I Can See You

by Karen Rose

  “Yeah, if you don’t count the fact that I’ve been cuffed and questioned.”

  “They cuffed you?” he whispered fiercely, as if he didn’t want Dana to overhear him.

  “Detective Webster took off the cuffs. It was a mistake. The cops that first got here weren’t supposed to do that. Did you keep a copy of that file you sent me?”

  “Eve,” Ethan warned. “What the hell is this all about?”

  “I really don’t know. If anybody catches me talking to you, I’m asking you to get me an attorney. I probably won’t need one, but it’s a believable story. Do you have the file?”

  “Yes.”

  “See if there is a Samantha Altman on the participant list.”

  There was a short silence as he searched. “No Altman on the list.”

  “I didn’t think so. Three women are dead. Two were in my study, Altman wasn’t. They think I’m their only link, but I can’t be.”

  “Don’t say anything else until we get you an attorney,” Ethan said firmly.

  “I’m not a suspect, Ethan. They’re worried I’ll be a victim.”

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” he gritted.

  Two CSU vans had just pulled up, along with an SUV from the ME’s office, followed by a sleek Mercedes. “Not really. If I get arrested, you’ll be my one phone call, okay?”

  “And until then?” Ethan demanded.

  “Until then, I guess we wait. I gotta go. Don’t worry. I’m perfectly safe here.”

  Monday, February 22, 5:10 p.m.

  Noah stared. It was déjà vu all over again. Again. Christy Lewis hung from a rope on a hook in her bedroom. Her dress was the same style as Martha’s and Samantha’s, as were her shoes. One shoe lay on its side while the other stood straight up. The makeup, the upholstered stool, the open window… Everything was the same.

  “My God,” Ian murmured. He walked around the victim. “This is… unreal.”

  Carleton had followed him in. “It certainly is… except it’s very real.”

  “Can you get a time of death, Ian?” Noah asked wearily.

  “Not right now. She’s got the same petachiae in her eyes, the rope’s in the same position. He’s got this down to a science.” Shaking his head, Ian went to work.

  “Did you find her?” Jack asked, and Noah knew he meant Eve.

  “Yeah. Damn locals had her cuffed in the back of their cruiser.”

  Micki looked up from taking pictures, her brow creased in an angry frown. “You unlocked her, didn’t you?” she demanded. She’d been floored when Noah had told her the caller was Eve Wilson. She’d been outraged when Noah had told her Eve worked with Martha Brisbane for Siren Song. You must have made a mistake, she’d said, so adamantly Noah had wondered all the way up here what Micki Ridgewell knew.

  “Of course I unlocked the cuffs.” Noah studied Micki’s face. “Why?”

  Micki shook her head. “She’s just been through a lot, that’s all.”

  Noah knew Micki well enough to know that’s all she’d say. He’d look it up later.

  “This feels like Groundhog Day,” Jack said quietly.

  Noah looked up into Christy Lewis’s “unnatural” eyes. They were glued open, just as the others had been. “I know.”

  “Oh God.” Ian straightened abruptly and looked around the room, alarm on his face.

  “What?” Noah looked around as well, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing he hadn’t seen twice before anyway.

  “Look,” Ian said, then lifted the skirt away from Christy Lewis’s legs.

  Rope burns around her ankles. “He tied her,” Noah said, then saw what Ian was pointing to. He cringed, horrified. Twin pricks on the side of her foot. “Oh my God.”

  Jack bolted back a step, going pale. “Fuck. A goddamn snake. I hate snakes.”

  “They’re more afraid of us,” Micki said, then her lips twitched. “Maybe not of Jack.”

  “From the necrosis around the bite, it was venomous,” Ian said.

  Jack paled even more. “F—” He couldn’t even get the oath out.

  “Jack?” Carleton turned to study Jack’s face. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” Jack managed, but his rapid shallow breathing and pallor said no.

  Carleton gave Micki a look of reproof. “It’s not funny,” he said seriously.

  Micki took pity on Jack. “Everybody out until we know the house is clear,” she said.

  Jack didn’t have to be told again. “Bye. Meet you by the car.”

