Voices Carry (33 page)

“Does Mr. Homer know that you ripped pages out of his phone book?”

“We’ll let the evidence folks tell him. I think it’s time to call the ERT in, to go through the house. Especially Mother Homer’s room. I think we need to start lifting prints, hair samples—”

“Done. That was one of several calls I made while you were inside,” he told her. “I also called Egan and filled him in. He’s going to dispatch field agents to each of the families of the missing women to bring them up-to-date.”

“Then I guess it’s time to start visiting all of the car dealers in the area to see if in fact Brother Michael made a purchase.”

John turned the key in the ignition and the car eased from the curb.

It had only taken three stops before the dealer who’d sold Brother Michael his wheels was located.

“A 1998 Dodge van, yes, ma’am,” the middle-aged salesman who introduced himself as Lou Banning told Genna nervously, glancing at the pocket where she’d placed her badge and wondering, no doubt, where her gun was stashed. “Paid cash on the spot.”

“What can you tell us about the van?” she asked.

“It was dark blue. Windows on one side panel, windows on the back doors. Only had about thirteen thousand miles on it.”

“Were the windows tinted?” John pretended to be checking out the merits of a new SUV.

“Yes, tinted windows.” Lou nodded.

“Can you pull the paperwork for us?”

“Paperwork’s locked in the office this time of the night, but I can pull up the transaction on the computer, if that would help.”

“That would be fine. But maybe,” Genna smiled as she followed him to the glass door, “maybe you can get someone to come in and open up that office so that we can take a look at the paperwork.”

“I can do that,” he nodded.

“Can you describe him for us?” John asked,
choosing to stand rather than sit in one of the hard plastic chairs that were offered. “The fellow who bought the van?”

“Under six feet, slender, full beard, a mustache. . .”

“What color was his hair?”

“Dark brown, touch of gray running through it, but there wasn’t much of it. It was really short.”

“May I use your phone?” John asked, reaching for it without waiting for a response.

“Do you think you could work with an artist to prepare a sketch for us?” Genna asked. John would be calling Calvin Sharpe. In no time at all, agents from the nearest field office would be all over Lindenwood.

“Sure. But I don’t know that we’ll need to,” he told her, pointing behind her. She turned and followed his finger, to the nearby corner of the room. “Security camera. We started using it last spring, when our vending machines were being broken into. We caught the guy who was doing it, but I don’t know that anyone thought to turn off the camera. It probably just ran until the tape ran out.”

“When was it installed?” Genna asked, her heart pounding at this unforeseen stroke of luck.

“On Tuesday, April 11, of this year. I remember because it was my forty-fifth birthday. It had seventy-two hours worth of tape on it.”

“And Michael Homer was here when?”

“First thing, Thursday morning. That would’ve been April thirteenth.”

“Is the tape still in there?”

“I never did take it down.” He shrugged. “Didn’t hear nobody else saying they did.”

“Get it down now, then, if you would be so kind.” She turned and called to John. “Off the phone, Mancini. Lou has a little surprise for you. . .”

By ten-thirty, the tape had not only been viewed several dozen times, but copied as well. Just as the salesman had suspected, the man he identified as Michael Homer was clearly evident. Unfortunately, the camera angle failed to provide a full facial image. Still, it was the first glimpse they’d had of their prime suspect, and it was hoped that by sending the tape to the lab, some isolated still shots might be obtained that could be sent out to the media.

By midnight, the first of the ERT members had arrived from the Pittsburgh office and had been briefed by John and Genna both. It was a little after one
A.M.
when John pulled into the parking lot of the motel on the outskirts of town where rooms had been reserved for the two agents.

“Some day, eh?” John said when he turned off the engine.

“You’re not kidding.” Genna stifled a yawn and nodded.

“Tired?” he asked.

“A little. I’m more hungry than tired right now, though. Do you remember when you last ate?”

“Breakfast on the plane.”

“Me too. I think it’s just catching up with me.”

“There’s an all-night diner across the parking lot,” he noted. “Want to give it a try?”

