‘What?’ Deacon exploded. ‘That cabin is under federal jurisdiction.’
Williamson put his hands up. ‘The Feds are there too. They’re duking it out.’ He shook his head. ‘They found four bodies, just like your caller told you, Detective Bishop.’
‘The caller was Marcus O’Bannion,’ she told him. ‘He went in the first helicopter. Who’s the fourth victim?’
‘A woman who meets the description of Elise Lasker, who disappeared – along with her red truck – from a hospital in Cincinnati early this morning. The Fed up there asked me to tell you that the truck’s been added to the BOLO. He said that other than removing the floorboards, they’ve touched nothing and are in communication with . . .’ He pulled out a notepad. ‘Sergeant Tanaka and Agent Taylor. Those names sound right?’
‘Yeah,’ Deacon nodded, relieved. ‘Good to see everyone playing well in the sandbox.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far. Anyway, they’re waiting for you two. We’ve got the scene secured here. I’ll make sure whoever processes this scene checks for the shooter’s blood.’
‘Tell them to check around the front of the Subaru,’ Deacon said. ‘Can you tell us the fastest way up to the cabin?’
Williamson pulled a folded map from his pocket. ‘You can pick up the road that’ll take you there about a mile north. I marked it, here.’ He gave them the map, then tipped his hat to Bishop. ‘Let me know if you need anything.’
‘Ready to play peacemaker in the sandbox?’ Deacon asked her.
Bishop shook her head. ‘No. I’m tired and hungry and if they behave badly, I might just take a shovel to them.’
‘I almost wish I could see that. Meet you there.’
Mt Carmel, Ohio, Wednesday 5 November, 2.15
P.M.
Faith watched nervously as Tanaka took photos of the dumbwaiter door and the faux cabinet that had covered it. She didn’t
want
to know what was back there. But she
needed
to know. For every woman who’d died here, she needed to know.
‘Are there any other spaces like this?’ Kimble asked.
‘Not this big, no, but there are other dumbwaiters in the fireplace mantels all over the house. The side opens up. My mother said they used to bring up firewood that way in the old days – and coal too, until my grandfather installed central heating. I know there was a laundry chute. A safe in my grandfather’s office. And a crawlspace in Gran’s sewing room. Family legend has it that there was a tunnel, too, because this house was part of the Underground Railroad, but my mother thought that wasn’t true.’
‘I can’t comment on the Underground Railroad part, but the tunnel is probably there,’ Sophie said. ‘Our GPR scan showed the remnants of what looked like an old tunnel outside. It appeared to have a cave-in about ten feet away from the house, so I don’t think it’s usable anymore. It’ll be in my report. I was focusing on any readings that might be bodies first.’
‘Exactly what we needed you to do,’ Tanaka said as he cut through the lock on the dumbwaiter door.
‘Let’s see what’s in here and then we’ll check the other places,’ Kimble said. ‘Vince, hurry up. The suspense is killing me.’
Tanaka pulled the door open, revealing nothing but black, empty space.
Faith almost cried with disappointment until Kimble said, ‘Clever,’ once again.
Kimble reached into the empty space and pulled out a densely woven chain, painted black. He tugged on it experimentally, then nodded. ‘He keeps it oiled.’ He pulled more chain, raising a tray into the empty space. It was bigger than a cafeteria tray, but empty.
He continued to pull and a second tray rose up, also empty. It nested with the first, a few inches above the upper border of the doorway, like collapsing window blinds. A third empty tray followed. And a fourth, which was not empty. Not at all.
‘Oh God,’ Kimble said quietly. ‘Looks like we found his collection.’
Faith refused to look away even though every instinct she had was screaming for her to
run
. The fourth tray was filled with jars. The jars had big dark . . .
things
floating in them.
‘They’re labeled,’ Tanaka said heavily. He aimed a beam of light at one of them. ‘This one says “Heart of Simpson”. She’s one of the victims the ME has already identified.’
He resumed pulling on the chain until the tops of the jars on the fourth tray met the underside of the third. Seconds later, a fifth tray appeared, and then a sixth.
‘More jars,’ Faith whispered.
Dozens of them.
Labeled with the likes of ‘Heart of Parker’, ‘Lips of Smith’, ‘Thumbs of Dreyfus’ and ‘Brain of McCall’.
‘How many trays are down there?’ Sophie asked softly.
Tanaka shook his head. ‘I don’t know. But I think there are some above, too.’
