Seconds to Live (Scarlet Falls #3)(79)

She knew it was from him. Donning gloves, she used a letter opener to slit the top.

A sheet of paper slid out. A single sentence was typed in the center of the eight by ten white sheet.

I HAVE NUMBER 3.





Chapter Thirty-Two


“What is the purpose of the notes?” Stella climbed the Spivaks’ front stoop.

Next to her, Brody scanned the street. “He’s taunting you like he did in the interview.”

She pictured Spivak’s smug leer and shivered.

“God, I hope they know where to find him.” Stella rang the doorbell. Another girl’s life depended on it. But did he have Gianna or Janelle?

“Even if they do, they might not be willing to share.” Brody said. “We’re trying to put their son in prison.”

The senior Mr. Spivak was a tall and tidy man. He wore his plaid, short-sleeved shirt tucked in, and a sharp crease bisected the exact center of his jeans. The shriveled woman who stood next to him was colorless, gray from her hair to her eyes to her washed-out housedress.

Stella and Brody showed their badges.

“We already said we’re not talking to the police.” Mrs. Spivak clenched her fingers in front of her sternum. The only parts of her body that moved were her fingers, which worked in a nervous repetition from church to steeple and back again. “Noah’s a grown man. He’s not our responsibility anymore. You can’t hold us accountable for his doings.”

“No one is holding you responsible, ma’am.” Stella peered around their bodies but saw no one behind them. “We just want to ask you a few questions. Are you aware that we’re looking for Noah?”

Mrs. Spivak’s frown sank into the folds of her neck. “I thought you had him in custody?”

“We did,” Stella said. “Someone bailed him out.”

Mrs. Spivak’s open palm pressed just below the hollow of her throat. “Wasn’t us. He belongs in jail. We kicked him out because he threatened to kill us when we wouldn’t give him money to support his cause. We don’t have much. We barely get by, but Noah is obsessed.”

“Does Noah have any other friends who would have bail money?” Stella asked.

Mr. Spivak folded his arms across his chest and ground his molars. “All his friends are crazy bastards with shaved heads and Nazi tattoos.”

“It would help if you could give us a list,” Brody added. “The sooner we get him off the street, the safer you’ll be.”

“I guess you’re right. We’re just afraid he’ll come after us if we turn him in, but I guess he’s probably going to come after us anyway.” Mrs. Spivak moved back, clearing the threshold. “Come in.”

Her husband ushered them into a paneled living room. The decor was stark. No family pictures adorned the walls. No knickknacks cluttered the surfaces. No shoes lined up at the door. Decades of regimented cleaning had scrubbed the house of all signs of life.

Mr. Spivak took a piece of paper from a desk drawer and started writing.

“Did your son leave anything behind in his room?” Stella asked the missus.

“Not really, but you’re welcome to have a look.” Mr. Spivak handed her a list of six names. Three only had first names. “The first few he went to high school with. The others he picked up since. They’re all just as crazy as he is.”

“Thank you. We have a search warrant for his room. Did you want to see it?” Brody reached for the folded paper in his suit jacket.

Mr. Spivak waved the offer away. “No need. If there’s any evidence in his room, you’re welcome to it. I’m sorry to say we’d feel safer if Noah was behind bars.”

Stella and Brody went down the hall and took a quick turn around Noah’s room. The twin bed, dresser, and desk in heavy grained oak were likely the same he used in childhood. A braided rug occupied the center of the oak floor.

Stella put on gloves and checked the drawers. All empty. Then she pulled each one out and inspected the outside and bottom. Nothing. “He cleaned this place out pretty well.”

Brody opened the closet door and took down a box of trophies. “Everything he left behind is from his childhood. Nothing current.”

“He wasn’t always a bad kid, but he always took up with the wrong sort.” Mr. Spivak hunched in the doorway. His gaze settled on the box, his frown turning bittersweet. “He was a smart kid in high school. Went away to college on a scholarship. Then he hooked up with these skinhead types. Nothing but trouble since.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Brody returned the box to the closet.

“No.” Mr. Spivak exhaled, and his body deflated. “I know we seem harsh, but we’re at our wits’ end. Noah is out of control. The best thing for everyone is if he gets put away where he can’t hurt anyone.”

Stella scanned the room one last time but saw nothing left to search.

“I think we’re done here,” she said. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Spivak.”

He walked them to the door and let them out. “I hope you find him before he hurts someone.”

“So do we.” Stella followed Brody out to the car. Her stomach churned. “How many hotline tips do we have?”

“There were eighty-seven calls to the hotline, but most were useless.” Brody pulled out a sheet of paper. “We have six.”