by Karen Rose
‘Agreed. I need to go. I need to tell her.’
‘God. Poor kid. I’m on my way in.’
JD hung up but didn’t move, dreading this more than anything he’d ever done. Her father was one thing, but she still had feelings for her mother. Bent over the body in his trunk, she went still then looked over her shoulder as if knowing he’d been talking about her. She straightened, her eyes seeking his.
‘Who?’ she asked.
He crossed to her and started to take her hands, but she held them away and too late he saw that her gloves were bloody. ‘Sonny Westcott and your parents are missing.’
She drew a sharp breath. ‘When?’
‘Probably while we were in Anderson Ferry yesterday.’ He wasn’t sure what he expected her to do, but it wasn’t what she did, which was to nod briskly, square her shoulders and return to her examination of Ryan Agar.
‘I checked under his shirt,’ she said. ‘There’s an “E” burned into his back, but it appears to be post-mortem this time, which is different than the others. But his heart’s gone and the gag appears to hold his tongue, which is identical to the others.’
‘Lucy.’ He grasped her shoulder and she shrugged him off.
‘Don’t, JD. Not now.’
He didn’t listen, forcing her to turn to face him. ‘I’m taking you off this case.’
Her mouth fell open in outrage. ‘You can’t do that.’
‘Yes, I can.’ He leaned close, ignoring the mutilated body behind them. ‘I care about you,’ he whispered fiercely. ‘Besides that, now that your family is involved, anything you touch is subject to dismissal by a judge. You know that.’
She swallowed, her eyes so filled with pain that it broke his heart. ‘I have to work.’
‘No, baby, you don’t.’ He removed her gloves and Ruby quietly disposed of them. He drew Lucy into his arms and held her. She was shaking, her hands clutching his shirt.
‘I’ll call the next doc in rotation,’ Ruby said. ‘Luce, I’m sorry.’ Lucy nodded and said nothing. She was holding herself so rigidly JD was afraid she’d shatter. He tugged her away from the trunk, his arm around her and she followed numbly.
Drew emerged from the CSU van and took one look at Lucy’s face. ‘What?’
‘Her parents are missing, along with Sheriff Westcott,’ JD said. ‘There appeared to be a struggle with the sheriff. Can you get someone down there to process the scene?’
‘Yeah. I’ll get right on it. Lucy, I’m so sorry.’
She nodded, unseeing, and JD walked her to her apartment, tapping a female officer to follow. Lucy sat slowly on her sofa, her face more than pale.
‘Stay with her,’ he said to the officer. ‘She has two friends, Gwyn Weaver and Thomas Thorne. Call them if you would.’ He knelt next to Lucy, taking her hands in his, warming them. ‘I have to get back downstairs to the scene.’
‘I know,’ she whispered, her gaze eerily unfocused. ‘He cuts out their hearts, JD. He’s going to do that to my mother.’
‘We’re going to stop him, honey.’ He brought her hands to his lips. ‘I have to go.’
When she looked at him, her eyes were clear. ‘Get him, JD. Please.’
‘Try not to worry.’ Standing, he glanced out of her front window. In the parking lot Ruby and another tech were zipping Ryan Agar into a body bag and a chill froze JD’s blood. He’s out there. Planning. Watching her every move with that damn tracker.
JD didn’t want to leave her, but he knew he had to. To make himself feel better, he found the tracker Drew had hidden in the compact and tucked it into one of the pockets of her coveralls. ‘Where’s your cell phone?’
‘In my other pocket. You can go. I’ll be all right.’
‘Okay.’ He pressed a kiss to her forehead. ‘Stay here. Stay safe.’
Wednesday, May 5, 6.00 A.M.
Stevie was buttering a piece of toast when she saw the note her sister had left on the refrigerator. Cordy has a field trip in day care today. You need to sign the paper. In her backpack. xoxo, Iz. Stevie sighed. Izzy was always leaving these things till the last minute. Still, Stevie didn’t know what she’d do without her.
She searched Cordelia’s backpack, conscious of the minutes ticking. JD had things under control, but it wasn’t fair to make him shoulder the burden alone. Frustrated, she dumped the contents of the backpack on her kitchen table.
