Trial by Twelve

by Heather Day Gilbert

  “Don’t worry about it. Bartholomew will see her on rounds tonight and he’ll keep me updated till I get out of here. It’ll probably be in a day or two. Mercy only knows what this little hospital trip will cost me.”

  “Good thing you have insurance, girl.” It’s so wonderful to see that light in her eyes, to hear her smooth voice. “Oh! I have something to tell you about Teeny. I’m afraid he can’t be your boyfriend after all.”

  “Shoot fire! Tell me all about it.”

  Half an hour passes as I fill Charlotte in on the latest in the investigation. Finally, I fall silent.

  She grips my hand. “I know what you’re wondering. Did I see the guy?” She sinks back into her pillow, and I fluff it behind her head, careful not to brush the wrapped wound. She focuses on the ceiling. “I don’t think I did. It all happened so fast and my memories are taking their good old time coming back. But he must have snuck up behind me in The Haven parking lot. I remember this sharp pain and reaching back and feeling something sticky in my hair. Then somehow he got me into a car trunk. Maybe I passed out on the ground, I don’t know.”

  “A trunk? Just like we practiced?”

  She smiles. “Good thing we did, too. I came to and it was dark, but the car was moving and I knew I was in its trunk. I started feeling for the tail lights, but lo and behold, there was a glowing handle hanging down. It made it easy. So I waited until the car slowed, like it was reaching an intersection. I yanked that handle, the trunk popped up, and I kind of slung myself out of there, onto the pavement. He must have had the radio on because I was able to run off before he stopped.”

  “Did you get anything on the car? Did you ever see him?”

  She shakes her head. “I wish I had, but I didn’t have time to stop and read license plates, you know? It was a black car, I think, and I’d say it was a sedan because the trunk was pretty roomy. The only things I felt in the trunk were a blanket and an umbrella. I was so grateful there wasn’t another body! Anyway, I staggered off and wound up in some neighborhood that looked safe. I remember beating on someone’s door and that’s about it.”

  “That’s how they found you.” I wince as I picture Charlotte, blood seeping from her head onto someone’s front porch. “You kept it together well, girlie. Hey, did you know that even Rosemary came to visit you?”

  She grins. “You don’t say?”

  I tell her about Rosemary’s little sleuthing assignment to the computer store. “Hopefully she’ll get some dirt.”

  “If anyone can smooth-talk a man, I’m betting it’s Rosemary,” Charlotte says.

  The nurse comes in, ready to check vitals. She gives me a brief, dismissive nod.

  “I’d better go. Oh! Did you like your flowers?”

  “Yes, thanks so much. Bartholomew told me. I love the pink roses.”

  I laugh at her polite lie. “Not those, silly. Mine were a sore excuse for flowers and I promise I’ll bring you some prettier ones from home. I meant those orange ones Axel sent. Pretty impressive, huh? Helps to have connections with the biggie florists in the area, you see.”

  The nurse shoots me another look. I wink at Charlotte. “Gotta go. I’ll come over tomorrow, okay? And call if you need anything at all. Want me to check on your house?”

  “Should be okay until I get back. Thanks, Tess. Give my love to Mira Brooke and the family. Tell Nikki Jo she can stop worrying about me…but tell her she’s welcome to cook me a meal when I get home if that’ll make her feel better.”

  “Oh, you know she’ll be all over that.”

  Unwilling to say goodbye, I wave at her and linger in the doorway. She returns a weak wave as the nurse closes in with the blood pressure cuff.

  My heart feels so much lighter, I could skip down the halls. It seems things are coming together. Teeny has been busted. Charlotte is awake. I’m getting the list of names from Detective Tucker tonight so I can see if anything matches up with the letters.

  Sunlight blinds me outside, but I savor its all-encompassing warmth. The burbling fountain and twittering birds add to my contentment. We will catch this killer soon, I just know it.

  As I get closer to my SUV, something glints and catches my eye. Did someone attach something to my license? All my hopes melt into the ground as I realize what it is.

  An arrow, shot directly into my license plate. If it rips through metal like that, what would it do to me?

