Chained Guilt (Hidden Guilt (Detective Series) Book 1) (24 page)

45

I grabbed a Kleenex from the side table. Using it to prevent leaving my prints behind, I slowly reached down and picked up the severed finger. It was thin and feminine-looking. I studied it for several moments, frowning, before I glanced again at the box it had been sent in. I noticed a piece of paper folded into the bottom. I placed the finger back in the baggie, grabbed another tissue from the box, and carried both box and baggie upstairs to my bathroom. The light was better there, and the last thing I needed was for the girls to come home and find me sitting there with my little “gift.”

I set the box and the baggie on the counter and rummaged through Miranda’s vanity for the tweezers. I reached the tweezers into the box to retrieve the note. Using the tissue and tweezers, I unfolded the note and spread it flat on the counter.

I scanned the note with growing disbelief. The note said the finger was Miranda’s. The finger showed no signs of decay, meaning Miranda had to be alive when the finger was severed. I stood, allowing a rush of emotions to surge through me: hope, despair, joy, and a deep, deep agony. I forced my attention back to the note, which ended with a strange phrase: “
Come on and play, come on and play. No one will believe a word she’ll say.
”

I sat down on the bed, my legs no longer able to support me. What if this was true? Was this really Miranda’s finger, or was someone still playing a cruel game with me? Did I dare hope Miranda was actually alive? And what did the nonsense at the end of the note mean? I was beyond confused. If Miranda was alive, why was someone keeping her? Why would he wait so long to begin taunting me? The more logical explanation was the finger came from another body and had been frozen or preserved somehow. This guy was good. He knew which buttons to push and, even better, knew exactly when to push them. Every killer leaves a trail; I just needed to figure out where to look.

I ran my fingers through my hair as I paced across the bedroom. I had more questions than answers. I wanted to tell the girls there was hope their mother was alive, but before I could even think of doing so, I had to determine if the finger was Miranda’s. I did my best to bury my emotions and willed the cop in me to take over. I pulled my cell from my pocket and dialed the captain. After two rings, he answered.

“Hey, Cap, it’s Porter.”

“Porter, what can I do for you?”

I skipped the pleasantries. “The asshole who sent us the last package has sent another one, this time to my house. A finger in a Ziploc bag.”

“What?”

“There was a note inside saying the tissue is still alive. There’s no way the tissue would be alive if . . . The finger looks fresh, Cap.”

“David . . .” Then Captain Wilcrest swore. “If I had to guess, I would say the kidnapper didn’t like us officially closing the case the other day. I think we rattled him.

“If the DNA from the finger matches Miranda’s, it only tells us she was still alive when the finger was severed. And if, as you said, the tissue hasn’t decayed, it could mean she’s still alive. But where is she, and, more importantly, why is someone still holding her?”

“I’m thinking it might be our child-killer,” I said. “This is personal. The notes left at the scenes of those crimes were directed at me as well.”

“The cuts made on the kids were surgical, too,” the captain added. “We knew that much already. He’s smart. He’s also a sick bastard.”

I sighed, my thoughts in turmoil. ”We need to figure it out and determine for certainty whether the cases are connected.”

“I’ll send a unit to pick up the evidence and get it over to the lab,” Captain Wilcrest said. “I’ll get them to priority test it, David, and then we’ll know for sure.”

When I didn’t respond, he continued. “You’ll be okay? If the finger does turn out to be Miranda’s, you shouldn’t be involved. Conflict of interest and all.”

To hell with conflict of interest
, I thought. “I’m fine. Let’s just determine if the finger came from Miranda. We’ll go from there.”

I lied to Wilcrest and told him what he wanted to hear. I wasn’t okay. Not by a long shot. I carried the box and its grisly contents downstairs and stored it in the back of the refrigerator until the officers came to pick it up.  I had to know whether Miranda was dead or alive. Even the slightest possibility that she was alive caused my heart to pound with excitement, with hope, with utter relief at the very idea that we could get through this nightmare. I reined in my thoughts and focused on the task at hand. Wait for the DNA results, and then catch the asshole. I sat on the couch as my emotions brewed.  It wasn’t long before the doorbell jarred me from my wishful thoughts. 

I slowly rose to my feet and headed for the door. To my surprise, I opened it to find Detective De Luca on the other side. I stared. She carried a small Igloo. A wisp of dry ice vapor oozed out of the lid.

“Don’t look so excited to see me, David. Geez.” She tilted her head and stared back at me. “Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to ask me in?”

“Oh yeah. Come on in. I’m sorry.”

“So what do you want to do about this?” she asked as she stepped inside the foyer. “Are we reopening the case?”

“Well, that will be up to Cap,” I said. “At any rate, we won’t publicize this package. No need to give this maniac the glory by doing that.”

I sighed as I led her through the dining room to the kitchen. “While my rational self doesn’t think she’s alive, and I think this asshole’s getting off on making me wonder, there is the possibility—”

“But David . . . never mind. I’m not going to push you on this.”

“I appreciate your concern. I guess I’m really still trying to process it all. It’s hard to make heads or tails of all this. I swear, if I’m quiet enough and lie still long enough, I can hear her heartbeat in my mind.”

I glanced at De Luca, but she didn’t meet my gaze. “I know that sounds stupid, but—”

“David, I know losing her so suddenly, and in such an awful manner, must have been terrible beyond belief. But I honestly think she’s gone. You gotta quit doing this to yourself.”

I pulled the box out of the fridge and gently placed it in the cooler for the trip to the lab. Whoever’s finger it was, it deserved respect.

