“I don’t see a camera here anywhere,” Reed said, peering in the closet. “He must have it with him.”
“Look at this one,” Ellery said. She pointed at the most disturbing photo, one that showed Chloe’s face looking out her bedroom window. “He’s been to her house.”
“He’s been everywhere she was,” Reed replied, his gaze flicking over the wall of photos.
“Yes, but where are they now?”
Outside, the sound of approaching sirens signaled the arrival of backup. They would need a team to comb through the apartment for anything of evidentiary value. Reed pulled out his phone and turned as if to leave but stopped in his tracks. “Ellery. Look.”
She turned around and saw the back wall. This one had printed-out newspaper headlines and articles from the murders of Trevor Stone and Carol Frick.
BOY, HOUSKEEPER SLAIN
STONE-COLD KILLER ON THE LOOSE
POLICE QUESTION BROTHER IN DOUBLE HOMICIDE
COULD THE HOUSKEEPER HAVE BEEN A TARGET?
TREVOR STONE LAID TO REST
CITY MOURNS LOST SON
NEIGHBORHOOD PANIC GROWS AS KILLER REMAINS AT LARGE
TEN YEARS LATER, TREVOR STONE’S KILLER STILL UNKNOWN
“You see? Her name isn’t anywhere,” Lisa said, still sniffling as Ellery studied the headlines. “That’s what bothered him. She was always just ‘the housekeeper’—someone there by accident. Her death didn’t matter at all.”
“Did you know about this?” Ellery asked, indicating the paper trail.
“No. I mean, he talked about it whenever the case made the news again, how all the focus was on Trevor and not on our mom. But I had no clue he did … that.” She gestured weakly at the clippings and printouts.
Ellery went to the bookshelf, scanning it for clues. Paperback techno thrillers, sci-fi, books on photography. He had a baseball signed by David Ortiz and a framed photograph of himself and Lisa against the backdrop of leafy trees and a textured wall of rock. Ellery picked up the picture and studied it. “If he’s not here, where else might he go?”
“I have no idea.”
“Think hard.”
“I am. Bobby was always kind of a loner. He’d take his camera out into the woods to shoot pictures by himself. He was either doing that, visiting me, or at work.”
“Where does he work?”
“At a stone quarry not far away.”
“A stone quarry. Like where they process rocks for foundations and stuff?”
“I guess. I don’t know the details.”
“We have to get over there,” Ellery said to Reed. “It could be where he’s keeping her.”
“I’ll come with you,” Lisa said, heading for the door.
“No,” Reed and Ellery said at the same time.
She halted and turned around again. “I have to know what happened to him.”
“We’ll keep in touch,” Reed said, touching her arm on the way by. “Right now, the arriving officers are going to need your help.”
“But—”
Ellery didn’t catch the rest of Lisa’s protest. She heard only the sound of her boots on the stairs as she fled down the staircase. Moments behind her, Reed caught up as she reached the exit. Ellery glanced up long enough to see Lisa’s worried face in the window watching as they got into the car. “I don’t blame her for wanting to tag along,” she said. “It must be hell on her, too, the not knowing.”
“She’s afraid of what we’re going to find,” Reed said as she started the car.
“You mean Chloe.”
“I mean Bobby. That letter he left her—it was a suicide note.”
28
Reed worked the phones while Ellery drove. “The manager of the Stonewall Quarry is a man named Nga Nall,” he explained to the Providence PD. “We need him to meet us there. Go pick him up immediately—there is a young girl’s life at stake.” His shoulder slammed into the car door as Ellery careened around a tight corner. “We’ll also need a search team and medics on-site.”
“You think we’ll find her there,” Ellery said when he hung up the phone.
“I hope we’ll find her there.” He’d been grasping for motive since Chloe’s abduction, and now it was clear. Bobby Frick’s psychological profile had never matched that of a typical kidnapper; he was more akin to a suicide bomber or a man who shot up a public place before turning the gun on himself. He was going down, but he aimed to inflict as much pain as possible on his way out.
They arrived at the quarry, which was surrounded by a high fence and blocked by a locked gate. Ellery left her headlights on for illumination as she grabbed the fence at the door and yanked with both hands. It swayed slightly, but the lock held fast. Reed checked his phone. “They have Nall. ETA is now fifteen minutes.”
“We can’t wait that long.” Ellery started climbing the fence.
“What are you doing? There’s barbed wire up there.”
“So I’ll get cut.”
Reed looked up and down the deserted road, wishing for backup that wasn’t yet close. Ellery reached the top and cursed as the wire caught her clothes. He heard a rip, followed by another string of cursing. “Are you okay?” he asked as she struggled over the barbs.
“Peachy,” she muttered.
He shone his flashlight at her and saw blood on the palm of her left hand. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing,” she said, slightly breathless as she jumped down on the other side. She found the lockbox and fished out a set of keys. She tried one, then another. “This is bullshit,” she said. “They’ll be here in another few minutes.”
“Yes,” he said reasonably. “They will.”
“Aha,” she said with satisfaction as the key fit and the lock sprang open. She yanked the gate open and Reed slipped inside. Mountains of rocks stood off to the right side. On the left was a long building with few windows, as well as smaller piles of daintier rocks. Reed sneezed as the dust tickled his nose.
Ellery had her flashlight out now and she began prowling the grounds. Reed followed at a distance, eyeing the hulking earthmovers that loomed like mechanical monsters in the dark. His phone buzzed with a message from their old friend Detective Jake Osborne, who was en route with the plant manager. Nall says Bobby Frick hasn’t been to work in a week, the text message read. Reed relayed this news to Ellery as she stood on the edge of a dumpster-like container and peered inside. “He may not be here,” he said to her. “We should be thinking of other possibilities.”
Ellery shone her light on a pile of rough stones, each about the size of a small beach ball. “You see those fieldstones? They’re the same kind we saw in the photo of Chloe. We’re on the right track. Let’s see if we can get into the building.”
“Lead the way.” Reed followed her to the doors, which were, not surprisingly, also locked. The keys she’d acquired didn’t seem to work.
“Maybe we can use one of the rocks to break a window,” she said, standing on tiptoe and cupping her hands around her eyes to try to see inside the building.