A Profiler's Case for Seduction(78)
“We’ve checked both Ben’s apartment and Melinda’s place and nobody is home at either place,” Richard said. “The police department has stationed a man on each address to see if either of them turns up.”
Mark fought against a new wave of fear as he thanked Richard and then disconnected the call. If Dora wasn’t at either of those places then where could she be? Was she already dead and buried in a shallow grave? His brain rebelled at the very thought.
“Do you know if Melinda has another place besides the one where she lives? Does she own a getaway cabin or anything like that?”
Amanda frowned. “Not that I know of.”
“Neither Melinda nor Ben are home. Do you have any idea where they might be right now?”
“I imagine they’re already out at the bonfire site.” Amanda jumped up from the sofa. “Maybe there’s some information about Melinda owning another house or something in the paperwork she left with me on the day after she was supposedly released from her kidnappers.”
Mark stared at her, his heart thumping. “Papers?”
Amanda walked over to the closet, opened it and then withdrew a tin lockbox from the top shelf. “Melinda brought this to me for safekeeping,” Amanda explained. “At the time she told me she was afraid of what might happen to her next and that this was all the paperwork anyone would need if something bad happened to her.” She held the tin box toward Mark, who grasped it eagerly.
“Get me a sharp knife or a screwdriver,” he said as he carried the box to the small table. The box was locked, but it was cheap, and if Mark couldn’t pick the lock, his adrenaline would give him enough strength to tear it apart.
He was vaguely surprised when Amanda pulled a pink case from under her sofa and opened it to display a small tool kit, complete with hammer, screwdrivers and pliers.
Aware of time ticking by, time that could possibly be measured by Dora’s last gasps, he grabbed the Phillips-head screwdriver and attacked the lock.
After several agonizing minutes, he threw the screwdriver aside with frustration and picked up the hammer. He attacked the box as if it were the person who had taken Dora, and by the time he’d struck the lock several times the lock sprang and the lid unlatched.
Inside were three items and a digital camera. Mark stared at the three things: a gold-plated cigar lighter, a thick rope gold chain and a tie tack bearing the initials of JM.
JM.
“John Merris,” he muttered to himself. Souvenirs. This was a box of souvenirs from the murders. He was vaguely aware of Amanda moving to stand next to him.
Sheriff Burris was a cigar smoker and David Reed’s ex-wife, Eliza, had mentioned that David always wore a chain around his neck, a chain that hadn’t been found on the body.
Mark’s heart thumped in his chest as he picked up the camera and turned it on. The first photo displayed was a picture of Senator John Merris, obviously dead and resting in the shallow pit that had been prepared for his body.
“Oh, my God,” Amanda exclaimed, and whirled away from the table.
Mark hit the button to go to the next photo...and the next...and the next. Prove it or disprove it. The words rang in his head.
With fingers that trembled, Mark pulled out his cell phone and called Richard. “You need to get over to Amanda Burns’s apartment. She has in her possession everything we need to nail Melinda Grayson and Ben Craig for the murders.”
He disconnected the call and then turned to Amanda, who had huddled into a small ball in the corner of the sofa. “Stay here,” he commanded. “An FBI agent will be here to collect the box and its contents. Tell him everything you told me.”
“Where are you going?” she asked, her voice small and fearful.
“To the bonfire. I’ve got to find Dora before those two monsters make her their next victim.” He left the apartment at a run, forgoing his car for the swiftness of his feet as he raced toward the campus.
Night had fallen and a raucous noise drifted on the air from the bonfire site. Laughter and screams and cheers mingled together to form the sound of a rioting, drunken crowd.
He checked his watch. It would soon be nine and the fire would be lit, kicking off the homecoming festivities. The air smelled of popcorn, apples and madness.
Wild. The night was filled with wildness and it whipped through him as he ran, praying he wasn’t already too late.
Chapter 17
Dora regained consciousness in agonizing increments of sensation. Her head ached with a nauseating intensity that kept her eyes closed for several long moments.