All the pretty faces gra.., p.21
All the Pretty Faces (Graveyard Falls), page 21
“Don’t worry,” Josie said. “I learned my lesson with Linder. I’ll keep up my guard.”
He hated that that lunatic had stolen her innocence. Although at least now she was cautious and wouldn’t be fooled into trusting a killer.
Josie rushed inside the center, anxious to find Neesie. The last days of auditions were underway, and the crowd was thinning out, the actors who hadn’t received callbacks heading out of town.
Olive stood at the board posting another round of selections. Josie hurried toward her.
“I’ve been wondering where you were.” Olive consulted her notepad. “I’m down to three different candidates for Billy Linder. McCray fits the part better than the other two, but he still makes me uneasy.”
“Me, too.” Josie sighed. “Olive, have you seen Neesie Netherington?”
Olive’s brow furrowed. “No. I left a message for her to meet me for a second audition, but she didn’t show.”
A sick feeling climbed into the pit of Josie’s stomach. That didn’t sound like Neesie. Something bad must have happened to have kept her away.
Dane studied the police report on the murder of Easton’s former girlfriend, the coed at the photography school. Her name was Sherry Bagley. She was twenty-one, from Kentucky, and had come to California in hopes of pursuing her dream of acting.
She and Easton had dated for nine months. According to interviews of her friends, Sherry liked Eddie, but after a while, she said he was creepy, that he wanted to take pictures of her in odd places. He’d wanted her to pretend she was acting out a scene in a movie and let him photograph her.
More than one scene depicted murder.
When Sherry broke it off with Easton, he’d tried to win her back, but his constant attention bordered on stalking.
One night at a frat party, Sherry disappeared. Her girlfriend claimed that he came to see Sherry, but that she blew him off.
Eddie told police that he’d stayed at the party that night until midnight, that he’d had too much to drink and passed out in one of the upstairs bedrooms, but no one could verify his story.
Police questioned Eddie’s father about his childhood history, but his father praised Eddie for his artistic ability. According to Mr. Easton, Eddie was slightly antisocial as a child, but “artists often were.” He’d expected Eddie to follow in his footsteps and become a sculptor, and Eddie did carve wood figurines, including faces and raptors. When his father saw the photographs Eddie took of the birds, he agreed Eddie had a talent for photography.
Police questioned his father about the coed’s death, and he insisted that Eddie wouldn’t hurt a fly. That was the reason he’d volunteered at the nature preserve—he wanted to save injured creatures.
Of course, most fathers would defend their sons. If Eddie was a psychopath, he could easily fool someone with an act.
Had he escalated from carving wooden figurines to women’s faces?
Dane skimmed the names of the students questioned at the party, his pulse quickening when he found Silas Grimley’s name listed.
Grimley had only been fourteen at the time. Why was he at that party?
The man’s reaction to his last name had been odd—had he recognized the name Hamrick because he’d met Betsy?
His adrenaline spiked. Good God, this could be the connection he’d been looking for all along. He might finally get answers, get closure, save his mother.
Dane turned to the background information Peyton had sent on Grimley.
The man had lived with his father in the woods, where his father was a falconer. Due to abuse, he was removed from his father’s custody and placed in a foster group home. Eventually he’d been returned to his home, where he stayed until his father disappeared one night.
Police had found human blood in the cages where the man kept the birds as well as traces of both Silas’s blood and his father’s. They had questioned Silas about his father, but Silas claimed that he had been staying at the foster home, and that his father was often gone for days on hunting trips.
They had never located the man or found his body, so the case went cold. For all they knew, Grimley Sr. had abandoned Silas.
While at the group home, Silas volunteered at the nature preserve where his father’s falcons had been moved.
At sixteen, Silas had undergone extensive cosmetic work by a plastic surgeon. Apparently the housemother in the group home where he’d been placed had seen an article about a plastic surgeon who did pro bono work and contacted him. When he’d met Silas, he’d handled his case for free.
The surgeon’s name was Dr. Bryce Kirk.
Kirk might have more insight into Grimley.
Dane texted Peyton to check with the doctor. Some physicians required patients undergoing plastic surgery to see a therapist. Peyton could find out if Silas had.
A psych report on the man might shed insight on whether or not Grimley was a killer.
Josie fought panic when she couldn’t find Neesie. She just prayed the young woman was safe.
She headed down the hall, but Porter McCray stormed toward her. “You told that casting director not to hire me.”
Josie took a step back. “That’s not true.”
“Yes, you did.” He grabbed her arm and shoved her up against the wall. “I asked you to practice with me, to give me insight into Linder’s character, but you refused. You didn’t like me from the beginning.”
Josie stiffened, her pulse pounding. “Take your hands off me, Mr. McCray.”
“Do as she said.”
Josie breathed out in relief at the sound of Dane’s gruff voice.
McCray didn’t turn around, though. Instead, he squeezed her arm tighter, still in Linder persona. “You’ll be sorry for this.”
Dane yanked the man away from her, his look lethal. “Is that a threat?”
McCray glared at Josie, then shoved Dane and strode down the hall.