“Are you kidding? I’d walk over hot coals for a fresh cup of coffee and something really good to eat.”

John smiled to himself as he locked the car. The return of Genna’s appetite was a good sign.

He took her hand and they strolled through the
halos of yellow light that spilled from the poles stationed every twenty feet or so across the lot. The two customers seated at the counter turned to look them over as Genna and John entered the quiet diner. A tired-looking young woman in her early twenties led them to a table overlooking the street and handed them menus.

“We serve breakfast twenty-four/seven,” she told them.

They studied the menus and made their selections, and sat quietly, each lost in their thoughts, for a few minutes.

“What would you like to hear?” John asked.

“What?”

“They have an old jukebox,” he pointed to a wall behind her. “What would you like to hear?”

“Let’s see what they have.”

They leaned against the rounded glass front of the jukebox and read off titles of songs, most of which were popular a decade or more ago.

“Wow, some of these records are antiques. Look there, ‘Blue Moon.’ That was a big favorite back in the Stone Age,” John told her as he slipped some change into the slot. “And this one. ‘You Belong to Me.’” Grinning, he dropped in another quarter. “Not to mention this one. ‘Why Do Fools Fall in Love?’ My dad had some of these.”

“I don’t know if I ever heard any of them.”

“You have to be kidding.” He turned, wide-eyed, to stare at her.

“Nope.” She shook her head just as the song began to play.

“Wow,” he muttered, pretending to be shocked, “never heard ‘Blue Moon.’ It’s a golden oldie.” He
made a few more selections before leading her back to their seats, singing with the jukebox along the way.

“I wasn’t born until 1973,” she reminded him.

“And I was born in ’70,” he said as they sat back down. “What’s that got to do with it? You weren’t alive in the forties, either, but I’ve heard you singing ‘The Tennessee Waltz.’”

“Only because it’s an old favorite of Patsy’s, and she used to sing it all the time.” Genna laughed.

The waitress brought their coffee and they ministered to their cups, stirring as they added cream and sugar.

“So. What are you thinking?” John asked, when he felt it was time.

“I’m thinking we are going to catch this bastard.” She looked across the table at him with eyes that glowed with a certainty he hadn’t seen there before. “I think those videos will go a long way to helping us when they are shown on the news tomorrow morning. We will be hearing from gas station attendants and waitresses and people who work in drugstores and we will track him down before another victim is taken.”

“He may not look the same now as he did back in April,” John said, wondering when it would occur to her that there was only one potential name left on Michael’s list. “He may have shaved off the beard, the hair could be longer. Maybe a different color.”

“I know, I know. But. . .” She hesitated.

“‘But. . . ?’”

“But, well, watching that tape. . . there’s something about the way he walks. . .” her voice faded off.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I can’t help but feel as if. . . well, as if something seemed familiar. . .”

“Well, it’s possible that something has stayed in your mind that you don’t consciously remember. Your paths have crossed before, even though you were only nine years old at the time.”

“Maybe that’s it. Maybe it’s just an old memory.” She sipped at her coffee, then moved her body back to permit the waitress to serve them the scrambled eggs and toast they’d ordered.

“How did you feel, seeing him, after all these years?” John tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, though it had been the one issue that had most worried him since the tape had been found.

She put her fork down, considering the question.

“Mostly, angry. I’m still angry for what he did to me. But I’m even more angry about what he’s done to these women. They’ve been twice his victim.” She swallowed hard. “Sometimes I wake up at night, thinking that I hear them calling me. Calling for help. Like they’re waiting for me to find them. . .” Her voice trailed off for a moment, then she was back, adding firmly, “But on another level, I am infinitely grateful that I am here, where I am, to be the one who will bring him in and put an end to it, once and for all.”

“Well, certainly, you’ll be part of it, but. . .” John stopped, and studied her face, not liking what he saw there. “Genna, don’t even think about it.”

“John, you know I’m on his list. You know I’m the one he’s after now,” she said softly.

“If you think I’m going to let you out of my sight. . .”

