CHAPTER TWELVE

The next morning, Nate rolled out of bed long before the sun came up. It had been a sleepless night for him even with Olivia dozing peacefully on his chest, something that normally brought him a feeling of complete contentedness. He knew that if Olivia had seen what he had seen at Tim’s house, she would be just as wired as Nate was.

He sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, struggling to push away images that no one should ever see.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” Olivia’s hand was warm against his back.

“Nothing, Liv. Go back to sleep.” He turned to smile at her, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate. It had been easier yesterday, first preoccupied with the crime scene and later with Olivia’s family.

She sat up abruptly, bedding falling away and revealing Nate’s old Cubs t-shirt that he’d had since college. Olivia was always stealing his shirts and they always looked better on her. For just a second, he pictured what that shirt would look like stretched over a growing baby bump and he was finally able to smile.

“You never told me what you found at Tim’s place,” Olivia said, sliding up behind him.

She put her arms around him and rested her chin on his shoulder, her lips just inches from his ear. Her long hair fell over his bare chest, ticking his skin in a pleasant way. It was almost impossible to believe that they had only been sharing intimate moments like this for less than a year. Olivia was so much a part of Nate that it felt like he had always been in love with her.

“There’s a reason for that,” Nate said. He stared blankly ahead at the wall, wishing that he could make his brain erase what he had seen. “Let’s just say, Tim wasn’t an innocent victim.”

“There were other girls?” Olivia guessed.

“Dozens.” Nate closed his eyes. “We found pictures and videos all over the house. Some were older, from maybe 15 years ago. But a lot of them were dated more recently.”

Olivia sucked in a sharp breath. “Did you see Rosie?”

“Yes, I think so.” Nate only knew Rosie from the photos that Olivia had shared. The ones in Tim’s house had often been blurry and weren’t focused on the girls’ faces, but Nate was almost certain that he had seen Olivia’s sister in the photos. “I didn’t look at all of them. I couldn’t.”

“Did you find any photos linking him to the women in Chicago?” Olivia’s arms tightened around him, grounding him in that bed even as his mind had wandered back to the crime scenes.

“Not from what I could see. I sent the photos to be run through facial recognition software. We should know more later today.” Nate wondered just how many names would be on that list.

The photos would first be checked against and cold cases of murder victims or missing persons. Then they would be checked against known runaways or assault victims. Chances were good that most of the girls had suffered in silence, allowing Tim to continue violating other girls for over a decade.

Olivia’s breath warmed his check as she sighed. “If Rosie would have come forward back then, all those girls would’ve been saved.”

“You can’t think of it like that, Liv. This wasn’t Rosie’s fault. She was just a young girl being preyed upon by a rapist jerk.” Nate had built a career locking up men like Tim. He knew that they specifically chose victims that wouldn’t speak out. “It’s a good thing he’s already dead because after what I saw… I would happily kill him myself.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Olivia said confidently. She pressed her lips against his shoulder. “You are a better man than that, Nathaniel Tucker.”

Sometimes Nate wondered if that was true. He had almost always been able to keep his emotions under control but when it came to Olivia, there were no guarantees. Just seeing her talking to Tanner in the gas station had twisted his insides into a knot. Nate had never been a jealous guy and he was still getting used to the feeling.

“Come on. Let’s go for a run,” he said, patting her leg. “We could both use a little stress relief.”

“A run?” Olivia said doubtfully. “That’s really more of a Nate thing.”

“Okay, we’ll make it a walk instead. Let’s just get some fresh air.” He didn’t want to tell Olivia that he was afraid to leave her home alone for even just a half hour.

Olivia groaned. “Fine. I’ll do this for you, but I want to go on record saying that I can think of a much better stress relief option that doesn’t require either of us to leave this bed.”

An hour later, they finally made it outside. It was too late for a walk now, but Nate was okay with their decision to stay in bed. Olivia had been right about the stress relief. He felt remarkably more relaxed as he parked his car at the station.

“I know it’s not possible, but that was so good I’m pretty sure you knocked me up all over again,” Olivia whispered in his ear as they walked toward his desk.

Nate could feel a flush rising up his neck. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Thompson. We’ve got a job to do.”

Vince greeted them with a big wave as he flagged them to his computer. “We got hits on the pictures you found in Mercy. You’re not going to believe this.”

Nate leaned over Vince’s shoulder and scanned the list. “I only recognize Rosie.”

“Wait for page two,” Vince advised.

Nate and Olivia saw it at the same time. Nate sucked in a sharp breath while Olivia let out a gasp. “Emily Allen,” Nate said with a disbelieving shake of his head.

“What does this mean?” Olivia wondered, saying exactly what Nate was thinking.

“I think maybe we should just asked her,” Vince said.

When Emily was found and rushed to the hospital, her damaged throat had left her unable to speak. She had managed to scribble a few answers to Nate’s questions, but for the most part they still had no idea what had happened to her. Unless she had made a miraculous recovery, it was likely they still wouldn’t get much information from her. Still, Nate couldn’t think of a better way to get the answers they needed.

