by Karen Rose
She scrolled past the pictures to the report. ‘The ME back then took semen samples.’
She was done talking about her personal life, but it was more than she’d offered before without his asking. ‘Illeanna’s report doesn’t mention a DNA test,’ he said.
‘They didn’t do one. Probably because no one was prosecuted. It took weeks to get DNAs done back then, when they were done at all. But they did do blood type.’ Abruptly she switched to Ricky Joyner’s autopsy report. ‘Which was consistent with that of the suicide victim. And not Buck.’
She’d been thinking Buck had raped Ileanna. Which had also crossed JD’s mind more than once. ‘Not conclusive,’ he said.
‘No. But add to it that the bruising on Joyner’s knuckles was also consistent with the injuries on Ileanna’s face and body, and you have a stronger case. Plus there was some anger that goes to motive. She’d broken up with Joyner to go to the prom with Buck.’
He read more of the report. ‘Joyner had scratches on his face and chest.’
‘And she had skin under her nails.’
‘Seems like a slam dunk,’ he mused. ‘Why does it feel wrong?’
She opened Joyner’s autopsy photo and JD had to swallow hard. It, too, was grim. Joyner had eaten his gun and there wasn’t much face left. But Lucy didn’t flinch, just stared at the screen with that instant concentration he found so fascinating.
‘Because it is wrong,’ she said. ‘Look at his face.’
JD grimaced. ‘How? There’s nothing left.’
She shook her head and zoomed the photo on Joyner’s right jaw. ‘It’s a bruise.’
‘He shot himself in the face, Lucy,’ JD said flatly. ‘He’s gonna be dinged up.’
‘This isn’t from the shot. He was hit in the face, hard. Pre-mortem.’ Quickly she clicked on the victim’s arms. ‘These are defensive wounds, and this,’ she clicked on his torso where there was a dark bruise over the ribcage, ‘is a boot kick.’
JD frowned. She was right. His eyes had immediately been drawn to the victim’s lack of face and he’d missed the other injuries. ‘Why didn’t the ME catch that twenty-one years ago?’
‘Could have been any number of reasons. The cops said Joyner did it. The victim and killer were both dead, so the cases were closed. Maybe he had a huge caseload and cut a corner.’
‘So did he kill himself?’
‘Maybe. But he had one dilly of a fight before he did.’ She clicked to the next photo and went still. ‘Or not. Not before he died, anyway.’ She zoomed in. ‘See this bruise on his back? Post-mortem. Also looks like a boot kick.’
It certainly did, he thought grimly. ‘Somebody either killed him or came along and kicked him right after he was dead.’ He paged through the police report and knew she was right. ‘He did have gunshot residue on his hand. Which still held the gun. If he’d shot himself, the gun probably wouldn’t have been in his hand. This was staged.’
‘Serial number of the gun?’ she asked.
‘Filed off. We might be able to raise it today – if the state boys still have the gun.’
Her stomach growled loudly. ‘Can you print these reports? Then maybe get an escort to go with me to get some dinner? I can bring you back something. The cafeteria was out of almost everything that wasn’t junk food. That stuff’ll kill you.’
He hit print, then stood. ‘I’ll go with you.’
‘Okay. Then I have to go to the morgue, check for some blood work I ran on Russ Bennett.’ But she hadn’t moved. Her eyes had moved back to Joyner’s autopsy photo.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I was just remembering how my mother would scold Buck for scuffing her floors.’
He understood. ‘He wore boots?’
She nodded, troubled. ‘Pointy-toed ones, everywhere except the football field.’
‘He couldn’t have been the only one to wear pointy-toed boots, Lucy.’
‘Yeah, but he’s the only one who hid a dead girl’s bracelet under his baseball cards.’
He tugged her arm. ‘Come, let’s take a break, get dinner. Worry about this later.’
She closed the file and logged off. ‘All right.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Tuesday, May 4, 7.30 P.M.
Clay was so damn tired. Nicki’s parents had been weeping when he met them. They wept as he drove them to their hotel. He was sure they were weeping now. Part of him wished he could weep too. But once he started, he wouldn’t stop.
He pushed open his front door and flinched. Alyssa was standing in his dining room, a gun in her hand. She lowered the gun when she saw it was him, her shoulders slumping.
