Blood Stained (10 page)

"But you put the pieces together. You figured out the one thing they all had in common," Jenna prompted. "The ones he released."

"I got lucky. Because the link had nothing to do with geography." Lucy's gaze drifted, searching the gray-brown landscape for something she couldn't see. "The survivors were all pregnant."

"But why?" Jenna persisted. "I mean, I'm glad those women lived, but why did he let them go? It's so damn risky. Was he trying to populate a cult?" She shook her head and answered her own question. "No. Then he'd keep the kids and their moms with him. Like Warren Jeffs or David Koresh."

The postal inspector was silent as she thought, her lips puckered together like she'd swallowed something sour and couldn't get rid of the bad taste. "When we're profiling serial bombers or stalkers using the postal system, we look for tells. These guys like attention, so they keep offending. Each time we learn more about them. Not your guy. Your guy stayed in hiding. If he wanted attention all he needed to do was dump the bodies. How many victims did you find in New Hope?"

"We found DNA matches to three women reported missing. Plus DNA too degraded to definitely identify at least six others." 

Who knew how many DNA traces that time, the acid in the limestone caves, and the killer's liberal use of bleach had eliminated? Not to mention how many other crime scenes were scattered up and down the entire East Coast.

"Nine presumed dead and seven living witnesses and no one even realized this guy was out there." Jenna blew her breath out. "They should've given you a medal."

Hamilton traded her a promotion and the chance to keep her job instead of the official reprimand she should have gotten. In return for his taking the glory. Small price to pay.

"You still didn't answer my question," Jenna continued. "Why let the pregnant women go?"

Lucy hesitated. Her answer was nowhere in the official report—not even in her unofficial notes. No one outside the Bureau knew about her linking the pregnant victims. Without DNA from the rapist and the children, there was no proof that they actually
were
linked. 

But she had a theory. The only person she'd ever told was Nick and then as a vague theoretical abstract with no mention of New Hope. Nick agreed with her, though. That said a lot.

"I think he followed the kids. Monitored them and the moms."

"Monitor? Like a stalker maintaining control over his victim?"

"No." Lucy steered them around a hairpin curve. A vista of snow covered fields rippled out before them, framed by evergreens climbing up mountains on both sides. "I don't think it was about controlling the victims. I think he wanted the kids alive. I think the kids were his trophies."

"Trophies?" Jenna's voice trailed off as she caught the full implication of Lucy's words. "Like a serial killer reliving the crime by keeping souvenirs from their victims?"

Lucy took advantage of a straightaway to meet the postal inspector's gaze. "Exactly like that."

"Why? To see if they'd grow up as twisted and perverse as he was?" Jenna sucked in her breath with a shudder. "But wait. Do the kids know? Who their father was, what he was? Do they even know they have half-brothers and sisters out there?"

Finally the truth was out. Four years ago she'd threatened to go to the press, but Hamilton had stopped her. Now she was regretting that. "No. It was a multi-jurisdiction nightmare and with the Unsub dead, the case was closed. No one ever followed up with DNA testing on the children, much less opening the field to see if there were more kids out there. No budget, no manpower, and no one wanted to be responsible for ruining those kids' lives."

"But still." Jenna shook her head with a tiny jerk that sent her ponytail bobbing. "If your dad was a serial killer, wouldn't you want to know?"

Lucy had no answer for her.

<><><>

Jenna had already paved the way with the Huntingdon County Sheriff's office and arranged to talk with one of the deputies who worked the original case at the New Hope substation. Lucy dropped her off there glad the postal inspector's curiosity eclipsed her desire to find Adam.

"Shouldn't be hard," Jenna said as she swung out of the passenger seat. "Not in a town too small to have its own zip code."

Post office humor. Not helpful. Not when there were dozens of unmarked logging roads winding through miles of forest, secluded fishing camps along the streams, and all those hidey-hole caves inside the mountains themselves. Lucy hoped it didn't come to that. She could live her entire life without venturing inside another cave. 

Her side burned as if in warning. 

