The Trophy Exchange (47 page)

Sixty-Two

Lucinda stared at the crime
-
scene photos and timelines looking for a hidden answer, for the slightest thing she may have overlooked. She didn
’
t move her eye away as she answered her ringing cell.
“
Pierce.
”

“
Where?
”
she said sinking into a chair.
“
Omigod, no.
”
She felt the blood rush from her face and numb
nes
s crawl along her lips.
“
We
’
ll be right there,
”
she said disconnecting the call. But she didn
’
t move. She sat slumped in the seat, shaking her head.

“
We
’
ll be right where, Lucinda?
”
Ted asked.

“
Poplar Street, Ted.
”

“
Poplar Street.
”

“
Yeah. Afraid so. I
’
m not certain but it sounds like the same house we checked out.
”
She shook her head and
jumped
to her feet.
“
Let
’
s go.
”

Dark thoughts swirled through her mind as they headed in silence to the crime scene.
Had
her insistence to follow the rules lead to someone
’
s death? If she
’
d let Ted break in, could they have saved a life?
Oh, please, God, don’t let it be the same house.

But it was. She pulled up to the curb and headed up to the house with dread. She stepped through the open door and saw a familiar face.
“
Dr Sam!
”

He grunted in response.

“
When did it happen?
”
she asked, praying it was an hour ago, a week ago
–
any time far before or after the minutes she
’d
spent walking around that house.

“’
Bout
three
days ago, looks like,
”
Dr Sam said.

“
Between
five thirty
and
six
in the evening?
”

“
Humpf. I can
’
t be that precise. You know that. What
’
s the matter with you?
”

She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“
I know. I know. I
’
m sorry. Is it our guy?
”

“
Looks like it, maybe. But if it was, he was interrupted.
”

“
Why do you say that?
”

“
Come look,
”
he said as he shambled down the hall.
“
See that pot next to her face. He smashed her with that but not as many times as usual
,
like someone interrupted him before he could finish the job.
”

The thud she
’d
heard, when she first stepped on the stoop t
hree
days ago, echoed in her head.

“
We interrupted him, Lucinda,
”
Ted said.
“
He stopped when we rang the doorbell.
”

“
Rang the doorbell!
”
Dr Sam squawked.
“
You were here when this happened?
”

Lucinda sighed.
“
Looks like it. Doc.
”

“
And you let him get away?
”

She winced.
“
Yes. I guess we did.
”

Ted reached out a hand and touched his partner
’
s arm.
“
Lucinda, she was dead before we got here. He
’
d already strangled her before we rang the bell. We couldn
’
t have saved her.
’

“
Yeah. But like Dr Sam said, we let him get away.
”
She hadn
’
t felt this bad since the day she read the note pinned to the lifeless body of an innocent little boy
–
the note that pinned the blame on her. And she felt it now, pushing down on her shoulders, making her feel small.

Sixty-Three

He parked the BMW several blocks away from the Spencer home. The intensity of his bubbling excitement tensed every muscle in his body. He worked hard at appearing relaxed and casual as he walked up the street to his brother
’
s house.

He slipped over the backyard fence in the shadow of a large oak tree and crouched over as he scampered for the detached garage. He peered in the side window and saw Kathleen
’
s Honda. The space for Evan
’
s car was empty. Good.

He dashed for the back of the house and stopped by the large angled metal doors that led to the cellar. He pulled a small key out of his pocket, stuck it in the padlock and turned. When he heard it click open, he was relieved.

He
’
d worried that someone would notice he
’
d sawed through the lock he
’
d found there a couple of months ago and had replaced it with the one he purchased and installed the day before Kathleen
’
s murder.

He slipped the lock out of the hasp and eased up one of the doors, wincing when it squeaked. He looked around for observers but saw no eyes on him. He went down a couple of steps
,
swinging an arm to brush away the cobwebs.

He set the padlock on the top step hoping no one would notice it was missing outside. He pulled on the open door and
,
holding it with both hands over his head, he slowly lowered it as he backed down the steps.

With his feet on the dirt floor, he stood motionless
,
breathing deeply of the musty air while he waited for his eyes to adjust to the near absence of light. Slowly, the monster-shape in the corner revealed itself to be an old coal furnace never dismantled after the oil furnace beside it was put into commission.

He made his way across the packed earth floor to the door to the laundry room. He opened it a crack and listened. Indistinguishable voices drifted down the stairs
–
the squeaks of the little girls, the deeper voice of the babysitter. He listened to small footsteps moving about above his head.

He knew it was risky to turn on the light
,
b
ut the spot where he
’d
left Kathleen called to him, tempted him to emerge from the back room. He stepped into the laundry room, walked to the bottom of the stairway and flipped the switch. He stood transfixed staring at the spot where Kathleen
’
s body had rested. He mentally revisited the exquisite moments of her struggle against the rope around her neck. He savored the feel of her weight in his hands as he held the rope and her body hung limp in its embrace. He remembered marking the passage of time on the gold watch she wore on her wrist.

He shivered as he recalled easing her body to the floor. His knees weakened and shook as he relived every blow to her face with the concrete block. He leaned back against the wall for support.

He closed his eyes and visualized his hands fastening the clasp of the turquoise cross around her neck.
“
Perfection,
”
he whispered.
What a fitting farewell to my brother’s Jewish Princess
. Not one of the other deaths was as gratifying as hers was to him. Now he had a plan to recapture the magic of that murder. He would kill one of Kathleen
’
s daughters. A mini-Kathleen, he thought, it will be like killing her all over again.

He
’
d seen both of the girls the month before when he
’
d slipped into the basement in the middle of the night. He
’d
cased out the upstairs that time. He
’d
stood over his brother and watched him sleep. He
’
d slipped Evan
’
s wallet into his pocket before creeping down the hall to the other bedrooms. The first one he
’d
entered belonged to that whiny little baby he
’d
ignored while he tended to Kathleen. That daughter annoyed him because she made him think of the stupid baby brother his mother had forced on him so long ago.

He went into the room next to Ruby
’
s and saw a pristine guest room. He went up the hall and entered Charley
’
s room. He stood over her bed for a long time watching the rise and fall of her chest as she slept. She looked so much like Kathleen, it made his hands itch not to kill her right then and there. But he didn
’
t have his tools. He wasn
’
t ready. He reached down and brushed a strand of hair from her face. She stirred and moaned. He backed away, headed downstairs and out of the house.

Now he was back and he was prepared. He knew just where he would find her again. The keenness of his anticipation burned like a hot coal in his chest.

The sound of a car pulling up the driveway and into the garage broke his reverie. He put his hand on the light switch, took one last, longing look at the spot where Kathleen
had
died and turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness again. He walked back to the unfinished section of the basement and pulled the door shut until it clicked.

He moved into a corner where the darkness was at its deepest and sat down on the dirt floor.
“
Now, we wait,
”
he said out loud as he heard the heavy tread of his brother
’
s footsteps enter the house.