“Stop and think,” she lowered her voice and
leaned across the table. “You know he’s not going to quit until he’s crossed every name off that list. Mine is the last one.”

“I was wondering when that would occur to you.”

“I never lost sight of it. He’s far too clever to be easily caught. He’s proven that. Twelve victims so far, and we don’t have a clue as to where they are or what he’s done with them. You and I both know that this will not end until we find him or he finds me. Unless we get a clean lead and locate him over the next few days, we won’t find him at all. I’ve spent most of my life trying to overcome the repercussions of what he did to me. I will not spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, wondering where he is, waiting for him to come back. This time, I’m going to be in control, not him.”

“Genna, don’t you think he’ll expect you to do just that? Do you really expect him to come after you now?”

“I think he thinks he’s smarter than all of us. I think he’ll find a way to get to me, regardless of how much protection there may be around me.”

“Gen, the best thing for you to do right now is to go underground with Patsy and Crystal—”

“Oh, my God, someone needs to warn them—” The color drained from her face.

“Someone already has.” He reached out for her hand and took it. “I called Patsy while you were in talking with Mr. Homer and suggested that she and Chrissie prepare to leave the lake for a while.”

“Leave the lake?” Genna frowned. “Patsy’d never agree to that.”

“Au contraire,
my sweet,” he told her. “She’s probably packed by now.”

“To go where?”

“We agreed that perhaps Brian’s house might be a good place to stay.”

“No.” Genna shook her head. “I will not put Allison and the kids in the middle of this. We’ll think of someplace else to send them.”

“To send you,” John reminded her. “Not just them. You. And me.”

“Why you?”

“To make certain that you stay put until this is over.”

With the tines of her fork, Genna mashed the remains of her egg. By the look on her face, John knew she was getting ready to bargain.

“Suppose I agree to go off someplace with Pats and Chrissie. How long do we have to stay away?”

“Until the danger has passed.”

“And if we don’t find him?” She raised an eyebrow. “Do I hide for the rest of my life?”

“I don’t think it will take that long.”

“But if we don’t find him, John, what then?” She got up and slid in next to him on the booth’s opposite side. “John, I know that you want to protect me, and I love you for it. Actually, it’s occurred to me lately that I love you for a lot of reasons, but that’s a conversation for later. There was a time when we talked about making a life together. What kind of a life would that be if I have to begin every day wondering if today would be the day he would find me? If every day, I have to be afraid?”

John struggled for an answer, but wasn’t quick enough to come up with one.

“We’ve lost so much time together, John. We deserve so much more than having to worry every time we step outside. Let’s just catch him and have it done with.”
She put her arm around his neck and whispered, “Let’s get this sucker now so that we can get on with our life. What do you say, John?”

“I’m still working on the part where you said you love me.” He turned his head slightly to rest it against hers. “How do I know that’s not just a ruse to get your way?”

“You know me better than that.”

“Yes,” he sighed, “I do.”

“So?”

“So let’s think it through.” John accepted the check the waitress handed him in passing and placed it on the table. “We’re assuming that Michael’s goal was to take revenge on the women who put him behind bars. He has all of them except one. Now, if you were anyone else, it would be a lot easier. But you being who you are, and having the resources that you have at your disposal—i.e., the FBI—it’s going to be a lot tougher. He knows we’ll be all over you. So what will he do? Will he lie low for a while, waiting for us to get careless? Or will he anticipate that you will set a trap with yourself as the bait, and find a way to get around it, just to prove he can?”

“He’ll expect the FBI to use me to draw him out. He won’t be able to resist trying to prove that he’s smarter than we are. Particularly, smarter than I am.”

“So we—”

“We frustrate him a little, to see if we can get him to do something a little rash. Maybe you’re right,” she leaned against John’s shoulder. “Maybe I should disappear for a while. Even a few days could make him antsy. Which will hopefully make him careless.”

“Or more dangerous.”

“How much more dangerous can he be?” Genna tried to smile.

“Good point,” John nodded. “So how do you see this playing out?”

“I see us back at your room making up for lost time.”