  Carleton checked his watch. “Luckily I have a patient appointment at 6:30, so I’ll leave you all to your snake hunting.” He took a last look at the victim. “This killer is a fascinating personality. I don’t think I’ve ever read anything like this in the literature. I’ll do some in-depth research tonight. Consult with my colleagues.”

  “Can you check on Jack?” Micki asked. “I’m feeling a little bad for laughing at him.”

  Carleton nodded, a frown of reproach on his face. “I will. And you should.”

  “I’ll wait outside with Jack,” Noah said when Carleton and Ian had gone, leaving just himself and Micki. And the victim, of course. He thought of Eve Wilson, sitting outside in his car. “And I want to know how Eve connects to it all. What do you know, Mick?”

  “What happened to her, in Chicago… was bad. Any more needs to come from her.”

  “Suggestions?”

  Micki’s eyes shadowed. “If you run into a wall, call Olivia Sutherland.”

  “Olivia?” She was one of their homicide detectives. “How does she connect?”

  “She’s a friend of Eve’s family. Just… be kind. And keep Jack muzzled.”

  Chapter Six

  Monday, February 22, 5:15 p.m.

  Detective Olivia Sutherland’s eyes were tearing over her partner’s dinner. “Jennie’s going to kill you when I tell her what you’ve been eating.” She waved the air between them. “Not that I need to. Those onions will do it for me.”

  “She’s out of town,” Kane said. “Back on Thursday.” He waggled his brows in a way that always made her laugh. “Could be worse. Could be sardines.”

  “God, I’m glad you gave that up.” She shuddered. “I’d forgotten about those.”

  “What are you doing for dinner?”

  “After that thing, I have no appetite. I got a few pounds left to lose anyway.”

  “You’re fine.” Which was what he always said, but Olivia knew differently. She’d gained a little weight after some surgery a few years back and she still wasn’t back to top condition. She’d expected her metabolism would slow down, but she never dreamed it would happen at thirty-one. And of course Kane could eat whatever he wanted and never gain a damn ounce. It wasn’t fair. And it was disrupting her job.

  “Which was why I lost that creep this afternoon,” she muttered. To be outrun by a teenager was one thing, but to lose a middle-aged dealer whose primary exercise was the heavy breathing he did while snorting coke… She was still kicking herself.

  “Liv, he caught a ride. No way he could have outrun you like that. He’s probably in the wind,” Kane said, speaking of the DA’s star witness, the dealer who’d given her the slip. “We wait until he pops his head up again. DA doesn’t need him till next week.”

  “You’re right,” she murmured, then answered her cell phone, knowing it was Abbott as soon as she heard the opening bars from “Bad to the Bone.” “Sutherland.”

  “I need you two on this hanger case. We need to find one Cassandra Lee. She runs a phone sex operation called Siren Song.”

  “We’re looking for Dustin Hanks,” she said. “DA needs him in court.”

  “This is more important. Faye’s waiting with the addresses we have for this Lee.”

  Olivia handed the phone to Kane. “It’s Faye. We’re being pulled into Webster’s hanger case. And try not to get onions in my phone.”

  Monday, February 22, 6:45 p.m.

  At least they hadn’t c
uffed her again. Eve sat alone in the interview room at the precinct. It had been almost an hour. A cup of coffee sat untouched, its aroma taunting her churning stomach. All she could see in her mind was Christy Lewis. Hanging there.

  Three women were dead. Somebody killed them. And they think I know who.

  You have to tell them, Eve. You have to tell them everything.

  Deliberately Eve turned her head and stared at what she knew was a two-way mirror. Her own eyes stared back, dark and angry. “Fine,” she muttered. “I will.”

  “Excuse me?” The door opened and Webster came through it. Jack Phelps was right behind him. Jack had spoken. “We missed that.”

  “You were watching me? All this time?”

  “No. We came in just as you spoke.” Webster put a bag on the table. “A sandwich.”

  She pushed it away. “I can’t eat. But thank you.”

  Webster sat across the table. “We’ve been trying to get in touch with your boss.”

