Tough Customer (31 page)

"The risk was worth it to him," Berry said. "He wanted me to find Sally. That was part of my punishment."

After a short silence, Allen said, "The murder scene will give us more to go on, but we gotta find it first."

"We have," said Somerville, whose bass voice was in keeping with his muscular build. He held up his cell phone. "Just got a text. Detectives at Sally Buckland's house found blood in her bed. Lots of it. Soaked into the pillow. Also residue that looks like semen on the sheets. Which is consistent with what the coroner saw on the remains, on and around--"

"Thanks, Detective," Allen said, cutting short the chilling report from his subordinate.

But enough had been said to make Caroline King go pale. Berry pressed her fingertips into her eye sockets. Dodge muttered under his breath, then said, "I gotta smoke," and left through the back door.

As Ski stared at the top of Berry's bowed head, he thought about what Somerville had told them and related it to the photographs taken of Berry in her bedroom and while sunbathing, how beautiful and unaffected she'd looked, how unaware and defenseless. He struggled to maintain a professional detachment, but it was impossible. He wanted to hunt down Oren Starks and hurt him. Bad.

He said, "Detective Allen, when you get the ballistics report on the bullet that killed Ms. Buckland, I'd like to compare it with the one that killed Davis Coldare."

"You'll have it as soon as I do."

Berry said, "Don't forget to tell him about the message."

Ski looked at her, then at Allen. "Message?"

The detective said, "The body was zipped into a garment bag. One of those like my wife stores winter coats in. Rod inside, big hook attached to the top."

Ski nodded.

"On the outside of it, there was a message printed in blood, apparently Ms. Buckland's."

"What'd it say?"

Ski had addressed the question to Detective Allen, but it was Berry who replied in a bleak voice. " 'Sally has you to thank.'"

Shortly after that Sally Buckland's body was removed from the house to be taken to the morgue, and the CSU team went into Berry's bedroom to do their scavenging for evidence. Somerville excused himself to take a telephone call, and, when he returned to the kitchen, he informed them that Sally Buckland's car had been found in a vast multilevel parking lot in Houston's famed medical district.

"The entry ticket was in the console, stamped seven-seventeen yesterday evening."

"Several hours after I talked to her," Ski said.

"Security videos have this man--" Somerville held out his cell phone so Ski could see the freeze-frame photo that had been texted to the detective.

The image was grainy and blurred, but there was no doubt that the man behind the steering wheel was Oren Starks. "That's him."

Somerville then held his phone so Berry could confirm the identity. She rolled her lips inward and nodded.

"This was taken as he entered the parking garage," Somerville continued. "But Starks wasn't picked up on cameras inside any of the buildings in the complex."

"He'd left another car parked nearby," Ski said. "Presumably the maroon Toyota."

Somerville said, "The patrolmen who discovered the car said there are traces of blood on the driver's seat and in the trunk. Looks like Starks killed Ms. Buckland at her house, brought her here in her own car, drove it to the garage, and abandoned it there, where it could have remained for a while without causing suspicion. Patients and family members sometimes stay for days in those treatment centers."

"Starks made the swap inside the garage and drove the other car out," Allen said.

"They don't take photos of cars as they're leaving," his partner added. "More's the pity."

Allen noticed Ski's frown. "What, Deputy Nyland? You don't like that scenario?"

"Yeah, I do. Except, that would mean that Starks had parked a car in the garage in the medical district, walked to Sally Buckland's house, where he killed her and picked up her car. Right?"

"I reckon."

"Okay. From the medical district to her house is a distance of what? Two miles at least?"

Somerville gave a negligent shrug. "Thirty-minute walk."

"For you and me," Ski said. "But not for a man with an injured leg."

"He told me it was black and blue and swollen," Berry said.

"A limp wouldn't have attracted much attention in that area," Somerville said. "Lots of rehab clinics. Day surgery places. People on crutches, wheelchairs. A guy with a limp wouldn't have attracted attention."

