Vail 01 - The 7th Victim (33 page)
There was no one around this time of night, other than a few new agents sitting in the commemorative hall, telling stories of their days as a beat cop or detective or attorney . . . now in training to become one of the elite law enforcers in the world.
Vail found the maintenance engineer and sweet-talked him into letting her into the library for a while. She told him the truth about locating the mother who had abandoned her, and being the sap that he was, he felt sorry for her and pulled out his ring of keys. That was forty-five minutes ago, and rather than stopping to read through the results popping up across the screen, she printed the pages to make the most efficient use of her time. Even at that, it was taking longer than she had anticipated.
While waiting for the computer to finish the last search, she pulled her cell phone and dialed the hospital. Nothing new to report, she was told by the desk nurse. Jonathan had continued to open his eyes, and had moved them a bit—more “incremental improvement”—but that was all she could tell her. Vail thanked the nurse and watched the last of the search results flicker across the monitor.
She hit PRINT, then waited by the mammoth HP LaserJet for the document. As the papers emerged, a wide yawn spread her lips. Fatigue had finally set in. She would go home, get some sleep, and review the paperwork in the morning.
There was nothing else demanding her time at the moment.
thirty-six
G
o ahead, grab her hair and stab the eyes. Stab, stab, stab! Do it!
o ahead, grab her hair and stab the eyes. Stab, stab, stab! Do it!
Grasp a handful of straw dry hair, lift the head, then plunge the knife down into the eye. Squish!
Look at yourself, don’t be blind. Look up, into the window, and see. See for yourself.
After letting go of the knife, the slime from blood and eye juice spatter trailed off the fingertips like saliva from a hungry wolf salivating over its prey. Straightened up . . . looked into the dark window across the room. It was her. Again. Karen Vail in the reflection.
You killed your mother. How does it feel?
Vail craned her head down and tried to look beyond the knife protruding from the right socket, but she couldn’t see the face. She moved closer for a better angle. She killed her mother?
Yes, the bitch had to die. You did it, you did it, you did it. . . .
THE MORNING SUN burned away the clouds that had been hovering over the region the past couple weeks. Vail couldn’t help but think the lingering haze had become a symbol of her misfortune. Perhaps the break would bring the promise of new opportunities, of a reversal of her bad luck.
Of course, first she had to get past the image of having murdered her mother. She needed to do something, talk to someone about it. These dreams had to stop.
While driving to the hospital, she called her Aunt Faye, who had taken on the task of finding an assisted care facility in the Alexandria region. Based on Emma’s long-term care coverage, Faye had narrowed the list of possibilities to three, and it was now in Vail’s hands to investigate each one to determine which would best accommodate her mother’s needs. In the meantime, rather than move Emma out of her familiar surroundings, Faye’s three daughters were taking turns staying at the house to make sure Emma ate regularly and did not wander off. With a backyard as large and wooded as hers, she could get turned around fifty feet from her house and forget how to get home.
Vail arrived at Fairfax Hospital and carried in with her a sampling of Jonathan’s favorite childhood books:
The Hobbit, Old Yeller, The Phantom Tollbooth,
and one he had been in the middle of when he was hospitalized: the seventh
Harry Potter
tale. She brought a thermos of coffee and sat beside him, at first just looking at him, his eyes opening and closing, tracking back and forth, as if his brain was taking in the surroundings but not processing what it saw.
The Hobbit, Old Yeller, The Phantom Tollbooth,
and one he had been in the middle of when he was hospitalized: the seventh
Harry Potter
tale. She brought a thermos of coffee and sat beside him, at first just looking at him, his eyes opening and closing, tracking back and forth, as if his brain was taking in the surroundings but not processing what it saw.
She read to him for an hour, then took a break and dove into the task of making screening calls to the three assisted care facilities. Based on the attitude of the staff and level of service provided, she immediately eliminated one of them. The other two would work, subject to a records search for pending complaints and violations.
She gave Jonathan a kiss, told him she loved him, and headed out for lunch with Bledsoe. They met at a Subway restaurant a mile from the op center. His face was long, but when she walked in his expression brightened. He stood as she approached the table.
“Whatever you want, it’s on me,” he said.
“Tuna on wheat, everything on it.”
He nodded, turned to the counter person and put in the order. Bledsoe watched through the display case glass as the woman slapped on tomatoes and sprinkled oil. “How was your visit with your mother?”
“She’s got Alzheimer’s. It’s bad, I’ve got to move her to an assisted care facility.”
Bledsoe sighed. “Sorry.”
“Me, too. I wasn’t prepared.”
“Must’ve been tough.”
“Add it to the list.” She considered telling him about Nellie and Emma, then thought better of it. “I thought I needed some time by myself, but given everything that happened, I’m glad Robby was there. Thanks for letting him go.”
