by J. R. Adler
Heavy footsteps pounded against the floor, across the kitchen, through the dining room, and into the living room. David stood in the doorway covered in mud and sweat and dressed in overalls. He gave Nicole a small smile.
“She said she wasn’t one for gossip.” Kimberley rolled her eyes. “It’s just a hunch.”
David looked at Kimberley, his face not as tense and angry as it was the night before. The vein in his neck and forehead had retreated. “Kimberley,” he said with a nod.
“David.” Kimberley nodded back while popping a piece of cheese in her mouth.
It seemed they were progressing into neutral territory, almost an indifference toward one another. Like they were neighbors that just happened to reside in the same house. He wasn’t yelling at Kimberley, and she wasn’t tossing around sarcasm and insult, so that was progress. A small amount. But as they say, progress is progress.
David walked to the coffee table with one step, and bent down, grabbing a handful of cheese and a vine of grapes.
“You look different.” He ran his eyes over Nicole’s face, popping several chunks of cheese into his mouth.
“She got her hair dyed. Isn’t is obvious?”
Nicole smiled, pushing up the ends with her hand like she was showing it off.
“Looks nice,” David said, pulling a grape from the vine with his teeth. He chomped down, popping the fruit in his mouth. “When’s dinner going to be ready?”
Nicole pressed her lips together for a moment. “About an hour.”
“I think it looks amazing, Mom,” Kimberley said, her eyes peering over the rim of her wine glass.
“Thank you. Now what were you saying about this hunch?”
David stood there, switching between eating a piece of cheese and a grape.
“I really shouldn’t be talking about an ongoing case.”
Jessica swatted Kimberley in the face. “More,” she demanded.
“Ouch. Don’t hit Mommy,” Kimberley said, handing her a piece of cheese. She immediately put it in her mouth.
“From what Michelle’s mom said, it sounded like this mystery man may be Isobel’s father,” Nicole said.
“Mom, stop.” Kimberley rolled her eyes.
“What? You’re not talking about the case. I am,” Nicole said lightly. “I thought Hannah’s ex, the boy who moved out to Texas was the dad. What was his name?” She scratched her head, trying to conjure it up.
“Nicole, Kimberley said she wasn’t allowed to talk about the case, so don’t put her in a position to jeopardize it.” David looked at Nicole firmly.
“Okay. Sorry.” Nicole dropped her shoulders.
David tossed the stripped grape vine on the plate and left the living room, heading down the hallway to his bedroom. If she hadn’t known it already, that interaction right there would have told Kimberley that David was former military or police. He put a heavy importance on confidentiality and tight lips, and Kimberley realized she hadn’t been doing the best job when it came to nondisclosure. In a city like New York, where there were thousands of cases going on, no one cared about chatter, but in this town, the town of Dead Woman Crossing, this was the case. Small towns brought out lots of talk and Kimberley wasn’t immune to it.
“Sorry, Kimberley,” Nicole apologized again.
“It’s fine, Mom. I wish I could tell you everything, but he’s right, I really shouldn’t be discussing an active case.”
Nicole nodded, topping off her wine glass.
It was true, Kimberley wished she could tell her mom everything, like how Hannah’s murder had brought up old wounds, how it had rattled her and made her sleep less… but it was like a slight tremor in comparison to the earthquake of a case that still haunted her every moment, whether she was asleep or not.
“Hey, Lynn. We finally tracked down Eddie Russo. We had no luck last night but got a tip today from the cook, Mario, and found out he was hiding at a friend’s house in the Bronx. We’ve got a patrol car bringing him in, and I’m not far behind with Shake Shack, your favorite. See ya soon,” Kimberley said, ending the call.
It was noon on a Friday, an absolute nightmare to drive in New York City, but she didn’t mind the traffic today. This case had haunted her for the past year and a half, and Kimberley felt like she was finally close to solving it, to finally getting justice for Jenny, Maria, Stephanie, and their unborn children. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of a catchy pop song that played quietly on the stereo.
