Deeper Than The Dead (29 page)

She laughed. He laughed.

But having spent too much time with killers, Vince couldn’t help thinking,
How did she know he hadn’t given her a phony name?
As he followed her into the back of the building, why would she think she wasn’t in danger just because he was friendly, had a sense of humor, apologized for frightening her? It only took about four minutes to strangle someone to death. He could have done the deed, left her in the back of the store, and walked out via the alley. No one would have been the wiser.

She opened the overhead garage door and sunlight spilled into the dark space.

“As you can see, there’s plenty of storage space back here, and easy access for delivery trucks.”

“And another door over here—”

“To access your parking spaces. I’m afraid there are only two. That’s the only drawback to being on the plaza—the lack of parking. But the pedestrian traffic more than makes up for the inconvenience.”

The door also led to Peter Crane’s parking spaces, Vince noted. Karly Vickers could have come out the back of the dentist’s office, been grabbed and dragged into this storage space. No one could see back there from the front windows of the vacant building. The walls of the building were brick with a thick coating of old-fashioned plaster—virtually soundproof.

Vince walked around the empty space looking for something, anything a victim or her abductor might have dropped. A gum wrapper, a cigarette butt, a stray hair. Nothing. The concrete floor had been stained over the years by oil and paint. A splatter here, a drip there. Did anything look like blood? No.

Industrial shelving lined two walls. Former tenants had left behind old paint cans, rags, assorted odd boxes of stuff. Nothing that looked useful to a killer.

He asked a couple of routine questions and listened to Janet Crane with one ear while he pictured what might have happened if Karly Vickers’s abductor had approached her in the alley.

She knows him. She feels safe, happy even. She’s had an exciting day. She has no idea she’s in danger until he puts a choke hold on her and pulls her into the vacant building.

It takes him a matter of a few seconds to accomplish the deed. He pulls her inside the building and ties her up. He glues her mouth shut to keep her from screaming. He leaves her until dark, when he comes back and takes her to the place where he will torture, rape, and eventually kill her.

It was a workable theory—provided Karly Vickers had exited out the back of the dental office. But Dr. Crane’s ever-efficient receptionist had stepped out of the office to take some bills to the corner mailbox that day, and hadn’t seen the young woman leave.

If Vickers had left out the back, and the assailant was as organized and methodical as Vince believed, Karly Vickers had not been a victim of opportunity. He had chosen her. Which meant he had to know she would be there.

That had to be a short list of subjects. Someone connected to the Thomas Center; someone who overheard her at the hair salon; the dentist; Frank Farman, who had written her a ticket on her way to the appointment. She might have told a friend, could have been overheard at a restaurant or standing in line at the supermarket . . .

Maybe not such a short list after all.

The garage door rolled down.

“And the lease is six hundred a month,” Janet Crane said.

“Great. That seems very reasonable,” Vince said, flashing the big smile. “Thanks for your time, Mrs. Crane,” he said, shaking her hand again. “I’ll definitely give it some thought.”

“Good!” she said, back to being a little too animated. She needed to leave him with that last good impression. “Your business would be a wonderful addition to the plaza. And I would be more than happy to show you some beautiful homes in town as well. I hope to hear from you again. Soon!”

She led the way to the front of the store, and Vince looked around at the space. Some warm yellow paint, old wooden display shelves filled with products imported from Italy, an espresso bar in the corner . . . As fantasies went, he thought, it was a good one.

Anne followed her students out of the building and watched them climb onto buses or into waiting cars. Not one child was being allowed to walk home.

Wendy’s father had come to pick her up. Janet Crane had come for Tommy. Anne ducked back behind the door to avoid being seen.

“Chicken,” Franny said. He grabbed her at the waist from behind and Anne gave a squeal of surprise.

“You’re just lucky I haven’t taken up a martial art,” she scolded. “You shouldn’t sneak up on women when there’s been a homicidal lunatic on the loose.”

“He probably doesn’t work at Oak Knoll Elementary,” Franny said. “Who were you hiding from?”

She rolled her eyes. “Janet Crane. I have never seen anyone more vicious or, frankly, out of her mind as she was in the office this morning. Shrieking about everyone she’s going to sue—including me, by the way.”

