Cold Truth (18 page)

“Sure. I’d be happy to. But why don’t you take Cass?”

“Because I think she’ll be out cold before too much longer. I’d like her to have her things here when she wakes up. And I don’t think she should be in that house right now.”

“She doesn’t strike me as the squeamish type, Rick,” Regan noted.

“I don’t mean to imply that she is. But I think there’s a possibility the killer might be watching her house. In that case, he could easily follow her. Let’s keep her whereabouts under wraps for at least twenty-four hours, if possible. Give her a chance to rest before the real crazy stuff begins.”

“What crazy stuff?”

“I expect that by this time tomorrow, the chief will have a viable list of names. That, along with Annie’s imput, should put us closer to a suspect. Sooner or later, this guy will strike again. I think it’s all going to begin to boil over within the next few days.”

He looked up as Cass entered the room and headed for the table.

“And, unless I’m mistaken, I expect we’ll have him in our crosshairs by the end of the week. Until then, one of our priorities is to keep
her
out of
his.
”

“You’re going to keep me out of what?” Cass slid into her seat.

“We’re going to keep you out of harm’s way,” Rick told her.

“Nice of you.”

“What did Tasha have to say?”

“She’ll drop a copy of everything she has to you here. I didn’t know where I’d be staying.” Cass smiled up at the waitress, who began to serve their entrées. “I thought if she dropped them off to you, we’d all see them.”

Rick nodded. “Good thinking.”

“Wow. A whole meal.” Cass blinked at the plate that was set before her. “Vegetables and everything.”

“Let’s see how much of it you can eat before you fall asleep.”

“This will only serve to revive me, Agent Cisco,” Cass told him.

Rick smiled. He doubted she’d make it through dessert.

She did, but barely. Halfway through her cheesecake, Cass was struggling to keep her eyes open.

“You okay there?” Rick asked.

“I think I’d like a cup of coffee,” she replied.

“How about a nap?”

“I’ll be fine. A little caffeine . . .”

“Cass, I took the liberty of getting a room for you. It’s actually part of my suite on the second floor. Your own bathroom. Balcony, with a view of the ocean. I’ll give you the key and walk you up. You need to get some sleep.”

“I need to get some things from my house, then we’ll see.”

“Regan will get you what you need.”

“She doesn’t know where anything is.”

“You could tell me while we’re on our way upstairs,” Regan told her. “I’d be happy to get whatever you want. But Rick is right. You need to rest for a little while.”

“What if Lucy wakes up? I won’t know . . .”

“I’ll have the hospital put a call in to me and I’ll come right in and wake you the minute I hear from them,” Rick said.

“Promise?”

“Absolutely.” Rick took Cass’s arm and helped her stand.

Regan grabbed Cass’s bag and followed Rick to the stairwell. Mitch stayed behind to take care of their bill.

“You know I must be tired if I’m not arguing with you over this,” Cass told Rick as they climbed the steps. “All of a sudden, I can’t keep my eyes open.”

“It’s your body’s way of insisting you let it rest for a while.” Rick steered her in the direction of his rooms. He unlocked the door and led her and Regan inside.

“See, nice sitting room here. This door opens into your room.”

“Where do you stay?”

“That door over there is my bedroom.” He opened her door and motioned to Regan to follow Cass inside. “Cass, Regan is going to help you get settled. If you need anything, you let me know. I’ll be right outside.”

She nodded and disappeared into the room with Regan, who emerged less than five minutes later.

“She’s out cold. Are you sure you didn’t slip something into her food?” Regan asked softly.

“I didn’t have to. She was wobbly in the chief’s office. I’m surprised she lasted through lunch.”

“So, what’s next?”

“Next is you and me go to her house and pick up whatever it is she’ll need for the next few days.” Rick opened the door to the hall and looked in the direction of the stairs. “As soon as Mitch gets here, we can go.”

“You look a little beat yourself,” Regan noted. “Why not stay here and get some sleep. Mitch and I can find the house and get Cass’s things.”

“I want to see how the investigation is going there. And I want to look around the house, make sure nothing was missed. Then we’ll come back and I’ll see if I can get a few hours of sleep before something else happens.”

