“Marianne,” Daniel said with a sigh. “Can Chloe turn it around fast?”
“She thought so. Hey, you get any of the old evidence from the Tremaine case?”
“No,” Daniel said, disgusted. “Flooding took out their evidence room and the file is pathetic. The only thing I can tell you is that there was no key. That’s a new MO.”
“The two keys match,” Ed said. “Same exact cut, but that’s not surprising. Did you talk to the principal of that middle school?”
“Yeah, on my way from the crime scene to the police station. She said Janet rented a minivan to take the kids to Fun-N-Sun. I called the parents and all of them say Janet dropped off the kids at seven-fifteen. Leigh’s running down the car rental place from Janet’s credit cards. If anybody asks, I’m headed over to the morgue. I’ll call you later.”
Atlanta , Tuesday, January 30, 12:55 p.m.
Alex gave the photo of a smiling Bailey one last look before she slid it into her satchel, which sagged from the weight of her gun. Meredith had frowned when Alex had taken the gun from its lockbox, but Alex was taking no chances. Hefting the strap of her satchel higher on her shoulder, she looked up into the face of Bailey’s boss.
“Thank you, Desmond. For everything.”
“I just feel so helpless. Bailey’s been with us for three years now and she’s become more like part of our family. We just want to do something.”
Alex toyed with the yellow ribbon someone had tied across Bailey’s station in the very upscale Atlanta salon. “You’ve done a lot.” She pointed to the flyer they’d posted. She’d seen dozens like it as she’d walked through Atlanta ’s Underground shopping mall. It was a picture of Bailey, along with an offer of a reward for information leading to her whereabouts. “I wish the people in her hometown were as generous.”
Desmond’s jaw hardened. “They would never let her live down her mistakes. We begged her to leave, to move here, but she wouldn’t.”
“She commuted every day?” It was an hour each way.
“Except on Saturday nights.” He pointed to an empty station. “Sissy and Bailey were best friends. On Saturdays, Sissy’s daughter babysat Hope while Bailey worked, then they’d stay over in Sissy’s place. Bailey volunteered at one of the downtown shelters every Sunday morning. It was like her religion.”
“I wish I’d talked to you yesterday afternoon. It took me hours to find that shelter.”
Desmond’s eyes widened. “You’ve been there, then?”
“Last night. They seem to love Bailey there.”
“Everybody loves Bailey.” His eyes narrowed. “Except that town. If you ask me, somebody needs to check out the slime that live there.”
Alex could see his point. “Can I talk to Sissy?”
“She’s off today, but I’ll get her number for you. Give me your parking voucher. I’ll validate it while I’m at it.”
Alex dug the voucher from her purse, pulling her cell phone out with it. The light was blinking. “That’s weird. I’ve got a message, but I didn’t hear it ring.”
“Sometimes reception is wonderful down here and sometimes it’s a dead zone.” Immediately he winced. “I didn’t mean to say that. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. We have to believe we’ll find her.” Desmond walked away, his head bowed low, and Alex checked her call log. Daniel had called four times. Her pulse raced.
He was probably just calling to check on me. But what if he’d made a mistake? What if the woman he’d found that morning was Bailey? She found Desmond at the front counter, took her voucher, and shook his hand. “I have to go. Thank you,” she called over her shoulder as she ran up the escalator to street level and the parking valet.
Atlanta , Tuesday, January 30, 1:00 p.m.
“A single hair, long and brown.” Felicity Berg held up a small plastic bag in which the hair was curled like a lariat. “He meant for you to find it.”
Daniel crouched to study the newest victim’s toe. “He wrapped the hair around the big toe of her left foot, then wrapped the string for the key over it.” He stood up, blinking at the headache that had spiraled in intensity. “So it’s important. Male or female hair?”
“I’d say there’s a good chance it’s female. And he was nice enough to give us a hair with a full follicle, so I should have no trouble getting DNA.”
“Can I see it?” He held it up to the light. “It’s hard to tell color from just one hair.”
“Ed can run a color match and give you a hair swatch.”
“Other than that, what else can you tell me about this woman?”
“Early twenties. Recent manicure. Cotton fibers in the lining of her cheeks and evidence of sexual assault. We’re running the blood test for Rohypnol. I put a rush on it. Come look at this.” She angled the overhead light so that a spotlight shone on the woman’s throat. “Look at the circular bruising on her throat. It’s very faint, but there.”
He took the magnifying glass she offered and looked where she pointed. “Pearls?”
“Big ones. He didn’t strangle her with them or the bruises would have been readily apparent. I’m thinking he may have grabbed them at some point, maybe to put mild pressure on her trachea. And look here. See that little nick?”
“He held a knife to her throat.”
Felicity nodded. “One last thing. She was wearing Forevermore. It’s a perfume,” she added when Daniel frowned. “Four hundred an ounce.”
Daniel’s eyes widened. “And you know that how?”
“I know the scent because my mother wears it. I know the price because I checked when I was looking to buy her birthday present.”
“Did you give your mother the perfume?”
“No. That was way out of my price range.” Her eyes crinkled and Daniel knew she was smiling under the mask. “I gave her a waffle-maker instead.”
Daniel smiled back. “A far more practical choice.” He gave her back the magnifying glass and straightened, sobering as he looked down into the face of their second victim. “Pearls and perfume. This woman is wealthy or gets gifts from someone who is.” His cell phone buzzed and the caller ID had his pulse going a little faster.
Alex handed her voucher to the valet as Daniel’s cell phone rang in her ear.
“Vartanian.”
“Daniel, it’s Alex.”
“Excuse me,” she heard him say. “I need to take this.” A few moments later he was back and mad. “Where have you been?” he demanded. “I called three times.”
“Four, actually,” Alex said. “I’ve been with the owner of the salon where Bailey works. They’ve posted flyers all over the Underground offering a reward for information.”
“That’s nice,” he said more gently. “I’m sorry. I got worried.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
“Nothing, really.” He dropped his voice. “Just that we were… watched. Last night.”
“What?” Alex frowned and stepped off the curb. “That’s-”
But no more words came. Just the squeal of tires and the shout of a stranger. Then screams and her own grunt of pain as a body slammed into her from behind, knocking her forward onto the sidewalk. Her palms and knees burned as she skidded to a stop.
Time seemed to stand still as she lifted her head, still on her hands and knees. There was a queer bubble of muted sound as a man’s face filled her field of vision. His lips were moving and she squinted, trying to hear him. People were grabbing at her arms, helping her up. One man handed her the satchel, another woman her purse.
Dazed, Alex blinked and turned slowly to the street where the valet was bolting out of her rental car, his face pale and shocked. “What happened?” Alex asked, her voice thin and spindly. Her knees went wobbly. “I need to sit down.”
The hands holding her arms led her to a giant cement planter and she gingerly lowered herself to its edge. A new face appeared in front of her, this one calm. And wearing a police officer’s hat. “Are you all right? Do we need to call an ambulance?”