“Yes, but it was just today that he managed to talk to us. And actually, what he told us, Aidan had already surmised.”
“Ah, but knowing that you’re not wasting time developing a theory that’s taking you in the wrong direction can be important!”
When they reached the Haunted Mausoleum they found an officer on duty overseeing the crime scene. Van Camp identified himself, and Ron hurried up to the porch and passed the massive columns, stopping in front of the crime scene tape at the door.
“Don’t worry,” Van Camp said with a wry grin. “We have more tape.”
Rollo hung obediently at Mo’s side.
The killer wasn’t here anymore, Mo thought. There was nothing for Rollo to find, and Rollo knew that, just as she did.
* * *
At the task force meeting, Gina Mason gave a frustrated report on the forensics findings. The blood discovered on the tools at the beheading sites belonged to the victims. The tools had been wiped clean of fingerprints at both locations.
“One thing we did get last night—tire tracks. By the cemetery. We’ve narrowed down the tires to a new make and model by a specialty company—Horsepower. They’ve become popular in this region, though, because they’re excellent on snow. But the make and model suggest that the vehicle we’re looking for is a medium-size SUV or van. So keep your eyes open and make traffic stops on those vehicles when you can. Remember, serial killer Ted Bundy was caught because of a broken taillight.”
Dr. Mortenson told them that, fortunately, the beheading appeared to have once again been postmortem.
What Aidan had to say took longer.
“Years ago—years and years ago—the Hudson Valley was a hotbed of activity for the Revolutionary War. As we all know, one of our most talented American generals defected to the British, and he did so with the assistance of a brilliant and charming British officer, Major John Andre,” he began. He realized that the officers, detectives and technicians in the room were looking at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“Bear with me,” he told them. “I believe it’s all related. Major Andre fell in love with a local girl, a patriot. He was hanged, and she went on to bear a child. An old suitor and several of his friends murdered her, either because they thought she’d betrayed the Americans, or possibly her suitor urged it on because he was enraged by what he saw as a personal betrayal. But the lady had expected something like that might happen. She’d given the little girl over to the care of a cousin, whose name was Bakker. The family had a mausoleum at the old graveyard by Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. And the child is entombed there under what became her maiden name, Bakker—and the name she married into. Highsmith.”
No one protested or said anything. They just stared at him blankly.
“History repeats itself. Years later, in New York City, a man meets a woman. He’s a politician, she’s a Broadway dancer. When she becomes pregnant, she hides the fact from him because she doesn’t want to put a rising political star in a compromising position. The man was Richard Highsmith, and the woman was Wendy Appleby.
“We know that Wendy was not killed accidentally. She was targeted. But I believe she and Richard were targeted for some reason having to do with the distant past. Exactly what or why, I don’t know yet.
“Now, here’s what we do know, or what we feel we’re safe to assume. The killer is not just familiar with Sleepy Hollow history, he’s immersed in it. He—or an accomplice?—studied it, or at least specific aspects of it. He grew up going on field trips to every historic building and venue here. I say he because we suspect it’s a man. Dr. Mortenson says the strength needed to strangle a person to death is considerable, and the bruises on the victim’s necks suggest powerful hands.
“We could, of course, be looking for a very strong woman. I’m referring to the person who physically carried out the killings. But I believe that someone in Richard Highsmith’s life was the orchestrator.”
“What about Sondra Burke?” an officer asked. “What do you think is the reason for her death?”
“Three possibilities. She was killed to make it look like the killings were random. Or there’s a connection between her and Highsmith and Appleby. Or...I recently learned that she was checking into a story about Continental currency—worth a fortune in today’s collectibles market. Except that she hadn’t found it.
“Maybe someone thought she was close. Whatever the reason, and we’ll be examining every possibility, her killer carried out her murder, dragging her dead body around the Haunted Mausoleum as if she were nothing but a prop. We need to research any connection. But during your workday, be on the alert for those who know the area and seem fixated on the history, especially pertaining to the graveyards. Watch for the kind of vehicle Gina described. And we’ll continue to keep an eye on the Highsmith retinue.”
There were a few questions and he did his best to answer them. No, he didn’t believe any of the mausoleum employees were involved. Yes, they’d be canvassing local hardware stores to find out whether anyone on staff recalled selling the tools the killer had left behind. And, yes, an officer had been detailed to go through DMV records.
When the meeting broke up, Aidan called Jane. “I’d like to pull phone records. I don’t want a wiretap on anyone, just records from the past couple of months.”
“Who do you want?” she asked.
“Highsmith’s party.”
“I’ll get them. What am I looking for specifically?”
“Conversations among the five in Richard’s retinue—Taylor Branch, Jillian Durfey and the security trio.”
“Consider it done.”
He put a call through to Logan; the group was still at the mausoleum, so he left the station and drove out to join them.
He wondered idly if it made him a bad person—or just a bad agent—to want the day to end so he could be alone with Mo.
