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Jackson nodded. “Tomorrow morning. You and Colleen can go in.”
“Ragnar—”
“We’ll keep the three of you on this. There are still too many questions for us to let go,” Jackson said. “For now, go home. Start fresh in the morning with Sally and then Carver. Go—I’ll meet up with the forensic team.”
Mark looked at Colleen Law.
“Good night, sir,” she said, turning to walk past Jackson through the trail toward the car.
Dusk had become darkness. But while the ambulance was gone, Jackson’s car lights were on—as were those of the forensic team that was arriving.
They made it back to the car. Mark lifted a hand to acknowledge the members of the Krewe forensic team who were hurrying out of their vehicles and toward him.
“Just down the trail,” he said.
No one stopped to talk.
Red raced ahead of him, as if he had listened to every word Jackson had said and was ready for his steak bone and a good night’s sleep.
Colleen entered the passenger’s side of the car after opening the rear door for Red.
Mark slid into the driver’s seat.
Colleen didn’t speak. She looked ahead. But Red pushed his nose between the bucket seats and she turned to scratch his head.
“You are an amazing dog!” she told him.
Mark wasn’t sure if a dog could smile, but if one could, Red was smiling.
After a minute, she said softly, “She’s alive.”
“Maybe she’ll stay that way. Maybe she won’t suffer any brain damage,” he said.
Colleen glanced at him. “She’s alive,” she said. “And you and your partner rescued another woman today. You should be pleased.”
“I should be.”
“But you’re not.”
He inhaled and released a breath. “No. I am pleased. Relieved.”
“But you don’t think it’s over.”
He shrugged. “This started almost a month ago. Of course, we weren’t called in at first. But when there was a second victim—”
“You found her.”
“Red found her. We questioned dozens of people, checked every possible traffic cam. But the kidnapper-slash-killer seems to know he can be caught that way.” He shook his head. “Take Sally. The last video showed her car leaving the highway and heading toward her house. They couldn’t tell if she had still been driving it at that point. And all Sally could tell Jackson was someone had used the ploy they needed help. And—”
“The letters. The letters to the paper. No one received one of those letters on Dierdre, right?”
“No. That’s one of the reasons I’m afraid we’re dealing with more than one person. The pine box was the same, but the killer usually kept his victims. The timing is improbable, but it’s not impossible. Dierdre was taken and then almost immediately put in the box. And there was no letter—not that we know about, at any rate.”
“How could there be? The Postal Service is great, but no regular letter could have been written last night and arrived already.”
“‘She’s with me now. Embraced by love,’” Mark quoted.
“Right,” Colleen said. “I know serial killers tend to receive monikers, but this one seems cruel—to the family and to those left behind. We’re living in the age of social media. And once something starts...”
Mark knew even the media were trying to make sure the killer was referred to as “The Embracer.”
But they often slipped and referred to him as “The Lover.”
“This is four,” Mark said. “We have Carver, but...”
“If Carver isn’t The Embracer,” Colleen started, “and there is someone else out here, and if he sticks to his present schedule, he’ll kidnap another woman within a few days.”
“So, we’re staying on it,” Mark said.
“You and Ragnar work great together. I’m sorry you’re being saddled with a rookie agent,” she said, shaking her head.
“You have your special talent.”
“But then all Krewe agents have a special talent,” she said.
“True, but Jackson told me you have special hearing. With your mind?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Of course, my parents had my ears checked out; they sent me to therapy. There’s nothing different about my hearing.”
“But you can hear the living and the dead?”
“Yeah.”
“And you can tell the difference?”
She winced. “Most of the time. I mean, we both know that sometimes, the soul or the ‘ghost’ remains for one reason or another after death. Sometimes, maybe, there are echoes that remain? But yes, I usually know if we’re going to find someone living—or dead.”
“That is unique,” Mark acknowledged. “Of course, the problem here is whoever is doing this, there are acres upon acres of places to bury a body. Whoever is orchestrating this—”
“You think it’s orchestrated?” she asked curiously. “Carver could have done this. As we’ve established, the timing isn’t the same, but he could have done it. The pine box was the same, right? I didn’t see any mention of the boxes in the file. Were they the same?”
“Yes and no. We found wood in Carver’s basement, but nothing assembled—just a pile that might have been for anything. Pine is available at any lumberyard. Nails are available at any hardware store. I don’t know yet if the construction will prove to be different. Forensics will tell us more.”
“No fingerprints on anything. The kidnapper-slash-killer always wore gloves.”
“Right.”
They had reached the Beltway, and Mark turned off to drive toward their headquarters, where he assumed their new agent had her car.
But she told him, “Sorry. I didn’t drive in today. But I am just a few blocks from our offices. I mean, you could still drop me at work, and I can walk, but—”
“Just give me your address.”
