CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

 

Deputy Lester sprinted over to me. “What’s wrong? I heard you scream.” When he looked down at Michaela’s body, sitting there peacefully and heart-wrenchingly still, he said, “That’s…”

I nodded, unable to speak, my eyes fastened on the body. Her torso was tied to the grave with fishing line, and her head was bowed, almost as if she were asleep. Her right hand was missing, and her left hand clutched a garden spade. I saw no note this time. Her clothing was similar to what the killer had dressed Jenna in when he’d posed her. Judging from the inch of snow covering some parts of her, I’d say she’d been out here since at least eleven, since it had stopped snowing around noon.

Lester snapped into action, using the radio clipped to his shoulder to call for any and all available emergency personnel to come here immediately. In one motion, he unholstered his gun, grabbed me, and threw me behind him. He then turned in a slow circle, scanning the area.

My mind was swimming with thoughts, the most frightening one being where is my sister? Did Rachel’s weird text have anything to do with this scene, or was it more likely that her number had been spoofed in an attempt to get me out here alone? She regularly turned her phone off during class and during study groups, so it stood to reason that she hadn’t returned any of my many texts and calls. That had to be it. Phone numbers were simple to spoof, so it wasn’t a stretch that someone who could mastermind three murders without getting caught could have pulled it off.

Lester loosened his vise grip on me. “I think you should sit in my vehicle. It’ll be safer than having you out in the open.”

Trying to keep my composure, I nodded and replied, “Okay.” I didn’t like the thought of being a sitting duck out here, either.

By the time I got settled in Lester’s vehicle, the first responders started pulling in. Two sheriff’s department cruisers came screaming into the small parking lot as I tried to reach Rachel again by phone. It was past three PM, so I hoped she’d have turned her ringer back on by now. And knowing she was in a bad frame of mind already, I figured if she was stuck waiting for us for any amount of time, she’d be calling me, demanding to know why my police escort and I hadn’t bothered to show up at the promised time.

Moments later, as I was keying in text message number ten, my door was wrenched open, and a hand grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the vehicle.

Baxter swept me into a crushing hug, asking in a tense voice, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m just…confused.”

When he let me go, he searched my face as he asked, “Did you see Parsons? Why are you even out here?”

I showed him my phone. “I got a text from Rachel asking me to meet her here. At our mother’s grave.”

His face became ashen, and he wiped a hand down his beard. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know. When we got here, Rachel’s car wasn’t here, which I found odd. But then I saw someone’s head over the top of the gravestone and thought for a moment it was Rachel. When I got a good look…it wasn’t.”

“So where’s Rachel now?”

I hesitated. “I’m not sure. I guess on campus. She had a study group until three, and afterward we were supposed to meet and go to David’s house to see Nate. But then she texted me early, saying she was out here. I’ve tried to reach her, but can’t.” When Baxter’s eyes became strained with concern, I added, “But that’s not out of the ordinary while she’s in class or studying. I’m assuming the killer spoofed her number so I’d be the one to come out here and find Michaela.”

The theory I’d formed made sense, but some variables bothered me. How did Hunter Parsons have my cell number and Rachel’s? And how did he know that Patty Copland was Rachel’s and my mother? That wasn’t common knowledge. With Jayne’s help we’d purposely kept our names out of any media coverage, had a quiet burial, and submitted no obituary in hopes of keeping Rachel and Nate out of the spotlight. It was our belief that Rachel’s lunatic father, Marcus Copland, had killed our mother, and Rachel didn’t want him trying to find her or contact her. Shortly after the funeral, Rachel changed her last name and Nate’s to Miller in order to further hide from Marcus. On a selfish note, I wanted my name kept out of it because I was too ashamed to admit to my coworkers in the department that the known crack whore we’d finally identified was in fact my own mother. As of now my secret would no longer be a secret. That would be fun to explain.

Baxter got out his phone. “I’ll have campus security find your sister. Where was her study group?”

I shrugged. “I think they normally meet in the library, but not always.”

As if my day weren’t going badly enough, Agent Manetti strode over to us, all business, and elbowed Baxter out of the way. Baxter threw a glare at the back of Manetti’s head and walked a few paces away to make his phone call.

Manetti demanded, “What’s going on out here? Last night all you wanted was to be far away from this case, and now you’re right back in the middle of it.”

I stared at him. “So now it’s my fault that the killer is targeting me?”

“Why are you here?”

Frustrated, I handed him my phone showing the text from Rachel. “I got this text from my sister.”

Manetti read it and frowned. “What does your sister have to do with this?”

“Nothing, I’m betting. I think this was all a ploy to get me out here.”

“Does your sister know Hunter Parsons?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? Would she hide something like that from you?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you asking me if my sister could be working with the killer?”

“I’m trying to get a frame of reference. Also, I need to take your phone.”