As it turned out, Rick was able to get more than a few hours of sleep. It was almost five the following morning when the ringing of his cell phone woke him. He sat up and listened to the caller carefully, then rose and pulled on his pants and shirt. In bare feet, he padded across the carpet to Cass’s door and knocked lightly.

“Cass?” He opened the door. “Cassie?”

She sat up, startled and disoriented.

“What . . . ?” She looked around, trying to place herself.

“You’re at the Inn, Cass. The hospital just called. Lucy is awake, and she’s asking for you.” He gestured to the chair near the foot of her bed. “Regan left your clothes and things there. If you can get up and get dressed, I’ll take you to the hospital.”

Cass was out of bed in a flash.

“I’ll be right there,” she told him. “I can be ready in a minute. Just give me one minute . . .”

Rick closed the door and went back to his room to finish dressing, grateful they’d both gotten a good night’s sleep. He had the feeling they’d had the last real rest either of them were likely to get until this was over.

E
ighteen

Cass pushed past David Webb as she entered the hush of the hospital room, ignoring his attempts to speak with her. She went directly to Lucy’s bed. Her knees weakened at the sight of her cousin lying there with a ring of bruises around her throat and tubes in her nose.

“Lulu.” Whispering the old childhood nickname, Cass leaned in close and took Lucy’s hands in her own.

Lucy’s voice was so muted, Cass at first wasn’t certain she’d spoken at all. She murmured something, a string of words, and Cass put her ear up to Lucy’s mouth.

The color drained from her face as she listened carefully to Lucy’s labored words.

“Are you sure, honey? Are you absolutely sure that’s what he said?” She tucked a loose lock of dark hair behind Lucy’s ear.

Lucy nodded slowly, almost apologetically, then closed her eyes. Cass lingered for a moment, rubbing Lucy’s hands gently before turning toward the door, where Rick awaited her.

David caught Cass by the arm as she started past him. “What did she say?”

“Nothing that concerns you.” She tried to shake off his hand to walk around him.

“If she said anything about me . . .”

“Don’t flatter yourself. She has more important things on her mind at the moment. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“The doctors said she’d probably be ready to leave by the end of the week. Just so you know, I’m taking her home.”

Cass turned back to him. “Why?”

“Why? Because she’s my wife, that’s why.”

“Oh. You finally remembered.” Cass walked past him and left the room.

“She needs to be home. She needs to be with her sons,” David called to her from the doorway, but Cass refused to turn around.

Rick fell in step with her and they walked toward the elevator.

“Where’s the fire?” he asked.

“Any place but here.” Her breath was coming in little, short puffs. “Just get me out of here.”

He led her to the elevator and took her arm when the doors opened. He punched the
L
button and leaned against the side of the car, studying her face and wondering what Lucy could have said that had unnerved her. They reached the lobby and she stepped out of the car as soon as the elevator doors opened. She headed for the exit to the parking garage as if fleeing a burning building.

Rick kept pace with her as they neared his car. He unlocked it with the remote when they were still ten feet from it, and once inside, he turned on the ignition, but didn’t put the car in gear.

“Are you going to tell me what she said that has you upset? Did she recognize the man who attacked her? Give you any clue as to who he is?”

Cass shook her head. “No, she didn’t say anything like that. She’s having trouble speaking, you know, because of the bruising to her throat. But she said . . . she said . . .” Cass cleared her throat and appeared to be attempting to collect herself. “She said that while he was attacking her . . . while he was attempting to rape her . . . the entire time he was strangling her, he was calling her
Jenny.
”

“Jenny?” Rick frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Rick, my mother’s name was Jenny,” Cass said softly.

“I remember. You showed me the memorial at the bird sanctuary.” He appeared puzzled. “But there are lots of women named Jenny. I can see why it might rattle you a bit, but—”

“I told you my mother was murdered. I don’t think I told you she’d been strangled. June 1979. Twenty-six years ago.”

“Twenty-six . . .” Rick frowned. “In 1979. The same summer the Bayside Strangler started his run here. Jesus, Cass, are you telling me she was one of his first victims? Don’t you think you could have mentioned this earlier?”

“No, she wasn’t. At least . . . no. Well . . . no.” Cass was clearly confused. “The man who killed her . . . killed my father . . . my little sister . . . he was arrested. He was tried and convicted.”

“Did he confess?”

