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Bed covers were on the floor along with a pillow. It seemed like someone had made a quick exit.
He looked around the room some more. Under the bed he saw some lengths of rope. He examined them and then set them back down. He next spotted something else that might or might not be important.
Blood.
A few drops by one of the bed’s wheels.
The upstairs search took longer than he wanted it to, especially after he found nothing.
He opened a door off the kitchen and found himself in the garage. There were four bays. Two were occupied. He walked around the four-door Chevy Equinox and then eyed the Massachusetts plates.
He opened the driver’s side door and sat in the seat. He checked the glove box, found the Hertz rental agreement, and confirmed that Benjamin Bing had leased the vehicle at Logan Airport. Under the passenger seat he found a fully loaded Sig Sauer nine-mill with an extended mag. And a pair of brass knuckles. He would have had to check those in his baggage if he had indeed flown up here. He got out and popped the trunk, and in there he found zip ties, duct tape, and a serrated knife that had Bing’s name stenciled on the handle.
Standard abduction tool kit. But no sniper rifle.
He leaned against the car and wondered if any of these things had been used on Jenny. Had they taken her here, strapped her to the bed, fed her a truth-drug concoction to make her talk, and then killed her here before dropping her onto the rocks?
He turned to where a white van was parked in the fourth bay. He noted the painting equipment and metalworking supplies that were positioned next to it.
He opened the van’s door and checked the glove box. He found the registration and saw the name.
BING AND SONS.
He shone his light around the van, noting that the right front fender and bumper and the headlight frame were in the process of being repaired.
He knelt down and hit the underside of the van with his light. Next, he got on his back for a closer examination. That looked like blood on the underside of the bumper. And was that human hair and bits of clothing? Yeah, it probably was.
He now knew who had hit and killed Alberta Palmer.
He called Campbell, who answered on the first ring, and filled him in.
“Add Benjamin Bing to your BOLO,” Devine said.
He next called Chief Harper and told him what he’d found.
“Holy shit! No sign of Fred or Françoise?”
“None,” said Devine.
“You think their uncle has them?”
“I’m far more concerned about Alex.”
“I’ve got the state police out looking. I’ll tell them about this.”
Devine hung up and called Dak’s cell phone. The man miraculously picked up.
In succinct sentences, Devine filled Dak in about everything.
“Motherfucker,” exclaimed Dak before Devine even finished. “You hang in there, Devine. I’m coming. Let me get dressed. I’ll be—Aw shit, I’m bleeding. Fuck!”
“You’re not going anywhere, Dak. It’s not why I called you. Ring for the nurse to fix your dressings. While you’re waiting, can you think of any place they might have taken Alex?”
Dak was breathing hard, and Devine could even hear some sobs from the man.
“Come on, Dak, I know this is hard. But just focus. I need some help here. Time is not on our side.”
“Okay, okay.”