  28

  I DRIVE STRAIGHT TO the police station so they can get the arrow out and see if it matches the recent ones from Tawny and Melody. After taking time to fill out paperwork and answer a couple well-intended questions about my black eye, I’m finally cleared to return home.

  I had hoped to stop by the grocery store for a cake mix so I could make Heath-bit chocolate cake, but there’s no time. I’ll have to make chocolate-chip cookies or something fast for Detective Tucker’s visit. I need to let Thomas know he’s coming, but I have a feeling Thomas will be working late anyway.

  Nikki Jo meets me at the door, Mira Brooke on her hip. “Come right on back to the kitchen. I made us some blackberry cheesecake squares. Trying one of those Pioneer Woman recipes and law, if they aren’t scrumptious! I’ll send you some.”

  How is it that Nikki Jo always ministers to my spirit, not only with her words, but also with her food? She’s like the total opposite of my own mother.

  Mira Brooke leans over my way and I take her into my arms, kissing her repeatedly all over her flawless little face. I’m trying to forget the killer’s blaring warning message. That arrow said You’re not safe loud and clear.

  AFTER WE EAT A QUICK meal of spaghetti, I wash up Mira Brooke and get myself changed into nicer pants. Sure enough, Thomas is coming home late, so I’ll be on my own with the detective. I’m pretty sure he’s okay, but until we nail the killer, I can’t trust him completely.

  By the time the detective shows up around 8:30, Mira Brooke is already asleep due to her healthy dose of carbs. I’m wearing my Glock and Nikki Jo and Roger know who’s visiting. As a final precaution, I’ve enlisted Petey as my personal spy. The curtains are pulled back on my living room window and Petey can see right into it with his high-powered binoculars. If Detective Tucker makes one false move…I shudder to think what will happen. Roger has a regular arsenal up at the big house and he’s not afraid to use it.

  We enjoy some blackberry cheesecake squares and sip at our decaf coffee, reviewing Charlotte’s recollections and lamenting that she didn’t see the killer. When we finish, Detective Tucker pulls a list out of his Carhartt jacket and pushes it across the coffee table.

  “Not much to go on, I tell you, but I’ve written their names, ages, and where they went missing. Also listed any remaining family members we could find. They’re listed in chronological order, starting with that first death.”

  Reading down the list, I can’t believe how many victims there were. What triggered this person? And why did they choose these unfortunate women?

  Christine Colton, age 36, missing Orange Hill Road, CA, no survivors

  Penny Murphy, age 18, missing Hope Lane, CA, father and a brother still alive

  Julie Snyder, age 42, missing Crystal Cove, CA, no survivors

  Sofia Vasquez, age 23, missing Tucson, AZ, husband alive

  Kelly Sutton, age 32, missing Delta, CO, 2 daughters alive

  Christy Mann, age 46, missing Marion, KS, no survivors

  Anna Fontaine, age 27, missing Oak Grove, LA, parents alive

  Tammy Rogers, age 34, missing Blountville, TN, husband and son alive

  Melody Carroll, age 53, from Medford, OR, killed in Buckneck, WV, husband and daughter alive

  Tawny Creeden, age 42, missing Buckneck, WV, husband alive

  “And there were no similarities?” I ask. “Careers? The way they looked? The way they went missing?”

  “Still haven’t found a pattern. The only similarity is the location of those first three murders in California and we figure he probably lived there at that time. After
that, who knows? He might have moved across the US and just picked off someone new everywhere he went.”

  “And when were these murders?”

  “Spanned from the late eighties to the early 2000s—the last in that string being Tammy Rogers—then there was a break until Melody this year.”

  “Wonder what stopped him? Or her.”

  “I still don’t think it’s a woman letting those arrows fly,” he says. “Women killing women, much less in that violent way, would be highly unusual…though not impossible.”

  “It’s the not impossible that worries me, Detective. And none of these names connect with anyone in Buckneck?”

  “No. None of them had a child in the foster system, so that didn’t seem to link up with the letters we found. Of course, sometimes those things can be covered up.”

  I sigh. Why does the trail have to be so hard to follow? “Tell me more about the first victim. That has to be a clue…why he decided to kill that first time.”

