DF08 - The Night Killer (7 page)

Diane looked at the projectile point, as Jonas Briggs, the museum’s archaeologist, called them. She had no idea what kind it was, but it was pretty. Long and jet-black. Near the base on a flake scar was a small rectangle of white paint with neat, tiny black numbers. Roy said he had numbered each of the items in his grandfather’s collections—all according to the carefully penned outline his grandfather did of each point he found, along with a rather charming description of where he found it and what he was doing that day. It must have taken Roy months to find which point matched what outline in his father’s diary. A real labor of love for him.

“Yes, this is one of Roy’s,” said Diane.

“You lying bitch,” said Tammy. “This is the last time we ever try to help anybody out. They can just lie out in the mud for all we care, can’t they, honey?”

Diane ignored her and carefully put the point away, grateful that it hadn’t gotten broken in Slick’s pocket.

“Tammy, why don’t you and Slick go in the house and fix yourselves some of that cocoa you were talking about,” said Conrad.

“Travis, I never would have suspected what a little piece of shit you are,” said Tammy. “No wonder Carol steps out on you. I saw her getting it on with Pryce Moody the other day out by the lake.”

“Tammy, how would you even know what that looks like?” said Deputy Conrad.

“Why, you pig, I ought to scratch your eyes out,” she said, making clawlike movements with her hands.

“Slick,” said Conrad, “why don’t the two of you go inside, like I suggested. And if, on the way, you find anything that belongs to Miss Fallon, just toss it over here.”

Slick and his girlfriend, Tammy, turned and walked inside, hurling a few more insults that Diane didn’t quite hear. She shook her head.
What a pair.

Travis climbed in the back with Diane and looked over the boxes she was repacking.

“Roy was so proud that the museum was interested in his arrowhead collection. He said he might get a plaque with his and his grandfather’s name on it hanging in the museum. He was worried that you might not accept the collection, ’cause he didn’t have an exact location where they were found.”

“His grandfather left a detailed diary telling generally where he found things in the woods,” said Diane. “We don’t have an exact location, but our archaeologist assures me that the collection will be useful—at the very least, to catalog the types of points found in the area.”

“So Roy’ll get his plaque?” asked Deputy Conrad.

“Yes,” said Diane. “This is going to be a nice collection for the museum.”

Travis Conrad nodded. “Good. I’d like to put that in his obituary, that he’s getting a plaque. He’d be proud.”

“Yes, he would,” said Diane. “I’m glad Mr. Massey didn’t get into the boxes with the really large points,” said Diane.

“He’d of taken them for sure,” said Deputy Conrad. “I was thinking about
Dances with Wolves
, ’bout them soldiers wiping their butts with John Dunbar’s diary. Slick didn’t get Ray’s grandfather’s diary, I hope?”

“No. Fortunately, we have that. Our archaeologist has been studying it,” said Diane.

Travis nodded. “Tell me, were you bullshitting about the details of that skeleton?” he asked.

“No. All the information I mentioned I got from the skull. It’s pretty standard observation in my business. Although I didn’t see it for very long, I did get a reasonably good look at it. I may be wrong on some of the details, but I wasn’t making it up. They got rid of a human skeleton somewhere,” said Diane. “It had been cemented up in that hollow tree for no longer than a year. I’m fairly certain of that.”

Diane got out of the vehicle and walked across the road to the ditch, where Slick had dumped the pieces of the rotten tree. Deputy Conrad followed her. She looked through the pile and picked up a curved piece of wood and a piece of concrete.

“Souvenirs?” asked Conrad.

“I thought this would make a nice bowl,” she said, smiling.

“This . . . this thing . . . that happened to Roy and Ozella will take all our time,” he said. “We don’t have the manpower to investigate this right now.”

“I understand. You don’t mind if I take some souvenirs, do you?” she said.

“No, just let me know if they are interesting,” he said.

“Sure. Listen, try to convince your father to call in the GBI,” said Diane.

Travis nodded. “I’ll have the coroner on my side. He’s the local large- animal veterinarian, and he’ll be just as out of his depth as I am. I know how to lift fingerprints, but that’s the end of my expertise. I think Daddy will see it our way.”

