This time it was Candy Lewiston who had come to see her.
Even as a ghost, Candy was rivetingly beautiful. Shed come to the house through the Underground Railroad during the Civil War. Her heritage was mixedAfrican-American, European and Native American. She had large, dark eyes, her cheekbones were perfectly sculpted and she moved with effortless grace. Ghosts could appear to float, yes, but Candy moved as if she were still flesh and blood, graceful and lithe beyond measure.
She knew the good and the bad of history. As a child, shed had a gentle master whod been happy to spend time with his slaves, attend baptisms of their children and be as generous as a father. At his death shed found herself the property of a new master; she said he was the cruelest man to ever walk the earth. The daughter of her first ownerwhod been forced to sell the slaveshad actually helped Candy escape, and in their friendship, theyd both realized how wrong it was for any man or woman to own any other.
Theyd ended up living at the cottage down from Irvings Sunnyside, and while Sarah JaneCandys friendhad gone on after death, Candy had lingered. But that was because shed fallen in love with one of the few Confederate soldiers whod died here, brought north to be cared for by his brother, who had chosen to fight for the Union.
Colonel Daniel Parker remained in the house, as well. He and Candy were together in death as theyd never been in life.
Candy paused long enough to give Rollo a spectral pat. Rollo knew she was there. His tail thumped on the floor. Smiling, Candy perched on the desk and looked at Mo. What happened? What did you and Rollo find?
Mo sighed and gave up on work, leaning back in her chair. A mans head without a body, a womans body without a head, the mans bodyand the womans head.
Candy stared at her in dismay. How awful! Do they know, was it the politician from New York they were looking for?
Mo nodded gravely. And its not...its not just that he was dead. He was murdered. Horribly. She went on to tell Candy about the morningabout everything theyd discovered.
Candy shuddered. And with the village and all of Tarrytown bustling with our October visitors...that makes it even worse. I hope they find the murderer quickly.
Lieutenant Purbeck is running the investigation. At least, I think he is. An FBI man showed up, too, Mo said.
Federal Bureau of Investigation, Candy said. She might be a ghost, but she loved watching as time went by, even thoughas shed often told Motime didnt always go by so well. Wars went on; people just didnt seem to learn. Candy and her beloved Daniel Parker liked walking the grounds along the riverand keeping up with history as it passed.
Well, Mr. Highsmith was an important man, Candy said knowingly.
Yes, very, Mo agreed.
And this FBI man, he seems to be capable and good? Candy asked.
Mo thought about her answer. Then she nodded. He was serious and seemed to understand that...that Rollo knew what he was after when we found a body that wasnt the right body, she said. Actually, shed liked the man immediately. She wondered if shed been influenced by the fact he was very good-looking. Tall, dark, blue eyed, altogether striking. If he walked into a room, anyonemale or femalewould notice, even if he was in a typical dark suit. He wore the suit damned well. She remembered feeling stunned when shed fallen into his arms. Just for a split second, of course, but he had given her pause.
He looks capable, she said. He looks like he belongs on the cover of GQ, she thought.
Candy nodded. So, the police are investigating and the federal government is involved. What happened is devastatingunimaginable!but you have done what they asked you to do. Now let them handle it. I understand that you cant forget it. To suggest such a thing would be ridiculous. But let them do their work, and you concentrate on yours. Maybe you should take a vacation, leave this place until they find the killer.
I dont think I can.
And why not?
What if...?
What if what? Candy asked.
What if the killer isnt finished? Mo wondered aloud. The very possibility chilled her. What if it wasnt a political assassination? II cant leave now. Rollo and I might be needed again and if we are, theres always the hope that well find the next victim still alive. Before he kills himor her.
* * *
Heres what I have to tell you, Dr. Mortenson said, leaning against one of the gurneys at the morgue. The two bodies, when put back together, are definitely two people. Not more, in other words. Thank God. We still havent ascertained the identity of the woman, but were running fingerprints and searching out dental records.
How did they die? Aidan asked.
Mortenson frowned at him for a minute, as though to say, They were decapitated. Wasnt that perfectly clear?
But he quickly understood. He sighed. I wish I could tell you it was the clean sweep of a sword or one blow from a big ax. A quick death.