  “Her police record is clean, and from the look of things, she wasn’t married. So I don’t know how that fits with any of the women mentioned in the letters.”

  “But there is a Julie in California. Is she the one who worked at Woolworth’s—the boss he resented so much?”

  “Could very well be, but it’s nearly impossible to follow-up since Woolworth’s closed in the nineties and they didn’t keep computer records for the most part. And we couldn’t find any of her survivors to ask.”

  “And what about the young girl…Penny Murphy? What if she was Sea from the commune? He seemed to despise her for setting him up.”

  “Her father confirms she’d already left home at that time, but he didn’t know where she was living. She could have easily used a pseudonym at the commune, but we’re having trouble locating anyone who knows about Hope’s Grove.”

  “The biggest question is what happened to the child? Was it a boy or girl? Did they have their father’s last name? Where are they now?” I pull my sweater tighter as the breeze in the window picks up.

  “My question exactly. In other words, are they in Buckneck, continuing their daddy’s mission? That’s what you’re wondering too, isn’t it?” He raises his bushy eyebrows.

  I nod and offer the detective another cheesecake square. He shakes his head, glancing at his watch. “Land sakes, it’s already 10:30. I need to get home for a shower.” He grins.

  “I hope you can sleep in your own bed tonight. Roughing it in this heat must be tough.”

  “The woods are never tough for me, Mrs. Spencer. And something tells me you could handle them just fine yourself.” I’m impressed by his accurate insight into how I tick.

  As he stands, the door opens and Thomas comes in, swinging his tie like a lasso and whistling “Livin’ on a Prayer.” He stops short when he sees the detective. “Oh! Detective Tucker. Didn’t realize you’d be here.”

  Detective Tucker smiles and shakes hands. “Your wife here treated me to some mighty fine dessert and I’m much obliged for all her help on this case.”

  Thomas smiles wanly, not at all enthusiastic about my participation. He rallies, though. “She couldn’t be working with a finer man.”

  Detective Tucker dons his hunting cap. “Thank you. And my congratulations to our new prosecuting attorney.”

  After he pulls away, I go out on the porch and make a thumbs-up toward Petey’s darkened window. I’m fairly certain he never abandoned his spy post because his light clicks on.

  When I walk back in the door, Thomas blocks the way. “Tess, I think it’s time you withdrew from helping Detective Tucker.”

  I grab his arms and shimmy into the living room, chilled from the unusually cool night air. “I’m just doing some of the brain-work, if you’d call it that. Putting things together as best I can.” I try to divert his attention. “Did you know Charlotte woke up? Our hands-on trunk escape training worked! That’s how she got away.”

  This provides ample distraction and we discuss Charlotte’s adventure for a while. By the time Thomas has eaten and snuggled with me on the couch, I decide it’s too late to bring up the arrow in the SUV. As Scarlett O’Hara says, “Tomorrow is another day.” I’ll deal with it then.

  29

  THOMAS LEAVES EARLY for work since it’s his final day. The sound of Buffy wakes me and I groan. Dani’s heard about Teeny by now and I’m guessing she’s not happy. Sure enough, she starts in on a diatribe the minute I say hello.

  “What is going on up there? Why didn’t Detective Tucker call me in before they booked Teeny? My spa is like a hotbed of crime. It’s like I’m being sabotaged!”

  If not for the drastically divergent nature of the crimes, I’d wonder myself. But pot and serial killing don’t seem to have much in common, at least at this juncture. Teeny seems more like a little boy who can’t stand up to Mommy…but then again, maybe that personality fits our serial killer, and that’s why he’s preying on women. But someone shot an arrow into my car and that person was not Teeny, because he was down at the police station.

  “Could we meet? I need to talk to someone,” she says. “I’m over in Point Pleasant today. You ever eaten at the Bistro Americain?”

  I chuckle to myself. “Sure have. Yes, we can meet up there for lunch. They make an amazing spinach ravioli.”

  “I only eat their vegan stuff, but I do love their portabella bacon cheeseburger. It’s tempeh bacon and cashew cheese, of course.”

