Closer Than You Think (39 page)

He looked down. ‘You’re going to suspend me for this, aren’t you?’

‘You bet your bloomers I am. But we might be able to make some kind of deal. Why were you attempting to break into my teachers’ emails?’

‘I was going to change Renzo’s grades. I just wanted him to fail. I just wanted him gone.’

Ms Pohl looked concerned. ‘Why? Because he called you names?’

‘Isn’t that enough?’ Greg asked petulantly.

‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s not. And I don’t buy your story. You know we would have noticed a grade change. What were you really trying to do?’

‘Fine. I didn’t just
attempt
to access the email server.’ Greg looked away, but his lip trembled, reminding Deacon of how young he really was. ‘I did it.’

‘Why, Greg?’ Deacon put his hand gently on his brother’s back. ‘What did you do?’

‘I sent emails from the nurse’s account to all of Renzo’s teachers. Told them that one of their students had a health issue. The teachers’ aides see their emails. They talk.’

‘You knew the aides would compare notes,’ Deacon said, ‘and then they’d see which other teachers got the same email and figure out which student had all those classes. They’d point the finger at Renzo and the gossips would do the rest. Not a bad plan, actually.’

‘Deacon Novak!’ Pohl exclaimed, annoyed.

Greg studied his brother and Deacon knew that how he handled the next few minutes would be pivotal to their relationship for the rest of their lives.

‘Well, it is,’ Deacon said. ‘Disinformation is very Mission: Impossible-esque. What health issue did you give him? Exploding diarrhea?’

Greg cocked his jaw. ‘HIV.’

Deacon exhaled quietly.
Oh God.
‘Why?’

Greg swallowed hard. ‘Because Renzo found out. He was going to put it online.’ Tears shimmered in his eyes, one blue, one brown, just like Dani’s. ‘I couldn’t let him do that.’

Now Deacon really understood. ‘No, I couldn’t have either. How did he find out?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t tell anyone. Honest. I wouldn’t do that. Especially to her.’

‘I know you wouldn’t,’ Deacon said calmly. ‘I thought maybe he told you how he found out when he was taunting you with it.’

Gratitude flashed in Greg’s eyes. ‘I wanted to hurt him,’ he whispered, ‘but mostly I just wanted to make him stop.’

‘I know.’ Deacon rubbed Greg’s back as he’d done Faith’s last night. ‘I understand.’

Pohl was watching them both. ‘
I
don’t understand. Found out what? About whom?’

Greg shook his head again, but said no more.

‘Dani wouldn’t want you to get in trouble for her,’ Deacon said. ‘Tell Ms Pohl. Let her help you stay in school. You deserve more than a GED and a dead-end job.’

Pohl went very still and Deacon could see the moment she truly understood. ‘This is about your sister? She’s . . .? Dani has HIV? How?’

‘That’s her business,’ Deacon said stiffly. She’d been so young then, barely older than Greg was now. And she’d listened to the boyfriend who claimed to love her and claimed to be clean. The bastard had lied on both fronts and Dani’s life was forever changed. All of which was her goddamn business. ‘Which is the point of this, Ms Pohl. Somehow Renzo found out about her medical history and was going to use it against her.’

‘Of course it’s her business,’ Pohl murmured. ‘I’m sorry I asked. It was just so unexpected. Oh Greg. What have you done, son?’

‘What I had to do. Renzo would have ruined my sister’s career and she worked too hard to become a doctor. She never hurt a soul in her life. He was laughing at her. Telling his friends. Saying she had to be a slut or a junkie to have HIV.’ Greg looked down at his clenched fists. ‘He said once a junkie always a junkie, and that he’d make her share her stash with him. Even if he had to beat her senseless to make her tell him where it was.’ He looked back up at Pohl defiantly, tears in his eyes. ‘But now everyone is saying the same things about him. Now anything he says about Dani or anyone else is being laughed off.’

Deacon closed his eyes.
Dear God, this is a mess
. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Greg?’

‘I didn’t think you’d believe me. I was in so much trouble and you left your job to come home.’ The boy was crying in earnest now and Deacon’s heart broke. He put his arm around his brother’s shaking shoulders. ‘I just wanted to make him stop.’

‘I understand. Sshh.’ Deacon looked at Pohl, who looked like she’d aged twenty years in the last few minutes. ‘Now what?’

