Wake the Devil (10 page)

B
eth Sturgis had already reached the same conclusion. Early on in the case, it occurred to her that the killer needed advance knowledge to plan for the Lawrences’ presence at the park.

Everything had been coming at them so quickly that she hadn’t had time to discuss her theory with Jack. As she drove, she wondered if he had told her everything about his relationship with Janet Newton. The woman was clearly attractive and well put together. If you threw in successful and intelligent, it only made matters worse. The directions these thoughts were taking made her uncomfortable. She’d been in relationships where the other party had been less than candid. Cheating was the word. But trust was at the core of what she and Jack had together. Without it, no relationship could survive. She felt guilty for doubting him and angry at herself for being jealous.

It had taken several months to get over being kidnapped and nearly mummified by the killer in the serial case and she was still not completely free of that trauma. Those cold, gray eyes and their last conversation still haunted her dreams. The department shrink helped, but it was mostly Jack who’d been there for her at every turn. Having a shoulder to lean on wasn’t a bad thing at all. A year earlier, it would have been her father, a man she admired greatly. Now it was Jack.

After a few minutes, she began to analyze why she was reacting the way she had to Janet. She was not jealous by nature, at least not overly so, and Jack had certainly given her no reason to be now. She conceded that having been married in college to a professor who went
after anything in a skirt might be coloring her perception. Being a cop only added to the problem, or maybe it was her basic insecurity. The bottom line was she trusted Jack. But how well could you know a person after only seven months? Since they’d been together, she had learned there were a number of sides to him, sides she hadn’t seen before. Not that she was complaining, because most of them were good.

The other day she’d been discussing this very subject with her friend Celeste at their morning workout. They’d met as undergraduates at Boston College and had remained close over the years. Somehow both had wound up in Atlanta. Celeste was now a published author with a number of magazine articles to her credit and a book she was presently working on. She liked Jack and approved of him, but had been openly skeptical of Beth giving up her home to move into his. To her surprise, Jack agreed and suggested she rent hers out—just in case.

For her part, she never harbored any doubts, at least none she was willing to verbalize. Just too stubborn, he had guessed. She was also aware of her impulsive nature but remained convinced the decision had been correct. There would be bumps along the way. Of course there would. That was normal. They’d deal with them as they came up. She wasn’t sure if the appearance of Janet Newton on the scene constituted one. Time would tell, and obsessing over it wouldn’t do any good. Still . . .

*

The granite monolith rose out of the ground in the distance, growing ever larger as Beth approached. On a clear day, Stone Mountain could be seen from twenty-five miles away. Even the astronauts onboard the International Space Station had reported seeing it on their orbital passes.

As she pulled into the visitors’ lot, she caught glimpses of several Boy Scouts and cops searching the trees for more bomb parts. Jack had texted her that the first batch had arrived and they were in the process of analyzing it.

She was grateful there were no reporters or news trucks present. Handling the media was Jack’s job, something he did pretty well.
When working with reporters in the past, he was always candid, to the point, and never ducked a tough question. The deputy chief had asked her to do one press release in their last case and she had. But all the time she was talking it felt like she was about to put her foot in her mouth.

Better Jack than me.

This was her second trip to the mountain. The first had been after the explosions, but that was mostly as an observer while Ben Furman worked the scene. After retrieving her evidence kit from the trunk, she proceeded to the passenger-loading platform. An area surrounding the control room had been cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape. Unconsciously, Beth adopted the same folded arms posture Jack did when he studied a scene as she began her observations. Ben was an excellent technician but there was nothing like getting a hands-on feel. Clearly, the control room and the tram were primary sites, but they weren’t the only game in town. Now that she had a better idea of the person they were dealing with, there was more she hoped to learn.

She spoke to herself out loud, brainstorming different possibilities. “All right, ingress and egress are obvious. The park only has two gates, so you came in the same way I did. Now where did you watch George and Rachel from? Not the loading platform, because you’d stand out like a sore thumb. And not the Visitors Center, because there’s no clear view of the tram. The trees are possible, but you’d have a tough time explaining why you were there if a park ranger happened along. That leaves the summit. With a pair of binoculars, you’d fit right in. Just another tourist out for the day.”

She was certain Jack already knew this. But she was here now and he was back at the lab playing with his evidence. Coming in second had never appealed to her. She squinted up at the mountain for several seconds then turned her attention to the control room and ducked under the tape.

According to Furman, the killer had picked the lock to gain entry. When Furman examined it, he noted scratches, machine oil residue, and bits of graphite. The lock, however, was made by a company that advertised their stuff was pickproof. The cops she spoke with in Burglary confirmed that, so something didn’t fit.

Beth continued her self-talk, a habit she’d acquired since joining Robbery-Homicide. Jack seemed to think it was funny, but never said so aloud.

“Okay, Sandman, you’re good, maybe even brilliant. But are you
that
good?”

Out of curiosity, she walked around the little building. It was nothing more than a concrete box designed to house the computer that controlled the cable car. Ever since the system had been automated years ago, there had been no need for an operator. The blast had irreparably damaged the controls, freezing the car in midair, but otherwise the building was intact. It had one window at the front and one in the back. Thirty yards away, amidst various granite outcrops, the mountain’s tree-line began. A foot-wide gravel border ran around three sides of the control room on the mountain side. The fourth was the cement platform.

Nothing looked promising until Beth noticed one of the glass panes had no putty around the edges. Using a fingernail, she carefully touched it and found it was loose.

She returned for her evidence kit and went inside. An area directly under the window had been swept. She concluded the Sandman had used it to enter when he set the first bomb in the control room, then cleaned up after himself to eliminate any evidence. Remembering what he had done at the church and in Tel Aviv, according to what Janet Newton had told them, it also meant the scratches around the lock and the oil residue Ben noticed had been staged.

