Wolfe smiled at her and then turned back to Jenna. “This strongly indicates the burns happened during a thaw cycle. The bodies had started to thaw and the killer used dry ice to re-freeze them. Perhaps he wanted to move them to another area. The burns are consistent with the result of dry ice on uncovered decomposing flesh.”
“Ah, that informatio
n is gold.” Kane peered through the glass at him. “If this is The Sculptor, we have just discovered how he moves his victims interstate.”
“Well, the information we have would indicate he was moving the bodies. Why else use the dry ice, a chest freezer would work better?” Wolfe leaned against the counter and looked at them. “If he’s been killing all over, it would make sense why these women aren’t showing up on any missing persons files in Montana. Of course, once I have the dental records or a DNA match, we’ll know if the victim is Evelyn Ross, out of Colorado Springs.”
“She fits the preferred type of The Sculptor and would make it two for two in Colorado Springs. The frozen woman in the lake was identified as Connie Sandford.” Kane’s gaze drifted over the body. “Both women are the same type as her. Dark hair, five-five, around twenty, and with ink. Add the freeze and thaw cycle in the majority of victims and it’s too much of a coincidence not to be him.”
“And we have a long-haul trucker waving a red flag at me.” Jenna had a satisfied expression. “I think we need to pay a visit to Claude Grady’s boss and find out where he’s been.”
Twenty-Two
“Hey, wake up.” A female voice dragged Zoe from a deep dreamless sleep.
She opened her eyes and a lightbulb hanging from a long cord in the middle of a darkened room went in and out of focus. Nauseous, she shut them again and sucked in a breath of stale, rank air. Where the hell had she slept last night and why did she feel as if she’d been eating sand? Her head throbbed as if she’d been drinking heavily. From the angry voice, she must have fallen asleep in somebody’s spot. It had happened before and she didn’t intend to cower to anyone. On the streets and homeless, she had gotten used to defending herself. Sliding one hand down to her leg, she fumbled for the blade strapped to her ankle and came up empty. Realization, that she wasn’t wearing her jeans or boots slammed into her. She opened her eyes, slowly peering through the lashes at the dark-haired young woman looking down at her. Forcing words from her parched throat, she tried to sit up but the room spun and she fell back into the pillows. “Where the hell am I?” The croaky voice coming from her lips was unrecognizable. Taking it slowly, she eased into a sitting position and peered under the covers. “Where are my clothes?”
“I don’t know, mine are missing too. I’m Ava and I don’t have a clue where we are, but we’re locked in a cellar. Here, drink this, it will help.” Ava thrust a glass of water into her hands and sat on the bed next to her. “I woke up and you were here. Did Preacher bring you?”
I’m locked in a cellar? Zoe’s heart pounded but she needed to evaluate the situation. She sipped and looked around the room. Beds, tables, and chairs—it resembled a survival shelter. The cool fresh water slid down her dry throat in a calming balm. “I’m Zoe, I don’t know anyone by the name of Preacher. The last thing I remember was getting a ride into Black Rock Falls with a biker.”
“Did he tell you he had a place for you to stay for the night?” Ava picked at her nails. “Tall, lean, muscular, with a soft voice?”
It was as if a wall in her head had blocked the memories. Zoe allowed the images of the two men she’d met previously to percolate into her mind. Not the trucker but maybe the biker was Preacher. “Yeah, he did. I guess that description fits the biker but for some reason, I can’t remember what happened after we got into town.”
“I’m sure Preacher, the guy keeping us here, uses a date-rape drug. That’s why you can’t remember what happened.” Ava gave her a solemn look. “I don’t sleep much, I’ve been too scared to shut my eyes but last night after dinner, I fell asleep and woke up this morning without my clothes.”
Panic gripped Zoe and the glass tumbled from her fingers but it didn’t smash, it bounced across the floor. “Are we his sex slaves?”
“He hasn’t touched me yet.” Ava pushed her hair into a ponytail and secured it with a band from around her wrist. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been here a few days. It’s hard to tell. I think he drugs our food when he wants to come down here. Preacher hasn’t threatened me at all. He supplies clean clothing and three meals a day but won’t say why he’s keeping me prisoner.”
The hairs on the back of Zoe’s neck prickled in a warning. She’d read about men like this man, Preacher. She turned to look at Ava and wondered just how naive she was. “Haven’t you heard about men kidnapping women and selling them to the highest bidder?” She looked into Ava’s eyes. “To him it’s not about using us for sex—” she held up her hand and rubbed her thumb on the pad of her first finger in a circular motion “—it’s about money.” She shuddered. “If he undressed us, how do we know he didn’t film us or pose us for photographs? If he did, he’d likely post them on his secret club page and wait for the highest bid.”
“You think?” Ava chewed on her fingernails.
Zoe slipped out of bed, testing her balance before moving around the room. “Have you tried to escape?”
“Of course I have.” A flash of annoyance crossed Ava’s face. “There’s no way out. The door at the top of the steps is locked and would be hard to force because it opens inward.” She sighed. “There’s nothing in here to use as a weapon, food comes on paper plates with plastic utensils, the glasses are plastic, same with the cups. All the chairs are bolted to the floor.”
Zoe squared her shoulders and turned to face her. “I don’t give up too easy. Give me five minutes to get my head on and we’ll work on a solution.” She glanced around. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“Over there.” Ava went to a closet and threw open the doors to reveal a rack of clothes and shelves containing underwear. Below sat a neat row of boots of various design and sizes. “Grab something to wear. There are toiletries in the bathroom. Don’t be too long, I’d say he was waiting for you to wake up before he feeds us and I’m famished.”
Zoe took a few seconds to look at Ava. If she’d only been here a few days, why was she already showing the resignation of Stockholm Syndrome. She’d soon have her snapping out of that and she’d start over breakfast. Heading to the bathroom, she took in the structure of the cellar and nodded to herself. There is always a way out.
Twenty-Three
Snowflakes piled up on the windowsills as Jenna glanced out the window, hoping they’d make it home this afternoon before another blizzard hit the town. She glanced at the clock and calculated what she needed to do for the rest of the day. Waiting for a positive ID of the snowman victim, slowed the investigation but she had plenty of time to follow up with Jim Foxx, the owner of the trucking company, before the snowplow made its last trip of the day from town at five-thirty. As it went right past her front gate it would sure make life easier. In fact, if they gave the driver a call and followed the snowplow home, all she had to do was open the gate and her friendly neighbor would cut a path straight to her front door.
She tried the office and a recorded message gave her a list of numbers of people to contact. She called Mr. Foxx and he answered on the third ring. “Mr. Fox this is Sheriff Alton, I wonder if you could give me some information on a couple of your drivers?”
“I’m not inclined to give out such information, Sheriff. Privacy laws and all that.” Foxx sounded defensive.
Jenna pulled a face. “Ah, well one of the men in question has already admitted working for you and where he went on his last trip, but as I’m conducting an investigation, I would appreciate your assistance.” She cleared her throat at the stony silence at the other end of the line. “The man in question is Claude Grady. He stated he made a trip to Colorado recently with a man by the name of Josiah Brock. Could you confirm that please?”
“Okay, this question is easy. You already know Grady went to Colorado last trip. Josiah Brock no longer works for me. I believe he’s working out of Blackwater. My competitor, Blackwater Trucking, came by here offering my drivers more than I could pay them and I lost a few good men.”
Jenna made a few notes. “Did Brock ever ride with Grady?”