Paradise Falls

by Jacobs, Jonnie

  “You’re not going to resign, are you?”

  “I don’t bow to threats.” But she was already mulling over the possibility.

  ~~~~

  Rayna parked in front of the Lowes’ modest house and took several deep breaths. She’d never been comfortable delivering word of a death to family members, but ever since that devastating evening four years ago when she’d learned of Kimberly’s death, the task had become especially difficult for her.

  The Lowes were home, and Rayna was grateful for that. They’d have each other to lean on, and she’d only have to go through the details once.

  Mr. Lowe answered the door. His face froze when he saw it was her.

  “There’s news,” he said. A statement more than a question. “Not good news, I take it.”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “What is it?” Mrs. Lowe asked, coming up behind her husband.

  “May I come in?”

  “Just tell us. Please.”

  Rayna took a breath. “We’ve found the remains of a female on Eagle Crest Road. We believe it’s your daughter.”

  Mrs. Lowe started wailing, “No, no, no! It’s not Terri. It can’t be.” She turned to her husband and buried her face against his chest.

  Mr. Lowe struggled to keep his composure. “How could you have let this happen?” He glared at Rayna. “Why haven’t you caught this maniac yet?”

  “We’re doing everything we can,” she said. “I know that doesn’t help you with your loss. You have my deepest sympathy.”

  His face crumpled and his body shook with silent sobs. He clung to his wife and rocked from side to side.

  The rawness of their grief felt like a band around Rayna’s chest. “Shall I call someone for you? A minister? A friend or relative?”

  “We need time to be alone right now. Please.” He reached to close the door.

  “At some point I will need you to identify the body.” Rayna handed them her card, although she knew they had one already. “I’m truly very sorry for your loss.”

  She was trembling by the time she reached her car. Mr. Lowe’s accusation echoed in her head. How had she let this happen? Why hadn’t they stopped this maniac already?

  And now, another girl would die. This time it really would be her fault.

  She gripped the steering wheel and rested her forehead on the back of her hands. If she turned in her badge, would that stop him? She had no way of telling. But she couldn’t—wouldn’t—be responsible for another death.

  With a heavy heart, she headed back to the station, where she issued a press report covering the essentials of the crime and asking for the public’s help. It wasn’t likely there’d be a witness, but she could hope.

  By the time she got home, she felt exhausted.

  She ate a tuna sandwich for dinner then called Cody.

  “I just caught it on the evening news,” he told her. “What a goddamn nightmare.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” Rayna told him about the email to Seth Robbins. “I don’t even know if it’s legit.”

  “Any idea what this is about? Who’d want you to resign?”

  “No idea.”

  “Do you seriously think Robbins could be behind it?”

  Rayna had debated that question with herself all afternoon. “Part of me would like that to be the case, but he seemed genuinely distressed by the email. We’ve assigned someone to keep an eye on him just in case.”

  “When a killer taunts the detective, Rayna, it’s typically a game of one-upmanship. The creep’s saying, ‘I’m smarter than you.’ But this strikes me as different. The email. The stuffed animals. That phone message you got, ‘the fun is just beginning,’ it’s like he has it in for you personally.”

  “Why me?”

  “Any jilted lovers or jealous boyfriends in your life?”

  “Very funny.”

  “I’m serious,” Cody said. “There’s no one who’s angry at you?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. I don’t even know very many people.”

  “What about someone you put away? Any gang arrests?”

  “It’s been mostly petty stuff here in Paradise Falls. What wasn’t minor involved stupid perps, like the guy who tried to rob a convenience store after handing the clerk his credit card. I don’t think any of them would be capable of this level of planning and organization.”

  “If he’d been in prison, he might have picked up a thing or two. Or even met a cohort who’s been helping him. Why don’t you check to see if anyone you put away in San Jose has been released recently?”

  “Okay.” Rayna thought it was a long shot, but she was willing to try anything.

  “Maybe I should come back there,” Cody suggested.

  Yes. “There’s no need for that.”

  “Maybe not for the case, but you sound like you could use some . . .” He paused. “I guess I’m the wrong guy for that.” He paused again. “There’s a bust about to go down here, anyway. I’d probably have trouble getting away.”

  But she knew if she asked him to, he would. Whatever it took, he’d find a way. “Just talking to you helps.”

  “I’m here. Anytime.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  As tired as she was, Rayna spent the next two and a half hours painstakingly checking the arrest and release records for cases she’d worked both locally and in San Jose. It took a lot of dialing and calling in of favors, and in some cases a sprinkling of deceit, to get the information, and even then it was incomplete. She’d been able to trace only three prisoners who’d been released in the last twelve months. She followed up with their parole officers, apologizing for bothering them after hours, only to learn that none lived close to Paradise Falls and all were employed and reporting to work regularly. After expending so much energy and adrenaline on the task, Rayna felt let down by the lack of results, even though she’d expected it to begin with.

  Before heading off to bed, she logged into her police email and sent a short email to the account the killer had used.

  If you have issues with me, why don’t we deal with them directly? Maybe we can work something out.

  Again she thought it was probably a stab in the dark, but she sat in front of the computer screen for five minutes, hoping for a reply, before heading off to bed.

