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We drive by the business section of town, where the office parks are lined up near restaurants and retail shops. Something flashes by my window, and suddenly, a spark fuses in my brain and I have the answer, with lightning clarity.
Iknow.
“Stop!”
The truck comes to a screeching halt as he yanks the steering wheel to the right and pulls to the side of the road. “What is it?”
“The flowers. Oh, God, Cain, the flowers. You said you think this guy has history in France, right?”
“Yes.”
“The flowers he’s been sending. The beautiful purplish-blue flowers, those are irises, right? He puts them next to the baby’s breath.”
He’s staring at me now with so much intensity, I feel hot under the glare. “Yes?”
“The iris is the national flower of France. Baby’s breath represents innocence, doesn’t it?”
He nods.
“Criminals who leave clues think they’re clever, that they can outsmart the police. Most of them are narcissists. He did this out of pride, to taunt us.”
“Didwhat?” He’s clearly running out of patience.
I talk faster. “The fleur-de-lis emblem, the one with the flower and leaves? French symbol.Fleur-de-lis.He’s taken every single woman right here in Salem, thevery samecity with the Fleur-de-lis Memorial.”
His phone rings again as he pulls back out into the intersection.Joe.
“Boss, we found something we think you need to know.”
“Don’t keep me waiting.”
“You ordered us to find the names of the people killed in the counterattack of the Embassy to see if anyone was connected to Dossier. We found none by the name of Dossier, sir. We did, however, find aDozier.Actually, two. Twins. One was killed, the survivor moved to America. We found him, and he fits the profile of the man they’ve suspected of being behind these attacks.”
I suddenly feel cold. “Could… someone from another country become a police officer here in the States?”
“Depends on the state but yes, many departments will allow it.”
“So the former police officer that’s suspected in the abductions and rape cases… could’ve been the same man you fought overseas… especially if he fudged his age here in the U.S.”
“Yes.”
I think this over. “Cain. Dozier’s French for willow… it’s the surname for someone who lived near a plantation of willows… if you killed his twin…” I smack my forehead. “Skip the bar, we can’t go there. We have to go to the Salem Willows, it’s where the Fleur-de-lis Memorial is!” My heart races with excitement. We’ve had a breakthrough.“It’s a hunch, but my hunches are very, very good.”
“Don’t get too excited. He likely laid this out precisely so we’d find him. Remember, Skylar said it was a setup.”
The Salem Willows Park is thirty-five acres along the ocean, named because of the white willow trees planted along the walkways to offer shade. The long, graceful branches nearly graze the ground they’ve grown so long, and on warm summer days like today, it’s not unusual to find families strolling along the paths, ice cream cones in hand, or cyclists whizzing past on two wheels. The rocky beach borders large, grassy fields, where people often picnic or play frisbee.
Around the Willows, though, are several residential houses, apartment complexes and rentals, video arcades and vendors selling carnival food and treats.
The Fleur-de-lis Memorial stands in the center of Salem Willows Park, only steps away from the main attractions.
When we arrive, the park is teeming with people, dogs, and bicyclists. We park the truck at the edge and move quickly to the Fleur-de-lis.
My skin prickles.
Here. He’s here.
They’rehere. I know they are.
