Facade (13 page)

A
fter their discovery Russo and Malone got booties and gloves from the field kit in the Ford, but the damage was done.

As they waited for Sergeant Ruiz and his team to arrive, they inspected the rest of the barn to make sure they hadn't overlooked the source of the gore. They found a flowered bedspread crumpled in a dark corner and a section of frayed rope next to the wooden trough. The blood had turned brown but still gave off a sweet, coppery smell.

Russo set down a lantern near the bedspread and fumbled in his pocket.

“What are you doing? Don't mess up the crime scene,” Malone said.

“The bedspread matches the description the Sidran woman gave,” Russo said. “I thought we should have a photograph to show her for confirmation.”

“Okay, but do it now before the scene gets turned over to Ruiz. After that we'll be getting all our information second-hand,” Malone said.

Ten minutes later, several crime scene technicians, already suited up in plastic coveralls, filed into the barn. Ruiz followed with an exhausted look that signaled it was the end of his shift. He caught sight of the bloody trough and sucked air in through his teeth as he noted the smear mark running through the blood.

“That your palm, Malone?”

Malone's ears turned pink.

“Sorry. I tripped.”

“How'd you ever find this place?” Ruiz asked. “You must have been holding back when you briefed me back at the station.”

“The waitress at the Oak Tree Diner gave us a tip and it panned out.” Malone said. “Mind if we hang around?”

“Show your I.D.s to the uniform out by the tape, then stay out of the way.”

As they watched from the sidelines, Malone kept up a running dialogue in Connor's ear concerning his interpretation of the blood spatter—speculating whether the victim had been dragged or bludgeoned or shot.

Russo half listened and fought the urge to retch as he imagined what the girl might have gone through. After he'd put down his camera, the scene had become more real for him.

“Note the medium-sized droplets and the elliptical tail over there,” Malone said.

Russo was more interested in watching a forensic tech scrape some of the blood into a collection tube, then squeeze several droplets onto a test bar. After a few minutes the tech announced to Ruiz, “Two red lines. Human blood.”

“What's the girl's blood type?” Ruiz asked Malone.

“A positive.”

“We'll put a rush on the labwork and let you know,” Ruiz said.

After setting up an array of powerful lights, a photographer meticulously documented the trough from all angles, followed by evidence techs who sealed the remaining blood into polythene bags. Then they carefully wrapped the bedspread and rope in paper, which were then bagged and tagged. Other crime scene techs dusted for prints and inspected every surface for possible clues.

Through the open barn door, Russo could see the snout of a van pull up in the featureless, gray light. Its doors rolled open, then slammed. Russo could hear excited yelping and whining. He knew that the dogs were eager to scour the nearby woods for a body, perhaps not yet fully cold. Assuming it really was Lara's blood, and the presence of the bedspread gave that high odds, their missing person investigation might have just turned into a homicide case.

Malone followed Ruiz outside to watch the dogs do a quadrant search, but Russo's attention followed a crouching female tech shining her flashlight at an angle to the dirt floor near the trough. She took a black box and a flat grounding plate out of her field kit and lay mylar film over the area she'd been inspecting. Russo had heard about electrostatic dust print lifters but never seen one in action. The tech placed the box to overlap the mylar and the plate, then punched the box's “on” button. She passed a rubber roller over the mylar. Russo moved closer, mesmerized, as an image materialized.

He rushed outside to find Malone. Following the sounds of footsteps and breaking branches, he threaded his way through the densely packed evergreens before spotting Malone's tall, lanky sillouette.

“Malone,” Russo shouted, “you've gotta see. We got a footprint.”

A
s Iris was clearing her dinner plate, she heard a TV reporter's voice announcing a breaking development in the Lara Kurjak case. She hurried to her living room and stood in front of the screen, watching images of people in coveralls hauling mysterious plastic bags out of an old, tilting barn surrounded by sawhorse barriers and crime scene tape.
Manchester, New Hampshire Crime Scene
scrolled across the bottom banner.

A field reporter, lips pursed but eyes wild with suppressed excitement, led with a “shocking” discovery. “The Manchester police are saying that they have found evidence in this barn that appears to be linked to Lara Kurjak's alleged abduction from a friend's apartment in Cambridge.”