She frowned when a key fob tumbled out. What was Cordelia doing with her car key? She picked it up and squinted at the tiny print on the back. And then the toast she’d eaten rose in her throat to choke her. Trackamatic GPS.
‘Oh God. Holy God.’ She made herself breathe, even as she was running to Cordelia’s room. She shuddered out a panicked sob when she saw her daughter sleeping like an angel, safe. Stevie ran to her sister’s room and turned on the light.
Izzy blinked and pulled a pillow over her face. ‘Go away, Stevie.’
Stevie shook her hard. ‘Wake up. Izzy.’
Izzy sat up abruptly. ‘What? Is it Cordy? What?’
Stevie held up the device. ‘Do you know what this is?’
Izzy squinted. ‘My car key?’
‘No. Did you put it in Cordelia’s backpack?’
‘No. Why would I? What’s wrong? You’re pale as a ghost.’
Stevie nodded over and over, trying to stop her racing heart. ‘Okay. Today Cordelia goes nowhere. This is a tracking device. Our ME found one in her purse.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Izzy said.
‘A man has killed eight people. He was tracking our ME. Now I find this in my child’s . . .’ Her voice broke and Izzy wrapped her arms around her.
‘Okay, I get it now. Nobody’s gonna touch your baby. We won’t let them.’
Stevie nodded, but the tears were coming and she couldn’t stop them. ‘Oh God.’
‘It’s okay,’ Izzy murmured. ‘I’m cancelling everything today. I’ll stay here with Cordy and I’ll bring over everyone else in the family.’
Stevie pulled away. ‘I should stay here.’
‘No.’ Izzy held Stevie’s face. ‘You should go find the sonofabitch who just threatened our baby. Now go. I will sit in Cordy’s room till Mom and Dad get here.’
Stevie wiped her palms across her wet face. ‘You have a key to my gun safe?’
Izzy’s jaw was now cocked. ‘Oh yeah. If he tries to come in this house, he’d better be wearing a suit of fucking body armor because otherwise he ain’t leaving alive.’
‘Good.’ Stevie made herself think. Only one name came to mind. ‘Clay Maynard,’ she said, her eyes narrowed. ‘That man is going to tell me what this is about.’
‘I don’t know who that is,’ Izzy said, ‘but I pity the man who fucks with you today.’
‘You got that right. But first I’m going to ask Cordelia about this.’
‘Calm down first. You’re scaring me, and I’m not five years old.’
She was right. Stevie took deep breaths until her chest was no longer tight. ‘Now?’
Izzy made a face. ‘Not great, but not Monster Mama either.’
The two of them went into Cordelia’s room and sat on either side of the bed, flanking her. ‘Baby.’ Stevie gently shook her awake. ‘Mommy needs to talk to you.’ Stevie waited until Cordelia blinked her eyes open. ‘Has anyone been playing with your backpack? Any grownups?’
‘No,’ she said sleepily. ‘Why?’
‘Have you lost it recently and maybe just gotten it back?’
‘No. Is it still night?’
‘No, baby, it’s early in the morning. Has anyone you don’t know touched your backpack?’
‘No.’ Her little forehead bunched. ‘Yes. I dropped it and a man picked it up for me.’
Stevie’s heart began to pound. ‘How did you drop it?’
She shrugged. ‘I tripped. The nice man gave it back to me and I said thank you.’
Stevie forced her voice to be gentle. ‘Do you remember what he looked like?’
‘He was
big. Like a tree.’
Stevie made herself smile. ‘Dark hair, light hair?’
‘Dark. I think. He had a hat.’
‘How do you know he was dark, then?’
‘He had black eyebrows. Bushy ones, like Grandpa. Can we have waffles for breakfast?’
‘You bet,’ Izzy said, ruffling her hair. ‘You can help me make them. Just like the cookies. But now Mommy has to go to work and catch the bad guys.’
Cordelia tilted her head back to stare up at Stevie. ‘Was that man bad, Mommy?’
‘I don’t know,’ Stevie said honestly. ‘But you don’t need to worry about him. Aunt Izzy and Gramma and Grampa are gonna be here all day.’
Cordelia grabbed Stevie’s sleeve. ‘Mommy. The bad man had a tattoo.’
Stevie’s pounding heart sped up. ‘Like?’
Cordelia frowned. ‘A heart, but it wasn’t pretty. It was squashed.’