And then he pulled up a new tray, loaded with jars. The ink on the labels was dark black. They looked brand new. ‘Heart of Dupree’. ‘Tongue of Dupree’. Roxanne Dupree.
Roxie.
‘Oh God.’ Faith backed away, her stomach roiling like an angry sea, her throat burning from bile. Her eyes stinging with tears. ‘I need some air.’ She made it to the hall and sat heavily on the third stair from the bottom, scooting over when Sophie followed her out.
Sophie took the stair below and dropped her chin to her chest. ‘Don’t feel bad,’ she said, her voice muffled. ‘I’ve been digging up the dead for years and this is hard for me, too.’ She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and started flipping through photos, all centering around one blonde pre-schooler and a black-haired toddler who looked about a year old.
Faith found herself drawn to the comfort of those photos. ‘Your kids?’ she whispered.
‘Yes. Anna is four and Michael will be a year old on Christmas Eve.’
‘They’re gorgeous,’ Faith said. ‘You’re lucky.’
‘I know. I look at them when I get overwhelmed with all the death. There was a mudslide in Central America last summer . . . These faces were all that kept me going. And this one, of course.’ She flipped to a man with dark good looks, and a naughty gleam in his eye. ‘My Vito.’
‘He’s very handsome. But maybe a little uncontrollable. Like a rogue pirate.’
Sophie’s laugh was unsteady. ‘That’s him to a T. Do you mind music?’
Faith blinked. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Do you mind if I play a little music? I’ve got earbuds in my coat pocket if you’d rather.’
‘As long as it’s not hip-hop,’ she said, and Sophie laughed again.
‘No.’ She chose a song from her playlists and a second later the air was filled with the most beautiful baritone Faith had ever heard.
‘Oh.’ Closing her eyes, she let the music in, let it soothe her. And when the final notes faded, she found her cheeks were wet. ‘I need to buy that song.’
‘You can’t buy it, but I’ll send it to you. My husband sang that at Anna’s christening.’
‘You are very lucky indeed.’
‘I know. Deacon and I listened to this song a lot last year when we were digging up graves in West Virginia. It helped him, too.’
Faith met her gaze. ‘He’s going to be upset with me. I wasn’t supposed to come here without him. He’s worried I’ll get shot – or get the person standing next to me shot.’
‘Then why did you come?’
‘Because Lieutenant Isenberg asked me to and Detective Kimble was willing to take the risk. It gave me a chance to
do
something. I’ve felt so helpless. It’s not only the ten victims but their families, too. So many destroyed lives.’
Sophie hesitated. ‘Not ten, Faith. I’d just finished scanning the last of the interior when you all came down the stairs. I found seven more bodies in all.’
Seven more
. ‘Seventeen bodies,’ Faith whispered.
Here. In her grandmother’s house.
‘Roza’s mother could be one of them.’
‘Or maybe Roza’s mother is still alive and with Roza and Corinne.’
‘If
they’re
still alive. I’m starting to lose hope.’
‘Don’t lose hope!’ A smiling Tanaka ran from the torture room, nearly skidding to a stop at the stairs. ‘We just got the call from Isenberg. Corinne is alive!’
Faith pressed her fingers to her mouth, tears of relieved joy springing to her eyes. ‘Where?’ she whispered. ‘How? Who found them?’
Tanaka’s smile dimmed. ‘Not them. Just Corinne.’
The air slammed out of Faith’s lungs, leaving her reeling. ‘Roza’s dead?’
‘She was recaptured. Corinne managed to get her from your uncle’s cabin to the main road, through nearly twenty miles of forest, but a man in a ski mask showed up at the same time as two would-be rescuers – your cousins, Stone and Marcus. Ski Mask shot Marcus and Corinne and got away with Roza.’
‘What about the other cousin?’ Sophie asked.
‘Stone was already injured. I’m a little fuzzy on those details.’
‘What were Stone and Marcus even doing there?’ Faith demanded. ‘Did Corinne identify her abductor?’
‘No. She never saw him,’ Tanaka said. ‘She and your cousins are en route to Cincinnati General by helicopter. That’s all I know so far.’ He turned to get back to work.
Faith took a moment to let her mind process the news. ‘Poor Roza . . . He’ll kill her. She knew he would when she helped Arianna escape, but she did it anyway.’
‘Pretty brave for eleven years old,’ Sophie said softly.
