Bone Music (Burning Girl #1)(108)
When did this break? Charley types.
An hour ago, Bailey responds. No word of this at LAPD this weekend. Elle Schaeffer’s only been here a few months. Moved here from Wisconsin. No family in SoCal, and her parents passed away a few years ago. No one reported her missing until Monday when she didn’t show up for work.
Where are you getting this info? she types.
Um. The LA Times website.
The blood left Luke’s cheeks as Charley had described what she saw in the gym.
He’s been silent ever since, his focus on the road, his jaw working as if there’s something stuck in the back of his teeth. Maybe he was just indulging her, holding out hope they were following the wrong guy, and now the reality of this is sinking in.
Pemberton uses his remote to get through the entry gate to his building.
Luke keeps driving, bypasses the spot they parked in that morning, then onto side streets. Meanwhile, the blip indicating the doctor’s motorcycle goes still as he parks.
“If he has someone alive, this changes everything,” Charley finally says.
“It does.” For once he’s not disagreeing with her.
Lag time between abductions and masks. Three weeks, right?
Longer, Bailey answers. A month.
“Jesus,” she whispers.
“A month. A month goes by between the abduction and the mask. Luke, if he’s got a captive, we can’t just keep watching him like this.”
“I agree, but we don’t have evidence that he does.”
“I told you what I saw at the gym.”
“You did, and it’s revolting, but it’s not proof he abducted Elle Schaeffer.”
“He was literally aroused by the story of her disappearance. As in the actual definition of literally.”
“Which is proof that he’s a sexual sadist, and maybe even the Mask Maker. But it doesn’t connect him to Elle Schaeffer. The news could just be speculating about her being a victim. People go missing all the time. You really think he’s got a woman up there in that condo?”
“No, I think if he’s got her anywhere it’s at the Temecula house. I’m calling Marty.”
“OK. Once you do, I’ve got a question I want you to text Bailey.”
When Marty answers, he tells her he just got to the RV down at the casino, that he left the surveillance post about twenty minutes before. There’s been no sign of life from inside the house all day. The guy who feeds the dogs came back at the same time, obeyed the same routine. In short, nothing seems any different from the day before.
“You don’t sound good,” he says.
“Call me right away if it seems like anyone’s inside. Or anyone else shows up.”
“Sure thing, Charley.”
As soon as she hangs up, Luke says, “Ask Bailey how long this plastic-nation—”
“Plastination.”
“Right. Ask him how long the process takes.”
She does. Bailey’s response comes a minute later.
An entire body takes fifteen hours of work. But I don’t know what percent of that is just posing limbs. If you’re just dealing with a face separate from a body, a lot less time, obviously.
“He doesn’t know.”
“But a while, right?” Luke asks. He’s found a parking spot two blocks away. They can’t see the high-rise, but they can see the entry gate, and both trackers are stationary and right next to each other now. “Charley?”
“Yes, a while,” she says. “Just tell me what your theory is.”
“I think the lag time between the abductions and the masks is about the process he needs to actually make them. My guess? He kills his victims right away. Because if he did abduct Elle Schaeffer on Saturday, and we don’t have proof that he did, look at how he’s acting now. He’s been at work all day. He did . . . what? A two-hour workout at the gym?” She nods. “And there’s no sign of life at his country house. This isn’t the behavior of a man who’s got a captive somewhere. Also, the mask-making process is complex. I can’t see him making one mask while tending to a different captive in another room while also holding down what looks like a pretty kick-ass career as a plastic surgeon.”
They’re good points, all of them.
“And if you’re wrong?” she asks.
“Then we treat Graydon to a show of you fighting off some really mean Dobermans. Think you’re up to it? I mean, it might be an off-label use, but last time I checked, they didn’t exactly have FDA approval for this thing.”
“I’m glad I have you around for comic relief.”
“Hopefully, I’m worth more than that.”
“You are . . . I think.”
“You think?”
She reaches into her pocket, pulls out the case for the contact lenses, which looks somewhat like a normal case for normal contact lenses, except for the fact that it’s made out of stainless steel.
“Are we ready for these?” she asks.
“I don’t know. Are we? I mean, seems soon.”
“Maybe I just want them to know who we’re after. And why.”
“Runs the risk of them shutting us down if they think it’s too dangerous.”
“Maybe. Or maybe Graydon will step in and take down the dogs for us if they can tell he’s got someone alive in that house.”