Tess thought about Craig and felt uncertain whether he was capable of being a killer. Having gone through the experience in Paradise Hill with Eugene, a man she thought was a perfect gentleman and good father, she had to suspect everyone. But while Craig was awkward at times, and avoided eye contact like it actually pained him, he was really nice -- actually sweet -- once you got him to talk to you.
He definitely had some form of Autism, probably with Asperger's Syndrome, with high intelligence but very poor social skills. He stuttered as well, and Tess had always tried to be patient, letting him struggle to get the words out instead of finishing his sentences. It meant conversations took longer than normal, but the reward was a smiling Craig, who seemed to appreciate that she took the time to hear him out.
She remembered the first time she worked with Craig on a story about missing women in Seattle's seedier districts where the homeless spent their days and where drug addicts did their hits in back alleys and dark doorways. She and Craig had traveled to Aurora Avenue where the prostitutes hung out. Tess had just started to work the story after the murder of a street prostitute, whose body turned up in a dumpster at the edge of the city.
While Tess interviewed a few of the women, Craig took photos and together, they had worked on the piece. The final article was filled with haunting black and white images of women dressed in scanty clothes, scanning the streets for potential Johns. Dark alleys and doorways loomed large in the images, making it seem like some unnamed evil lurked just around the corner.
According to Jenna, who served as the newsroom's grapevine, Craig met Rachel a few years earlier on one of those excursions into Seattle's red-light district for a story. She was working at one of the seedy bars that serviced the local population. A former runaway, who had lived on the streets for a while, Rachel had gone to rehab and gotten cleaned up. Her daughter Sadie lived with Rachel's foster family during the time she spent in rehab and she had straightened out, working two jobs while her daughter went to school and daycare. Rachel seemed to finally be doing well for herself, having escaped the streets, living with her daughter in a slightly better part of the city.
"They moved in together less than two months after they met," Jenna said and raised her eyebrows suggestively. "He moved fast -- or she did. She probably saw him as a father figure for her daughter."
"Did you ever meet her?" Tess asked, for Jenna seemed to know quite a bit about the young woman and her daughter.
"Yes," Jenna said. "Several times. I used to meet them at the local market on Saturdays. They seemed happy enough. The last time I saw them was only a month before she disappeared, so if there were strains in their relationship, I didn't see it, but often, people hide the truth, don't they? They put up a good front."
Tess nodded. That was the truth. People fought to keep up a good public image, all the while screaming in their own heads for someone to help them. Behind closed doors, all kinds of private hell existed. The case stories Tess had read during her research for articles made her despair at times. That may have been why she hesitated to get too close to anyone, whether it was female friends or lovers, which were few and far between.
Working the crime beat had tarnished her view of relationships. Growing up without a strong father figure in her household didn't help. She felt lucky to have met Michael once more in Paradise Hill. They both seemed to share so much and had their eyes open to the darkness in the world. Tess didn't have to explain how she felt about things, because Michael shared her vision and sentiments. They were comfort to each other.
Tess felt she could face the darkness in the world that she explored in her articles because Michael was there, waiting at home or on the phone if she needed to talk or ask a procedural question. Most of all, she felt safe with Michael. He was a good guy, a good man, who wanted to fight the darkness.
She was lucky, and she knew it.
She called Craig's cell but her call went right to voice mail.
He was probably not up to taking calls and was trying to avoid talking to people. She pulled up to the apartment block where Craig lived and parked on the street, glad there was a free parking meter. She plugged it full of quarters and went to the front entry, searching the keypad for his name. She pressed the buzzer and waited. In a moment, she heard a tired male voice, garbled by static.
"Yes?"
Tess cleared her throat, feeling awkward now about stopping by. "It's Tess. Kate asked me to come by and do the interview. Get some background on Rachel."
"I wondered who they'd send," Craig replied. "I'm glad it's you. Come on up."
