comes around here Red Hill's too small to have its own IAD, so any conduct and personnel problems get kicked to Brewster. Teddy personally spearheaded my investigation. He acted like a kid who had just got his favourite toy for Christmas. When I pa.s.sed the poly, the son of a b.i.t.c.h wouldn't let it go. He got off on ramming a two-by-four up my a.s.s on a daily basis. The guy missed his calling as a plantation overseer.'

'Forget Lancaster,' Darby said. 'Don't let him bait you, he's not worth it.'

Little did she know she was about to eat her own words.

38.

The Brewster County Coroner's Office serviced Red Hill and three other surrounding towns. Built during the Hoover administration, the old building contained a single autopsy suite that was nearly identical to just about every one Darby had visited over the course of her career: brick-red tile floors and grim white-painted walls; damp rubber mats arranged around an elevated steel surgical table, stainless-steel everywhere.

At 400 square feet, the autopsy room felt too small to accommodate her, Ray Williams and the coroner, Dr Felicia Gonzalez, a tiny woman with black hair and small, almost childlike fingers. She was slipping into a pair of fresh scrubs when they entered.

'Where should I set up?' Darby asked after the introductions were over.

Gonzalez opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. She eyed Darby's rolling forensics kit, then looked at Williams like he was a Martian who had suddenly materialized out of thin air.

'We're here for the Downes autopsies,' he said.

'We did those first thing this morning,' Gonzalez replied.

Darby felt the air rush out of her lungs. The room went out of focus for a moment and the only sounds she heard were the insect-like hum of the fluorescent tube lights and water dripping from a nearby faucet.

'Harry came to see me personally,' Gonzalez said, perplexed. 'He moved the whole schedule around for you, Ray.'

'For me?' Williams blinked like a bright light had suddenly and without warning exploded in his face.

'Didn't he tell you?'

Williams spoke slowly, as if each word were a red-hot coal he had to pick up with his bare hands. 'If he had told me, Felicia, do you think I'd be standing here right now with my d.i.c.k in my hand?'

The woman stiffened at the word 'd.i.c.k', hit with a sudden prudish streak. 'You don't have to use that type of lang'

'Who collected the evidence?'

'Who do you think? Brewster forensics, the same people who did the other victims.'

Williams scratched the corner of his eye, his face crimson. He kept swallowing, his jaw muscles bunching like walnuts.

Gonzalez waved her hands in defiant surrender. 'Don't take this out on me, Ray. You have an issue with Harry, take it up with him.'

'I plan on it.'

Then Williams pushed open the swinging door and bolted into the hallway.

Darby stared at the autopsy table and thought about the nameless and faceless forensics people from Brewster who had collected the victims' clothing and examined their bodies prior to the autopsy. She had no idea of their collective experience, or their level of commitment, or the type of equipment and chemicals they had used. And she had been denied the chance to look over everything herself; all she could think about was the possibility of some missed or overlooked piece of evidence, some key piece that had been washed down the drain at the base of the stainless-steel table.

Gonzalez got busy, dressing. When she spoke, her voice suddenly seemed loud in the cold room. 'I thought he'd been told. Ray.'