“You recognize her?” Tension coiled tighter in Tony’s gut.
“I’ve only seen a photo of her once when she was about thirteen, but this...” She glanced up at Tony, then stared at the screen once more. “I’m as positive as I can be that this is Sylvia Carson, Ellen’s daughter.”
For the benefit of the chiefs, Tony explained, “Ellen Carson was raped when she was abducted—the same way Vickie Parton was. She realized weeks after the nightmare was over that she was pregnant. She had the child and her parents raised her so the child grew up thinking she was Ellen’s younger sister.” He shifted his attention back to Joanna. “She’d be what? Seventeen?”
Joanna nodded. “She must have learned that Ellen was her real mother and what happened to us all those years ago. It’s the only way she could possibly have known to come after Conway and Houser.” Joanna put her hand to her mouth, then let it fall away. “That’s what Ellen’s husband meant.” She lifted her gaze to Tony. “She left him a note before she killed herself. All it said was ‘She knows everything.’”
“First thing we need to do,” Phelps said, “is to find this Sylvia Carson. I’m not releasing anything about this murder for the next twenty-four hours, maybe more. We want Carson to think she’s gotten away with it so she doesn’t go to ground.” He surveyed those gathered around the laptop. “The cell phone belonging to Martin...Houser—whatever the hell her name—isn’t the only thing around here missing. There’s an empty leather gun case in her nightstand. We couldn’t find anything registered to her, but whatever kind of gun she had is missing, too.”
Joanna stared at the frozen image on the screen as she recited Ellen’s husband’s name and address as well as the names and address of Ellen’s parents. “Sylvia has antisocial personality disorder. When I spoke to Ellen’s husband, he mentioned that Sylvia had run away from home.” She shrugged. “A few days ago, maybe.” She shook her head. “Oh my God, I can’t believe she did this.”
Buckley said, “We’ll need a full statement from you, Ms. Guthrie.”
Tony reached for her. “We’ll come into your office tomorrow. Right now Ms. Guthrie needs some time to deal with this.”
Tony pulled her to her feet and ushered her toward the door.
“We’ll be expecting you first thing in the morning,” Buckley called behind them.
“Your friends from the Bureau will likely be there, too,” Phelps warned.
Tony gave a wave of acknowledgment before walking out the door. When they were in the car, Joanna stared at him as he buckled first her seat belt and then his own. He started the car and drove away. They were two blocks away before she spoke.
“What’re we doing now?”
“We’re going to find the only other lead connected to our dead players that we know of.”
“What lead?”
He braked for a traffic light. “You said Madelyn Houser worked for a Professor Blume?”
She nodded. “I think that’s how she chose Ellen and me. She worked at the college so she had access to the students, maybe their records.”
His thoughts exactly. “Madelyn Houser was fired from the university for stealing from students. Maybe Blume had her checking out potential victims and their extracurricular activities. She may have gotten greedy and decided to take a little something on the side and got caught. But she was very good at what Blume needed her to do so he hired her back—after hours, of course.”
Considering how Houser had lived, she’d earned a great deal of money over the years, particularly in contrast to Miles Conway. Then again, maybe the man only cared about cars. Besides the Ferrari, he could have a whole stash of high-end sports cars in a rented garage somewhere. On the other hand, Houser had mentioned that she’d married well.
“Blume could be the person in charge.” Joanna glanced at Tony, then turned her attention back to the passing landscape. “As a psychologist and advisor he would’ve known everything about the students. Their weaknesses, their strengths. He worked most hands-on with the freshman class. He was the go-to guy for freshmen in need of advisement.” She rubbed at her eyes. “I don’t know why I never thought of that. He was always so nice and caring. I wouldn’t have considered him capable of being that kind of monster. He...he was part of the school staff. He made us feel safe.”
“Sometimes monsters are the nicest people.” Tony reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “That’s why so many go unnoticed for years.”
His source had confirmed that Blume was involved with some sort of work at the old Central State Hospital until very recently. Just maybe, all the pieces were finally beginning to come together.
“No one will ever believe he did this.” Joanna shook her head. “I’m not sure I can believe it.”
“At the moment, he’s our only known connection between you and Houser. Which is why we’re going to find him.”
Hopefully before he ended up as dead as Houser and Conway.
36
Day Seven
Eighteen years ago...
The movies won’t stop.
They play over and over and my eyes and brain can’t take it anymore.
We all lie on our sides on the floor curled into balls. Our knees pulled to our faces, our eyes squeezed shut.
Why doesn’t it stop?
I’m so hungry. No water today.
Is it another day?
I don’t know how long the movies have been playing. I can’t remember when they started. An hour ago? A day? Weeks—it feels like weeks. No. Couldn’t be weeks. I haven’t been in this place a week—have I?
Then the screaming starts.
I sit up. Who’s screaming? The three of us—Ellen, me and No-Name—are huddled close on the floor looking around at the insane images. The screams match the images. Women screaming. Children screaming. Men wailing—so much shrieking.
I just want it to stop. I put my hands over my ears and close my eyes.
Don’t look, don’t listen.
But I can see the images through my weary eyelids. I can hear the screams no matter how hard I press my hands against my ears.
My head is spinning.
Please make it stop.
37
8:00 p.m.
“You should eat.”
Jo plucked a fry from the bag and stuffed it into her mouth. She didn’t want to eat. She had no appetite. The fry was like chewing wax. “Satisfied?”
By the time they found Blume’s house it was too dark to see anything and no one was home. Disgusted, LeDoux opted to call it a night. She hadn’t argued. They’d hit a drive-through as soon as they reached Milledgeville city limits. He’d wanted to stop and have a decent meal but she’d wanted to go straight back to the inn. A drive-through was the compromise. She needed quiet. Spending this much time with other people was not the norm for her. After all that had happened, she needed her solitude as badly as she needed the air to breathe.
She had to think.
She closed her eyes and wished LeDoux would drive faster. Jesus, how could this be? How could a child have done these things?
Just look at what you did when you were hardly a year older than her.
Jesus Christ, no wonder Ellen couldn’t take it anymore. She’d lived with what they’d done, assuaging her conscience with alcohol all these years. Why had she suddenly told her daughter the truth? Had Sylvia learned Ellen was really her mother and demanded to know why she hadn’t claimed her as more than her sister?
Why else would she tell her after all these years?
What a screwed-up mess. Jo could only imagine what Ellen’s parents were going through right now.
What about your own family? Look what you’ve put them through.
Guilt stabbed her to the bone. This was why she stayed deep in her own little world. She didn’t have to think about these things, didn’t have to feel. Except she had started to feel. She turned to study the man behind the wheel. He had helped her to dare to feel again, to want more. Damn it. Where the hell did she go from here?
“At least the investigation is moving in some sort of forward direction now.” LeDoux glanced at her. “Having the locals on the same sheet of music is always a good thing.”