Chasing Evil (Circle of Evil) (13 page)

“If she needed help for an emergency of some sort who would she contact?” His questions were coming rapid-fire, barely waiting for her response.

The woman’s expression had switched from wariness to concern. “Me first, I think. We’re friends. Carrie Solberg lives down the street. We all hang out sometimes, but Carrie’s on a cruise. So definitely me. What kind of emergency? What are you doing at her place anyway?”

He ignored the question, thinking rapidly. If there was one thing that he’d learned about Sophie in their time together, it was that she thrived on orderliness and precision. Cam had often teased her about her adherence to routine. He couldn’t imagine her going to bed without unpacking her suitcase and putting it away.

And before turning in every night, her cell was placed on the nightstand. Without exception. In case one of her clients needed to contact her during the night, she’d once explained. It had made perfect sense to him. He always kept his cell close, too.

But her phone hadn’t made it out of her purse. Her clothes hadn’t been put away. Which meant that whatever had happened to Sophie had likely occurred last night sometime between twelve and twelve-thirty.

“Okay, thanks.”

He turned to leave, already planning his next action.

“Don’t even think about leaving without telling me what’s happened to Sophia!” Hammel stepped barefoot onto the porch her eyes fierce. “What’s going on? How’d you get in her condo, anyway?”

“Hey, it’s the dude with the ’tude. Cool. Can I see your badge?”

The boy who now stood in the open doorway was a miniature of his mother in every way except for gender. About seven or eight, Cam calculated, although he didn’t know much about kids. His red hair was a shade brighter than his mom’s and hadn’t been combed that morning. His left foot was encased in plaster from the base of his bare toes to his knee. He was supporting himself on crutches.

Livvie Hammel flushed. “Not now, Carter. Go to the kitchen and start thinking about what you want for breakfast.”

But the boy didn’t move. He was studying Cam’s pants interestedly. “His lap doesn’t look greasy. I still don’t get it.”

Involuntarily, Cam glanced down at his trousers. “What?”

“Carter.” An edge of embarrassment firmed Livvie’s tone. “Kitchen. Now.”

The kid didn’t move. His brow wrinkled, he said, “Dr. C said that, though, remember? You said, hey, what’s going on with you and hunkalicious, and she said it was over because he was a greasy laps judgment. And then you said but he was tasty, right? And Dr. C said he was absolutely delicious. But you never did explain what greasy laps judgment was and I just looked and his lap isn’t greasy.”

Whatever else the kid had been about to say was muffled by the hand the woman clapped over his mouth. Twin flags of color rode high in her cheeks. “I swear the child can’t hear me tell him to stop using his crutch as a bat in the house, but he can hear a whispered conversation thirty yards away.”

Despite the urgency surrounding the matter, Cam couldn’t help asking, “Greasy laps judgment?”

She grimaced as she loosened the hand she had over the boy’s lips. “Egregious lapse in judgment. A trait shared by Carter on occasions too numerous to mention.”

“Ah.” The phrase sounded so like Sophie that it brought a quick hard smile to his lips. One that faded in the next instant. Urgency was pulsing through him, getting more and more difficult to contain. “Did you see anyone around her place yesterday, before she got home?”

“No, sorry. Carter broke a growth plate in his foot a few days ago and it’s all I can do to keep him entertained. I’ve been home trying to keep him off it this week. That’s kept me too exhausted to focus on much else.”

The kid was giving Cam a look that was probably supposed to be angelic. It failed miserably. He looked like a pint sized evil genius. “What was the crisis you called Sophie about last night?”

She jerked her thumb at Carter. “Slugger here woke up wanting a drink of water. While I was fetching it he decided to use his crutch to play Sammy Sosa. Sent a tennis ball through his bedroom window.”

Cam looked at the boy. “Sosa, huh?”

“He’s the all-time home run hitter on the Cubs,” the kid informed him. “Soriano only hit thirty-two last year. He’s never going to come close to Sosa’s record.”

Sad, but true. “Good point.” Cam switched his attention back to Livvie. “How was Sophie going to help with a broken window?”

“Not help, exactly, but I just wanted the name of the outfit that repaired hers this week. I figured since they already knew the area, maybe I could drop her name and get them out here without being put on a waiting list.”

