Rogue

by Izzy Gomez

  A whisper of a smile flickered on Gabby’s face. “I know. I won’t either.” She made an effort to squeeze Amanda’s hand. Her head lolled to the side as she closed her eyes. “I think I need to take a nap.”

  And Amanda needed to...move. Needed to find her brother and make him answer for everything he’d done.

  “Promise me you’ll give a statement to Detective Williams when you wake up?” Amanda smoothed Gabby’s bangs back from her face. Her skin was cool. They had matching bruises under their eyes, although Amanda’s was fading while Gabby’s shone brand new.

  Gabby nodded faintly. “I will. Can you tell the nurse I need more pain meds?”

  “Sure.” Amanda walked to the door, then turned back to Gabby. “I promise, Todd’s going to pay for what he did to you. For what he’s done to all of us.”

  Chapter 21

  “My brother did it. You want Todd.”

  Todd? Didn't the guy have a solid alibi?

  Greg looked up from the report he was reading. Amanda’s eyes were flat, her face lined with exhaustion as she dropped into her chair. She forked her fingers through her hair, brushed it out of her face, then turned to her computer.

  “What the fuck are you talking about, Schreiber?” Voegler said from his desk. He’d been hunting and pecking away at his keyboard but stopped to stare at Amanda.

  “We know it wasn’t Hank. Who else could it be?”

  Greg put down the report and rolled his chair to Amanda’s desk. The possibility had occurred to him, but for Amanda's sake he'd tried not to look too closely at Todd. Still, he'd made a few calls yesterday to people attending the conference with Todd. Turned out no one remembered seeing him at any of the talks. He'd been around at breakfast and in the evenings, but never during the day. Bloomington was less than ninety minutes away; it wasn't unthinkable that Todd had driven back and forth, attempting to cover his tracks.

  “What happened with Gabby?” Between this case, worry for Amanda, and two cups of coffee on an empty stomach, his nerves were shot. From her desolate expression, this revelation wouldn't help.

  Amanda buried her hands in her face. Her shoulders rose and fell as she drew several deep breaths. Finally she looked up and met his eyes. “Todd raped her. My big brother raped—“ Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “Raped my best friend.”

  The series of profanities flying from Voegler’s mouth turned heads all around the room and made Greg’s ears flush. Who knew Voegler possessed such creativity?

  “What the fuck is going on?” Voegler shoved his chair back from his desk and got up to pace. His barely contained fury resembled a caged beast.

  Greg understood the urge to move. Moving felt like doing something. Instead he reached for Amanda’s hand and said the only thing he could think of. “I’m so sorry.” Yet again, inadequate.

  She squeezed his hand and gave the most pathetic smile he could imagine. “Thanks. That really does mean something.”

  “Fuck!” Voegler smashed his fist down on his desk. Amanda jumped, along with Greg’s heart.

  “Jesus, Al.” She glared at him. “I appreciate the loyalty, but calm down.”

  Scowling, Voegler grunted and dropped into his chair. He immediately started slapping keys and grumbling at his computer.

  “What the hell is going on out here?” Capt. Brown bellowed from her office door.

  The already tense atmosphere ratcheted up a notch. Voegler ignored their boss as he vibrated with anger. Amanda didn’t answer either.

  Greg leaned back and turned toward their boss. “Break in the Schreiber case. Somewhat...unexpected.” And the award for King of Understatement goes to…

  Brown’s eagle-gaze flicked between him and Amanda. Finally she looked at Voegler, who was going to need a new keyboard at this rate. “Do what you gotta do. But I want an update by the end of the day.”

  Greg nodded and turned back to Amanda. “What did Gabby say?”

  “Todd raped her. They had...history of sorts.”

  Which could mean anything from a one night stand to a broken engagement. But specifics were irrelevant at the moment.

  “And he told her all kinds of awful things Karen did to him.” Her gaze flicked over to Voegler.

  He paused in his typing. “Keep going. I’m working on the warrant.”

  Pain rippled over Amanda’s face. Sympathy and anger battled for Greg’s attention. He did his best to channel it into his motivation for this case. As much as he wanted to rage like he had at home that morning, tantrums did nothing for Amanda. The way to help her was to find her brother.

