Talladega Falls, Georgia
January 20
6:35 A.M.
The skeleton had been in the ground for a long time. Joe
Quinn had seen enough of them to recognize that. But how
long? He turned to Sheriff Bosworth. "Who found it?"
"Two hikers. They stumbled on it late last night. Those
rains the past few days washed it out of the ground. Hell,
that storm slid half the mountain into the falls. A real
gully washer." His gaze narrowed on Joe's face. "You must
have hotfooted up here from Atlanta as soon as you heard
about it."
"Yes."
"You think it's connected to one of the Atlanta PD's
cases?"
"Maybe." He paused. "No. This is an adult."
"You're looking for a kid?"
"Yes." Every day. Every night. Always. He shrugged. "The
initial report didn't say whether it was an adult or a
child."
Bosworth bristled. "So? I never have to make reports like
this. We're pretty crime free here. Not like Atlanta."
"You knew enough to recognize possible knife wounds to the
skeleton's rib cage. But I do admit our problems are a
little different. What's your population?"
"Don't come up here and slam me, Quinn. We've got a strong
law enforcement body. We don't need any city cops messing
around our jurisdiction."
He'd made a mistake, Joe thought wearily. He hadn't slept
in nearly twenty-four hours, but that was no excuse. It
was always an error to criticize local police even when
they were taking potshots at you. Bosworth was probably a
good cop, and he'd been polite until Joe cast aspersions
on how he did his job. "I'm sorry. No offense."
"I do take offense. You have no idea what our problems are
here. Do you know how many tourists wehave every year? And
how many get lost or hurt in these mountains? We may not
have murderers or drug dealers, but we take care of every
one of our citizens besides those tenderfeet who come up
from Atlanta and camp in our parks and fall down in gorges
and mess upβ"
"Okay, okay." Joe held up his hand in surrender. "I said I
was sorry. I didn't mean to downplay your problems. I
guess I'm a little jealous."
His gaze wandered out over the mountains and the falls.
Even with Bosworth's men climbing all over, taping and
scouring the area, it was still unbelievably
beautiful. "I'd like to live here. It would be nice to
wake up every morning to all this peace."
Bosworth was slightly appeased. "It's God's country. The
Indians used to call the falls 'the place of tumbling
moonlight.'" He scowled. "And we don't find skeletons like
this. This must be one of yours. Our people don't kill
each other and toss the bodies into the ground."
"Perhaps. It's a long way to transport a body. But in this
wilderness, it would be quite a while before a corpse is
discovered."
Bosworth nodded. "Hell, if it hadn't been for the rains
and the mud slide, we might not have found it for twenty,
thirty years."
"Who knows? It might be that long already. I'll get out of
your way. I'm sure your medical examiner will want to get
at the bones and examine them."
"We have a coroner. He's the local undertaker." Bosworth
added quickly, "But Pauley's always willing to ask for
help when he needs it."
"He'll need it. If I were you, I'd make a formal request
to our pathology department. They're usually willing to
cooperate."
"Could you do it for us?"
"I can't. I'll be glad to put in a word, but I'm here in
an unofficial capacity."
Bosworth frowned. "You didn't say that. You just flashed
your badge and started asking me questions." His eyes
suddenly widened. "My God, you're Quinn."
"It's no secret. I told you that."
"But I didn't make the connection. I've been hearing about
you for years. The skeleton man. Three years ago you were
over in Coweta County checking out two skeletons found
there. Then there was that body found in the swamps near
Valdosta. You were down there too. And that skeleton up
near Chattanooga that youβ"
"Word does get around, doesn't it?" Joe smiled
sardonically. "I'd think you'd have better things to talk
about. So? Do the stories make me some kind of urban
legend?"
"No, just a curiosity. You're looking for those kids,
aren't you? The ones Fraser killed and then refused to
tell where he'd buried them." He frowned. "That was almost
ten years ago. I'd think you'd give up."
"Their parents haven't given up. They want their children
home for proper burial." He looked down at the
skeleton. "Most victims belong to someone somewhere."
"Yeah." Bosworth shook his head. "Kids. I never understand
why anyone would kill a kid. It makes me sick."
"Me too."
"I've got three kids. I guess I'd feel the same way those
parents do. God, I hope I never find out." Bosworth was
silent a moment. "Those cases must have been closed when
Fraser was executed. It's mighty decent of you to keep
trying to find those children on your own time."
