Senseless (26 page)
It was a painting of the devil. “Right.”
Pain all but dulled her mind to any clear thought as she looked up and saw Josiah standing over her. He was smiling. And then just as quickly, he staggered forward as blood rushed from his head.
Eva’s fingers tensed around the strap of her backpack. She tried to hold on to the flash of memory, but it vanished as quickly as it came.
“I got to say, Mr. Creepy has had his share of visitors this week.”
“Who else has been here?” Garrison said.
“Well, there was that guy just the other day. He was asking questions about the girl that killed Mr. Creepy. He kept asking if we knew were she lived now. Very weird. I called security on him.”
“He leave?”
“Oh, yeah. Ran out of here quick.”
“You said there was someone else?” Garrison prompted.
“Yeah. A weird old guy. Our week for weird guys, I guess. I didn’t see him but Missy down the hallway did. This guy kept talking about sinners must atone. Again, we called security, but he ran off.”
“What did she say about him?” Garrison said.
“Hey, I don’t want to creep your sister out with tales of creepy guys. Price is really a nice school. People care about you here.”
Garrison pulled out his badge. “She’s not my sister and I’d like to talk to Missy.”
Monday, April 10, 4:00 P.M.
Eva and Garrison drove back to Alexandria. On the way, he called his partner and told him to meet with Missy and a police sketch artist.
They drove to the police station where Eva’s truck was parked. Garrison got out with her and walked her to her truck. She unlocked it and opened the front door, pausing as he stood by her. Heat and energy radiated from him and the urge to touch him toyed with her. What would those arms feel like wrapped around her?
Dark sunglasses tossed back her reflection as she stared up at him. “Thanks.”
“Thank you.” He leaned forward a fraction, one hand resting on the open door and the other on the roof of the truck. “I want you to be careful, Eva. I’m going to put a patrol car out in front of King’s, but I want you to be cautious. ”
“Hey, I’ll be fine. I’m an ex-con and I’ve got eyes in the back of my head.”
His jaw tensed. “I’ll be by to see you as soon as we get a sketch. I want you to look at it.”
“Okay.” She wanted to lean forward and kiss him. Not a chaste simple kiss but a full on-the-mouth kiss. She wanted to know what he felt and tasted like. Instead, she nodded and slipped behind the wheel of her truck. He closed her door and watched and waited as she drove away.
Garrison standing in the parking lot was the last image she had in the rearview mirror before she rounded the corner.
Eva arrived back at the pub just after four and was behind the bar and ready to work fifteen minutes after that. As much as she tried to immerse herself in the work, her mind kept drifting back to Price. Who was so interested in her and Josiah?
When she heard the bells above the threshold jingle, she glanced up and tossed the customer a smile as King always asked:
Greet ‘em. They won’t forget you when you do.
The tall, lean man entered the pub, scanning the crowd until his gaze settled on her. She raised a hand, signaling she’d be right over.
He nodded and waited, cool and relaxed as he surveyed the room. When she’d refilled drinks at table six and given change to table five, she hurried up to him. “Here for dinner?”
“I am.”
“How many?”
“Just one.”
“Follow me.” She grabbed a menu and guided him to a corner booth. When he’d sat, she took his drink order and promised to return. When she set his drink down in front of him, she pulled out her pad. “So what can I get you?”
“Reuben on rye will do it.” He closed the menu and looked up at her, his gaze skimming her name tag. “Doris. You don’t look like a Doris.”
“I get that a lot.”
“No seriously, I know people and names and you are not a Doris.”
“Blame it on my folks.” Chatty customers were fine on slow days but the late evening crowd had grown and she didn’t have time for small talk. “Be right back with that Reuben.”
She moved around the pub, filling drink orders, collecting tabs and wiping up spills. Nonstop motion didn’t ease the feeling that the corner booth’s customer’s gaze was on her.
Be careful.
Garrison’s words rattled in her head. When his order was up she moved toward him more carefully and mindfully this time. He was blond. Attractive. Button-down rolled up to his forearm. Smooth fingers. She’d never seen him before.
When she set the plate in front of him, she paused. “Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so.” His eyes danced with a good humor that undermined her suspicion. “Maybe I just have one of those faces.”
“Yeah, maybe. Can I get you anything else? More beer? Mustard?”
“No thanks, Eva.” His gaze pinned hers as if waiting for a reaction.
Energy bolted through her limbs. “What did you call me?”
“Eva.” His grin widened. “It’s your name.”
“I never told you my name.”
“I know.” He picked up a chip and popped it in his mouth.
“Were you at Price asking questions about me?”
He nodded, pleased with himself. “I do get around.”
