"Have You Seen Her?" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rose Karen)Chapter Thirty-three "Here it is," Kent said, breathing hard. "We got lucky. They'd just finished it." He pulled the newest DNA print from the envelope and held it side by side with the print from the Clary clearing. He swallowed and looked up and before he said a word Steven knew the truth. "They're a match, aren't they, Kent?" Kent nodded. "Whoever was in the Clary clearing was in Jenna's apartment that night." Steven thought of the girls, all pretty, long-haired brunettes with eyes almost the shade of Jenna's. "She was his target all along," he whispered. "Did she call back yet?" Davies asked. Steven shook his head, worry and panic eating him up inside. "Allison says she and Seth left a half hour ago. Seth didn't say where they were going." "Please tell me the man has a cell phone," Davies said grimly. Steven felt a hysterical laugh bubbling up from his gut. "Oh, yes, he does, but he's got it turned off. Allison said he and Jenna were going to have a talk and he didn't want any interruptions." Davies clenched his jaw. "If she's with Seth, she's all right. Try not to worry." Steven's own cell phone jingled. "Thatcher… Thanks, Liz." He disconnected and looked at his team, now gathered around him. "We have a warrant. Let's go pay the Parkers a visit." Seth stopped the car next to the grave Jenna hadn't seen in two years. "Get out, Jenna." She glared at Seth from the corner of her eye, her temper simmering. "I will not. I will not sit on that little iron bench and talk to someone who's dead. Dead, Dad. D-e-a-d, dead." Seth got out of the car and opened her door, then bent forward until they were nose to nose, and said firmly, "Then sit on the little iron bench and talk to me." He pulled her out of the car and onto the bench, looking at the marble gravestone. "It's pretty," she said softly. Seth sighed. "So what are you going to do, girl?" He was on his knees next to Adam's grave, straightening the flowers someone had planted there. Most likely Seth or Allison. "About what?" He fussed with a hearty orange chrysanthemum. "Well, about your living quarters for starters." Jenna lifted a brow, found it hurt to do so, and let it drop back down. "Are you evicting me?" He glanced up at her, a twinkle in his eye. "Well, there is Wednesdays. I don't think I want to be at the table when you sit down to Allie's meat loaf again." Jenna laughed, then surprised at the sound, let it trail away. "I love you, Dad." "Of course you do. I also heard you tell that young man you love his father." "You were listening!" "Of course I was. You never tell me anything. I have to get creative if I want to know what's happening in your life. Evelyn's doing much better by the way," he added, jerking the thunder from her ire. "The doctor says she can come home tomorrow." "Well… good," she mumbled. "Glad to hear it." "Thought you would be." He sat back on his heels and surveyed his work. "Not bad." Jenna looked at him, her heart softening. "It's the most beautiful grave in the cemetery, Dad." He smiled. "Thank you. But this place still creeps you out, doesn't it?" She choked on a chuckle. "Creeps me out? You been listening to Charlie's conversations, too?" "Gotta know what's going on with my girls. So what will you do about Steven, Jenna? He hurt you and for that I want to make his face look worse than yours, but he didn't mean to, I could see it in his eyes. Will you throw away happiness for the pleasure of holding on to a grudge?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "It's no pleasure, Dad." He shook his head at that. "Sure it is. Not the same kind of pleasure as a gallon of Rocky Road or a night of really good sex-" "Dad!" "But it's a pleasure all the same," he went on as if she hadn't interrupted. "It's control, or the appearance of it, anyway. You, my dear, are a control freak." She opened her mouth to utter a denial, then closed it. It was a fair cop. "So?" "So you can't control everything. You, Jenna, really, really try, but you can't. You try to control your grief over my son here." He patted the headstone. "You've never really let him go." " "I have to admit, I don't like the memorial dinners either," Seth said, propping his chin atop the headstone. "My wife started them and Allie just kept it up. But those aren't because we can't let him go, Jen. We're just remembering him. You're the one still wearing his ring on your finger." "I am not," she said, holding out her bare left hand, then realized she'd fisted her right. Her right hand where she still wore Adam's ring on her thumb. She held out her right hand and shifted it side to side, watching the waning light play on the Celtic curves. "I guess I am." Seth lifted a white brow, then held out his hand, palm up. "So take it off." When she didn't move he dropped his hand. "I can imagine loving a woman with another man's ring on her finger would be pretty hard. Might even make him wonder down deep if she really cared about him or if she was still holding a torch for her lost love. Which are you, Jenna?" "I…" She shook her head. "I don't know." "Fair