Everything inside him stilled. “She had a broken window this week?”

“Yes. Well, I don’t know exactly what was broken.” She glanced at the boy. “My son saw a van from a glass shop out front. When was that, Carter?”

“Day before yesterday,” he replied without hesitation. “I had to stay in the living room while you were hiding clues for the scavenger hunt. It was boring, so I was looking out to see if maybe Ryder or Zach were outside on their bikes.”

“What kind of van?”

“Dark blue. It had a sign on it that said Dr. Pane. I thought that was funny and told mom the doctor was visiting the doctor.” Carter looked at Cam for his appreciation of the humor.

Ice slicking down his spine, Cam had heard enough. “Stay available. Someone will be back to talk to you.” This time when he walked away Hammel didn’t try to stop him. Heading back to Sophie’s, he pulled his cell from his pocket, his fingers oddly uncoordinated as he hit speed dial for a familiar number. He could hear the kid’s voice behind him.

“Hey mom, how come he gets to wear his socks outside?”

He stopped at his vehicle and opened the trunk with his free hand. Reached in and started digging around in his crime scene bag to make sure he had shoe covers as well as gloves. When Jenna finally answered he didn’t bother with a greeting. Politeness was beyond him at this point. “Get crime team to Sophie’s condo. Here’s the address.” He recited it without having to think. “I don’t know what happened. She’s not here.” In short succinct sentences he explained what he’d found without going into his reason for being there.

“Tell them to hurry.” The words settled in a hard ball in his throat. It took effort to force them out. “I think someone got to her.”

“Be sure to have them run my latents for comparison prints along with Sophie’s.” Cam was crouched next to Aubrey Hartley, one of the criminalists. She was in front of the kitchen door, rolling the electrostatic dust print lifter mat across the tile floor in front of the door. Her blond hair was pulled back in a stubby ponytail. The white TyVek coveralls she wore couldn’t quite hide the girth of her pregnancy.

She arched a brow but her movements never slowed. “You mean you were as careless with your prints as you were with your shoe impressions?”

“I didn’t expect to find a crime scene here.”

Something in his bleak tone must have alerted her, because she paused to look at him. “I’m just giving you a hard time. Don’t worry about it. I’ve already taken an impression of your shoe for elimination purposes, too. Where’d you touch when you were looking around?”

“Today? The security panel outside and inside the garage.” Her brows lifted higher at the admission. “The knob from the garage door into the house.” He stopped then, tried to think. “The doorjamb to the left of the master bedroom door. But I’ve been here before when Sophie was home.”

Aubrey’s expression went impassive at she interpreted his words. He’d been a guest here. Moved freely around the space. They’d find his prints on cupboards. Doors. In the bathroom. A shudder wanted to work through him at the thought of the bathroom. He and Sophie had once made love in that shower. The very one she’d likely been abducted from.

“Don’t worry about it, Cam. We’re going to pull out all the stops on this one.”

He caught sight of Maria entering through the front door, shoe covers and gloves donned. Nodding to Aubrey, he rose and crossed the room to meet her. She was scanning the activity in the condo, wearing a slight frown. Jenna was huddled in a corner of the dining area, a cell pressed to her ear. A second criminalist was dusting the doorknob of the entry from the garage. Yet a third was selecting light sources with which to examine the blood samples in the bathroom.

“I hope you’re not jumping the gun here.” Gonzalez held up a hand to halt any protest he might have made. “You explained the details when you called me, but like I said then, there are any number of explanations for Sophia’s absence. I would have preferred you look into all of them before ordering these resources.”

“Dollars and cents? Is that what we’re quibbling about here, Maria?”

Her look was dark. “Don’t take that tone, Prescott. Not when the details of what happened here are still in question. She could have hurt herself in a fall and called an ambulance.”

“Except there hasn’t been a call out on her phone for three days.”

She went on as if he hadn’t interrupted. “Or she might have walked over to the neighbors and gotten a ride to the ER.”

“Her friend lives right next door and never heard from her. We’ve called the area hospitals. She hasn’t been admitted. Jenna’s checking with the Urgent Care clinics, even though most don’t open until eight and I was here at seven. Tommy’s doing a canvass, but so far no one around here has reported anything amiss.”

