FOURTEEN
Jessie awoke to the sound of a barking dog.
Even then it took her a moment to remember Higgins.
When she opened her eyes, she saw Olivia’s cat, Cecil, sitting on the dresser straight ahead, staring at her with his one gold-speckled eye. “How did you get in here?”
Cecil meowed.
She threw off the covers, climbed out of bed, and walked into the main room, where she could see Olivia in the kitchen making a bag lunch for school.
“Good morning,” she said to Olivia as she watched the dog use his three good legs to scoot across the wood floor. Cecil had followed her from the bedroom. His long tail brushed across her calf before he jumped on top of the couch and stared the dog down. Higgins was too focused on Olivia to notice.
“Morning,” Olivia said. “I didn’t think you were ever going to wake up.”
“You should have woke me.”
“Bella is picking me up. And I knew you needed sleep after spending the night in jail.”
“Thanks,” Jessie said with a roll of her eyes, knowing she would never live it down.
Olivia scrunched up her nose. “I never asked you about being in jail. Was it horrible?”
“It smelled like body odor and bleach. I’ll leave it at that.” Jessie scratched her head as she focused her attention on the dog. “Is Higgins hungry?”
“No. I fed him and then took him outside to do his thing.”
“Can he walk?”
Olivia nodded. “I carried him down the stairs, but when I set him down on the patch of grass, he did pretty good keeping most of his weight on his three good legs. Will you be able to check on him during the day?”
Jessie stared at the dog. “Sure.” She glanced at the clock. “What can I do to help you get ready?”
“Can you give Higgins his pills?” Olivia asked before she disappeared inside her bedroom, where Jessie could hear the hamster wheel going round and round.
Jessie went to the kitchen and read the labels on the pills, then grabbed a piece of cheese from the refrigerator and walked back to the dog.
Higgins growled.
“Stop it, or I’ll change your name to Cujo.”
Another low rumble came from the dog’s throat.
“Do you want your pills or not?”
His ears perked up.
“That’s what I thought.” She wrapped the cheese around the biggest pill first, bent down on one knee, and held it toward the dog’s nose. He sniffed before drawing back his lip.
Jessie straightened. “Listen, Higgins. You’re in pain. I can see it in your eyes. You need to take these pills if you want to get better.”
The dog whimpered as he tried to get up on all fours.
Enough was enough. She knelt down and forced the cheese into his mouth.
It worked. He ate it.
“Good dog,” she said, surprised.
She repeated the process, stroking his back when he was done, ignoring his persistent growling. “You’re all bark and no bite.”
He whimpered.
“I know. I know.” Jessie sat on the floor next to him and continued to brush her fingers through his wiry, patchy fur. “We both had a rough day yesterday, didn’t we? The good news is you’ll feel better in thirty minutes when the medication sets in.”
Olivia came out of her room with her backpack, ready to go. Her face brightened when she saw Jessie petting Higgins. “He’s warming up to you.”
The dog growled.
“Oh, never mind.”
Jessie’s eyes narrowed. “Are you wearing makeup?”
“No.”
“We have a pact, remember? We always tell each other the truth.”
“It’s just a little mascara. What’s the big deal?”
A car honked.
“I’ve gotta go.”
Jessie frowned. Although she wasn’t Olivia’s mother, she thought of herself as one. Lunches and carpools, homework and discipline, tended to do that to a person. But lecturing Olivia about makeup . . . when had she become one of those mothers? Everyone wore makeup in high school. What harm could it do?
She thought of her sister then, and that was when it dawned on her. Olivia had helped fill the void in her heart after Sophie disappeared, and now she was scared to death—panicked, even—by the idea of Olivia growing up too fast. She wasn’t ready to let her go. And the worst part was, she might never be ready.
Colin had been at the lab talking to the people in forensics who had processed Erin Hayes’s abandoned car when he got the call about Natalie Bailey’s abduction.
As he walked up the path leading to the Bailey house, a two-story Victorian in Midtown, an officer lifted the yellow crime tape to make access easy for him.
The sun hit his back as he continued on to the wide-open front door. Inside, the house was crowded with technicians, who were busy collecting evidence and taking prints from doors and windows.
Gordon Douglas called his name from the living room.
He and Gordon had worked together for a number of years now. Gordon had given up his career as an urban sociologist after losing his brother to a habitual criminal. A good man, he had twelve years of field experience and multiple areas of expertise. His degree in sociology gave him a better understanding of criminal behavior and social influences on crime, making him a valuable asset.
Gordon met him halfway across the living room and then walked him back to where Mike Bailey, Natalie’s husband, sat.
Colin had talked to Gordon on the phone on the way over. He knew Gordon had completed the initial walk-through to see whether or not anything had been moved or disturbed. A video had been taken along with photographs. They would go over all that later.
The living room appeared neat and orderly, like a picture in a magazine. Beige walls, polished tables, no knickknacks. Clean and simple. Colin took a seat on the leather ottoman so he could talk to Bailey face-to-face. The man was clearly distraught. His eyes were bloodshot, his short brown hair disheveled. “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
Bailey shook his head.
“What time did you go to bed last night?”
“Around nine thirty, but Natalie was still reading a book on her Kindle when I fell asleep thirty minutes later.”
“Did you ever wake up during the night?”
“Yes. I woke up a little before one in the morning to go to the bathroom. She was in the bed next to me.”
“Are you sure?”
He blushed. “I’m positive. She snores. Her snoring was what woke me up.”
“And when did you finally notice she was missing?” Colin asked.
“I had a nightmare where I was being attacked by a pack of wolves and I was bit in the arm. Semiawake, I jerked my arm away and fell back to sleep. I didn’t wake up fully until six.” He lifted his shirtsleeve. “After I started looking around for Natalie, I began to feel woozy. My arm was sore, and I noticed a drop of dried blood right there.” He pointed to what could be a needle mark.
“We took a blood sample,” Gordon said.
Colin nodded, made a note. “And your wife was gone?”
“Yes, but that didn’t set off any alarms for me. She’s an early riser. I got out of bed, went to the bathroom, and then headed downstairs. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, but Natalie was nowhere to be found. When I saw her car in the garage, I panicked and rushed back upstairs. Everything was there—purse, car keys, wallet, and cell phone. I called her dad, who lives nearby. He hadn’t seen or talked to her in the past two days.”
“Had she made any calls during the night?”
“No. I checked her phone. No incoming calls, either.”
“She works?”
He nodded.
“What does she do?”
“She’s a psychotherapist. She does inpatient work at a local hospital.”
Colin made a note. “Has your wife had any trouble with anyone she’s been helping?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Would she tell you if there was a problem?”
“Absolutely,” he blurted as if the question offended him. “We share everything. I would know if she was upset or having problems at work.”
“Do you keep an extra key anywhere inside or outside of the house?”
“Yes. When we first moved in, Natalie put a key under the gnome in the planter box.”
Colin made notes. Getting in and out of the house without being noticed or leaving any trace evidence had similarities to the Heartless Killer’s MO. And yet it was way too early to make assumptions. One of the reasons the Heartless Killer had not been caught was that absolutely no one was safe. There was no connection to race, gender, or age that would indicate any one particular target. He’d taken people from their homes, bicyclists from the street, and kids from bus stops.
Colin looked up from his notepad and asked, “Is the planter box at the front of the house or the back?”
“Right outside the front door. I’ll show you.”
They followed him outside. The planter was filled with flowers.
Bailey picked up the gnome.
There was nothing there.
“It’s gone,” he said.