Страница 61 из 74
All the Pretty Girls
337
He was just in time. The pre-interview information was being given and the anchor, a sandy-haired man with round glasses, was giving some last-minute details.
“It’s believed that Ivy Ta
The screen split, and the image of an attractive, silver-haired man with Ray-Ban Orb sunglasses came onto the screen. The lenses of the sunglasses were polarized, and they looked dark yellow under the studio lights. He looked more like a Hollywood actor than a grieving father. The man had his faded jean-clad legs crossed, an ankle across the opposite thigh, and Tony Lama brown suede cowboy boots peeked out from the overlong jeans. His shirt was snowy-white linen and his ta
“I can hear you fine.” The man’s voice was booming, commanding, and the anchor smiled. It would be a strong interview.
“Mr. Clark,” the anchor continued, “we understand that you believe your daughter has been taken by the Southern Strangler. Can you tell us what information you have been given that has led you to draw this conclusion?”
“My little girl is missing, and I want to plead with whoever took her to please let me have her back. I’ll be 338
J.T. Ellison
posting a hundred-thousand-dollar reward for any information leading to her safe return. She’s such a sweet girl, she never hurt anyone. Please, please, just let her go.” His head dropped into his hand and his shoulders started to shake. A small arm appeared from his left and the camera pulled back to show a young girl comforting Clark. The alleged best friend, of course. The girl looked young, younger than Ivy Clark’s age of twenty-one, but the cameras could be deceiving when it came to youth. She could have been twelve or thirty as far as Baldwin knew. The way she touched Ta
“Yes, I’m Serene Simone.” She had a slight accent that Baldwin wanted to say was French but he could not be absolutely sure. “I am Ivy’s best friend. She is dear to me and I want to echo Mr. Clark’s sentiment. We just want Ivy back home safe and sound.”
“Can you tell us a little more about Ivy, please, Miss Simone?”
As she began to speak, the montage started again. Ivy Clark was a stu
339
sparkle of a small diamond in her right nostril. A photo of her in an open-backed dress showed a couple of tattoos on her shoulder, and another shot of her from the back showed some sort of tattoo on her lower back. Baldwin pulled the missing persons report to the front of the file and read a bit more. Chinese symbol on the inside of her right ankle, a small dragon on her bikini line, a rose on the top of her foot, a small butterfly on her right shoulder blade and more Chinese symbols on her lower back. They should not have any trouble identifying the body if the tattoos were intact. He looked at the screen again, muting out the honeyed words of Serene Simone and concentrating on Ivy’s face. The mischievous grin and the sparkle in her eyes got to him the most. This girl was so alive, too alive to possibly be dead. But Baldwin knew that was probably exactly what she was. Dead and gone, like all the others. They needed to catch Buckley. Damn, why hadn’t they gotten any more information on him?
The time for the segment was up; the anchor wrapped the interview quickly. “I’m sorry to have to cut you off, but we are out of time. Let’s see that emergency number again, producers. If you have any information on the whereabouts of Ivy Ta
The screen filled with an 800 number, one that Baldwin recognized as the FBI tip line. The number had generated hundreds of calls with leads that were going nowhere. It was time to make a change, to make something happen. A hundred thousand dollars might help. Of course, 340
J.T. Ellison
it might hurt, too, because they’d be inundated with tipsters dolling out bogus information. Baldwin looked down at the files in front of him. He went through the list again, covering Jake Buckley’s travel schedule for the past two months. The man had been on a junket, and had been in thirty cities in the past month. But the cities they needed to see him in figured prominently. Huntsville, Alabama; Baton Rouge, Louisiana; Jackson, Mississippi; back to Nashville. Then on to Noble, Georgia; Roanoke, Virginia; Asheville, North Carolina, then Louisville. He was scheduled for a break back in Nashville that would last for a week. Maybe he was done killing, maybe he wasn’t, but he was coming home, and home was where they’d hopefully find him. He was due back in Nashville last night. He had not arrived home, so the BOLO, Be on the Lookout, for his car had been issued, yet no one had reported seeing the car anywhere between Nashville and Louisville. It was time for Baldwin to talk with Qui
Forty-Three
He dug in the dirt like a carefree child, singing softly to himself under his breath.
“One little, two little, three little Indians…four little, five little, six little Indians… Don’t have the seventh or the eighth little Indian…but that’s okaaaaay for now!”
He spread the rich, loamy soil into the holes, then dusted off his hands and broke open a package of seeds he’d gotten at the local hardware store. Sprinkling the minute buds of life, he started to laugh. Pushing up daisies, literally. Really, he could be so fu
Forty-Four
Qui
She knew there was no way Jake Buckley had killed all those girls. Jake may be many things, a poltroon, an adulterer, a bad husband, yes, he was all of those. But he was not a killer, and when she got the phone call from John Baldwin at the FBI she had readily agreed to have All the Pretty Girls
343