Blood of Dawn (15 page)
Authors: Tami Dane
“I’ll run a full background on him. Can you avoid him?”
“A part of me wants to. Another doesn’t. I need to figure out whether he’s our unsub. Then again, if he is, he could hunt me down and . . . you know.” My gaze flicked to the clock on my dash. “His stepsister is my tutor, so I’m going to see what I can learn about him from her. Without calling too much attention to myself. This undercover stuff is tricky. I want to get close enough, but not too close to put myself in danger.”
“I need to call the chief. She should know about this. Do you want to stay at my place tonight?”
“No thanks. I’m probably just being paranoid.”
“I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss your intuition. If you ask me, I think we should pull you from the school. The chief’s already taken some heat for putting you in danger.”
“You know what? I wouldn’t complain if you did pull me out. The kids aren’t talking to me, anyway.”
“Your parents’ place has a security system, right?”
“Yes, it does. My father’s the head of security for a queen. Security’s kind of his thing.”
“Good. As long as the system is armed, you should be safe.”
“Unless creepy boy is some kind of Mythic that can vaporize and seep through the crack under the front door.”
“Now you’re talking crazy, Sloan.” His chuckle made me feel better. I’d made him laugh. I hadn’t heard that sound in a while. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed it. “I’ll call the chief and see what she thinks. I’m guessing you’ve spent your last day at summer school.”
The all-too-famous Alice Cooper song “School’s Out” played in my head. I felt my lips curl into a smile. “I’d be glad to do lunch runs and make coffee for the rest of the summer, if it means I don’t have to go back.”
“You’d better be careful there, Sloan. You may get exactly what you wished for. Later.” He clicked off.
I glanced at the clock in my car for the second time, shoved my phone into my pocket, and headed inside. Even if I was dropping out of summer school, I still wanted to get in this final tutoring session—see if I could get anything else out of Jia. One thing I would be sure to do, though—avoid mentioning Derik’s name.
I found her sitting exactly where she’d been last time, at a table in the back, near the romance section. She waved me over when she saw me approaching. I donned a smile and plunked down on the chair.
“So how’d your quiz go?” she asked.
“I got a seventy.”
Her brows scrunched. “A seventy? You knew that material.”
“I have problems taking tests.”
The brows didn’t unscrunch. “Huh. I guess we’d better work harder.” She reached for my book, which I’d dropped on the table, and started leafing through the pages. “What chapter are you doing now?”
“Three.”
“Okay.” She found the start of the chapter and skimmed the pages. “All right. This stuff is easy. We can get that grade up.” She hesitated. “But before we dig in, I need to tell you something,” she whispered.
“What?” I whispered back.
“You mentioned Derik last time, when we were talking about . . . what’s been going on. Anyway, I was talking to my mom about it, and I think he might’ve overheard me.”
“He did.”
Her face paled. “I’m sorry. What happened?”
“He pinned me to the wall and asked why I was talking about him.”
“And . . . ?”
“I told him I thought he was cute.”
“You did? I mean, do you?”
“Um . . . I’d rather not talk about this with you.”
“No, it’s okay. I swear I won’t tell anyone.”
Right. “You’re his stepsister.”
“Not legally. Our parents aren’t married. They’re just dating. They say they’re engaged.”
“I see.”
She inched closer. “The truth is, I’ve been telling my mom for a long time that there’s something creepy about Derik. There’s a strange vibe coming off him, but she doesn’t believe me.” She paused. “But you agree with me, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. Especially now. He’s very pushy with girls. And more than a little scary.”
“You don’t think . . .” She tipped her head down and cupped her hand over her mouth. “Could he be the killer?”
“I don’t know. Do you know where he was the nights of the murders?”
“I don’t know when the murders happened.”
“The last one was this past Friday.”
She looked up and tapped her fingers on the tabletop. “Hmm. He stayed at our house that night. He left at around nine. Don’t know where he went. He didn’t tell me, and I didn’t ask. But he came home around eleven.”
Eleven was too early. The ME set the time of death at after two
A.M.
