“You—”
“Crazy old man? Casey is right. You really must find new tracks. I could teach you fresh insults. I know many. I might also suggest therapy, but the only person here who could help with that is Isabel, and you burned that bridge spectacularly. You could not even whore properly.”
I bristle, but he cuts me off with, “Yes, yes, that was uncalled for. Run along, Jennifer. You have taken up enough of Casey’s time. She is very important, you know. Even I like talking to her. She is a special young woman.”
Jen scowls at me and stomps off.
“That was a little heavy-handed, don’t you think?” I say, switching to French.
“Jennifer is always heavy-handed.”
“I mean your parting shot.”
He smiles. “Oh, I couldn’t resist. Did you ever see The Brady Bunch?”
“Before my time.”
“Naturally. Well, there were three girls, and the middle one thought her older sister got everything—all the attention, all the praise, all the advantages. Marcia, Marcia, Marcia. That’s Jennifer. Casey, Casey, Casey. The cry of the chronically dissatisfied. Our Jen has always been an equal-opportunity misanthrope, but in you, she’s found something special. You must remind her of someone she hated as a child.”
“Great.”
“Or it’s a secret crush.”
“Let’s stick with memories of hatred past.”
I glance toward the road, and he waves for me to continue and falls in at my side, saying, “So you suspect Our Lady of Captivity may have put herself in that hole? Colluded with someone, that is. To actually place herself in a hole without food and water for a year is impossible.” He takes a few more steps. “Unless … did you say there was a rope?”
“At the top, yes.”
“Which she could have thrown up there when she heard you coming.”
“Uh, no. Impossible and stupid.”
“I accept impossible. There is no such thing as too stupid. Still, to go to such physical lengths to fake an abduction would require remarkable willpower and a truly perverse psychological profile. Dare I ask what her motivation might be?”
When I don’t answer, he notices the direction I’m heading and says, “You’re going to ask Isabel? No, my dear, that won’t help. Isabel counseled those who had temporarily lost their way. I studied those who’d voluntarily left the path and saw no reason to return.”
I don’t correct his presumption on where I’m going and why. Instead, I say, “You know, I would totally ask for your help … if you weren’t so out of practice. And if you hadn’t promised to assess her and then ducked out of actually doing so.”
“I have ducked nothing. I am circling the situation. Assessing from afar and gaining all the facts before I proceed. It is how I have always worked.”
“Maybe, but I also wanted your medical opinion, and I still haven’t gotten it.”
“I will see her tomorrow morning.”
“Good. Get Isabel to take you. Eric and I need to check out the crime scene and look for Shawn Sutherland.”
“That is a waste of time. On both counts. Her captor will have cleared the scene by now, and Mr. Sutherland is long gone, likely in the euphemistic sense, given the weather conditions.”
“Even if we’re only looking for a body, that will provide closure.”
Mathias gives me a look. “The only ‘closure’ anyone ever truly wants is a miracle, the missing person found alive. Calling it ‘closure’ is a defense mechanism for grieving loved ones, who fear they will look foolish admitting they still hope for that miracle.”
“Sure, that’s what families hope for, but at least a body gives them a chance—”
“To grieve? They’ve been doing that since the victim disappeared.”
“I was going to say a chance for justice. To see the killer caught and punished.”
“Good. If you had told me that the point of catching the killer was rehabilitation, I’d have been terribly disappointed in you.”
I shake my head. “As for Sutherland, waste of time or not, we’re going out tomorrow.”
“To find his body and punish his killer? I don’t believe you can incarcerate Mother Nature. Or does this mean you have reason to believe you will find Mr. Sutherland dead, and not from exposure to the elements?”
“Please assess Nicole tomorrow morning, Mathias. I’ll get your report when I return.”
* * *
I knock on Val’s door. After a moment, the blackout blinds ripple. Then I hear footsteps, and the door opens.
“I just wanted to let you know I read the council’s report,” I say. “And I confronted Nicole. It’s all true.”
She nods, obviously relieved. “All right, then. So she orchestrated her own capture, and we don’t have some madman—”
“No,” I say. “I mean what they claimed she did down south is true. She fully admits it. But staging her own kidnapping a second time? To what purpose? And for a full year? How much sense does that make to you?”
In anything else, I would expect Val to leap to the council’s defense. But I remember how she gave me those notes, her expression, her shaking hands. That’s why I’m here. To get her reaction.
She says nothing. Not a single word.
Which tells me everything.
“It doesn’t make sense, and we both know it,” I say. “You asked whether I believe Nicole’s story? I do. Completely.”