Josie was trembling as she watched him disappear. If she hadn’t thought he was dangerous before, she did now.
Dane was tempted to beat the crap out of McCray for frightening Josie. The damn man was off in the head.
He also wanted to drag Josie into his arms and promise her that no man would ever hurt her again.
How could he promise that after he’d failed his little sister?
He scrubbed his hand through his hair. He might not be able to promise anything, but he’d damned well do his best. “Are you okay?”
Josie nodded, although her lower lip quivered. “I can’t find Neesie, though. She got a callback for a second audition with the casting director but didn’t show. She might have booked a session with Easton.”
Dane glared at her. “I told you not to go near him.”
“I was coming to ask you to go with me,” she said, her chin jutting up.
Still angry over McCray’s manhandling, Dane gestured toward the door to the studio, then led the way. He knocked but didn’t bother to wait for an invitation to enter. He stormed inside, wanting to catch the man off guard.
Cameras were set up, backdrops of various scenes propped in the corner, one depicting a waterfall, which he assumed was Graveyard Falls.
“He’s not here,” Dane said.
Dane noted a schedule posted on the board. “Neesie Netherington was supposed to meet with him this morning.” God, he hoped the killer hadn’t gotten to her.
Josie hurried through the room, opening doors and closets in search of the young woman. “Look at this, Dane. I didn’t realize there was a back door.”
Neither had he. Dane scowled as he opened it. It led to the back parking lot. Easton could have easily come and gone from the studio with no one knowing. With the hall door closed and the sign indicating he was shooting, everyone would assume he was in the room, giving him an alibi when he could have been anywhere.
Dane scanned the parking lot and surrounding area, but didn’t spot Easton or his van.
Pulse racing and remembering that Neesie had said she’d seen a Mitzi doll, he went to search for it. If it was here, he’d know Easton was involved.
This time he had a chance to find the missing girl, to save her. It wouldn’t make up for Betsy or the other victims, but every life mattered.
He surveyed the studio. Cameras, set props, lighting equipment. Coffee cups and soda cans littered the trash can. A closet was behind the screen, partially blocked from view. He checked it, but the door wouldn’t budge.
Curious about what was so important it was locked away when the man’s expensive camera equipment was left in the open, he picked the lock.
A box of props sat inside.
Josie peered over his shoulder. Her sharp gasp followed his curse.
A Mitzi doll was tucked in the box, its face carved with the talon marks of a falcon, blood dotting the cheeks.
Neesie Netherington didn’t want to die. She clawed for something to hold on to, for a way to escape, but her bound hands met dirt and gravel. Panic shot through her. She was tied up, outside somewhere.
Too far away for anyone to hear her scream.
“Please don’t kill me,” Neesie whispered.
“I’m sorry, I have to. You saw too much.”
Tears blurred Neesie’s eyes, and she struggled to free herself, but the ropes were too tight, and her limbs felt weak. Heavy.
Oh God. She’d been drugged.
She tried to turn her head to see where she was, but she couldn’t move, and it was so dark she couldn’t make out anything. The metallic scent of blood filled her nostrils. Maybe a dead animal?
Or was it a human?
Bile rose to her throat. Was this what had happened to Charity and Patty?
Time stood still, her life flashing in front of her. Her acting career. Her ex. Her hopes and dreams.
Strong hands slid beneath her arms and dragged her across the ground. Dirt and gravel ripped at her skin. She tasted dust.
She blinked, desperate to figure out where she was.
First she’d been knocked unconscious. Sometime later she’d woken up in the trunk of a moving car. Engines had roared as vehicles passed. Wind howled. The road had been curvy, then bumpy as if they’d veered onto a dirt road.
Rough hands clenched her arms harder and jerked her back to the moment.
Neesie struggled again to make out her abductor’s face, but he slammed her against a tree, and her head swirled with a sickening rush.
Fear choked her.
“Just let me go,” she cried. “I promise I won’t say anything.”
A shrill laugh rent the air, and then the sharp sting of a knife pierced her skin. She opened her mouth and screamed as the point dug deeper into her cheek. Pain ripped through her. She tasted blood.
A second later, he jabbed it into her heart. Her body jerked and bucked. She gurgled blood.
Then the world blurred into a sea of black where she was floating away. Footsteps crunched. She tried to cry out. To beg him to come back. To save her.
But the scent of her own blood wafted toward her. The footsteps faded.
He was leaving her to die.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Using a handkerchief, Dane carefully wrapped the doll until he got it to the lab to be processed. Adrenaline pumped through him. If Easton’s prints were on it, he could use it to make a case.
“Josie, while I look around, page Easton to meet us.”
“Sure.”
“Be careful. If you see him, don’t let on that we suspect him. Text me and I’ll come to you.”
She agreed and hurried from the studio. Dane searched the rest of the box and the closet but found nothing incriminating. Just costumes and a copy of Josie’s book.
Dammit.
Still, the doll should be enough to obtain a search warrant for Easton’s cabin and car. In case Easton and Grimley had talked and planned to leave town, he called Sheriff Kimball. “Put out a BOLO on Easton. He’s driving a gray 2015 BMW.”
