by Karen Rose
He groaned at her pun. ‘Really, Stevie? Really?’
She laughed. ‘Couldn’t resist it,’ she said. ‘Seriously, I was thinking of a bath. It’s been a while since we’ve done that,’ she said, tugging on his hand. ‘Turn off your brain and let me take care of you. Finding Sienna can wait another hour.’
Baltimore, Maryland,
Saturday 22 August, 4.00 P.M.
JD dropped his duffel bag on the laundry-room floor, then unzipped it, wincing at the rank locker-room smell of his dirty clothes. Well, he had been on a camping trip for several days. In August. God, he wished that Holly and Dillon had picked a cooler time of year to get married. But Dillon was one of them, a friend, and when he’d asked for the camping trip in lieu of a raunchy bachelor night, they’d all agreed.
JD threw the clothes in the washer and added the extra-powerful odor-killing detergent that Lucy bought for the clothing he wore when investigating particularly grisly, smelly homicide scenes. He started the cycle, then went through the kitchen into the family room, where he stopped in the doorway and took a moment to simply look.
His wife of three years sat in her overstuffed chair, nursing their two-month-old daughter, while their eighteen-month-old son built a tower with soft blocks, his brow crunched in concentration as he positioned the top block with the utmost precision. Jeremiah was turning out to be a perfectionist. Just like his mama, JD thought, his chest tight.
He was just so damn happy to be home. He must have made a sound because Lucy looked up, her smile blooming bright. ‘There you are.’
‘Daddy!’ Jeremiah popped to his feet and ran to greet him, arms outstretched. ‘Up.’
JD obliged, scooping the boy up and planting a noisy kiss on his soft cheek, the sound of his son’s giggles making him grin. He settled Jeremiah on his hip and crossed the room to Lucy, who turned her face up for a kiss. JD made it a good one, and her hum of pleasure made him ridiculously proud.
‘We missed you,’ she murmured against his lips.
‘Not half as much as I missed you.’
Her mouth curved. ‘You just missed the air conditioning.’
He chuckled. ‘That too.’ He leaned down further to brush a kiss on the baby’s wispy-soft hair, the color of a sunrise. Just like her mama. ‘How’s my Wynnie?’ he said softly, because Bronwynne had fallen asleep against Lucy’s breast, her little belly full.
‘Slept through the night last night,’ Lucy said with a weary grin.
‘Overachiever,’ he teased. It had taken Jeremiah months more to sleep through the night. ‘You want me to put her in her crib?’
‘Please,’ she said gratefully. ‘I’ve been up and down those stairs fifty times today.’
JD blew a raspberry on Jeremiah’s belly and gently lowered him to the floor. ‘Build me a really tall tower, okay? I’m going to tuck Wynnie in.’
Lucy handed the baby up to him. ‘Are you free for the rest of the night?’
He held his daughter close, rocking side to side where he stood. ‘Unless something comes up. I have to make a phone call to Joseph, but after that I’m free. Why?’
Lucy lifted her brows. ‘Because I have a babysitter for a few hours. Gwyn’s picking up both kids and taking them to her place.’
Oh yeah, JD thought, instantly alert. Instantly horny. He’d only been gone a few days, but Lucy had only been cleared for sex by her doctor two weeks before that. JD had a lot of need stored up.
‘Dog?’ Jeremiah asked hopefully.
‘Yes, you can play with Aunt Gwyn’s dog,’ Lucy told him, then met JD’s eyes, hers growing dark with desire. ‘I thought we could stay in. Should I call her to come over and pick them up?’
‘Hel— heck, yes.’ JD corrected himself at the last moment. ‘Let me put Wynnie down for her nap and I’ll make that call. Then I need a shower. I was in the morgue.’
‘How is Neil?’ Lucy asked affectionately. She’d become friends with Dr Quartermaine, who’d replaced her when she went on indefinite childcare leave.
JD remembered the weary look in the man’s eyes. ‘Tired. I think he needs a vacation. But he says hi. I’ll be back in a bit.’
He took the stairs carefully and settled Wynnie in her crib. Making sure the baby monitor was turned on, he placed a careful kiss on her temple and backed out of the room, dialing Joseph.
