Chapter 47

HOLLY CAME SLOWLY out of sleep, but being awake wasn’t much different. She wondered if he was giving her something to make her sleep; she seemed to be doing an awful lot of it. Not that she had anything else to do.

He was giving her precious little sensory input. He came in four or five times a day, she thought. He emptied her, fed her another candy bar and gave her water. Maybe something in the water? She certainly had not felt wide awake since the first day. How many days was it? Two? Three? Four? She couldn’t tell. The tape over her eyes kept her from knowing whether it was day or night, and the ear plugs muffled most sound.

He didn’t seem interested in sex; he hadn’t touched her in any way, except to pull her clothing down for the bedpan. He hadn’t found her gun, either, since the sweatshirt covered it, even when she was using the bedpan. If she could just get a hand free. She tried again, but it only hurt worse. Her wrists felt bruised and chafed from trying to get loose.

Why would he keep her, hour after hour, day after day? What use would he make of her? If he wanted her dead, she’d already be dead; if he wanted sex, she’d have already been raped. It didn’t make any sense at all. She yawned and dozed off again.

LANCE CAME OUT OF Dick’s little office with a sheet of paper. “The FBI has come to life,” he said. “They’ve given us a profile, done by their experts.”

Sergeant Young, who had seemed almost asleep, came to life. “I want to hear this.”

“He’s between twenty-five and forty,” Lance read, “lives with his mother, is employed as a skilled laborer or as a white-collar worker with considerable responsibility. His father is dead or was divorced from his mother when he was a child. He’s uncomfortable around women, especially those who dress in an overtly sexual manner. People who know him think of him as quiet and pleasant. He’s not married, nor does he have a regular sex life.”

“The dress code doesn’t sound like any of our victims,” Young said, “except Janey Harris, who wore the kind of clothes teenaged girls wear these days: you know, bare bellies almost to the crotch, tight T-shirts, that sort of thing. It certainly doesn’t fit the two housewives.”

“It doesn’t fit Holly, either,” Stone said. “Any more of the profile?”

Lance shook his head. “They make the usual disclaimers about the accuracy of the profile, and they say they need more to go on.”

“I wish to God we could give it to them,” Sergeant Young said.

They all sat quietly for a few minutes.

“Anybody want to go for a boat ride?” Stone asked.

“What?” Dino said.

“I’m going to take the picnic boat and circumnavigate the island, while there’s still plenty of daylight.”

Sergeant Young stood up. “I’d better get back to the land search; I’m not doing any good here.”

“Ham, do you want to come?” Stone asked.

Ham shook his head. “I want to stay here in case Holly turns up, and Ginny is still working on Esme’s diary.”

“Grab a jacket, Dino,” Stone said. “It’ll be chillier on the water.”

They met on the dock, and Stone started the engine. “Will you cast us off?” he said to Dino.

Dino undid the bow, stern and spring lines, then pushed them away from the dock and jumped on board.

“We’ve got to get you some Topsiders,” Stone said.

“Huh?”

“Wingtips don’t cut it on a boat.” Stone switched on the GPS plotter and let it warm up. A few seconds later, an image of Islesboro appeared on the screen.

“Hey, that’s neat,” Dino said.

Stone played with the image. “Yes, and you can zoom in and out, too.” He dug out a paper chart from below and studied it.

“Can we get moving?” Dino asked.

“I just want to take a look at possible hazards,” Stone said. “Maine is a rocky place.”

“Good idea.”

Fifteen minutes later they were under way. They passed the yacht club, which seemed mostly deserted.

“Where is everybody?” Dino asked.

“A lot of people have left the island,” Stone said, “and Sergeant Young says a lot of those still here are staying home until this thing is resolved.” Stone was staying close to shore, looking intently at the water.

“You looking for rocks?” Dino asked.

“No,” Stone replied.

“Oh.”

Stone continued to watch the water as they made their way toward the southern tip of the island. He hoped to God he didn’t find what he was looking for. He zipped up his jacket against the breeze.

“Besides that, what should we be looking for?” Dino asked.

“Look for places ashore where she might be hidden,” Stone replied.

“She could be hidden in any house on the island,” Dino said.

“Most of the houses are occupied by families who are spending the summer here. Look for other outbuildings-barns, sheds, that sort of thing. If we find something that looks promising, we can always get Young and his people to go search it.”

Dino looked intently toward the shore. “We’re grasping at straws,” he said.

“I know,” Stone replied. “But I don’t know what else to do.”

Chapter 48

STONE AND DINO ARRIVED back at the dock, tired and cold, a little after seven o’clock. They put out bumpers and made the picnic boat fast, then went into the house. Everybody was sitting around looking disconsolate.

Lance got up and went into the little office, silently waving Stone to follow him.

“What’s up?” Stone asked.

“I’ve heard from our ex-Boston cop,” he said. “He found nothing new in Caleb Stone’s background, but something cropped up on his two sons, Eben and Enos. You remember, they had a sealed juvenile record.”

“Yes. Was he able to crack it?”

“He was. The twins were arrested when they were thirteen for torturing and killing small animals, neighborhood pets.”

“That’s a marker for later criminal behavior,” Stone said.

“Yes, but there hasn’t been any further criminal behavior. The boys got a year’s probation, the family moved to another neighborhood and it was over.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes. You asked me to check with the Yale campus police and the New Haven force.”

“Right. Anything turn up?”

“Same as before with the Yale cops: They’ve had no problems with the twins. Neither has New Haven.”

“But?”

“But, you were on the money about something else: There are four unsolved cases of kidnapping, rape and murder of women in New Haven over the past two years, none of them students. Three were townies, girls who hung out in local bars, and one was a young housewife.”

“Is there anything to connect them to the twins?”

“No, there’s nothing to connect them to anybody, so calling the twins suspects is a real stretch. You can’t accuse them of four murders because they harmed some animals when they were kids.”

Stone picked up the phone and called Sergeant Young’s cell phone.

“This is Young.”

“It’s Stone Barrington. You have a list, don’t you, of everybody who’s present on the island and those who have left?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Will you look up Caleb Stone’s family? I’d like to know where they all are.”

“Just a minute.”

Stone could hear papers being shuffled.

Young came back on the line. “Caleb Stone and his wife are at home on the island; his twin sons left five days ago to participate in a yacht race in Newport, Rhode Island.”

“Has the location of the twins been confirmed?”

“We confirmed that they took the ferry, but nothing after that.”

“Will you see if you can confirm their location for every day since they left the island?”

“And this is important why?”

“We’ve learned that the boys have a juvenile record for torturing animals.”

“That’s not good.”

“We’ve also learned that the City of New Haven has four unsolved murders of local women over the past two years. The boys are students at Yale.”