“I’m on it.” Sheriff Kimball cleared his throat. “By the way, Gil Baines spent the day scouting out film settings with some bearded guy in charge of sets and scene locations. They hiked around the woods and falls.”
Kimball had taken initiative. Dane was glad to have him on his side now. He needed eyes everywhere. “Anything suspicious?”
“Nothing concrete. I don’t think he had sex with the victims, though.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because he and this other guy have a thing.”
“I see.” Not that he cared about the man’s sexual orientation, but since both Charity and Patty had engaged in sex before their murders, they believed the killer had had sex with the women.
The trouble was he hadn’t left DNA on the victims.
“He also has an alibi for the last murder.”
Dane mentally checked him off the suspect list. The paging for Easton echoed over the intercom, and Dane hung up and headed to the interior hallway where he had a good vantage point of the rooms and front door.
If Easton was in the building and tried to flee, he’d catch him and haul his ass to the station.
Dane talked to the cameraman and the set director, but neither had seen Eddie all day. They’d also denied knowing Silas Grimley.
Were the two of them with Neesie? Or had they decided to run before he closed in?
“Speak to the casting director,” the set director said. “She brought Easton into this project.”
“Thanks.” Dane left the room in search of Olive Turnstyle.
Several actresses sat whispering nervously as they waited for turns to audition.
“Where is Ms. Turnstyle?” Dane asked.
“We don’t know. She was supposed to be here,” one of the girls said.
A second later, the woman burst into the room, looking harried.
“Sorry I’m late,” the casting director said. “I got sidetracked by a phone call.”
The women murmured they understood. When Olive noticed him, she smoothed down her skirt and offered him a smile, the harried look disappearing.
“Ms. Turnstyle?” He shook her hand, surprised at her firm handshake.
“Yes, Agent Hamrick. Please call me Olive.”
“All right, Olive.” He motioned for her to step to the side, then lowered his voice. “I wanted to talk to you about Eddie Easton. Is it true that you brought him into the film company?”
“Yes.” She jammed her notebook into her briefcase. “Actually, one of the actresses who worked on another film in LA introduced us. His unusual approach to the photo shoots caught our attention.”
He wanted her personal take on the man. “What do you mean, unusual?”
“He was creative and chose different locations and settings for the shoots, not just a studio approach. If an actor wanted a specific part, he suggested they dress to fit the character. He created sets or shot at locations similar to the setting in the story line of the script.” She hesitated. “Some of the pictures were disturbing, but he definitely created a niche for himself and got attention.”
“Did you ever sense Easton was dangerous?”
Her eyes flickered sideways as if she was contemplating how to answer. “His intensity made me nervous. He also has a propensity for the macabre.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“He kept a book of shots of women who’d suffered facial injuries.” Her nose wrinkled into a frown. “Before-and-after shots.”
“Before and after?”
“Yes. He’s friends with this plastic surgeon, Silas Grimley. Eddie referred models and actors wanting cosmetic work to him.”
He already knew that. He needed more. “Do you know Dr. Grimley personally?”
“No, but some of the actresses who’ve used him rave about his work. Although sometimes I thought he encouraged women to undergo drastic reconstruction that was unnecessary.”
That was no surprise. Being obsessed with perfect looks came with his job. “What did you think was unnecessary?”
“He carried things to the extreme.” She drummed her fingers on her notepad. “He told one woman he’d make her look like that Mitzi doll.”
Another indication Grimley might be guilty. “Anything else?”
She nodded. “There was also talk about a patient he’d accidentally disfigured during surgery. I think there was a lawsuit.”
“How did you know about the lawsuit?” Dane asked.
She shrugged. “Gossip. The acting community is small, Agent Hamrick.”
A botched surgery would definitely feed the grapevine. Women would want to warn other women.
Had the botched case and the lawsuit triggered Grimley’s desire to maim and murder these women?
Three of the women Josie spoke with mentioned seeing both Charity and Patty with Eddie Easton. He also recommended they schedule a consultation with Dr. Silas Grimley.
One actress was pleased with Grimley’s work, although she’d overheard an altercation about a lawsuit with a former patient while she was in the waiting room.
According to her, the good doctor broke down and left the office in an incoherent rage. The scene frightened the young woman so badly that she decided not to pursue another surgery.
Josie thanked them and went to find Dane. Just as she rounded a corner in the hallway, Doyle Yonkers appeared, his demeanor instantly putting her on edge.
She tried to sidestep him, but he snatched her arm and yanked her into a corner.
Back stiffening, Josie pulled her arm away. “What are you doing?”
“Haven’t you and this movie crew caused enough trouble?” he snapped. “Our families didn’t want the past dredged up and put on screen for everyone to see.”
“The past was dredged up when Billy Linder committed murder. All I did was tell the story.”
“You’ve brought more pain to the victims’ families than you can imagine. Even worse, you made it sound like my sister was at fault.”
“That’s not true,” Josie said firmly.
His eyes pierced her with condemnation. “That’s how my mother felt. That you think Candy should have been friends with Charlene. That girl was weird as shit, though, and dangerous. Nobody liked her.”