enough." "But, Dad, it's not the same thing. Adam never would have thought the worst of me." ''Sure he would, and he did," Seth said firmly and stood up, brushing grass from his knees. "Why do you think he took up karate? He hated karate. I'll tell you why. He was jealous of Mark." "Mark?" Jenna asked incredulously. "That's ridiculous. Mark was Adam's best friend. Mark and I were "He knew that. He also knew you'd be true to him, but he wanted to be there, just be certain." "That's just ridiculous," she repeated, then thought back. It made sense. It really did. Adam did hate karate, but he went, every single week. "Maybe it isn't so ridiculous," she amended. "My son wasn't perfect, Jenna, but he loved you more than his own life. When he passed it was like losing the best part of me. But he left you behind and I love you like you were my own daughter. If you could make meat loaf worth a damn I might even love you more." Jenna snickered, as he'd wanted her to. "I never wanted you to come to Adam's grave and pine for him. I wanted you to go on and find someone who could make you even one-tenth as happy as my son would have." He cleared his throat gruffly. "So say good-bye to my son and get on with the job of living. If it's with Steven, then put your grudge aside, because your excuse is a terrible one. If it's not him, then make it somebody else real soon. Dammit, girl, I want more grandchildren and I'm not getting any younger." Jenna stood up and put her arms around him. "I love you, Dad." "I know you do," he barked, then quieted. "Do you love Steven, Jenna?" Jenna considered very hard, but the answer was amazingly simple. "Yes, yes I do." "Then go to him and tell him so." "I will, but I need to say something here, first. Would you give me a minute?" He smiled. "I'll check the graves over there. Their families don't come often as they should." And as Jenna watched him hike over the hill, she knew Seth Llewellyn did what he did out of respect and love, not out of a morbid eccentricity. She stared at Adam's headstone. "But Allison is eccentric, Adam. The memorial dinners creep me out and her meat loaf is like slimy cardboard. But they love you and they miss you." She tugged a stray weed Seth had missed. "And they've gone on, mostly. So now, I guess I will, too." She pulled off his ring and set it on top of the headstone. "Seth can keep this or maybe give this to Charlie when she's older. I'll always love you and you were never store-brand vanilla. Maybe Heavenly Hash." She chuckled at the whimsical thought. "And Steven is rightly classified as Rocky Road." She ran her hand across the letters of his name lovingly. "We'll smooth out the rocks. Don't worry about me. I'm fine. I'm really fine." "I don't think I'd go that far." Jenna whirled around and held on to the headstone when the world kept spinning. She blinked hard and brought a face into focus. And narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Josh, what are you doing here?" "You can't come in here!" Mrs. Lutz stood at her front door, clutching her collar to her throat. "We can, ma'am, and we will. We have a warrant." Steven pulled it from his pocket and handed it to her. He pushed past her, looking around, knowing he had uniforms covering every exit of the house in case any of the Lutzes decided to bolt. "Where is Josh?" She clutched her collar tighter around her throat. "He's not here." "And Rudy?" "He's not here either. I'm going to call my husband." "You do that, ma'am," said Sandra, right behind Steven. "Any limits to the warrant, Steven?" "None," Steven said with satisfaction. Liz had done an exemplary job. "Good old Liz," Sandra said affectionately. "I'll take Rudy's room." "And I'll take Josh's," Steven said, then turned when Mrs. Lutz screeched bloody murder. He was just in time to see the woman leap against Davies and pound her fists on his chest. Two uniforms pulled her away, wringing her hands. "You!" Mrs. Lutz screamed. "You ruined our lives by setting my son up in Seattle!" She leapt again and the uniforms pulled her back as Davies just stood there, impassively. "I never set up your son," Davies said calmly. "I simply targeted the wrong one." She went white at that and tugged at the restraining hands of the officers. "You're lying. My Joshua would never do anything wrong. It's all that bitch teacher's fault. She's to blame." "For what, Mrs. Parker?" Davies asked. She spluttered, then seemed to calm before their eyes. "For failing my Rudy. Neither of my boys touched her. She's a conniving liar if she says they did." "We're not investigating the school vandalism," Steven said mildly, his hand on the banister. "We're investigating serial murder." He had the unmitigated joy of watching Mrs. Lutz swoon. Steven trotted up the stairs, Davies close behind him. "Do you always make such devoted friends?" Steven asked. Davies shrugged. "What can I say? I'm unforgettable." They found Josh's room impeccably neat and clean. Davies walked right over to the nightstand and pulled a thick volume from the drawer. "Please tell me that's not a Gideon "No, it's Steven riffled through a drawer of socks. "Does