"Call me if anything comes up," Lucy said. "If you can. Cell reception is pretty spotty out here." They hadn't seen a tower since Alexandria. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Lucy tried Adam's home first. It had once been a tidy two story brick house sitting on the outskirts of town, its backyard an open meadow with a large gnarled maple in the center—what Lucy's dad had called a "fairy tree"—and a barn converted into a garage on one side. At the edge of the meadow thick trees extended up the side of the mountain, framing the homestead with a Norman Rockwell promise of a simpler life.

Having grown up in a small, rural community not much bigger than New Hope, Lucy knew the lie behind the promise. A lot of hard work went into supporting a family out here where jobs were scarce. Even more work if you were trying to carve a living out of one of the small farms hemmed in by agri-business behemoths. But still, Clinton Caine had managed, juggling long-distance hauling with his wife's cancer treatments, trying to be home for his family when he could.

Crushed by the weight of that day four years ago when he'd arrived home too late to save his wife. 

As soon as Lucy parked in the driveway, the blacktop cracked with weeds, she realized no one lived here anymore. Like so many properties they passed on the way to New Hope, a foreclosure sign sat out front skirted by unmown grass and faded with weather—maybe a few years' worth.

Just because no one still lived here didn't mean no one had come here. Adam was on his own; he might return to the only home he'd known.

Lucy left the Taurus and walked to the front door. Locked. The windows were dingy with grime, revealing empty walls and naked wood floors beyond. A few scraps of newspaper and a cardboard box tipped on its side. No signs of vandalism or squatters. Or Adam.

She trudged around to the rear of the house. The wind off the mountain forced her to bow her head as she passed a cement slab porch and the back door to the storm cellar. It had metal doors designed to be weather-tight, but there a slight gap showed between them. She tugged on one side, throwing her weight into it. Unlocked. The hinges protested with sharp squeals, but finally relented, allowing her to open the door two-thirds of the way. Enough for her to get through.

Grabbing her Maglite, she looked down the cellar steps. No footprints she could see, but the steps were rough concrete and might not have held an impression. No movement except for her light. The air was thick, musty with age. A strange mix of coal dust and old paper.

She pushed her weight against the door again, forcing it open farther so gravity would prevent it from snapping shut and trapping her inside. After what happened the last time she was in New Hope, dark, dingy places were not her forte.

Shuddering against errant memories, she placed her hand on her weapon and sidled through the gap in the door. The Maglite's beam was helpful for the small area it illuminated but didn't protect against shadows lunging from either side of her. She was surprised to find herself short of breath. Not from lack of oxygen but from hyperventilating.

Focus. Stay calm. Not as easy as it sounded—even the voice in her head sounded panicked. 

She stopped six steps down, stooped to clear the top of the slanted doorway, and swung the light around, confronting those shadow demons.

An old coal-burning furnace was the culprit behind most of the shadows. A short refrigerator, curved on top with a single door, also contributed. As did a washer and dryer both piled high with stacks of books. More cartons of books perched precariously on sagging wooden shelves, balanced on a Ping-Pong table faded to gray, and nested among the rafters overhead.

The faint skitter of mice accompanied every movement of the light. Lucy dusted a cobweb away from her face and searched for a light switch. None near the steps but a string hung just a few feet beyond the bottom. She grabbed it and pulled. No luck. Electricity long since shut off.

A clear path between the boxes ran from the outside stairs to the inside ones and branched off to a door beside the furnace. Great hiding place for an ambush, so she started there. The door was metal, an exterior door, heavy duty, hinged onto the basement's outer wall. 

She pulled it open, light and gun both at hand, then laughed at herself when she saw the bookcase with rows of Mason jars covered in dust and cobwebs. Root cellar. Her gram's house had one as well, dug into the hard packed dirt of the foundation, a tiny cave that stayed the same temperature all year round. 

As she wove her way through the stacks of books, Lucy realized there was a design to their placement. The cartons formed walls between imaginary rooms. 

