The Unknown Beloved(118)

“Get out of my car, O’Shea,” Malone warned, but O’Shea just talked faster.

“When you came back here . . . I worried. I didn’t understand it. Couldn’t figure out why you were here. So I followed you a bit. Asked that kid about you. He said you were asking questions about the Butcher. Then I saw Ness pick you up one day. Made me feel better. But I kept an eye out.”

Malone started the car. He didn’t have time for this. He didn’t have time. Malone knew where Eliot would be. Where they all would be, and bile rose and burned his throat. Darby O’Shea would just have to come along for the ride.

“I saw the two of you on Short Vincent,” O’Shea babbled. “She saw me too. Scared me a little. I thought you might think I was up to no good. Maybe send someone after me. So I took off for a few days. But I came back.”

“When did you see her last?” Malone asked.

“I don’t know . . . she gave me her medallion. Told me to take care of myself. I thought she was fine. A little sad about the eyes and mouth. But I’m guessing that was your fault. I should have warned her offa ya, like I warned that kid. You got enemies. You got enemies . . . and now she’s gone.”

Malone stared straight ahead, his hands gripping the wheel.

“Where did you go?” O’Shea shouted. “Where the hell you been?” He had a hand braced against the dash and the other hanging on to the door. Malone was not driving cautiously. “I’ll kill you, Malone. If something’s happened to that girl, I’ll kill you.”

If something had happened to Dani, Malone would kill himself.

Darby O’Shea fell back against the seat, releasing his death hold on the dash and covering his face. “Oh God,” he moaned. “George. George, forgive me. I’m always too late. I’m always too late.”



Malone drove to the city morgue. The Butcher’s latest victims would have been brought there, and that’s where Ness would be. Where they all would be if there were new remains to examine. Darby O’Shea rode beside him in introspective silence, and when Malone pulled into the parking lot, the man followed close on his heels. Malone did not protest.

In April, Malone had waited outside the city morgue for news on Victim #10. He didn’t wait now. He walked through the front doors and past the sign-in desk without slowing his stride. It was something he’d learned long ago: look like you know where you’re going, and no one will stop you.

No one did.

No one yelled, You can’t go in there, or asked for his credentials. No one even turned their head. He walked down a long corridor, past doorways and gurneys and evidence tables, past technicians and policemen. He even walked past Coroner Gerber, who was huddled with a group that hung on his every word. Malone did not slow to hear the discussion, and no one looked up as he passed. He must have looked like he belonged. Confident. In control. Unconcerned. But when Malone saw Eliot, he felt none of those things. His legs went numb, and his head swam. He didn’t know how he remained upright for the final few steps.

Ness looked like he hadn’t slept since Capone. Maybe he hadn’t. His hair stuck up on the sides like he’d been sitting with his hands gripping his head. His tie was loose and his trousers creased in a thousand places.

“Mike?” Eliot asked, baffled. “Why are you here?” Then his eyes skipped to Darby O’Shea, still at Malone’s heels, but Malone was too distraught to make introductions or give explanations. Instead he asked, “Is it her, Eliot. Did you find her?”

“Who?” Eliot asked, bewildered.

“Did you find Dani?” Malone insisted, gripping Eliot by his rumpled lapels. He needed something to hold on to.

“What are you talking about?” Eliot gasped.

“Dani’s gone.”

Eliot blanched, but he shook his head.

“Yes!” Malone hissed. “Yes! She hasn’t been seen since five o’clock yesterday. And you have two new victims. So I need to know if you found her, goddamn it.”

“We found a body, Mike. Two of them. But not Dani. The woman’s remains are old. Four months old, at least, David says.”

Malone released Eliot’s lapels and staggered back into Darby O’Shea, who was praising Jesus, Mary, and Joseph beneath his breath. But Malone’s relief was a wave that slapped the shore and instantly receded. Dani was still missing.

“We found them yesterday,” Eliot continued, rushing to reassure him. “Two people. Dumped at the same site. Corner of East Ninth and Lakeshore. Not too far from city hall. The remains of a woman and a man. Not together. Not even dead the same amount of time. But they were placed there sometime yesterday, we think. We got a head in a tin can, thighs in butcher paper, and a torso wrapped up in a yellow quilt like a baby.” He rubbed at his face, and for a minute, Malone thought he might break down.

“Eliot,” Malone whispered. “Where is Francis Sweeney?”





29


She ran from him.

The building was spacious, and the corners were dark and empty, and there were a number of places to hide, but she raced to the only place with a lock on the door.

“Come back, Daniela. Whatever are you going to do in there?” he called.

She pulled the heavy door of the cold locker closed behind her and turned the bolt. Sweeney had a key. He’d unlocked the front door. Did he know his key would unlock the cold storage too? She held the bolt down with shaking fingers. A moment later, she felt tension in the lock. He knew.