Dark Truth (20 page)

“Because he had tenure, and he had seniority, after Dr. Madden. And them being about the same age, there was no way he—Dr. Overbeck—was ever going to get that job once Dr. Madden took over. He wasn’t going anywhere, he’d made that plain enough. He liked St. Ansel’s, always said he’d retire here.”

“So just another reason for Overbeck to resent Madden,” Wes observed. “Sounds like a lot of professional jealousy.”

“On Dr. Overbeck’s part, certainly. As I said, the whole thing seemed to amuse Dr. Madden.”

“Mrs. Owens, earlier you referred to Dr. Madden as Dr. Overbeck’s rival.”

“I don’t know what else you’d call it, Detective. Like I said before, if Dr. Madden had it, Dr. Overbeck wanted it. Pure and simple. Just like a child.”

“I think you said you were aware that Dr. Overbeck was having an affair with Dr. Madden’s wife. How did you know?”

“She’d come in, supposedly to see her husband when she had to know he’d be in class, then go behind closed doors with Overbeck. I’m not stupid.”

“How often did that happen?”

“At least once a week.”

“Before or after the killings on campus started, do you remember?”

“Before.” She nodded. “Definitely before. And it continued on for a while, too. They were still seeing each other right up until the time Dr. Madden died, and for a time after.”

“You said something earlier that gave me the impression that you were unaware of Dr. Madden’s involvements with several of his students.”

“Never suspected a thing.” She shook her head adamantly. “I never would have stood for that. Disgusting, to take advantage of those girls like that. It was a big shock to all of us there when that news came out, I can tell you that. No one I knew had an inkling. He was discreet, I’ll give him that much.”

“One other thing. Did Dr. Madden leave his office unlocked?”

“He never locked that door. He’d have students coming and going all the time.”

“Did you ever see Dr. Overbeck going in or coming out of Madden’s office?”

“Every chance he got, if he thought I wasn’t looking.” She nodded.

“Thank you so much for speaking with us frankly, Mrs. Owens.” Wes rose. “We won’t take any more of your time.”

“Time is one thing I have a lot of these days.”

“It was good to see you again, Mrs. Owens.” Nina hugged the woman. “Thank you for . . . for reminding me that my father did have his good points.”

“Your father was a good man in many respects. But he had one serious flaw, and it was his downfall.”

Mrs. Owens walked with them to the end of the drive, and stood there until they drove away.

“She certainly had a lot to say,” Wes said when they reached the stop sign at the end of the street. “And none of it flattering, as far as Overbeck is concerned. I’m liking him more and more. Motivewise, he’s got it over everyone else.”

“So my stepbrother is no longer at the top of your list?”

“He’s still right up there.”

“She misses her husband so much,” Nina said. “Did you see the way she kept touching the sweater? I’ll bet it was his.”

“I didn’t notice,” he admitted.

“They were married when they were eighteen, she told me once. She said they’d gone all through school together, from third grade on, and they’d always known they’d be together,” she told him. “I always thought that was the most romantic story I ever heard. Coming from a broken home, it seemed like fiction to me. Like an unattainable ideal.”

“Not completely. My parents are still married after almost fifty years. And they’re still talking to each other.”

“They’re lucky.” She turned to him. “You’re lucky that you have that experience in your background. You understand relationships that work.”

“Excuse me, you’re talking to a man whose marriage lasted exactly twenty-two months. And most of them weren’t particularly happy ones.”

“But you’ve seen close up what it’s like when it works.”

“Which is how I knew it wasn’t working for me.”

They rode in silence for a few minutes, then he asked, “Were you ever married?”

“No.”

“Ever come close?”

“No. Not really. Once or twice I thought maybe . . . but no.”

“Still looking for Mr. Right?”

“As opposed to Mr. Right Now, as they say?”

“What’s wrong with right now?”

“It smacks of settling for something less.” She stared out the window. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at settling.”

His cell rang.

“Powell.”

He listened without comment for several long minutes, then said, “It’s going to take me about an hour. Secure the scene and I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

He hung up and dropped the phone into the empty cup holder.

“Earlier this morning, a student taking a shortcut from the parking lot behind the maintenance building at St. Ansel’s stumbled—literally—over a body that was left near the Dumpster.”