‘Oh wow, baby. You are amazing,’ Stevie breathed. ‘Where was it?’
Cordelia pointed to her forearm. ‘I don’t remember which side.’
Stevie pulled her baby to her in a hard hug. ‘It doesn’t matter. You are awesome.’
Cordelia’s smile lit up her face. ‘Can I have chocolate chips in my waffles?’
Stevie’s lips twitched. ‘You bet. I love you.’
Cordelia bounced on the bed. ‘Love you,’ she sang, loudly and totally off key.
Music to my ears. Stevie motioned Izzy to the doorway. ‘I’m going to get police protection for the house. They may come inside to wait.’
‘Then I’ll feed them waffles too,’ Izzy said. ‘You go.’
Stevie had to take another deep breath. ‘I love you too, you know.’
Izzy winked. ‘What’s not to love?’
Stevie called Hyatt as soon as she got to her car and he immediately ordered a squad car to her house. He could be a royal pain in the ass, but he was good about protecting his people and their families. She then dialed JD. ‘I have a stop to make before I get to Lucy’s.’
‘What’s wrong, Stevie?’ he asked quietly.
‘I found one of those tracking devices in Cordelia’s backpack.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘And I got a description from Cordy.’ She told him.
‘Tall as a tree and a squashed heart tattoo? That’s . . . specific.’
‘What are you thinking?’
‘That Thomas Thorne is as tall as a tree,’ he said.
‘Yes, he is. We can’t bring him in yet. Not on the word of a five year old.’
‘I know. And I just told a policewoman to call him for Lucy. Lucy won’t be able to believe it’s Thorne. She’s loyal.’
‘Where’s her shadow?’
‘Skinner is on his way. Should be here any minute. Where are you going first?’
‘To pay a visit to that PI as soon as the squad car Hyatt ordered gets here.’
‘I’ll give Skinner the heads-up and I’ll meet you at the PI’s. Hang in there.’
‘I will.’ She hung up, closed her eyes, and prayed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Wednesday, May 5, 6.25 A.M.
JD hung up, so angry his hands shook. First Lucy and now Cordelia. I want him dead. It didn’t matter why Evan was doing what he was doing or even what he’d endured. It mattered that he needed to be stopped. Permanently.
JD’s phone rang again, the call this time from Debbie, Hyatt’s clerk. ‘JD, I have Detective Sherman from Newport News on the line. Hyatt said to put him through to you, that he has information you’ll want to hear. We checked him out. He’s legit.’
Before JD could ask a question, he was connected. ‘This is Fitzpatrick.’
‘Good morning. My name is Detective Sherman. I’m with the homicide department in Newport News. I’ll be brief because I can see from the news that you’re busy. I hear from your LT that you’ve met a PI named Maynard.’
‘Yeah,’ JD said, standing straighter. ‘I assume you have too. What did he do?’
‘Not sure, but he knows a helluva lot more than he’s telling. I got two bodies in my morgue. One’s a cop. Both have slit throats with a little curl around the right ear. I understand you have a few of those yourself.’
A cop. This just gets better. ‘Physically in my morgue, six,’ JD said grimly. This could be the break they’d hoped for. He prayed Sherman knew something they didn’t.
Sherman coughed. ‘Sonofamotherfuckin’ bitch.’
‘Maynard’s friend was killed by the same person who did the other killings. He found her body yesterday morning.’
‘Really. That must be why he went home. How does she connect?’
‘We think she stumbled onto something that got her killed. How do your victims connect to Maynard?’
‘He came into town on Monday looking for a woman he claimed called herself Margo Winchester. He’d been pestering one of our elderly residents to speak to her granddaughter. We traced the granddaughter to a strip joint but she was already in the wind. Maynard stopped in to talk to her Monday night after he lost our tail.’
‘I assume you were tailing him for more than bothering the old lady.’
‘Oh yeah. He stopped by our morgue to ask about a victim of a fire. That was our cop, Pullman. He’d had his throat slit, then his body was burned in the arson of a condemned house. Took us a few days to ID him. In the meantime, a body was pulled out of the Bay – a Jane Doe. Her throat was also slit. She matched the woman Maynard was looking for.’
‘Margo Winchester.’