A small area near the refrigerator and tub sink had a short stack of magazines in the center as if it was a table to eat on. Another area beside it was littered with comic books and pulp fiction novels alongside a deflated and dusty air mattress centered below a second light bulb. Bedroom? And back in the farthest corner an old toilet sitting behind a shower curtain streaked with black mold and spider webs.

Had someone lived down here?

Maybe Adam?

She bent low and examined the floor. The only disturbance was visible tracks left by tiny mouse feet. Swiping a finger along the stack of magazines created a thick furrow of dust. No one had moved any of this stuff in years.

Not where Adam hid now. But the area had the feel of kid about it. The need to add structure to the empty space, as if nesting. Or hiding. Maybe things hadn't been as happy in the Caine household as she thought.

She wished she'd been to the house four years ago, interviewed Adam and his father on their own turf. But Mr. Caine had been out of town on a long distance haul, so it was Adam running breathless along the road who flagged her down after his mother's carjacking. 

The scene of the crime was just outside of town, past the school. The attacker had taken Marion Caine's beat up Pontiac and forced Adam out of the car. Lucy and a Huntingdon County deputy were first on scene and the deputy asked her to help out, "seeing as this could be connected to your case and all."

At the time, Lucy doubted any connection. Her Unsub had been active for at least ten years without raising a blip on the radar. Not the type for a spontaneous daytime snatch and grab. 

But the kid's story broke her heart. And Huntingdon County needed all the help they could get to stop the carjacker before he harmed Marion Caine.

Everyone's hopes for a successful outcome were dashed when they found Caine's car abandoned near the Stolfultz farm. The county deputies immediately mobilized a search, but from the looks on their faces, it was clear they were thinking recovery rather than rescue.

Lucy agreed. The statistics did as well. But no one could bring themselves to give up on Marion. Not while her ten-year-old son was right there with them, begging for them to save his mom.

Adam ended up with Lucy as they began the search. She worried about him, tried to send him back, but it would be hours before either his father or child services made it to the scene. Besides, he knew the terrain, he boasted. Had walked every inch of these mountains, hunting with his dad.

Lucy spotted the van but it was Adam who heard the screams. He rushed inside Echo Cavern before she could stop him or call for backup.

Absolute black. That's what she remembered best. She grabbed a flashlight before chasing after Adam, but given the immense weight of darkness, it was useless. Made her more of a target than it helped her spot any potential danger, but she couldn't bring herself to turn it off.

"Adam!" Her calls echoed back and forth, swirling around her, playing blind man's bluff.

Then the screams came. Women. She followed the sound and found two young women, naked, chained by iron collars around their necks. The old-fashioned collars were secured by handcuffs to the thick chains bolted to the cave wall. A lucky break—although Lucy realized later it was simply a convenient way for the Unsub to reposition his victims as his fancy led him.

She released the first girl who refused to leave without the second girl. Knelt beside her, stroking her hair, calling her name. "Rachel, it's okay. Rachel, we're saved."

The second girl, in addition to the chain around her neck, lay on her stomach, each wrist handcuffed to the opposite ankle, her limbs contorted behind her in a way that must have been excruciating. Yet she never made a sound.

Lucy led them to the car, told them to wait for the backup she'd called. Was tempted to do the same. But she had no idea how long it would take the deputy. And Adam was in there, alone in the dark. 

She nearly didn't make it past the threshold. The weight of the darkness almost pushed her back outside. Megan's face kept filling her vision. Megan was around the same age as Adam. If she'd been lost in the dark… The thought gave her the courage to plunge back into the black.

Crossing the chamber where she found the girls, shadows crushing her, that's when he knifed her. He moved through the shadows so fast she never saw him. Just the shove and the burn of the blade slicing her flesh. 

She lunged after him, but he was gone before she could aim the light at him, much less her weapon. Then her light caught sight of Adam on the opposite side of the cavern. 

"Hurry. He's got my mom. Hurry. You have to save her."

Lucy tried. Tried to hurry. Tried to save Marion. 

But the rest of what happened in that cave, well, the last thing she needed was to keep re-living the rest. Not when she should be concentrating on finding Adam and helping him.