Once Gone (26 page)

“Oh, yes, I remember,” Madeline said as she looked at it. “That was a crazy day, several weeks ago.”

Riley’s attention quickened.

“Crazy?” Riley asked. “How so?”

Madeline knitted her brow as she recollected.

“A collector came in,” she said. “He bought twenty dolls at once. I was surprised that he had the money. He didn’t look all that rich. He was just a rather sad-looking older man. I gave him a special price. Things were really a mess while my girl and I rang up all that merchandise. We’re not used to that kind of business. Everything was in turmoil for a little while there.”

Riley’s mind clicked away, putting this information together.

“Was Reba Frye in the store at the same time as this collector?” she asked.

Madeline nodded. “Why yes,” she said. “Now that you mention it, she was here right then.”

“Do you keep a record of your customers?” Riley asked. “With contact information?”

“Yes, I do,” Madeline said.

“I need to see the man’s name and address,” Riley said. “It’s very important.”

Madeline’s expression grew more wary.

“You said the Senator gave you this receipt?” she asked.

“How else could I have gotten it?” Riley asked.

 Madeline nodded. “I’m sure that’s true, but still …”

She paused, struggling with her decision.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she blurted, “but I can’t do it—let you look at the records, I mean. You don’t even have any identification, and my customers deserve their privacy. No, really, Senator or no Senator, I can’t let you look at it without a warrant. I’m sorry, but it just doesn’t seem right to me. I hope you understand.”

Riley took a long breath as she tried to assess the situation. She didn’t doubt that Bill would show up here as soon as he could. But how soon would that be? And would the woman still insist on seeing a warrant? How much more time might that involve? For all Riley knew, someone’s life might be hanging in the balance right that very minute.

“I understand,” Riley said. “But is it okay if I just look around here a bit? I might find some clues.”

Madeline nodded. “Of course,” she said. “Take as long as you like.”

A distraction tactic quickly took shape in Riley’s mind. She began to browse among the dolls while Madeline tidied up some of the accessories. Riley reached up onto a high shelf as if trying to fetch down a doll. Instead, she managed to knock a whole row of dolls off the shelf.

“Oh!” Riley said. “I’m so sorry!”

She backed away in the clumsiest manner she could muster. She collided with a rack of accessories and knocked them all over.

“Oh, I’m so, so sorry!” Riley said again.

“It’s all right,” Madeline said with more than a note of irritation. “Just—just let me take care of it.”

Madeline started to pick up the scattered merchandise. Riley hastily left the room and headed for the front desk. Glancing to make sure that Madeline wasn’t watching her, Riley dived behind the desk. She quickly spotted a ledger book on a shelf under the cash register.

Her fingers shaking, Riley thumbed through the ledger. She quickly found the date, the name of the man, and his address. She didn’t have time to write it down, so she committed it to memory.

She had just stepped out from behind the counter when Madeline returned from the back room. Madeline looked genuinely suspicious now.

“You’d really better leave,” she said. “If you come back with a warrant, I’ll be able to help. I certainly want to help the Senator and his family in any way I can. I feel terrible about all they’re going through. But right now—well, I think you should leave.”

Riley made a beeline toward the front door.

“I—I understand,” she stammered. “I’m terribly sorry.”

She rushed to her car and got in. She took out her cell phone and called Bill’s number.

“Bill, I’ve got a name!” she almost shouted when he answered. “His name is Gerald Cosgrove. And I’ve got his address.”

Remembering carefully, Riley recited the address to Bill.

“I’m only a few minutes away,” Bill said. “I’ll call in his name and address, see what kind of information the Bureau can turn up. I’ll get back to you right away.”

Bill ended the phone call. Riley fidgeted, waiting impatiently. She looked back at the store and noticed that Madeline was standing near the window, looking out at her suspiciously. Riley couldn’t blame Madeline for her mistrust. Her behavior just now had been more than a little odd.

Riley’s cell phone buzzed. She answered it.

“Bingo,” Bill said. “The guy’s a registered sex offender. The address you gave me isn’t far. You’re maybe a little closer to him than I am.”

