They reminded Nancy of a string of bloated sausages. She turned her head aside.
"Bring Waters down here, Grimsbo bellowed.
Nancy could see the tendons in his neck stretching. His eyes bulged.
"You don't lay one hand on him, Frank, Turner managed between gasps.
Nancy grabbed Grimsbo's massive forearm.
"Wayne's right. I'm handling this. Back off."
A uniform bustled Waters down the steps. When Waters saw the body, he turned white and fell to his knees. He was mouthing words, but no sound came out.
Nancy closed her eyes and gathered herself The body wasn't there. The smell wasn't in the air. She knelt next to Waters.
"why, Henry?" she asked softly.
Waters looked at her. His face crumpled and he bleated like a wounded animal.
"Why?" Nancy repeated.
"Oh, no. Oh, no," Waters cried, holding his head in his hands. The head snapped back and forth with each denial, his long hair trailing behind.
"Then who did this? She's here, Henry. In your basement."
Waters gaped at Nancy, his mouth wide open.
"I'm going to give you your rights. You've heard them before, haven't you?" Nancy asked, but it was clear Waters was in no condition to discuss constitutional rights. His head hung backward and he was making an inhuman baying noise.
"Take him to the station," she ordered the officer who was standing behind Waters. "If you, or anyone else, asks this man one question, you'll be scrubbing toilet bowls in public rest rooms. Is that understood? He hasn't been Mirandized. I want him in an interrogation room with a two-man guard inside and another man outside.
No one, including the chief, is to talk to him. I'll call from here to brief o'malley. And send Michaels in. Tell him to call for a full forensic team. Post a guard on the stairs. No one else comes down here unless Glen says it's okay. I don't want this crime scene fucked up."
Grimsbo and Turner had drawn closer to the body, making certain to stay outside the circle of blood that surrounded it. Grimsbo was taking short, deep breaths.
Turner willed himself to look at the woman's face. It was Patricia Cross, but barely. The killer's savage attack had not been limited to the victim's body.
The young uniformed officer was also riveted on the body. That is why he was slow to react when Waters leaped up. Nancy was half-turned and saw the action from the corner of her eye. By the time she turned back, the cop was sprawled on the floor and Waters was bolting up the stairs, screaming for his mother.
The officer who was watching the cellar door heard Waters's scream. He stepped in front of the entrance to the basement, gun drawn, as Waters barreled into him.
"Don't shoot!" Nancy screamed just as the gun exploded. The officer stumbled backward, crashing into the wall opposite the cellar door. The shot plowed through Waters's heart and he tumbled down the stairs, cracking his head on the cement floor. Waters never felt the impact. He was dead by then.
"It was on the late news. I can't believe you caught him," Nancy Gordon heard Peter Lake say. She was alone in the task force office, writing reports. Nancy swiveled her chair. Lake stood in the doorway of the office. He wore pressed jeans and a maroon and blue rugby shirt. His styled hair was neatly combed. He looked happy and excited. There was no indication that he was thinking of Sandra or Melody Lake. No sign of grief.
"How did you crack it?" Lake asked, sitting in the chair opposite Nancy.
"An anonymous tip, Peter. Nothing fancy."
"That's terrific."
"it looks like you were right." lake shrugged his shoulders, stifling a smile.
"Say," lake asked sheepishly, "you didn't tell anyone about my stakeout, did you?"
"That's our little secret."
"Thanks. I feel like a fool, going off on my own like that. you were right. if Waters caught on, he probably would have killed me."
"You must feel relieved, knowing Sandy's and Melody's killer has been caught," Nancy said, watching for a reaction.
Lake suddenly looked somber.
"It's as if an enormous weight was taken off my shoulders. Maybe now my life can go back to normal."
"You know, Peter," Nancy said casually, "there was a time when I tossed around the possibility that you might be the killer."
"why?" Peter asked, shocked.
"You were never a serious suspect, but there were a few inconsistencies in your story.
"Like what?"
"The time, for instance. You didn't call 911 until eight-fifteen, but a neighbor saw you driving toward your house around seven-twenty. I couldn't figure out why it took you so long to call the police."
"You've got to be kidding."
Nancy shrugged. "I was a suspect because of this time thing?"
"What were you doing for 'almost an hour?"
"Jesus, Nancy, I don't remember. I was in a daze. I mean, I might have blacked out for a bit."
"You never mentioned that."
Lake stared at Nancy, openmouthed.
"Am I still a suspect? Are you interrogating me?"
Nancy shook her head. "The case is closed, Peter.
The chief is going to hold a press conference in the morning. There were three black roses and another one of those notes on a shelf in the basement. And, of course, there was poor Patricia Cross."
"But you don't believe it? You honestly think I could have…?"
"Relax, Peter," Nancy answered, closing her eyes.
"I'm real tired and not thinking straight. It's been one very long day."
"I can't relax. I mean, I really like you and I thought you liked me.
It's a shock to find out you seriously thought I could do something… something like what was done to that woman."
Nancy opened her eyes. Lake looked distant, like he was visualizing Patricia Cross's eviscerated body. But he had not been to the crime scene or read an autopsy report. The media had not been told the condition of Patricia Cross's body.
"I said you were never a serious suspect and I meant it," Nancy lied with a forced smile. "If you were, I would have told Turner and Grimsbo about the stakeout, wouldn't I?"
"I guess."
"Well, I didn't and you can't be a suspect anymore, what with Waters dead, can you?"
Lake shook his head.
"Look," Nancy told him, "I'm really whacked out. I have one more report to write and I'm gone. Why don't you go home too, and start getting on with your life."
Lake stood. "That's good advice. I'm going to take it.
And I want to thank you for everything you've done for me. I don't know how I would have gotten through this without you."
Lake stuck out his hand. Nancy stared at it for a second. Was this the hand that ripped the life out of Patricia Cross and Sandra and Melody Lake or was she crazy?
Nancy shook Lake's hand. He held hers a moment longer than necessary, then released it after a brief squeeze.
"When things get back to normal for both of us, I'd like to take you to dinner," Lake said.
"Call me," Nancy answered, her stomach churning.
It took every ounce of control to keep the smile on her face.
Lake left the room and Nancy stopped smiling. Waters was too good to be true. She did not believe he was responsible for the carnage in his basement. Lake had to know about the alley and the back door. With Waters at work and the mother an invalid, it would have been simple to drive behind the house without being seen, put the body in the basement and butcher it there. Lake was the anonymous caller, she was certain of it. But she had no proof. And O'Malley would soon tell the world that Henry Waters was a serial killer and the case of the missing women was closed.
Part Three
Chapter Six