“Dispatch. All units, 10-18 to 1058 White Plains Rd. Bronx, NY for a 187,” played over her police radio.
Kimberley looked at the sign, realizing she was just a couple of blocks away. She clicked the radio. “Dispatch. This is Detective King. I’m in route. 10-4.” She pulled up to an abandoned two-story brick house. The windows were boarded up with plywood and the front door was busted open. Nothing about it stood out as it looked like many of the other houses in the neighborhood. It was the perfect place to carry out a murder.
The open staircase creaked as she made her way down to the unfinished basement of an abandoned house. The musty, mildew scent invaded her nose before her boots touched the dirt floor. Her flashlight was the only light source.
“Careful, the last step is rickety,” an officer at the top of the stairs called out. He and his partner had been the first to arrive on the scene.
She skipped the bottom step, planting her feet firmly on the ground. A thick, black rat scurried across her boot. She was used to vermin, so Kimberley didn’t react. Her feet followed the illumination of the flashlight she was holding. Sticky cobwebs grabbed hold of her face, and she quickly pulled them off. In the far right corner of the basement, she shone her light, starting at the floor and working up slowly. First, she saw the feet covered in small burns and cuts. Her feet dangled above the ground as she was seated in a tattered chair. Her legs were equally inflicted with similar cuts, hundreds of them as though he had scored her flesh like a chef would with a piece of pork or chicken. She was stripped bare, no clothing, no jewelry, nothing, except for a paper bag that covered her head.
Kimberley walked closer, tucking the flashlight under her arm, while she slid on a pair of gloves. She heard footsteps upstairs as more officers arrived on scene. Stopping just in front of the woman, Kimberley slowly slid the bag from her head. Time froze. The bag floated to the ground as her fingers must have let loose. Kimberley began slowly falling away from the body, but she could feel no weight, like an object just being pushed away in space, two magnets with the same polarity. Her face caved in on itself, all of the muscles contracting as her heart beat at triple its speed and the pit of her stomach began doing backflips. Tears streamed down her face in a torrent. She must have finally made contact with the ground because she was now sitting and threw her head back as she wailed. Bile burned her throat and she vomited onto the dirt floor, screaming and crying, eruptions of emotion coming out in all forms.
Kimberley was pulled off the case after Detective Lynn Hunter was murdered. She didn’t know if that made it worse. Eddie Russo wasn’t the serial killer. He had solid alibis for three of the four murders. As he was on parole, his parole officer had verified his whereabouts. There weren’t any murders after that. He went inactive, as many serial killers do, as if taking lives was their job and they needed time off. Kimberley knew she would live with it for the rest of her life, losing her partner, her mentor, her best friend, and she would always blame herself for not protecting Lynn and her unborn child, Jesse.
32
“Hey, Barb,” Kimberley greeted, carrying in three cups of coffee in a carry tray and a bag that contained a large chocolate muffin.
She walked to the desk, setting down the brown paper bag and a cup of coffee. “I figured I’d bring you the coffee and baked good today,” Kimberley said with a smile.
Barb’s face lit up. “Oh my. You didn’t have to do that.”
She opened the bag, pulling out the oversized chocolate muffin. “No one’s ev
er brought me coffee or treats.” Her eyes moistened. “Oh, I hope you got something for Sam. It might make him a little less angry with you.”
“So, he’s heard?” Kimberley tilted her head.
“Everyone has. I don’t blame you. If I had the strength, I would have done the same,” Barb said.
“Thanks for the heads up.”
“Oh, wait!” She bent down beside her desk, pulling a butter knife out from a drawer. She sliced the muffin in half and wrapped part of it back up, putting it in the bag. “This will help.” She smiled. “Sam has a sweet tooth and chocolate will sweeten him up for you.”
Kimberley took the bag from Barbara, thanking her again. She walked through the set of double doors into the belly of the sheriff’s station.
“Hey, slugger,” Deputy Hill said with a smirk, shuffling papers at his desk.
Bearfield emerged from the break room, pretending to box with his hands. “Heard you been out there rolling with the punches.”