it have comics like "No," said Davies. "Claudius was about twentieth in line for emperor of Rome. Everybody around him was being killed, so he played dumb so he wouldn't be perceived as a threat." He opened the book and flipped through the pages, then set it aside. "He outlived them all and became emperor. Ruler of the world." Steven pulled a sketch pad from beneath neatly folded shirts and held it up so Davies could see the pages of sketches of the prep school emblem Josh had tattooed on his victims' heads. "Look." "He was practicing," Davies commented, then pulled open the closet door and stopped. "Oh, my God. Thatcher." Steven pushed the drawer shut and came to look. And found the shrine to Jenna. Josh took a step closer and Jenna noticed the blood on his hands. "Josh, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Did your father or Rudy hurt you?" And then he smiled. "No." He lifted a brow and she knew something was different today. "Miss Marshall," he added. It was his eyes. Not blank. Not downcast. No sign of mortification. Sharper, somehow. It took her a minute. A full minute. Then she gasped. " "It was I," he said silkily and pulled something white from his pocket. "I'd thought to do this relatively painlessly, but you have really left me with no choice." Jenna glanced from side to side, panicked, remembering the strength of the hands that held her down that night. The sound of the knife slicing into the mattress where she'd been sleeping just moments before. Then she realized Seth was not there and her heart stopped. She took off toward the main road at a sprint and didn't look back. Then flew forward as something heavy hit her in the middle of her back. She hit the ground on all fours, a split second before she was pushed flat to the ground, his knee in her back. His hand came around to grab her chin, and her head was jerked back and she could hear his heavy breathing. "Don't make me run, Miss Marshall," he said, his voice rough and… uncontrolled. It was different than the night in her apartment, because that night he'd had icy control. She could only hope she could use that fact to escape. To get help. Then another face flashed in front of her eyes. "That's the way," he said soothingly. "Ten, nine, eight," she heard him counting. "Five, four…"' Then nothing. Steven pulled the string on the lightbulb and his gut clenched. The closet door was covered with photos, some cut from the Roosevelt yearbook. But most were snapshots of Jenna. Close-ups, above the shoulder shots with her apartment in the background. His blood ran cold realizing Josh Lutz had been stalking Jenna, watching her through her patio door. He thought about the neat hole cut in the glass. Josh had stalked her through that glass door, then came through it to try to kill her. "Sonofabitch," he whispered. Silently, Davies pushed back the clothing hanging in the closet to reveal more pictures. "Lorraine, Samantha, Alev, and Kelly," Steven murmured. Before and after. The after shots were taken at various angles. The photos of Alev showed Josh had experimented to get just the right layout of body parts before leading them to the clearing. "He's developing his own pictures, just like Jenna said. I wonder where his darkroom is." " Pills, Steven saw. Hundreds of little pills. He held one up to the light. "Mellaril," he said softly, then looked at Davies. "Pretty powerful antipsychotic. When taken consistently it can suppress cognitive function, sometimes down to the level of an eighty-five IQ. But somebody hasn't been taking his meds. And I bet you somebody's mother thought her boy was under control. But he isn't. Maybe he was, but he sure as hell isn't now." "That might explain why he took a sabbatical," Davies mused. "If he was on the pills during the years between Seattle and here." "And this stash would certainly explain the fact that he's started again. He stops taking his pills and acts like he's still dull-witted to keep anyone from realizing he's changed." "A la "But he must've gotten tired of pretending at some point," Steven said. "He wanted Casey to know he identified with the killer in Sandra appeared, wearing a generally disgusted look on her face. "I haven't seen so much porn in one bedroom since my vice days," she said. 'Too bad we can't arrest Rudy for that alone." "Take a number, Sandra. For now, bring up our mother-of-the-year. I want to see the look on her face when she sees all her precious baby's unswallowed meds." It was worth the wait. Mrs. Lutz's face went white with shock, then flamed red with rage when she saw the piles of unconsumed medication. "You thought you had him under control, didn't you, Mrs. Lutz?" Steven asked smoothly. "Or do you prefer to be called Parker?" "I am Mrs. Lutz," she said rigidly. "And I don't know what you're talking about. I have no idea who those pills belong to." Steven lifted a brow. "And if we look hard, we won't find a prescription on file?" She pursed her lips and said nothing, which said quite enough. Steven leaned close. "Where is your son, Mrs. Lutz? Where is Josh?" She stiffened. "I don't know." "Mmm. That's a shame. Then you