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Jane walked alone back down the driveway to the cabin. Stood outside for a moment in the yard, listening to the chirping of birds, the wind rustling the trees. Early this morning, she and Frost had interviewed Amy and Julianne about what happened here last night, and their statements played in her head as she again mounted the porch steps.
Amy:He came out of the woods—came straight toward me. I tried to close the door on him to keep him out, but he shoved his way inside. I knew he was going to kill me…
Julianne:I was down by the lake, looking at the water, and I heard her screaming. I heard my baby screaming and I just ran toward the cabin…
Jane stepped inside and stood in the kitchen, once again surveying the blood-splattered cabinets, the broken glass, the toppled chair. She turned to the countertop and stared at the butcher block knife holder. One of the slots was vacant. It was a wide slot, large enough to hold a chef’s knife.
Julianne:I ran into the kitchen. He was there with Amy and hehad her shoved up against the wall with his hands around her throat. I did it without thinking. I did what any mother would do. I grabbed a knife from the counter…
The evidence of what happened next was splashed across the cabinets, smeared on the floor, and Jane could see it unfolding as if it were happening right here, right now. Julianne plunges the knife into the attacker’s back. Wounded and howling, he turns to face her. Lunges at her. In desperation she blindly slashes at him and the blade slices across his neck. This time the wound is mortal, but not immediately. He has enough strength to try and wrestle the knife away from her, and in the struggle, she cuts her hand. But now his vision is fading…
Blindly, he staggers into the hallway where he reaches out to steady himself, leaving his smeared handprint on the wall. By now he has lost so much blood that everything is starting to go dark. He stumbles into a bedroom—a dead end. And here his legs can carry him no further.
Jane halted, looking down at the spot where James Creighton’s body at last came to rest. Here he had taken his final breaths as the bleeding slowed to a trickle, as his heart stuttered and stopped.
Julianne:When I called 911, he was still alive. I’m sure he was. He never said anything. He never told us why he attacked. By the time the police arrived, he was dead, so we’ll never know why he chose Amy. Why he wouldn’t leave her alone…
Amy.Jane looked around the bedroom, at the lace curtains, the row of stuffed animals on the shelf. This must be Amy’s bedroom. After their terrifying night, she and her mother had been escorted back home to Boston and they’d left everything behind in the cabin. Amy’s empty suitcase was still in the closet and the dresser drawers contained her underwear and socks andT-shirts. Both their toothbrushes were still in the shared bathroom cabinet, along with a prescription bottle of Julianne’s high blood pressure pills and a box of Clairol hair color.
Jane walked out of the cabin to the front porch where she pulled out her cell phone to call Frost. “You still at their house?” she asked. “How are they?”
“Pretty shaken up, but doing okay, considering,” he said. “Dr. Antrim’s home with them and Julianne’s gone upstairs to take a nap. Any surprises at the lake?”
“Maybe. The crime scene unit found a hammer in Creighton’s vehicle. State lab says it’s got trace blood on it. If it’s Sofia Suarez’s blood—”
“That would really wrap this all up.”
“Except for the question ofwhy? We still don’t know his motive. Why did he kill Sofia? Why did he stalk Amy?”
“Whyanyof this? I know you hate me saying this but, well, it’s a mystery.”
“Yeah, I do hate when you say that.” She looked off toward the lake, where a couple paddled by in their red canoe. The afternoon was windless, the water as flat as glass. “It’s really beautiful here. Makes me want to buy a house on a lake.”
“This calls for a celebration, right? Alice has been wanting to try this new Italian restaurant out past Newton. Everyone in her office is raving about it. What do you think?”
“Maybe. Right now, I’ve got one more detail to check on.”
“What?”
“The autopsy.”
—
Although she was gowned andmasked and her hair was hidden beneath a paper cap, the figure standing at the autopsytable was unmistakably Maura. Watching her through the morgue’s anteroom window, Jane wondered what made Maura so recognizable. Her regal bearing as she reached for a scalpel? Her relentless focus as she stared down at the body laid out on the table? Even as Jane pushed through the door and walked into the autopsy room, Maura did not look up from the cadaver as she completed her Y incision and began snapping through ribs.
“Do you have a time of death?” Jane asked, joining Maura at the table.
“My estimate doesn’t contradict what the witnesses said.” Maura lifted off the sternum, revealing a jewelry box of organs contained within the thorax. “Death was around ten to elevenp.m.I’ve already examined the stab wound in the back. It penetrated the intercostal space between T5 and T6 and it’s consistent with the dimensions of the chef’s knife they have in evidence.” Maura pointed to the neck where the wound, now washed clean of blood, gaped open like a second mouth, pink and smiling. “And as you can see, that second wound incised the left carotid artery. I spoke to the ME in Worcester. He was at the scene last night and described it as a bloody mess.”
“It was,” said Jane.
“They could have done this autopsy in Worcester. You didn’t need to transport the body to Boston.”
“But I knowyouwon’t miss anything. And you’ve been on this investigation from the beginning. I thought you’d appreciate the follow-through.”
“Thank you.”
Was that sarcasm? With Maura it was sometimes hard to tell and Maura’s expression did not offer any clues as she resected heart and lungs and laid open the coronary arteries. No wasted motions, every slice efficient and precise.