She clutched her round serving tray close to her chest. “Who told you about me?”
“Your sister, Angie. She told me all about you.” He winked and glanced down at the plate. “Looks delicious.”
A sudden chill cooled her body. “Who are you?”
“I’m Connor Donovan. I’m a writer. I wrote a lot of articles about you a decade ago.”
She took a step back. “I don’t talk to reporters.”
“I know. You refused all my interview requests when you were in jail.”
The earth seemed to shift under her feet.
“Did you kill those two women because they fingered you as Josiah’s killer?”
Pain squeezed her heart and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. Angie wouldn’t do this to her. Would she? “I don’t have anything to say.”
He stood abruptly and blocked her retreat. “Come on, Eva, help me write a follow-up. You were a hot item back in the day. This is your chance to tell your side of the story. I’ve read the transcript of the trial and all the old articles. I can see that you were railroaded.”
The bait dangled on the tip of his hook and she knew if she bit, she’d suffer. “Go to hell, Mr. Donovan. Leave now or I’m calling the cops.”
“I’m not breaking any laws.”
“You are now a trespasser. King’s reserves the right to refuse service and we are refusing you service. Leave.” Her hands trembled as she grabbed his plate from the table and marched across the room to the bar. Unmindful of the customers trying to catch her eye, she pushed through the swinging door that led into the kitchen. “King!”
He glanced up from a pot of stew. She recapped what had happened. “You say he’s got to go, then he’s got to go.”
She dumped the sandwich in the trash. “Deduct the cost out of my paycheck.”
“No need for that, kid.”
“God, I can’t believe she’d do this to me.”
“Who?”
“My sister, Angie. She told that Connor guy all about me and where to find me.”
King looked startled, and as if remembering pulled a crumpled slip of paper from his pocket. “You got a call today. From your sister.”
She glanced at the scrawled words. “Angie. Shit.” No time on the note. “What time did she call?”
“About one. Sorry, I just forgot.”
Some of her anger vanished. “I can’t read your handwriting, King. Is the last digit of her phone number a seven or a five?”
He shrugged. “I’ve no idea.”
She groaned. “King.”
“Baby, I got alligators biting on my ass right now. I don’t know. And I got three orders you need to serve before they get cold.”
Frustrated, she shoved the slip of paper in her pocket. Bobby came down the backstairs, a new book in hand. “Eva, what is this word?”
Her head spun and she glanced at the word marked by his pudgy fingertip. “Sound it out like I showed you.”
“Te. Te. Technology.”
“That’s right.”
He smiled up at her, such trust in his eyes. And again, she feared for Bobby. With someone like Connor Donovan snooping around, no telling how long she could keep the boy safe.
King barely noticed the heat from his stove, the noise of the exhaust fan or the rumble of the crowd in his restaurant. For a moment, he stood as still as stone, replaying what Eva had just told him. A reporter had tracked Eva down to his restaurant. Reporters meant attention and attention often led to trouble.
Slowly, he stirred the stew. He’d spent a lot of time and resources pulling events together and now that shit head Donovan was going to muck it up. His first inclination was to track the guy down and beat the piss out of him.
Which might provide King with a moment’s satisfaction but in the long run would only cause him trouble.
King shoved out a breath. He’d weathered a lot of shit in his life. So had Eva. So had Bobby. They all could survive an article or two. And then when the chaos died down again, people would forget about them and he could follow through with the next step.
Kristen sat in the park by the river staring at the slow, meandering waters of the Potomac. A gentle spring breeze flowed past. Couples strolled the path. Kids on bikes rolled past. Laughter swirled around her head.
She’d been thrown off by Eva Rayburn’s visit but had planned to fly to New York, more determined than ever to get out of town and forget all about Alexandria. But a few hours ago, she’d gotten a call on her private cell.
“Do you want to see your baby?” the caller had said.
Your baby.
“How’d you get this number?”
Laughter crackled. “Friends. Do you want to know about the baby?”
“I don’t have a baby,” she’d said.
“Yes, you do. Only, he’s not a baby now, is he?”
She’d gripped the phone silent, unable to speak and unable to hang up.
“He’ll be in the Riverside Park tomorrow about two if you want to see him.”
The caller had hung up, leaving her dazed and rattled. As much as she’d wanted to leave town, she’d been unable to get on that plane.
Now, here she sat on a park bench staring at the old worn photo in her hand. She’d carried the picture tucked deep inside her wallet for over a decade and the frayed edges reflected the wear and tear.
She traced the lines of the newborn’s face.
Kristen would have been so much better off if she’d never met Josiah Cross.