‘What the hell?’ he asked, exhaustion making him monotone.
‘I kept hearing noises. I kept thinking that Evan’s out there. I’m sorry, I was just scared.’
‘I can’t blame you.’ He watched her put the gun in his china cabinet drawer, already filled with Nicki’s files. ‘Why are there files in my china cabinet?’
‘Because June got a visit from a BPD homicide detective asking about me.’
Clay wanted to groan. June was Alyssa’s roommate and not the sharpest crayon in the box. ‘What did she tell them?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘What could she tell them?’
‘Just that I’m here. I called her to let her know I was okay, so she wouldn’t worry. And I told her to lock the door. Just in case Evan decides to get rid of everyone who knew him.’
His annoyance dissipated. She was right. As long as Evan was free, there was danger. ‘What else did June say?’
‘The cop told her to lock her door, too. Because there were three more murders last night. Two of the victims’ throats were slit.’ She met Clay’s eyes and he could see her fear. ‘Like Nicki.’
Clay’s mouth dropped open. ‘What? Who?’
‘I checked the news. One looked like the woman you saw with Evan on the hotel’s video.’
He swallowed hard, his stomach churning. ‘Who was the other?’
‘A parking valet working a club downtown where a second woman’s body was found. She’d been left in one of the cars in front of a club named Sheidalin. She’d been murdered too. The news didn’t give specifics on that one. What are we going to do?’
Clay closed his eyes. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Well you need to decide fast, because that cop, Mazzetti, is probably coming here next.’ Outside a car door slammed and Alyssa jumped. ‘That’s probably her right now.’
‘Go back to my room,’ Clay said. ‘Do not come out.’ For once, Alyssa obeyed.
There was a knock at the door. ‘Baltimore PD,’ a woman said. ‘Detective Mazzetti, Baltimore Homicide. Can I come in?’
Clay opened the door, a little surprised. The woman’s body did not match her voice. She’d sounded large, but Mazzetti was petite, with dark eyes that tried to see right through him. ‘How can I help you, Detective?’
‘I’m here to talk to you about Nicki Fields. Laurel PD transferred the case to us.’
Because of the other murders. Evan Reardon had killed at least two more, maybe three. The need to do the right thing and tell her what he knew battled with the need to do the right thing and see Reardon breathe his last. ‘Do you have any leads?’
‘Yes,’ Mazzetti said. ‘Do you?’
‘No,’ he murmured. ‘I wish I did. I’d give them to you.’ Which was true. If he had Evan, he’d hand him over so fast. Evan would be dead, but Mazzetti would get her man.
‘Where is Miss Moore?’ she asked.
‘She’s not here,’ Clay said.
‘Her roommate says she is.’ Mazzetti lifted a dark brow. ‘Her car’s parked on your curb. I ran the plates. The Laurel police found very few files in Ms Field’s office or apartment, Mr Maynard. Are they here?’
‘Why would they be?’ Clay asked and Mazzetti’s smile was razor sharp.
‘I can think of a number of reasons, none of them positive. What are you and Miss Moore looking for in your partner’s files?’
‘Clay? Baby?’ The bedroom door opened and Alyssa came out wearing one of Clay’s shirts, her long legs bare. Stretching her arms over her head, she yawned. ‘I heard voi—’ She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening at the sight of Mazzetti. She took a step back and Clay had to struggle to hide his shock and annoyance.
‘So she is here,’ Mazzetti said. ‘The two of you are . . .’ She let the thought trail.
Alyssa tugged at the hem of Clay’s shirt. ‘Yes. Not that it’s any of your business.’
Which it really wasn’t. Except Mazzetti looked at Clay with such disappointment. He felt dirty and wanted to leap to his own defense.
‘You’re a little young, Miss Moore,’ Mazzetti said.
Alyssa lifted her chin. ‘I’m eighteen.’
Mazzetti’s smile was brittle. ‘So says your driver’s license. Okay, this is how it’s going to work. I could haul both your asses in for questioning. Maybe you’d break and maybe you wouldn’t. I don’t believe anything you’ve said, Mr Maynard. Your partner’s files went somewhere. I could search this room and not find them, so don’t worry, I won’t try.’
