And, of course, all the while I was trying to avoid the two biggest problems you run into in an investigation this complex. Number one: getting overwhelmed by the details. With this many crimes, comparing the similarities and differences between so many variables can be overwhelming-which is where computers come in handy. And number two: not properly weighing the importance of each of the variables-which is where computers don’t come in handy.
And as much as I like to think instinct doesn’t play a role in what I do, for some reason, one detail from the fifth murder kept coming to mind, bothering me.
According to the files, Bethanie Dixon had just returned home after attending some kind of private college out west. The killer had left her for dead after stabbing her and strangling her. But somehow she lived long enough to scrawl two words on the linoleum with her blood: white knight.
I could understand why a killer who leaves pawn pieces might scribble a chess reference in blood, but why would the victim do it?
I tried to figure out what this might tell us about the connection between the killer and the victim, but I didn’t have any idea yet what it might mean.
The phrase, along with the pawn at the crime scene, had sent the whole task force off investigating chess clubs and gaming conventions, chess websites, chess chat rooms, you name it. Hundreds of hours of manpower had been spent chasing the chess connection. But I still wasn’t convinced the words and the pawns were linked.
White knight.
What did it have to do with the killer? The rest of the victims?
I sighed.
No idea.
On top of everything else I wanted to patch things up with Tessa but hadn’t been able to get in touch with her. I’d tried calling her numerous times all afternoon, but she wouldn’t answer her cell phone. I pushed the papers to the side. One more time, maybe.
But maybe not her cell; maybe my parents’ landline. Over the last ten years they’d done pretty well incorporating computers into their lives, but when it came to talking on the telephone, they were still stuck in the middle of the twentieth century.
I dialed. My dad picked up. “Bowers residence.”
“Dad, it’s Pat.”
“Hey, Pat. Is everything all right?” He could sense the tension in my voice by just listening to three words. Amazing.
“Yeah, listen, I’ve been trying to get in touch with Tessa.”
“She’s in her room. I think she’s planning to go out with some friends tonight. Did you try her cell phone?”
“Yeah, all day long. She’s not picking up.”
“Well, maybe-”
Just then my phone vibrated. I had another call coming in. I glanced at the number. It was Ralph. “Yeah. Listen, just give her a hug for me. All right?”
“All right,” he said, and then, “but I don’t think I’m the one she needs a hug from.”
I stared at the phone. Why did he have to go and say that? I punched a button, hung up on Ralph, and brought the phone back up to my ear. “All right. It worked. Can you go get her for me?”
“Of course.” There was a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
I waited until she was on the line.
“What?”
“Hey, Tessa, I’ve been thinking about you a lot today. I’m really sorry I missed your birthday. I really am.”
I paused; she didn’t respond.
I could just picture her with her jaw set in that teenage girl sort of way. “Couldn’t we at least pretend to get along once in a while?” I said.
“I thought you didn’t like it when people pretend?”
Anger on the prowl.
Keep it caged in.
“Listen, I was hoping maybe in the next couple weeks or so we could spend some extra time together.”
“Why? Aren’t there enough dead bodies out there for you to spend time with?”
I heard it growl. Easy, Pat. Easy.
“Your mom’s death was hard on me too,” I said at last. But only after I’d said the words did I realize Tessa had already hung up the phone.
And that did it. I launched the phone against the wall, and it shattered in a spray of splintered technology.
Just then Ralph burst through the door.
“We might have something!” he blurted. “Why didn’t you answer-what happened to your phone?” He was staring at the mess on the floor.
“I dropped it,” I said. “What’s up?” Last I’d heard, he and Lien-hua were following up on some leads concerning the type of rope the killer used to bind and strangle Mindy.
“About an hour ago a girl left a mall in Charlotte.” He looked down at his notes. “Jolene Brittany Parker. Works at some clothing store in the mall. Never made it to her car. A guy says he saw someone with her. He might be able to give us a description.”
I was tired, frustrated from my conversation with Tessa, not really interested in a wild goose chase in another part of the state, and annoyed that my phone wasn’t wall proof. “What makes you think it’s related?”
Ralph paused. “Nothing. Except she wears contacts.”
“And?”
“And they match the prescription of the ones we found on Mindy.”
“What!”
Lien-hua appeared at the door. “Mindy doesn’t wear contact lenses. When we found out about the possible abduction, I decided to check out the prescription. On a whim.”
“That was some whim.” I jumped up from my seat. “What are we waiting for? Where’s this eyewitness?”
“Local cops have him at the mall,” said Ralph. “They’ve sealed off the area. He’s still there. Should we bring him in?”
“No. Let’s get over there. I want to talk to him on-site.”
“It’s a two-hour drive,” said Lien-hua.
I shook my head. “Too long. How long by chopper?”
“Let’s find out,” said Ralph.
Lien-hua and I were already on our way up the stairs to the landing pad on top of the building.
17
We landed at a hospital near the mall, and the Charlotte police met us there with a cruiser. A few minutes later we were pulling into the parking lot to Hanes Mall. The road had been cordoned off, but the officers at the entrance stepped aside to let us through.
I could tell which car was hers. A team of crime scene technicians was already hard at work on it, looking for fibers, dusting for prints. Near them, surrounded by a cluster of state troopers, stood a guy who looked about eighteen years old, dressed in high tops, faded blue jeans, and a Detroit Pistons Starter jacket. He was staring off into space like he was either in shock or slightly stoned.
“That’s him?” groaned Lien-hua.
“I guess so,” said Ralph. “Want me to go at him?”
“Let me,” I said.
We walked over to him, and I extended my hand. “I’m Patrick,” I said, leaving off my last name. College students tend to become suspicious of those who give both names. It seems like a power play. I didn’t want to distance myself from him right off the bat. “Are you Andy?”
He nodded and shook my hand.
“Good.” I looked around and then back at him. “You saw something here in the parking lot earlier tonight. Is that right?”
He avoided eye contact. He didn’t trust me yet. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I’m not really sure. Should I be talking to a lawyer or something?” He was stumbling all over his words.
“You don’t need to talk to a lawyer unless you have something to hide,” Ralph interjected, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t have anything to hide, do you?”
“No.” He answered a little too fast, which meant that he did.
“Well, then, there’s nothing to be nervous about,” I said. “We just want to know what you saw. That’s all. Then you can go meet up with your friends to finish watching the Pistons school the Hornets in tonight’s preseason game.”
He stared at me suspiciously. “How did you know that?”
I pointed to his jacket. “Detroit plays Charlotte tonight. You keep trying not to look at the four guys in the crowd behind me but doing it anyway, and you’ve checked your watch three times since I got out of the car. Look, I just want to know what you saw, the best you can remember.”