Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [552]
He gently touched the woman’s shoulder, moving her only slightly to get a better view. But what he saw made him jerk away.
“Holy crap!” He bashed his head on the lid of the trunk. He stumbled backward, slipping and almost losing his balance. Almost falling down.
The others stared at the back of the woman again, trying to see what had spooked him.
“It’s that TV reporter,” he said, out of breath and hating that his chest felt like it would explode. “That one who’s been following me around everywhere.”
“What are you talking about?” O’Dell said, stepping in closer to the trunk but waiting for him.
He rolled his shoulders and brushed his hands on the sides of his trousers as if to prepare himself. Then he leaned into the trunk as little as was necessary. He hesitated for only a second before he laid his hand on her shoulder again.
“He took her fucking eyes,” he said, moving her enough for them to see her face. Just enough for them to see the hollow sockets where her blue eyes had once been.
CHAPTER 57
Maggie could hear her cell phone beep, warning her that the battery was low and reminding her that she had forgotten to charge it last night.
“Tully, I’m probably going to lose you pretty soon, so give me the bottom line. Were you able to find out anything by going through Sonny’s e-mails?”
“He talks about getting sick a lot as a kid and his mother giving him medicine that only made it worse. Dr. Patterson suggested—okay now, this could be a long shot, but I think I agree with her—that he may have been the victim of Munchausen’s syndrome by proxy. Are you familiar with that?”
“You think his mother purposely made him sick so that she could get attention?”
“Yes, exactly. Dr. Patterson is talking with the local hospital. She’s hoping her credentials might get someone to check hospital records for maybe five to ten years ago.”
“Could you check another name for me? Jacob Marley. See what you can find on him.”
“Jacob Marley?”
“Yes, he’s the funeral director. I think Joan Begley had pizza with him the night she was taken. It may have been exactly like he told me, a business dinner to wrap up funeral details, but when I visited him yesterday he seemed nervous and guilty about something. And he’s a Junior who hates to be called Junior.”
“If he’s the funeral director he would have had access to Steve Earlman’s embalmed body.”
“Yes, he seemed too prepared to talk about that. But he doesn’t fit the killer’s profile. And now you’re telling me I need to be looking for a hypochondriac who’s also a paranoid delusional maniac because his mother made him sick on purpose? That should be easy to spot.”
“Very funny, O’Dell. I’m trying to help you.”
“I know you are. Sorry. It’s just frustrating.” She slowed the car, taking on more winding curves. “We just found another body.”
“Oh, jeez. Do you know if it’s Begley?”
“No, it isn’t her. It may have been her rent-a-car. They’re still checking it out. It was a local reporter with bad eyes.”
“Let me guess, he took the eyes?”
“Yes. And he stuffed her in the trunk of a car. I worried that he might do this. He probably got paranoid that she was following him, but according to Watermeier she’s been at the rock quarry every day and hounding him.”
Her cell phone beeped again.
“I’m going to lose you, Tully.”
“I’ll call if I find anything on Marley. Oh, and I’ll have Dr. Patterson call you if she finds anything out from the hospital.”
“The thing is it could take too long. If Joan Begley is still alive I have a feeling she won’t be much longer. This last kill means he’s getting panicky. And all we seem to have right now are too many missing imperfections, a whole lot of coincidences and some white, waxy paper from a butcher shop.”
“Butcher-block paper?”
“Yeah, I guess that’s what it’s called. I’m guessing he has tons of it and uses it to wrap and temporarily store the body pieces. I keep thinking it’s got to mean something, but what?