During that year she’d made a series of bad decisions, starting with pursuing Josiah Cross. He’d been considered the catch and she’d wanted what she’d perceived as the best. “Be careful what you wish for,” her mother used to say. They’d been dating four months when she’d found out she was pregnant. She’d hated and resented a lot of things in her life, but she’d loved her son from the moment she’d known he was inside her. She’d have dealt with the devil to save him.
“Sign the paper, Kristen. “ Her mother’s urgent whisper still echoed in her head. “Sign it!”
“Mom, he’s my son,” she’d said, crying.
“That baby is going to ruin your life, Kristen. Honey, we want you to go to graduate school, to marry well and to have a promising career. ”
“A lot of women have babies out of wedlock and raise them.” And with Josiah dead, she’d be free to raise her son.
Her mother gently stroked her hair. “That’s not an option for people like us. More is expected of us.”
Through watery eyes she looked up at her mother, feeling her father’s intense stare from across the room. “He’s your grandson.”
“I’ll cut you off completely if you keep him,” her father said. “Sign the papers.”
Her mother smiled weakly. “He’ll be better off. You’re making the right decision.”
Better off.
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Kristen.” The voice came from behind her.
Swiping away the tears, she turned. “You’re the one that called me.”
“I have news of your son.”
Kristen rose. “Tell me.”
“He’s over here. Follow me.”
“You found him?”
“Yes. I’ve got to take him to his parents, but you can see him before I do.”
Oh, God, but she wanted to just see him. How many nights had she lain awake wondering what he looked like? Did he have her nose? How much of Josiah was in him? She’d moved heaven and earth to see that Josiah would never be in the child’s life.
Kristen had done so much to keep her son safe.
Since Eva’s visit, she’d been plagued with worries that Eva would remember the details of the fire.
Had Eva figured it out?
Kristen stood, her legs unsteady and her heart pounding in her chest. Her hands trembled with a heady excitement. Worries about her secret, the murders, even her upcoming marriage all faded as she thought about her son.
“He’s in the van by the playground,” the caller said, pointing.
Kristen looked ahead to the black van. “What’s his name?”
The van door automatically opened. “Ask him yourself.”
Kristen moved toward the van and leaned into it, searching the seats for her son. At first she thought she might be missing something, and then she realized he wasn’t there. Anger burned through her. “What kind of game are you playing? ”
A sharp needle jabbed into her back and she could feel the hot rush of fluid into her body. In a matter of seconds, her mind slipped into blackness.
Tuesday, April 11, 8:00 A.M.
Eva arrived at the law offices of Wellington and James just after eight. She’d opted to walk the ten blocks, hoping she’d have time to soothe her temper. She buzzed the front bell.
The receptionist looked at her on the video monitor. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m delivering a subpoena for Luke Fraser, LTF Processing.” The white lie would get her inside.
“Sure.”
The door buzzed once and Eva yanked open the front door. In the reception area, she immediately felt out of her depth. Rich carpets, old world paintings on the wall and crystal lamps created the impression of money.
“What do I need to sign?” the receptionist said.
Eva lifted her chin, not bothering to slow her pace. “I’m actually here to see Angie Carlson.”
The woman shook her head. “I’ll sign for her.”
“No worries. I’m her sister.” She moved toward the hallway that led to the back. “Which office is hers?”
The woman arched a brow. “Angie doesn’t have a sister. And if you don’t stop right now I’m calling the cops.”
“You do that.” She glanced in an office on her left.
“Look, I’ve known Angie for a year and she’s never mentioned a sister.”
“She’s got one and she’s just about ready to find out how pissed she really is.”
“That’s it,” the woman said, bustling ahead of Eva. “Get out.”
“Nope. Angie!”
The older woman hustled into a side office and picked up a phone. The cops would no doubt be here in minutes.
“Angie!”
Seconds later Angie emerged from the office at the back of the hallway. Hope and confusion flickered in her eyes. “Eva.”
“You might want to talk to your receptionist. She’s calling the cops on me.”
Angie rolled her eyes. “Iris! Don’t call the cops.”
Iris hung up her phone and appeared at the end of the hallway. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“She says she’s your sister.”
Angie nodded. “She is.”
Iris arched a brow as her gaze shifted to Eva and then back to Angie. She didn’t say anything but Eva guessed that Angie had some explaining to do.
Angie motioned Eva toward her office. “Come in here.”
Eva moved inside the office, clutching the strap of her backpack. Angie’s office was just as elegant as the front office. “I know you’re pissed about me not calling you, but did you have to dish dirt to your writer boyfriend?”