‘You’d need a warrant first anyway,’ Alyssa said coldly.
‘That I would. I don’t know what you’re hiding, but I’ve got a bunch of bodies in the morgue and my patience is pretty damn thin. One more time.’ She stared directly at Clay. ‘What do you know?’
‘That my friend is dead,’ Clay said wearily. ‘And that I want whoever gutted her and left her to rot to pay. But I’m no vigilante.’ At least he hadn’t been before this morning. Now, he was. After seeing Nicki’s savaged body, he totally was.
‘I hope not. Because you’re impeding an investigation and that’s a felony. I’d hate to add vigilantism to that.’
She had nothing and they both knew it. ‘I have to pick up Nicki’s parents from their hotel and take them to identify her body,’ he said quietly. ‘So if you’re finished, you can go.’
‘All right. For now, please accept my condolences on the death of your colleague.’
‘She was my friend,’ Clay said sharply, more so than he’d intended.
‘Then I’m sorry for your loss,’ Mazzetti murmured. She put her card on an end table. ‘If you think of anything you’d like to tell me, it’ll go easier on you than if I have to dig it up myself. I want this killer behind bars. I want him badly.’ She turned for the door, then changed her mind and turned back. ‘Does the name Ileanna Bryan mean anything to you?’
‘No,’ he answered honestly. ‘Should it?’
She seemed to believe him this time. ‘Probably. I’ll see myself out.’
Clay closed the door behind her, then turned to Alyssa, his fury bubbling to the surface. ‘What the hell is this?’ He pointed to the shirt she wore.
‘Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.’ Alyssa flopped in the chair. ‘You’re supposed to be training me, for God’s sake. She knew we had files. She knew I was here. Why else would I be here? You want to give her probable cause for a warrant on a goddamn silver platter?’
She was right, and it grated. ‘Fine. Stay here until I get back from the morgue.’
‘No way. Evan’s out there somewhere. I’m staying with you.’
Tuesday, May 4, 8.40 P.M.
Evan upended the wheelchair so that Ron Trask landed on the concrete floor of his factory with a whump, his feet still handcuffed to the chair. The old sheriff’s face had taken a major beating. Only a little was from his contact with the floor. The rest, to give credit where due, was done by me.
Mrs Trask already lay on the floor, huddled in the fetal position, largely because that’s how he’d left her tied when he’d brought her in from the boat. He re-tied the old man again, not trusting him as far as he could throw him. Crouching next to Trask, he smiled. ‘That’s a hell of a sweet boat, Sheriff. I might just add her to my fleet.’
Trask glared, then glanced out of the corner of his eye at his wife. The sounds he made behind the tape on his mouth sounded concerned. Evan lifted the tape enough for the old man to speak, ready to slap it down again if he screamed. ‘Is she all right?’ Trask rasped.
‘She’s not dead,’ Evan said flatly.
‘She needs her medicine.’
‘All she’ll need is a coroner. Oh, wait. You have one of those in the family. I’m sure you’re so proud of your daughter, following in your footsteps. She’s got the look-at-me-I’m-so-upstanding gig down pat, but then again she learned at the feet of the master.’
‘She has nothing to do with me,’ Trask said furiously. ‘I disowned her years ago.’
‘Then the family reunion should be tons of fun. Sit tight, I’ll be back later. I get to play with Ryan and Sonny now. But don’t worry. Soon enough it’ll be your turn.’
Tuesday, May 4, 8.45 P.M.
A baggie full of cookies slid across JD’s desk and he looked up from the screen on which he’d been focused for too long. Stevie sat behind her desk. ‘Cookies for me?’ he asked.
‘Cordelia made them to thank you for the locket. I popped home for a minute to tuck her in and she and my sister were just taking them out of the oven. Don’t worry, Izzy makes sure she washes her hands. So where’s Lucy?’ she asked.
‘At the morgue. The PI’s parents arrived to do the ID while we were at dinner.’
‘I thought they only did IDs during the daytime.’
‘Normally, but the tech on duty called and said the parents showed up and were distraught, so Lucy went in. We need to go over to talk to the parents, too, but I thought we should go together. Lucy said she’d call when they were ready for us.’
