Clay put his mental needle back on the vinyl and continued cruising through the twilight, feeling invigorated. He decided that not only was hikers and cops discovering the body okay – it was another blessing in disguise, really; an opportunity.
There was no reason to be secretive about this. With Harriet, he’d left her right out in the open, right in front of DSS. Though it hadn’t gone perfectly – he needed a venue that he could control, something he could set up so there would be no mistakes, and there would be no ambiguity about what he was accomplishing with his final target. At least, not to his witness. The cops may continue to fumble around and fuck it up, but Bobbi Noelle would know. And she was the perfect one to observe because she was just like Alison Hadley. She needed a fucking wake-up call; she would come to understand him, what he was doing. She would realize the folly of her life, and then she would die, too.
* * *
“There are fewer cuts,” Mike said. They stood outside the morgue in the parking lot, both of them chewing gum, another night already upon them. Lena kept grimacing and sniffing her clothes. It was her first autopsy.
“What do you mean? It’s not the same doer?”
“I’m not saying that. Just that there’s only two cuts, both across her neck.”
Lena spit her gum out in a tissue. “I mean, is this Corina Lavoie or not?”
“We have yet to make that official determination.”
“I know, Mike. I mean right now, you and me – is it her?”
“It’s her. When the sister comes in from Watertown we’ll make it official. But, it’s her. I mean, I’m ninety-five percent it’s her.”
“Then what difference does it make how many times she was cut? She worked in Lake Haven as a caseworker with Harriet Fogarty. Two caseworkers from the same place – not a coincidence. We know this.”
“We do. What it means is… I don’t know. That these are two different styles of killing. With one, he hides the body. The second, he leaves her there; it’s almost ostentatious. So this guy is changing. And if it’s not over with these two… maybe if it happens again, he goes even bigger, showier.”
“Why would it happen again?” Lena asked, paling. “The cases we’re looking at – Caruthers, Morrissey, Earnshaw – Harriet and Lavoie were the only caseworkers involved.”
“We need to look again to be sure. See if there’s anyone else in the paperwork.”
Lena stared off toward the main drag, a few cars crawling along in the warm night. “I guess this is a call to Matt Spalding?” Spalding was an FBI liaison. Mike had worked with him a couple of times in the past. “If there’s two victims,” Lena said, “they’ll want to be apprised, to monitor things. At least once she’s officially identified.”
They both looked into the shadows for a moment, then she moved a little closer to him, slipped her arms around his waist. He checked to see if anyone was watching, but the parking lot was empty except for a couple of cars: theirs and one other. “How you doing?” he asked her.
“I’m okay.”
“You don’t seem it.”
“I’m fine. We’re just… It’s okay. I’m good.”
She kept her arms encircled, and he felt her heart beating against his chest.
* * *
Jolyon ran up ahead of them on the trail, starting to disappear around the corner.
“Red light!” Connor shouted.
Jolyon stopped in his tracks and waited, looking back over his shoulder.
“Okay… green light,” Connor said.
Jolyon took off running again, cresting a rise. The late Sunday morning was gloomy, not much sun, and Bobbi swatted away the swarming bugs. She was holding hands with Connor and could feel him watching her out of the corner of his eye as they walked abreast.
He asked, “So what did the state police guy say?”
“He sent someone over who looked around at everything, had me walk him through what happened.”
“Another detective?”
“A state trooper. Then he called and asked me if I thought it was Jamie.”
“And what did you say?”
“I couldn’t really tell. It happened way too fast, and he was down at the end of the street.”
He sighed. “I should have been there.”
She kept silent, watching as Jolyon stomped on something.
“Hey!” Connor called. “What are you doing?”
“It’s a spider!”
“So? What did it do to you?”
“Nothing!” Jolyon gave it one more stomp then hustled on again, talking to himself and making sound effects, like he was in the midst of a great battle.
The trail opened up and they walked out into the wide backyard of the John Brown farm.
The historic site included a man-made pond, squared along one side. An informational plaque was placed near the water. In 1859, in an attempt to liberate slaves in the South, Brown was captured, hanged, his body returned to the farm near Lake Placid, where it was buried in front of the original house, still standing.
Connor let go of her hand. “Jolyon! C’mere…”
The boy wandered over and Connor squatted down, probed around his neck, the backs of his ears.
“Ticks?” Bobbi asked.
“They’re usually gone by this time of summer, but it’s been so warm.” He nodded at the plaque. “What’s it say?”
She read off the quote: “‘I, John Brown, am quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with blood. I had, as I now think, vainly flattered myself that without very much bloodshed it might be done.’”
“Sounds like a prediction of the Civil War,” Connor said. He patted Jolyon on the butt. “Okay, bud. All clear.” They watched Jolyon run off toward the house then stop when something else in the kept grass piqued his interest. “No more spider-killing!” Connor called, then he turned to Bobbi, and his eyebrows went up. “What?”
“You’re a great dad.”
He took her by the arms. “I mean it, Bobbi. This is crazy shit going on. You had someone at your work killed. And now there’s another victim, sunk in a pond or something? Is she a caseworker?”
“I don’t know. They haven’t said.”
“Yeah, well, meanwhile, you’ve got people showing up at your apartment in the middle of the night, standing outside your door. I mean – is this state investigator guy posting someone outside your house again?”
“The trooper who responded said Lake Placid police had been tied up because of a car accident, but they’re going to go back to… checking, or whatever. Driving by my house.”
“Oh, big deal.”
“I think at this point the police are trying to cover all the other DSS employees, too.”
“See? There you go. I bet this other victim was a caseworker.” He looked perturbed, watching Jolyon while he said, “You need someone looking out for you.”
“I’m okay.”
He studied her, searched her eyes.
“I can take care of myself,” she added, and then instantly regretted it.
The silence that followed was heavy with inference, and his face fell; he let go of her, stepped away.
“Connor…”
“Yeah, I know.” He started walking.
“There’s so much going on, I mean… You’re amazing, Connor. You’re a great father. And—”
“Right.” He stopped abruptly and turned. “But you’re just not… what? I know there’s all this crazy shit happening, but that’s not why you’re acting like this, and you know it.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“Well, I mean… what? You’re just not… what?”
She felt pressured. “I don’t know. Maybe now is not… maybe I’m not ready.”
“When will you be? Do I get a date, a time?” He moved off again.
“It doesn’t work like that,” she said in a whisper, not really wanting him to hear.
Bobbi just stood there as Connor went to Jolyon, who was trying to get into the John Brown house. It was locked, and Connor pulled him away, but they cupped their hands and looked through the glass. After a moment, Connor glanced at her, and the disappointment she saw in his face was excruciating.