A.M.
“Are you sure about that time?” I asked.
“Yes. I was awake, watching a movie.”
“Could he have left again, after you saw him?”
“I know he didn’t leave between eleven and about three
A.M.
That’s when I went to bed.”
A.M.
That’s when I went to bed.”
Damn. He had an alibi. An airtight one—unless Jia was lying. I’d seen no signs of deception, though. Not one. And why would she bring up this whole thing and then lie? That made no sense. The other alternative was that she was mistaken about the time.
“Did anyone else see him at home that night?”
“Why are you asking me that? Do you think I’m lying?”
“Of course not. But maybe you’re mistaken. Or maybe he slipped out for a while and then came back in, making you think he’d been there that whole time. Criminals do that when they want to establish an alibi.”
“No, there’s no mistake. He wasn’t faking anything. We saw him—I mean, I saw him.”
“There was someone else there? Your parents?”
Jia went silent again. Several seconds later, she mumbled, “Let’s get to work. I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget it, okay? Why are you so interested in this, anyway?”
“Jia, he threatened me. So you see now why I’m worried! If he’s the killer, I need to tell someone.”
“I don’t think he’s the killer.”
“But you just said there’s something not right about him.”
“Yeah. . . .”
What was this girl hiding? Was she covering for him because he threatened her too? Or was it something else?
“Jia, has he threatened you too?”
“No.”
“Then why do I get the feeling you’re hiding something?”
“Damn it, you don’t give up, do you? You should become a cop. You’d be good at it, I think.” She stared down at the table for several moments. I said absolutely nothing, hoping she’d feel compelled to speak, to fill the silence. “It has nothing to do with my stepbrother. If you must know, I wasn’t alone Friday night.” Her cheeks turned deep red, but her lips curled a little into a shy but slightly wicked smile. “I’d rather not say who I was with.”
I was curious. Much too curious not to ask, “Who?”
She stared at me for a heartbeat, two, three. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”
“Again, who am I going to tell? Nobody at school will even say hello.”
“Mr. Hollerbach.”
I tried to hide my shock. I felt my mouth gape open, but I snapped it shut. “The chemistry teacher?”
“You can’t tell. He’ll be fired.”
Oh, this was bad. The notion of this young woman having some kind of illicit affair with a teacher hadn’t crossed my mind. She was bright. She seemed to have her act together. Why would she do something so foolish?
Smart kids do stupid things sometimes.
“I won’t tell anyone, but you really need to think hard about what you’re doing.” I hadn’t noticed if Mr. Hollerbach wore a wedding ring. Even though, technically, I wasn’t a student, I didn’t go around checking teachers’ ring fingers out, to see if they might be single.
“We haven’t done a lot . . . yet.” The color in her cheeks deepened. “Why am I talking about this? We’re supposed to be studying.”
“Forget about chemistry. This is more important.” I grabbed her hand and locked my eyes with hers. “I don’t care if Mr. Hollerbach is single and all you’ve done is sit around and talk about organic compounds. You’re making a mistake. A big mistake. And he . . . That bastard shouldn’t have even entertained the thought of coming to your house at night.”
Jia’s lip started quivering. “But he’s one of the few people I can talk to. He says I’m beautiful and smart, and he loves me.”
Oh, God. It was worse than I thought. “You need to find an adult you can trust, and you need to get some help with this. If you don’t, you will eventually be hurt, and I would hate to see that happen.”
The quiver got worse. “But he loves me. He’d never hurt me.”
“We all want to believe that. The sad truth is, people stop loving.”
“He said he’s going to leave his wife and marry me.”
He was married. Even worse. “Don’t believe him. Chances are, he has no intention of leaving his wife.”
All the color drained from Jia’s face.
Now I felt crappy. “I’m sorry. I’m not saying this to be mean. It’s the truth.”
“You don’t know him. How could you know what he will or won’t do?”