“No.” She nibbled on the nail of her right index finger. “No. He never did.”

“Maybe we should go speak with him.”

“Tough to do. He died about ten years ago, remember?”

“Right. Maybe Lucy’s attacker had another Jenny in mind.”

“The thing you need to know is, Lucy looks almost exactly like my mother.” She closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest. “Now that I think about it, all of the victims look a bit like my mother. Pretty, with long dark hair . . .”

“No one ever connected your family’s murder with the Bayside Strangler?”

She shook her head. “Why would they? This was an entire family that was wiped out—almost wiped out. The others—they were all attacks on women only. The MO was entirely different, too. My family . . .” She swallowed hard. “No one else was attacked in their own home that summer. Looking back, I can see why there was no connection made. And I’m still not sure there is a connection. I don’t want there to be a connection.”

“Where were you?” he asked. “Were you away from home on the day of the attack?”

“I was there,” she said, then turned to stare out the window.

He wanted to ask how she had been spared, but the look that had come over her face warned him off.

“We need to talk to Chief Denver. You need to tell him what Lucy said.”

Cass nodded but did not speak.

Rick started the car and they drove in silence to the police station. They walked straight back to the chief’s office and Cass barely knocked before opening the door and walking in.

“Cass.” Chief Denver looked up from his desk, started to say something, but her expression stopped him. Instead, he asked, “Cassie, what’s happened?”

She told him about her conversation with Lucy.

“He called her
Jenny
?” Denver asked incredulously. “She was sure?”

“She was sure.”

“But what the hell . . . ?” Denver stared at her blankly. “Why the hell would he . . . ?”

“Chief, I wonder if I could have a look at your police file on the attack on Cass’s family,” Rick said. “I’m assuming you still have it?”

“I guess it’s still in the storage room. When we moved into the new municipal building seven years ago, all our old files were packed up and stored. I can have someone look for it. I don’t recall giving an okay to get rid of any of them, so I’m assuming we still have it. What do you want with it? What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking there’s a connection to the Bayside Strangler that somehow slipped by everyone back then.”

“No way did we miss a goddamn thing. No damn way. What the hell would make you even think such a thing?”

“Let’s start with the attack on Lucy Webb and the fact that her attacker called her
Jenny.
”

“There are a lot of women named Jenny.”

“With long dark hair, who were strangled to death by a killer who only targets women with long dark hair?”

“I’m telling you, Cisco, I was part of both investigations back then, the Burkes’ and the Strangler’s. I was among the first officers on the scene at the Burke home. I can tell you that not much slipped past anyone. We all knew Bob and Jenny. We went over that house with a fine-tooth comb. We found the killer hiding in the garage, covered in Bob Burke’s blood. There was no doubt who was responsible for those killings.” Denver’s voice rose with anger and he spoke as if he’d forgotten Cass was in the room. “I carried that child down the steps, bleeding from her neck to her waist, cut up like—”

Cass bolted from the room.

“Jesus, I can’t believe I just did that.” Denver ran a hand over his head. “Holy mother in heaven, I can’t believe I did that.”

Rick started after her, then stopped at the door, and over his shoulder asked, “By ‘that child,’ you mean Cass’s sister?”

“No, I mean Cass. Bastard stabbed her in the chest five, six times, left her for dead. It’s a miracle that she lived. I still don’t know how she survived.”

“I’ll need to see that file as soon as you can get your hands on it. Today if possible.” Rick closed the door and went in search of Cass.

He found her in her office, seated at her desk, the lights off, the window shades drawn. He could think of nothing to say that could possibly comfort her or matter to her, so he said nothing. He merely pulled up the chair at the desk she’d offered to him several days ago, and waited for her to come back from wherever it was her memories had taken her. He was pretty sure it was no place good.

They sat in silence for almost twenty minutes before his cell phone rang. He answered it, listened intently, then said, “We’ll be there. Thanks.”

Cass raised her eyes to meet his.

“That was Mitch. Dr. McCall—the profiler we told you about—has had a change of plans and can’t be here until around two o’clock tomorrow.”

Cass nodded absently.

“I’m going to want to tell her everything that’s come out today. Including the fact that you were on the scene when your mother was murdered.”

“I wasn’t there,” she told him, her face still white, her eyes huge and round and haunted.

