She looked at the floor, her chin quivering. She took hold of the necklace and rubbed the stone.
“What’s the matter with you?” I asked. I stopped myself, gathered my thoughts. “Caitlin, I know this is confusing for you. I know that after what’s happened, you might be confused about your feelings, especially your feelings for this man. It’s part of what you’ve been through, but you need to start getting through that. This man . . . he needs to go to jail.”
“They’re not going to hurt him, are they? Tell me you won’t let them hurt him.”
She turned away and flopped back onto the bed, burying her face in the covers so I couldn’t see her. It sounded like she was crying.
Chapter Thirty-six
Ryan looked more tired than usual when he showed up at our door. He wore a polo shirt, tan pants, and no jacket despite the cool temperature. He didn’t come inside, but instead motioned the two of us out onto the porch.
When we were all seated, Ryan started talking.
“I imagine you want to be brought up to speed as soon as possible.” He flipped open the small notebook. “Yesterday, just before five a.m., the fire department responded to a call for a house fire out on Smith Springs Road. When they arrived, they found the house engulfed and beyond saving. A neighbor had seen the flames and called it in, but no one was certain if anyone was home at the time. It’s still too hot to do a thorough search of the house, but the preliminary investigation hasn’t revealed any evidence of human remains yet. Records indicate that the house belongs to a John Colter. Does that name mean anything to either of you?”
“Is that the man?” I asked. “Is that his name?”
“Does the name mean anything to either of you?” Ryan asked.
Abby shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Tom?”
I scanned through every student name I could remember, every coworker, every maintenance person who ever passed through school or our home. “I don’t think I know him.”
Ryan went on as though I hadn’t spoken. “The preliminary investigation shows that the cause of the fire was arson. A pretty amateur job. Whoever set the fire didn’t make much of an attempt to cover their tracks. They simply poured gasoline over everything, and investigators even found the melted plastic gas cans in the debris. Initially, we thought it looked like insurance fraud of some kind.”
“Jesus,” I said.
“They also found something else in the basement of the home.”
“Do we want to know?” Abby asked, more to herself than to us.
“They found a room. At first, it looked to be a bedroom, something created after the home was built. It didn’t appear to be part of the original structure. The door to this room was heavily fortified. Several different locks as well as some sort of reinforced steel sheeting.”
I stared at the sky. It was perfectly blue like a robin’s egg. I was numb.
“It looked like it was meant to keep someone locked up.”
“You think . . .” Abby left her thought unfinished.
“Like I said, it’s going to take some time before they can complete a more thorough examination of the house, especially the basement. Given the nature of the fire damage, it seems unlikely we’ll be able to find any definitive proof that any individual, Caitlin or otherwise, was ever in that basement room. It seems possible the fire was set for that very reason. To obscure evidence.”
“Maybe he didn’t want the police to know he held Tracy Fairlawn there as well,” I said.
“Excuse me?” Ryan said.
“Tracy.” I looked at Abby. “You know, the girl from the strip club?”
“Why are you bringing her up?” Abby asked.
“Maybe Detective Ryan should tell us,” I said.
“I don’t think this is relevant, Tom,” he said.
I turned back to Abby. “Tracy was held captive by a man for six months about five years ago. He took her off the street and brought her to a house. She didn’t know where. He held here there. He raped her repeatedly. She managed to get away, and then she had a baby.”
Abby looked stricken. “Are you going to tell me there’s a connection?”
“We don’t know—” Ryan said.
“She says it’s the same man.” I kept my eyes on Abby, boring in. “The man she saw in the strip club with Caitlin was the man who took her and held her and raped her. The same man. Detective Ryan here just declined to share that information with us.”
Ryan stiffened. “Where are you hearing these things, Tom?”
“I have my sources, too.”
“Well, I came here because I’d like to talk to Caitlin,” Ryan said. “And I’d like to be able to talk to her alone.”
“Shouldn’t we be there?” Abby asked. “Someone to look out for her.”
“Our attorney?” I said.
“Why would she need an attorney?” Abby asked.
“Caitlin isn’t guaranteed access to a lawyer during questioning,” Ryan said. “We may allow her to have one present, as a courtesy. Some kind of advocate. I can decide on that—”