“He throws the kid down. He’s not really interested in the kid. He is interested in making it look like a psycho’s busy in town. Okay, his victims are dead. He has a chopping block on the old altar and he left his weapons there in advance. He cuts off the heads—kind of a clumsy job, according to the coroner. He’s never beheaded anyone before. But he gets the heads off. Now here’s the thing. He had to know about the mausoleums here as well as the vaults.”
“His next step would’ve been to get the bodies up to the mausoleum,” Aidan put in. “He would’ve been counting on the darkness.”
“That’s a little risky,” Jimmy said, “because—over at Sleepy Hollow Cemetery—lantern tours could be going on as late as midnight. But, then again, I’ve taken that tour and if you’re not close to the lantern light, it’s still dark as all hell. Maybe he enjoys the risk. Anyway, the bodies first. Then he’s practically across the street from the Headless Horseman restaurant. He makes sure he gets Richard Highsmith’s head where he wants it. By then, everything is closed up. Who can see anything on these streets at night and at that hour? Who’s even around to see anything? All he has to do next is move down the street about half a mile to the dry cleaner’s display. Put Ms. Appleby’s head in his little assembly of witches and spiders and ghastly things—including the headless horseman.”
Aidan nodded. “I think your theory is right.”
“Yeah?” Voorhaven asked.
“Yeah. Here’s the next puzzle, though. Richard disappeared before his speech. It was still daylight. Wendy Appleby must’ve been grabbed about the same time. You’re thinking a van or SUV as a vehicle—that sounds logical. I know most car trunks wouldn’t fit two adults and a child. So, did he bring them here and kill them and go back—or did he hide them in plain sight, knocked out in the back of a van before coming here?”
“If Jillian Durfey, Taylor Branch and that security crew of Richard’s was involved,” Van Camp said, “they couldn’t have been driving out here. They were all seen at the convention center.”
“J.J. told us how he and his mother were taken. We know there had to be two people. I’m thinking someone in that bunch is guilty—whether it’s Jillian Durfey or not—and that there was someone on the outside, as well. Someone who wanted Richard and Wendy Appleby dead,” Aidan said.
“We need to find out why this person wanted to kill them both,” Voorhaven said.
Van Camp nodded.
“Anything else?”
“To summarize, it sounds like hoods or pieces of cloth soaked in chloroform were thrown over their heads,” Van Camp said. “We’re agreed that suggests two attackers. You think Wendy Appleby and the boy were taken first—and then Richard?”
“Getting Richard out would be harder, so, yes, probably,” Aidan agreed. “Let me just do a walk-through,” he said.
He left them and tried to focus on the task at hand. He returned to the entry of the tomb. By day, it was stark and dreary, with broken and chipped seals on either side. It had been abandoned by family and friends for a long time, perhaps a hundred years or so.
A rat ran over Aidan’s foot. He found himself thinking about J. J. Appleby, waking in the dark, screaming until he was hoarse, crawling around, seeking a way out.
Being in the vault alone in the dark was bad enough. But shreds of clothing and bits of decaying humanity were visible through the broken seals. Maybe the kid hadn’t seen how dismal and creepy his surroundings had been. Still, he might have accidentally touched some protruding bit of cloth or bone....
The outer area of the tomb had been ignored by the killer, who’d gone straight to the back. He’d known the altar was there; he had his knife and hatchet waiting. He’d strangled his victims—and, judging by the coroner’s report, he wasn’t experienced with cutting off a human head. Whether he’d wanted it to look like the work of a psycho or he was giddy with anticipation regarding his own efforts and their identification with the headless horseman, Aidan couldn’t be sure. But the beheading part, after the murders, had been well planned.
He moved on to the back of the vault. The crime scene people had collected what they needed and moved carefully. Aidan could make out two places where it seemed that the dust of the ages had settled—and been disturbed.
That was where he’d left his victims while going about his preparations.
And it was where J. J. Appleby had been thrown. Luckily, he’d been unconscious when his mother was butchered.
“Anything?” Van Camp asked, approaching him a minute later, together with Voorhaven.
“I’m getting the same thing as the kid,” Aidan replied, grinning at Jimmy.
“See, old man?” Jimmy teased.
“Never argued with your theory,” Van Camp said. “We’ve got the how of it all. We just need a definite who and why.” He looked at Aidan. “She’s been charged, but the case was nearly dismissed,” he said. “Durfey, I mean. And she swore up and down—with and without her attorney—that she’s innocent. I guess letting her out on bail was the best the judge could do, seeing as it was circumstantial.”
“Yeah, and, if you two don’t mind, I’ll need some help tonight,” Aidan told them.
“I wasn’t expecting a night off,” Van Camp said.
“What is it?” Voorhaven asked.