Death Angel (28 page)

Wanting to forget the whole incident,
she decided to go to the health club. She’d gone back to swimming laps several
weeks earlier, and she knew the exercise would be good for her.
 

It was seven o’clock when she returned
to the house. Rain blew in giant sheets as the full brunt of the storm hit
Pickard. Shaking out her umbrella, she propped it in the corner of the foyer.
She was almost lightheaded from her workout. She’d run for an hour on the
indoor track before she went down to the pool. It was satisfying to note that
she hadn’t even been breathless when she finished her laps.

The phone rang as she entered the
kitchen. It was Leidecker.

“I hope I’m not getting you at a bad
time,” he said.

“No. This is fine,” she said, her heart
beating rapidly at the sound of his voice.

“Good. If you’re going to be home for
awhile, I’d like to drop by.”

“It’s raining.” It was a stupid comment
but she couldn’t think of any polite way to put him off. She waited but when he
didn’t say anything, she grimaced. “I’m here now, but I may be going out
later.”

“Actually, I’m just leaving.”

He had already hung up before she could
respond. She had just flipped on the front door light when she heard the sound
of a car. She unlocked the front door as footsteps hurried up the walk.

Leidecker stood in the rain. Kate clung
to the edge of the door, blocking his entry.

She saw his eyes flicker past her
shoulder to the dryness of the hall, but still she didn’t move. She didn’t want
him inside the house. With Richard gone, admitting Leidecker seemed an act of
disloyalty.

“May I come in?”

Leidecker’s deep voice broke through
Kate’s paralysis. She stepped back and jerked the door open.

“I’m sorry,” she said, glancing at the
water streaming down his face. “I think the storm has me spooked. Come on back
and you can dry off.”

She hurried to the kitchen, got out
several clean towels, and handed them to Leidecker.
 

He wiped his face, toweled his hair, and
then combed it with his fingers. Wet, his hair was dark brown, the gray more
prominent. In casual clothes he was far less threatening. He brushed the water
off the shoulders of his shirt and then dried off his arms, blotting the watch
on his wrist.

“Is it working?” she asked guiltily.

He looked across at her, raising an
eyebrow as he caught her intonation. He didn’t speak immediately but when he
did, a hint of amusement was in his voice.

“It takes a licking but keeps on
ticking,” he said. “I never had much use for expensive watches. All I want is
one that tells me the time. My wife wanted to buy me a Rolex once. I should
have realized then how incompatible we were. If I had, I wouldn’t have been so
surprised to end up divorced.”

“I didn’t know you were divorced,” Kate
said. “I’m sorry.”
 

Her apology came from a sense of
self-reproach because, even though she had known Carl prior to Jenny’s death,
she had never taken the time to learn anything about his personal life. In her
defense, he was a private man. His air of professional distance did not invite
questions.

“It was a long time ago,” he said.

“Do you miss being married?” Her own
loss made her ask the question.

“Strangely enough, the thing I miss the
most is going to movies.” His voice was reflective. “It’s not the same watching
videos.”

It surprised Kate to discover a softer,
more sensitive side to Carl. He appeared almost approachable and she took
advantage of it.

“Any kids?”

“No. It’s my one regret. I wanted a
batch of them, but after the divorce I discovered she’d been taking birth control
pills the whole time.”

“Didn’t she want children?”

“Yes. She just didn’t want them to grow
up fatherless.” He smiled in response to Kate’s obvious bewilderment. “She
never could get used to my being a cop. She focused on the danger. Every time I
went to work, she was sure she’d never see me again. She wanted me to give it
up, but law enforcement suited me.” He shrugged. “At any rate, she remarried.
Her husband works for a company that makes computer software. Safe and
financially rewarding. They live in Chicago and have two kids. Boys.”

Suddenly he stopped talking. He blinked
his eyes, looking nonplussed by his own candor. He turned away, dropping the
towels on the countertop.

“Can I get you anything?” Kate asked to
bridge the awkward silence.

“No. I’m fine.” He reached into his
pocket and withdrew a small plastic bag. “I came over because I wanted to
return this.”

He held it out and Kate could see inside
the gold necklace with the angel charm that she had given him after Jenny’s
death. She’d forgotten all about it; another event in her life she’d blocked
out. She took the bag, closing her fingers over the necklace. It was several
long seconds before she could speak.

“Thank you. I’m embarrassed to say, I
forgot all about it. Eventually I would have missed it, but there’s been so
much . . .” She left the thought unfinished. Without opening the plastic bag,
she put it in her pocket. “Did you ever find Jenny’s bracelet?”

“Not yet. I’m convinced that if we find
the murderer, we’ll find the bracelet.”
 

She nodded, at a loss for words. Sensing
that he had more to say, she waited. He leaned against the counter, crossing
his arms over his chest.
 

“I also wanted to stop by to talk to
you. I’m going to release a statement to the press.”

Kate tensed at the professional edge to
his words. Leidecker was back in his role of police chief. “Has something
happened?” she asked.

“No.”
 

The expression on his face made her legs
tremble. She read compassion and regret. Pulling out a chair, she sat down at
the kitchen table. “What does the statement say?”

“That’s why I came. To tell you.” His
voice was gentle. “The task force that was put together at the time of Jenny’s
death is being disbanded. Priorities are changing. There are very few new
leads. It’s a matter of sifting through the material we already have.”

“You’re closing the case?” She couldn’t
believe what she was hearing.

