The Silent Wife (Will Trent #10) - Karin Slaughter Page 0,133
Could be the bad guy followed her. She recognized his face from before, then he went after her. Or maybe he didn’t give her time to recognize him. Maybe he was mad for interrupting him.”
Jeffrey thought about the internal damage to Tommi Humphrey and Leslie Truong. Rebecca Caterino had been spared that one horror. Frank only knew about the two recent victims, so he had to ask, “What did Truong interrupt?”
“Fucking her?” Frank dragged up another shrug. “Bundy went back to the bodies. I heard this FBI jag-off this one time up in Atlanta. He had this whole presentation. Told us that Bundy would go back days, weeks, sometimes months later. He’d put make-up on ’em, fix their hair, jack off, screw them. He was a twisted individual, that guy. Sometimes, he even cut off their heads and took them back to his place for some alone time.”
Jeffrey didn’t want to hear about Ted Bundy in relation to their case. The serial killer had been captured three times, twice after escaping from custody, though not through any Sherlockian feat of policing. All three times, he’d been pulled over for motor vehicle violations. That kind of luck was not going to happen in Grant County.
Frank said, “Bundy targeted students. He had a type—middle class, long dark hair, slim build, young. Same as my type, come to think about it.”
Jeffrey’s BlackBerry started ringing back in his office. He jogged over to catch it before it went to voicemail. The number belonged to Bonita Truong. Three hours ago, he had left her at the Kudzu Arms outside of Avondale. Jeffrey had told her to get some rest, but they had both known that was not going to happen.
He answered, “Chief Tolliver.”
He heard a gasp for breath on the other end of the line. Jeffrey closed his office door. He sat on the edge of his desk and listened to the woman cry.
She tried, “I-I’m s-so—”
“It’s okay,” he told her. “I’m here.”
“Sh-she—” Her words broke into an unintelligible wail.
Jeffrey thought about the childless mother sitting alone in her room at the Kudzu Arms. The brown carpet that always felt damp. The sagging ceiling and cigarette-scarred bathroom sink. After Sara had kicked him out, Jeffrey had spent many drunken nights at the sleazy roadside inn. Sometimes he’d been alone, most times he’d been with a woman who’d left a phone number the morning after that they both knew he was never going to call.
“I’m s-sorry,” Bonita said.
“Ma’am, you have no reason to apologize.”
The validation brought another wave of tears. Jeffrey silently listened, because that was all he could do. He glanced into the squad room. Frank was at his desk. Marla Simms was helping herself to some coffee. He was mildly irritated that Lena wasn’t there, but then he remembered he’d told her to go to the construction site and gather names.
Jeffrey gritted his teeth so he wouldn’t blurt out something stupid, like promise her that he was going to find and punish the man who had taken away her baby. “Mrs. Truong, I will do everything in my power to make sure you have justice.”
“Justice,” she said, a useless word to someone drowning in grief. “I found—found the picture. The one with the headband. You asked me to see if I had it.”
The woman had left San Francisco yesterday thinking that she would need photographs for missing posters. Now, she would more than likely cull through them to display at her daughter’s funeral.
“I talked—” Bonita’s voice caught again. “Her roommates told me that they had borrowed some things without asking permission. Clothing. Some make-up.”
“I’d still like copies of the photos you brought from home,” Jeffrey requested. He needed to think about this case in terms of working it with Nick. He found a piece of paper and jotted down some notes about Frank’s theory. The attacker returning to the bodies would be dangerous, not least of all because each new contact with the body could leave trace evidence. The killer had either lucked up with the rain or planned it that way.
“I need—” Bonita’s voice caught again. “I need to figure out how this works. How can I—when can I—I need to take her home. She should be at home.”
“I can have the coroner call you. She’ll explain the details.” Jeffrey knew Brock was technically in that position, but he wanted Sara to help this woman. “Are you going to be at the hotel?”