Aidans heart sank. He suddenly knew exactly what that expression meant. But it wasnt that way? he asked.
Behind him, Voorhaven sucked in his breath.
A hatchet job? Van Camp asked. His tone was rigid. Aidan liked Van Camp; he seemed to be a by-the-book detective, calm, collected, doing his job with dedication and competence. But he had retained empathy for victims.
He was probably better suited for this job than Aidan. Because, like it or not, Aidan knew he wasnt really calm, collected and by the book. He wasnt just empathetiche was involved.
Yes, but...thankfully, the victims were dead before their heads were removed.
How were they killed? Aidan asked bluntly.
Strangulation. Manual strangulation. That should help you. Of course, with the chop jobsorry about thatits difficult to get a complete picture. But I couldnt find ligature marks and there was heavy bruising around the neck. Now, the trauma couldve come from the, er, removal of the heads.
He paused. I worked in the city for years and saw just about every form of murder out there, although some sick bastard will always find a new twist. In my opinion, however, they were manually strangled, something that takes a significant amount of strength, especially considering the size of a man like Highsmith. The heads were removed afterward, probably for effect, for theatricalitybut that kind of theorizing belongs to you investigators. Im merely stating the obvious here.
Or what appears to be obvious, Aidan murmured.
Mortenson hiked up two bushy white brows. Yes, well, as I said, I leave theorizing to you gentlemen. He walked to one of the gurneys in the room. Both bodies had, mercifully, been covered with sheets.
Now Mortenson rolled back the first.
Aidan winced inwardly. He didnt want to see what was revealed. He had to.
Mortenson started with the female victim.
Female, between the ages of twenty-eight and thirty-five. Approximately five foot seven in life, 135 pounds. In excellent shape and health, judging by the state of her heart and organs, muscles and bones. She was a blue-eyed blonde, no contacts, highlights in her hair. Weve done a computer mock-up of what she looked like before the tissue and muscle damage to the face. Were turning that over to the police now.
Mortenson glanced at his clipboard and his notes, then pulled out several sheets, handing them to Aidan, Van Camp and Voorhaven.
Aidan studied the womans face. She had nice bone structure, large eyes, a small nose and a pert chin. But there was no life in the image; he wasnt sure he would have recognized her even if hed known her.
What about her clothing? Van Camp asked.
Her personal effects are boxed and ready for you and the lab, Mortenson said. But due to the blood on the outfit and various fluids stiffening the fabric, I believe she was killed and then beheaded in the suit you saw on the body, under that big coat. Ive rushed everything, and the lab has, too.
Thanks, Aidan said.
Now, as to Mr. Highsmith... Mortenson began.
Aidan felt his muscles tighten. He steeled himself not to flinch, not to show emotion. He didnt want to be hauled off the case.
Mortenson rolled the sheet back.
And there was Richard, the head placed where it should have been but showing not just the trauma of death, but of autopsy, too. He was almost unrecognizable.
Mortenson was all business, his gloved hands showing what his medical eye saw as he pointed out the bruising caused by the strangulation that had ended Highsmiths life.
Aidan stared at the corpse on the gurney. Richard Highsmith looked like something created by a master of bizarre special effects.
Mortensons voice droned on and on, until finally the sheet was drawn back over Richard.
Ill keep you posted, Dr. Mortenson said. But Im not sure what else Ill be able to tell you.
Toxicology reports, Aidan said. He was quiet for a minute. The timing here seems to be virtually impossible. Richard was seen, then he disappearedbut he wasnt put on the headless horseman until the very early hours of the morning. Whoever killed him must have gotten him out of the convention center and held him somewheredead or alive.
Well, we need to find the crime scenes, too, Mortenson responded. Both victims were dead when they were beheaded, but youre still going to have blood somewhere.
Aidan nodded, then indicated the bags of clothing and personal effects. Wallet, cash, ID? He already knew they were there; hed checked before the medical examiner had taken Richards body from the vault.
Yes. Of course, Im not a detective, but...no robbery. He had about a hundred in cash on him, several credit cards and his New York State drivers license.