“Ha-ha,” Kimberley said sarcastically, walking past them.
“You got quite the punch. Heard you broke his nose,” Hill said.
“He’s lucky that’s all I did,” Kimberley called out over her shoulder as she made her way into Sam’s office.
He was sitting at his desk, squeezing a stress ball. It looked new, like he had purchased it solely on Kimberley’s behalf. His lips were pressed firmly together, and his gaze was locked forward, like a laser.
“Hey, Sheriff,” Kimberley said nonchalantly. “I gotcha a coffee and a chocolate muffin.” She sat the cup and the bag in front of him, tossing the carrying tray in the garbage can, and taking a sip from her own coffee.
“Don’t fucking ‘Hey, Sheriff’ me. Sit down,” Sam said without looking at her.
Kimberley sat down, her eyes meeting his. “What’s up?”
“You know what’s up. Kent filed a complaint with me that you assaulted his son. Is that true?” He leaned forward in his chair, taking a sip of the coffee. His eyes glanced at the paper bag, like he wanted to pull out the muffin and eat it but had to get his reprimand over with first. Barbara was right about his sweet tooth.
“Yes, it’s true. I lost my temper.”
Sam let out a sigh. “I don’t know what you got away with in the city, but this can’t fly around here. It’s a small town. People talk, and it’s not a good look for any of us.”
“I know. I’m sorry for that, but I’m not sorry I did it.” Kimberley crossed one leg over the other.
“Look, I know the Kents are creeps, and what they’re doing right now is awful. Between you and me, I would have had a hard time not clocking the guy too, but that doesn’t make it right.”
Sam glanced at the paper bag again.
“I should suspend you. Kent wanted to press charges, but I was able to sway him not to.”
Kimberley nodded.
“Just don’t let it happen again.”
“I’ll try not to.”
Sam squeezed his stress ball harder and shook his head. He glanced at the paper bag again.
“Just eat the muffin,” Kimberley teased.
Sam opened the bag, pulling out half a muffin.
“Where’s the other half?” he asked, setting it down on a napkin.
“Barb has it.”
Sam ripped off a piece and shoved it in his mouth, his face instantly brightening from the sweet, chocolatiness. “She told you I had a sweet tooth, didn’t she?”
“Yep.”
“And she told you I was mad, and this would help, didn’t she?”
“Yep again. So, is my reprimand over?”
Sam placed another piece in his mouth. “For now… Now, what you got for me? Were you able to interview all the people you discussed yesterday?”
Kimberley pulled her notepad from her front pocket, flipping through several pages. “Michelle from the pharmacy said she witnessed Hannah purchase boxes of condoms several times and a Plan B pill a couple weeks before her murder.”
Sam leaned back in his chair, nodding.
“Lisa agreed to submit Isobel to a paternity test, which will happen today. Tyler’s sample was overnighted, and I fast-tracked the testing, so we’ll have it by end of day.”
Sam nodded again as he put the last of the muffin in his mouth.
“I spoke with Margaret, the daycare teacher at Happy Trails. She provided me with Isobel’s file.” Kimberley pulled out her phone, bringing up the photo she had taken of the contact sheet. She zoomed into the phone number with the heavy ink spot and handed the phone over to Sam. “That number that’s on the contact form didn’t have a name or an address to go along with it. That same number is the unregistered one in Hannah’s phone, the one that she’s been talking to several times a week for at least a year.”
Kimberley closed up her notepad, sliding it back in her pocket.
“So, what you’re saying is whoever killed Hannah was sleeping with her and is most likely Isobel’s father?” Sam said.
“Yes, pending the paternity test.”
He scratched his chin. “And we have no idea who she could have been seeing?”
“None. No one could give me anything. Not her mom, not her co-workers, not the daycare, no one. This relationship was in secret, which leads me to believe the man is probably taken, married or at the very least in a serious relationship.”
Sam nodded. “Any other reason someone would keep a relationship with a single woman a secret?”
“Not that I can think of.” Kimberley leaned back in her chair, bringing her coffee to her lips and taking a drink.