Angie folded her arms over her chest. “I called you yesterday. Didn’t you get my message?”
“King didn’t give me the message until late. After your boyfriend paid me a visit. ”
Angie frowned. “Connor came by?”
“Oh, yeah, and he was full of questions. Why’d you rat me out to him?”
“I didn’t. I didn’t know who he was at first. He said he was in town on business.”
“Yeah, he was in town on business, all right. The business of writing a story on the Cross family.”
Angie’s face tightened with hurt and anger. “Like I said, he lied to me. We’d just seen each other and I was hurt. I said my sister and I had had a fight. That’s all I said.”
The tightness in Angie’s voice said more than her words. Donovan had hurt and humiliated her. And in that moment the bluster she’d been chewing on since last night vanished. “Did you tell him where I worked?”
Angie thought for a moment. “Yes. Shit. Eva, I am sorry. I wouldn’t have said anything to him if I’d known what he was after.”
An awkward silence hung between them but neither could cut through their own emotions to speak for a moment.
Eva shifted her stance. “Donovan came by the pub last night. He pretended to be a customer.”
“He’s a dick.”
That nearly coaxed a smile. “Why’d you get tangled up with him?”
Dark circles hung under Angie’s eyes. “Momentary lapse in judgment.”
“You didn’t sleep with him, did you?”
“Like I said. Bad judgment, all around. Won’t happen again.”
Eva suddenly felt angry for her sister who’d been betrayed by a man she’d taken to her bed. “We’ve all had those moments. The trick is to get smarter and savvier so it doesn’t happen again.”
“Let’s hope.” Angie frowned. “Getting a hold of you yesterday was a bear. You should carry a cell.”
“I promise to get around to it.”
Angie moved toward her desk. “I have an extra one.”
“Thanks, but no. I’ve managed just fine so far.”
Angie opened the top desk drawer and pulled out a cell. “It’s a little large and clunky but it still works.”
“I don’t want your charity.”
“It’s not charity.”
“It’s free. You feel sorry for me.”
Angie crossed the room and held out the phone. “Eva, two women are dead. Two of those women you once knew. Take the damn phone until this nutcase is caught. ”
Eva didn’t budge. “I don’t need anyone to look after me.”
“We’re sisters,” Angie said softly. “I couldn’t help ten years ago, but I can help with this small thing now. The phone. Please.”
The “Please” is what got her. Eva reached out and took the phone. “Only until the killer is caught. And I’ll pay you for any calls.”
“You can try, but I won’t take your money. Just say thank you, and shut up.” She rattled off the phone’s number.
Ignoring the jab of emotion, Eva tried to inject a bit of smartass into her voice. “I can see you’re still as bossy as you used to be.”
“And you’re still as distrustful as you ever were.”
Eva smiled. “Maybe.” She held up the phone. “Thanks.”
“No sweat.”
“I’ve got to go.”
“Call me sometime. We can have lunch.”
“Let’s do lunch?”
“I mean that. I want us to at least try to be friends.”
“Okay.” No tearful reunion, but a start.
When Eva got back to the pub, King sat in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee. He leaned over the morning paper, his brow furrowed. “You’re not going to like this.”
“What am I not going to like? ”
“This article on page two of the
Post.”
“Please tell me that the byline is not by Connor Donovan.”
“How’d you know?”
“Remember, he was here last night.” She peered over his shoulder and read the headline.
SERIAL KILLER LINKED TO SORORITY HOUSE MURDER
. “Oh, God.”
“I knew what I was getting into when I hired you.” King glanced up at her. She braced for anger or recrimination. But she saw no traces of either. “Luke Fraser called. He says you’re fired.”
“Right.” Luke didn’t like attention, and now for her next Fifteen Minutes of Fame she’d be an attention magnet. “Are you canning me, too?”
“No. No, I’m not.”
“Why not? ”
He shrugged. “I like you. You’re a good kid. Knew it from the minute I saw you at that halfway house arguing with the attendant about clean water. Besides, how the hell am I gonna run that fancy computer system you installed if you don’t stay?” His voice had softened and lost a good bit of bluster.
“You’d figure it out.”
“Maybe, but I don’t want to.”
Her throat tightened with the sting of emotion. Twice today people had reached out to her. “But we have a bigger problem.”
King cleared his throat. “Bobby.”
“Social Services might have an issue with my background.”
“You served your time, Eva. You’re free and clear as far as the law is concerned.”
“Still, they can be funny about that kind of thing.”
“I’ll handle them.”
She nodded. “Reporters will be snooping around. My story was huge back in the day.” A heavy weight settled on her shoulders. “I can call Social Services.”