“Oh, my God . . . “

“Yeah.” His eyes were on the road and he hit the accelerator. “Dinner might be a little late tonight . . . “

T
wenty-three

Nina stood on the deck off Regan’s kitchen, snipping the dead blooms off the few hardy geraniums that managed to survive this far into the fall. The first real frost would do them in, but for now, all-day sun and regular watering would keep them going. She’d just finished watering all the big pots, and had to remind herself to avoid the overflow from the pots she’d overfilled.

It was almost dark, and the light-sensitive lamps on the posts around the deck would be coming on automatically any time now. She was dressed for dinner, in heels and a short skirt topped with a light jacket, and was hoping Wes wouldn’t be too much longer. She’d been disappointed when their Friday-night dinner plans had to be postponed, but was happy to be seeing him tonight instead. He’d called late on Friday afternoon, all apologies, but he just wasn’t going to make it. She’d understood, certainly. A young woman was dead. That took precedence over a dinner date any day.

“Thanks for not making me jump through hoops,” he’d told her.

“Why would I do that?”

“Most women don’t like it when you break a date because of work.”

“This isn’t like normal overtime.”

“You’re telling me. Thanks for being so understanding.”

He’d called two hours ago to tell her that he’d be a few minutes later than he’d hoped, but he’d be there.

“And I do have some news you might be interested in.”

“What’s that?”

“A package was delivered from the FBI this morning, but I wasn’t here to pick it up. When I came in this afternoon, it was on my desk.” He cleared his throat. “Mitch was able to uncover eight more murders over the past sixteen years in the Delaware-Pennsylvania area. All young women, all stabbed. Raped. The bodies all posed the same way.”

“Eight . . . “ she whispered.

“There could be more. He’s still looking. And I also had a message from the Maryland State Police, on my inquiry regarding Kyle. I tried calling back the trooper who called, but he’d left for the day. I probably won’t get him until Monday.”

“You must be exhausted. Are you sure you want to drive down here? Why don’t you let me drive up to meet you halfway?”

“I appreciate it, but I’ve already made reservations at the Clam House. I’ve been looking forward to some tasty seafood and listening to a great jazz band in the company of a pretty woman. I could really use a little R and R right about now.”

“If you’re sure . . . “

“I’m positive.”

“Wes, do you think this murder is connected to the others?”

“Right now, it’s tough to tell. Allison Mulroney was found in her apartment, and as you know, the similarities were striking to the earlier four cases. Could that have been the work of a copycat? Sure. But this girl yesterday—Lanie Jacobs—lived in a dorm on the opposite side of the campus, not an apartment as the others all had, and she wasn’t posed at all.”

“So you think this is a different killer?”

“I honestly don’t know. There’s nothing to tie it to the others, but it feels like there should be. This crime scene is totally different from the others. The only things these girls have in common is that they were both students at St. Ansel’s and they were both stabbed.”

“But as you just said, last week’s case fit right in with the others. What are the chances there are two killers in Stone River?”

“It’s hard to believe there could be, and I’m a bit baffled, frankly. I was hoping there’d be something at the scene we could use to tie this to someone, but so far we haven’t found a thing, except for one footprint leading away from the body. Our crime scene people are still working on that; they think they’ll be able to match the size and make real soon. But there was trash around and in the Dumpster, so all that has to be sorted through.”

“Are you still thinking that Dr. Overbeck is involved?”

“Maybe, if we’re talking about the Mulroney case, but not Jacobs. I did try to talk to the chief about putting both Overbeck and your stepbrother under surveillance, but he hit the ceiling. As far as he’s concerned, that case was then and this case is now. I even tried to talk to someone in the DA’s office, but he all but laughed in my face. No one wants to make that connection. Especially with this new one being so different.”

After the call, Nina’d hung up the phone and showered and dressed, and was now finding ways to pass the time until he got there. She figured deadheading the flowers in the pots on Regan’s deck could take a while.

The lights from a car appeared at the end of the drive as she snipped the last of the seed heads from the coleus. The car had already stopped and the driver had gotten out when she realized it wasn’t Wes.

