Criminal Investigation Division
Monday, October 24, Noon
As requested, Mark Hanover appeared at CID at noon. Lieutenant Owens decided to sit in. Bobbie had no problem with her second chairing the interview. She’d suggested Devine help Holt and Bauer with the long list of names from the All Kids Matter program. Every single one had to be contacted, if possible, and interviewed. Hopefully this interview would be more productive without Devine in the room to distract Hanover. The man seemed to get some sort of jollies from yanking Devine’s chain. He did the same to Bobbie, but, unlike her partner, she managed to keep her reactions to herself.
“Quite frankly, Lieutenant,” Hanover said, “I’m surprised the MPD would waste time harassing me. Shouldn’t you be more concerned with who took those poor girls and murdered three people?”
Owens smiled. “You may rest assured that we’re very concerned, Mr. Hanover. That’s why you’re here.”
Hanover gave her a nod as if to say “touché.”
“You and your father were instrumental in making the Life Church summer youth program come to life,” Bobbie said. “Thirty years later the two of you remain the largest benefactors of the church as well as its programs.”
“Is it a crime, Detective, to want to serve the community?” Hanover set his elbows on the interview table and steepled his fingers. “My family has a history of giving back. Perhaps if you did your homework you’d know this already.”
Bobbie smiled. The pressure was getting to the man. Where was his haughty sense of humor today? “Your support is commendable. I’m also confident you’re aware we’re interviewing many people associated with the church and the summer programs offered there. You shouldn’t feel singled out. In fact, you’ve gone out of your way to be cooperative until now. Is there a reason you’re suddenly taken aback by our questions?”
Bobbie had a feeling Nick was on to something. Someone might very well be trying to set Hanover up. But why? If the person Weller sent was framing Hanover, what did that make Hanover? An innocent bystander? I don’t think so.
“As you say, I have been cooperative. There’s nothing further I can add to your efforts.” He sat back in his chair. “I find this attention on my philanthropic work to be most harassing. I didn’t think it necessary to have my attorney present, but perhaps that was a hasty decision.”
“Is that why you wouldn’t return my calls yesterday?” Bobbie asked. “It was almost as if we had some sort of psychic connection going on until yesterday. As soon as I discovered your association with the youth camp you were unavailable.”
Hanover smiled. “I’m an international businessman, Detective. I have meetings all over the world. Thanks to your fine detective work I have to conduct all those meetings via teleconferencing. I believe I’ve been more than accommodating.”
Bobbie started to ask him what connection he had to the Rusty Fiddle but Owens spoke first. “Mr. Hanover, we appreciate your cooperation. If we have any additional questions we’ll let you know.”
They all stood and before Bobbie could think how to keep Hanover from walking out, the lieutenant had already ushered him through the door. When he was gone Owens turned back to her. “Keep an eye on him. Considering what you and Devine have told me, I don’t believe he’s being fully forthcoming.”
“I agree.” Bobbie shrugged. “I could have asked him a couple more questions.”
“He needs to believe we’re backing off.”
Bobbie nodded, understanding where the LT was going with her suggestion. “If he believes we’ve moved on he might grow careless.”
“And if it’s our attention he wants, he’ll find a way to regain it.”
Bobbie smiled. “Desperation breeds mistakes.”
“He’ll make one soon.” Owens studied her for a moment. “What does your friend Shade have to say about all this?”
That Devine had asked her the same thing just last evening gave Bobbie pause. She started to give her stock answer that she hadn’t seen Nick when Owens added, “This is between you and me, Bobbie. The chief doesn’t need to know.”
Surprised, Bobbie answered the question to the best of her knowledge. “Weller’s up to something. Nick believes all of this is a distraction. Hanover is likely nothing but a scapegoat. Someone’s using him to distract us.” They had discussed Hanover and his part in Weller’s plan again this morning. She doubted Hanover had a clue where this was headed much less the real reason he was even part of it.
Owens nodded. “I’ll talk to Agent Hadden. Put a bug in his ear.”
Before Bobbie could join the rest of the team, Owens touched her arm. “Be careful. If this killer was handpicked by Randolph Weller, we’re not looking at your typical hired gun.”