One child. Eve's child. "It's not decent. It's just
something I've got to do." He turned away. "Thanks for
putting up with me, Sheriff. Call me if I can act as
liaison between your coroner and the Atlanta PD."
"I'd appreciate that."
He started down the cliff and then stopped. To hell with
not offending another law officer. The sheriff was clearly
out of his depth, and by the time someone knowledgeable
came on the scene, it might be too late to save the
evidence. "Could I make a couple of suggestions?"
Bosworth stared at him warily.
"Get someone out here to photograph the body and entire
crime scene."
"I was going to do that."
"Do it now. I know your guys are doing their best to
locate evidence, but they're probably destroying more than
they're finding. A metal detector should be used in case
there's any evidence covered by the mud. And get a
forensic archaeologist to excavate the skeleton and an
entomologist to examine any dead insects or larvae. It's
probably too late for the entomologist, but you can never
tell."
"We don't have any of those people on our staff."
"You can hire them from a university. It may save you from
having egg on your face later."
Bosworth thought about it and then said slowly, "Maybe
I'll do that."
"It's up to you." Joe continued down the hill toward his
car parked on the gravel road below.
Another blank; it had been a long shot anyway. But he'd
had to check it out. He had to check them all out. Someday
he'd get lucky and find Bonnie. He had to find her. He had
no choice.
Bosworth stared after Quinn as he walked down the hill.
Not a bad guy. A little too cool and contained, but maybe
that went with dealing with those scumbags in the city.
Thank God, he didn't have any weirdos out here. Just good
people trying to lead a good life.
The skeleton man. He hadn't told the truth. Quinn was more
of a legend than a curiosity. He had once been an FBI
agent but had quit the Bureau after Fraser was executed.
He was now a detective with the Atlanta PD and supposedly
a good cop. Tough as nails and squeaky clean. These days
it was hard for city cops not to give in to temptation.
That was one of the reasons Bosworth stayed in Rabun
County. He never wanted to experience the cynicism and
disillusionment he had seen in Quinn's face. He couldn't
be forty yet, but he looked as if he had gone to hell and
back.
Bosworth glanced down at the skeleton. This was the kind
of thing Quinn faced on a daily basis. Hell, he even went
looking for it. Well, let him have it. Bosworth would be
glad to get rid of the skeleton. It wasn't fair for his
people to be drawn into this nastyβ
His walkie-talkie buzzed and he pressed the
button. "Bosworth."
"Quinn!"
Joe looked over his shoulder at Bosworth at the top of the
cliff. "What?"
"Come back up here. My deputy just radioed me that my men
on the far ridge have found more bodies." He
paused. "Well, skeletons."
Joe tensed. "How many?"
Bosworth's plump face had paled in the early morning
light, and he looked dazed. "Eight, so far. He thinks one
of them is a little kid."
They had found the Talladega bodies.
Dom turned off the television set and leaned back in his
chair to consider the ramifications.
As far as he knew, this was the first time any of his
kills had been discovered. He had always been very careful
and methodical, always going the extra mile. In this case
many extra miles. Those had all been Atlanta kills and he
had transported the bodies to what had been his favorite
graveyard then.
Now they had been found, not through diligent search but
by an accident of nature.
Or an act of God?
Any religious fanatic would say that God's hand had
uncovered those bodies to bring him to justice.
He smiled. Screw all those holier-than-thou fanatics. If
there was a God, he looked forward to taking him on. It
might be the challenge he needed just then.
The Talladega skeletons were little threat. By the time of
those murders, he had learned enough not to leave a hint
of evidence.
If there had been any mistakes, the rain and mud had
probably erased them.
He hadn't been as careful in the early days. The thrill
had been too intense, the fear too vivid. He'd even picked
his victims at random to make the kill more uncertain. He
was long past such foolishness. But he'd been so
methodical lately that the excitement was dwindling. If
the excitement went away, then so did his reason for
living.
He quickly blocked the thought. He'd gone through this
before. He just had to remember that the satisfaction came
from the kill itself. Everything else was a plus. If he
needed a challenge he'd choose someone harder, someone
with ties, someone who was loved and would be missed.
As for the discovery at Talladega, he must look on it only
as an interesting development, something to watch with
amusement and curiosity as the law struggled to put
together the pieces.
Who had been the kills at Talladega? He vaguely remembered
a blond prostitute, a homeless black man, a teenager
selling his body on the streets...and the little girl.
Funny, but until that moment he'd completely forgotten
about the little girl.
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