No cell phone? Aidan asked. It didnt show up in a secret pocket or anything?
Mortenson shook his head. No cell phone.
Purbeck was going to get a fix on its last location, Van Camp murmured.
Itll be the convention center, Aidan said. If this killer is a psychopath, hes a smart one.
Call us, Voorhaven said, if you get anything, anything at all.
We need an ID on Jane Doe as soon as possible, Van Camp pointed out.
Im on it. Like I said, Ive done dental impressions and taken her fingerprints. Swabbed her for DNA, but of course, we have to have something for comparison, Mortenson said.
Has the image of the young woman you showed us been made public? Aidan asked.
Definitely, Mortenson said. Its been shown on the media. Uniforms are putting pictures up all over the city now.
Aidan left, followed by Voorhaven and Van Camp. On to the strip club? Voorhaven guessed.
I want to head over to the convention center to meet the assistant first, Aidan said.
You never met him?
No, I never had reason to, and its been a while since Ive seen Richard.
Van Camp shrugged. We questioned everyone. We had police in there from the county helping out. We searched. We asked the assistant and Highsmiths people if theyd stay around another few days, and they were agreeable.
The Fed doesnt seem to think we did it right, Voorhaven said in a low, sarcastic voice.
Aidan didnt have to answer; Van Camp did it for him. Dont start with that crap, Jimmy. We have dead people here. Well give Mahoney our total cooperation. Maybe hell learn something more. Hes a pair of fresh eyes and we have new info, as in bodies, he said, turning to Aidan. Forgive the kid. Hes a good cop, but like I said, new to having a detectives badge.
Sure. Aidan shrugged We dont know what we have yet. Id still like to talk to Highsmiths assistant.
Sorry, yeah, Voorhaven muttered. We have dead people. I guess I think were supposed to resent federal intervention. And Lee is right. We need to stop this, whatever it takes.
We could split up, but I wouldnt mind an introduction to Mr. Branch, the assistant, Aidan said.
Of course, Voorhaven agreed.
Ill follow you, Aidan told them.
Van Camp nodded and led the way to the cars.
Aidan paused, looking back at the morgue.
Most of his life, hed hated it when he sawor imagined he sawwhat others didnt. He hated whatever it was that made him see the dead walking.
He often denied it, even to himself.
But right now...
His thoughts were different.
Talk to me again, my friend. Talk to me, please. Talk to me again.
3
Somehow, Mo managed to get work done during the day, although she did keep the television on and listened as the news repeated the mornings findings over and over again.
A police spokeswoman was shown frequently, assuring the public that all local resources, the state police and the FBI had been called in, and a task force was investigating. The killer would be pursued until caught. The public was warned, of course, to be careful when out; people should travel in groups and make sure they were carefully locked in at their homes or hotels.
Naturally, the press questioned the young woman about the possibility of a serial killer on the loose.
News media and the police constantly reinforced the fact that all investigative paths were being followed.
Mo jumped when Rollo began to bark excitedly. There was a knock at her door and she froze. But Rollo was wagging his tail, so he knew her visitor.
Who is it, boy? she asked.
At the same time, her cell phone rang.
She picked it up. Hello?
Mo, where are you? Let me in!
It was Grace Van Mullen, a close friend. Grace had grown up here, and throughout the years, the two of them had stayed friends, meeting whenever Mo and her family came in from the city. As an only child, Mo had always valued her friends, none more than Grace.
These days Grace was often her sounding board. She worked for a tourist company and during the Halloween season that included taking on the role of a character at the Haunted Mausoleum. There was actually more than one mausoleum at this particular tourist attraction, as well as a scattering of graves. They were situated on a property that had long been forgotten and lay in the middle of what was once a farm. The farm and the old graveyard both belonged to Graces employer now.
When the season wasnt going on, there were still tours of the place, but they were more historical and factual in nature. From the end of September through the first days of November, however, it was a popular attraction. Like everything else in town, the burial ground on the property was decorated with the usualspiderwebs, fake rats, skeletons and, of course, a headless horseman. At Graces main place of employment, though, live actors took on the roles of historic personages, legendary beings and all kinds of ghastly and ghoulish creatures.