15
Van Camp and Logan Raintree watched as Ron described the various setups and themes at the Haunted Mausoleum. Following that, Grace, Phil and Mo went through the different actions, showing them where everyone was and when. Mo was standing by “her” mausoleum—where a woman, a friend had been beheaded—when it occurred to her to walk around the massive iron fence that surrounded the property.
“The police have already done that,” Van Camp told her.
“I figured as much,” she said. “But we worked out how the killer murdered Sondra and carried her past probably hundreds of people. Then he went into to the tomb to behead her. After that, he must have come out the same way...with both body parts. He had to wait until Joshua Kirbin was gone for the night to get the body into the coffin and then he had to leave. That means he just walked out of here—carrying a human head.”
Van Camp nodded, his mouth tight.
“So, he left with a head, which had to be wrapped in something, and he walked right out among everyone else?” Mo asked incredulously.
“So it appears.”
“Someone must’ve seen him leave. One of us, I mean.”
Van Camp looked like a weary bulldog when he said, “All right. We’ll make calls again to try and find someone who did see something. I guess it’s a different question now. Did you see any coworkers in costume leaving with a bundle?”
Rollo suddenly began to bark excitedly, and Mo saw that Aidan had arrived.
She realized that just seeing him brought color to her cheeks. She lowered her head as she gave Rollo permission to rush off and greet him. When he joined the group, Logan filled him in on their latest thoughts.
They walked out of the graveyard and went to the costume and makeup area. Mo felt Aidan behind her, his hand on her back, and knew that she was enraptured by him. She didn’t want to dwell on what had happened—on death or murder or Sleepy Hollow. She didn’t want to think about the future.
She j
ust wanted the night to come.
“The costume was ours,” Ron announced. “Unless someone else took home a grim reaper outfit last night. Whoever did this knew how to sneak in here when I was out among the guests, and he knew how to slip out with what he wanted. There’s a slouch hat missing, too. He wasn’t just familiar with this place, but with everyone’s schedule and habits and exactly how the show ran.”
Van Camp had been on the phone, but now he approached them. “It’s an SUV we’re looking for. A dark SUV. Harry Pickford—the kid who plays the mad doctor—was one of the last people out. He was waving to some friends in the parking lot and saw an actor in a grim reaper getup leave in a dark SUV.”
“And he didn’t mention that at the meeting?” Aidan asked, aggravated.
“He didn’t think about it, he says. And that’s because he was sure whoever waved back at him was one of his friends,” Van Camp said. “So we’ll get our people searching the county DMV records for registered dark SUVs. That’s a whole lot more specific than just any van or SUV. It could be our first real break.”
“Gina finished with one of their forensic searches,” Aidan said. “The tire track they got was for a new brand—Horsepower. The problem is, it’s become popular, and hundreds, maybe thousands, have been sold in this area. Harry Pickford didn’t happen to get a make or model, did he?”
“No,” Van Camp said. “No such luck. We’ll keep talking to other employees and try to get it narrowed down.”
“Let’s call it a night,” Logan suggested. “We’ll start fresh in the morning. Will Chan can find just about anything as far as a record goes. We’ll let his computer do the walking for a while.”
“What about us?” Grace asked. “Are we...safe?”
“I’ll follow you all home,” Logan said.
“Just follow us to Grace’s house.” Ron shivered. “We’ll stay together.”
“I’m going to the hotel. I’ll relieve Jimmy for a while,” Van Camp said. “He’s been sitting with Debbie Howell and the kid for a long time. I’ll take over. I know they’re on the same floor as you FBI guys, but it’s scary for the poor kid. His mother murdered—and the father he didn’t even know killed at the same time. There’s some serious therapy ahead for that kid.”
“The detective is watching Debbie Howell?” Phil said. “No hardship in that!”
“Hey, when did you last see Debbie Howell?” Grace asked him.
Phil flushed. “Some of us go to strip clubs. So what?”
“She was kind of a dorky kid—but she sure turned out pretty. And she has a great body,” Grace said.
“Debbie is okay.” Mo immediately defended her. “There’s nothing wrong with what she’s doing, either. She’s a wonderful dancer and she was making an honest living. Anyway,” she added, “Debbie quit that job.”
Grace laughed. “I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it. But Debbie Howell’s always been kind of on the outside. You know, the kind who tries too hard. She was never really popular and always hung around on the edges. Sort of pathetic.”
“Grace, don’t judge,” Mo snapped.
“And let’s not stand around talking about her,” Aidan said. “Sleep has been sadly lacking in our circles lately. Let’s lock this place up and get some rest.”
Mo was eager to leave. She was sure that Aidan was just as eager to get to the house as she was.
No one commented on the fact that she and Rollo got into his car. It had come to be expected by his Krewe that they’d be together, she thought.
And yet, as soon as they were on their way, he said, “There has to be a connection.”
“A connection?”
“Between Sondra and Richard and Wendy,” he said.
“You don’t think Sondra was killed just to get suspicion off Jillian Durfey?”
