Page 102 of The Fragile Ones
Darkness draped across the building as the day faded into dusk. Katie had to hurry. Her pulse was racing.
“Put your hands behind your back,” she said, stepping closer to him. “Easy.” She took her left hand and pulled handcuffs out of her pocket.
“You’re making a mistake. He’s still out there…he’s cunning…crafty…you won’t win against him. No oneeverdoes….”
Katie snapped the first handcuff to his wrist and then the other to a pipe in the room.
“You’re wrong, Detective.” His face was haunted, pale and seemed to contort.
“We’ll see. I’m playing it safe.” Katie didn’t know what to think. But once Mason was secured and couldn’t hurt anyone, she grabbed his gun and pocketed the weapon.
Katie knelt down to the little girl and spoke in a soft voice. “Hi, I’m Katie. I’m going to free you and get you out of here, okay?”
She slowly nodded, staring at Katie as though deciding whether to believe her or not.
“What’s your name?” Katie asked.
“Maggie,” she said weakly.
“Maggie is a beautiful name.”
“It’s short for Margaret.”
“How old are you, Maggie?”
“Five.”
“Okay, Maggie, we’re going to get out of here.”
“You won’t be able to escape,” said Mason. “You won’t! He won’t let you! Never!”
Katie holstered her weapon, glancing at the doorway. She had expected to see McGaven by now. She picked up Maggie and moved quickly, exiting the storage room and heading down the hallway to search for him. She took the staircase with caution, not wanting to fall or drop Maggie.
There was light coming in at the other end of the corridor from a window. Katie made her way there and peered out. There was an expensive white SUV parked outside. Staring at it for a long moment, accessing her memories, her thoughts then slowed. One of the last pieces of the puzzle seemed to fit. The walls skewed. Her heart skipped a beat.
Katie stumbled backward as the entire investigation flew through her mind—jumbled at first and then the pieces finally beginning to fit together—one by one. Everything. The film crew. The discovery of the Mayfield sisters. Robin Mayfield’s death. Darren Rodriguez’s shooting.
You know all about him. You can reach out and touch him.
She focused on the documentary DVDs from the Wild Oats Productions and everything came to her like a movie reel. Meeting the film crew. Driving to Rifle Ridge. The crime scene. So many images. An abundance of evidence.
Rock Creek…
Katie took in a breath and tried to keep her composure as she held Maggie tight. She felt the little girl shiver and her heart pound.
The killer had been right under her nose all along. More exact, he had sat right next to her in the Jeep on the ride up the mountain with the film crew. He had fiddled with a long necklace he wore with a type of charm. It was the exact necklace that Tessa Mayfield wore in her photograph, that had made the impression around her neck after she was strangled. The DVDs at Rodriguez’s house. The driver’s license photograph of Whitney Mayfield—if his hair was shorter, dyed blond with a clean-shaven face—it washim. The writer and researcher for the show. The man who scouted locations for each shot. He wanted to come back to where he had dumped the tiny bodies of his first victims—his daughters.
The call to the sheriff that one of the crew was missing was a ruse—he had laid a trap. It was him… He was in power. It was a perfect cover. Ty Windsor was Whitney Mayfield, not Officer Mason. It had to be him…
Katie turned back and ran as fast as she was able, carrying the girl. Maggie began to cry, sensing Katie’s stress.
“Katie!” yelled McGaven. He sounded far away. “Katie! He’s here…”
She turned the corner and taking the staircase as fast as she dared. Her legs were fatigued with the extra weight, and the sheer exhaustion of the investigation.
Heavy footsteps approached.
She was relieved that McGaven was close.