“Here’s what I think happened,” De Luca continued. “I think he cut the finger off before he threw her into the lake. This was obviously with the intention of doing what he’s doing right now—torturing you.”

I remained silent.

“There was a serial I helped track a few years ago, and he did the same thing,” she said. “You know how sick some of these guys are, David. You’ve been a detective long enough to know irrational people do irrational things. You’re trying to rationalize this and you can’t.”

I didn’t know what to think. The finger was fresh. Would it look so vigorous after months on ice? I doubted it. But with all the new technology out there, anything was possible. One thing was certain—whoever was behind this was sinister and very, very clever.

46

“Well, girls, we’ve almost spent our first full day together, so what do you think?” Stacy asked as she started her car. “Am I really all that bad?”

She’d hoped to win them over and kill them with kindness, and she was pretty sure she had after all she’d bought them. She could pretend to be a good girl . . . if that’s what it took.

“I don’t suppose so,” Hilary said with a laugh.

“You don’t suppose?”

“I’m kidding. You’re pretty cool, I guess. Thanks for all the clothes you bought me and the pedicure,” Hilary said.

Of course, Stacy knew Hilary could play nice too, and it was doubtful she’d gotten over the park episode of a few days ago. Still, the jaunt to the mall had served its purpose.

Stacy pasted on a smile and drove the girls back to the house. Ever so slowly, her plan was coming full circle. She had almost completely infiltrated the Porters’ lives. She had David right where she wanted him. Best of all, she was forcing Miranda to watch it all; she couldn’t have scripted it any better.

As Stacy pulled into the driveway, she noticed a car parked at the curb.  Then she saw David on the front porch with Detective De Luca, who reached out to hug him. David returned the gesture, a smile on his face.
What the hell was the bitch doing here
?

She had barely turned off the car before the girls climbed out with their bags. David approached to help, but Stacy kept her eyes on De Luca as she paused by the car and said hello to the kids.

David reached for one of the bags Karen struggled with and turned to the detective. “De Luca, thanks for everything. I’ll catch you back at the station.”

De Luca nodded and continued down the driveway. Stacy glowered at her, certain she’d seen a smirk on the detective’s face.

“So, did you girls have a good time?” David said.

“Yes, we did. Looks like you had a good time too,” Stacy snapped as she nudged her way past him toward the house.

“David, don’t hesitate to call if you need anything else. You have my number. Don’t be afraid to use it,” De Luca said, waving as she slid into her car.

Stacy watched David acknowledge the comment with a nod.

              “Daddy! Daddy, look what I got!” Karen jumped up and down as she pulled her father into the house behind her.

“Good job, cupcake.” David smiled down at his daughter.

After they made several trips back and forth to the car, David eyed the pile of bags on the couch.

“Stacy, all this stuff must have cost you a fortune,” he said.

“They’re good girls, David. Nothing wrong with doing something nice every now and again is there? I don’t have daughters of my own to spoil, so is it okay if I spoil yours?” She cocked her head and eyed him. “I might have gotten something for you too!”

The girls promptly gathered their booty and headed to their rooms to sort out their new clothes. Stacy knew David was probably waiting for her to ask about De Luca and why she’d been at the house. She certainly wasn’t going to be the first to bring it up. The anticipation and suspense was killing her.

“Can we talk for a second?” he suddenly said, glancing upstairs to make sure the girls were still in their rooms.

Here it comes
, Stacy thought, holding back a grin.

“I don’t really know how to talk to you about this, but I’ll try,” he began. “You know we had pretty much closed Miranda’s case, but things keep popping up. We’ve received a few new pieces of evidence and potential clues.”

He paused with a sigh, shaking his head. “Think me crazy, but there’s a part of me that thinks she’s still alive out there.” He glanced at her. “I really don’t know what to think.  I mean, I know how crazy that sounds. I don’t want to mention any of this to the girls right now, but I’m kind of torn.”

Stacy was beside herself and struggled to contain her glee. This was even better than she’d expected, listening to him grovel about his poor Miranda. Now she would begin to play with David’s mind even more. She’d wanted to make David emotionally dependent on her, and so far her plan had been successful. Time to kick it into high gear.

She feigned sadness. “So what are you saying, David? You want to break up with me? I mean, if you want to, I understand.” Stacy glanced down at the floor to hide her smile. Then she gathered herself, forcing tears to her eyes.

“It almost sounds like you want me to make this easy on you and just walk out of your life.”

“Stacy—”

“I’m right here in front of you, David. Whatever is going on with the case is just to throw you off—throw everyone off. No one can magically be alive after so long, David. She had an accident. She’s gone, baby. If you need more time, I understand, but I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”

David stood in silence for several moments, staring down at her. She put on her most sincere expression and waited.

“What the hell am I thinking?” he finally muttered. ”You’re right. Miranda is gone. You’re standing right here, waiting.”

He leaned down and kissed her.

“There. How’s that for wanting to break up?” he said. “Good enough? I’m just really confused. The asshole keeps sending stuff, taunting me about Miranda. If it makes you feel uncomfortable, I won’t talk about it with you.”

“I can understand your confusion and where you’re coming from, but I don’t think it would help our relationship for us to be talking about the case.” Stacy mustered a fake grin. “David, will you let me love you?”

He didn’t have to say a word; his expression said it all. Oh, how badly she wanted to laugh out loud, right there in David’s face. Mr. Super Cop had been even easier to fool than she’d hoped.