Lena was so certain that Tommy Braham had killed Allison Spooner—just as certain as Sara was that Tommy had not. Will felt caught in the middle, and was mindful that it would be wrong to let either woman influence his thinking. He supposed for Lena the question of Tommy’s innocence carried with it a lot more guilt than she wanted to shoulder. To believe otherwise would mean that the kid had killed himself for nothing. That she had given him the means—and the motivation—to take his life. For Sara’s part, admitting Tommy was a murderer would mean admitting that Lena wasn’t as ruthless as she wanted to believe.
Will didn’t feel the rain let up so much as hear it. The constant tapping of water against leaves died down to a gentle whisper. He heard a bird, a bunch of crickets. Up ahead, a large tree blocked the path. Thick roots jutted into the air, earth dripping from the tendrils. Lena lifted herself up and over. Will followed her, looking around, trying to get his bearings again. They were near the fire road. At least he thought they were.
“There,” she said, pointing to a pile of stacked logs. “That’s the end of the road.” She took off her hood. Will followed suit. Two strips of earth about the width of the front end of a car lined the road for about ten feet, then gave way to thick forest. He understood why Lena was convinced the road was untraveled. You’d need a bulldozer to get through.
She told him, “The road on the other side is the one most people use, but it’s about a hundred yards west of the cove. I told you, we had to clear out a path to get the emergency vehicles back here.”
Will guessed they hadn’t been looking for tire tracks on the way to a suicide. They had probably destroyed any evidence of another car out by the cove. He asked, “If Allison didn’t have a car, how did she get here?”
Lena stared at him. “Tommy brought her here.”
“But you just said you checked for cars.”
“He had a scooter. He could’ve used that.”
Will agreed, but he couldn’t see Tommy balancing a dead body on the handlebars while he maneuvered his way through the forest. “Where was she before Tommy killed her?”
“Home, waiting to be killed.” She stamped her feet to fight the cold. “All right. The school library closed at noon on Sunday. She could’ve been there.”
“What about work?”
“The diner’s closed on Sunday.”
“Would Allison go this way to get home?”
Lena shook her head. “She would go through the woods across from the station. She’d be home in ten minutes.”
At least she was being honest about that. Lionel Harris had told Will the same thing. He asked, “So, why was Allison here?”
Lena dug her hands into her pockets as the breeze picked up.
“Detective?”
“She was here because Tommy brought her here.” She started walking again, trudging through the mud. Her shoes made a sucking sound with every step.
Will’s stride was twice Lena’s. He caught up with her easily. “Let’s profile our killer.”
She snorted a laugh. “You believe in that shit?”
“Not really, but we’ve got some time on our hands.”
“This is stupid.” She slipped again, but caught herself. “Are you really going to make me walk all the way to the cove?”
If Will could make her do anything, it would be for her to tell the truth. That didn’t seem to be an option, so he said, “Let’s do the profile.”
“Sure,” she muttered, pushing forward. “He’s a retarded kid between the ages of nineteen and nineteen and a half who drives a green Chevy Malibu and lives with his father.”
“Let’s take Tommy out of this for just a minute.”
She gave him a wary look.
Will asked, “What took place?”
Lena picked her way around another fallen tree.
“What took place?” he repeated.
She let her reluctance hang on every word. “You mean the murder?”
“Right. What happened?”
“Allison Spooner was stabbed in the neck Sunday night or early Monday morning.”
“Was it messy?”
She shrugged, but then said, “Probably. There’s all kinds of stuff in the neck. Arteries and veins. There would’ve been a lot of blood, which explains why Tommy had a bucket and sponge at Allison’s apartment. He was trying to clean up the mess.”
“Why did it happen?”
She laughed, incredulous. “This is profiling?”
Will’s version, at least. He didn’t share Lena’s certainty. She was so sure she was right about Tommy Braham that she hadn’t considered the possibility that a savage killer might be sharpening his knife for the next victim. “Why did the killer decide to kill? Anger? Opportunity? Money?”
“He killed her because she wouldn’t have sex with him. Did you actually read his confession?”
“I thought we were going to take Tommy out of this.” She shook her head, and Will tried again, “Just humor me, Detective. Let’s say there’s some mystery killer out there who wanted Allison dead. Other than Tommy Braham.”
“That’s quite a fantasy considering he admitted to doing it.”
He took her elbow to help her over a large puddle. “Did the murderer bring the weapon to the scene?”
Lena seemed to consider the question. “Maybe. He also had the cinder blocks, the chain, and lock.”
Will assumed the blocks and chain had been planted at the scene ahead of time, but now didn’t seem like a good time to bring up the theory. “So, this was premeditated.”
“Or, these were things lying around his house.” She added, “On Taylor Drive.”
Will didn’t rise to the bait. If Allison was killed at the lake rather than the garage, then Lena’s whole theory about Tommy’s guilt started to break down. He asked, “Was the killer angry?”
“The wound in her neck is pretty violent.”
“But not furious. That’s controlled. Deliberate.”
“He probably freaked out when he got a mouthful of blood back in his face.” She jumped over a puddle. “What else?”
“Let’s look at what we know: Our killer is organized. Not opportunistic. Has good knowledge of the area. He knows Allison. He drives a car.”
She nodded. “I’d buy that.”
“Go over the sequence of events.”
Lena stopped. They were about thirty feet away from the cove. “All right. Tommy, or your mystery guy, kills Allison, brings her here.” She squinted her eyes. “Probably he lays her down on the shore. He wraps the chains around her waist, ties her to the cinder blocks, then tosses her into the water.”
“Tosses her how?”
Lena stared at the cove. Will could almost hear her mind working. “He would have to carry her. She was found about fifteen feet out in the water, where the bottom drops off. The cinder blocks were heavy. Maybe he would’ve floated her out to the water, then bolted the chain and blocks around her. That makes more sense. There’s no way she could have been thrown in the water from the shore and ended up there.”
Will kept leading her along. “So, the killer walks her into the water, then chains her down. It was cold that night.”