  “He said he did this for me. All this,” she waved her arm in a half circle, “was for me. This chaos and destruction and death was for me. Raping my best friend? For me.” Her voice seethed with bitterness and her eyes grew moist. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes.

  Greg’s heart broke again. He understood the horrible guilt she must be feeling. His arms ached to pull her onto his lap, hold her and let her release her tears.

  Voegler’s keystrokes grew more forceful. He was going to pound the keyboard right through the desk.

  Greg's own patience reaching the end of the line, he stood and kicked his chair toward his desk. “Take it easy on that keyboard and just get the damn warrant done. Let’s get moving."

  Todd’s house was deceptively homey for a homicidal rapist. But how many seemingly normal people got arrested every day for atrocious crimes? Amazing what people could do when provoked.

  Todd clearly hadn’t redecorated much when he moved in. The décor was country kitsch, not bachelor doctor. The entry was done in a sunflower motif, leading into a living room with rooster wallpaper and checked curtains. Furnishing was sparse. Sofa, coffee table and a flat screen TV mounted over the fireplace. No magazines, no books, no pictures. Two remote controls on the table.

  “Does their fucking grandma live here?” Voegler yanked open the front closet door. Shoes sat on the floor and coats hung on hangers. Nothing unusual.

  Their warrant covered the whole house, the garage and the rest of Todd Schreiber’s property. They had a separate warrant for his office at the hospital.

  Dr. Russell had found two different sedatives in Karen’s system. The same two they'd found at Hank's condo. Ketamine and propofol. As a surgeon, Todd could easily have gotten ahold of them.

  Finding the sedatives in his possession would be solid physical evidence against him. Finding the knife he used would be like Christmas and Greg's birthday all in one. Finding a DNA sample they knew was his and could compare to the hairs from the two scenes would be better than a year of paid vacation.

  Finding the man himself would be winning the fucking mega-million jackpot.

  But they weren’t that lucky. They’d checked the house and garage before starting their search. No sign of Todd. Nor was he at the hospital. They’d issued a BOLO; hopefully he’d turn up soon.

  Greg followed a tech named Koepke to the kitchen. The walls were covered in checked wallpaper with an apple border at the ceiling.

  As soon as Greg saw the table, he almost whooped out loud. They couldn’t possibly be this lucky. This was Santa and birthday cake lucky.

  "Get a picture of this." Greg almost grabbed the camera from Koepke to do it himself. He wanted a look at that phone and he wanted it now. Toes dancing inside his shoes, he waited while Koepke took shots from multiple angles.

  As soon as Koepke stepped aside, Greg slipped on a glove and bent to inspect the cell phone. An iPhone with a white leather Chanel case. Exactly as Charlie described Karen’s phone. What were the odds Todd had the exact same phone cover?

  Without moving the phone, Greg slid his finger across the screen to unlock it. He guessed the passcode on the third try—the last four digits of the phone number. A quick flip through the phone’s settings confirmed it was Karen’s. “Bingo. We've got the phone.”

  Koepke looked up from a kitchen drawer. “I think I've got something too.” The stocky, middle-aged
man held up a knife.

  Similar to the ones missing from Hank and Charlie’s knife blocks. The one Russell said matched the stab wounds.

  Greg joined Koepke at the counter. Dark eyes squinted, Koepke inspected the blade. "Looks a little dull, but that could be from eating a t-bone as much as cutting a woman. We’ll have to do more tests.”

  “Voegler!” Greg called.

  “What?”

  To call Voegler’s tone surly would fall into the understatement category again. The man had a serious bug up his ass today. Probably more than one. Extremely large bugs.

  “We got something.” Easier to ignore Voegler’s mood. On his best day he still clocked in at grumpy.

  He stomped into the kitchen. “What?”

  Koepke held up the knife. “I won’t claim jackpot yet, but this could be your winning ticket.”

  Voegler grunted.

  Koepke glanced at Greg, gave the facial equivalent of a shrug and slid the knife into an evidence bag.

  “And I got Karen’s phone.” Greg hooked his thumb toward the table. “We can check the history, but I’m sure it’s got the text messages we received from her phone.”