“I can’t, but I know this. Infidelity in marriage doesn’t just hurt the people directly involved. It hurts everyone—the spouse, the children, the entire family. You’re a smart young woman, with a brilliant future ahead of you. Don’t you want a man in your life who you can trust? A man who won’t cheat on you someday, when he gets tired of you, or you’ve lost your youth? Don’t you want a man who will respect you?”
“Of course, I do. But why are you so emotional about this?”
“Because my father cheated on my mother,” I confessed.
“I’ve seen the ugly side of infidelity.”
“I’m sorry. What happened?”
“They’re married. They’re having another child soon. And I’m praying for my mother’s sake, and the unborn baby’s, that my father meant it when he promised it won’t ever happen again.”
“I guess I never looked at it from that perspective.” She glanced down at her hand. A small gold band with tiny diamonds was circling her left ring finger. She twisted it. “He gave me this. A promise ring.” She blinked a few times. “He said we’d be married as soon as I graduate.”
“He’s a lying jerk. And even if he’s not lying about marrying you, you will eventually regret it. He’ll do to you what he’s doing now. He’ll dump you for someone else.”
“I trust him.”
“You’re trusting the wrong man.”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” She pushed the book in front of me. “We’re running out of time, and we haven’t studied anything yet. If you flunk another test, I’m going to feel like crap.”
My supposed flunking was the least of her problems. But clearly, she wasn’t ready to hear that yet.
“All right. If it’ll make you feel better, we’ll study.”
Mourning is not forgetting. . . . It is an undoing. Every minute tie has to be untied and something permanent and valuable recovered and assimilated from the dust. The end is gain, of course. Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be made strong, in fact. But the process is like all other human births, painful and long and dangerous.
—Margery Allingham
15
After that conversation with Jia, I pretty much decided we had nothing on our case but a sketchy profile. We had no viable suspects, no solid persons of interest. No motive. No clues, outside of the marks on the victims and a couple of burned-up electronics. I needed to do something about that.
I pointed my car southeast, toward Quantico.
Using speakerphone, I called JT as I was pulling onto Dumfries Road. He answered on the second ring.
“I talked to the chief,” he said.
“And . . . ?”
“Consider yourself a summer school dropout. You’re through.”
Those words were music to my ears. “That’s a relief. I just finished up my second tutoring session. My tutor states that she not only can vouch for Derik Sutton’s whereabouts on the night of Hailey’s death, but she also can produce—though not exactly willingly—a second witness to support her statement. Derik Sutton was at home when Hailey was killed.”
“I guess that should make you feel better, right? Do you think we can trust her?”
“I believe we can trust her witness more than her. But my gut says we can also trust her. She had no problems stating she doesn’t feel comfortable around Derik. But she doesn’t feel threatened by him either. So why would she lie? Not to mention, she confessed something else to me. And this something else could get her witness in a lot of hot water. As common belief dictates, when a witness starts telling the interviewer the truth, she becomes increasingly less capable of lying. The likelihood of her telling a lie is low.”
“Well, damn,” JT responded. “Look at you, all grown-up. I’m impressed. I knew when I first met you that you’d catch on quickly. But it’s only been a few short weeks. I can’t wait to see what you’re doing by the end of the summer.”
“That’s all fine and dandy, but we’re back to square one on this case. Once again.”
“Where are you headed now?” he asked.
“To get some dinner. Then Quantico.”
“Where are you eating?”
“I haven’t thought about it yet. I’m on Dumfries, heading that way.”
“Meet me at Sam’s, on Potomac. We’ll have a working dinner. I think we need to sit down and put our heads together on this case. I haven’t been with it for this one. I’m going to correct that, starting now.”
This was good. I was feeling a little overwhelmed. And extremely frustrated. If JT’s head was in the right place, I wondered if we might be closer to profiling this unsub. I checked my dash clock. “I can be there in maybe thirty-five minutes, depending upon traffic.”
“See you then.”
Exactly thirty-eight minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of Sam’s Inn. As I was maneuvering into an empty spot, I caught sight of JT’s car, parked down the row. My stomach rumbled. I was starving. Hopefully, we wouldn’t be waiting for a table.