Bobbie was well aware of that unfortunate truth. “It’s been more than twenty-four hours since our killer made a move. Something’s coming.” She could feel it.
The downside was that they were nowhere near ready.
Owens hesitated and withdrew her cell from her belt. She stared at the screen and then at Bobbie. “I guess we spoke too soon. We have another young woman missing. Deana Venable.”
Damn. “I’ll grab Devine and head that way.”
Owens provided the address and Bobbie rounded up her partner. Somewhere between here and there she should get word to Nick.
Fairview Avenue
4:00 p.m.
Evidence techs had rolled up shortly after Bobbie and Devine arrived. En route Bobbie had called Holt with the bad news and then she’d called Liddell. The pastor confirmed that Deana Venable had attended the youth camp the year before last. As soon as she had that confirmation, Bobbie sent a text to Nick to let him know.
As deeply convinced as she was that Hanover was not the perp they were looking for, she was as certain as she could be that he knew the person behind the murders and the abductions. Was this some sort of game to him? Maybe a man who had everything as Hanover did was bored and in need of a thrill.
Too bad he apparently didn’t care that three lives were at stake.
Bobbie moved back into the living room where Deana’s roommate, Erin Nesmith, waited. She’d been interviewed by Devine already. Bobbie and Newt had long ago worked out a strategy for conducting interviews. One of them would go first and then the other would follow up. Whether it was the difference in technique, the time in between to think or the reaction to male versus female, the interviewee always gave a little more information the second time around.
“How you holding up, Erin?” Bobbie settled into the recliner next to the sofa where the roommate sat.
“I can’t believe this happened.” Erin shook her head, eyes glistening with renewed tears. “I should have been here.”
Erin had spent the weekend with her parents in Mobile. When she’d come home around noon today she’d found the front door unlocked and slightly ajar. Deana’s purse and phone were in the house. Her car was in the driveway. There was no indication of a struggle. Erin swore she hadn’t touched a thing other than her friend’s phone. She had called their mutual friends and Deana’s family and no one had seen or heard from her since the day before. Uniforms were canvassing the neighborhood but if this was the same perp, chances were no one saw anything.
“The person who took Deana plans very carefully,” Bobbie explained. “He knows how to get in and get out without notice. If you’d been here you might have ended up a victim.” Bobbie was beginning to think that Manning and the Parkers were murdered because of their connection to the missing women, not vice versa.
Erin searched Bobbie’s face. “Is she like the others?”
The warnings had gone wide. Young women who had attended the Life Church summer youth camp were to be on guard. Liddell wasn’t too happy about that part but she understood the MPD had an obligation to warn the public. Every donor, staff member and volunteer of the camp was being interviewed.
“We’ll operate under the assumption she is until we have reason to believe otherwise.”
“Is she going to die?” Erin scrubbed her hands over her face. “I can’t believe this. She’s planning her wedding. You have to find her.”
Deana was only twenty-one. She’d completed her undergraduate degree this year and was working on her MBA. Her fiancé had been in Huntsville on business for the past week. He was on his way back to Montgomery now. Deana was an adult and, with no signs of foul play, ordinarily Bobbie might suggest the woman had taken a break from her life. But, as a past participant of the same youth camp as Olson and Parker, she couldn’t afford to assume anything. Frankly, anytime a person was unaccounted for and had left their cell phone behind it was a good idea to be a little suspicious.
“We’re doing everything we can to find them,” Bobbie offered. A missing vulnerable adult alert had been issued. “We have reason to believe Deana as well as the others are still alive.”
Erin pressed a hand to her chest. “Thank you. I don’t think I could face her parents if you’d told me otherwise.”
“Did Deana ever mention anyone from her time at the Life Church summer youth camp?”
Erin shook her head. “I didn’t even know she’d attended the camp. She never talked about things like that. We moved in together a year ago and she’s been focused on school and her wedding most of that time.” She hugged herself. “I’m never getting married. It’s way too complicated. I told her they should go to the courthouse and do the deed and then tell their parents.”