‘Hey, JD.’ His boss sounded . . . rested. It made JD smirk. They’d both been away from home too many days. ‘Is everything okay?’
JD switched mental gears from daddy to detective, focusing on the Jarvis case. ‘It’s fine. Maybe better than fine. Jazzie’s aunt called me this afternoon. She said that Jazzie spoke during her session at the farm today. Seems to have taken a shine to the new intern.’
‘Taylor Dawson?’ Joseph asked, sounding mildly surprised. ‘What did Jazzie say?’
‘Just “thank you”, but then she broke down in Taylor’s arms and cried. They apparently bonded because Taylor recently lost her mother. The aunt is ecstatic, calling it a breakthrough.’
‘She said two words,’ Joseph said doubtfully. ‘“Thank you” isn’t exactly baring her soul.’
‘It’s more than we had this morning. Jazzie’s aunt – Lilah Cornell – was wondering if we could set up a safe place for Jazzie to meet with Taylor, away from all the adults, because she feels like they’ve been hovering. I was thinking Giuseppe’s tomorrow afternoon. If we can get the private room, we can observe without Jazzie knowing we’re there.’ The restaurant had a room that was wired with cameras and mikes. ‘Miss Cornell will be there as Jazzie’s guardian. Maybe the girl will feel more comfortable talking with Taylor outside of the structured therapy. Taylor might be able to get Jazzie to tell her what she saw.’
Joseph sighed. ‘That’s a lot of pressure for an intern who’s only been at the farm for a few weeks.’
JD heard a woman murmuring in the background, instantly recognizing Daphne’s twang. Joseph said something back, his hand over the phone so that the words were muted, but his tone came through. Joseph Carter was a brooding, often intimidating man except when he was with his wife. Daphne softened his edges. As Lucy does mine.
‘I’m putting you on speaker,’ Joseph finally said.
‘Hey, JD,’ Daphne said, her voice carrying her smile. ‘I think Taylor is truly gifted. She has an empathy and connection with the kids that few of our interns have shown. I just told Joseph that you should give it a try. As long as you can guarantee their safety.’
‘At Giuseppe’s we can,’ Joseph said. ‘And it won’t scare the girl like coming into the police station would. I’ll get it set up and text you the information, JD.’
‘And I’ll talk to Maggie about it,’ Daphne added. ‘She can ask Taylor if she’s willing.’
‘I already called Maggie,’ JD said. He’d done so immediately after ending his call with Lilah Cornell. ‘She’s going to ask Taylor this afternoon.’
‘Taylor will be happy to do it, if I’m any judge of character,’ Daphne assured him.
‘And you always are,’ JD said with a smile of his own. Daphne Montgomery-Carter was one of his very favorite people. She had a knack for seeing what others tried to hide, a valuable skill for a prosecuting attorney. ‘I do have one other thing to discuss with you, Joseph. It affects you too, Daphne. Denny Jarvis and his wife, Missy.’
‘Our most probable leaks.’ Joseph’s voice held an edge.
At this point it was the only theory that made sense. Missy Jarvis worked in Daphne’s office and had access to all the police reports – anything that went into the database, even if it was preliminary. That was where JD had noted that Gage was a suspect, after which an alibi was conveniently produced, and also where JD had noted that he’d had doubts about that alibi, after which Toby Romano was framed. It was more likely that Denny was involved than Missy, but the
access would be hers.
Daphne sighed. ‘I hope Missy is an unwitting participant in this mess. She’s been our office clerk for two years now and she’s really good at her job. We all like her.’
‘I hope so too, for your sake and hers.’ JD fidgeted, not sure if what he was about to propose was a good idea or not. ‘If killing Toby Romano was intended to throw us off the scent, why don’t we let his killer believe he’s succeeded?’
‘You mean plant a notation that the case is closed and Gage Jarvis is no longer a suspect?’ Joseph asked.
‘Exactly. We’ve kept everything important out of that database since we realized something was wrong.’
Joseph was quiet for a moment. ‘If we do that, we need to make it worth our while from an evidentiary standpoint. Without Jazzie’s statement, we have nothing more than circumstantial evidence against Denny and Missy.’