In I scurried; I glanced around the waiting area. No JT. I approached the hostess, who was reaching for menus from a shelf. “I’m meeting someone. My name’s Sloan.”
“This way.” She led me to a table in the back corner of the restaurant. JT stood as I came closer.
“Forty minutes. Not bad,” he said.
“Can I get you something to drink?” the hostess asked as she set my menu on the table.
I made myself comfortable and ordered a diet cola.
She scurried off.
JT and I exchanged gazes.
“Well,” I said, feeling a little awkward.
“Well,” he echoed. “Derik Sutton has an alibi. Not the best news I’ve heard.”
“Yeah. He’s creepy enough to be a killer, if you ask me. I thought we had something there.” I picked up my menu and skimmed the selections.
JT sipped his water, then set his glass down. “This case is frustrating me. We’re getting nowhere fast. Three young women are dead. We’re no closer to a profile today than we were four days ago. And I realize I’m partially to blame. I haven’t been one hundred percent this week. But I’m working on it.”
“Who would be, JT?”
He shrugged. “Wagner brought back your stereo. He said it was shorted out. Power surge. That’s all he could get. And Zoey Urish has a solid alibi as well.”
I had no comment about the stereo or Urish. What was there to say? They were both dead ends. I set the menu aside. “How’s Hough?”
“She’s doing better. They’ve moved her into a regular room. And she’s getting some help. Now that she’s stable, it’s actually better that I have this case to focus on. If I don’t keep busy, I’ll be sitting around, thinking.” His mouth tightened. “That’s not a good thing right now.”
The waitress brought my cola. I thanked her and took a sip, waiting for JT to order his food.
After I placed my order, and the waitress hurried off to turn it in, I said, “I’m glad she’s doing better, and I understand why you want to keep busy. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I have my moments. I just try to keep those moments to limited times.”
“I understand. Is there anything I can do? Anything we should be doing for you or for Brittany?”
“I’m fine. As far as Britt goes, honestly, I don’t know. She’s grieving. That’s to be expected.” He sighed, and his mouth went tight again. “The timing was rough, with the breakup. Nothing I’ve done has helped much.” He drank some more water. I noticed his eyes were getting watery again.
“I hate feeling so useless.” I said.
“Believe me, so do I.”
We didn’t say anything for a long time. Long enough that it felt awkward. I did some thinking while I sat there, watching the ice melt in my cola.
Finally I broke the silence. “JT, our case. I’m thinking we should go to Hailey Roberts’s wake tonight.”
“Okay.” He was staring at his water glass, blinking a lot.
“Maybe we’ll see something. If nothing else, it’ll give us some more people to interview.”
“Okay.”
JT had mentally shut down.
So much for the working dinner.
And so much for his being okay.
After our dinner, which ran longer than I had expected, I ran home to change before heading to Ambrose Funeral Home. It was a pretty, vinyl-sided white structure—an old house, turned commercial—situated at the end of a quiet residential street. As I pulled up, I noticed the cars packing the lot. I circled the block, finding an open spot down at the far end, and hoofed it to the building.
I prayed for a clue, some insight, anything that might help us nail this profile.
Inside, I met a wall of bodies the instant I walked through the door, mostly teenagers huddled in groups, whispering. I saw very few with teary eyes. I wriggled my way through the lobby and entered Viewing Room A.
The casket was positioned at the room’s end; stands displaying large photograph collages stood on either side of it. And more framed photos sat on every horizontal surface. Large clusters of people were gathered here and there; some were sitting in the rows of tightly packed chairs, some standing. I recognized Hailey’s mother, standing next to an easel, talking to a woman. Her arms were wrapped around herself, and her face was very pale. A stab of pain jabbed me at the sight.
I knew I should at least greet her, but I didn’t want to interrupt. The woman she was speaking to left a moment later, offering me the chance.
“Hello, Mrs. Roberts,” I said, offering my hand. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” She gave my hand a very weak shake, then released it. “Have you found my daughter’s killer yet?”
“No, not yet.”