Bobbie remembered feeling that way. But her aunt and uncle had insisted on a wedding. Not to mention James’s mother would have had a stroke if they’d skipped out on the big family plan. It felt like forever ago that they’d been planning their wedding.
Marrying her had cost James everything.
Bobbie pushed away the haunting memories. At least there was no body at this scene. That was something.
What in the world was this guy doing with all these hostages?
Criminal Investigation Division
7:30 p.m.
Holt added the photo of Deana Venable to the case board. As Bobbie predicted they now had two case boards. The sheer number of POIs and potential victims had taken on a life of its own. They had cross-checked all victims and determined the single common thread was the summer youth camp. The missing women were very different. Deana was about to start grad school. Vanessa was a college student and fitness coach. And then there was Fern, a high school student. Ages varied as much as five years and physical descriptions were all over the place. Deana was short and a little on the heavy side while Vanessa was tall and thin. The perp appeared to be selecting victims based solely on their attendance at the summer youth camp. The only upside so far was that there was no new homicide victim. Owens was still at the joint task-force briefing. Bobbie hoped the FBI or the Sheriff’s Department had found something because MPD sure as hell hadn’t found a damned thing to help find those women.
Bauer and Devine were interviewing the staff at the restaurant where Deana had dined with friends last night. Bobbie had returned to help Holt cover the rest of the names on the list from Liddell.
“Thank God this is the last one,” Holt grumbled.
They had spent hours calling each name on the numerous lists to establish that the camp participant was safe and to warn her to be careful. Eventually they would interview each one face-to-face. The effort wasn’t exactly going to get them any closer to the killer but the work had to be done. As with the previous two scenes, the perp had left no evidence and so far no one had gotten a glimpse of him except Sage Parker and maybe the Chastain girl. The few hits they’d gotten on the sketch had turned out to be dead ends.
Bobbie made the call to the first name on the final list. While she spoke with the woman on the other end, she watched Holt. The sergeant was on edge. Tired. Frustrated. They all were, but they didn’t all have a new baby at home. Bobbie’s heart squeezed at the memory of feeling so damned guilty for missing all the new things her son was doing while she worked long hours. Every day it seemed he had learned something new and grown just a little bit more. And most days during that final month they’d had together she’d felt like a zombie from lack of sleep.
Bobbie moved on to the next name on the list. She wondered if she would ever have a family again.
Her fingers stilled on the phone.
Why in the world would such a thought even cross her mind? The last thing she wanted was to put herself in the position to be hurt that badly ever again. Besides, she could never replace the family she’d had with another one. It wasn’t possible. She would spend the rest of her life alone.
She closed out the thoughts and made the calls. Call after call to women who could be the next victim of a serial killer they knew absolutely nothing about and whose next murder could happen anytime, anywhere.
Gardendale Drive
11:00 p.m.
Bobbie arrived home and a minute later Nick showed up. It didn’t take much to deduce he was following her. She almost laughed at the thought. There were around three hundred women out there they needed to be watching but, this time, Bobbie wasn’t one of them.
When they’d greeted D-Boy and stood awkwardly in her kitchen for about two minutes, Nick finally spoke. “It’s Hanover we need to watch.”
Bobbie’s heart skipped about two beats. “I thought we agreed he wasn’t our killer.”
“He’s not, but our killer is connected to him. The two appear to be playing each other or feeding off each other.”
“Jesus.” She shuddered. “I toyed with a similar conclusion today. Owens and I discussed it. So, have you been watching him?” Every time she learned something new about Hanover, it was one more mark against him. What she really wanted was to get him in a room and make him tell the truth about the missing women and about her mother, but there were laws against that sort of thing.
“I’m watching someone close to him,” Nick said. “Hanover is the true pawn, like we thought. I’m not sure he realizes what a dangerous game he’s playing.”
Bobbie crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Nick expectantly. “Are you going to tell me who that someone is?”
He held her gaze for a long moment before he answered. “Not yet.”
When she would have launched a protest, he continued, “If these women die it’s on me. I can’t allow that to happen. One wrong move or word could tip the scales in the wrong direction.”