"I guess," Ski said, but still with doubt. "That's a lot of walking for a man with a bum leg." He explained that Starks had walked almost a mile from the abandoned Toyota to Walmart in Merritt. "Part of that was over rough ground and in the dark. If you're right, he did that
after
walking from the medical district to Sally Buckland's house. Not only that, why did he make the car switch? Why use Ms. Buckland's car to move her here? Why not the Toyota?"

"He didn't want the Toyota to be seen by any of her neighbors, who could later identify it," Somerville said.

The detective's explanation was thin but logical, and Ski didn't have a better one.

"What's the skinny on that Toyota?" Allen asked.

Ski said, "The VIN has been scratched off. The license plate belongs to a blue 2001 Taurus in Conway, Arkansas. One of our deputies talked to the owner. He was recently in Houston, had his license plate lifted while he was here, but he's not sure where or when the theft took place."

"Starks was laying his groundwork."

"Apparently. But it wasn't too smart of him to return to Merritt last night after killing Sally Buckland," Ski said. "He had to know that every peace officer in deep East Texas was on the lookout for him with a warrant for his arrest for the lake house shooting. Yet after stashing Buckland's body here, which seems another reckless thing to do, he went back to Merritt and hid in a ratty motel. What the hell for?" He shook his head in frustration. "Doesn't make sense to me."

"He had unfinished business in Merritt," Berry said softly. "

Has,
that is. I'm still alive."

Caroline hugged her closer. "Is that all for now, Detective?"

They wrapped up with Allen and Somerville. As they congregated at the front door to exchange contact information, Ski noticed Berry staring down the hallway toward her bedroom. When she came back around, there were tears in her eyes. It would be a long time, if ever, before she could go into that room and open the closet door without remembering the gruesome discovery she'd made. Oren Starks had contaminated her home, too.

As Caroline and Berry went through the front door, Detective Allen detained Ski. "Another sec, please, Deputy?"

"Sure."

"Who's the character?" Allen nodded through the open doorway toward Dodge, who was standing just inside the yellow crime scene tape, smoking and chatting with a uniformed Houston police officer.

Ski replied, "He's a private investigator, working for Ms. King."

"He's packing."

"He's licensed to carry."

"So he said."

"Then what's the problem?"

The detective shrugged. "I don't know. Is there one?"

"No. He's sound. He was a former cop here in Houston. When did you join the force?"

" 'Eighty-six."

"You missed each other. He left in 'seventy-nine."

"Any particular reason why?"

Ski glanced beyond Allen and saw Somerville propped against the entryway wall, intent on his cell phone. "Have you got your man there checking?"

"I do, yeah." Allen smiled, but not with humor.

"Dodge had some insubordination issues, but he wasn't fired. He left by choice."

"Good. A police department doesn't need a man like that."

Ski locked gazes with him and, in a steely voice, said, "You're right. It needs a thousand." He let that sink in, then said, "Excuse me."

By the time he rejoined Caroline and Berry, Dodge was also walking toward them. Ski could tell by his expression that he had acquired new information. "What?"

Dodge glanced warily at the women. Caroline said, "Don't spare us weakhearted females, Dodge. What did you learn?"

He took a final drag on his cigarette and flicked it into the gutter. "That officer was one of the first responders. Talkative guy." He looked at Berry and asked a question that seemed out of context. "Did Sally Buckland have any boyfriends?"

"Not that I know of. Another man wasn't the reason she rejected Oren. Why?"

"Because this cop told me that the only thing on her body was one piece of jewelry. A silver link bracelet."

Berry's face drained of color. "With a heart-shaped charm."

Dodge looked hard at her, then at Ski, who answered his silent query. "Starks gave Berry a bracelet like that."

He didn't expand on it. He didn't need to. They all realized the significance of the bracelet. Oren Starks was fixated on two women to whom he'd given identical pieces of jewelry. Both had rejected him. One was dead.

"By the way, Berry, you called it," Dodge said. "You were afraid for her. I'm sorry I read it wrong."