“Maybe you’re not so smart after all,” she muttered.

Using a penknife, she carefully pried the glass free and dusted for prints. Two smudges appeared, which had likely been made by a cotton glove. Next, she fixed her attention on the floor and along the wall. She found several fibers and another substance she couldn’t identify by looking at it. She was now seeing the room with fresh eyes. After twenty minutes, confident it had revealed all its secrets, Beth went back out to the platform. Her goal was to find the Sandman’s vantage point.

With the tram out of commission, the only way to the top would be by foot. She took a breath and started walking. A serpentine path wound in and out of the trees for about a hundred yards and then
gave way to bare granite. It was steep, but not overly so. Despite the cool air, she soon found herself sweating. Other women glistened. She sweated.

The mountain’s shape was roughly oblong with sides that extended outward. This meant there was no easy way to view the loading platform from up top. If you looked down, all you’d see was rock directly below until you reached the apex where it bulged outward. It took her nearly an hour to make the assent. There she found a restaurant and a few picnic tables. She was the only visitor that day. Beth began scanning the area.

The closest spot with an unobstructed view of the base appeared to be about a hundred feet below her on the mountain’s south side. Unfortunately, a four-foot chain link fence stood in the way. On the other side of the fence was a small group of boulders with a cluster of trees growing between them that looked promising. With a growing sense of anticipation, she made her way toward the boulders and wound up sacrificing a good pair of shoes when she climbed the fence. The reason for the fence became obvious after several feet. The slope was now precarious, something she hadn’t realized when looking at it from the top. Simply negotiating her way across the rock was a challenge. Countless years of exposure had worn the granite smooth. The farther she went, the worse her footing became. It was like being on the side of a roof. Instinctively, she pressed herself back into the mountain for safety.

She realized her mouth had gone dry and her heart was thumping in her chest. This was an entirely different kind of fear from being confined to enclosed places. It was something she could see and control, and to be honest, it was slightly exhilarating. The boulders were now twenty yards below her.

After reaching them, she began a methodical search. It quickly became obvious someone had been there. Bits of leaves and accumulated debris had been pushed to the side, probably when his shoe slipped on the rock. The patches were barely visible but stood out against the granite. Using a roller from her evidence kit, she picked up more of those reddish particles she’d seen at Rachel Lawrence’s office and at the church. Conclusion: the Sandman had visited all three places. Four, if you counted the law office. Now they had to find out where these grains
came from. In that regard, Jack was spooky. She’d seen him pull rabbits out of hats enough times to know it was no accident.

But wouldn’t it be delicious to beat him at his own game?

Beth bagged the evidence and filled out the chain-of-custody cards. Excited by her discoveries, she placed a call to him.

“Guess what I found?”

“A shoe sale at Nordstrom.”

“Watch it, Kale. This is better.”

“Hard to imagine,” Jack said.

“I’m at Stone Mountain. The Sandman didn’t pick the control room lock. He set it up to look that way.”

“How so?”

“The graphite, scratches, and machine oil Ben found were staged. He came in through the window, set the first bomb, and then swept up after himself, like he did at the church. I collected two bags of evidence and more of that red dust
outside
the building under the window. One of the glass panes had been removed and replaced. He was clearly covering up. Any luck on where it comes from?”

“I was just discussing that.”

“With Ms. Newton?”

Beth rolled her eyes.
I can’t believe I just said that.
She shut her eyes and resisted the impulse to bang her head against one of the boulders.

“Janet left a little while ago,” Jack said. “I wish we knew more about this man.”

“Like his DNA or who he is?”

“That would be helpful.”

“Wouldn’t it?”

There was a pause before he realized she was waiting for his next question.

“Is there something you’d like to say, Detective?”

“What’s it worth to you?”

Jack looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. “Dinner and a massage.”

“Deal. I located the Sandman’s observation point near the mountain top and collected three more bags of evidence. This is where he set the bomb off from, Jack. No other place makes sense.”

“Excellent. But I don’t know that that merits—”

“And I found two hairs. Human by the look of them.” Beth wished she could see Jack’s face.

He took a second to process that, then said, “See you at home. You want the massage before or after dinner?”

“After. The last time you gave me a massage, I got screwed out of the meal—literally.”

Jack was still laughing when he disconnected.

*

She was in the process of wrapping up when a rumble of thunder in the distance stopped her. In the west, over Atlanta’s skyline, a dark line of clouds had formed. She’d been so absorbed in what she was doing she hadn’t noticed the weather changing. The wind had also picked up.

Time to go.

As she stood, something caught her eye. Something she hadn’t seen a moment ago. Eight feet below her at the base of the last boulder was what looked like a cigarette butt. At first she thought she might be mistaken and stared at it harder. This was too good to pass up.

Because the slope was particularly steep, she would have to crab walk forward on her rear end to reach it. If she was lucky, really lucky, it might contain DNA. A small chance, but you never knew.

Having moved well out onto the mountain’s exposed surface, Beth found herself being buffeted by increasingly stronger wind gusts. Worried, she checked the skyline again.

Not good. An old boyfriend who raced catamarans in New York once explained if a section of the sky is clear and another is hazy, there’s a good chance the latter contains rain. She could see the hazy part coming toward her like a curtain.

Damn. Just what I need.

The cigarette butt was still too far to reach. Easing herself down the final few feet, she failed to account for gravity, overbalanced, and picked up speed. Using her legs as a brake, Beth came to a precarious stop just in front of the boulder.

“Gotcha,” she said, placing it in another plastic bag. Her efforts were further rewarded by locating two more hairs. Her joy, however, was short lived. The wind was getting worse, whipping her hair sideways across her face.