‘Pretty brave for any age.’ Faith pushed herself to her feet. ‘If Arianna was here, she’d want to take a look at the dug-out room, so I’ll do that for her.’
And maybe say a prayer for little Roza.
‘And then I’ll ask Kimble to take me back. It was nice to meet you, Sophie.’
‘Likewise, but what’s this about a dug-out room?’
‘It’s at the end of the passageway. Didn’t Tanaka tell you?’
‘Yes, but I didn’t understand that it was an actual room. I thought it was just a crawlspace, so I haven’t scanned it yet. I’ll take a look with you.’
A minute later, Sophie was hunched down and grimacing. ‘It
is
just a crawlspace, Faith.’
Faith followed her into the little room, swallowing back new tears as she took it in. ‘It’s where she lived with her mother. Deacon told me that there was a blanket here, with a thin pillow. Roza slept here.’ In the cold darkness.
God, please. If nothing else, please help this child. She deserves a life
.
‘Deacon found a box here,’ Kimble said from the doorway, startling Faith. Kimble didn’t try to enter, he was too tall and there wasn’t enough room. ‘Inside was a ratty old hairbrush, a battery-powered light, and a T-shirt. It was either all she had or all she had time to pack.’
Sophie swept the beam of her flashlight over the floor, studying it with a critical eye. ‘Or maybe all she wanted to admit she had. There’s something buried here, under where her blanket was. The ground is slightly curved. Same over here, next to where she slept. Let me do a scan and see what’s here before we start digging.’
Kimble backed out and Faith and Sophie followed. In the hall, Sophie stretched with a groan. ‘I’m glad I’m not claustrophobic. That was a tight fit.’ She held out her hand. ‘A pleasure, Faith. Don’t be a stranger.’
‘Are you leaving?’ Kimble asked Sophie.
‘No, I am,’ Faith said. ‘You wanted me to help you find the hidey-holes.’
‘I do. We found one. We may need your help again. Can you stay for a little while?’
Faith shrugged. ‘I suppose so. You have Internet here, right?’
‘A satellite hookup, yes,’ Kimble said. ‘Why?’
‘I brought my laptop, so I can work here. I recognized at least two of the names on the jars as scholarship recipients. I’ll write down the others and start checking against the list.’
‘What is this about?’ Sophie asked. Quickly Faith explained and Sophie’s eyes grew wide. ‘He’s hunting from the scholarship pool. Sonofabitch. You go do your job and I’ll do mine. I’ll let you know if I find anything back in that room.’
Faith straightened her spine before going back to the room with all the jars. She’d return their identities to them, so that Deacon could get them justice.
Eastern Kentucky, Wednesday 5 November, 3.00
P.M.
There were enough law enforcement personnel at Jeremy’s ex-wife’s cabin to run a small country, Deacon thought as he and Bishop walked along the long line of parked vehicles. A few of the state troopers had gathered around the car parked closest to the house – the red Corvette they’d seen outside Jeremy’s guest house the evening before.
‘It’s registered to Stone,’ Bishop said, ‘but Marcus must have driven it up here since they switched places at the bar last night. Ever think about driving one of these, Novak?’
‘Only once,’ Deacon admitted dryly. ‘They had to pry me out with a crowbar.’
Bishop chuckled, but quickly sobered as a balding man in a black suit and tie met them at the door. ‘Bishop and Novak,’ she said briskly.
‘Special Agent Hudgins,’ he said, holding the door wide open. ‘My office was closest to the scene so I got tapped to secure it for you Cincinnati guys. But I have to tell you, this wasn’t what I expected when I got the call to come out here.’
‘What did you expect?’ Deacon asked, sliding his wraparounds off his face so that he could do a visual check of the cabin interior. The place was a mess – the contents of drawers lay strewn on the floor and dirt was piled next to an open grave. Four faces stared out of the shallow hole, three older and one who was far too young. Mikhail Yarborough, Jeremy’s son.
‘When I saw the red Corvette parked in front of the house? A meth lab or mountains of oxy pills, even a field of pot. Not four bodies under the floorboards and a jar of eyes.’ Hudgins blinked once when Deacon turned to look at him. ‘But . . . regular eyes. Not like yours.’
Bishop coughed, but her expression remained serious.
‘Where are these “regular eyes”?’ Deacon asked.
‘Look under the bed. We haven’t moved anything yet.’
Deacon swept the tails of his coat aside as he went into a crouch, Bishop right beside him.