The screen shifted to a bland-looking anchorman sitting calmly in the studio. A disembodied voice said, “Chuck, do we know yet whether the police have found the girl?”

There was a time delay as Chuck clutched his earpiece. “No, Bob. I overheard some technicians talking about collecting blood samples, but there's been no sign of a body yet. The police have been searching the barn and these woods behind me for the girl.”

The camera obligingly panned the woods behind him.

“Are the dogs helping with the search, Chuck?”

The camera zoomed in on a police handler directing three panting German Shepherds into a van. Iris recognized Lieutenant Malone in the shadow of the van, staring stoically ahead.

“That's right, Bob. These hard-working K-9s have been combing the woods for the last two hours without any success. But Segeant Emilio Ruiz, of the Manchester Police, assures me that the search will continue.”

Bob wrapped up with, “This is the first major break in the Kurjak kidnapping. We will keep you updated on any developments in the case.”

Iris switched off the TV and sank into the sofa. Lara must be dead. That poor, poor girl. She must have been taken to this barn in New Hampshire, and then... Iris hugged a pillow as a tear rolled down her cheek. Sheba jumped up onto the sofa and nestled in with her.

Could Xander have possibly done this? After what she'd overheard him saying in his office, she had no trouble believing that he used people to get whatever he wanted. She'd felt so humiliated by how he'd spoken about her with Nils that she hadn't even told Ellie all of his hurtful words. But kidnapping, raping and murdering a twelve-year-old girl? Hadn't the police been watching him? Or had he done it on that first night? Still, she couldn't reconcile her memory of Xander sitting peacefully in his living room in his silk pajamas with the scene of this bloody barn.

Then again, Nils could have taken Lara. They could be in this together. Did pedophiles work in pairs?

But why did Xander say it was true that he had to rent Zipcars to get around? That implied that someone had planted the key to the neighbor's van in Xander's house. And if that was true, then Xander's claim of being set up might also be true.

He had so much at stake. If any credible trail led from Xander to this bloody New Hampshire barn, his life's work would be over. Even if he were able to somehow defend himself, even if a malicious setup could eventually be proved, at the end of the day, he would be forever linked to this scandal.

She was going to have to tell Detective Malone what she'd overheard. It was too hard for her to separate her newfound dislike for Xander DeWitt from any rational analysis of the facts. Besides, it was his job to solve Lara's disappearance. She imagined that she could leave out some parts of what Xander had said.

X
ander clutched his side as he gingerly squatted down to scoop up his copy of the Thursday
Boston Globe
from the front porch. His broken rib ached fiercely and his shoulder still sent out sharp jabs of pain at random moments. Thank God that Neanderthal, Kurjak, would be locked up at least for the remainder of Xander's time here in the States.

He poured his first coffee of the day from the stovetop espresso maker and carried it to the marble table by the window. When he saw the
Globe
headline
Lara Kidnapping Tied to Barn in New Hampshire
, he dropped abruptly into a chair. He fumbled in a front pocket for his cigarette pack and shook one out. It took him three tries to light it.

He read the article carefully. It was written under the byline of William Buchanan, who seemed to be making the Lara story his personal ticket to the front page. These reporters were like vampires.

The police had found blood and other physical evidence, but no body, in a barn in Manchester, New Hampshire. Wasn't that the city where he and Nils had toured the Frank Lloyd Wright house several weeks before? His chest constricted.

The previous day Xander had grilled Nils on every word his assistant had said to the police. Nils had had the nerve to be annoyed with Xander for going offscript while Nils had been naïve enough to volunteer information to the police about their visit to New Hampshire.

“I figured I had to give them something,” Nils had said. “What could be more innocent than our trip up to see that Wright house? It wasn't secret. You gave a presentation to the whole school the following week, featuring your many photos of the place.”

Then Nils had added “I didn't tell them about any of the important things. I didn't mention Thailand.”

The mention of Thailand struck Xander with a frisson of dread, but also of excitement. His stress level was so high. God knew he needed something to look forward to. Just then was when he had made the mistake of asking Nils if he had settled all the details for Xander's Christmas trip to Thailand. Nervously looking around the room, Nils had reminded Xander that he was under serious scrutiny by the police as well as the Pritzker prize committee. Any whiff of a scandal could prove disastrous. Xander could not go to Thailand in the foreseeable future.