“You? What did you do?” Franny asked, outraged at the idea. She could have murdered someone with an axe and he still would have been the first to rush to her defense.

“I happened to be standing in the room.”

“She should kiss the ground you walk on!” He cupped a hand around his mouth and pretended to shout after the cars driving away. “C U Next Tuesday, Janet Bitch Queen!”

Anne elbowed him in the ribs, giggling. “Hush! What if Mrs. Barkow heard you?” she said, referring to the third-grade teacher pulling sidewalk monitor duty.

“Oh for God’s sake,” Franny said. “She’s a hundred and twelve. She’d probably die of excitement if somebody called her that. It’s been so long since she’s used hers, I’m sure it’s grown over by now. The Land That Time Forgot.”

“Oh my God. You are horrible!” Anne said, trying—and failing—not to laugh. “I love you!”

“Will you love me drunk?” he asked.

“Did you have a long day?”

“Honey, I teach kindergarten. Every day is a long day,” he joked. “Today I had one eat a crayon, one barf on the art table, and one poop in the sandbox and cover it up like a cat. Arnie the janitor had to put on his hazmat suit to clean it up, and then I had to explain to Garnett why we need all-new sand by Monday. How was your day?”

“Besides being threatened and verbally abused, I spent the day trying to explain to seventeen ten-year-olds why their classmate would have a severed human finger in his possession, and why people kill each other, and try to reassure them that they don’t have to worry,” she said, feeling the weight of every minute press down on her. “I spent the day wondering about Dennis Farman and what happened to him last night, and where was he today. Who’s with him? Is he alone? Is he going to get help?”

“There’s nothing you can do about Dennis Farman, honey,” Franny said soberly. “It’s not up to you.”

“But I seem to be the only one who cares,” she said. “And that breaks my heart. Garnett and the school board are only worried about liability. The sheriff’s office only deals with punishment. His parents created who he is. And social services probably won’t do anything because there’s no proof of abuse.”

“You called social services?” Franny said. “On the Farmans?”

“I felt like I had to do something,” Anne said. “At least if there’s a complaint, and they see Dennis and talk to him, maybe eventually someone will do something to get him some help.”

“You called social services on a sheriff’s deputy?” Franny said. “Are you out of your mind? Have you never seen a Women in Prison movie?”

“I’m not afraid of Frank Farman.”

“Well, you probably should be. He’ll bankrupt you with speeding tickets at the very least. Does Garnett know you did this?”

“No.”

“You need hard liquor,” Franny declared. “
I
need hard liquor. And lots of it.”

Anne nodded and tried to muster a smile, knowing her other option was to just lie down on the ground and cry.

“Margaritas at Cantina Maria?”

“I might have to catch up with you,” Anne said as Vince Leone pulled up to the curb and got out.

Franny sucked in breath. “Ohmygod, that’s HIM!”

Anne rolled her eyes. “Don’t wet yourself, Francis. How will I explain you?”

“Very dapper,” Franny declared, eyes on Leone. “Handsome. A little on the rugged side, but distinguished. Sharp dresser.”

“Old enough to be my father.”

“No, he isn’t. Your father is a fossil. Besides, you don’t even like guys your own age,” he reminded her. “May-December—no, really, May-mid-September. It’s romantic! You should totally sleep with him.”

“I met him yesterday!”

“Come on. Be a skank-o-potamus for once. Have some fun before Frank Farman gets you thrown in the slammer. That’s all’s I’m sayin’. You don’t have to keep him, honey, but for God’s sake, kick the tires and take a ride around the block!”

Anne gave him a stern look. “Shut up and do
NOT
follow me.”

She had to admit, as she walked toward him, the man was attractive. He needed to put on a few pounds. The gray suit was a little loose, but it draped expensively over his lanky frame, and the color complemented the steel gray in his hair and mustache.

He was also an
FBI
agent using her to spy on a family via a ten-year-old boy, she reminded herself.

“Agent—Detective—”

“Vince,” he said, stopping just a little too close to her, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Anne said. “We have no dismembered body parts today.”

“I’m glad for you. How was your day?”