  Eve kept her face expressionless, but her stomach turned over. Donner was going to shit a ring. When this had been about suicide, it had been possible a discipline committee would have taken her side over his. But it wasn’t about suicide or Martha’s state of mind. She was a lowly grad student who’d broken double-blind. I’m on my own.

  The help she’d give the police would be at her own professional peril. “My boss.”

  Webster’s eyes were steady as he studied her. Something had changed from when he’d first removed her cuffs and placed her in his car back at Christy’s house. He’d been disapproving then. Now, she saw gentleness. And concern. And compassion.

  Dammit. He knew. She could always tell when they knew. No one in the bar ever asked, unless they were drunk, and Sal would kick their asses out of the place. But when they found out, they’d always look, and they’d whisper.

  “Yes,” he said, “your boss. We need a personnel list.”

  Eve frowned. “Why?”

  “Because we need to know who’s in danger there.”

  A personnel list? That didn’t make any sense. She was about to tell him so when the door opened and a well-dressed man in his mid-thirties entered.

  “Don’t say a word,” he cautioned. It was Callie’s defense attorney date. “I’m Matthew Nillson. I’ve been retained as Eve’s attorney. May I speak with my client?”

  “When did you call a lawyer?” Webster asked.

  Eve shrugged, her eyes wide. “I didn’t.”

  Matt shot her a warning look. “Make sure you turn the speaker off, Detective.” When they were gone, Matt sat. “Do you know the meaning of ‘Don’t say a word’?”

  She ignored that, going for the obvious issue. “I can’t afford to pay you.”

  “It’s okay. I do pro bono every so often. Callie called me. She drove to the scene, but the police said you’d been taken away. She was very upset.”

  “I didn’t mean to scare her. Look, Matt, I really appreciate you coming, but I don’t think I need an attorney. After today I’ll need a new career, but not an attorney.”

  “Callie said you’d say you didn’t need me. Did they let you keep your cell phone?”

  Eve sighed. “No.”

  He nodded, as if that were all the proof he needed. “Tell me your story, Eve. Let me decide if you need me or not.”

  Eve considered it. “You’re my lawyer, right? So everything we say is privileged.”

  He lifted his brows. “With a few exceptions.”

  “I didn’t kill anybody. But, if you can secure anonymity for my testimony, that would be a big help. So. From the beginning. Two years ago I got into grad school…”

  Monday, February 22, 7:00 p.m.

  Abbott, Jack, and Noah stood at the mirror, watching Eve in the interview room with Matthew Nillson, the speaker turned off. “I want to know what she knows,” Abbott said. “Damn attorneys.”

  “She’s probably worried she’s in trouble for being a phone sex provider,” Jack said. “We should have questioned her in the car.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Abbott asked, annoyed.

  “I wanted to,” Jack said. “Mr. White Knight here wouldn’t let me say a damn word.”

  Noah glared at him before returning his attention to Eve. “I wanted to know what I was dealing with.” Now he did. And it was worse than he’d ever imagined.

  Abbott blew out a breath. “Now she’s lawyered up.”

  “I don’t think she killed any of these women, Bruce,” Noah said. “Do you?”

  “I don’t want to. But until she tells us what she knows, she’s a suspect. Got it?”

  Noah opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. “Got it.”

  “So what are we dealing with?” Abbott asked.

  Noah didn’t take his eyes off her face, not wanting to remember all the things he’d just read about Evelyn Jayne Wilson, knowing he’d never be able to forget. “She was assaulted, almost six years ago, left for dead. In fact she did die, twice, on the way to the hospital.” Bile burned his throat, thinking of what Eve had endured. Stabbed, strangled. Assaulted. “She recovered, some. Then two years later, she was kidnapped.”

  Abbott’s eyes widened. “Same perp?”

  “No, different one. She was working for a shelter aiding battered women escaping their abusers. Dangerous stuff. You remember that woman in Chicago a few years back? The one that kidnapped a deaf kid, then killed something like a dozen people?”

  “Yeah,” Abbott said slowly and pointed to Eve. “You mean she…”

  “Was kidnapped by this killer, too. The Chicago cops credit Eve with saving the kidnapped boy’s life. She didn’t kill these women, Bruce.”