The buzzer sounded and Tess pulled the door open, entering the small foyer with a bank of mailboxes on the wall. Beneath it on a bench was a collection of shopping flyers and a stack of free community newspapers. The building was well-kept and clean, smelling of fresh laundry. Tess could hear dryers from down the hallway when she entered the main floor and walked along the hallway to Craig's first floor apartment.
She arrived at Apartment 112 and knocked on the door. She could tell Craig looked through the door's peephole for the light from behind it was cut off momentarily. A chain lock was removed, and a deadbolt turned before the door opened wide to admit her. In the entry stood Craig and he looked a real mess, his hair standing on end like he just got out of bed, his eyes bloodshot, an old bathrobe thrown over a pair of jeans and bare feet.
"Hi, Tess," he said, sniffing. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Had he been crying when she arrived?
She glanced at his face but as usual, he avoided her eyes and stared off to the left.
"Hey," she said and came inside. He closed the door behind her and stood there, like he didn't know what to do next. "How are you? You must be sick about all this."
He nodded without speaking. "Come in. I was sleeping. Sorry."
"That's okay," she said and removed her boots and coat. "Thanks for agreeing to the interview."
"I'm glad it's you," he said.
"I'm glad it's me, too," she replied. He took her coat and hung it up in the front closet and then led her deeper into the apartment. She followed him to a small living room with a pair of sliding doors opening out onto a green space at the rear of the building. The furnishings were old but comfortable. The place looked like a woman lived there, with a lace cloth on the coffee table, knickknacks on the dark wood mantle over the fireplace, throw pillows that brightened up the room. Black and white photos of the city covered one entire wall. They were Craig's photos, and showed the darker side of Seattle. The back alleys, the abandoned buildings, the old waterfront with rotting wood pillars sticking out of a grey Elliott Bay, the water rippled by wind, the sky overcast.
She turned and looked at Craig, who stood by an overstuffed chair like a zombie, his eyes staring off into space. He looked a mess, bleary-eyed, exhausted. Defeated.
Was he also a killer?
All her instincts told her he wasn't guilty. This was a man who feared for a missing loved one. This wasn't a man who was trying to hide his guilt.
But her instincts had been wrong before, so she exhaled, sat down on the sofa and pulled out her recorder. She held it up.
"Do you mind if I record our session? It ensures I get things correct. For the record."
He shrugged and glanced out the window. "Whatever."
"Please have a seat," Tess said. "Relax. I'm a friend, Craig."
He sighed heavily and then sat across from her.
"Tell me about Rachel," Tess said, hoping to give him the chance to talk about her without any restrictions.
"Rachel is," he said and shook his head. He glanced out the window. "Rachel is my life." Then, he cradled his head in his hands and wept.
Tess felt terrible, seeing Craig like that, crying so openly.
"I'm sorry," she said in a soft voice. "This must all be so upsetting to you."
He appeared to get a hold of his emotions and wiped his eyes but stared at the floor. "It's my fault."
Tess frowned. "What's your fault?"
"We had a fight," Craig said and held his head again. "She wanted to move away, and I wanted to stay in Seattle. It's where my work is. I can't just move to somewhere new at the drop of a hat, but she said I could get a job doing anything. Janitor. Construction worker. I can't just go somewhere and get a job. This is all I know. You can't just move away and get work as a photographer and that's all I'm really good at."
"She wanted to move away? Why?"
"I don't know," he said and shook his head. "She said her past was catching up with her and she needed to move. But it's the middle of the school year and Sadie was really happy with her teacher and friends."
"So, you fought about moving away from Seattle," Tess repeated. "Then she left? Packed up and left with Sadie?"
Craig nodded. "She said she was going south to Oregon. She had some money saved and was going to drive until she found a nice little town in the mountains with a good school and find a place to live."
"You were going to stay in Seattle?"
"What can I do in a small town in the middle of Oregon? I can't get work there. I work for the Sentinel. Sometimes, I sell my photos to stock companies, and I can do industrial photography, but I can't really do portraits or weddings or anything like that. It's not my thing."