"Same goes for me," Ski said.

"Neither of you could have saved her," she said sadly. "She was long dead before Oren used her cell phone to call me."

Before more could be said, Caroline intervened.

"Berry needs to be put to bed. What hotel have you booked us into, Ski?"

"A Sheraton only a couple of miles from Delray. Busy hotel. I wanted you where there'd be a lot of people."

Caroline placed her arm around Berry's waist and guided her toward her car. The men fell into step behind them.

"I'll lead you there, but stay close," Ski said to Dodge, who would be driving Caroline's car.

"Put your cherry on the roof. That'll make you easy to follow."

"I don't want to be followed." Ski hitched his chin.

Dodge looked in the indicated direction and saw what Ski had: a TV news van trying to nudge its way between the emergency vehicles.

CAROLINE HADN'T EXPECTED SKI TO ACCOMPANY THEM TO the hotel, but she was glad that he did. She was so fatigued she could barely put one foot in front of the other. Berry looked ready to drop. Ski's authority cut through the tedious process of checking in. Once he introduced himself to the manager, the man personally escorted them to their rooms, where he assured Ski that Berry would be safe.

"They're checked in as 'special guests,' Deputy Nyland. No names."

"If someone finds her here, media included, media
especially,
I'll know where the tip came from." The message was subtle but effective.

The man quailed and became even more anxious to please. He filled the ice bucket in each of the connecting rooms and readjusted the thermostats to suit them. Noticing the pack of cigarettes in Dodge's breast pocket, he said tentatively, "These are nonsmoking rooms."

Dodge gave him a drop-dead look and deliberately removed his jacket so the man could see that he was armed. Quickly the hotelier wished them a good night and scuttled out.

Berry actually jumped when her cell phone rang. All of them tensed as she read the caller ID. "It's not him," she said, her shoulders slumping with relief. "But I need to take the call. Excuse me." She went into the bathroom for privacy. Caroline noticed that Ski stared hard at the closed bathroom door for several moments before turning away.

With each passing hour since Berry had been told about Davis Coldare, Caroline had watched her becoming more withdrawn. On the drive down to Houston, she'd been unusually quiet and contained.

Caroline supposed her daughter's disassociation was due to the series of traumatic events. But she wondered if there was more to it. Berry was entitled to her privacy, but harboring something for too long was often detrimental. Caroline questioned how long she should wait before inviting Berry to confide what was so obviously troubling her.

Ski and Dodge examined all the door locks to make certain they were adequate, then stepped out onto the balcony, ostensibly to check the connecting rooms' level of security, but Caroline could hear them in whispered conversation.

When they came back inside, she was standing with her hands on her hips and greeted them with a demand to know what they'd been whispering about. "Tell me. Neither Berry nor I wishes to be cosseted."

"What's that mean?"

"You know what it means, Dodge," she said irritably. "What's going on?"

"Media's on the story," Ski said.

Caroline groaned.

Dodge said, "Bloodthirsty jackals."

"According to people in my office, Sally Buckland's murder was a break-in headline," Ski told her. "Viewers are being promised they'll have the complete story on the ten o'clock news. They showed exterior shots of Berry's house. The CSU van. Allen and Somerville looking stone-faced as they left the scene. We got Berry out of there just in time. The reporter at the scene said she was un--"

"Unavailable for comment." Berry stepped through the bathroom door and tossed her cell phone onto the bed. "Which, of course, makes it sound as though I have something to hide. No one
asked
me to comment, not that I would have
wanted
to comment, but the phrase certainly has a negative connotation, doesn't it?"

"How'd you hear about it?" Ski asked.

She pointed at her cell phone as she sat down on the edge of the double bed, put her elbows on her knees, and her face in her hands. "God, is there no end to this nightmare?"

Ski waited a few beats, then said, "You're identified as the daughter of the real estate moguls, that's a quote, Caroline King and the late Jim Malone, which gives you a sort of celebrity status because their names are so familiar. The shooting at the lake house was referenced."