Bledsoe eyed her obliquely. “I didn’t.”
“You—”
“We didn’t quite see eye-to-eye on the matter. He told me he was taking some personal time and walked out.”
Vail chewed on that one. Robby had led her to believe Bledsoe gave his blessing.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “He and I had a chat. It won’t be a thing between us. We’ve got bigger issues to tackle.”
“Yeah, about that . . . sorry I didn’t show up this morning,” Vail said.
He turned his head to face hers. “You’re on leave.”
“From the Bureau, not from the task force.”
Bledsoe moved a few steps down, paid for the sandwiches, and loaded them on a tray. “Linwood and the police chief wanted you off the case.”
Vail slid into a booth and sat down. “Guess I’m bad publicity. Beating up your husband doesn’t play well in the papers. Too much fallout.”
Bledsoe unwrapped his sandwich and pulled off the pickles. “I told her no pickles. You heard me say that, right?” He shook his head.
“You have to close this case,” Vail said. “I make your job easier—and probably faster. And a faster resolution means fewer women die. You need me.” Vail bit into her sandwich and let her comment ride on the wind for a moment.
“They made it pretty clear they want you to stay away.”
“Do you want me to stay away?” She had stopped chewing and focused on his eyes.
“No.”
“I work for the victim, Bledsoe. Not the government, not you, not the police chief.”
“I know that.”
“Then to hell with ’em all. Let me work the case. I’ll do it at home. Get me a copy of the file, we’ll work it together.”
Bledsoe took a bite and looked at Vail as he chewed. She returned the gaze. Pleading without speaking. He finished off his sandwich a few bites later, then took a long pull from his Coke.
“Okay,” he said.
“You’ll get me a copy of the file?”
“I’ll bring it by your place myself.”
She nodded. “Keep me up on what the task force does.”
He wiped his mouth, then got up. “Thanks for meeting me for lunch.”
“Thanks for paying. And for sticking with me.”
Vail watched Bledsoe walk away, knowing she had done the right thing for the victims. But she couldn’t help wondering if it was the wrong thing for her career.
thirty-seven
T
here was a sunset for the first time in weeks, and Vail pulled over to the side of the road to watch the reds burn into oranges, then fade into an expansive horizon of pale pink, as if God had blown brilliantly colored chalk dust off the palette. She pulled down on the gear shift and yanked it into drive, then got on I-495 toward 193 and Great Falls, Virginia.
here was a sunset for the first time in weeks, and Vail pulled over to the side of the road to watch the reds burn into oranges, then fade into an expansive horizon of pale pink, as if God had blown brilliantly colored chalk dust off the palette. She pulled down on the gear shift and yanked it into drive, then got on I-495 toward 193 and Great Falls, Virginia.
She turned on the radio, not bothering to change the station—it didn’t matter what was playing, because she wasn’t listening. It merely served as background noise to take her mind off where she was headed, and what she would say when she got there. As dusk descended, she turned on her headlights and exited at Georgetown Pike. The area of Great Falls was a sprawling community set amongst rolling hills, forests of mature oak and helm, and million dollar homes.
As Vail drove down Potomac River Road, darkness’s arrival seemed to accelerate, the remaining light filtered by the dense blind of branches and leaves. She hung a right onto a shoulderless single-lane residential road and flicked on her dome light to check the directions she had scribbled on a piece of paper. The house on the left was an Early American three-story brick mansion. Vail squinted at the lamppost, which lit an address sign surrounded by well-manicured hedges. She turned onto the gravel driveway that cut through an expansive lawn and led straight to the entrance of the home.
Security lights popped on as her car approached the circular turnaround. She parked and got out, walked up to the door, and pressed the bell. A hearty chime sounded up and down the scale. Ten seconds passed, but it seemed like minutes before the hand-tooled oak door finally swung open.
Chase Hancock stood there, eyebrows raised slightly. “Vail, what are you doing here? Come to beg your way back onto the task force? Or did you come here to kick my butt?”
“That’s funny, Hancock. I’d prefer the latter, but it’s none of your business why I’m here. Is Senator Linwood in?”
Hancock squinted. “Are you here on official business? Otherwise, call ahead and make an appointment.”
Vail forced a smile. “Thanks so much for that thoughtful bit of advice, but I’m not in the mood for your bullshit. My
business
is with the senator, not with you. Now move aside or I’ll move you myself.”
business
is with the senator, not with you. Now move aside or I’ll move you myself.”
Hancock stepped forward and threw his chest out. “You’re trespassing, Vail. I suggest you turn around and leave with your tail between your legs before I arrest you. Citizen’s arrest, I can still do that.”
“That won’t be necessary.” The voice came from behind Hancock. Vail craned her neck around his wide body and saw Eleanor Linwood standing there, still dressed in her business suit.
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