  Voegler didn’t look at the table. Instead his brows dipped low over narrowed eyes. “I want DNA.”

  He stalked out of the room.

  "And I want a fucking unicorn,” Greg muttered. What the fuck was Voegler's problem? Someone would find a hair in Todd’s shower or his bed. And they’d match it to the others. Even if it wasn't DNA, they had experts who could say with a high degree of certainty the hairs came from the same person. Same way they'd linked the Schreiber and Ryder cases.

  Hell, they had guys who could get DNA off dirty laundry. Combined with finding the missing knife in his kitchen and the victim’s cell phone on his table–not to mention the statement from Gabby–they had plenty.

  Of course, what they didn’t have was their suspect.

  Greg pointed to the phone and said to Koepke, “Bag that.” He went to find Voegler. One of them should take a team and hit Todd’s office.

  He found Voegler going through the medicine cabinet in the half bath.

  “Detectives!”

  A voice came from upstairs before Greg had a chance to say anything. Without a word to Voegler, he started for the stairs.

  Patty Grand stood in the door of the upstairs bath, grinning. She loved finding slam dunk evidence. It was almost creepy how much she enjoyed it.

  “Do I win a prize today?”

  Definitely something off about Patty. “Depends what you got.”

  She held up a handful of vials. “Ketamine. Propofol. Empty. And a bunch of used syringes.”

  Why did people keep things like that around? He would never understand the criminal ego and its need to keep evidence.

  They could likely get DNA off the syringes and hopefully tie them to Karen and Hank. He had to remember to tell Russel to look for needle marks on Hank. And to test for ketamine and propofol on the tox.

  “Perfect,” Greg said to Patty.

  Her grin widened, displaying crooked teeth. “I aim to please.”

  Greg nodded down the hall. “I’ll check out the bedroom.”

  Voegler followed him into the only room in the house that hinted at a single male. The walls were white and bare. Cream-colored plastic blinds hung over the two windows. An unmade queen bed dominated the room. A cell phone charger and alarm clock sat on the nightstand. Loose change dotted the dresser next to a framed picture of Todd and Amanda.

  Greg picked up the picture. They were dressed up, Amanda in a bubblegum pink strapless dress, Todd in a tuxedo. Despite the decidedly non-Amanda color, she looked sexy showing all that skin, her hair swept off her graceful neck. Her eyes glittered as she smiled for the camera; she looked happier than Greg had ever seen her.

  Pain in his back teeth made him realize he was clenching his jaw too tight. He forced himself to relax. He would make sure she was that happy again. Even if their relationship didn’t last, he would give her the closure she needed on this case.

  Lifting the frame, Greg studied Todd. They’d only met briefly and Greg had been distracted by Amanda, so he hadn’t bothered forming an impression of her brother.

  Todd’s smile wasn’t as brilliant as hers and the stiffness in his shoulders said he was uncomfortable. But some people didn’t like having pictures taken. Greg had only worn a tux once and felt awkward the whole time.

  Horn rimmed glasses obscured Todd’s eyes so Greg couldn’t tell much except they were dark, like Hank and Charlie’s. Both men favored their father and Emily looked like Karen. Amanda must look like her long-lost mother.

  “They all grew up in the same house. I know Karen treated Emily and Hank different than Amanda and Todd,” Greg said, more thinking aloud than initiating conversation with Voegler. “But what did she do that made him go so far off the deep end? What made him a nut and not Amanda?”

  “What the fuck do you think you’re talking about?” Voegler's eyes glittered with anger.

  What the hell?

  “You think she’s one step from the loony bin too? You get off on that? That why you’re sniffing around her all of a sudden?” Voegler took a step toward Greg, his posture similar to when he’d been trying to intimidate a confession out of Charlie Schreiber. “You want crazy in your bed, you can forget about Amanda. She’s nothing like her clusterfuck of a family.”

  He was dangerously close to being in Greg’s space. The sudden confrontation whipped up Greg’s own repressed anger.

  “You don’t have a clue what the fuck you’re talking about.” He stepped forward, firmly in Voegler’s face.