“I’m driving there right now,” Riley said, stepping on the gas.

“For Christ’s sake, Riley, don’t go in there alone!” he barked back. “Wait for me outside. I’ll get there as soon as I can. Do you hear me?”

Riley ended the call and drove away. No, she could not wait.

*

Less than fifteen minutes later, Riley pulled up to a dusty, isolated lot. A shabby-looking mobile home sat in the middle of it. Riley parked her car and got out.

An old car was parked on the street in front of the lot, but Riley didn’t see any sign of the truck the witness described after Cindy MacKinnon’s abduction. Of course, Cosgrove might well be keeping it somewhere else. Or perhaps he had dumped it for fear that it might be traced.

Riley shuddered when she saw a couple of sheds with padlocked doors at the back of the lot. Was that where he had kept the women? Was he holding one right now, torturing her and preparing to kill her?

Riley looked around, taking in the area. The lot wasn’t completely isolated. There were a few houses and mobile homes not far away. Even so, it seemed likely that no one live near enough to hear a woman screaming in one of those sheds.

Riley drew her gun and approached the trailer. It was set up on a permanent foundation, and it looked like it had been there for many years. Some time ago, someone had planted a flower bed alongside the trailer to make it look more like a regular house. But now the bed was overrun with weeds.

So far, the place matched her expectations. She felt certain that she’d come to the right place.

“It’s all over for you, you bastard,” she murmured under her breath. “You’ll never take another victim.”

When she reached the trailer, she banged on the metal door.

“Gerald Cosgrove!” she yelled. “This is the FBI. Are you in there?”

There was no answer. Riley edged her way up onto the cinderblock steps and peered through the door’s little window. What she saw inside chilled her to the bone.

The place seemed to be packed full of dolls. She didn’t see a living soul, just dolls of all shapes and sizes.

Riley shook the door handle. It was locked. She banged on the door again. This time she heard a man’s voice.

“Go away. Leave me alone. I didn’t do anything.”

Riley thought she heard someone scrambling around inside. The trailer door was designed to open outward, so she couldn’t kick it in. She fired her gun at the locked handle. The door fell open.

Riley burst into the small main room. She was momentarily dazzled by the sheer number and array of dolls. There must have been hundreds of them. They were simply everywhere—on shelves, on tables, and even on the floor. It took a moment for her to see a man among them, cowering on the floor against a partition wall.

“Don’t shoot,” Cosgrove pleaded, his hands raised and shaking. “I didn’t do it. Don’t shoot me.”

Riley sprung at him and yanked him to his feet. She spun him around and pulled one hand behind his back. She holstered her handgun and got out her cuffs.

“Give me your other hand,” she said.

Shaking from head to foot, he obeyed without hesitation. Riley quickly had him cuffed and sitting awkwardly in a chair.

He was a weak-looking man in his sixties with thin gray hair. He cut a pathetic figure, sitting there with tears running down his face. But Riley wasted no pity on him. The spectacle of all these dolls was enough to tell her that he was a sick, twisted man.

Before she could ask any questions, she heard Bill’s voice.

“Jesus, Riley. Did you blow open this door?”

Riley turned and saw Bill stepping into the trailer.

“He wouldn’t open up,” Riley said.

Bill growled under his breath. “I thought I told you to wait outside,” he said.

“And I thought you knew better than to think I would,” Riley said. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here. This looks like our guy.”

The man was wailing now.

“I didn’t do it! It wasn’t me! I did my time! I put all that stuff behind me!”

Riley asked Bill, “What did you find out about him?”

“He did some time for attempted child molestation. Nothing since—until now.”

This made good enough sense to Riley. This monstrous little man had undoubtedly moved on to bigger prey—and to greater cruelty.

“That was years ago,” the man said. “I’ve been good ever since. I take my meds. I don’t get those urges anymore. It’s all in the past. You’ve made a mistake.”

Bill asked in a cynical tone, “So you’re an innocent man, eh?”

“That’s right. Whatever you think I did, it wasn’t me.”

“So what’s with all the dolls?” Riley asked.