  Abbott sighed heavily. “But she knows who did.”

  “She knows something. I think if she knew who did it, she would have already told us.”

  “See if you can get her to talk about Siren Song, at least to tell us where we can find the owner, Cassandra Lee. I’ve got Sutherland and Kane looking for her.”

  “And Sutherland and Kane found her.” Olivia Sutherland entered the observation room from the hall. “And lost her again. Faye said I’d find you here. Cassandra Lee lives in Uptown. By the time Kane and I got down there, she’d left. Her doorman said he hailed her a cab. He said he didn’t hear where she told the cab to go.”

  “Did you believe him?” Noah asked.

  Olivia shrugged. In her early thirties, she was blonde, graceful, and a damn good cop. Micki said Olivia was Eve’s family friend. Noah had questions, but he’d save them.

  “No,” she said, “but we couldn’t prove he was lying. Kane’s pulling her credit cards to try to track her. We alerted area airports, bus stations, and rental car facilities.” She started, staring at the mirror. “What’s Eve Wilson doing here?”

  “She found the last victim,” Noah said. “She called me.”

  Olivia’s lips closed tightly.

  “What?” Abbott demanded.

  “She called me, too,” Olivia said. “Earlier this afternoon. She left a message on my phone at my desk. I was just about to call her back. How does she know the victim?”

  “Victims,” Abbott said. “She knew Martha and Christy. From Siren Song.”

  “No way. No how. Eve is not mixed up with sex ops. Let me talk to her.”

  “That’s her lawyer,” Jack said. “Good luck.”

  Olivia knocked on the window and Matthew Nillson came out to the observation room. “I’m a family friend. I’m going to talk to her.”

  Olivia started to push past, but Nillson stopped her. “My client wants to talk to you all, too, but she’s afraid of the impact it will have on her work.”

  “What impact?” Jack asked. “Guys call, get off, she gets paid. Where’s the impact?”

  Nillson stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your client,” Abbott said. “She works for a company called Siren Song. They provide phone sex services.”

  Nillson was still staring. “And you think
Eve works for them?”

  “She knew Martha Brisbane from work,” Noah said. “Martha worked for Siren Song.”

  “We have epic misunderstanding here,” Nillson said. “Eve’s a grad student working on her master’s in psychology. She knows Martha and Christy through her duties there. She thought it was strange that you asked for a personnel list. Now that makes sense.”

  “So Eve doesn’t work for Siren Song?” Abbott asked carefully.

  Thank God. When Noah saw her at Martha’s, he’d thought it was fate. Maybe it was.

  Nillson shook his head. “Um, no. She does not work for Siren Song.”

  “Told you,” Olivia said with satisfaction. “So why did she want a lawyer?”

  “Because she’s found herself in a corner. She’s seen information she shouldn’t have seen. Information that led her to two of the victims. She’s worried that if her role in helping you comes out, she’ll be expelled. She’d like to be a confidential informant.”

  “A CI?” She was staring into the mirror, but Noah got the impression she wasn’t looking at them, but at herself. He’d watched her tending bar, watching everyone else so cautiously. Knowing about her background, her innate caution made perfect sense.

  He’d watched her, wishing he was a different man, wanting to shield her from himself. Now she needed shielding from whatever danger she’d stumbled into.

  Noah cleared his throat. “We can proceed on a CI basis, right, Bruce?”

  Abbott was also watching Eve, thoughtfully. He nodded. “Okay. For now.”

  “Then, let’s begin,” Matthew said. “She has a hell of a story for you.”

  Monday, February 22, 7:20 p.m.

  Eve was relieved when Olivia came through the door. Webster and Phelps followed, along with Abbott, their captain. Matt closed the door as Olivia took the seat next to her.

  “They’ve agreed to keep your role confidential,” Matt said taking his seat.

  Eve nodded, still guarded. “I appreciate that.”

  Webster sat across from her. Again, something was different. Where she’d seen anger and compassion, now his eyes flickered with relief. Matt looked almost amused.