  “Of course.” Mira Brooke wriggles to life beside me, rubbing her long dark eyelashes and gearing up for a cry. Thomas put her in bed next to me this morning but I didn’t even notice. I think my REM sleep starts at a weird hour. “I’ll meet you at one, okay?”

  I call Nikki Jo, worried about asking her to watch Mira Brooke again. I don’t want to impinge on her kindness, and yet she’d be babysitting if I were still working at the spa anyway. I know she cherishes every minute with her granddaughter, but what if she’s tired of it? Would she even tell me?

  After an enthusiastic okay from Nikki Jo, I get us ready for the day. Knowing Dani will be impeccably dressed, I try to up my game and wear something that looks a bit more put-together than normal. What this breaks down to is a khaki skirt, white polo shirt, striped tie belt which might be totally 2003, and sandals. The entire outfit shouts prep school in Connecticut to me, but it’s the best I can come up with. I put on liberal concealer and foundation to try and cover my bruised eye. Finally, I pull out my leather purse designed to hold the Glock and load that baby up. I’m going nowhere without my piece.

  I hate being so distracted, but I will be until they catch this killer. No one is safe. The fact that I was targeted with that arrow is disconcerting in the extreme.

  As I drive across the mountain, absently noting three random shoes pitched on the side of the road, I call the Good Doctor on speaker phone. “What’s the latest? Is she doing okay?”

  “Sure is. They’re actually letting her out today. She’ll be going over to see Miranda tonight. I thought it might be too draining, but you know Charlotte. There’s no stopping her when she’s determined to do something.”

  “Oh, wonderful! I’ll stop in then. I’m heading over to Point Pleasant for lunch—actually at the Bistro Americain—but tell her I’ll see her at The Haven.”

  “And tell Rosemary hello from me. She works lunch shift.”

  After I pull into an open parking spot on Main Street, I get out and catch that earthy, damp smell that means rain is on the way. The swift-moving charcoal clouds confirm it.

  Inside the bistro, Rosemary grabs my arm and steers me toward Dani’s booth, whispering all the way. “I met up with him. Stay after your friend goes and I’ll tell you about it. And what’d you do, run into a door? ‘Cause I know that ever-loving husband of yours didn’t pop you in the eye.” She smirks and turns before I have time to shoot her a glare.

  At our table, Dani looks like a million bucks, and the sight of that swanky ivory leather purse brings questions to mind about wher
e her money is coming from. Of course she has no husband or children to spend her income on, but still…has she been skimming a little from the marijuana business?

  Her usually clear blue eyes look red, and she’s sniffing. Either she has a cold or she’s been crying.

  “Tess. What have you been doing? Detective Tucker said you were there with Teeny yesterday. Meanwhile, he hauled me in and practically ran me through interrogation. I just don’t know what to think.”

  I focus on the flickering candle on our table, considering my answer. What have I been doing? Trying to help the women in this town stay alive—women like Dani. I’m tired of my boss’ vagueness. She wants info from me? She can share some info of her own.

  “Yes, I was there. And it seems to me that you might have been aware of Teeny’s gig. You seemed overly concerned about his off-the-books meetings. And Teeny once told me he thought the spa was ‘safe.’ Now why would a grown man use that word? I think you’re holding out on me.”

  Dani’s chin tightens and her eyes sharpen. She looks less like a vegan peacenik and more like a Marine. Such a dichotomy.

  “Aren’t you clever? I’ll lay my cards on the table. Yes, I knew about Teeny’s previous run-ins with the law. But I was willing to give him a chance to rehabilitate because, as you know, he’s the kind of masseuse who keeps the clients returning. Never too harsh or too gentle, he instinctively knows what each body needs. It’s a gift, and I was trying to encourage it so he could forget his past.”

  She takes a tentative bite of her vegan burger, then a couple more. My spinach ravioli is way too dry but I choke down a few bites, aware of Rosemary’s hawk-eyes on me.

  Dani continues. “Teeny was involved in drugs for a brief time in Kansas. I see that look on your face. Yes, people do use drugs in Kansas. He dealt a few drugs, got busted, then slunk back home to mommy. But as you probably guessed, Teeny’s mom is the last woman you’d want in charge of your rehab. When he applied for the job, I knew I was taking a risk.”