He shook his head. “No. We’re not
closing it. We’ll still be following up on all the loose ends until we get some
kind of a break. At this point we have no proof against any of the suspects.”

Pausing, he waited to see if she had any
other questions. When she remained silent, he continued. “Despite the fact
there is no body, the official statement will say that Richard is missing,
presumed dead. His death is being ruled a suicide.”
 

She heard the words but at first the
ramifications did not penetrate. When they did, she leaped to her feet,
marching over to stand directly in front of him.

“You can’t do that. Richard never would
have committed suicide. I told you that before. Oh God, Carl, you can’t do
this.”

“In this case, I can’t do anything else.
The coroner has made the ruling, based on the evidence we have.”
 

“But don’t you see that once you make
suicide an official ruling, the consensus will be that Richard killed Jenny and
the jogger, and then couldn’t face the consequences of his actions.” She
gripped her fingers tightly together and pressed them against her chest.
“You’ll blacken his name forever. Damn it, Carl, you might as well close the
case. The real killer will never be found. Everyone will be so convinced of
Richard’s guilt, they’ll see every fact merely as confirmation of their
prejudice.”

“I realize you’re disappointed.”

“I’m not disappointed! I’m furious!”

Kate wanted to hit Leidecker. Instead
she vented her frustration on the wet towels. She swept them off the
countertop, and, with a slapping sound, they hit the wastebasket, tipping it
against the wall.

Without comment, Carl walked over and
straightened the wastebasket. He leaned over and picked up the towels, setting
them back on the counter. His face was closed, eyes shadowed.

Furious, she snapped out the words, “You
couldn’t find anything to prove that Richard was involved in Jenny’s murder,
could you?”

“No. But we didn’t find anything to
prove he was innocent either.”
 

“Go away. I have nothing more to say.”
She turned her back on him, trying to get her anger in check.
 

“Honest to God, Kate, the case is not
closed,” Leidecker said. “I swear to you I’ll be working on it until we know
exactly what happened to Jenny. I’m leaving my personal card on the counter.
There’s a number where you can reach me, night or day.”

She didn’t move when he left. She
listened to his footsteps as he walked through the house. He closed the door
quietly but her ears were straining so hard she recognized the sound of the
latch clicking into place.
 

It was over.

Much as she had prayed since Richard’s
disappearance, God had turned a deaf ear to her. And no matter what Leidecker
said, as far as she could see, there would never be an answer to the most
important question.

Who killed Jenny?

A deep sadness overcame her anger. She
knew from experience that the reporters would call to hear what she thought
about Leidecker’s statement. She pressed the button on the answering machine so
that it would automatically pick up. A business card lay on the counter, blank
except for Leidecker’s name in large black letters and a phone number. She
picked it up and crumpled it in her hand.
 

Upstairs in the guest room, she kicked
off her sandals and crawled under the comforter. Her head touched the pillow
and she closed her eyes. Sleep dulled the edges of her emotions, and she
gratefully surrendered to the oblivion.

In her dream, Jenny was calling and
waving her arms. The bracelet on her wrist glittered with the movement. The
guardian angel was clearly visible. The charm grew larger, until it was
life-size. She couldn’t see Jenny anymore. Only the angel.

The angel’s arms were spread apart.
Reaching out to her. The wings fluttered then began to beat the air with
frantic strokes. The face of the angel grew dark and menacing. Kate tried to
run but her feet kept sliding on the surface of the ground. She looked back
over her shoulder.
 

Huge wings blotted out the light from
the sun. The angel’s flowing draperies changed from light to dark. The
black-robed figure was gaining on her. A wall rose up before her, blocking her
way. She whirled to face her pursuer, seeing the skull-like face of death.

The death angel loomed over her and she
woke.

She lay under the comforter, shivering
in reaction to the dream. Then she remembered Leidecker’s visit.

It wasn’t as if she was surprised that
the police had signed off on the case. She had been expecting it. The newspaper
articles had indicated a lack of movement on the case. It was the announcement
that Richard’s death was being called a suicide that really hurt. It was
tantamount to a judgment of guilt.

It was a convenient verdict to a case
that had no conclusion.

She must have dozed because when she
woke again the morning light was streaming in the window. She squinted to focus
on the face of the clock on the dresser.
 

Eight o’clock! She bolted upright. Good
Lord! Leidecker’d left about seven-thirty. She’d slept for close to thirteen
hours.

She showered and made the bed, finding
Leidecker’s business card among the bedclothes. She propped it against the
phone beside her bed. Maybe when she was less angry with him, she could call
him for updates on the investigation. At least that way he wouldn’t be able to
forget it.
 

Downstairs, the light on the answering
machine blinked insistently. She listened to the messages. Some were hang ups,
but the others were from reporters wanting to know if she could be reached for
comment on Chief Leidecker’s statement.

She was just rewinding the tape when the
phone rang and without thinking she raised it to her ear, relieved when she
heard Mike’s voice on the other end.

“I was just going to leave a message on
the answering machine. How come you’re home? I thought you were a working woman
these days.”

“I am. Or at least I was,” she
amended.
 

“Oh?”

“It’s a long story that can wait for
another time. How are you? How was the convention?”
 

“Good. I just got back yesterday. L.A.
was cooler than this. It’s stinking hot outside. The air’s so heavy with
humidity that it’ll add at least five strokes to my golf game.” Mike snorted in
annoyance. “I called to see if you wanted to have dinner with me tonight.”

She hesitated, wondering if he too
wanted to discuss the police statement. “Not tonight. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be
good company.”