“Did either of them see him drive away?”
“No. Mr. Chitter said it took him a minute to understand why Victor ran out of his store like ‘a pair of hedge shears were after his tail feathers’—again I’m quoting. Then he looked at the TV and saw Victor’s photo and that he was wanted for questioning in a local murder. By the time he got his courage up and went outside, Victor was gone. Do you think Victor went back to the park after Norm recognized him?”
“If he did, he didn’t stay long,” Sherlock said. She looked thoughtful. “If I were Victor, I’d dump the green Kia, since I’d have to assume I’d been seen in it, and find myself another car. He’s got to be scared now, probably can’t understand how we already know who he is.”
Lucy said, “Maybe Victor hightailed it to another state park?”
Savich smiled at Lucy. “That’s a good guess. If I were in his shoes, I’d get out of Maryland fast. Maybe Pennsylvania or Virginia.”
“Or he could drive back to Winnett, North Carolina,” Lucy said, “where he lived before you and Sherlock finally brought him and Lissy down.”
Savich said, “Let’s get an APB out on the green Kia in Maryland, Virginia, and Pennsylvania. The Kia’s probably stolen, too.”
Sherlock said thoughtfully, “I’m hoping Victor will be too frantic to get out of the area to bother dumping the Kia now. Maybe Virginia or Pennsylvania, if he makes it that far.”
Lucy said, “You think there’s a girl with him?”
Savich said, his voice expressionless, “I wish I knew.” He looked down at his watch. “I’ve got a call to make.” And he walked into his office.
Sherlock said to Lucy, “We’re going to go out to Quantico soon, see Dr. Thomas. Maybe he’s got something definitive to tell us about the bones they found in Lake Massey.” She drew in a deep breath. “And we need to speak to Dr. Haymes. He called. He’s finished Octavia Ryan’s autopsy.”
Lucy said, “Two months ago I worked with Octavia on the Wiliker case, you remember, the two-man team who killed those young women?”
“Yes, I remember the case, but I never met Octavia. Her funeral is on Tuesday, in Falls Church. Did you know she was seeing Agent Sala Porto?”
“Sure, she told me last week in the women’s room she and Sala were going someplace to de-stress. Then she told me she was thinking about going back with her ex-husband, said he finally might be getting his head on straight. Her ex was really putting the moves on her. I think she was going back.”
“But what about Sala?”
“She said she and Sala were good friends, with benefits, they understood each other, enjoyed each other.” Lucy shook her head, swiped the tears away. “Now she’s dead and she’ll never have a chance to decide what to do—about anything. And what Victor Nesser had planned for Sala? Leave him to die in that closet? Where is Sala?”
“He stayed in Willicott to work with the local police chief. Everyone’s thinking a Serial’s been active in that area for a long time now, using Lake Massey as a body dump. We have no reason to think those bodies are connected with Octavia, but we don’t know for sure.”
Lucy laced her fingers over her stomach. “Why are some people evil?”
No answer to that question. Sherlock looked down at Lucy’s fingers on her belly. “Lucy, you look different. You’re all glowy. Oh my, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?”
Lucy gave her a crazed smile. “Yes, nearly three months. I was thinking about unfastening my jeans button. I was going to announce it next week, but now you know.”
Sherlock gave her a big hug. “This is wonderful. What does your good-for-nothing off-fishing husband have to say?”
“Coop’s strutting around the house, a huge grin on his face, talking about teaching his kid to fly-fish and skateboard. I gotta say, though, he does hold my hair out of my face when I’m puking in the toilet, so that’s gotta prove I married a stand-up guy.” Lucy tapped her pen on her desktop. “I hate this, Sherlock. Not only you and Dillon in danger from this Nesser, but Sean, too.”
What could she say? Sherlock only nodded, patted Lucy’s shoulder, and joined Dillon at the door of the CAU to walk down the empty hallway to the elevators.
“Lucy’s pregnant. Coop holds her head when she hurls, so all is good in Cooperland. Beginnings and endings, life goes on. It’s really quite wonderful.” She stopped and looked up at him. “Don’t you think?”
Savich cocked his head at her, gave her a quick kiss, and punched the elevator button. “I’m happy for them. I still can’t get over Victor and that candy bar in McGurk’s tent. I meant to tell you, Sean knew the man with the candy bar was bad. The kid doesn’t miss much.”
“No.” She grabbed him when the elevator doors closed and held on tight. “We have to keep him safe, Dillon.”
He kissed her hair and held her until the doors opened onto the lobby.
24
* * *
JEFFERSON DORMITORY
FORENSIC ANTHROPOLOGY LAB
QUANTICO, VIRGINIA
SUNDAY
Dr. Thomas stood beside a long stainless steel table covered with rows of matching bones neatly lined up. The next table held smaller bones, all of them still in a jumble. They reminded Savich of the wall of bones in the catacombs beneath St. Stephen’s Cathedral in Vienna. Dr. Thomas waved Savich and Sherlock over, pointed down at the line of bones. “I’ve found sixteen right tibias so far, one obviously from a young adult, not yet fully grown, and one very long tibia, so a very tall man, about six foot six, I’d say. There are both men and women in this group of sixteen. There aren’t enough skulls to attach to all these bones, so obviously there must be more at the bottom of the lake. Or in another lake,” he added. “You never know what will and what won’t show up. Over on that tarp are the bones they found this morning in Lake Massey. I’ll get to them when I can, maybe tomorrow. My wife threatened this morning at breakfast to break my favorite antique turntable if I don’t get home by three o’clock today.”
They looked up when Sala Porto and Chief Ty Christie knocked on the open door. Dr. Thomas called out, “Come in, come in, we’re just getting started.” After introducing Ty to Dr. Thomas, Sala said, “Sorry we’re late, ran into Beltway traffic. On a Sunday, go figure.”
“Not a problem,” Dr. Thomas said. “I was telling Savich and Sherlock the early count is sixteen so far, not including the bones you brought up this morning. None of the skeletal remains are nearly complete, of course, and there aren’t enough skulls. All I can say with certainty thus far is that the bones I have here, as I said, are from a minimum of sixteen people, all but one of them adults. I haven’t found any perimortem insults, but several orthopedic screws, two hips, two knees, which, unfortunately won’t help me identify them. The half a dozen skulls have very few teeth, not enough to match with dental records.
“I’ve put aside the manufactured items—the few shoes, belts, remnants of clothing. We can probably identify some of the manufacturers, the range of dates those items were sold, but there’s nothing unusual there. No jewelry or identification of any kind. Truth is, I have very little for you so far. Some of these bones could have been in the lake for as little as five years, some for decades.”