Sala changed places with her, took the rudder. “They haven’t found many more bones in the last half hour, so that’s good, I guess.”
Was it? How few was good? How many bones was too many? Ty remembered the Green River Killer in Washington, how the detectives still argued over the details of the case. So many women murdered, so many never found. She remembered her father telling her mother to never be out alone. Ty drew in a deep breath. Had she come across her own Green River Killer here at Lake Massey? She was terrified she wouldn’t catch him, because more people might be murdered, and it would be on her head now. She was in charge, and she would have to bury her doubts, her private fears so deep, she herself couldn’t find them. Like her dad always said, one step at a time. It was time for her to take that first step. Ty handed Sala a bottle of cold water from the ice chest. They both drank. It was going to be a scorcher today, no fog left to cool things down, only brilliant sun overhead. She’d given him a hat. They wore sunglasses and had so much sunscreen slathered on their faces, their noses were white.
Sala looked tired. Ty didn’t know when he’d finally fallen asleep the previous night, but she’d been aware on some level that he’d tossed and turned, undoubtedly reliving what had happened, churning with guilt
even though none of it had been his fault. But otherwise, he was holding up. The fresh air was good for him, not to mention the two cups of her Turkish espresso she’d given him. It was almost as thick as sludge and would jump-start anything with a pulse.
Ty looked out toward the pontoon some twenty yards ahead of them. They had to stop every few minutes and pull in the big net, clean it out. How many morons had thrown their beer bottles into the lake? She said, “So far this morning they’ve found the bones of maybe ten more people. Ten people, Sala, human beings, murdered and tossed into the lake like they were refuse. And we never would have found them if I hadn’t seen Octavia killed.”
At the sound of Octavia’s name, Sala felt his throat close up. He swallowed, made himself focus on Charlie and Hanger sorting through garbage in the net. There were only the two of them today. Charlie raised a femur, showed it to Ty. Sala said, “If I know Dr. Thomas, he’s at Quantico right now—Sunday—examining the bones they took to him yesterday.”
Another few minutes passed. Hanger had pulled the pontoon closer to shore, nearer the Gatewood dock, and hovered a moment there. They watched Charlie lean over the side of the pontoon, straighten, and shout, “Chief, I see more bones.”
Ty kicked up the motor and eased her runabout alongside the pontoon. Hanger had pulled up the net. “Look, it’s another man’s loafer, nothing inside. The loafer’s nearly disintegrated. And look at this. A belt buckle.” Hanger cleaned it off with a towel and held it up. “It looks like it’s real gold. It’s a Star of David belt buckle. Never seen anything like that before. No belt, guess it rotted away a long time ago.”
Ty felt a rush of hope. They hadn’t found any ID’s, the killer must have taken them. What had survived—some belts, shoes, bits of fabric—could have been purchased anywhere. But this belt buckle was unique. Hanger handed it to her, and she polished it even more before she studied it. “It’s very distinctive. You’re right, Hanger. I’ll bet there aren’t many of these around.”
Sala said, “It looks handmade. This could be very big, Ty.”
One step at a time. “We can start by announcing this belt buckle to the media. Maybe someone will recognize it, and we’ll have ID. It’s a huge start.”
Sala fished out his cell to call Savich. One ring, two, then—“Hang on, Sala. I’ve got to shoot my free throw in the brand-new net I put up a few minutes ago against my mother’s garage.” A moment later, “Nailed it.” Sala heard Sean hooting in the background. “Okay, it’s Sean’s turn. Talk to me.”
Sala told him about the gold Star of David belt buckle and their plan to publicize it. “We all agree, it’s got to be one of a kind.”
Savich heard excitement, not guilt or pain, in Sala’s voice. “Yes, I agree,” Savich said.
“Ty and I have been out on the lake all morning, so no TV. Did you get Victor Nesser’s photo out?”
“Yes. His photo and bio are being plastered all over the networks in the tri-states.”
“Do I want to know how you found him so quickly? Even before the prints were identified this morning?”
Savich said smoothly, “A hunch and I acted on it, got lucky.”
Sala said, his voice just as smooth, “Thank MAX for me. You think it was Nesser who saw Sherlock with Sean at the book festival Saturday, took his chance? And missed?”
“Yes, thankfully, just as he missed taking Sean Wednesday night. We can’t be sure, but it seems likely Victor followed us from Washington to Willicott.”
Words clogged in Sala’s throat, then, “Yeah,” he said, and swallowed. “Searching the lake for bones with Ty. She won’t let me alone.”
“Sala, call Mr. Maitland and tell him what’s going on. Tell him about the gold Star of David belt buckle. He won’t mind it’s Sunday.”
“Yes, all right.”
“Wish me luck with my basketball game. My kid’s got some moves, dribbling with both hands, trying to copy Steph Curry.”
Sala punched off and called Mr. Maitland’s cell. He answered on the first ring. “Yeah? This better be good. My wife handed me a dish of her potato salad. It’s got kosher dills and olives. And I saw a cherry pie cooling in the kitchen.”
Sala identified himself and said, “I really like cherry pie.”
“So does the rest of the known world. Glad you called, Sala. Tell me what’s going on there with the bone hunt in Lake Massey.”
After Sala told him about the Star of David belt buckle, Maitland whistled. “A stroke of luck. Makes sense it belonged to one of the victims. We should get this out to the media. You got anything else to tell me?”
“I understand why I can’t be out in the field looking for Victor Nesser, but I’d like to stay in Willicott, sir, maybe work with Flynn and the chief of police, try to find whoever murdered all these people and threw them in Lake Massey.”
Maitland was silent. Sala wondered if he’d taken a bite of that potato salad with the kosher dills and olives. Or the cherry pie?