My jaw dropped, and I snatched it back out of his hand. “Like hell you do. I have to keep trying to contact my sister. You don’t need my phone to track this text. All you need is her phone number.” I managed to refrain from adding, idiot.

He must have inferred my meaning, because he glared down at me. “What I don’t need is you getting hostile, Ms. Matthews.”

“Then go bother someone else,” I fired back.

“Everything okay over here?” Baxter asked warily, having walked back over to us after finishing his phone call.

Ignoring him, Manetti demanded, “Did you touch anything at the scene?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course not. How stupid do you think I am?” When he didn’t reply, I added, “It bothers me that there’s a brand-new active crime scene over there, and you’re over here grilling me for no apparent reason.”

“Don’t judge my style of investigation, Ms. Matthews. Don’t forget: you’re a criminalist, not a detective.”

As I took a breath to return a biting remark, Baxter cut me off. “Ellie, can I get your sister’s number? I want to run a quick trace on her cell signal.”

Manetti, evidently finished with me, stalked away.

I muttered, “Did you hear that? He actually insinuated that Rachel is somehow working with the killer.”

Baxter shook his head. “I don’t think he meant it that way.”

“Why are you defending that…that uncaring cyborg?”

“I’m not. Hey, give me Rachel’s number so we can try to pinpoint her location. I want to start figuring out where that bogus text came from.”

I pulled up Rachel’s contact info and let him take a photo of my screen. He typed a quick email and attached the photo.

“Someone will get working on it right away. I need to go take a look at the scene. Will you be okay here by yourself?”

“If Manetti keeps his distance.”

He smiled. “I’ll make sure he’s otherwise occupied. You keep trying Rachel.”

I got back in the cruiser and called Rachel, again getting her voicemail. I texted Miranda, but got back a message that she hadn’t seen Rachel since they met for coffee at noon. Last she knew, Rachel was on her way to study group.

I called my friend Samantha. When she answered, I said, “Hi, Sam.”

“Hey, how did the funeral go? You and Rachel doing okay?”

“Um…I guess. I’m looking for Rachel, and I think she turned her phone off when she went to her study group. Are you still on campus?”

“Yes.”

“Would you have time to run over to the library right now and see if you can find her? I need to get in touch with her to…change the time I’m picking her up this afternoon.”

“Sure. In fact, I’m in the courtyard right now. Hey, let’s do lunch tomorrow, if you’re free. Okay?”

“You bet. Thanks, Sam.”

I knew Baxter already had campus security looking for Rachel, but sometimes they weren’t as quick as they could be. Sam would have an answer for me within minutes. It was fifteen minutes past three, and I was growing anxious.

I hated to worry David, but no one had looked for Rachel there.

I called him, and when he answered, I said, “Hi, David. Is Rachel at your place?”

“No, should she be?”

I lied, “We were planning to come over this afternoon, but we got our wires crossed on who was picking up who to drive over. She’s not answering her phone at the moment, but she might be driving or something. I’ll keep trying her.”

David’s voice had grown concerned. “You’re sure there’s nothing wrong?”

I hated not being truthful with him. “We’re just still emotional over the funeral this morning. Not thinking straight.”

“Oh. Well, when you find her, please let me know.”

“I will.”

By now my stomach was churning. I looked through the windshield and saw Baxter coming toward me, a grim expression on his face. I got out of the cruiser to meet him.

He couldn’t look me in the eyes. “Ellie, we can’t locate the signal on your sister’s phone. That text you got came from a tower in Fishers.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “Fishers? I don’t know why she’d drive all the way over there.”

“She didn’t. Her vehicle is still at Ashmore.”

My body went numb. I whispered, “Maybe someone stole her phone.” My phone rang in my hand, and it was Samantha. My heart pounding, I put the call on speaker and cried, “Sam, did you find her?”

Sam’s voice was strained. “No, honey. Um…I did manage to find a couple of students from her study group, and they said…she never showed up today.”

I looked up at Baxter, fighting tears. I could tell from the expression in his eyes that he thought the worst.

Sam said, “Ellie? Campus security is here with me. They’ve been looking for her all over campus. What’s going on? Is she…is she missing?”

I choked out, “I don’t know. I think…she could be…” As I broke down, Baxter took my phone and pulled me to him.

I heard him say, “Dr. Jordan, this is Detective Baxter. I need to speak to one of the security officers.” After a pause, he continued, “This is Detective Nick Baxter. We need you to expand your search for Rachel Miller. I want an alert sent out to all students and faculty including Ms. Miller’s photo, asking for information on when she was last seen on campus. I need you to contact the Ashmore Voice and have them run the same thing. I want a campus-wide search organized and up and running within the hour. This is your priority, and I want updates every fifteen minutes. Thank you. Goodbye.”

“He has her,” I rasped in between sobs.

