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  “I have Delilah Occum’s and I’m talking to Serena Jones in about five hours. Her daughter is Yvette Jones.”

  “She has her daughter’s X-rays?”

  “I don’t know if she has them at six-thirty in the morning. But she did say she’ll give them to me when we speak.”

  “When’s the appointment?”

  “Eleven.”

  “Can you bump it up?”

  “I’ll call her at eight and see if she can meet as soon as possible. In the meantime, I’ll start packing up. I don’t suppose you know anything about the bones?”

  “Not yet. As soon as we knew we found a body, we stopped to wait for the coroner. If you’re back by noon, we should know more.”

  “We need to expand the search area, Mike. At least another half mile out in all directions.”

  “Agreed,” Radar answered. “I’m putting up posts for volunteers over the Internet and in the local paper. We’ve got a lot of retirees who’ve helped us out before. We should have a cadaver dog by this afternoon. What a PR nightmare. You want to handle it?”

  “Ask Karen to do it. She’s pretty slick.”

  “Okay. I’ll keep you updated.”

  Radar cut the line. Decker stood, put on a robe, and shuffled into the kitchen. Rina had already showered and was helping Cindy with breakfast for the boys. She took one look at him and escorted him into the living room, away from young ears.

  “Bad news?”

  “Another body.”

  She brought her hand to her mouth. “Good heavens.”

  “Three cold cases with very little forensic evidence. I come to Greenbury for semiretirement and I’m saddled with a serial killer.”

  Cindy walked out, drying her hand on a dish towel. “Another set of bones?”

  “Yes,” Decker said.

  Cindy said, “How extensive is your missing persons list?”

  “I’m winnowing it down.”

  “If you need a bigger data bank, I’m here for you.”

  “I might take you up on the offer.” Decker kissed her forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  They heard one of the twins scream out “Mommy!”

  “My exit line.” Cindy went back into the kitchen.

  To Rina, Decker said, “We’ve extended the search area. At this rate, the whole area will be dug up by Halloween. Talk about ghosts . . . more like zombies rising from the graves.”

  “I can’t think of a more competent detective to have on a case of this magnitude.”

  “Thank you for the endorsement.” He smiled. “I’d better wake up McAdams. At best, he’s not a morning person. I’m hardly awake myself. I really need coffee.”

  “There’s a fresh pot in the kitchen, as well as your grandsons. It’s time to put on your game face and greet your loved ones.”

  Decker was already smiling. “How are they?”

  “Go in and find out.”

  Dr. Michael and Serena Jones lived in a plush, upscale neighborhood a few blocks away from the old Barnes Museum. Decker and Rina had visited the world-class art collection years ago on their historic vacation through Boston and Philadelphia. The collection was now housed in the culture corridor of downtown Philadelphia. What was lost was the charm of seeing the paintings in a mansion in Lower Merion, where the houses were roomy and cushy and the acreage was green and sylvan.

  The Joneses’ address put the two detectives in front of a sizable brick house with a pitched roof on a lot with mature trees. Around the house and up the stone walkway were multihued mums—a blast of color and texture throughout the yard. Decker picked up a brass knocker in the shape of a lion’s head and gently rapped it against a polished walnut door. The woman who answered appeared to be in her sixties with brown eyes set in a round face and framed by blond bouffant hair. Her makeup was expertly applied: rosy cheeks, rosy lips, and matching rose nails. She was average height and carried a few extra pounds around her middle. She wore a white sleeveless blouse—her wrists sparkling with jeweled bangles—and cuffed denim jeans. Flesh-colored, studded sandals highlighted rose-painted toenails. She led them into a front parlor that held a love seat and two chairs upholstered in chintz. A baby grand was tucked into the corner. Muted light was streaming through the front mullioned window.

  “Please have a seat,” she said. “My husband would have been here, but he got called out on an emergency.”

  Decker sat down on a chair and McAdams took the love seat. “What kind of a doctor is he?”