Instinct caused her to hide the small garden snips in the pocket of her jacket.

“Kyle.” She watched him climb the steps to the deck.

“Surprise, Nina.” He looked her over. “You look lovely. Are you on your way out?”

“Yes, I am. Actually, I thought you were my date.”

“Well, I probably should have called first.”

He looked around the parking area and nodded in the direction of the Land Rover. “Oh, good. I see Regan Landry’s car is here. I’ll finally get to meet her. I was such a fan of her father’s.”

He looked back at Nina and said, “That is her car, isn’t it? The white one, the one she lets you drive?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He held out a package. “I really just stopped in to bring you some things.”

“What’s in here?”

“The photographs I told you about, pictures of your dad’s family. And a few pieces of Mom’s jewelry. Some things I thought she’d want you to have.”

“Thank you, Kyle,” Nina replied, feeling just a little confused. “But don’t you think your mother’s things should go to Marcy?”

“Marcy has taken the kids and gone to New Jersey to live with her mother.” His eyes darkened. “I don’t think Mom would approve of any of her things going to Marcy.”

“I take it there’s no chance of reconciliation?”

“Not in this lifetime.” He forced a smile. “So. Do I get to meet your friend?”

“Ah, well, Regan isn’t here right now.”

“So, are we all alone here, Nina?”

A chill went up her spine.

When she didn’t answer, he nodded. “Apparently so.”

He reached down and broke a stem off one of the geraniums.

“Nina, Nina, Nina. Why’d you do it?” he asked softly.

“Why’d I do what?”

“Why’d you take the cigarette from the ashtray?” His eyes had gone dark again. “Who’d you give it to? Powell? Hoping to find a little DNA that might match something?”

He snapped the geranium’s stem and let it fall to the deck. “Stupid, stupid, stupid . . . “

She took a step backward, her hand in her pocket gripping the shears.

“Why did you do that, Nina?” His voice dropped, and he appeared to be close to tears. “I did not want to hurt you. I told Mother, I won’t hurt Nina.” His bottom lip was trembling. “You’re the little sister. I’m supposed to protect you. Big brothers protect the little sisters. I told her that.”

“When did you tell her that, Kyle?”
Keep him talking until Wes gets here,
she told herself.
Make him keep talking.

He seemed not to hear her.

“Your detective friend can test and test away at that old DNA, but he’ll never match it to me.” His demeanor changed. “You think I killed those girls, but nope. Wasn’t me. Not that I didn’t want to. I told her I wanted to, but she wouldn’t let me.”

“Did Olivia kill them? Was my father right about that?”

“Your father.” His laughter was derisive and brittle. “I told Mom, let me take care of him for you, he’s hurt you so much. I wanted to kill him. But she said no, that he needed to suffer. She wanted him to suffer. She wanted him destroyed.”

“So she wanted his girlfriends to die.”

“That was my idea. I said, fine, you won’t let me kill Stephen, let me take away his little toys. Maybe if all his little girlies die, maybe he’ll stop. Maybe he’ll come back to you.” He shook his head. “But she wouldn’t let me do it. She said it was too dangerous for me. She was afraid I might be caught and go to prison. She wanted prison for Stephen.”

“Did she do it herself, then?”
Dear God,
Nina thought.
Did I not know this woman at all? Did I not know either of them?

“Of course not. There was someone else.”

“Dr. Overbeck,” Nina said flatly.

“He’d have done anything for her, anything to keep her happy.”

“He told me he’d been in love with her.”

“Maybe. Actually, I thought he’d hated Stephen as much as he loved her. Maybe more.” Kyle shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter, though, the end result was still the same.”

“Why didn’t she just divorce my father if she was so unhappy, Kyle?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He laughed again. “Of course, Overbeck had all the fun. And who knew he’d enjoy it so much? I don’t think him having sex with those girls was part of Mom’s plan, and I can tell you, she didn’t like that one bit. But what was she going to do? She’d created a Frankenstein monster, and couldn’t control it.”

“So what now, Kyle?” she asked softly.