  “I think, where Amanda’s concerned, I have a lot more of a clue than you.”

  Territorial pissing contest. Despite recognizing the juvenile nature of this display of ego, Greg couldn’t stop himself from saying, “I think I’m getting a clue just fine.”

  “She’s been my partner for four years. She’s been your fuck-buddy for a week.”

  Greg’s knuckles cracked as they connected with Voegler’s jaw. The sound was so satisfying, he didn’t mind the resulting sting. Voegler's knees hit the side of the bed and he went down.

  Greg probably should have been ashamed of the euphoria surging inside him. But he wasn’t. He was a guy and when pushed, he’d admit to his baser impulses. It felt damn good to slug a guy in the face every so often.

  Still, he was the new guy and didn’t need to make enemies. He dropped down next to Voegler and put his elbows on his knees. “Let’s get something straight. I’m not interested in Amanda as a quick lay.”

  Voegler snorted.

  He didn’t have to believe Greg. But Greg would say his piece. “There are a lot easier ways to get that.”

  Voegler got up and went to the dresser. He stood in front of the mirror, cracked his knuckles and watched his reflection as he moved his jaw from side to side.

  “I appreciate that Amanda has someone looking out for her the way her older brother clearly can’t. And I understand what it’s like to have your partner’s back on and off the job. But she’s a grown woman who can make her own decisions. My intentions are honorable. So back the fuck off.” Greg leveled his gaze on Voegler’s via the mirror.

  Voegler’s expression remained neutral, which for him was a baby-step above surly. They continued to stare each other down, until Greg’s cell phone cut through the tension.

  His caller ID read Amanda.

  “Speak of the devil.” Thumbing the decline button, Greg started for the door. “I’m going to go call her back. Take all the time you need. And when your head is back out of your ass, we should check Todd’s office. I think we can agree Amanda deserves closure on this. So let’s stop being assholes and get that.”

  The drone of her hairdryer almost drowned out the trill of her cell. Amanda shut off the dryer and grabbed the phone. The display read Unknown.

  Her stomach lurched in apprehension. “Hello?”

  “Amand
a.”

  Scream? Cry? Beg? How did she respond to her homicidal rapist brother? More importantly, how did she respond to the deep betrayal of her closest ally and best friend?

  “What do you want?” She kept her voice calm, neutral. A cop’s voice. Not a sister. It would take a long time for her heart to accept how things had changed. But in her mind, he was already a stranger. The Todd she’d known and loved was a lie.

  She put a hand on the vanity to steady her suddenly weak knees. Dammit, she was stronger than this.

  “You have to help me.”

  The stress and insanity of the past week caught up with her in that one sentence and she lost it. Hysteria burst free and she erupted into laughter. She had to sit down on her bathroom floor as she bent in half. “Help you?” she managed to gasp. “You have to be fucking kidding.”

  “I’m your brother.” He used the indignant voice he adopted when he thought he wasn’t getting the respect he deserved.

  Leaning against the bathtub, Amanda wiped the corners of her eyes. She had to get herself under control so she could listen for clues to his location.

  “My brother is gone. And from what Gabby tells me, never really existed.” Her throat and chest hurt saying the words aloud. Especially knowing she meant them.

  New tears formed. She pressed her thumb and forefinger to the inside corners of her eyes and squeezed. He didn't deserve the satisfaction of knowing how much he’d destroyed her.

  “Gabby,” he breathed. “How is she?”

  Rage spiked through her so fiercely, she pushed to her feet. “She’ll recover. No thanks to you, you sick bastard.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

  In the background, she could hear a low mumble. A TV? A restaurant? It wasn’t loud enough to be somewhere crowded.

  “Didn’t mean to? Is that why you used a knife? Why you knocked her unconscious? Hit her hard enough to lacerate her spleen?” She stalked down the hall to her office and pulled up her email program. Opened a new message to Greg, Al, O’Donnell, Capt. Brown and ADA Long. Marked it urgent.

  “I...got mad.” He was whining, the way he had when they were kids and Karen unjustly blamed him for something Hank or Emily had done. The old, familiar Todd hiding inside this stranger. The old, familiar Todd who was a fake.