“I’m planning to take up drinking—only because it’s cheaper and more socially acceptable than heroin.”

“And legal,” he added. “Provided you don’t try to operate heavy machinery. Do you need help with that? I can drive a Volkswagen as well as anybody.”

“Hello! Francis Goodsell. Anne’s sidekick and best friend in the whole wide world.”

Anne felt herself blush as Franny stepped between them to shake Leone’s hand.

Vince grinned. “Nice to meet you, Francis. Vince Leone. Anne’s would-be suitor.”

“How have I missed seeing you around town?” Franny asked. “I know absolutely everybody worth knowing in Oak Knoll.”

“I travel a lot,” Vince said.

“Domestically or abroad?”

“Franny . . . ,” Anne said through gritted teeth.

Vince seemed happy to play along. “Both.”

“An international man of mystery,” Franny said. “I like that. And are your intentions honorable?”

“Franny!”

“Absolutely.”

Franny frowned. “Well, we’ll have to do something about that. This girl needs to have some fun.”

Anne turned him by the shoulders and gave him a push toward the building. “Good-bye, Francis.”

Franny grinned over his shoulder, his eyes disappearing into twin crescents above his cheeks. “Nice meeting you, Vince!”

“Likewise.”

He looked entirely too amused when Anne turned back to him.

“Take a walk with me,” he said as he put his hand on the small of her back and started down the sidewalk away from the building. “I want you to show me where the kids found the body.”

“Can’t Detective Mendez do that?”

“He’s otherwise engaged and not nearly as pretty.”

“What’s going on?” Anne asked, falling in step with him, ignoring the compliment. He was a natural flirt. He couldn’t help himself. “Have they found the missing woman yet?”

The weight of his hand felt good against her back, but shouldn’t have. She wasn’t in the habit of letting people touch her, but she made no effort to stop him.

“No,” he said. “Not yet.”

“But someone’s been arrested, right?” she asked looking up at him. “I saw that on the news this morning.”

“Yes,” he answered, his face carefully blank.

“But?”

He cocked a brow at her. “I’m not at liberty to discuss an ongoing investigation.”

“Oh. But you can feel free to recruit me into it.”

He dodged the barb. “Did you speak to the boy?”

“Yes, and I feel like a creepy sneak, thanks for asking.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, Anne.”

“He thinks his father was home that night because they watch
Cosby
together. A boy and his loving, caring father sit down together and watch a wholesome family comedy.”

“What about Mom?”

“She has no sense of humor. But I would certainly buy her as a serial killer before her husband.”

He chuckled at that. “I heard she was a little upset this morning.”

“I’ve discovered this week that Janet Crane does not become
a little
upset.”

“Gee, and she was so pleasant to me today. Must be my charm and stunning good looks,” he teased.

A little smile tugged at the corner of Anne’s mouth as she looked up at him. “Must be. Here we are.”

The area around where the body had been buried was still corralled with yellow tape. Vince ducked under it and walked into the shallow grave. He stood there for a couple of minutes, saying nothing, looking very serious as he surveyed the area for 360 degrees around the spot.

“How well do you know this park?” he asked.

“I grew up six blocks from here.”

“Is there another way to get to this spot other than the way we just came?”

“There’s a service road about twenty yards over that rise,” she said, pointing in the general direction behind him. “The sheriff’s office is maybe a quarter of a mile beyond that.”

Even though there was probably two hours of daylight left, it was growing dark in the woods. And cold. Anne hugged herself and tried not to imagine what it would be like to have some evil monster carrying her in here to plant her body in the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Vince said, coming back to her. He shrugged out of his suit coat and draped it around her shoulders. It swallowed her up and smelled pleasantly of sandalwood soap and man. “You’re cold. Let me get you out of here. You’ve had a long week.”

“Yes. Starting right here.”

“It must have been quite a shock to you.”

“I suppose you’re used to it.”

He shook his head. “You never get used to it. You learn to close a door on it emotionally, but it’s never easy. I don’t want it to ever be easy.”

Something rustled in the dead leaves that covered the floor of the woods. Anne strained to see into the gathering gloom on the far side of the grave. She thought she could almost make out a shape half-hidden by a tree trunk.