“No. I considered it but I’ve ruled it out. Because I don’t think Jillian was guilty. I tend to think it was Branch—and yet Richard was his whole career.” Aidan sighed tiredly. “Maybe I’m completely wrong. I don’t know. I’m just frustrated. By all accounts, Wendy Appleby was a very private person. But I believe that someone knew she was going to see Richard. Maybe that person even knew the codes to get into the center.” He looked at her. “Tell me if you can think of any possible connections between Sondra and Richard and Wendy. Any idea at all would be great.”
She nodded, despite a surge of disappointment. She’d felt so certain that he’d been obsessively anticipating the two of them being alone—as she had. Apparently not, since his mind was still churning with the case. Yet she understood how difficult it was to stop trying to solve the kinds of puzzles it created.
When they reached the house, she went straight to her office and started scanning the books.
And that was when he came up behind her. He turned her into his arms.
“I didn’t mean this second!” he whispered.
His lips touched hers as she slipped her hands beneath his coat and sweater, sliding them along his bare skin. She felt him tremble as they deepened the kiss. He continued to kiss her while struggling out of his coat, then helped her out of hers until both coats lay on the floor. His mouth lifted from hers as she moved her hands along his back.
“Gun,” he whispered.
“What?”
“Gun...I need it by me....” He pulled away for a minute and his eyes met hers filled with humor, a bit of awkwardness and a hunger that made her heart and all her senses soar. “Bedroom?”
“Yes. I have one,” she said, and laughed.
He caught her hand and headed for the stairs. When they entered her room, she turned into his arms again. He found her lips, then drew back.
“What?” she asked.
“Dog?”
“Oh, Rollo, I’m sorry. You’re in the hallway tonight!”
She ushered the dog out, then stepped back into the room and closed the door. It was dark, but she’d left the drapes open, and moonlight shone in on them. He removed his holster and the gun he carried and set them on the bedside table. Then he was back with her. She helped him take off his sweater; he took off hers. They kissed again. And kissed. And each insinuation of his tongue seemed to hint at things to come and increase the sweet arousal that was coursing through her veins.
She slid her fingers under his waistband and felt him tense at her touch. She found his belt and loosened the buckle, then let her hands move along his hips, pulling down his jeans and briefs, and reveling in the sensation of need and desire...and Aidan. His hands were on her naked flesh and she felt each touch like a burst of flame.
His arms swept around her and they fell on the bed together, where he kicked off his shoes and finished stripping off his jeans and briefs. He turned to her, this time encircling her in his arms as he brought her down with him. His finger moved around to her bra strap and he freed her breasts, lowering his mouth to each nipple, teasing and stroking with his mouth and tongue. She writhed, coming closer and closer to him.
But he was a smooth and practiced lover, sliding his hands along her arms to catch hold of her hands, raising them high above her head as he kissed her lips, then her collarbone, and her breasts again, then slipping to her midriff and below. The weight of his body was vibrant and hot, and she threaded her fingers through his hair. He moved ever lower, teasing, kissing, caressing. Her inner thighs received his kisses until she burned like wildfire at the place between them.
He made love to her in a way that left her gasping and straining and arching until a delicious climax broke over her. There were moments during which she felt she wasn’t even there anymore as she drifted to some higher place of ecstasy. Then he shifted on top of her, his eyes like the deep blue sea, gazing into hers. Their mouths met again and she skimmed her hands between them, down the length of him, and touched his arousal. Her slightest touch had him
adjusting his weight.
Then he pulled away, groaning as if he was being tortured.
“What?”
“I dreamed of this all day, and...my pockets. I have to look in my pockets.”
“Birth control?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“I’m prepared.”
“Oh,” he said. “There isn’t someone... Is there a reason we shouldn’t—”
She smiled. “No. I’ve just been ever hopeful that...that someone like you would come along in my life.”
He smiled, too, and stroked her cheek with the utmost tenderness.
Then he muttered, “Thank God!”
And he moved into her with a smooth thrust, overwhelming her with sensations and emotions she’d never known.
She hadn’t thought she could so quickly soar again, but she did. As he moved inside her, she was achingly aware of her own raw need and desire, and she was deliriously glad she’d never settled, that she had waited—for someone like him.
They’d both shut themselves off, she thought. She emotionally and physically, Aidan emotionally. She was sure he was far more experienced than she, and yet she sensed that this experience was still somehow different.
She forgot the world and was glad that only the moonlight drifted in, riding over his bare shoulders and the muscles that gleamed, sleek with sweat, as they moved together. The things he could do, the way he touched her, kissed her, arched against the feel of her fingers on his back...it all seemed to heighten the driving climax between them. And when it happened, she cried out, the feeling so wonderfully erotic and explosive she couldn’t contain the sound.
From the hallway, Rollo barked, afraid she was being hurt.
She and Aidan both froze with him looking down at her, smiling as he breathed hard and his heart thundered.