Sound of Darkness

The medical examiner was Dr. Jerome Bailey, early forties, competent, and serious. He arrived skeptical they had found a body from the current century, but he quickly changed his mind.

The remains were that of a young woman, midtwenties to early thirties. She had been dead a year to eighteen months. He would know more when he had her at autopsy, where he could determine all he could from the bone and soft tissue that remained.

Colleen, Mark, and Red stood stoically waiting as his assistants gingerly removed the corpse with tatters of synthetic clothing from the broken pine coffin and earth.

Ragnar arrived; headquarters was called. Forensic evidence would be gathered by the federal authorities since they were amassing the discoveries from the previous victims.

Finally, the crime scene team were left to discover what clues they could find. Mark, Colleen, Ragnar, and Red were together at their cars.

“There was no letter to the media on this victim,” Colleen commented.

“None that we know of,” Ragnar said.

“If anyone had received anything, I believe they would have let us know by now. The murders of our victims and the kidnappings of Dierdre and Sally were widely publicized. Along with the arrest of Jim Carver,” Mark said.

“But you don’t think Carver did this,” Ragnar said.

“Any sign of Brant Pickering?” Colleen asked.

Ragnar shook his head. “Sally said he was finishing some research. But he insisted on asking a friend to stay with her, an aunt of his, to make sure she’s okay and with someone. The woman’s name is Carol Hughes. I’ve checked her out. She doesn’t even have parking tickets. Mother of three, grandmother of five, and beloved by everyone who knows her, from what I can tell. I asked Sally to call Brant and she did, but it went straight to voice mail. She insists he’s legitimately working. They’re back together and making the decision now as to where they want to live. Oh, I had her leave a message that he needs to call one of us. So far, no, I haven’t heard back. She says, though, Brant has all our phone numbers and she’s convinced he will get back to us.”

“Was his research supposed to be in New York? And if so, why wouldn’t he go to his own home?” Colleen asked.

As she spoke, Ragnar’s phone rang. He cast Mark and Colleen a curious glance and answered the call. “Mr. Pickering,” he said. “Hey, my colleagues are with me. I’m putting you on speakerphone.”

Mark heard the man say, “Sure.”

Then Ragnar said, “Sorry to bother you, but we’ve just been concerned you haven’t been with Sally.”

“And you’re wondering if I’m off kidnapping another woman?” Pickering said over the speaker. “I’m up in the Bronx. I’m doing research on the Edgar Allan Poe cottage here and the life of Poe. Yes, I’m in the city, but it’s just been easier to stay here. I’m at a bed-and-breakfast. I can text you the name and number of the owner and you can check on me.”

“It’s just that, well, Sally just got out of the hospital and you left her,” Colleen said.

“Special Agent Law! Nice to hear your voice. And by the way, your sister is going to love this book when it’s finished!”

“I’m sure she will,” Colleen said. “But—”

“I’ve been trying to finish this and get it in to editorial, so my slate is clear—and all my time can go to Sally.” He hesitated. “Also, I think she needed time away from...from a physical relationship. Don’t worry! I love Sally. And this doesn’t change anything about that love, except I want her to be well physically and emotionally. My aunt and Sally have always had a great relationship. I wasn’t worried about anyone going after her. I know you guys are watching the house night and day. I guess I should have reported to you what was going on with me. Except I honestly didn’t think I was on a list of suspects. I never met Dierdre Ayers or anyone in her family and, well, you know Carver was holding Sally.”

“Right,” Mark said. “Thank you for calling in. It’s part of the territory. We just like to know where everyone is. But no, you had no responsibility to call in.”

“Thanks. I’ll be here about another twenty-four hours, and then I’ll be heading back to Sally. I’ll get the information to Special Agent Johansen, and I know he’ll share it with you.”

“Right,” Ragnar said. “Thank you.”

“By the way, I want to get Sally a dog. A great dog like Red!” Pickering said. “Where did you get him? Off a special law enforcement site?”

Mark smiled. “Off the street. Someone dumped him. Do some research or go to a shelter. You can find a great dog almost anywhere.”

They heard Pickering laugh softly over the phone. “A shelter it is! That’s the responsible thing to do. Anyway, I’m here, and I’m sorry I missed your calls. I’ve been interviewing docents and the like. But I will pay attention from here on out.”

They all thanked him again and Ragnar ended the call.

He immediately checked his messages.

“Bobbie’s B and B in the Bronx,” Ragnar said, dialing the number.

When his call was answered, Ragnar said, “Hi, I’m trying to confirm a guest is staying with you, the writer Brant Pickering?”

Ragnar listened as the person on the other end of the call went on at some length, then he thanked them and ended it.

“Brant Pickering is a registered guest. He checked in right after he left Sally’s.”

Mark had his phone out. Colleen looked at him, frowning.

Ragnar grimaced at Mark and quickly explained to Colleen, “He’s going to have people discreetly watch the bed-and-breakfast. The guy who owned the place was shocked I knew Pickering was there. The owner is a fan of Pickering’s work too. But Mark is making the right move. The owner explained to me—as a bit of an advertisement really—that all rooms had an outside access. Guests didn’t need to come through the parlor. He and his wife work the place, and they don’t like to get woken up at all hours.”