“Now, we take a boat ride.” He nodded in the direction of the bay. “I see your friend has a real nice-looking boat out there. What kind of boat is that?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. I’ll bet it’s nicely equipped, and it looks big enough for a sea cruise. What do you think, Nina? Shall we take her for a spin? I’m wondering if maybe we can’t go right on up the bay and through that canal up near Chestertown, right on out to the ocean. Wouldn’t that be fun?” he smirked.

She couldn’t bring herself to respond. He knew she’d always hated deep water.

“So, Nina—you ever learn how to swim?”

Her answer froze in her throat.

“Well, let’s go see.” He took a small handgun from his pocket and waved it in the direction of the dock. “After you.”

“Kyle . . . “ She tried to think of something to say, but her mind felt frozen.

“Too late to play the helpless little sister card. I can’t protect you now. You should have protected me the way I protected you.”

“Kyle, look, you haven’t done anything.” Her mind began to race. “You didn’t kill anyone, you didn’t hurt anyone. They can’t arrest you for what you haven’t done . . . “

She glanced down at the deck, and noticed the pale red stains on the wood, the footprints he’d made after he’d walked through the water that had spilled out of the pots.

He followed her gaze.

“What can I say? It was my turn.” He smiled. “Why should Overbeck have all the fun?”

“You killed those two girls. Allison Mulroney and Lanie Jacobs.”

“Was that her name? Lanie Jacobs? I didn’t know.”

He waved the gun again.

“Let’s go, Nina.”

It’s going to be okay,
she tried to reassure herself, thinking calm and rational was preferable to panic under the circumstances.
This is where the hero is supposed to show up and save the day. Wes is going to pull up any minute now.

And if he doesn’t?

Her fingers clutched the garden snips. They weren’t very sharp, and they weren’t very big, but they were all she had. She’d have to pick her moment, though. She was definitely outmanned when it came to weapons.

She walked ahead of him along the path through the marsh toward the dock, then down the long wooden walk to the very end where the boat was tied, all the while trying to will away the image that popped into her mind of a pirate walking the plank.

She paused at the end of the dock. The boat had drifted to the end of its rope, too far from the dock for her to board, so Kyle grabbed a line and pulled it toward them, keeping one hand on her arm. She racked her brain for something to say, something that would distract him, but she couldn’t work through the fog of fear.

“Come on, step up,” he instructed her.

She did, and the boat rocked slightly under her feet. She spaced them apart so she could get her balance. He held the gun to her back and directed her toward the cabin.

“I don’t suppose you know where she keeps the key for this thing,” he said.

“Sorry, but no.”

“You’re not sorry. You’re not sorry at all.” He started looking around the cabin, over and under everything that moved, his frustration growing. “But you will be . . . “

On the way out of Stone River, Wes tried Nina’s cell phone three times and Regan’s house phone twice.
She’s probably in the shower,
he told himself after the first attempt.

If she took a shower, she might have the hair dryer on now,
he rationalized after the second. Not knowing how long it took to dry her hair, he gave her ten minutes before trying a third time. When there was still no answer, he pulled over to the side of the road and looked through his wallet for Regan’s number. When he found it, he dialed and pulled back into traffic while listening to it ring and ring. He might have dialed wrong, he told himself. He pulled over and checked the number again. Maybe that one was really a seven. He redialed, but still there was no answer.

I’ll bet Nina’s outside,
he reasoned.
Maybe she’s even outside waiting for me.
He increased his speed and glanced at the clock on the dashboard. He could make it in ten minutes, and he’d actually be on time. He’d told her he’d be there around seven-thirty. It was now sixteen after.

He tried not to think about the body they’d found yesterday, and the family he’d spoken with last night. It had tied him in knots, facing Lanie Jacobs’s mother and father in the station last night. Because they lived in Newark, Delaware, the chief had made the call. When they arrived a few hours later, Wes was just leaving for the night. But he’d passed them in the lobby, and known them by their grief even before they identified themselves to the desk sergeant. In spite of his fatigue, he couldn’t walk by and out of the building, knowing what they were going to be facing over the next several hours. So he turned around, and went back in, and talked with them.

There’d been no consolation for the grieving parents, but he’d stayed with them and offered what support he could. When it was time for them to identify their daughter, he drove them to the medical examiner’s office, and stayed with them through what surely had been the worst night of their lives.