don't know where he is to warn him we're here, waiting for him? I really hope not, because I'd hate to have that happen, to spoil the surprise. You see, I want your boy behind bars and I really hate to be disappointed." She straightened her body imperiously. "My son has done nothing wrong." "Do you recognize these girls?" Davies asked softly, holding back the clothing hanging in the closet. "Maybe you've seen them on the news. Three are dead. Your son has pictures of their bodies, something we haven't released. And I'll bet we'll find pictures of four Seattle girls as well.' She opened her mouth, then closed it again. "I'll call my lawyer now." Steven threw her a look of contempt. "You just do that. He'll need the time to prepare to defend your son against a death penalty sentence. Sandra, make sure Mrs. Lutz calls "I'm here." Kent stuck his head in the door. "Good. I want everyone focused on finding out where he's taking his victims. He's had Kelly Templeton for almost three days. He kept Samantha and Alev longer than that so Kelly may still be alive. I don't want him hanging any more pictures in his closet." Jenna woke with a horrific headache giving her the deja vu feeling of waking up in Allison's spare bedroom bed all over again. Except the ropes tying her wrists and ankles were brand new. And she was lying on a hard wood floor, not in Allison's spare-room bed. She opened her eyes and looked up. She was in a barn with a high loft. Then she remembered. The graveyard. Seth. Adam. Josh. Running, falling. The blood. Seth. She jerked her head to one side and recoiled in horror. She felt the burn of bile as it rose from her stomach into her throat. Nailed to the wall was… Hair. Human hair. Eight… heads of hair. All long and dark. Carefully braided and mounted below framed pictures of smiling girls. Four she recognized, four she did not. Then Josh Lutz came into view, his cheerful whistle an unsettling contrast to the macabre scene. In one of his hands was a hammer, in the other was another framed picture. He looked over at her and she saw he had a nail between his lips. He saw her looking at him and grinned, the nail dark against the white of his teeth. He slipped the picture under his arm and took the nail out of his mouth. "You're finally awake." Jenna said nothing. Didn't move as reality began to seep into her brain. As she stared up at him from where she lay tied on the floor, she remembered bitter words to Steven and Neil that morning. No way it could be Rudy, maybe his father, but not Rudy. They'd all been wrong. Josh Lutz was a killer. Not a nice boy. Not a victim of a dysfunctional family. Josh was grinning again as he pounded the nail into the barn wall. "I see you've noticed my decorating. I think it could use a woman's touch, don't you? You could help me spruce up the place. What do you think of my newest picture?" He held up the frame and Jenna's throat closed. It was her in the park. Laughing. She recognized the sweater as the one she'd worn to the park the day she'd spent with Nicky and Cindy Lou. He'd seen her with Nicky. "Good, I can see you like this one." He held the picture at arm's length and tilted his head. "You're very photogenic, Miss Marshall." " He frowned. "I don't do little boys. I'm no pervert." He lifted a brow at that as if what she'd said amused him. "No, not really. Everybody thinks I am, but they're wrong." He chuckled and hung her picture on a nail. "So were you. Poor little Josh needs special help." He made a scoffing noise in his throat and hunkered down beside her, fingering the fabric of her shirt, just to one side of her breast. She pulled back, but he just grinned again. "I could "You were in my apartment." He looked bored. "Of course I was. How else could I have held a knife to your throat?" "You stabbed my dog." His face changed, rage twisting his features. "I should have She narrowed her eyes. "You didn't know I had two. That's why you only put out enough poison for one." "I put out enough poison for two," he hissed, "wishing to kill one with a great deal of pain." "But Jean-Luc didn't get as much as Jim. He got you. Where did he bite you?" she taunted, not knowing if it would get her killed faster, but not wanting him to think he'd won. If she lay here silent, he would kill her anyway. His eyes flashed. "Shut up." She cried out when his hand came crashing across her cheek, pain spearing her head where it banged against the wood floor. "I like you better asleep." No. Not again. She didn't want to lose consciousness again. He looked surprised, then philosophical. "Your boyfriend told you, huh?" "I found the missing chemicals." He stood up and walked toward the wall behind her, where she couldn't see him. "I know. I found your inventory last night. Stuffed it in my pocket. Didn't want anyone else to know." "It's too late for that," she called, still not able to see him. "I told the police." She heard his bored chuckle. "You told your boyfriend. That man is too stupid to tie his own shoes, much less find me. I had to draw him a damn map to find the girls. Right, Kelly?" Jenna's body tightened. "Kelly?" "Oh, yes," he said