  ~~~~

  She was up early the next morning, dreading a phone call informing her that another girl was missing. She checked her email first thing—no reply from the killer—then made coffee and went outside to pick up the morning paper, removing the rubber band on her way in. When she tossed the paper on the counter, a small stuffed monkey slid free. A copy of her email was pinned to its chest, and under her words a scribbled response: Why? I’m having fun.

  Chapter 47

  Grace wiped the counters and filled the kettle. She hadn’t been quick enough to make excuses, or convincing enough with her honestly-I’m-doing-fine response, to fend off Sandy’s visit. She wasn’t sure why her first instinct had been to resist—it certainly had nothing to do with Sandy herself. More likely it was because of the pervading lethargy that seemed to blanket her every move. Even her brain felt mired in molasses.

  It was a bleak morning, inside and out. The morning of the day after Caitlin’s funeral. A day to begin moving forward, except Grace couldn’t move at all.

  She’d somehow managed to get through yesterday’s ordeal, although her memory of details was spotty. Today had dawned just as heavy and just as awful. Her precious daughter was in the ground. “Laid to rest” in the popular parlance, but like all the other feel-good clichés about death, it offered no solace. Dead was dead and Grace experienced no sense of closure, no peace at having Caitlin properly buried. In fact, today was worse. Yesterday she’d had a purpose; today she had nothing.

  By rote, she took two mugs from the cupboard and turned on the burner under the kettle. Her friend would arrive any minute and Grace hadn’t even showered. At least her kitchen was presentable, she though
t, as she took one final swipe of the sponge across the countertop, and the coffee would be hot.

  There was a knock at the front door, followed by Sandy’s familiar “Hi, it’s me,” as she let herself in.

  “I’m in the kitchen,” Grace called out.

  Sandy set a pink bakery box on the counter and gave Grace a long hug. “I won’t even ask how you’re doing,” she said.

  “I look that bad?”

  “You look great, but I know you’re not.”

  “Everyone says it gets better with time.”

  “Pop psychology is overrated,” Sandy said. “Sit down, I’ll make the coffee.” She scooped grounds into a filter and set out plates for the collection of pastries she’d brought. “It was a lovely service yesterday,” she said, returning to the stove. Then she slapped her cheek with the flat of her hand. “What a stupid thing to say, like that’s supposed to make you feel better. I’m sorry, Grace. I promised myself I wasn’t going to spout off like some sympathy card, and now I’ve done it twice. It’s just that I’m not very good at this. It’s so hard to know what to say.”

  Grace ignored the pastries. She wasn’t the least bit hungry but she was suddenly glad Sandy had come over. The woman was like the scent of early spring in a house long closed up and stale. “You say a lot just by caring.”

  “I wish I could do more.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it about the service,” Grace said. “Yesterday’s a blur for me.”

  “That’s totally understandable. I can’t begin to imagine . . .” The water came to a boil and Sandy poured it through the grounds. “You heard they found Terri Lowe’s body?”

  Grace nodded. “It was in the paper this morning.” She’d thought about contacting the girl’s parents to offer condolences, but her own grief was still too raw to have anything left over.

  “It’s frightening to think there’s a killer preying on local girls. People are keeping their kids close, not letting them walk home or play outside. Some parents are even holding their kids out from school.”

  “I know. I’m picking Lucy up after school this afternoon so that she won’t have to walk home.”

  Sandy set two mugs on the table. “That’s quite considerate of you, given how you must be feeling.”

  “Since I more or less wrongly accused Adam of murder, I feel I need to do something to try to make amends.” As if that were possible, Grace thought. Some breaches were simply too deep to be fixed. “Carl has a class he can’t miss and Mimi has a full patient schedule. Besides, I enjoy Lucy’s company.”

  “It’s not painful?”

  “I’m constantly reminded of Caitlin, but that happens whether I’m with Lucy or not. And she’s, I don’t know, needy in a way that makes me feel valued. It’s kind of like being around a helpless puppy.”

  Sandy laughed at the analogy. “Don’t let Lucy hear you say that.” She reached for a croissant and broke it in half. “How’s Carl doing now that Adam’s okay and no longer a suspect?”

  Grace sipped her coffee. It was hot and strong and soothing. “I’m not sure.”

  “He still blames you?”

  “Not in so many words.” If anything, he probably blamed Grace more for opening the door to his own doubts about Adam.

  “I guess it’s only natural that your relationship would be a bit rocky.”

  “More than a bit rocky, actually. He’s trying to be supportive in light of Caitlin’s murder, but he’s also disappointed in me and very angry.” Maybe angrier than Carl even realized himself.

  He’d slept upstairs with Grace last night for the first time in over a week. He’d held her when she cried and stroked her hair while they talked of Caitlin. But there’d been a distance there too, dividing them like a wall of emotional Plexiglas.

  “He’s talking about moving out,” Grace added after a minute.

  “Moving out? As in leaving you?”

  “He says it’s temporary. His excuse is that he needs to have a place for Adam to live when he’s released from the hospital. Carl feels Adam needs him and that Mimi’s not up to the job even if her schedule allowed it.”