“Who will do the autopsies?” asked Diane.

“That’s a good question. That will be the coroner’s choice,” he said.

“You might think about Lynn Webber. She’s in Rosewood,” said Diane.

“For Daddy’s part, that’s two strikes against her. She’s from Rosewood, and she’s a she. Sheriff Conrad is kind of traditional about women.”

“Lynn is very charming,” said Diane.

Travis grinned at Diane. “It’d take a lot to charm Daddy.”

“Like you said, it’s the coroner’s choice,” she said. She walked back to her vehicle and put the wood and concrete in the back.

“That it is,” he said. “You know, I’m afraid we’ve left you with a real bad impression of us here in Rendell County. There’s good people here. They’re very conservative and traditional, but they are hardworking, God-fearing people who want to keep their kids safe from a lot of the bad stuff that goes on in the big cities.”

“I know. I liked the Barres a lot. I’m sure there are many others like them here,” said Diane. “I hope there’re not too many like Slick and Tammy.”

“They are fairly unique,” he said. “Listen, Daddy’s going to want to talk to you. He’ll probably give me hell for letting you go home, but I figure you’ve been through enough for one night. And it’s not like we don’t know where to find you.”

“Call me when you need me to give a statement,” said Diane. She looked over at the Massey house. The lights were still on. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor. I know you have to get back, but could you lead me to the main road to Rosewood?”

He grinned. “Sure. That won’t be no problem. I got to get to a phone and call Daddy anyway. Get in and follow me.”

Diane was relieved. She fully believed that Slick would follow her if she were alone. She shouldn’t have been such a show-off about the bones. It alerted them that she knew too much. She got in the SUV and followed Deputy Conrad as he pulled out and drove down the muddy road toward civilization.

When Diane was well on her way to Rosewood on the paved road, Deputy Conrad turned around and drove back, tapping his horn and waving as he passed. Diane stopped at a service station to fill up. As the pump filled the tank, she pulled out her cell and called Frank.
He must be frantic
, she thought.

Frank Duncan was Diane’s friend, lover, confidant, adviser, the person she most trusted, and the person she lived with—and the person who was probably out looking for her. Frank wasn’t someone who monitored her time, or worried over the time she spent at her jobs, but she was hours late.

Frank was a detective in the Metro-Atlanta Fraud & Computer Forensics Unit. Though he lived in Rosewood, he worked in Atlanta, about ninety miles away from his quiet home. He was good at his job. And he was good for her.

“Diane,” he said. “God, Diane, where are you?”

Diane heard the worry in his voice and felt guilty that she had caused it. Not that she had been given a choice.

“Frank, you don’t know how good it is to hear your voice. I’m filling up the gas tank on the way back. I’ll be in Rosewood in about forty-five minutes. Can you meet me at the museum?” she said.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Where have you been?”

“I’m fine, now. It’s a really long story, Frank. There was no cell service and no working landlines up in the mountains. I’m sorry to have worried you. Let me tell it to you face-to-face,” she said.

“Something’s happened.” It sounded more like a statement than a question.

“Yes, a lot of things happened. I’ll tell you all about it when I get to the museum,” she said. “Call David and Jin, please, and ask them to meet me there too. Apologize for me. I know they’ll be in bed asleep, but I need them,” she said.

“I’ll call both of them. Izzy’s here with me. We’ll meet you at the museum parking lot.”

David was Diane’s assistant director of the crime lab. He had worked with her when she investigated human rights abuses around the world. They both quit that work after a tragic massacre aimed at intimidating them. It hadn’t made them afraid, but it did make them grief-stricken. Diane took the job as director of the museum and hired David when the city wanted her to house a crime lab in the museum’s building. Jin and Izzy were two of her crime scene crew. Jin, a transplant from New York, worked in the DNA lab, and Izzy was a Rosewood police officer who wanted a change after his own personal tragedy. He was also Frank’s best friend.

“Are you sure you’re all right? You don’t seem fine,” he said.

“I’m not injured,” she amended. “I am very tired.”