‘I don’t know.’ She pressed her fingertips to her lips for a long moment, thinking. ‘Well, the reaction of the other students makes a lot more sense now. Greg hit the other boy in the nose, the kid’s blood went spewing and everyone ran. Greg’s made Renzo a pariah.’

‘Sounds like he deserved it.’ Deacon wanted to find the hairy ape and hit him all over again.

‘I’ve never had anything like this happen. I don’t know what punishment is in order.’

‘Just expel me for the fight,’ Greg said, and Pohl gave him a knowing look.

‘But not for the hacking? You don’t want anyone to know that you set him up.’

‘No, I don’t. I want him to suffer and I want him to pay.’

‘What should we do, Ms Pohl?’ Deacon asked. ‘This kid Renzo threatened to expose the fact that my sister – who never hurt a soul – has HIV, which could damage her career. Then he threatened to beat her up. The threat of violence cannot go unpunished.’

‘I agree with that.’ She rubbed her temples. ‘Take your brother home, Deacon. I’ll consult with the school’s attorneys and see what the recommended course of action is.’

Deacon looked at his brother’s young face. ‘If we can fix this so that you stay in this school, do you want to?’

Greg’s eyes narrowed, his mouth hardening. ‘Yeah. I’ll stay.’

‘That may not be possible, Greg,’ Pohl said. ‘I may not have any choice but to expel you. Tampering with records is a privacy issue. Law enforcement has to be called. This is bad.’

‘He didn’t tamper with anyone’s actual medical records. He tampered with email.’ Deacon squeezed the back of Greg’s neck. ‘We’re going to hire an attorney. We’ll fight any attempt by the school to expel him.’

Pohl stared, astonished. ‘But . . . surely you can’t condone what he did.’

Greg looked astonished too. ‘
We’re
getting me a lawyer?’

‘Yes,’ Deacon said firmly. ‘
We
. And when Dani finds out about this? She’ll help us find the best damn lawyer in town.’ He looked at Ms Pohl. ‘No, ma’am. I don’t condone any part of this. What Greg did was wrong, but he did it for the right reasons.’ He stood up and motioned Greg to follow suit. ‘Come on, kid, I’m taking you home.’

Greg hesitated at the door, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. ‘To Aunt Tammy’s?’

‘It has to be Tammy’s. Your room’s not ready yet. I still have painting to do.’

‘I don’t have anything else to do for a while. I can paint.’ Greg looked down at his shoes. ‘Don’t make me go back, D,’ he whispered. ‘Tammy’s going to have another heart attack over all this and it’ll be my fault. I already caused her enough trouble. Let me go home with you.’

But Faith is there. In my bed
. Hopefully getting some much-needed rest. He thought about what he’d prefer to be doing with her in his bed. Which was most likely unwise.

Not that he really cared.

Therein lay the problem. He simply did not care what was wise when it came to Faith Corcoran. He sighed silently. Having the kid around might be just the deterrent he needed to taking the too-much-too-fast relationship to the next level. And at least there would be bodyguards on duty in case trouble followed Greg home.

‘Okay. The rest of the painting is up to you.’ He put his arm around Greg’s shoulders. ‘Let’s go home. Ms Pohl, you’ll let us know what the school’s action will be?’

‘As soon as I know,’ she promised. ‘Greg, we’ll figure this out somehow. And Deacon, don’t get shot anymore, okay?’

Deacon forced a smile. ‘I’ll do my very best.’

They said no more until they got to Deacon’s car. ‘You gonna tell Dani?’ Greg asked softly.

‘Don’t you think she has a right to know? Not only what you did, but what might be coming her way? Renzo did tell people. Her secret won’t be a secret for too much longer.’

Greg typed a text on his phone. ‘I just asked her to meet us at your house.’

‘Our house. Give me a second to catch up and we’ll head home.’ Deacon checked his phone, wearily scanning the voicemails, texts and emails that had accumulated while he was in Pohl’s office. Both of Faith’s uncles had returned his calls. Alda Lane had kept her word. Jordan sounded like he’d sobered up and was frantically concerned about Faith. Jeremy, the med school professor, sounded unmoved. Both said they’d be available to meet with him at any time of the day and both demanded answers about the activities at their old house.

Deacon would call them back when he could deal with their questions without a fifteen-year-old hanging on his every word.

I’m so tired.
He scrolled through the rest of his messages, thinking once again about Faith asleep in his bed, now wishing he could join her there to just sleep.
Must be tired
, he thought. At least when he finally did get to close his eyes, the scent of her would be in his sheets. It wasn’t anywhere close to the real thing, but it would have to do until this was over.