  “Psychiatrist. Most of his patients are in facilities and are medicated, but when one goes haywire, it affects the entire place.” A brief smile. “Coffee? Tea?”

  “Unfortunately . . . we’re in a big rush. We have to leave for Greenbury as soon as possible.”

  “Oh?” A beat. “Dare I ask why?”

  Decker raised an eyebrow. “You know that we’ve been scouring a wooded area around the Five Colleges of Upstate.”

  “Of course. Where you found . . . bones,” Serena said.

  “Yes. Our department, in their search of the area, found another set of remains.” The woman didn’t speak. “We could really use those dental X-rays, Mrs. Jones.”

  Serena wiped a tear from her eye before it could smudge her mascara. “I’ll get them for you right now.”

  “Thank you.” It didn’t take more than a minute before she handed him an envelope with the films inside. He said, “I would like to ask you a few questions, though, before we head off.”

  “Certainly.” She hesitated but sat down in the unused, matching chair. She waited for Decker to speak.

  “The school—Morse McKinley—has the particulars of your daughter’s disappearance. So does the police station. I’m traveling with a very abbreviated file. Could you tell me what you know about your daughter’s disappearance?”

  Serena spoke quietly. “The last time anyone saw Yvette was around eight in the evening. She had attended a lecture and never made it back to her dorm.”

  “Do you know if she was walking alone back to her room?”

  “No, I have no idea where she went. And no one claimed to see her after the lecture. But you know how it is. No one wants to get involved.”

  “That is a problem. By any chance did you hire a private detective?”

  “After the police failed, yes.”

  “Do you have anything from him or her that might be useful to me?”

  “I have a file.”

  “I’d like to take it with me so I can read it carefully. Would you mind?”

  “As long as I get it back.”

  “I’ll copy it and send it back. I promise.”

  “It might take me a few minutes to dig it up. I have so many notes and files.”

  “Could I have your entire files?”

  She stared at him. “It’s a lot of notes.”

  “The more I know, the better.”

  “You actually intend to do something?”

  “To the best of my ability. And even if the remains are not a match to your daughter, I’ll reopen the case and do my best to figure out what happened.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m going to remember your words, Detective.”

  “That’s fine. Briefly, could you tell me a little bit about Yvette? What would you like her legacy to be?”

  “Wow . . .” She looked down. “Yvette . . . she was a good girl—strong willed, opinionated, outspoken. She was always advocating for the underdog. She was very idealistic. Lots of kids go through that stage.”

  McAdams said, “You thought it was a stage?”

  “How do I put this so I don’t sound judgmental?” Serena sighed. “At the time of her disappearance, I felt she was very confused.”

  “In what way?” Decker asked.

  “In every way. What she wanted to be . . . who she wanted to be. She came home at Christmas during her freshman year and announced she was gay. Then she came home for spring break and announced she had a boyfriend.”

  “Who?”
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  “She didn’t say. He must have been short-lived, because when she came home after her first year, she told us she was dropping out to join an ashram in India. We quickly disabused her of that idea. By the time she went back to Morse McKinley in her sophomore year, she had forgotten about it. But some time later, she called me and decided she was bisexual although she didn’t want to be labeled. Gender was a concept not a reality, she announced. I thought she was nuts. Either you’re male or female regardless of whom you have sex with.”

  “Sounds like she gave you a run for your money,” McAdams said.

  “If there was some kind of issue to be had, she would have it.” She gritted her teeth. Even in memory, the girl had gotten a rise out of her. “She didn’t call me that often. So I didn’t think anything of it when she hadn’t called in three, four days. It wasn’t until we got a phone call that we realized something was wrong.”

  “Did you suspect anyone at the colleges?” Decker asked.

  “So far as I know, everyone was cleared. But someone must have known what happened. You just don’t disappear off the face of the earth and no one knows anything.”