“You're not the only one under suspicion. I've been covering up for you. If you go down, I go down,” he'd said before huffing out of Xander's Harvard office. Since then, Nils hadn't responded to any of Xander's e-mails or phone calls.

Terrified at the prospect of a figurative noose tightening around his neck, yet filled with despair at missing out on his customary Christmas trip to Maurice's place in Chiang Mai, Xander thought back to the lovely Sumalee from last Easter. Her long perfect legs, and the sweet way she attended to his many needs.

What would Nietzsche do?
he asked himself, as he always did at an important juncture.
He would probably call his solicitor.

I
ris should have gone to see Jasna the previous night, after she watched the TV news. Her poor student was probably beside herself with guilt after the New Hampshire barn report. Jasna had already been in a fragile state, and this might have put her over the edge. Iris hoped the girl hadn't done anything drastic.

As she walked along her usual route to the GSD, her cell phone rang. Fishing it out of the depths of her purse, she saw that it was Sterling and answered the call.

“It looks like your crazy scheme to shield the Sidran woman has panned out,” he said. “The D.A. has officially dropped the charges against her. Seems the case is finally going somewhere despite her obstruction. Listen, Iris, how convinced are you that this professor friend of yours isn't a pedophile, and maybe even capable of kidnapping and murder?”

Iris felt her annoyance level start to escalate. “He's not my friend. I have no idea what his morals are like. He claims he's being set up, which, if true, makes me worry that the police might be looking in the wrong place. My fear is that Lara will be found too late, dead, and that my student will be devastated by her role in it.”

“Take some advice from your attorney. You've already done your good deed by keeping this student from getting the book thrown at her. Now put some distance between yourself and this DeWitt fellow. I think he's going to be arrested soon. If you become his alibi, you're probably going to get caught up in the court case, and you could be seriously tainted if he goes down for this crime.”

“But I already told the police what I saw. I don't want to be involved in a court case that could drag on for months.”

“You're the one who's been cozying up to the police without consulting your attorney first... I've got to go¬— another call's coming in.”

Iris put away her phone and walked in through the heavy front doors of the GSD. Sterling's phone call had solidified her decision not to call Detective Malone after all. She would not tell him what she'd overheard the day before. None of it had been new information, beyond the fact that Xander had been using her friendship as a front. Maybe he was gay, who knew? But why would that produce any stigma in this day and age, and within their professional and academic circles?

She climbed the open metal steps to her studio level, trying to put aside her own concerns so she could concentrate on what must be going on for Jasna.

But, as she approached the narrow opening to Jasna's desk pod, she heard giggling. A man's head turned toward her and she recognized Rory, slouched on Jasna's second desk. His grin faded just as Jasna playfully shot back at him, “In your dreams, Mister Alsop.”

“Hi, Iris. Ahh... I'd better get back to work,” Rory said, slipping out as Iris moved into the disordered work area. It looked like Jasna was finally spending some serious time here.

Jasna's expression collapsed into sadness when she saw Iris. Her voice became low. “The police came by this morning and showed me a picture of the bedspread they found. I told them it was mine. It had blood on it. Lara must be dead and it's all my fault. I'll never forgive myself.”

Iris rested her hand lightly on Jasna's arm. “It's not your fault. The police will find whoever took her. You need to put this out of your mind. I know it's hard, but you need to try.”

Jasna stared down at her desk. “I've been up all night working on this model, while Lara's body might be...” She turned silently away.

“Let me have a look at your model then.” Iris crouched to put her eye level with the model.

Iris took a long deep breath and examined the model from all angles, studying the various facades as they related to the volumes of the building. “You've gotten a lot done. It really captures your idea of inward focus, and I think it's starting to express that theme on the exterior too. It's well executed. You did good work, especially considering that it included pulling an all-nighter.”

“Thank you,” Jasna said, dully.

After more design encouragement and pointed pleas to check in with Harvard Health, Iris left her, but she couldn't get out of her head the sound of Jasna's carefree giggling with Rory. What made this girl tick?