The agent released a breath. “We still don’t have an approximate time of death. There are so many factors to consider given the body’s state of . . .” He seemed to think better of what he’d been about to say and switched tacks. “There will be more tests. If necessary, we’ll get a forensic anthropologist to help. At this point, we are certain that she was a TMK victim.”
Puzzled, David stared at him. “Well, of course. That’s obvious.”
“There’s been at least one copycat crime.” Mark looked ill at ease, as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. David couldn’t blame him. He’d prefer to be elsewhere, too. But that relief was going to be denied him for the near future. “And the body wasn’t found in the location where other victims were left. The wire used on her fingers and foot to pose her, however, is exactly the same as used on the others. It may even have come from the same roll.”
“You can tell that?”
Mark nodded. “The scientists at the lab can. The DNA tests on the body, of course, positively identified her.”
“Do you think the same person took the girl from Saxon Falls?”
The agent hesitated, then said, “It seems likely at this point.”
“What about the photographer?” David wanted this over. Really over. And that wouldn’t happen until someone paid for his daughter’s death.
“We’ve been focusing on him for the last few days.” The man seemed to be more comfortable with the conversation since it had drifted away from Kelsey. “We found pictures of your daughter on his computer. He was questioned after she disappeared, because a couple of kids at school reported seeing them talking one day. But he gave a plausible story at the time about her asking about a locker that stuck. There was no reason then to look harder at him.” The man clasped his hands, the fingers lacing loosely. “He also has a connection with the church Kelsey used to attend with your wife. This individual worked part-time for Pastor Mikkelsen.”
“So he could have seen her there. Maybe at youth camp or activities.” David stared at the floor. “He could have encountered her years before she ever went to the high school. She was just fourteen when she . . .” His throat closed for a moment, making further words impossible. It was a minute before he could continue. “She was a beautiful girl. Got a lot of attention wherever we went. Ever since she was a baby, really. Claire used to take her to these silly pageants, but Kelsey did well in them. She loved dressing up and getting makeup and hair done.” He smiled a little to himself. “So different from Janie in a lot of ways.”
“I’ve been through the files,” Mark said quietly. “The pageant lead was exhaustively investigated.”
“According to your colleagues, every lead was exhaustively investigated.” It was so much simpler to feel anger than grief. To let it channel into a fury that could be wielded like a weapon. “But seven years later, my daughter’s dead. And you still don’t seem any closer to locking up her killer.”
“Mom’s still in her room.”
David looked up from making himself a bowl of soup he didn’t want. “Have you eaten?” he asked Janie. He should have thought of that before now. He had to get better at remembering he still had a daughter, and she was hurting every bit as much as he and Claire were. Shame stabbed through him at the reminder. Too often, it was Janie checking up on them. Cooking a pizza to tempt them. Calling their attention to a favorite show on TV. Her efforts had largely been in vain, but he appreciated her thoughtfulness. All he’d managed to do for her was to make the initial call to her therapist to apprise him of what had happened.
“No. But neither has Mom. Not all day. The door’s locked. I think someone should check on her.”
“Have this soup.” He thrust the bowl at her. “I’ll go up and unlock the door. I’m sure she’s asleep. Probably took another sedative.”
His daughter’s gaze was anxious. “Is anyone keeping track of what she’s taking? And how often?”
Something inside him softened. “It’s going to be okay, baby. I don’t want you feeling like you’re the caretaker around here. These are hard times—the hardest. But we’ll get through them.”
“We have to take care of each other.” She pulled out a drawer and got a spoon as he headed out of the room. “And Dad? Count the pills in her bottles every day, okay?”
He managed a reassuring smile that faded as he left the room. Poor kid. As if losing her sister wasn’t enough trauma, he and Claire were adding to her worry. He took the steps two at a time, careful to remain quiet. He’d look in on his wife, but he was hoping that he was correct and she was asleep. Dr. Schultz said that was the best thing for her now. Give her mind a chance to empty of the horrors visited upon them until she was strong enough to deal with them. David wondered if that day would ever come.
If he were honest with himself, he really wasn’t up to dealing with his wife right now. He knew his role as head of the family, but there were times that role felt like a paper fa?ade, too close to crumpling. If only he could sleep. Just for a few hours to clear his mind. But every time he closed his eyes, images of Kelsey flashed through his brain, morphing and melding so rapidly, he could barely get a glimpse of one before it merged with another. Her voice would ring through his head clearly. Accusing. Filled with contempt. This is your fault. This is all your fault.
If Claire’s pills could wipe his mind clean—just for a night—maybe he should try a couple. Just once.
They kept the key on top of the doorjamb. He was the only one in the household tall enough to reach it without a stool. They’d placed keys above any room with a lock back when the kids were small enough to occasionally lock themselves into a room and then shriek until someone got them out. It took only a moment for him to reach up and find the key. To unlock the door and ease it open.
There was a kick in his chest when he saw her stretched out on the bed lying so very still, arms at her sides. But as he stepped into the room, David could see that her eyes were open, although she wasn’t looking at him.
He pulled the door shut behind him. “I’m warming up soup. You should come eat something.”
“Are you still seeing her?”
Her voice was so low that David stepped closer to the bed in order to hear better. “What?”
“Tiffany.”
He froze, a paralysis brought on by shock and remorse. Her head turned as if in slow motion so she could look at him. Her pupils were dilated. But Janie’s earlier concern for her mother was the furthest thing from his mind right now.
“Tiffany who?” He was stalling, buying time. But he already knew that in this instance, time had finally run out.
“Tiffany White. You had an affair. At the lake house. Are you still seeing her?”
A torrent of guilt flooded through him. It rose higher and higher, threatening to submerge him completely. It wasn’t that he’d thought this day would never come. But somehow he’d never considered he’d be faced with it while he was already frantically treading the churning waters of grief. David couldn’t handle this conversation right now. And frankly, neither could his wife. “Claire, that’s the medication talking.”