Baxter held me tighter. “We don’t know that for sure.”

I pushed away from him and wiped my eyes. “Don’t coddle me! I can tell by the look on your face you think the same damn thing.”

There was a loud whistle from across the cemetery, and Sterling called, “Baxter, get over here. And bring Matthews.”

“Why do they want me?” I asked warily.

“I’m not sure.”

I swiped a hand across my face and pulled myself together. Baxter had me sign in on the scene entry log, and then we both approached my mother’s gravesite. Sterling and Dr. Berg were deep in conversation, and Amanda was taking photos while Beck made some measurements and recorded them on a rough sketch he’d started. Manetti was standing a few feet away, phone glued to his ear.

When Sterling saw us, he ended his conversation with Dr. Berg. His voice off-puttingly gentle, he asked me, “Matthews, does this grave have some significance to you? Do you know a Patty Copland?”

I glanced at Baxter, who was watching me worriedly.

Before I could answer, Beck piped up, “Now I remember that name. From that case three years ago where the vic was chopped up and pieces of her were scattered all over the county. The one Ellie quit in the middle of.”

Sterling barked, “Shut the hell up, Becky. Show a little respect.”

I lowered my eyes and murmured, “Patty Copland was my mother.”

Dead silence filled the air.

Finally, Sterling cleared his throat. “Well, that fits the pattern. I…I’m sorry to have called you back over, um…Ellie.”

If Sterling was being this nice to me, something was wrong. I snapped my head up. “Wait. What’s going on here? What pattern? What don’t I know?”

They all turned to look at me with pity. Even Manetti.

“Someone tell me, damn it!”

Manetti held a plastic sleeve with a rumpled piece of paper in it. “We just found this in the victim’s mouth. The poem this time… It references you. And your sister.”

“No,” Baxter breathed, staring at the poem in disbelief.

Manetti’s words were like a kick to my gut. Amanda hurried over to me and put a hand on my shoulder. Baxter did the same on the other side of me. I struggled to focus, to not break down. Even though I didn’t want to believe it, it was becoming clear to me that my sister was in grave danger.

I swallowed and whispered, “Read it.”

Manetti read, “You’re still in the dark, so I’m going to be kind. I’m flattered how I’m on everyone’s mind. A hand for a hand. Let me give you a clue. Now that I have your attention, I’ll be the one telling you what to do.” Pausing for a moment, he flicked his eyes at me, and Amanda tightened her grip on my shoulder. He continued, “If the professor plays nice, her sister lives. Stay tuned for the instructions I’ll give.”

I felt like my whole world was shattering in slow motion, piece by piece. I couldn’t breathe. My entire body was numb, and when my legs gave way, Amanda and Baxter were there to hold me up.

I choked out, “He has my sister.”

Manetti nodded, his expression anguished. “Yes, we’re afraid he does. But we’re going to do everything within our power to—”

I cut him off, trembling. “The poem says if I play nice, she’ll live. When he contacts you, don’t do the standard police negotiation bullshit. You tell that son of a bitch I’ll do anything he asks. Nothing is off the table. I will trade places with her. I will give him anything he wants. The only thing I care about is Rachel getting out of this alive.”

Manetti said quietly, “Ms. Matthews, I think we need to talk about this and come up with a strategy—”

“I’m getting my sister out of this, and I don’t care what it costs me.” I shrugged out of Baxter and Amanda’s grips. “I’m going home to wait for his instructions.”

I turned and took off for Lester’s cruiser, thinking I wasn’t going to be able to hold it together much longer. I should have known after Baxter heard my little speech he wouldn’t just let me go.

He fell in step with me as I hurried down the road toward the parking lot. “Ellie, I know your main focus is Rachel’s safety, but you can’t tell a sociopath you’ll give him anything he wants. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but—”

“Yes, you are. That’s exactly what you’re doing. You’re going to say that trading my life for hers isn’t going to solve anything. It’s only going to fuel his ego, and it could totally blow up in my face. He might even decide to keep us both.”

“You’re right. That’s everything I was going to say. You can’t trust him, which is why it’s a terrible idea to give in to his demands.”

I stopped and looked up at him as tears started spilling down my cheeks. “I’m willing to take that risk, Nick. I can’t stand by and not try to find a way around this. Even if there’s a tiny chance he’ll let Rachel go, I have to take it. I made a promise to always be there for her. I’m not breaking it now, even to save my own life.”

I’d only seen Baxter look this frightened one other time before—when he thought I’d been shot a few months ago. “I can’t let you do this, Ellie. We’ll think of another way. We’ll find this guy.”

“You’ve said that all week, Nick. No offense, but you know you’re not going to find him unless he wants you to. And the only way to do that may be to hand me over to him.”

His eyes shone with tears. “I will not be a part of that.”

“I’m not asking you to.” I walked away, and this time he didn’t follow.