As much as she resented the idea that he wouldn’t trust her with whatever he had learned, she understood to some degree his need for caution. Two months ago she had been in his shoes. Each murder the Storyteller committed was one more innocent victim taken to get to her. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Keep looking. You’re closer than you know.”
They stood there in silence, the tension expanding between them. There was so much Bobbie wanted to say to him, to ask him. The urge to touch him came fast and hard. She fisted her fingers into her palms and held her breath to slow her heart. His gaze dropped to her mouth and her foolish heart stumbled.
“I should,” she blurted, “I should shower and get some sleep.”
He nodded and looked away.
Bobbie hurried through her shower and closed herself in her room. Staying in this small house with him night after night was growing increasingly difficult. The tension had been building exponentially since that kiss night before last. She dried her hair, wishing the blow-dryer would drown out the thoughts whirling in her head.
She stared at herself in the mirror over her dresser. At first glance she still looked like the Bobbie she had always been. Her hair was the same. There were a few more lines bracketing her eyes. The thin scar around her neck wasn’t as prominent as it once was. But beneath the tee and lounge pants she wore there was a map of the agony she had suffered. Hideous scars that spoke of a vicious serial killer. The slight limp and the dull ache that burrowed deep into the bones of her right leg reminded her every day. Unbearable words were tattooed on her back. All of it told the story of pure evil. The scars on her wrists that underscored the defeat she had suffered to anyone who looked.
Yet none of it told the whole story. The true loss could no longer be seen. James and Jamie were gone. Only her memories of them remained.
Bobbie closed her eyes and thought of the man down the hall. She wanted to touch him and to know him...completely.
When this case was over he would go. Months or years could pass before she heard from him again. Maybe she never would. Her shrink would tell her that a man like Nick Shade had long ago turned off his ability to feel. They could never share what she and James had shared. All they had was this moment and it was filled with uncertainty and pain...with fear and death.
She didn’t need Nick Shade and he didn’t need her.
The only thing either of them really needed was to find this killer before he finished what he’d come to Montgomery to do.
Bobbie opened her eyes. It was true. That was the one unequivocal connection they shared—the one true mutual need. To find the bad guy and save those young women and head off any potential danger Nick might face before this was done.
But it wasn’t all she wanted.
I want more.
She burst out of her room before she lost her courage. Nick was just stepping out of the bathroom. His hair was damp. He wore nothing but jeans and they didn’t cover nearly enough to prevent her from staring at his body.
He asked, “Is something wrong?”
Before she could summon the right words, she walked straight up to him. “Yes.” She would not lose her nerve now. “We need to do something about this...whatever it is between us. It’s in the way. We need to...clear the air.”
“What is it that you think we need to do?”
That his face—his voice—remained completely impassive made her want to scream. “I want you to touch me.” She took his hand and placed it on her breast. “I want you to—”
“Fuck you,” he said, his voice hard now. “Is that what you want?”
Fury whipped through her. He wants to make you angry, Bobbie. He wants you to back off. “No.” She grabbed his face and went up on tiptoe, putting her lips close to his. “I want to fuck you.”
She kissed him. Long and deep. She smoothed her hands over his chest, her body trembling at the feel of his. He held stone still but she didn’t care. She locked her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. Nothing he could say or do would change her mind.
Her fingers delved into his damp hair and he stopped resisting and carried her to her bedroom. She reached for the switch to turn off the light. He stopped her. “We do this in the light. Not in the dark.”
She was scarred and damaged. He knew this. Her breasts, her legs, all marked by the sadistic bastard who had devastated her life. Why would he want to see that ugliness? Was this another ploy to deter her?
She didn’t care. She wasn’t stopping now.
Her feet somehow found the floor and his fingers found the hem of her tee. He pulled it up and over her head. Her hair fell over her shoulders, brushing skin that was already on fire. He tossed the garment aside and reached for the waistband of her lounge pants. With painstaking slowness he peeled away the final layers covering her. For one long moment, he simply stared at her as if he wanted to memorize every inch of her, every hideous mark. Then he leaned down and kissed the jagged scar on her breast. Bobbie closed her eyes and gave herself completely over to him.
One by one he kissed each blemish, each place evil had touched and when he finally filled her, she came apart completely.