‘Not nearly enough for a warrant, either to search their house or to tap their phones,’ JD grumbled. ‘Believe me, I’ve tried.’ Because Denny was a defense attorney, it was really difficult to get any judge to agree to a wiretap.
‘I know,’ Joseph said. ‘But we can put a tracer on the database itself because it’s property of the state. We can track anyone who logs in and note if they’re logging in from the office or remotely from home.’
‘But . . .’ Daphne paused, troubled. ‘We won’t know if it was Missy, Denny, or both.’
‘I’ll have plainclothes officers tail both of them,’ Joseph said. ‘If only Denny is involved, he’s found some way to get Missy’s password information. If it were me, I’d wait until my wife was out of the house before I took a chance in checking the database. Hopefully Denny is that careful. I’ll make that happen, JD. Let me know what Taylor Dawson says about meeting Jazzie as soon as you hear from her.’
‘Will do.’ They hung up and JD started for the shower, but snuck one last look at Bronwynne in her crib. He loved her so much that sometimes he didn’t think his chest could contain it. He’d never understood how parents could hurt their own children. Now that he was a father, he didn’t even try to understand. He simply did his damnedest to make sure that the parents were punished and that the children were safe. The emotional debris he had to leave to the counselors and therapists.
He pulled the baby’s door closed and sent up a prayer that Taylor Dawson was as good as Daphne thought she was. Jazzie Jarvis’s life depended on it.
Six
Hunt Valley, Maryland,
Saturday 22 August, 4.00 P.M.
Taylor got a bottle of water and sat in the chair on the other side of Maggie’s desk. Maggie had swung her boots back to the floor and was scanning the contents of a manila file folder. ‘Is everything okay?’ Taylor asked cautiously, her worry over her scuffle with Ford shoved down to accommodate the bigger fear.
Does she know? No, she can’t know. Joseph Carter couldn’t find any holes in my background. Nobody knows.
Maggie looked up from the file, her eyes kind, and Taylor’s gut relaxed a fraction. ‘You’re doing great. Actually, that’s why I called you in here.’ Maggie closed the file and slid it back into her drawer. ‘You made a connection with Jazzie Jarvis today. I’d like you to spend some more time with her.’
Relief shuddered through her. Jazzie was a much better topic for discussion. ‘I’d like to try again to get her to ride.’
Maggie shook her head. ‘No. She’s afraid of the horses. We won’t force her to ride.’
‘All right,’ Taylor said slowly when Maggie said no more, simply watching her. All right. How else can I spend more time with an eleven-year-old? ‘I suppose I could take her out for a soda or something. If that’s okay.’
Maggie smiled. ‘How do you feel about ice cream?’
Taylor’s gut relaxed a little more. ‘Very favorably. We can grab a cone near her house.’
‘Good. Her aunt says that Jazzie’s got a sweet tooth and ice cream’s the only thing she’s really responded to since her mother’s death.’
‘Then that’s a plan.’ Taylor decided to take a chance. ‘But if I’m going to spend more time with her, I need to know everything. Even stuff that’s not in the file you just put away.’
Maggie’s brows lifted. ‘That wasn’t Jazzie’s file. That was yours.’
Taylor did a double-take, her mouth falling open. ‘Mine? Why?’
‘Because I figured you’d want to know more about Jazzie and I wanted to be very sure before I told you.’
Sure of what? Taylor had to shove her annoyance down. She’d passed the damn background check, for God’s sake. What more did Maggie VanDorn want?
You mean the background check built on a mountain of lies? the little voice in her mind asked. Really, Taylor?
Dammit. She hated that voice. It was so smug. And irritatingly astute.
‘You mean the fact that she’s afraid of men?’ Taylor asked out loud, proud that her voice remained calm. ‘Ford told me. He suggested that Jazzie might have been molested.’
‘Yes, Ford mentioned that he’d spilled that bucket of beans. But he doesn’t know the whole story. What I’m about to tell you is not in Jazzie’s official file. It was kept out on purpose – to keep her safe and alive.’
Taylor frowned. Safe and alive? What the hell . . . ? ‘I don’t understand.’
‘The facts that Detective Fitzpatrick shared with us for Jazzie’s official file were not entirely complete.’
