“I’m working on it. Give me some room. My vagabond hermit of a sister suddenly has a big house in the middle of rehab, has a dog, and is sleeping with a guy I just met. It’s a lot in a short time.”
“It doesn’t feel as short when you’re in it. I’m not going to get all”—she circled her index fingers in the air—“and say I recognized the house. But I recognized the potential of it, and its potential for me. I didn’t know I was ready to plant until I saw it, then I was ready. The dog wasn’t going to happen, and then he did. Now I can’t imagine not having him around.”
“He’s a great dog.”
Even more, she thought, he’d become her family. “I’d have taken him to the shelter if Xander hadn’t blocked me, every time.”
“Why didn’t he take the dog?”
“He just lost his.”
“Ah.” Mason nodded, understanding completely. “You haven’t answered the actual question. We call that deflection.”
“I’m not deflecting, I’m working up to it. It’s more serious than I planned. More serious than I thought I’d want, and more serious than I’m sure I can handle. But he’s . . .”
She wasn’t sure she could explain it, to him or to herself.
“He makes me feel more than I thought I ever could or would. He figured out who I was. He had Simon Vance’s book on his wall of books—you have to see that wall of books. I have pictures.”
“Check out my shocked face,” Mason said, and made her laugh.
“Anyway. Apparently I didn’t hide my reaction to seeing Vance’s book as well as I thought, and Xander figured it out. But, Mason, he didn’t say anything to me, or change toward me. He didn’t tell anyone, even his closest friend. Do you know what that means to me?”
“Yeah.” Now Mason covered her hand with his. “And it goes a long way for me deciding he has a name. I liked him, and I know that matters to you. And I’m going to be up-front because you matter and tell you I ran him.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
“You’re my sister, you’re my family. And we share something most don’t, most can’t understand, and shouldn’t. I had to do it, Naomi. A couple of bumps in his late teens, early twenties, if you care.”
“Which I don’t.”
He rolled over that. “Disturbing the peace, destruction of property—bar fight that reads like he didn’t start it, but sure as hell finished it. No time—plenty of speeding tickets up until he hit about twenty-five. And that’s it. I’m going to add I feel better knowing he had a couple of bumps, got them out of his system. I like knowing he can finish a fight. No marriages or divorces, no children on record. He’s sole owner of the garage, half owner of the bar, and half owner of the building that holds the bar and an apartment. Winston thinks highly of him.”
“Are you done now?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Now we’re going to get these dishes done, FaceTime the uncles, then you get the grand tour.”
“Okay. I’ve got one more thing, but I’m really done. Does he make you happy?”
“He does, and that was a shock to the system. And he makes me, or helps me, think beyond the moment. I’d gotten too much in the habit of only right now. I like thinking about tomorrow.”
“Then I may start calling him Xander. But what kind of name is that anyway?”
“Really, Mason Jar?”
“Shut up,” he said, and pushed away from the table to help her clear.
—
He waited until just after two in the morning to drive the quiet roads to the woods near the bluff. He parked on the shoulder.
Maybe they had patrols out at this hour, looking for the likes of him. But in his considerable experience it was far too early in the game for it, considering the two-bit town and half-ass police force.
And this wouldn’t take long.
He had her wrapped in a standard sheet of plastic. Trial and error had proven this method worked best. He had to put some muscle into hauling her out and up over his shoulder—fireman’s carry. He took some pride in being stronger than he looked, but she was a heftier package than he preferred.
All in all she’d been a disappointment. No fight or sass in her, not after the first couple hours anyway. It just cut into his fun when they didn’t try to scream or beg, when they stopped fighting, and she’d gone downhill so fast he’d nearly killed her out of sheer boredom.
Too much like that scrawny old bitch he’d grabbed up in godforsaken Kansas when he couldn’t get the one he’d had his eye on.
Or that fat-ass in Louisville. Or—
No point in dwelling on past mistakes, he assured himself as he shifted the dead weight on his shoulder and used the hunter’s light on his hat to light the track.
He just had to stop repeating them, remember patience was a virtue.
He’d already scoped his ground, using Naomi’s website pictures as a guide, and gratefully dropped Donna’s body between the track and a nurse log. With practiced moves, he rolled it out of the plastic, studied it while he folded the sheet to take with him.
Waste not, want not.
He took out his phone, switched to camera mode, and took his last souvenir pictures of Donna Lanier.
Then he walked away without giving the woman he’d killed another thought. She was the past, and he had his path set for the future.
He cruised the road just far enough to bring the house on the bluff, its spreading silhouette against a starstruck sky, into view.
Sleep well, Naomi, he thought. Rest up. I’ll be seeing you soon, and we’re going to have some fun.
Twenty-four
A young couple from Spokane, with a baby in a backpack, found the body on a nature hike on Monday’s sparkling afternoon.
Within minutes, Sam Winston stood over the body of a woman he’d known for three decades, and had liked every day of them.
Minutes later, Mason made his way through the woods to join him.
“I had to hope it wouldn’t end this way.”
“I’m sorry, very sorry, for your loss, Chief.”
“She’s everyone’s loss. Well.” Determined to do his best for her, Sam rubbed his hands over his face, shook it off. “Bound and gagged, naked, like Marla. Wounds are worse—he cut and beat her more severely.”
“He may be escalating. Or . . . it may be frustration that she wasn’t his first choice.”
“He brushed out any footprints—you can see how he stirred up the dirt, the layer of pine needles. So he’s careful. He had to carry her to this spot, most likely from the road—down the track. She’s easily one-fifty, so he’s got some muscle.”
Careful to touch nothing, disturb nothing, Mason crouched down, studied the wounds, the position of the body.
“She’s not posed, no attempt to cover or bury her. No remorse, nothing symbolic. He was simply finished, and dumped the body here, walked away.”
“She didn’t mean anything to him.”
“No. The first victim, she was laid out differently—the way her arms reached out. And he left her shoes. She was more important—may be a surrogate. Younger, blonde, attractive, slim.”
“Like Maxie would’ve been.”
“Yes. We’re not that far from my sister’s house. Is this trail popular?”
“It gets some use, yeah. A little farther west, toward the park, into the park, you get more hikers, but this area gets visitors pretty regularly. He wanted her found, and directly.”
“I agree. Do you mind if I take some pictures?”
“Go ahead. We’ll be taking our own—I wanted a minute with her first.”
And, Sam could admit to himself, had to resist the gnawing urge to cover her. Once again, he shook it off.
“My deputy back on the road, you probably saw him, is getting the statements from the couple who found her. They’ve got a three-month-old baby with them. Their first vacation as a family.” Sam sighed out air. “They won’t forget it.”
He looked into the woods, into the green deepening as spring slid toward summer. “We’ll get this taped off, do what we do, and do what we can. And once we do that here, I’ll go see her sister, her daughter.”
“Do you want me to go with you for the notifications?”
“I appreciate the offer, but they know me. It’ll be a little easier, as much as it can be, from somebody they know.”
—