CHAPTER FIVE
Compassion for Tinsley filled Korine. She couldn’t imagine living every day terrified that a sadistic man like the unsub who’d held the young woman hostage might return to hurt her again.
No doubt Hatcher harbored guilt over that.
The fact that Hatcher’s deceased wife and this woman had been friends complicated matters more. If Tinsley knew about Korine’s night with Hatcher, she probably wouldn’t want to talk to her either.
Tinsley stepped aside, and although she’d said she didn’t want to talk to Hatcher, she allowed them both entry.
Korine scanned the foyer—a distressed white hutch held shoes, umbrellas, beach bags, and sun hats, all signs of home and a relaxing getaway.
Apparently, though, the woman never left the house to enjoy that ocean or the sand and sun and beach.
She and Hatcher followed Tinsley to a small den that looked cozy and quaint. A seashell lamp and photos of the beach, sea turtles, crabs, and the sunset added to the beach theme. A wall above her desk held sketches of the trees on the island that had been hand carved with images of soldiers who’d died in the area.
At odds with the serene blue-and-white decor, built-in shelves held dozens of books and magazines on the historic graveyards, ghosts, and hauntings in Savannah. Another book featured stories about the Day of the Dead celebrated in Mexico. After Tinsley’s abduction, the Feds had speculated that the Skull had adopted his disguise from the sugar skulls used in the Day of the Dead traditions. Although with the island’s famous Skull’s Crossing, where human skulls had been found mired in the marshland years ago, and three more skulls found recently, it was possible that the unsub had used the skull image because of that case.
Or that the unsub might have killed the victims, dumped their bodies in the ocean, and the skulls had floated to the surface after Hurricane Matthew.
A pair of binoculars sat on a table by the window that overlooked the cove, as if perched there for quick use. A picture window also overlooked the ocean, although sheers were drawn, blocking the view.
Tinsley’s way of keeping anyone from seeing into her private world from which she kept everyone locked out.
The den adjoined a kitchen with a breakfast bar and island, providing an open-concept design.
A parakeet was perched in a birdcage in the corner. The bird was so motionless and quiet that it almost didn’t look real. The door to the cage stood ajar, but the bird remained inside.
Tinsley reached for a china cup filled with what Korine guessed was tea and took a sip as she sank onto the sofa.
The cup and saucer rattled in her hands as she set it back on the wicker coffee table. “So what I saw was real?”
“I’m afraid so,” Korine said. “Tell us exactly what happened. Everything you saw. What you heard.”
Tinsley wrapped her arms around her waist as if she needed to hold herself together. A petite blonde with bangs framing enormous violet-blue eyes, she was as beautiful and as delicate as one of the sea-glass treasures one might find washed up on the shore after the storm. Yet she was also frail, with dark circles shadowing her haunted eyes.
“I was on the computer when I heard a noise,” Tinsley said. “I checked all the windows and doors, then looked outside and saw a figure dragging something along the dock.”
“Could you tell if it was a man or a woman?” Korine asked.
She shook her head. “Not really, the sun had already set. It was too dark.”
“Did he come from the street?” Hatcher asked.
Tinsley massaged her temple with long, slender fingers. “I don’t know.”
Korine offered her an encouraging smile. “Did you hear anything? A car? A boat maybe?”
“I told you I don’t know. I was on the computer and listening to music when I heard the sound.” She reached for the tea again with hands that trembled.
“Where exactly was the figure when you saw him?” Korine asked. “Near the entrance to the dock or the cul-de-sac?”
“He was just there,” Tinsley cried. “I can’t tell you anything else.”
Korine squeezed Tinsley’s arm. “I understand this is difficult, especially after all you’ve been through. It was brave of you to call the police.”
Tinsley’s face blanched. “You know who I am?” Then she made a sardonic sound. “Of course you do. I’m famous, aren’t I?”
Korine understood the anguish in the young woman’s voice. As a child, she’d hated when people recognized her from the news stories about her father’s murder. “I study crimes. That’s how I recognized the victim. His name is Judge Lester Wadsworth. He ruled over the—”
“River Street Rapist trial,” Tinsley said, her voice shocked.
“That’s right,” Korine said. “Did you follow the trial?”
Tinsley clamped her teeth over her bottom lip. “I watch the news. I keep hoping that . . .”
“That the man who took you will be found,” Hatcher filled in.
Tinsley gave Hatcher a wary look but nodded.
“Is there anything about the figure you saw outside that seemed familiar?” Korine asked, steering them back to this case. “Anything that stood out?”
Tinsley rubbed her temple again, her eyes darting around nervously. “Not that I recall.”
Korine hated to pressure her, but sometimes witnesses forgot details until they were pushed to remember. “Did he have a limp? Was he short? Tall? Heavy?”
“I don’t know, it was too far away to tell,” Tinsley said.
Korine offered her a sympathetic smile. “I understand you don’t want to come to the station, but we could bring mug shots here for you to look at.”
Tinsley lurched up and motioned to the door. “I told you I didn’t see his face. And I don’t want to look at any mug shots. Now please leave.”
Korine glanced at Hatcher, who shrugged. She slipped a business card onto the coffee table. “All right, but my work and private number are on there. Call me if you think of anything, or if . . . you just want to talk.”
Tinsley’s gaze met hers, the pain and fear so deep that it nearly stole Korine’s breath.
Tinsley rushed them to the door, a desperate fear in her jittery movements. Although the parakeet remained inside the cage, it had hopped to the edge near the open door, feathers ruffled.
“We’ll find him,” Hatcher said as he and Korine stepped onto the porch.
Tinsley’s only response was to slam the door in their faces. The sound of half a dozen locks being clicked and shifted echoed from the inside.