‘You mean he lied,’ Taylor said flatly.
A shrug. ‘Potato, po-tah-to.’ Maggie watched her carefully. ‘Should I trust you enough to continue?’
Taylor’s temper bubbled up. ‘You mean am I going to run out and publicize this situation for my own gain? No. If you have any doubts about me, don’t tell me any secrets. If you honestly believe I could do that, then fire me. But I can keep a secret.’
Maggie’s gaze locked onto hers. ‘I’m sure that’s very true,’ she murmured.
A shiver of apprehension ran down Taylor’s back. She struggled to think of something to say, but Maggie moved briskly forward. ‘So, back to Jazzie. The official report says that Lilah Cornell found her sister, Valerie, and that the children were with Lilah when the police arrived, implying that the girls had also been with her when she discovered the body.’
Implying? Oh no. Horrified, Taylor’s temper abruptly fizzled. ‘But they weren’t with her? The girls were alone when they found her?’
Maggie sighed. ‘Specifically Jazzie. She’s eleven and had come home from day camp by herself. Her grandmother was normally there to greet her, but got tied up in traffic doing errands. Jazzie let herself in and . . .’
‘Oh my God,’ Taylor whispered, able to visualize the scene – and Jazzie’s horror.
Maggie sighed again. ‘Lilah got a call from Janie’s preschool a few hours later, when Valerie failed to pick her up. That had apparently happened a few times, when the girls’ mother got delayed at work and lost track of time. Lilah was the emergency contact. She picked up Janie, brought her home, and discovered Valerie on the floor, beaten to death. Lilah fell to pieces when she found her sister’s body, but quickly pulled herself together when she realized that Janie was standing there in shock, seeing everything. And then Lilah realized that Jazzie should have been home already. She said she heard a noise, a whimpering “like a wounded animal”, coming from behind a chair. That was where she found Jazzie, rocking herself and keening. Also in shock.’
‘That poor little girl,’ Taylor murmured. ‘Both of them.’
‘I know. Nobody knows what Jazzie did or didn’t see, because she won’t talk. But based on the video taken by the lobby’s security cameras, she arrived within minutes of the murder. The video shows the mother entering the lobby about an hour before her death, a man with a hoodie following her a minute or two later. Jazzie entered abou
t thirty minutes after that, and then a man wearing a hoodie was filmed leaving.’
‘So he may have still been in the apartment when Jazzie came home.’
‘Yes. The police found that someone had washed up in the kitchen, but all the blood they found belongs to the mother. The man didn’t leave anything that could identify him.’
‘Unless Jazzie saw him while she was hiding behind the chair.’
‘Exactly.’
Taylor suppressed a shudder. ‘Did their mother come home that time of day regularly?’
‘That’s a good question. Apparently she did not, but had taken some time off to see Jazzie’s work at the day camp’s art fair. According to Fitzpatrick, she’d made no unusual calls that day, nor had she received any. Nobody saw her talking to anyone different.’
‘Suspects?’
‘I think the first in line is Valerie’s ex-husband, Gage. He left her three years ago and hasn’t been seen since. He’s a known addict who’d been accused of assaulting Valerie. Apparently, however, he was in Texas at the time of the murder. He’s got a decent alibi, according to Detective Fitzpatrick. Someone who saw him that afternoon.’
Alibis could be falsified, just like birth records, Taylor thought, but she wasn’t about to say that out loud. ‘Do the cops have any leads at all?’
‘Not that they’re sharing. But they want to find out what Jazzie saw, if anything. Lilah called Fitzpatrick today and told him that Jazzie had made an emotional connection with you. He wants you to have ice cream with her in a secure location. He wants to know if she can identify her mother’s killer.’
Taylor grew cold as the importance of this ice-cream date hit her squarely. ‘I’m not sure about this. I’m not a licensed anything yet. I’m a recent college graduate with a degree in psychology. The police must have counselors. What if I fu— I mean, mess this up?’
‘BPD does have counselors, and both Jazzie and Janie will continue to see them. But Jazzie hasn’t connected with them. In the meantime, Lilah’s a nervous wreck, wondering if the killer’s going to figure out that Jazzie was behind that chair.’
