“Bye, Mrs. Lincoln,” Kyle said, following Matty from the room. She heard the murmur of Jake’s voice in the front hallway, talking to the boys. Then the door slammed and Jake came into the kitchen, heading for the coffeepot.
Annie told him her plans as he fixed himself a drink and sat at the table. “I realize we’re treading over ground Hank already covered,” she said. “But we have no other leads. Besides, I like to hear things firsthand.”
“I thought I might see if I can squeeze a few minutes from Adam Thorburn’s shrink,” Jake said. “He might know something he doesn’t know he knows.” He paused. “Besides, we have to earn our money.”
Annie straightened her back. “I’ll be in the office if you need me. I have a few things to do.” She went to the office, sat down and pulled in her chair, booting up her iMac. She checked for phone messages while she waited. There were none.
The splash screen appeared on her monitor—a shot of Jake and Matty wrestling on the living room floor. She checked the email account for Lincoln Investigations, filtered through the spam and was left with one email. It had a curious subject line that caught her attention, “Help for your investigation.”
She opened the email and leaned in. “Lincoln Investigations,” it began. “If you want to know more about Adam Thorburn, come to Millfield Elementary School as soon as possible on Wednesday morning. Meet me inside the service door at the east side of the building. I’ll be waiting.”
There was no signature, but it was sent from Millfield Elementary School’s main email address. Perhaps it was from one of the staff, or maybe even from a student. She checked the headers. Everything seemed normal as far as she could tell. She noted the email had been sent at 9:54 the previous evening. It wasn’t likely from a student at that time of the evening.
It was a peculiar message and she wasn’t sure how to handle it. Why had the sender contacted them via email rather than call? Sure, it was more anonymous, but once they met, all anonymity would be gone.
She looked at her watch. If they decided to go, they should go immediately.
She printed the email, carried it to the kitchen, sat down, and slid it in front of Jake. “What do you make of that?” she asked.
Jake set his coffee down, picked up the paper, and leaned back. He read the message, a frown growing on his face. When he was finished he looked up. “Could be something,” he said, laying the email on the table and looking at Annie. “We should check it out.”
“Millfield Elementary School is close to the Thorburns’,” Annie said. “It’s the school Adam would have attended before high school.”
Jake gulped the last of his coffee, stood, and put the cup in the sink. “Grab your bag of tricks,” he said. “We might as well go right away.”
Annie got her handbag, folded the email in two, and tucked it inside. She followed Jake out the front door and they got in the Firebird. Jake started the car and pulled onto the street, then turned to Annie, nodding toward her bag. “You have your recorder in there?”
“Always.”
Fifteen minutes later, he turned the vehicle onto Mill Street and drove past the Thorburn house.
“It looks like the police have stopped watching for Adam to return,” Annie said. “Their car’s gone.”
“I guess they can’t sit there forever,” Jake said. “Besides, it’s doubtful Adam would come home. At least, not with a strange car sitting out front.”
“They have a citywide lookout for him, anyway,” Annie said, then pointed through the windshield. “The school’s on the next street. Turn there.”
Jake took a left turn, drove half a block, and turned into the school property. He drove through the parking lot toward the east side of the building and pulled into a slot beside a Volkswagen Beetle parked in front of the service entrance.
They got out, went around the Beetle, and approached the door. Jake pulled it open and peered into the dark corridor. Annie stepped around him and fumbled on the wall for a light switch. She found it and flicked it on, and the hallway flooded with light.
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. Someone lay on the floor, halfway down the corridor, and he wasn’t moving.
She moved forward cautiously a few steps, her breath quickening. Something crunched under her feet. There was glass on the floor—glass from a fluorescent bulb—and a ladder stood to one side. She looked up. It appeared someone had been changing a light bulb, and it had slipped and shattered on the floor.
Jake followed Annie as she skirted around the broken glass, stepped over a push broom lying on the floor, and stopped a few feet away from the unmoving body.
It was a man, an older man, and he lay on his back. There was a dark red patch of blood on his shirt and more on the floor. There was no doubt about it, the man was dead.
The eight-inch screwdriver protruding from his chest was the dead giveaway.
She turned back to Jake. He stood with his arms crossed, a deep frown on his face, staring down at the body.
“What did this guy do to deserve this?” he asked, giving a deep sigh.
“Nobody deserves this,” Annie said.
“We’d better not go any closer. We don’t want to disturb the evidence.”
Annie turned her eyes back to the body. Was this the man who’d sent her an email claiming knowledge of Adam Thorburn? Or was the email sent by Adam, boasting to them about his latest victim?
She took a short step forward, crouched down, and peered. Something stuck out of the victim’s mouth. It seemed to be a stem of a flower. Was it a rose? Was Adam taunting the police? Was he taunting them?
“I think there’s a rose in his mouth,” she said to Jake.
Jake’s face was grim as he leaned forward and squinted. “It sure looks like it.” He clenched his lips, his nostrils flared, and he shook his head slowly.
Annie looked at her watch. It was already past nine o’clock. School had begun, and yet no one had discovered the body. Perhaps none of the staff came to this area. But who was the man?
The email had been sent the previous evening, and by the look of the victim’s clothes, this could be the janitor. He would’ve been here to do the cleaning, and the Beetle outside the door might be his car.
“I’ll call the police,” Jake said, pulling out his cell phone and moving toward the exit.
Annie followed him outside as Jake dialed 9-1-1.
Chapter 19
Wednesday, 9:18 a.m.
HANK PULLED into the parking lot at Millfield Elementary School, drove to the east side of the building, and stopped behind a police cruiser. The forensic van was parked nearby, investigators busy documenting the scene. An area outside the service entrance was taped off by the first responders, allowing CSI to do their work undisturbed.
Jake’s Firebird was parked inside the secured area next to a Volkswagen Beetle. The Lincolns stood next to the vehicle, watching the proceedings. Uniformed officers held back the few onlookers who had discovered the situation and approached curiously.
Detective King pulled up in his vehicle, parked beside Hank, and strolled over. Hank got out of his car and greeted King with a nod, and together they walked past a waiting ambulance, ducking under the tape. Jake glanced over as they approached the Firebird.
“How on earth did you discover this one?” Hank asked, looking back and forth between Jake and Annie, a perplexed look on his face.
Annie rummaged in her bag and handed a folded paper to Hank. “I got this in my email box this morning,” she said.
Hank read the message, gave it to King, then turned to Annie. “What did you guys make of the email?”
“I’m not sure if the victim sent it or the killer,” Annie said. “If it was the victim, the killer must’ve known about the rendezvous. But if it was the killer, I assume he was taunting us.”