The Soul Catcher - Alex Kava [125]
“They’ll be careful,” he said, and she glanced at him over her shoulder. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner about your mom being a part of Everett’s church?”
She came back from the window, stood on the opposite side of the table, in front of him. “Guess I didn’t want to believe it myself. And then I thought I could just talk some sense into her. You know, warn her. Pretty stupid, huh?”
“Nah. I think we all like to believe we have some sort of powers of influence over family members. Like, of course they’d want our advice, our suggestions. Sometimes I think the only thing natural about families is that we happen to share some of the same DNA.”
She managed a weak smile, and he was pleased that he could help. But then he realized it wasn’t enough when she asked, “Is Gwen around?”
Of course, she’d want her best friend.
“No, I don’t think Cunningham called her in. She was headed for her office when we got back from Boston. Maybe she’s still there.” He pretended not to care, but found himself wondering if Gwen was working late or home fixing some gourmet meal for herself in her cozy brownstone. Maybe spaghetti. He smiled, then caught himself, glanced at O’Dell to see if she noticed. She was looking over the mess. He was safe. Besides, Gwen wanted to forget it happened. And it probably was better that they do just that. He knew she was right.
He flipped through one of the many documents scattered over the table but wasn’t taking any of it in. He should probably go home. Even if they brought in Everett and that kid, Brandon, there was nothing more they could do tonight. But he didn’t want to go home. With Emma in Cleveland at her mom’s, the house was too empty, too quiet. It would probably just give him time to think about Boston. That wasn’t good—he was supposed to be forgetting about Boston.
O’Dell started pacing, close to the table so she could review the messy pile. He watched her as her eyes darted over the crime scene photos, but instead of stopping, she kept pacing, looking at them with each sweep. Had she not been worried about her mother, she’d be straightening out the mess, organizing and sorting and putting things into her neat little piles, trying to create order out of everyone else’s disorder. He wished she was doing just that. It unnerved him to see her like this.
Suddenly, she noticed something and stopped. She picked up two of the photos from Ginny Brier’s crime scene and started looking from one to the other.
“What is it?”
“Not sure.” And she set the photos down. The pacing began again.
“Do you have any idea what this stuff is and what it’s doing here?” Tully pointed to the heap on the corner of the table. More than anything, he just wanted her attention. She was starting to spook him.
“Garrison left those things behind. Guess he was in a hurry this morning.”
“And we’re keeping them because…?”
She shrugged and this time stopped to pick up the lightweight contraption, turning it over in her hands. She fidgeted with it and accidently popped what was a security latch. The thing sprung open.
“It’s a tripod,” she said, setting it on the table.
Now Tully could see the small plate where a camera could be attached and the lever to tilt and swivel it around. Suddenly, he was beside her, staring at the tripod. He rushed around the table and started riffling through photos, plucking three, one from each crime scene out of the mess. Still not saying a word, he came back around to Maggie’s side and placed the photos on the table next to the feet of the tripod. The photos were of the strange circular marks left in the dirt. In the photo from the FDR Memorial crime scene, there had been two, possibly three circular marks, spaced in such a way they could form a triangle.
“Is it possible?” he asked.
He had the tripod in his hands and was examining its feet and the length between them. Why hadn’t he thought about it before? The tripod’s feet would certainly leave similar marks in the dirt. While he turned the thing over, Maggie suddenly grabbed the two photos of Ginny Brier—the ones she had picked