  “You believe that it’s temporary?”

  “I believe he believes it.”

  When Carl had talked about getting an apartment again this morning, he’d pleaded with her to understand. “I suspected my own son of murder, Grace. I’m sure he sensed that. I pushed him into suicide. I’m every bit as guilty of that as you are. And I’m his father. Don’t you see that this is something I have to do? I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.”

  She did see and that’s what made it so hard.

  “You’re both good people,” Sandy said, clasping Grace’s hand. “I really hope you can work it out.”

  Sandy was wise enough to keep her visit short. They reminisced about Caitlin, gossiped about people they knew in common, and then Sandy said that she needed to be going. “You’ll call me if you need anything?”

  “I promise.”

  When she’d left, Grace finally took her morning shower.

  Jake called just as Grace stepped out of the shower. “Do you have time for lunch?”

  “I can’t eat,” she told him, wrapping her terry robe around her shivering body. “I’m not hungry.”

  “How about coffee then?”

  “I just had coffee. What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.” Jake sighed, a ragged forlorn sound that caught in his throat. “I’m at loose ends, I guess.”

  “Join the club.”

  “Last night, after the funeral, I couldn’t concentrate. Couldn’t breathe. I almost went to the emergency room, but I knew the problem wasn’t physical. I just felt so alone.”

  “Where was Starr?”

  “She’s visiting her sister.”

  “She left you alone on the night of your daughter’s funeral?” That seemed a bit much, even for Starr.

  “We had a fight. I told her I wasn’t sure I wanted to go through with the wedding.”

  “I’m sorry.” Grace felt bad for Jake but she wasn’t in the mood to hold his hand.

  “I guess we weren’t as well matched as I imagined.”

  Grace had never seen that they were a match at all.

  “I was wondering if I could get copies of some photos of Caitlin when she was younger. Of the three of us. Not right away. When you have time. I can have copies made.”

  “Of course.”

  “And maybe, I don’t know, maybe I could take you to dinner some night?”

  “I don’t think that’s—”

  “I don’t mean as a date. Just as a friend.”

  Never, in the nine years since their divorce, had Jake suggested getting together for dinner.

  “It’s just that I’m feeling . . . disconnected. It’s dawning on me how little time I spent with Caitlin. How little I really knew her. We weren’t close the way a lot of fathers and daughters are. And now she’s gone. I don’t get a second chance.”

  Although it was his own doing, Grace couldn’t help feeling sympathetic. “You’d miss her no matter what,” she offered. And he’d find things to regret, too. Grace certainly did. “Why are you even in town today? Did you have a meeting?”

  “I wanted to visit Caitlin’s grave without a lot of other people around. I wanted to say goodbye in private . . .” His voice trailed off. “Oh, God, Grace. I can’t believe she’s really gone.”

  ~~~~

  Already noon, Grace thought, as she finished dressing. No, that was wrong. Only noon was more like it. She studied her haggard face in the bathroom mirror. How in the world would she get through the rest of the day? And the days to come.

  She told herself she needed to concentrate on what was good, to find one thing to be grateful for each day. Anyone looking at her life from the outside, even knowing about Caitlin, would be able to come up with a good-sized list of positives. She had supportive friends. She had a good husband, however tenuous their relationship at the moment. She had her health
, a job, a home, food in her cupboard and money in her bank account. But the gaping wound of her grief swallowed them all like a black hole.

  They’ll find Caitlin’s killer, Grace told herself. The lunatic who was terrorizing Paradise Falls would be caught and punished. Would that bring her closure? Would she then be able to look forward?

  And what about Adam? Even though she’d been wrong about him, there were questions that remained. Questions about Caitlin that only Adam could shed light on.

  He was going to be moved to a psych facility in a few days, and then most likely to Carl’s new apartment. Grace might never have another chance to speak with him. Mimi certainly wouldn’t let her anywhere near him. Carl, too, would feel protective.

  Grace put on lipstick and brushed blusher across her sallow cheeks, then drove to Pacific Memorial Hospital.

  She took the elevator to the fourth floor and found Adam’s room. She knew he was off the ventilator and no longer in ICU, so she was surprised to see how frail he looked. All bones and angles, skin almost as white as the sheets. His eyes were closed and an intravenous drip snaked into the vein in his arm.

  She backed out of the room. She’d get a cup of coffee or something in the hospital cafeteria and come back later when he was awake. Maybe by then she’d figure out what to say to him.

  Chapter 48

  “You all finished, honey? You didn’t eat much.”

  The nurse, whose name was Bridget, was Adam’s favorite. She was a sturdy-looking black woman with smooth skin and cool, efficient hands. She spoke with a slight accent—maybe Jamaican, he didn’t really know. She exuded gentleness without sounding falsely upbeat like the night nurse.

  “I’m not hungry,” Adam said. The food was pretty awful anyway. Who’d get excited about a soft-boiled egg and Jell-O?

  “Your throat still sore?”

  “A little.” They’d shoved a tube down him to pump his stomach and another when he was on the ventilator. He’d been mostly in a fog when all that was going on, but he was paying the price now with a raw throat that hurt like hell when he swallowed.