  Decker nodded, although sometimes that was exactly what happened. The disappearance was seven years ago. Everyone had graduated or moved on. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Jones. I was hoping I could speak to you at greater length, but I really need to get back.”

  “That’s fine. Thank you for coming out personally.”

  “Of course. Could you get me your daughter’s files?”

  “Oh, right. Hold on. It’ll take me a minute.”

  After she left the room, McAdams whispered, “Noticing a pattern? Disaffected kids with strained relationships with their parents?”

  “Makes them vulnerable.” Decker was thinking out loud. “More susceptible to bad people.”

  “Especially charming psychopaths.”

  “Yeah. College kids have underdeveloped radars for danger.”

  “That wasn’t me.” McAdams smiled. “I was always a suspicious guy. Traits that make you steer clear of bad people, but don’t do much for making you popular.”

  “Yeah, you pretty much steer clear of everyone.”

  “I have an almost girlfriend. Mallon adores me.”

  “Mallon is three thousand miles away.”

  “Hence the qualifier almost.”

  Serena came back into the room carrying a box. “There’s a lot of material in here.”

  “I’ll take good care of it.” Decker relieved her of the files. “Even if we haven’t found your daughter, I’ll still take a look at the case. Fresh pair of eyes.”

  “Well, the bar certainly wasn’t set very high by your police department.” She sighed. “I’m sorry if I offended you. I know you’re trying to help.”

  “You’re angry at the lack of progress. I’d be angry too.”

  A tear leaked from her eye. “I waver between grief and anger.” She looked up. “You want to know the truth? I also have a tremendous amount of guilt. Not because of what happened. There was nothing I could have done to prevent what happened. I wasn’t there.”

  A pause.

  “Yvette caused a lot of drama. With her gone, it’s so . . . quiet. And sometimes, that’s a relief.” She wiped her wet eyes. “Do you think I’m terrible?”

  “Not at all. I know you loved your daughter. What you’ve gone through . . . what you’re still going through is completely overwhelming and you’re certainly entitled to your emotions.”

  “That’s nice of you to say.” She took a Kleenex and wiped her eyes. “It would really help if I knew something. And it would be nice if I could bury my little girl!”

  “I promise I’ll do my best.” Decker stood up with the file box and the envelope with the X-rays. He handed her his card. “Feel free to call me anytime.”

  “Thank you.” She escorted them to the door and managed a smile when she said good-bye.

  On the way to the car, Decker handed McAdams the box and the envelope. “When we get back, take the dental X-rays over to the pathologist and see if we get a match. After you do that, get me a list of sex offenders in the Greenbury area. If we are working with a serial killer, he might have done something lesser and worked his way up to murder.”

  “Right away, boss.”

  “Also, call up Karen at the station house and see if she can talk to . . . the friend of Delilah Occum.”

  “Emily Crowler.”

  “Yeah, her. If she’s still in Clarion, tell Karen to go by and have a chat. I’ll talk to the boyfriend, Cameron Snowe.”

  “Who may not be a boyfriend.”

  “Right.”

  McAdams said, “Do you think they will have unearthed the remains?”

  “Hope so. We’ve got about three hours of travel time. After you’ve taken in the X-rays, start going through the material we have on Delilah and Yvette. See if you can tell me what was or wasn’t done.”

  “You may be stepping on toes. Radar was here when these girls went missing.”

  “Let me worry about the bruised egos, you just organize the files.”

  They got to the car. Decker took the driver’s seat. McAdams sat shotgun. “I’ll move to the back when we get Rina.”

  “That’s right. I have to pick up Rina.”

  “You forgot about your wife?”

  Decker smiled. “I would have remembered eventually.”

  “I’ll let her know that.” When Decker threw him a sneer, McAdams said, “Just kidding.” He rubbed his hands together. “Their murders happened years apart—Delilah and Yvette. And then there’s Pettigrew. What do you think? They were killed by someone they all knew or they were murdered by someone living in the area that chose them randomly?”