She wasn’t sure about mental injury. She was exhausted—her adrenaline seemed to be running out again. She’d explored caves and climbed rock faces for a longer period of time than she was lost in the woods. Why was she so exhausted?

Because you were afraid all that time
, she said to herself. She was still frightened—scared that someone was following her.

And Diane was sick about the Barres. Who had done this to them? While she was out in the woods trying to get to their house, who was killing them? And why?

Diane said good-bye to Frank, closed her cell, and put it in her pocket. She had taken off the poncho, rolled it up, and put it in the passenger seat, glad Deputy Conrad hadn’t asked for it. At the same time, she was disappointed that he hadn’t requested it, suggesting that he—as he confessed—didn’t really know how to investigate a crime like murder.

Diane drove the SUV from the gas pumps and parked in front of the door to the convenience store. She walked to the back to the women’s restroom. It was small and relatively clean, thank goodness.

She washed her hands and scrubbed with soap the tender red scratches on her arm made by Slick, mentally cursing him. She looked at her face in the mirror. No one who knew her would recognize her right now, she thought. There were deep, dark circles under her eyes and scratches on her face where limbs and underbrush had whipped and slapped at her. Her short brown hair was tangled and plastered to her head from the rain. She actually looked worse than she felt.

Diane washed her face, wetting her shirt again after it had almost dried after the drenching rain. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to get the tangles out and to get her hair to do something besides lie flat. Tammy, apparently, had also taken her comb. She examined herself again in the mirror. She didn’t look great, but she wouldn’t scare children now. She cupped her hand and rinsed her mouth out with tap water.

When she finished, she bought a cup of black coffee, two Milky Way candy bars, a tube of Neosporin, a box of Kleenex, a small bottle of mouthwash, a pocket comb, and a tire gauge.

“Looks like you’ve been out in the rain,” said the clerk, a girl who looked too young to be working at night by herself. “I hate carrying umbrellas too. I’d rather just get wet.”

But an umbrella could make a great weapon in a pinch
, Diane thought. “The rain kind of messes with your hair, though,” she said, smiling. She paid for the purchases and walked out to her car.

She scanned the parking lot, particularly the shadowy places, looking for a vehicle that might be waiting for her.
Paranoid
, she accused herself. But she wasn’t altogether confident that Slick hadn’t followed her. She shivered and got in her SUV, thankful for the people who were coming and going from the store, despite the hour of the night.

First, she rubbed the Neosporin into the scratches on her arm with a tissue, hoping they weren’t going to get infected. After the first aid, she used the mouthwash to rinse the stale taste of twenty-four hours away from a toothbrush from her mouth and return her taste buds to normal. Much better. She ate the candy bars and drank her coffee. The coffee was old and bitter, but the hot liquid felt good going down her throat, and the caffeine would have a welcome kick. Then she combed her hair. That would have to do.

She got out and measured the air in her tires. Just the thought of a flat tire put her stomach in a knot.
Shit
, she thought, as she checked the last tire. She hadn’t looked, but she’d bet Slick and Tammy had stolen her spare tire. “Of course they did,” she said out loud. “Why wouldn’t they have? I was lucky they hadn’t completely stripped the vehicle.”

She opened the back and looked in the spare-tire compartment. It was there. “I guess I owe them an apology,” she muttered.

Diane got back in the SUV and drove out onto the road, glad to be on her way again. The coffee and sugar were already revving up her system. She felt better.

As she drove, she checked and rechecked her rearview mirror, looking for headlights that came too close, or a truck silhouette she might recognize. But the headlights were always too bright for her to make out anything. And nobody tailgated.

She wanted to call Frank back and talk with him the remaining way to Rosewood. That would make her feel safe, but she would be focused on the conversation and not on the road in front of and behind her.

“Stop it,” she said out loud. “Just stop. What has happened to you? You’ve been through worse and come out better than this.” She pressed the gas pedal and accelerated as fast as she dared on the dark two-lane road, relieved that it was paved, always watching the headlights behind her. There weren’t many cars out on the road between Rendell and Rose counties that time of night. It was a lonely stretch of road. She accelerated again, leaving the headlights behind her.