Since he’d only just cleaned out the fireplace, his wife would be suspicious if he started a fire before evening. No, that wouldn’t work.
Bury it. Yes. He would bury it. Time and the elements would destroy the filthy pages. They would decompose and return to the earth where they belonged.
He had a minor yard task or two. Some of the landscape lighting needed repairs. His wife would think nothing of him doing those chores. But just to be safe, he would wait until she was away from the inn. She had errands. Perhaps he would insist she do them this afternoon.
A relieved sigh whispered past his lips.
He didn’t have to worry about the police anymore. Or that annoying Sarah Newton. Lucky for her. He’d racked his brain coming up with a plan to scare her away. That business was no longer necessary.
Finally, he could rest easy again.
45
Public Safety Office, 5:15 p.m.
Until he could be transported to the county jail, Jerald Pope was being held in the conference room. Two deputies were stationed in the room with him, another two outside the office.
Every single piece of evidence they had found was lined up in a neat little row. The shoe had belonged to Alicia, the glasses to Valerie. The knife and the other items had been covered in Pope’s fingerprints and both victims’ blood.
Too neat.
Sarah stood outside the rear entrance, wishing again she had a cigarette.
Her instincts still leaned toward a female perpetrator. But, of course, no one wanted to hear that. They had their murderer. Sarah, herself, had been forced to admit that it was a man who called her cell phone and then snatched her.
Of course it was a man. He was covering for someone. His wife or his daughter? Sarah’s every instinct insisted that was the case. Didn’t anyone consider it a little strange that the first two victims were murdered and the last two escaped unharmed?
This was utter and complete bullshit.
She jerked the door open and went back inside.
“Hey, I was looking for you.” Kale’s worried gaze searched hers. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
If he asked her that one more time ...
“I’m fine. Just ...” Why bother even saying anything to him? He was like the others. He wanted this case over.
“Come in here.” He pulled her into the closest office and closed the door. “Talk to me.”
What was the point?
“Come on, Sarah, say what’s on your mind.”
“Don’t you find this all too easy?” She turned her hands up. “The neatly placed evidence. The fact that Polly and I escaped when the other two didn’t. Think about that.”
“Sarah.” Kale leveled a weary gaze on hers. “You can’t seriously think he’s innocent after what they found in that storage unit in Bangor.”
Yeah, yeah. She knew. Twenty perfectly preserved human hearts. “Yes,” she agreed, “he’s a sick monster who obviously killed a whole hell of a lot of people, including the two young women from twenty years ago. I just don’t think he killed Valerie and Alicia.”
The federal authorities were assuming jurisdiction over that aspect of the Pope case. Which was no surprise. August was probably in the men’s room whacking off right now in celebration of the huge case he’d cracked.
“Sarah,” Kale said patiently, “why would he accept responsibility for these two murders? Why would he let himself be caught? No one was ever going to catch him. Don’t you see that what you’re proposing doesn’t make sense?”
It might not make sense, but she couldn’t get past it.
“Why would he do that?” Kale asked.
“To cover for someone else. That makes complete sense.” She paced the small room. “The murders were motivated by envy. That’s a very female motivation. The boot print, the drug, the roses. None of it is even remotely consistent with his previous MO.”