She blinked. Her lips tightened. They quivered slightly. “I can’t believe this is real.” Her gaze drifted to the coffin. “Since that awful night, I’ve been waiting, expecting to wake up and find out it was all a nightmare. I go to my daughter’s bedroom every morning, praying she’ll be there, in her bed, sleeping.”
I had no idea what to say. There was nothing that would take away the pain I saw in her eyes. Nothing to give her hope or ease her guilt. I nodded.
Mrs. Roberts said, her voice shaky, “I want to know why. I need to know why. Until I have that, I don’t think I can go on.”
“We’re doing our best to get that answer for you.”
Someone nudged my back. I glanced over my shoulder. It was JT.
He reached around me to extend his hand to Mrs. Roberts. And as they shook hands, he offered his condolences.
A woman approached, leaned into Mrs. Roberts, and whispered something into her ear. Mrs. Roberts nodded. “I’m sorry, Agents. I have to go handle something.”
“Of course. Before you go, is there any chance we can get a copy of the guest log?” I asked.
“I suppose. Why? Do you think the killer is here?”
“It’s not likely, but I thought I’d ask, anyway.”
Her gaze lurched around the room, and her face paled even more. “You think he could be watching us? Would he enjoy this? Seeing people suffer?” A tear dribbled down her cheek, and she sniffled.
“It’s not very likely he’s here,” JT repeated, stepping in a little closer. “The list will help us find people to interview, friends and fellow students who might have seen her that night.”
“I see.” She dabbed at her nose. “I’ll ask the funeral director to make copies before we leave.”
“Thank you.” I watched her walk away, shoulders slumped forward, head lowered. Who wouldn’t feel bad for that woman? “Look at her. She’s absolutely torn apart. She’s blaming herself.” I glanced around the room. “Where’s her husband?”
“This is the side we don’t see very often,” JT said, tugging on my elbow, moving me toward the back of the room. “In my years with the FBI, this is only the second wake I’ve attended.”
“Sure makes it hard to remain objective when you see so much pain and suffering.”
“It does.” He steered me toward a chair in the back row. “We need to stay out of the way, just watch people.”
“Do you think the killer is here?” I whispered.
“It’s possible. Some organized killers like to watch the fallout from their crimes. They enjoy the suffering.”
“I know, that’s so twisted.”
“It is.”
We watched for a few minutes. My gaze kept finding Mrs. Roberts. And every time I saw her, my heart jerked in my chest. This just wasn’t right. That girl up there shouldn’t be dead. The longer we sat there, the worse I felt. I needed to solve this case.
Needed to.
What if I couldn’t? What if I failed? And even if I did do my very best, what if it wasn’t enough?
Needed to.
What if I couldn’t? What if I failed? And even if I did do my very best, what if it wasn’t enough?
For the first time, I was doubting myself.
I asked, “JT, when you first started, did you ever question whether you could handle this job?”
“Yes, I did. And I still do.”
“You haven’t quit yet.”
“No. I tell myself that this stuff would still happen, even if I walked away. But at least by staying, I’m doing something about it. I’m helping, instead of closing my eyes and pretending it doesn’t exist.”
“But do you worry that seeing so much is changing you?”
“It probably has. It’s probably made me more cynical and less trusting of human beings in general. I see the dark side of human nature.” His eyes searched mine. “Sloan, if you’re worried the darkness will somehow taint you—eat away your soul—there’s still time to walk away. I’d hate to see you do that. You’re so intelligent. You’d make a damn good agent. But that doesn’t mean this is the right career for you. That’s something you have to determine for yourself.”
“I guess it’s good that I’m only an intern. I haven’t made any commitments yet.”
Other books
Unbreakable Together: A New Adult Romance Novel by Chayse, Amanda
Apache Heart by Miller, Amy J
Dying to Survive by Rachael Keogh
The End of Forever by Lurlene McDaniel
Awakening His Lady by Kathrynn Dennis
A Turn of Curses by Melanie Nilles
The Bird Cage by Kate Wilhelm
Among the Nameless Stars by Diana Peterfreund
Nekropolis by Maureen F. McHugh