Tess nodded, knowing that it would be hard for Craig to deal with people in general. He could photograph subjects of a news article as long as it wasn't posed and was natural, like he was in the background capturing a scene. Dealing with the public would be too hard for him.
"So, she left on what night?"
"I was at work on Friday at a crash site, taking photos for the paper. I got home early and she came home after being out somewhere. She didn’t say where. She packed up and wanted to leave then and there, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t." He shook his head. “It’s all my fault.”
His head went back into his hands again and he cried silently. Tess went over to where he sat and placed her hand on his shoulder.
"I'm so sorry about this," she said. "You must be afraid for her."
"The police called me. They found my car up near Mt. Baker and wanted me to give a DNA sample. One of the cops who interviewed me swabbed the inside of my cheek. What was she doing up there? She said she was going south, to Oregon."
"Did she have friends or family up there?"
"Not that I know of," he said and shook his head. He wiped his eyes again. "We used to drive up there to see the mountains. She liked to see the volcanoes, but she said she was going south. She always told me her family was from Montana. They're a bunch of survivalist nuts. You know, one of those sovereign citizen groups that keep to themselves. They're waiting for the second coming or world war three."
"Do you know where she's from exactly?" Tess asked, jotting a question down on her notepad.
"She just said Montana. She said they were all crazy and that she was lucky to escape when she did. I don't know. They're survivalists who expect a civil war in America to announce the rapture or something nuts like that."
Tess frowned and wrote down survivalists. Montana. She needed to do some reading on survivalist groups in Montana for background.
Craig told Tess about meeting Rachel while they were working a story on missing and murdered girls and women in Seattle. When he spoke, Tess could hear emotion in his voice. How Rachel had made it easy for him to talk to her. How it was nice to have a little ready-made family to look after. How Sadie wanted a father-figure so badly and had sat with him for hours reading books and doing her homework.
What Tess got from the interview was a man living in fear for his girlfriend and her daughter's safety. She didn't get a man putting on an act. With Eugene, he was always so relaxed and friendly. Easy to talk to. He was charming, always saying the right thing in any situation. Except when he was alone, at home with Kirsten. Then, Kirsten said, it was like Eugene was empty. Hollow.
It just didn't feel like Craig was performing.
"Someone must have abducted her. Maybe someone from her past, like she said. She said her past was catching up with her. I asked her to explain what that meant, but she didn't want to talk about it. I should have gone with her. I should have," he said and finally looked up and into Tess's eyes. "It's my fault. I have a bad feeling about this. A bad feeling."
Tess shook her head. "It's not your fault. You couldn't be expected to just pack up and leave with no notice."
"If I agreed to go with her, she and Sadie would be safe and sound. Now, who knows where they are?"
Tess gave Craig a look of compassion, but there was nothing she could really say.
Craig glanced at his watch. "I have a shoot," he said. "Down by the docks. I have to get ready."
Tess stood, gathering up her things. Craig looked like he was glad to have an excuse to stop talking about it and she didn't blame him. He was torn up inside about it -- or he was a very good actor.
"Can I come back and talk some more?" she asked. "I want to ask more about Rachel. What she said about her past. Where she worked. Her foster family."
He nodded. "Sure. I get off work late tonight because I'm taking photos of the game, and I'll be working all day tomorrow. I'm off in the morning day after tomorrow. We could meet somewhere else or come here."
"It's up to you. Whatever you prefer."
"Maybe we could do it here? I've been staying in the apartment, waiting for her to call or come back home. Now, I don't think she will be." Then, he covered his eyes once more and fought his emotions.
"I'll go," she said and stood by his side, squeezing his arm.
"Thanks, Tess," he managed. "Call me when you want to come by."
"I will."
She saw herself out of the apartment and went back to her car, a knot in her gut at the pain she'd heard in his voice and seen on his face. He couldn't be responsible, could he?