“But Denver said you’d been attacked . . .”

“I came into the house after it was over.”

“But you saw him.”

She shook her head. “I don’t remember. It happened so fast. He was just a blur.”

“All the same, Annie is going to want to talk to you about it.” And probably more than that, he knew, but he’d leave all that for Annie to go into.

“In the meantime, what would you like to do?”

“Do?” She frowned, as if not understanding the word.

“How would you like to spend the rest of the day? Is there someplace you might like to go?”

She thought about it for a moment, then held out her hand. “Give me the car keys. I’ll take you.”

Rick had no idea where they were headed. All he knew was that right now, Cass appeared to be in a somewhat fragile state of mind, and he’d go wherever she wanted to go if that would help keep her together until Annie arrived. As a psychologist, Annie was much better able to handle this, she’d know what to say and what not to say. For the most part, Rick just wanted Cass to hang on for another day. He leaned back in the passenger seat and waited until they arrived at their destination, wherever that might be.

They were several minutes out of town, on a road that was edged on both sides by marsh. Tall cattails crept to the shoulder of the road on the right side. A mile or two down the road, the cattails began to recede and they came to a clearing. In the center of the clearing sat a house with cedar shingles weathered to a rich brown. Cass turned into the drive and turned off the ignition. She got out of the car without a word and Rick followed.

The house had obviously been abandoned long ago, as had the boat that sat dry-rotting on cinder blocks near a dilapidated garage. A rusted child’s swing set stood at the far end of the yard, the swings long gone, and around the foundation of the house, stubborn flowers bloomed in spite of years of neglect.

Cass went directly to the back steps and sat down on the second step from the bottom. Rick sat next to her, and she moved slightly to the left to accommodate him. They sat in the same way, he noticed. Feet on the step below, arms resting on their thighs.

“Where are we?” he asked, knowing that whatever this place was, it was important to her.

“My house.”

“Your house? This is where . . . ?”

She nodded.

“No one lives here?”

“Not since then.”

“Who owns it now?”

“I do.”

“You do the outside work?” The grass had obviously been cut recently.

“I have someone do that every week.”

He looked over his shoulder and studied the structure.

“I guess you’d have to do a lot of work to sell it.”

“I wouldn’t sell it. I’d never sell it,” she said quickly. “It’s all I have left.”

“You think you’ll move in someday?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t even been inside since that day. I went straight to my aunt and uncle’s after I was released from the hospital.”

“Has anyone been inside?”

“Maybe my grandparents, while they were still alive. The police gave my grampa the key when they finished up. I found it on a hook near the back door after he died.”

“Where’s the key now?”

She dug in her pocket and pulled out her key ring.

“Right here,” she said. “I know what you’re thinking. You think it’s stupid to hold on to a property for all these years if you’re never going to do anything with it. Several acres of ground, this close to the bay, it does have great value, I know that. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve been offered for it. But I can’t bring myself to live here, and I can’t bring myself to part with it. I can’t go inside, but I can’t stay away. It’s the last place we were a family. The last place I saw them.”

Cass looked over her shoulder at the house. “Sometimes I think they’re still here, just inside the door. Sometimes I think I see my mother at one of the windows.”

She glanced at him, looking for a reaction.

“You must think I’m loony.”

“I can understand why you would want to see her. I can understand why you would look for her here. Whether you sell the house or keep it, whether you go inside or not, it’s no one’s business but your own. If it comforts you to sit here, that’s what you need to do. You suffered a terrible loss, Cass.” He reached over and took her hand. “Denver told me about what happened to you. I’m sorry. I don’t even know what to say, how to say how sorry I am for all you went through.”

She nodded an acknowledgment and stared out at the cattails.

“When I was little, the cattails didn’t come up so close to the back here. They did on the side, but out here, out back, it was open all the way to the marsh. There are tidal flats back there, and Lucy and I would use pieces of wood to make little bridges so we could walk out there. We had a plank we carried with us to put down; we’d walk across the water, pick up the plank, and take it with us to the next little stream . . .” She paused, remembering. “Sometimes the mosquitoes would be so fierce. And the flies! Oh, man, we would get those green flies out there . . . big enough to lift you up and carry you out to the bay. We’d come in some days covered in welts, and my mother would dab at the bites with calamine on cotton balls.”