Maria’s gaze narrowed. “You brought Franks in on this, too?”

“I was trying to keep it quiet,” Cam snapped. He paused, struggling to tuck temper away before going on. “I didn’t want to unnecessarily alarm anyone. Kitchen door was unsecured. All the doors operate on the same security system, but they can be opened from the inside without having to disarm it.”

“It’s like she walked out of her own accord.”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Kid next door saw a truck bearing a glass repair shop logo here a couple days ago. I’ve been running down the names of those businesses in the area.”

His cell rang. Cam took it from his pocket and checked the screen. It was Connerly, the forensic anthropologist working with the ME. “Take a look in the bedroom and the bathroom and let me know if you think the scene looks like Sophie left here on her own,” he said shortly. Turning away before Gonzalez could answer, he spoke into the phone. “Prescott.”

“Hey, Cam we got a breakthrough here.”

“—not a breakthrough, it’s a possible scenario.” He could hear Benally’s correction in the background.

“It’s more than a possibility. Probability factors in the ninety per cent range. That’s good enough for this California boy.”

“Maybe you and Lucy can argue the point on your own time.” Given the circumstances, Cam’s patience was nil. “What do you have?”

“The lab got back to us a couple days ago with the chemical breakdown in the soil surrounding each of the victims. I can tell you with a high degree of certainty which of them has been in the ground the longest. Even better, I can give you a good approximation about the order in which the vics were buried. We had it pretty close timing it by the dates of the original burials, but we were off some.”

He released a breath. Yesterday he would have been ecstatic at the news. Right now it bottomed out on a list of his priorities. “That is a breakthrough. Nice work.”

“Not the overwhelming enthusiasm I was hoping for, but a bump up from Negative Nancy here.”

He heard Benally’s response. “I told you to quit calling me that.”

Cam saw Maria exit the bedroom. He knew from personal experience the woman was a helluva poker player. He also knew her tells. The flare of her nostrils gave lie to her carefully blank expression.

His stomach clenched. In that instant he realized he would rather have had her continued disagreement about what had gone down here. Even a thread of hope would have been better than the utter blackness that descended upon him the moment he recognized that the SAC was finally convinced.

The voice in his ear reminded him that he was still on his cell. “Gavin, have either you or Lucy spoken to Dr. Channing recently?”

The man was silent for a moment. “Sophia? I haven’t talked to her since you guys came to the morgue a few days ago. Can’t speak for Lucy.” Cam heard the man pose the question to the ME, and her negative response.

Gonzalez jerked her head in a signal for him to join her. “Okay, I’ll catch up with her later. Listen, great work on the burial sequence. I’m in the middle of something here, but I’ll be in touch.” Disconnecting, he swiftly strode across the room toward the SAC. Silently she stepped aside, pointing him toward the bathroom.

Seth Dietz, the tech working in there, had plastic evidence markers scattered around the floor and a few sticky notes the floors, the sides of the shower and walls. Cam knew that meant the areas had already been sprayed with Luminol and they’d glowed, indicating a presence of hemoglobin.

“Behind the toilet.” Maria’s voice was quiet.

Craning his neck, Cam could see the yellow plastic evidence marker she must be referencing, but not what it indicated. “What is it?”

Seth looked up. “Just pointed that out to Special Agent Gonzalez. I can show it to you after I finish photographing the room. It’s a syringe. Found the plastic top under one of the rugs. Haven’t been through the medicine cabinets or the refrigerator yet. Channing might be diagnosed with a condition requiring injections.”

“She’s not.” Cam heard the bleakness in his own voice. Knew Gonzalez had, too. He no longer cared what interpretation she placed on it.

She placed a hand on his arm. “I’ll issue a BOLO.”

He nodded and she moved away. The be-on-the-lookout bulletin would alert law enforcement in the vicinity to watch for sightings of Sophie. But he knew in his gut it was no use.

She could have been taken by anyone. Cam couldn’t lose sight of that fact. In her capacity of forensic profiler she consulted on any number of cases simultaneously. He had no idea what else she was working on, or for whom. She could even have been targeted because of someone she’d interviewed in the past.