"Call me when you get up," Caleb said, and disconnected. Then he slouched back in his chair, scowling at the gray clouds already scudding across the sky outside.
He'd wanted to search Madison's mother's house today, had hoped to find the contents of that box. He wasn't sure it would relate to Susan's disappearance in any way, but he knew it couldn't hurt to have a look. Maybe it would help the police finally solve the old case, finally prove Madison right--or wrong--about her father. But he'd lost her cooperation.
He'd lost a hell of a lot more than her cooperation....
The case. He needed to move on. What was he missing? What small detail had the killer left behind that would eventually be his undoing? Surely there had to be something.
According to the FBI profiler, the perpetrator was methodical, obsessive, manipulative. Like John Wayne Gacy, he probably managed to appear functional. Maybe he held a steady job, participated in community events. Which meant he could be one of a million different men living in Seattle.
Except this killer was probably impotent, judging by the way his victims had been sexually assaulted. And the profiler had given them one limiting physical factor--she'd said the killer wasn't very large. He was attacking small women to be sure he could physically overpower them, and he was using the date rape drug, Rohypnol, to improve his odds.
Caleb drummed his fingers on the table, asking himself the same questions he'd been asking all along. Who knew enough about the case to set up the crime scene? And who had the cunning, the complete self-absorption required to commit such crimes?
Johnny knew an awful lot about the case. He'd seen some of the crime-scene pictures. In an effort to get someone to talk, the police had shown the whole Purcell family those shocking photos. But Johnny's thinking was simply too disorganized. He lacked the control to get away with something like this.
Tye, on the other hand, appeared functional, even capable, and knew as much about the case as Johnny. But Caleb didn't believe he was their man, either. For one thing, he couldn't see Tye limiting his attacks to small women. Tye wasn't particularly tall, but he was muscular. And from what Gibbons had said, Madison's oldest brother had an explosive temper. An explosive temper would too easily tempt him beyond the veil of secrecy and premeditation required to commit the kind of murders they were dealing with.
Caleb took the picture of Susan standing outside the pizza place out of his wallet and stared down at her blurry profile. He knew Gibbons would be contacting Tye Purcell to ask him about the contents of the box missing from under the house. But Caleb didn't want to wait. Now that Madison knew who he really was, maybe the time had come to confront her brother face-to-face.
TYE LIVED IN AN OLDER, rather depressed neighborhood of small, cookie-cutter houses, very few of which had a garage. Here and there, a carport had been finished off by homeowners seeking more living space. Tye's carport was still open, however, and housed a weight bench, which he happened to be using when Caleb arrived.
Pausing when he heard the car, Tye rested the barbells in the stand over his head and sat up, letting his hands dangle between his legs. "What are you doing here?" he asked as he watched Caleb approach.
It was nearly eight o'clock, which wasn't too early for a workday. But this was Sunday. Caleb had expected to find Tye in bed, but had wanted to catch him before he went out. "I have a few questions for you," he said.
"What kind of questions?" Suddenly indifferent, Tye started bench-pressing another set. It was chilly out, gray, overcast and a little windy, but Tye wore only a pair of karate pants and a T-shirt with the sleeves cut out. He had a Chinese dragon tattooed on his right biceps, very similar to the one embroidered on the jacket in his father's Ford, making Caleb wonder if he'd been wrong about the owner of that jacket. In any case, judging by the tattoo and the pants, Caleb guessed Tye was either taking or teaching karate. Which supported his gut feeling that if Tye wanted to hurt a woman, he wouldn't feel the need to use drugs....
Folding his arms, Caleb leaned against the corner of the house. He'd expected to see some sign of Tye's wife and kids. His wife had provided his alibi, after all. But except for Tye, the place seemed deserted. The only vehicle was Tye's Explorer parked out at the curb.
"Where's the wife and kids?" Caleb asked, noting the bikes, scooters and baseball gloves tossed against the shed that comprised the back wall of Tye's carport.
Tye paused with the barbell straight over his head. "Is that one of your questions?" he asked, his muscles straining. "Because it's none of your damn business." The barbell clanged as he shoved it roughly into the stand and sat up, his eyes narrower than before. "Why don't you just tell me what the hell you're doing out here?"
"I know about the box of women's underwear and trinkets under the house," Caleb said.
Tye's eyebrows raised a notch. "So? What does that box mean to you?"
"My sister-in-law was just murdered, strangled like the women your father was accused of killing. I think there might be some connection."
Tye's face was devoid of emotion. "Was she killed before or after you moved in with Madison?"
"Before."
Tye swore softly under his breath. "Did Madison know that when she let you move in?"
"She knows it now."
"I hope she kicked your ass out," Tye said.
"Once I get the answers I need, I'm leaving anyway."
Tye stared at him for a moment. "Well, much as I'd like to help, that stuff belonged to my father. And if you know anything about the case, which I'm guessing you do, you know he's dead. You're wasting your time here."
"Humor me," Caleb said.
"How?"
"Where's the stuff in that box?"
Tye scowled darkly. "You said yourself that it was under the house."
"Until a couple weeks ago. Now it's gone." Caleb couldn't tell if Tye was surprised or not. He just kept stroking his goatee with his thumb and index finger.
"Well, I don't give a shit," he said at last. "That box has nothing to do with me."
"Then why didn't you take it to police?"
"Kiss my ass." Rolling back, he started yet another set, but Caleb didn't leave as he was obviously expected to. He dug into his pocket and retrieved the picture of Susan outside the pizzeria.
"Do you know this woman?" he asked, shoving the picture in front of Tye's face.
Tye grunted as he lifted the barbell for the twelfth time, arms shaking. When he put the weights away, he grabbed the photograph but only glanced at it briefly before handing it back. "What are you, a cop?"