Page 140 of Cold, Cold Bones

Slidell was gone.

Ryan didn’t ask. I was grateful for that.

It took several minutes to wrap my mind around this new development. Several more until I was calm enough to lay it out for Ryan. During that time, he made mint tea. Like Gran, Ryan sees brewed herbs as the panacea for every ill.

We sat, backs propped against the pillows, Ryan’s arm wrapping my shoulders. I talked. He listened.

“You’re up to speed on this copycat situation, right?” I knew he was. We’d talked of little else. The unnecessary intro was a soporific for my anxiety.

“I am.”

“Slidell and I think there’s another victim. A child.”

“Tabarnak.”

It was Quebecois Ryan’s go-to cuss. I ignored it and continued. “As you just heard, Olivia Lakin has been missing for almost twenty-four hours. She’s eleven years old. Yesterday morning she was abducted while walking to school.”

Ryan sipped his tea.

“What you don’t know is that Olivia’s profile matches that of another girl killed years ago. Elizabeth Ellen ‘Lizzie’ Nance was also eleven. She was taken in broad daylight while walking home from a ballet class.”

“You and Slidell worked the case?”

“Yes.”

Synapses fired in my brain, bringing memories of the whole horror show. The massive media coverage. The hundreds of volunteers answering tip lines, posting flyers, searching woods and lakes near Lizzie’s complex. To no avail.

Two weeks after Lizzie’s disappearance, decomposed remains were found in a nature preserve northwest of Charlotte. My mind flashed images of the small body lying supine among the dead leaves, feet together, arms tucked to her sides, hair haloing her little white face.

Lizzie’s corpse had been carefully arranged by the hands of her abductor.

I experienced a tickle of the same rage I’d felt back then.

“Did you catch the kid’s killer?”

“We did. But not until years after her death.”

Deep breath. Then I shared the final terrifying element.

“Lizzie’s satchel was found in a wooded area off a rural two-lane. Last night, Olivia’s backpack was found in a wooded area off Rea Road.”

“A rural two-lane?”

“Not rural exactly, but sparsely developed suburban. Inside the backpack were a black leotard and tights, pink cotton underwear, and blue Crocs. Olivia’s mother says those items don’t belong to her daughter.”

I swallowed.

“Lizzie Nance died wearing a black leotard and tights, pink cotton underwear, and blue Crocs.”

31

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY19

Slidell and I agreed that the ballet clothing in the backpack was meant as a threat to me. That Olivia Lakin’s disappearance was linked to the other copycat murders. That the perp was escalating.

Three points of concurrence. Might have been a record.

Skinny asked that I meet with his task force first thing in the morning. And that I come prepared.