Olivia waited in the hall while Nate and Vince entered Emily’s hospital room. She had been moved out of intensive care and was in a private room that was being guarded by police around the clock. Whether she was a victim or accomplice of the killer, Nate was going to make sure Emily didn’t disappear from her hospital room.

Nate was surprised to find her sitting up in bed. Her throat was still heavily bandaged, but she had color in her cheeks and her eyes were wide and alert.

“She’s still not able to talk,” the nurse said, eyeing them skeptically. “Is this really necessary?”

“It is,” Nate said bluntly. He noticed a notepad and pen near Emily’s hand. “Can she write?”

“Yes. That’s how she’s been communicating with us. But you should know that she’s on a lot of pain medication and she gets tired quickly.” The nurse finished placing the new IV bag on the hook near the bed and turned to leave. “Please don’t stay long. She needs her rest.”

“We’ll do this as efficiently as possible,” Vince promised. It was a better response that anything Nate would have said. At this point, he didn’t care if Emily was tired or not. She needed to answer some important questions.

“Emily. My name is Detective Tucker and this is Detective Monroe. We’re here to ask you some questions about your attack. Do you feel well enough to help us out?” Nate was faking his concern for her well-being. He was more convinced than ever that she wasn’t a helpless victim.

Emily nodded carefully and picked up the pen. She only glanced briefly at Nate and then turned her attention to Vince. That was an uncommon occurrence. Though Nate hated to admit it, he knew that he was an attractive man and most women couldn’t help but notice. It was rare for him to not be the focus of attention.

If Vince noticed, he didn’t let it show. “Emily, do you remember who attacked you?”

No, she wrote.

“You didn’t see whomever was in your apartment?”

Not clearly.

“This person, the person that attacked you, were they already in your apartment or did you let them in?” Nate said.

Didn’t let them in.

“What do you remember about what happened?” Vince said.

Emily took her time writing her answer. She was either carefully choosing her words, or she was having trouble writing them down. When she was done, Vince and Nate read her response together.

I came into the apartment and someone jumped me from behind. I fought back, but he was bigger. He shoved me down and came at me with the knife. I tried to stop him. After he cut my throat, he laughed.

“You saw him then? What do you remember about him?” Nate wasn’t sure if he believed any of Emily’s story, but there was no denying that she had suffered a severe injury to her throat. It wasn’t the type of wound that would be self-inflicted unless the person was hoping to die. It was a miracle that Emily hadn’t bled to death.

Tall. Black. Bald. Big- 250lbs. Thirties.

It was the exact answer that Nate would expect from someone that was lying about their attacker. The description was generic enough that it would match thousands of people in Chicago. Nate wasn’t in the mood to play games.

“Emily, do you know a man named Tim McCaffery?”

Her shock was undeniable. Not only did she know Tim, she had not expected Nate to make the connection between them. Nate tried not to be offended by her lack of faith in his abilities.

He was my tennis coach.

“He’s dead,” Nate said bluntly, hoping for a reaction. “Murdered.”

Emily’s eyes widened, but she lacked any real emotion in her response. It didn’t take a behavioral psychologist like Olivia to see that this woman was faking her surprised reaction.

Why? Who did it?

Vince leaned forward. “We were hoping you might be able to help us answer those questions. When was the last time you saw Tim?”

High school.

“Had you ever seen him outside of tennis? Socially maybe?” Vince asked casually. He was better at playing coy than Nate was.

Only around town occasionally. Mercy is small.

“I know all about Mercy,” Nate said. “And I know all about Tim. For instance, I know you didn’t just have an instructor/student relationship with him. We found the pictures in his home.”

Her face froze.

“We found you in the pictures.” Nate pushed back his suit jacket to put his hand in his pocket. It was a move that he knew highlighted the gun holstered at his hip. “How old were you when it started?”

12.

There was no hesitation in her writing.

Nate quickly did the math in his head. Emily was six years younger than Rosie Thompson. Rosie died when she was 18. That meant that Emily had likely been Tim’s replacement for Rosie.

“Did you ever tall anyone about Tim?”

No.

“Did you know Rosie Thompson?”

A slight nod of Emily’s head.

“Did you know about her and Tim?” Nate could see the pieces of the puzzle beginning to fit together. If Emily knew about Rosie and Tim, she might blame Rosie for what had happened to her as a girl. She might also blame Olivia.

Not until later. I thought they were dating. I didn’t realize…

Her hand dropped away before she finished the thought. For just a second, Nate felt sorry for Emily. If she had been twelve when Tim started preying on her, it was understandable that she would have some serious issues. But that didn’t excuse anything she might have done in the last few months.

“Did you know Olivia Thompson?” Nate said as evenly as possible.

No.

The reply came to swiftly, like she had been anticipating the question.

Did Tim hurt her, too?

“No,” Nate said, certain that he had gotten as much information from Emily as he was going to get. She didn’t know they had found the weapons in her apartment. She didn’t know she was a suspect. “One last question. Do you have any idea who might have killed Tim?”

She wrote her answer after just a small pause. Probably one of the girls in the pictures.