mildly, still behind her. "She's here, but I don't think she can talk right now." "You killed her." Jenna felt a hysterical sob building, but shoved it back. "I will, but I haven't. I'm not done with her yet. Besides, I think I'll have a little fun with you first, then let you watch me kill Kelly so you can see firsthand what will happen to you.'' He appeared over her, tall and grinning, a syringe in one hand. "Kind of like… foreshadowing. Yes, that's what Miss Ryan called it." He knelt beside her and laid the syringe to one side. "Did you hurt Casey? Were you the one who cut my brakes?" she asked, trying to roll, to scoot, to get away, but he just held her down with one hand. Effortlessly. "Don't be ridiculous. That's not my style at all. If I'd wanted to hurt you, you would have been hurt. My brother's friends cut your brakes, ineptly as usual." "What's in the needle?" she asked, trying to make her voice cocky, but failing miserably. She heard her own fear and so did he. With a confident grin he grabbed her arm and with a pair of scissors cut her sleeve at the shoulder, then ripped it from her shirt. "You already guessed it, Miss Marshall. It's Special K." "Why? Why the drugs, Josh?" He tied a rubber band around her arm and tested her vein with his thumb. "You know, I've given that considerable thought myself. I think I just got so damn tired of doctors pumping me full of shit that I decided to have a little payback." Jenna struggled, wildly now, and he frowned in irritation. "Hold still. I don't want to hurt you. Not yet anyway." He grunted and held her down with his knee. " Jenna stared up at him, feeling her body grow numb. "What…?" He sat down next to her, cross-legged, and carefully capped the syringe. "Ketamine has some pretty cool effects, Miss Marshall," he explained, now sounding incredibly like a teenager. "When you're going under you're suggestible and when you come out, you'll dream." He smiled. Satisfied. "You'll dream whatever I tell you to dream. Because I'm in charge here." Jenna struggled, but only in her mind now. Her body was frozen. "Sweet dreams, Miss Marshall," she heard him say. Then nothing. The darkroom was in the small closet of an unused bedroom and what Steven found there chilled his blood. Pictures, hundreds of pictures in stacks, hanging from drying lines. He plucked one off the line and his heart plunged. It was he and Jenna. Together. Shots above the waist, but they showed… He swallowed, remembering the night very well. He'd practically torn the sweater from her body in their passion and she'd wrapped herself around him, her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, pressing her warm breasts into his chest. But he didn't have to rely on his memory. Josh Lutz had captured everything in full color. "Steven." Sandra was behind him and she carefully took the pictures and placed them in a folder. "We'll take them as evidence, but I'll make sure no one sees them," she said softly. Straightening, Steven rested his hands on his hips and blew out a sigh. "Thanks. I'm kind of glad he's not here right now," he said grimly. "I might kill him myself." Sandra squeezed his arm and turned away to continue the search. Steven picked up another stack and felt adrenaline kick even as his stomach turned over. "Sandra, look. He's taken pictures of the girls' bodies, but inside somewhere. It looks like a barn." He flipped through the photos quickly. "Here's one showing a table saw." "The sawdust in Kelly's bedroom." "Yeah. And circular saw patterns the ME found on Alev's arms and legs." Steven flipped through some more photos. "Here's one with a window in view. The sun's coming up." "Or going down," Sandra said, her own voice tight with tension. "It faces a road. You can see a little bit of it through the trees here. Let me get this to the lab. Maybe they can get more detail." "The negatives will be here somewhere," Steven said, putting aside a stack of pictures, only to have the stack slide sideways. "Dammit," he gritted, moving to straighten the stack. Then a single print jumped out at him and he froze. "Oh, God. Sandra," he whispered and heard her indrawn breath as she looked over his shoulder. "It's Nicky. With Jenna in the park." "I'll get a cruiser over to your house right away." Steven put the picture in Sandra's steady hands, wishing his were. "Thanks." "Nicky's fine. He's with your aunt and we would have heard if there was any trouble." He nodded. Tried to breathe. "You're right. I know you're right." Still he remembered how it felt to know his baby had been stolen. It couldn't happen again. He wouldn't let it. "Go get some water, Steven," Sandra commanded. "You can't keel over on us now." Steven forced a grin. "Yes, ma'am." Then his cell phone jangled and Sandra stopped, two steps from the door. Her face went white and he could see she was thinking the same thing he was. His hands shaking, he answered, "Thatcher." "Steven." It was Nancy and her voice was frantic. Steven sagged against a wall of the darkroom. "Not Nicky. Please." "No, no, not Nicky. It's Jenna. She's gone." |
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