“Sam. Chief Deputy King,” Deputy Bearfield called out as he rapped on the door frame with his knuckles twice. Kimberley turned to look at him.
“Bear,” Sam greeted.
“You know the guy you have me tailing, Henry Colton?”
Kimberley and Sam nodded.
“Well, I just got a phone call on our tip line. He dated Hannah Brown after high school.”
Sam leaned forward in his chair, showing interest.
“Apparently, their breakup was ugly, as was their relationship. Word is he cheated on her. There was a spat of domestic violence throughout the relationship too. Police were called once, but she chose not to press charges, so they were just separated for the night,” the deputy explained.
“Why didn’t we know this before?”
Kimberley turned back toward Sam. “Because we’ve been chasing down Kent’s ghost tour and Henry wasn’t all that forthcoming. Apparently, he’s dumb and guilty.”
Sam let out a deep breath.
Kimberley looked over her shoulder at Deputy Bearfield. “How long were they together, and when did they break up?”
“From what I gathered around two years. They broke up right before she started dating Tyler Louis.”
Kimberley nodded. “Who called this in?”
Bearfield shrugged his shoulders. “Not sure. They wouldn’t give their name. But it was a male voice.”
“Would she hide a relationship with Henry Colton?” Sam pondered.
“Maybe out of shame. She dated him before. He cheated on her, was abusive to her. And you saw him, he’s a drunk idiot—I’d lie about dating him too,” Kimberley said pointedly.
Bear chuckled.
“Do we have enough to bring him in for questioning?” Deputy Bearfield asked.
“He did have a past relationship with the victim, and he has a violent record.” Kimberley raised an eyebrow.
Sam took a sip of his coffee, considering for a moment. “I’ve got the press and the locals’ eyes on me, so I don’t want to just keep pulling in people without more to go on. Bear, tail him for the next twenty-four hours, make our police presence known. Let’s see if we can shake something loose. Regardless, we’ll pull him in for questioning tomorrow.”
Deputy Bearfield nodded and left the room.
“Why not pull him in now?” Kimberley cocked her head.
She didn’t understand this pussyfooting Sa
m partook in. Why was he being so careful? If it was up to Kimberley, Henry would be sitting in her interrogation room in about five minutes. She’d have him confessing everything he’s ever done, even something as miniscule as jaywalking.
“Like I said, we’ve got a lot of eyes on us. Murder might be typical in the city, but it’s not around here.”
“Your town is literally named after an unsolved murder.” Kimberley rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, and I don’t need another unsolved one.”
“If we keep tiptoeing around, that’s exactly what’s going to happen,” Kimberley challenged.
“People out there are scared, but they’re still talking because they have faith in us. If we start pulling in anyone and everyone for questioning, townsfolk will see us as the enemy. They’ll quit talking. We won’t be able to shake anyone loose,” he explained.
To Kimberley, it made zero sense. She didn’t need people to talk in order to catch the person responsible. She needed evidence, facts, not town gossip. She wondered if Sam had ulterior motives for not wanting to bring Henry in. She knew he had had the public information session yesterday. What happened there? What about the press? He was an elected official. Was reelection coming up? Was he putting politics before police work?
“Henry has a history with her, and he doesn’t have an alibi for the night of her murder, and he lied about how close they were,” Kimberley pressed.
“So, should we pull every guy she dated in for questioning? One-night stands? Prom dates?” Sam crumpled the brown bag into a ball and tossed it in the garbage.
“Maybe. All we know is Isobel might be the link between Hannah and her murderer.”
“We don’t even know that yet. Until the paternity test results are in, it’s just a hunch, and even then, we can’t be certain.”
Kimberley stood from her chair. “Alright then, I’ll be in my office twiddling my thumbs.”
“Just please be patient, Detective. We’ll get this guy. Trust me.”
Kimberley restrained herself from letting out a huff. Instead, she picked up her coffee and nodded. She left Sam’s office, looking out into the main area. Deputy Hill was at his desk mulling over paperwork. All the other desks were empty.