And then he found the email she’d written.
Take care
.
I’ll be waiting.
Everything within him settled. For once, someone was waiting for him. Just for him. She might not stay long, but for now he let himself steep in the feeling.

Chapter Nineteen

Mt Carmel, Ohio, Tuesday 4 November, 12.35
P.M.

Scarlett Bishop knocked on the door bearing the sign ‘Maguire and Sons’, but there was no answer. The office’s exterior was identical to that of its neighbors in the business complex. Standing outside the door, she called the number she’d been given for the maintenance business, but didn’t hear any phones ringing inside.

That in and of itself wasn’t damning. Many people used cell phones exclusively these days. But that the doorknob was coated in a layer of dust set off alarms in her mind. No one had been here for quite some time.

She dialed Crandall next. ‘Hey, it’s Bishop. Can you look up a company for me in the business registry? Maguire and Sons. I need to know if it’s legit.’

‘Just a sec.’ Crandall’s keyboard clacked in the background. ‘It’s registered as a general contractor. Business was created in . . . 2002. President is listed as John Maguire of Batavia.’

Batavia was the next town over. ‘So it’s legit? Because I’m standing here outside their office on Maple Street and it doesn’t look like anyone’s touched the doorknob in weeks. Do they have another location?’

‘No, Maple Street is listed as their only location. You think it’s a sham business?’

‘I think it’s convenient that the only people who were supposed to have been in that basement over the last ten years are not here. I’m going to ask around, see if any of their neighbors have seen them. Get back to me with what you find.’

Scarlett tried the door to the next office, an accountant’s firm. It opened right away, revealing a fiftyish woman sitting behind a receptionist’s desk. Her name plate said ‘Carole Winston’. ‘Can I help you, ma’am?’

‘I hope so, Ms Winston. I’m Detective Bishop, with the Cincinnati Police. Do you happen to know the people in the office next door?’

Winston frowned. ‘I can’t say I do, Detective. They keep to themselves.’

‘When did you last see them?’

‘A long time ago. Several months, at least.’

‘Do you remember who you saw?’

‘They’re criminals, aren’t they? I was afraid of this. I thought it was strange that they’d pay the rent and never occupy the space. Well, let’s see.’ Ms Winston put on her glasses and opened her calendar. ‘I saw the receptionist the day I was leaving for the doctor. That would have been last August. I remember because I was in such a hurry that I didn’t take time to talk to her, which I normally would have, for simple curiosity alone. When I came back from the appointment after lunch, I heard a man next door. He had a deep voice. It boomed.’

‘Do you remember what he said?’

‘No. I couldn’t really hear him, just the bass of his voice. He was big, I remember that.’

Scarlett fought to keep her expression neutral. ‘You saw him?’

‘Yes, for a minute. I’d gotten up to go next door to introduce myself to the receptionist once he’d gone, but right after that, she left.’

‘She? The receptionist?’

‘Yes. I figured we could do lunch some time. I went out my door and saw she was locking up. I introduced myself and she got this look on her face. Like a scared rabbit. She mumbled something under her breath and took off. I thought then that they might be criminals, but I didn’t want to seem like a silly old woman by reporting them.’

‘You may have been smart to suspect them,’ Scarlett said. She Googled Herbert Henson the Third on her phone and chose the photo that hung on Henson’s office wall. ‘Is this the man?’

Ms Winston took off her glasses to stare at the photo up close. ‘Yes, but he wasn’t dressed that nicely. He wore a polo shirt and khakis.’ She paused a moment. ‘And gloves. He had white gloves in his back pocket. And golf shoes.’

‘Golf shoes?’

‘Yes. Black and white. With spikes.’ Her mouth tipped up sadly. ‘My late husband used to wear the same pair.’

So Henson the Third didn’t meet Maguire at the house after all.
He’d probably dropped off the key and gone to play a few rounds rather than spend his afternoon in a musty old house.

‘This is very helpful, Ms Winston. Can you tell me about the receptionist?’

‘She was late twenties, early thirties maybe. She had dark hair and covered it with a baseball cap. She was average height, maybe five-six. Average weight. I’m sorry, Detective. She was . . . average.’

‘No, no, don’t be sorry. You’ve been incredibly helpful. Do you remember her eyes?’

‘Scared. They may have been brown or dark blue. I didn’t get that close.’

