He caught himself licking his lips. Her skin looked white and creamy. Young ones were usually so soft, like slicing into butter. Such a shame he had missed her.
Earlier he’d been pleased with himself as he watched the woman investigator race out the door and end up on hands and knees puking out her insides. He loved the reactions to his work almost as much as he enjoyed doing it. Their curiosity was usually followed by a double-take like they couldn’t believe their eyes. Then the sheer horror crossed their faces.
Priceless.
The discovery made it a shared experience. What artist didn’t enjoy sharing his masterpieces?
But the girl…It bothered him that he missed seeing her. What was more interesting was that Loner had missed her, too.
He couldn’t help but smile at the irony of it all. He had followed that cocky son of a bitch for three days waiting for an opportunity to trip him up. Just a little fun and games. But as it turned out, this ghost of a girl was about to trip up both of them.
Chapter 7
The sky started to turn gray with heavy rain clouds rolling in and threatening to burst. With them came a damp, cold breeze.
Delaney went to wrap his suit jacket around the girl’s bare shoulders. She flinched and he stopped short. She kept blinking and wiping at her eyes. Even the gray sky seemed too bright. Delaney continued talking to her, gentle and slow and without taking another step. Instead he explained to her who they were, that they were there to help.
“No one will hurt you. I promise.”
Maggie watched, mesmerized by him, lulled by the tone of his voice and she could see the girl was, too. Delaney specialized in hostage negotiations. He knew how to convince criminals that he was on their side, that he was willing to listen and help, but Maggie realized this wasn’t just the hostage negotiator talking. This was a father talking to a child. A very cold, hungry and scared child who was also in shock from what she had seen.
Obviously the girl hadn’t witnessed the murders or she wouldn’t still be alive. But there was no doubt in Maggie’s mind that she had seen the dead bodies. One look at the girl’s bloody bare feet and she knew the footprints on the carpet were not the killer’s.
“My name’s Rich,” Delaney was telling the girl. “What can I call you?”
She batted at her hair but didn’t answer. She wore a white tank top and cropped denim pants. Maggie remembered that three days ago the weather had been unseasonably warm. Eighty-degrees and sunshine. The next day, fall returned.
Three days – that sounded about right considering the condition of the bodies. Good Lord, this girl may have been hiding in the dark, damp cellar for three days!
“Katie,” she finally said so quietly it was almost lost in the breeze and the whip-snap of the bed sheets on the clothesline.
“How old are you, Katie?”
But now she just stared like she didn’t hear him.
Maggie guessed the girl was eleven or twelve. Unfortunately, she understood all too well what it meant to be twelve, to be scared and to be alone. She noticed that Katie kept glancing back over her shoulder as if she were looking for someone.
The killer hadn’t seen her, but had Katie seen him?
“Your parents,” Delaney started to say and Maggie could see him struggling with the next question. “We’ll find who did this. Maybe you can help us.”
Cunningham and Turner had backed off. They’d left Delaney and Maggie, giving the girl space. Now Maggie could see Cunningham on his cell phone. But Katie wasn’t interested in the law enforcement men she was glancing back in the other direction. Back toward the river. She didn’t look like she was listening to Delaney anymore either.
“My daddy,” she whispered and then she pointed. “He fell in the river.”
“Your dad?” Delaney shot a look at Maggie. “He’s not in the trailer?”
She shook her head, a quick back and forth like she was shaking the image out of her mind. “Uncle Lou and Aunt Beth.”
Maggie started walking toward the riverbank. Delaney stayed with the girl and called out to Cunningham. Her fingers slipped inside her jacket, settled on her grip of her Smith & Wesson.
Did Katie’s father fall into the water or had he jumped in after killing Uncle Lou and Aunt Beth?
Chapter 8
Dense fog had settled in like smoke hovering above the surface of the water. Maggie guessed they had two hours at most before they lost daylight. Thankfully it wasn’t raining yet, but the breeze had turned brisk especially here on the river’s bank. She wished she had more than the thin windbreaker. Everywhere on her body that had moments ago been hot and sweaty was now cold and damp.
She thought the rowboat looked new. So did the fishing gear inside. It was tied to a post, gently rocking with the river’s current.
“That’s a beauty,” Cunningham said, coming up behind her. “It’s a kit boat. Red and white cedar. Still freshly polished. Probably just put it in the water.”
“Kit boat?”