“And you kept the journals.”

“Insurance. I figured if they ever bothered me, I could use them as leverage.”

“What about Jared’s mother?”

“Lila tried to get a loan from the bank. She went to the bank and begged.” Her jaw tightened. “On her knees. She begged Rob Davis on her knees and he turned her down flat.”

“That had to have been humiliating for your mother-in-law.”

“You have no idea,” she said bitterly. “One of the tellers told everyone she’d seen Lila on her knees in front of Davis.” A hot flush spread across Annette’s cheeks. “The way Delia said it made it seem like Lila was doing something perverted. The very thought… Lila never even knew an act like that existed, much less considered doing it to Rob Davis.”

Daniel kept his face neutral, even though he’d tensed inside. “Delia?”

“Yeah,” Annette said with contempt. “Delia Anderson, that slut. Everyone knew she was having an affair with Rob Davis. She probably still is. And she had the nerve to spread that lie about Lila. Lila had a bad heart, and after that, everything went downhill. She had to sell everything, too. She had to pull Mack out of Bryson Academy and he was furious. He was wild. He scared me, even before I knew what Jared had done.”

Now the murders of both Sean and Delia made sense. “Mack was violent?”

“Oh, yes. Mack got into fights all the time, even before the bankruptcy. He never got in trouble. Somehow all the charges would just go away. I thought it was O’Brien money until I found out there wasn’t any left. When I found the journals, I knew. All the others had been supporting Jared, giving him enough money to get by, to stay one step ahead of the IRS and his creditors. They must’ve smoothed the way for Mack, too.”

“That makes sense. I would have come to the same conclusion.”

Her smile was sad. “Thank you. Most of the time when I thought about telling anyone, I thought they’d think I was crazy. That maybe I’d made it all up. And then…”

“And then?”

“Then I’d pull the brick out just enough to prove to myself the journals were still there. And I’d know I wasn’t crazy.”

“When was the last time you pulled out the brick?”

“The day they dug up your brother’s grave and found someone else buried there I thought, ‘Now I should tell. Somebody will believe me.’ ”

“Why didn’t you?” he asked gently.

“Because I’m a coward. I kept hoping one of you guys would figure it all out. That you’d come and make me tell and that I could tell myself I had no choice. And because I didn’t tell, all those girls are dead.” She looked up, her eyes bright with tears. “I have to live with that for the rest of my life. I don’t think you have any idea how that feels.”

You’d be surprised. “You’re telling me now. That’s the important thing.”

She blinked, sending the tears down her face, and she wiped them away. “I’ll testify.”

“Thank you. Mrs. O’Brien, do you know about any keys?”

“Yes. Simon took pictures of all of the attacks. If one told, they’d all go down, and the pictures kept everyone ‘honest.’ Simon kept the pictures as insurance. He never did any of the rapes, he just took the pictures.”

“So what about the keys?”

“Simon kept the pictures in a safe-deposit box at the bank. It was a special box that needed two keys. Simon had one and everyone else had copies of the other. That way it balanced the power. When Simon died the first time, Jared was terrified it would all come out, but time passed and no key was found. Why, do you have it now?”

He let the question pass and asked one of his own. “Did you find Jared’s key?”

“No, but he did have a picture of it in the journal. A drawing, like he’d traced it.”

“Did Jared say under which name the safe-deposit box was listed?” he asked, and held his breath until she nodded.

“Charles Wayne Bundy. I remember being horrified. And I remember thinking that would be an important detail to keep inside my head in case I ever got pressed to tell. That maybe that would buy protection for my children. But you’ve already promised me that, so… there you are.”

Charles Manson. John Wayne Gacy. And Ted Bundy. It all fit. Simon had had a fascination with serial killers as a teenager, copying their art. Susannah had been the one to find the art he’d hidden under his bed all those years ago. This was gold. If Simon had taken incriminating photos of the rapists to ensure their compliance, Daniel would have all the proof he needed once he got the contents of that box.

“Do you have any idea of where Mack might hide?”

“If I did, I’d tell you. I know he’s not in his old house. It was torn down while he was in prison.”

Daniel raised his brows. “Why?”

“Someone broke in and ripped everything up. The walls, the floors. What was left wasn’t worth saving.”

Daniel thought of Alex’s bungalow. “They were looking for the key.”

“Probably. Rob Davis benefited. After the house was gone, he bought the land dirt cheap and put in a warehouse for the mill. I can’t see Mack hiding there. It’s used daily.”

He’d check it out anyway. They had to find Mack O’Brien before he killed again. And he was a warrant away from identifying the final member of Simon’s club. Charles Wayne Bundy’s safe-deposit box awaits.

“Thank you, Mrs. O’Brien. You’ve been more help than you know. Let’s go get your boys and we’ll get you someplace safe. We can send someone for your things.”

Annette nodded and followed him out the door, and she didn’t look back.

Chapter Twenty-three

Arcadia , Georgia , Friday, February 2, 11:35 a.m.

It fits,” Luke said over the speakerphone in Chase’s office.

Daniel was on the phone in Sheriff Corchran’s office, relating Annette O’Brien’s story while he waited for an agent to take her and her two sons to a safe house. “Now we just have to find him.”

“We revised the APB,” Chase said. “We got his parole file. He’s a lot bulkier now than he was when he went in.”

“They usually are,” Daniel said grimly. “He may also have changed his hair. While we were driving to Corchran’s office, Mrs. O’Brien remembered that a box of blond hair coloring she’d bought was missing.”

“I’ll update it again,” Luke said. “Here’s something else-Mack O’Brien was often put on roadside cleanup while he was in prison. He’d been on crews assigned to every one of the areas where he left the bodies.”

“We need to search the mill property-especially the new warehouse that was put up where the O’Briens’ house used to be.”

“I’ve already dispatched a team,” Chase said. “They’re going in as pest inspectors so we don’t raise the alarm too soon. What about a warrant for that safe-deposit box?”

“Chloe’s working on it. As soon as we’re done, I’m driving to Dutton so I can go right to the bank as soon as she gets it signed by the judge. What about Hatton?”

“He’s still in surgery,” Chase said. “Crighton’s lawyered up. Won’t talk to us.”

“Sonofabitch,” Daniel muttered. “I’d so like to get him for Kathy Tremaine.”

“After all this time…” Luke said, a shrug in his voice. “I don’t see it happening.”

“I know, but at least Alex could get some closure. Has she asked to see him yet?”

“No,” Chase said. “She hasn’t mentioned him at all. She’s pacing the floor over Hatton, but hasn’t asked word one about Crighton.”

Daniel sighed. “She will when she’s ready. I’m headed out to Dutton. I’ll call as soon as I get inside the box. Cross your fingers.”

Atlanta, Friday, February 2, 12:30 p.m.

Alex stood, pacing the short length of the outer office. “They should have called.”

“Surgery takes a while,” Leigh said calmly. “When Hatton’s out, they’ll call.”

Leigh’s face was calm, but her eyes were scared. Somehow that made Alex feel a little less alone. She’d opened her mouth to say as much when her cell phone trilled. It was a Cincinnati area code, but she didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”