Through his tears, Cosgrove smiled brokenly.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” he said. “I collected them little by little. I got lucky a few weeks back, found this great store over in Shellysford. So many dolls and so many different dresses. I spent my whole Social Security check right there and then, bought as many as my money could get me.”

Bill shook his head. “I sure as hell don’t want to know what you do with them,” he said.

“It’s not what you think,” Cosgrove said. “They’re like my family. My only friends. They’re all I’ve got. I just stay home with them. It’s not like I can afford to go anywhere. They treat me right. They don’t judge me.”

Again, Riley worried. Was Cosgrove holding a victim right now?

“I want to check your sheds out back,” she told him.

“Go ahead,” he said. “There’s nothing there. I’ve got nothing to hide. The keys are right over there.”

He nodded toward a bunch of keys hanging next to the wounded door. Riley walked over and grabbed them.

“I’m going out there for a look,” she said.

“Not without me, you’re not,” Bill said.

Together, Bill and Riley used Bill’s cuffs to fasten Cosgrove to his refrigerator door. Then they stepped outside and walked around the trailer. They opened the first shed’s padlock and looked inside. There was nothing in there except a garden rake.

Bill stepped into the shed and looked around.

“Nothing,” he said. “Not even any sign of blood.”

They walked over to the next shed, unlocked it, and looked inside. Aside from a rusty hand lawnmower, the shed was completely empty.

“He must have held them somewhere else,” Bill said.

Bill and Riley went back to into the trailer. Cosgrove was still sitting there, gazing wretchedly at his family of dolls. Riley found him a troubling sight—a man with no real life of his own, and certainly no future.

Still, he struck her as an enigma. She decided to ask him a couple of questions.

“Gerald, where were you last Wednesday morning?”

“What?” Cosgrove replied. “What do you mean? I don’t know. I don’t remember Wednesday. Here, I guess. Where else would I be?”

Riley gazed at him with increasing curiosity.

“Gerald,” she said, “what day is today?”

Cosgrove’s eyes darted around in desperate confusion.

“I—I don’t know,” he stammered.

Riley wondered—could it possibly be true? Did he not know what day it was? He sounded perfectly sincere. He certainly didn’t seem bitter or angry. She saw no fight in him at all. Just fear and desperation.

Then she sternly reminded herself not to let him take her in. A true psychopath could sometimes fool even a seasoned veteran with a total lie.

Bill unfastened Cosgrove from the refrigerator. Cosgrove was still cuffed behind his back.

Bill barked out, “Gerald Cosgrove, you’re under arrest for the murders of three women …”

Bill and Riley escorted him roughly out of the trailer as Bill continued with the victims’ names and Cosgrove’s rights. Then they shoved him to the car Bill had driven here—a well-equipped Bureau vehicle with mesh caging between the back and front seats. Riley and Bill pushed him into the back seat. They strapped and cuffed him in securely. Afterwards they both just stood for a moment without saying a word.

“Damn it, Riley, you did it,” Bill muttered with admiration. “You caught the bastard—even without your badge. The Bureau’s going to welcome you back with open arms.”

“Do you want me to ride with you?” Riley asked.

Bill shrugged. “Naw, I’ve got him under control. I’ll get him into custody. You just take your own car back.”

Riley decided not to argue, wondering if Bill still harbored resentment toward her for the other night.

As she watched Bill pull away, Riley wanted to congratulate herself on her success, and her redemption. But any feeling of satisfaction evaded her. Something kept nagging at her. She kept hearing her father’s words.

You just keep following that gut of yours.

Little by little as she drove, Riley started to realize something.

Her gut was telling her that they’d gotten the wrong man.

The next morning Riley drove April to school, and as she dropped her off, that gut feeling was still nagging at her. It had bothered her all night, not letting her sleep.

Is he the guy?
she kept asking herself.

Before April got out of the car, she turned to her with an expression of genuine concern.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” she asked.

Riley was a little taken aback by the question. She and her daughter seemed to have entered into a whole new phase of their relationship—a much better one than they’d had before. Still, Riley wasn’t used to having April worry about her feelings. It felt good, but strange.

“It shows, huh?” Riley said.