“No. Let them call us. I like the kid and won’t give him up without a fight. ”
Macy sauntered into Garrison’s office and tossed a file on his desk. “Whoever did the investigation on your fire was an idiot. ”
He lifted his gaze, immediately intrigued. “Tell me.”
She sat in the chair across from his desk. “It makes no sense to me.”
“Explain.”
“I looked at the pictures and I read the report. They don’t match.” She leaned forward and opened the file and pointed to an image of a burned-out structure. All that remained was a charred brick foundation. “See that black smudge in the corner of the foundation.”
“Sure.”
“That’s the fire’s point of origin.”
He studied the image. “The investigator said the point of origin was the fireplace on the first floor.”
“No. This fire started in the back of the house by the back door. Those black scorch marks indicate intense flames.”
“Like the shelter fire.”
“Exactly. Someone tossed accelerant by the back door and set the place on fire.”
“Witnesses said that Eva hit Josiah and then used the burning logs in the fireplace to set the blaze.”
Macy shrugged. “Unless she ran outside, set the blaze and then ran back inside, she did not set that fire.”
“Which means she may not have killed Josiah.”
“That, my friend, is for you to figure out.”
The homicide team assembled less than a half hour later in the conference room. Garrison sat at the head of the table. Malcolm sat on his right, Rokov on his left. Sinclair had been summoned and promised to show as soon as she could.
Rokov folded large arms over his chest. “I get why Danvers is up there. He likely saw the killer, but why the other stabbing victim? She had no brand or apparent connection to the other cases.”
Garrison sat back in his chair studying the image of Eliza Martinez. “Her wounds are too similar to Danvers. Four stab wounds to the chest.”
“So why no brands?” Malcolm said.
“Like Danvers, Eliza Martinez was in the way. Her killing, in the killer’s mind, wasn’t personal,” Garrison said.
Malcolm snorted. “We did a full background check on Martinez after she died. Nothing came up.”
The door to the conference room opened and Sinclair entered. Her cheeks looked flushed and her eyes bright with excitement. She held Lisa’s journal in her hand. “Sorry, I’m late. I’ve been working on Lisa Black’s journal, based on the theory that it’s a ROT13 code.”
“And?” Garrison said.
“You were right. That was the code.”
“Good.”
“You won’t believe who she hooked up with last spring.”
Garrison leaned back in his chair, his body tense. Sinclair grinned like a contented cat. “Darius Cross. They were lovers. Here is her March 7 entry from last year.
I had too much to drink and told Darius who I really was. He went ballistic and hit me because I’d lied to him. When I thought he’d hit me a second time I told him The Secret. His face paled. He dressed and left and I never saw him again.
“The Secret. Could it be Kristen’s pregnancy?” Malcolm said.
“Macy said she didn’t think the sorority house fire started by the fireplace,” Garrison said. “Maybe The Secret was bigger than that. Maybe Lisa or one of the other girls set the fire. Maybe Eva Rayburn doesn’t remember killing Josiah because she didn’t.”
“Have a look at the sketch artist’s work,” Malcolm said. He opened a file and slid the sketches across the desk. “The first visitor is clearly Connor Donovan. He was doing a little research on his story.”
Garrison studied the very accurate sketch. “Let’s hope the other sketch is as accurate.”
Malcolm pushed it toward Garrison. “Hard to say.”
This guy had a beard and glasses but his face was small, even delicate. “I feel like I’ve seen this picture before, but I can’t place him.”
Malcolm nodded. “I had the same feeling.”
Garrison’s mind flipped through the facts of the case. “Remember the bartender at Moments mentioned that Lisa’s older boyfriend had a driver?”
Malcolm nodded. “Sure.”
“Let’s assume the older boyfriend was Darius and the driver was his.”
Malcolm snapped his fingers. “Drivers hear a lot.”
Garrison rubbed the back of his neck. “Rokov, see if you can track down this driver. Let’s see what light he can shed on this family.”
Kristen woke in stages. At first she thought she’d had another bad dream about her baby. She dreamed about him a lot lately. His cries filled her nightmares and she always found herself searching the darkness for him. But no matter how much she called out to him or how many bargains she made with God, she never found the boy.
But as she opened her eyes, she knew immediately that something was terribly wrong. She lay on a concrete floor and thick chains held her hands and feet to the ground. In the far corner a darkened figure sat next to a hearth where a fire blazed.
Panic burned through her body. She tugged at her chains, testing, hoping she’d be free and discover this wasn’t real. The rattle of the metal links echoed in the room.
The figure didn’t turn but stoked the embers of the fire. “Good, you’re awake. And just in time.”