“Won’t be one hundred until I get the DNA tests back, but I’d say it’s him.”
Garrison opened the front door for her. “Has the foot been recovered?”
“No.”
“And the other guy?”
“No identification yet. Mr. Donovan did not see a dentist, so we have no records to compare. I’m going to do DNA on the marrow.”
Shit. “Thanks, Doc.”
“If the second man was the one that tortured and killed Dixon, it would stand to reason the foot would still be on site.”
“Maybe he took it somewhere and then returned.”
“And leave Dixon alive and risk discovery?”
Malcolm nodded. “It’s all feeling like a stage production.”
“Yeah.”
They turned and moved back toward their car. “Let’s talk to Dixon’s nurse again. Maybe she saw Donovan or someone else.”
They arrived at the medical offices. Dixon’s nurse was on her phone. “I’m not sure when we will be able to reschedule, Mr. Marcel. I will call you as soon as I speak to the doctor.” She listened. “No, no. He’s fine. He just had to go out of town on a family emergency.”
She hung up and looked at the detectives. “Detective Kier, back again?”
“I show up like a bad penny.”
She rose. Her body was stiff and nervous. “He tells me to tell the clients he’s out of town when he doesn’t show. Did you find him?”
“We did,” Malcolm said.
“Where is he?” she said. No missing the annoyance in her voice.
“He’s dead.”
She blinked several times as if her brain could not compute what she’d heard. “Dead? How?”
“We’re still piecing it together. Do you have that list of the people he saw in the last few weeks?”
“Yes.” She turned to the computer on her desk and hit print. The printer under her desk spit out pages.
Malcolm studied the print out. No name jumped out at him. “Did he see anyone else?”
“It’s funny you should mention that. When you came by yesterday it just didn’t register. But he had a patient stop by. He didn’t have an appointment, but Dixon said he didn’t need one.”
“Who was it?”
“He never gave his name.”
“What did he look like?”
“Tall. Dark hair. I didn’t get a good look at his face. He breezed past me while I was on the telephone.”
“Why was he here?”
“Dr. Dixon didn’t say, but later when I was in his office I saw his notes on the patient. I shouldn’t have looked, but I was curious.”
“Good for you.”
She folded her arms. “He was here to have burns removed.”
“Burns. What kind?”
“I don’t know. Dr. Dixon just noted he had a large patch of scarring.”
Malcolm pulled several DMV photos from his pocket. “Is it this guy?” He showed her the picture of Sierra Day’s husband.
“No.”
He then showed her pictures of Terry Burgess and Marty Gold.
“No.”
He flipped over a picture of Connor Donovan.
“No.”
The last picture in his stack had been an afterthought for Garrison. It was a picture of Micah Cross.
Her eyes widened. “That might be him.”
Malcolm’s heart kicked up a notch. “Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure. I just saw the side of his face.”
Eyewitness testimony could be the worst. Human memory could be faulty at best. “Thanks.”
When they got outside, Garrison’s face was a tight drawn mask. “I want to talk to Cross.”
“You and me both.”
He shook his head. “Louise Cross announced her ‘arrival’ with a fire. And now there’s another fire.”
“So why is Micah Cross trying to hide burns? I don’t remember him ever being in a fire.”
“His twin brother Josiah died in a fire.”
Garrison nodded. “According to eye witnesses Micah Cross was in the District the night of that fire.”
He grunted. “Eyewitnesses. His father could have paid for eyewitnesses.”
“Do you think Micah could have been with Josiah the night of the sorority house fire?”
“I don’t know. But the burns make me wonder.”
As Malcolm pulled into traffic, his phone buzzed. “Kier.” He listened as the dispatcher relayed the message. “Shit. There’s been a 911 call at Wellington and James.”
“What happened?”
“Charlotte Wellington has reported Angie missing.”
“No, it is not normal for her just to take off!” Charlotte’s loud angry voice drifted from the reception area as Malcolm and Garrison arrived.
Malcolm had been holding on tight to his temper and fears as they’d raced across town, but he nearly lost control when he heard the panic in the attorney’s voice. He moved past the uniformed officers and went directly to Charlotte.
She stood in front of the receptionist desk, her hands clenched and her face pale and drawn. She looked as if she’d aged ten years. “She would not leave her briefcase or just take off.”
“Ms. Wellington,” Malcolm said.
She pushed past the officer. “Thank God. I told them to call you.”
“What happened?”
“Angie is missing. And I found this on the floor.” She held up the little red book. “I told them that this guy must have taken her.”
Malcolm shoved aside his own fears and glanced at the book. He flipped through the pages. “Martin Rayburn.”
Garrison tensed. “Rayburn?As in Blue, Eva’s father?”
Charlotte nodded. “The journal is written by a guy named Blue who was dying of cancer. I guess this other guy is his son. There’s a boy named Martin mentioned in the journal.”
“Eva has a half brother?” Garrison said.
“What would he want with Angie?” Malcolm said. “Technically, they aren’t related at all.”
Charlotte pointed to the book. “If you read the journal, you’ll understand why Blue was positioned at the museum.”
“Positioned?”
“Darius ran guns through the museum. He used the exhibit crates to stash weapons that he sold all over the world. It was Blue’s job to pack the guns and see that they got shipped. He was also there to make sure Frank didn’t go to the feds. Blue makes it clear that he hated Frank because Frank made Blue feel like a cheap thug.”
“That’s why Blue stole Frank’s wife?”
“It is. Blue could bully Frank, but he wanted to be accepted on Frank’s level. Marian Carlson’s attention gave him validation.”
Malcolm sucked in a breath. “So is he here to finish off the Carlson family?”
The uniformed officer cleared his throat. “We ran Martin Rayburn’s name. He’s got a warrant out for his arrest in Colorado.”
“For what?” Malcolm said.
“Assault.”
Chapter 28
Thursday, October 13, 2 P.M.
The stench pulled Angie out of a deep sleep. When she reached consciousness she recoiled, wishing she’d not awoken. Her limbs were stiff, and her head pounded with a force that took her breath away. She raised trembling fingers to her head and tried to open her eyes. The faint light in the room made the pounding worse, forcing her to lower her lids.
Where was she?
Headache or no, she had to find out where she was and get out of here. Pressing her hand to her head, she rolled on her side. Her fingers brushed concrete, and she realized she was on a cold floor. The slight movement made her sick to her stomach, and she curled her bare feet up.
As the putrid smells swirled around her, fear bit at her and stirred terrifying scenarios in her head. God, what was he going to do to her? She thought about Lulu and Sierra. Had they found themselves in this same place, scared and alone?
She pushed up on her arm, bracing as her head spun, and her
stomach churned. She opened her eyes again and watched as the room spun. It would be easy to just drop back and let the maelstrom wash over her. But there was no telling how long it would take for her mind to clear and she’d bet anything she didn’t have much time.
Pressing her fingers into her stomach, she pushed up onto her knees. The room was very basic, a utilitarian workroom that sported a large tub and a workbench with all kinds of tools. There was a plastic case that appeared to be filled with bugs.
The sight of the creeping insects crawling over a mound of flesh set her off. She turned to the side and vomited what little she had in her stomach. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. God, where was she?
Tears stung her eyes as she stared at cinder-block walls. This windowless room could be anywhere, and no one was likely to find her.