‘Yeah, but the Jane Doe was using Margo as an alias. Once we traced the old lady’s granddaughter to the strip joint, we passed the Jane Doe sketch around. They knew her as Mary Stubbs. She’d been a dancer there for a year, but hadn’t shown up in a week, right about the time she ended up in the Bay. They’d also seen our dead cop hanging around there in the recent past. Pullman was married, and was doing it with the stripper on the QT.’
‘Got it. Do you know an Evan Bryan?’
‘I don’t, but I can check it out. Is he the perp?’
‘We don’t know, but his name’s come up in our investigation. He and his mother were last known to be in North Carolina twenty years ago.’
Sherman waited. ‘That’s all you got?’
‘Plus the six stiffs in my morgue, three more missing, and two victims in Delaware.’
‘Shit, Fitzpatrick. What has Maynard told you?’
‘A whole lot of nothing, but I was on my way to see him when you called. I’ll keep you up to date if you’ll see what you can turn up on Evan Bryan.’
‘Will do. Good luck.’
‘Thanks,’ JD said and hung up with a tired sigh. We’re gonna need it. He’d started to call Stevie with the information when Skinner pulled up in his department car, reminding JD that he had no way to meet Stevie at Maynard’s house because his own vehicle was now a crime scene.
‘Heard what happened,’ Skinner said, jogging over to JD. ‘Lucy’s parents going missing and now Stevie’s kid being tracked. How’s the doc?’
‘Holding.’ She’d been holding for a long time, JD thought. ‘Look, I’ve gotta meet Stevie before she tears that PI Maynard a new one. Can I use your car?’
Skinner held out his keys. ‘Good luck. I wouldn’t want to be that PI right now.’
‘Me either. Tell Lucy I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ Tall as a tree. JD sighed. ‘Look, Skinner, Stevie’s kid says the guy she saw was tall as a tree and had a tattoo of a squashed heart. I don’t know if he has a tattoo, but Thomas Thorne is—’
‘Tall as a tree,’ Skinner finished. ‘Hyatt will get some serious mileage out of that.’
‘Thorne is Lucy’s friend. He may come, considering her folks are missing.’
Skinner nodded. ‘Got it. I’ll keep my eyes open.’
Wednesday, May 5, 7.40 A.M.
Clay had another sleepless night, poring over Nicki’s records in the hope that he’d find something linking Ileanna Bryan to Evan Reardon
and Lucy Trask. But he’d found nothing, so today he and Alyssa were going to Anderson Ferry to get answers so that they could find Evan, who thankfully hadn’t seemed to have killed anyone new in the last twenty-four hours.
They should have left already, but he hadn’t moved. He stood at his desk, his hands clutching the handle of his briefcase, wondering what had gone so wrong.
Because it was wrong. Nicki was dead because she’d fallen for the wrong man and hadn’t seen the truth in front of her. He couldn’t change that. But he should have come clean the moment he’d seen Mary Stubbs’s autopsy photo in Sherman’s office.
But he hadn’t and people had died. Innocent people. And I have to live with that.
‘It’s time to go, Clay,’ Alyssa said from the doorway of his office.
‘I know.’ He released a pent breath. ‘But I can’t. Evan has to be stopped and our going to Anderson Ferry will take hours that the cops could be using to catch him. We need to tell Mazzetti what we know. I’ll keep you out of it.’
Alyssa’s eyes widened. ‘Looks like you’re about to get your chance.’ She’d no sooner said the words when the outside door opened.
‘Where. Is. He?’ Mazzetti asked coldly from the front.
‘Um, he’s . . .’ Alyssa stammered.
‘Look,’ Mazzetti said angrily. ‘I’ve already been to his house. That’s his car outside and I’m in no fucking mood to play games. Where is Maynard?’
‘It’s okay, Alyssa,’ Clay called. ‘Show her in.’
Mazzetti stormed in, followed by a man about Clay’s size. The man looked equally grim. Clay wondered if Evan had killed someone else after all.
Mazzetti propped her fists on his desk and leaned in. ‘Who is he? Who is the brother?’
‘Whose brother?’ he asked, although he thought he now knew.
In the blink of his eye she was around his desk, her furious face inches from his. ‘I swear to God you’d better not lie to me, Maynard. Tell me who he is. Now.’
