Checking her watch-six-fifteen-she heaved a deep sigh and picked up the tiny diamond hoops from the dresser and inserted them into her pierced ears. Dean was picking her up at six-thirty, which gave her just enough time to collect her thoughts and calm her jittery nerves.
When her cell phone rang, she gasped. Cursing herself for being so nervous, she flipped open the phone and checked the caller ID.
“Hello, Dean,” she said playfully, trying to act as if she weren’t worried sick.
“Listen, honey. I need you to get down to headquarters immediately.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
“I just got a call from Pat Dewey. He and his mother are in Portland and they’re about two miles from headquarters. It seems when she finished cleaning out her bedroom closet this afternoon, intending to either pack or trash what was left, she came across some photographs that were in an old suitcase that her sons had brought down from the attic.”
“Photographs of what?”
“Of whom,” Dean corrected. “She isn’t sure who the person in the photos is, but she thinks it could be the girl Patrick had the affair with twenty years ago.”
“Holy shit!”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“Could Pat describe the girl to you? Could you-”
“He couldn’t give me a description,” Dean said. “It seems his mother won’t let him see the pictures.”
“What? Why?”
“He thinks it’s because the girl in the photos is probably naked. He told me that his mother said she will hand those photographs over only to you.”
“Because I’m a woman.”
“Yeah, that would be my guess.”
“I’ll get to headquarters as soon as possible, but in late Saturday afternoon traffic, it’ll take me a good thirty minutes.”
“Just drive carefully.”
“I’ll try.”
Lindsay would rather be anywhere than here. With the old gymnasium decorated so nicely, it reminded her far too much of the last time this building had hosted a special dance. The Valentine’s Day dance of 1986. Only back then, everything had been decked out in red, white, and pink, with paper hearts and fat little Cupids adorning every nook and cranny. If Wyatt weren’t at her side tonight, she would have run out the door as fast as she could and gotten as far away from St. Elizabeth’s as humanly possible.
“We didn’t have to come here tonight.” Wyatt placed his arm around her waist as he whispered in her ear.
“Yes, we did. I did.” She turned and smiled at him. A forced smile. “I’ve been running from the past far too long. I ran from you, from our son…and from Jake’s memory. I need to do this, so that I can lay his ghost to rest.”
“Whatever you need to do to vanquish Jake’s ghost and put the past behind us, I’ll help you. Just say the word and-”
“Go outside with me,” she told him. “I need to go back inside the labyrinth, to the spot where Jake was killed. Where I found him.”
“Are you sure?” Wyatt asked. “Why put yourself through that kind of torture?”
“I can’t explain it. It’s just something I need to do.”
“All right. Do you want to go now or wait until later?”
“Now, before I lose my nerve.”
As they headed for the exit, they ran into April Wright. “Where are you two going? Not leaving so soon, I hope.”
“No, we’re just going to get a breath of fresh air,” Lindsay lied. “We’ll be back before things really get started.”
“You’d better be careful out there,” April said. “You wouldn’t catch me wandering around outside in the dark. Not tonight. Not with somebody out there just waiting to take potshots at us.”
“It’s not dark yet. There’s plenty of daylight left,” Wyatt said. “Besides, Lindsay won’t be alone, not for a single minute.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.”
Wyatt cupped her elbow and led her out of the gym and onto the school grounds. “I think it’s this way, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she replied, “right over there.”
Hidden deep inside the maze of hedges, the huge oak tree towered high into the evening sky. Beneath the oak, the sculpture of the Madonna still resided in a place of honor. This was where she’d found Jake. The arrow that had pierced his heart had pinned him to the tree.
Suddenly flashes of memory popped into Lindsay’s mind, like an accelerated movie clip. She saw Jake’s sightless eyes staring at her. The blood on his shirt. The still-smoldering cigarette lying at his feet. She could hear her own screams as she rushed toward him, praying that he was still alive.
But he was dead.
Lindsay shivered uncontrollably.
Wyatt wrapped her in his strong, comforting arms. “Let it go. You’re here with me now and you’re safe. You’ve confronted the demons from the past. It’s over.”
She sobbed against his chest while he soothed her. He allowed her several minutes to recover, then grasped her hand and said, “It’s time to get back to the dance.”
Marilyn Dewey sat in her wheelchair, a small manila folder clasped in her weathered, arthritis-crippled hands. She looked up the moment the door to the captain’s office opened and Rachel walked in. Rachel nodded at Dean, who stood in the corner, then went straight to Marilyn.
Rachel pulled out a chair, dragged it directly across from Marilyn, and sat down facing the other woman. “I believe you have something you want to show me.”
Marilyn’s dark, soulful eyes lifted, and she stared directly at Rachel. “He took pictures of her.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Nude pictures.”
“You found them today?” Rachel nodded to the envelope in Marilyn’s lap.
“They were in Patrick’s old suitcase…one he hadn’t used in years.”
“May I see the photographs?” Rachel held out her hand, trying her best not to push, not to be overly eager. But God in heaven, these old pictures could reveal the identity of a murderer and thus prevent any future deaths.
Marilyn lifted the envelope, as careful with it as if it were made of spun glass, and handed it to Rachel. “He-he wrote things on the back of each photograph. Things about her.”
Rachel released a chest-tight breath as she clasped the envelope. “Would you prefer that Lieutenant McMichaels and I look at these-”
“No,” Marilyn cried. “Not him. Only you.”
“All right, only me. Do you want me to look at them in another room?”
“Yes, please.”
Pat Dewey placed both hands on his mother’s quivering shoulders.
“Stay here,” Rachel told Dean as she headed for the door.
He nodded.
Rachel closed the door behind her, went straight to the captain’s secretary’s desk, sat down, and opened the envelope. With her hands trembling and her heartbeat strumming in her ears, she turned the envelope upside down and shook out the contents. A stack of old Polaroid photos fell into her waiting hands.
Oh, God! Oh, God!
She turned the photos over and groaned when she immediately recognized the naked girl in the first picture. Sitting demurely on the edge of a bed, her index finger stuck seductively in her mouth, she stared at the camera. Wide-eyed, but far from innocent.
Rachel hurriedly looked through the two dozen snapshots of the teenager, each pose slightly different, obviously all the pictures were not taken at the same time. She read a few of the notes on the backs of the photos, then one in particular caught her eye.
Merciful Lord!
That one final missing piece in the puzzle fell into place.
Rachel stuffed the photos back in the envelope, got up, and rushed into the captain’s office.
“Put a call in to the patrol cars closest to St. Elizabeth’s and send them over to the school,” Rachel said. “The killer is there right now. Lindsay and Kristen are in immediate danger!”