‘She’s there alone?’
‘Hell, no. Hyatt assigned Phil Skinner as her shadow for tonight.’
She studied him across their desks. ‘Until you take over as bodyguard?’
JD shrugged and redirected the topic. ‘We’ve been getting tips on the hotline from people who claim to have seen Sue Ellen Lamont, the hooker. Hyatt’s got people following up, but mostly the reports are from the usual nutjobs. What did you find out about the PI agency?’
‘That the PI and his assistant are lying and I don’t know why. They’d set it up to look like they were having an affair. She was in his shirt, all rumpled and sleepy-looking.’
‘But?’
‘But he didn’t look at her the way a man looks at a woman he’s just had sex with.’
JD’s eyes skittered away, then back to Stevie’s face. ‘Which is how?’
‘Like you looked at Lucy last night and most of today.’ She propped her feet up on her desk and scratched one knee. ‘There was something about the partner. He was sad.’
‘His partner was just murdered. He’s entitled.’
‘He did seem devastated by her death, but there was more. Guilt, maybe. I don’t know. I gave them Ileanna Bryan’s name before I left.’
His brows lifted. ‘Why?’
‘Because they didn’t kill Nicki Fields, I’m sure of that, but I’m just as sure they know who did. They didn’t know Ileanna’s name, though. I figure I’ll give them through the night to connect some dots for us, then we can put them under surveillance. I wouldn’t be surprised to see them headed to Anderson Ferry tomorrow.’
‘I know just how to track them now,’ JD said. He told Stevie about the device planted in Lucy’s purse and watched her eyes grow wider than saucers. ‘Drew just called to say he’d found three more devices, all hidden in the lining of her purses.’
‘Sonofafuckingbitch,’ Stevie said. ‘Now I gotta wonder if he’s tracking all of us.’
‘Drew’s going to give our vehicles the once-over. He already checked my briefcase and said he’d check yours, and your purse, too. And our phones.’ He then told her about the autopsy results and Lucy’s conclusions about Ricky Joyner’s ‘suicide’.
‘She thinks Buck killed Ricky Joyner,’ Stevie said and JD nodded.
‘She thinks it’s very possible. Her logic is sound. The theory
answers a few questions and sets up a host of others.’
‘One of the big ones is, why now?’ Stevie said. ‘Ileanna was murdered twenty-one years ago, so why start all this killing now?’
‘Malcolm Edwards was the first death. The killing started two months ago. Whatever happened to trigger this happened then.’
‘I’m putting a lot of my eggs in the Ileanna’s-little-brother basket, but learning that Ricky Joyner might have been murdered means we have to look at anyone out to get vengeance for his death, too. How’ve you done tracking the Bryan family?’
‘I found the dad. He ate his gun the year after Ileanna died. Little brother Evan found his body. He and his mother seem to have fallen off the grid after that. When I search on Evan Bryan I get over twenty hits nationwide but none are the right age, and six are women.’
‘He changed his name somewhere along the line. Or maybe his mother did.’
‘Yes. I ran Yvette Bryan through the system. Came up with nothing.’
Stevie thought a moment. ‘What about her maiden name?’
‘She was a widow, not divorced.’
‘Maybe she was going to leave him before the suicide. Sixteen per cent of marriages fail after the loss of a child. A violent loss puts a huge strain on a family.’
‘Her maiden name is Smith.’
She groaned. ‘Even with Yvette as a first name, she’s gonna be a bitch to find,’
‘And I’m running on less than six hours’ sleep for two nights. I used to be able to handle no sleep better. I’m having trouble thinking straight.’
‘Me too. I got tired watching Lucy drag herself through her past. Poor thing.’
‘She’ll hold,’ JD said. ‘I wanted to beat the shit out of her father, though. SOB.’
‘I’m glad you controlled yourself because I’m not sure I would have stopped you. Lennie Berman was impressed, by the way.’
‘What, that I didn’t kill Trask?’
‘Pretty much. He wanted to, too. We did a lot of talking on the drive back. Lennie thinks the killer’s trigger has to be something specific. That it’s likely not a gradual build of rage that just overflows one day. The rage was like a pressure cooker and then something made our guy snap. It has to do with the jewelry, with the hearts.’