‘Do you think you could describe her to a sketch artist?’

Winston bit her lip. ‘I could try. She wouldn’t have to know it was me who described her?’

‘She wouldn’t know,’ Scarlett assured her. ‘Can I call you when I have the artist lined up? In the meantime, here’s my card, just in case you hear or remember anything else.’

She handed over her card, then questioned the other tenants. Ms Winston had been the only one to ever see anyone coming in or out of the office. The others had varying theories about who Maguire and Sons were, but most agreed they were shady.

On her way back to her car, Scarlett spied the building owner’s sign on the office’s outer wall, advertising their empty office units for rent or lease. She dialed, crossing her fingers that they’d be helpful without a warrant. Sometimes she got lucky.

‘Grice Hill Realty,’ a woman answered in a nasal voice. ‘How can I help you?’

‘This is Detective Bishop, Cincinnati PD Homicide,’ Scarlett said. ‘I’m hoping you can help me with an ongoing investigation. Can you tell me who’s leased the property at 2826 Maple Street, unit 2-B? That’s in Mount Carmel, Ohio.’

‘If you’ll give me your badge number, I’ll be happy to call you back with the information after I’ve verified your credentials.’

Scarlett suppressed a sigh. The woman was within her rights. She gave her badge and cell phone numbers. ‘Thank you. This is very urgent. I appreciate any expediency you can muster.’

Getting in her car, she buckled up and relaxed into the seat.
So tired
. She hated Halloween weekend. A goddamned serial killer would have to pick this week to act.
Just when we’re so tired we all just want to sleep
.

Maybe that was it, she thought wearily. Maybe he’d picked this weekend
because
he knew the police force would be busy with partying college kids.

She’d started to note it in her log when her cell phone rang. ‘Bishop.’

‘It’s Carrie Washington.’

Now we’re cookin’.
Washington was the ME, and a damn good one.
Maybe we’ll finally get something useful.
‘You got something for me? Please say yes.’

‘Oh yes. You and your partner need to get down here as quickly as you can.’

‘I’ll let Agent Novak know. We’ll be there ASAP.’

Cincinnati, Ohio, Tuesday 4 November, 1.20
P.M.

Deacon found Bishop pacing outside the autopsy room. He’d come directly from Greg’s school, bringing his brother along and leaving him to scowl in the waiting room. ‘What’s up?’

‘Don’t know yet.’ Bishop tossed him goggles and a mask. ‘It ain’t pretty in there.’

‘I didn’t think it would be,’ he said as he covered his eyes, nose and mouth. ‘Not with ten bodies in various stages of decomp. I can smell it from here. Ready?’

She nodded, a little green around the gills. ‘On three.’

Deacon followed her in, grateful that the eggs he’d eaten for breakfast had already digested. Mostly. He hated the morgue almost as much as he hated the thought of more unmarked graves.

Both autopsy tables were occupied. Dr Carrie Washington was examining a body on the table closest to the door. The victim’s dirty, tangled blonde curls looked familiar. This victim was the third they’d uncovered. She’d been under the floor of the room with the cot.

Washington looked up, her dark eyes unnaturally large behind the magnifying goggles she wore, the white of her mask a stark contrast to her dark brown skin. ‘We’ve identified two of the bodies you sent us from the basement. This victim is Roxanne Dupree, twenty-two years old, Caucasian, a senior at the University of Miami. She’s his most recent kill of the bodies we’ve found so far. She’s also been—’

‘Wait,’ Bishop cut in. ‘You mean Miami U, right? Miami of Ohio. The University of Miami is in Florida.’ She glanced at Deacon. ‘Miami U is in Oxford, not far from Dayton.’

The back of Deacon’s neck itched. ‘I know all about Miami of Ohio,’ he murmured, studying the face of the victim. ‘I got my undergrad there.’
She can’t be from Florida. Can’t be from the city of Miami
. That put this killer way too close to Faith. Again.

‘I meant what I said, Detective Bishop,’ Washington said. ‘This victim was alive and enrolled in school in Miami,
Florida
, as of three weeks ago.’

‘How did you ID her?’ he asked. ‘And how do you know she was alive three weeks ago?’

‘I submitted her fingerprints and AFIS came back almost immediately with her name. She has a record for shoplifting. She spent a night in a Miami jail three weeks ago.’

‘She got jail time for shoplifting?’ Bishop asked, incredulous.

‘We can ask Vega to get us her background,’ Deacon said. ‘We need to know if her path crossed Faith’s at any point. God, I hope not.’