  Decker thought a moment. “Same burial ground, so it’s the same killer. And he didn’t kill all of them at the same time. Yvette and Delilah are too far apart. Were there any other university students who went missing?”

  “Not from the Five Colleges—unless you want me to go back more than twenty years.”

  “Do you have a list that goes back twenty years of people who went missing?”

  “In the trunk of the car.”

  Decker thought a moment. “What about that girl who went missing four years ago? Didn’t she work in Greenbury?”

  “I think she worked in Meridian. I’ve got the details in my backpack along with the names of other missing girls that we haven’t looked at. It’s all in the trunk of the car.”

  Decker pulled the car over to a street curb. “Go get the list.”

  “Yes, sir.” McAdams got out, rummaged in the trunk for the list, came back, and closed the car door. They took off. “The girl worked in Greenbury at a convenience store that bordered Meridian: the Circle M Mart.”

  “The one right off the highway.”

  “Correct. She disappeared around four years ago. Erin Young. And she wasn’t a girl. She was thirty.”

  “Okay. Who else should I be looking at?”

  “Twelve years ago: Margo Marino. She went to Hamilton Community College. She was nineteen when she disappeared. Thirteen years ago: Jaclyn Ungero. She vanished from Pace in the middle of her sophomore year.”

  “Pace?”

  “It’s a tiny liberal arts college about forty miles southwest of Greenbury. The next college student I have after Jaclyn was . . . this was seventeen years ago—Rhonda Burns. She grew up about fifty miles north of Greenbury. She went missing from SUNY Purchase. How far back do you want to go, boss?”

  “Couldn’t tell you right now, Harvard. It depends on how many bodies we find.”

  Chapter 14

  They started out at one in the afternoon for the three-hour drive back to Greenbury. Ordinarily, because it was Friday, they would have spent the weekend with Cindy, Koby, and the boys. That meant Rina hadn’t prepared for the Sabbath. But there was food in the freezer and with any luck, she’d be able to warm it up and set a nice table before it was time to light candles. Peter seemed
to sense her thoughts.

  Decker said, “We’re making good time. We should be there at least a couple of hours before sunset.”

  “I’m fine. Worst comes to worst, I’ll open up a can of tuna and a bag of potato chips and we can all pretend we’re in grade school again.”

  “I, for one, like canned tuna,” McAdams said. “It’s one of those much maligned food products that’s actually pretty good.”

  “Simplicity is your middle name,” Decker said.

  “Someone is grumpy.”

  “Someone is right here. And yes, I’m a little preoccupied. Three sets of bones and counting. Of course, I’m upset.”

  “And to think that Bogat Trail used to be one of my favorite walking spots.” Rina took out a can of soda water. “It’s so violating. I don’t think I’ll feel safe on any trail for a while.”

  “Get a dog,” McAdams said.

  “Talk to the boss,” Rina said. “I’ve been trying for a year and he has yet to budge.”

  Decker said, “Are you really keen about getting up in zero-degree weather for a walk?”

  “And to that I answer, we can always lay down a patch of sod in the sunroom.”

  “No, we’re not going to do that. It smells after a while.”

  “We can change it out,” Rina answered.

  “Where do you get sod in the dead of winter on the East Coast?”

  “You import it from places that grow sod. It’s not a hard thing. And by the way, I spoke to the insulation guy. He can do the entire job including adding a freestanding radiator and new double-hung windows for about ten grand. I think it’s worth it—sod or no sod.”

  “Probably,” Decker concurred. “But no sod.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  “I thought you didn’t want any more pets.”

  “Sometimes a gal gets lonely.”

  “I’m home most of the time by five and you work. What are we going to do with the dog while you’re working?”

  McAdams said, “Greenbury Police Department is pet friendly. Karen brings her poodle to work all the time.”

  “You’re not helping.”

  “Yes, I am. It’s just that I’m on her side.”