‘Vega is a Miami PD detective we’ve been working with,’ Bishop explained when Washington’s brows lifted in question. ‘Should we be asking her to check on IDs for the other bodies Tanaka found? Maybe the killer took them together, like he did Corinne and Arianna.’

‘You can and should try,’ Washington said. ‘But I can at least tell you that Ms Dupree wasn’t taken with the others. At least not with this one.’ She moved to the next table. The next blonde whose life had been brutally stolen. ‘Susan Simpson went missing two summers ago.’

Both Deacon and Bishop stared, first at Washington, then at the body. Decomp looked nowhere near that advanced. ‘Are you sure?’ Deacon asked.

‘Maybe she just ran away,’ Bishop added. ‘Maybe she went on a long vacation and crossed paths with Dupree down in Miami.’

Washington carefully lifted the woman’s hand and pointed out the faded orange stamp. ‘She went to the Wild Wave water park and their season ended on Labor Day, so time of death would have been no later than that. Except that Wild Wave discontinued this ink two years ago.’

Deacon frowned at the body. It looked far too good to be that old. ‘How did you ID her?’

Washington laid the victim’s hand down with a gentleness that earned her Deacon’s respect. ‘She was a cop. Had just started with Butler County Sheriff’s Department.’

‘I remember that case,’ Bishop said. ‘Her photo was on every TV station, every station wall . . . But she doesn’t look like she’s been dead for two years.’

‘That’s why I called you in. These women have something in common.’

‘Yeah,’ Deacon said. ‘They’re all blonde, in their twenties, and they’re all dead.’

‘They’ve also all been embalmed and expertly prepared for burial – including a viewing.’ Washington went back to Dupree’s body and pulled the sheet down. ‘They’ve all been autopsied as well, but the sutures are small and expertly done.’

Bending closer to the body, Deacon could see the tiny stitches that ran up Dupree’s torso, forking into a Y on her chest. ‘Someone knew what they were doing.’

‘Exactly. Every organ has been removed, including their eyes. Did you find them?’

‘No,’ Bishop said. ‘We didn’t find anything like that. Yet. He’s either thrown them away or hidden them somewhere.’

‘I doubt he threw them away,’ Washington said. ‘I don’t know if the internal incisions are of the same quality as the external ones, but even if they’re half as good, this guy is a pro. If he took so much care in removing his victims’ organs, he’s unlikely to destroy them.’

‘Why take them?’ Bishop asked. ‘Why remove them to begin with?’

Washington pulled the sheet up to cover Roxanne Dupree’s face. ‘Because he could? Because he wanted to? Because he liked looking at them? To slow decomp so that he could look at them longer? Take your pick.’

Deacon stepped back, stilled his racing mind. ‘Faith’s uncle Jeremy is a surgeon,’ he said.

Bishop nodded. ‘I was thinking that. Did he call you back?’

‘Left me a voicemail saying that he’d make himself available for a meeting.’

‘Make himself available? That’s cold. Did he ask about Faith?’

‘No. I want to see how he lives, then talk to his colleagues and students at the med school. Can you determine cause of death, Dr Washington?’

‘Not yet. Susan Simpson has a scar on her calf. Probably a GSW. It wasn’t listed as a finding in the physical she took when she started her job with the sheriff’s office. She also has identical scars on the back of both of her thighs. Deep cuts. None are cause of death, though.’

‘He hamstrung her,’ Deacon murmured. ‘Maybe shot her to slow her down first, then hamstrung her to keep her from running.’

And
this
was the monster who was after Faith, he thought grimly.
Over my dead body
.

‘He’s taken three college students so far,’ Deacon said. ‘Roxanne, Arianna, and Corinne.’

‘But Arianna isn’t blonde,’ Bishop said. ‘So why her?’

‘I think he grabbed Corinne first, but Arianna came after him to help her friend. He shot her, then grabbed her too. Arianna’s abduction may have been unplanned. Circumstance.’

‘Makes sense,’ Bishop said. ‘We know that Corinne was military and has an exemplary record. I found certificates and medals when I went through her things. So Corinne and Susan are law-abiders, but Roxanne has a record. The only things the three have in common are that they’re all single, blonde and in the same age group. Beyond that, we’ve got nothing. We need college majors, hobbies, religion.’

‘And how and where he took them,’ Deacon said. ‘There must be a pattern, something connecting these victims.’