I Can See You

by Karen Rose

  “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was talking to the real Buckland’s boss.”

  “I know. Olivia told me.”

  She pressed her face harder against him. “What could make him hate you so much, hate Looey so much? My God, Noah, Looey’s probably dead.”

  “I know,” he whispered. “We’ll figure it out. Until then, you don’t leave my sight.”

  “Okay.” She held on to him until Olivia came into the hall and cleared her throat.

  “He wants to talk to you, Noah,” she said. “Come on, Eve, I’ll get you that coffee.”

  Noah rested his hands on the rail at Hunter’s side. “You don’t look too bad.”

  Hunter was lying back, eyes closed. “If it had been Eve in that car, she would be dead. She doesn’t have the strength in her hand to have fought with the wheel.”

  Noah blew out a breath. “I know. I also know Olivia’s a damn good cop. She’s on it.”

  “Last night I asked Eve if anybody’s looking at this guy for the Shadowland murders. I said the timing was too coincidental. She said it was in your mind.”

  “It is. And I know it’s in Liv’s, too. We’ll be working this together.”

  “Well, here’s another piece. I just told Olivia. Monday night when you came by, I’d put in those baby monitor cameras.”

  “The pink ones. I remember.”

  “Eve thought it was because of the Shadowland thing, that I was being overzealous. I didn’t tell her this, didn’t want her to worry any more than she already was. She told you she’d been having issues with her landlord?”

  “She said her roof leaked.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s pretty much let the place go to pot. When I first got there, when I was waiting for her to come back? I went up on the roof to check out the damage. The holes I found were man-made.”

  Noah stared down at him. “You think her landlord’s behind all this?”

  “God, I don’t know. I almost didn’t say anything because it sounds so crazy.”

  “No, it’s good you did,” Noah said. “Olivia and I will check it out.”

  “Olivia said Eve would get police protection.”

  Grimly Noah recalled the terror that had ripped him inside out until she’d answered her phone, until he’d heard her voice. Known she was all right. “Yes.” Me.

  Hunter met Noah’s eyes with his open one. “Other than you?”

  “Yes. If that’s what she wants. Otherwise, it’ll be me.”

  “Okay. I told her to give you a chance, but I want it to be her decision. I don’t want her to feel for—” Hunter froze. “What is this ring?”

  Noah looked down at his own right hand on the side rail. “My college ring. Why?”

  “I never saw his face, but I saw his hands. I looked over as he was coming up on me and I saw his hand on the steering wheel. He had tinted windows on the sides and back, but not on the windshield, so I could see him. Just barely.”

  Noah’s pulse jolted. Something they could use. “I take it he wore a ring like mine.”

  “Yeah,” Hunter said grimly. “Just like that one.”

  “It’s a common design, but a place to start. I’ll tell Olivia and see where we end up.”

  “Excuse me, Detective.” A nurse pushed in front of him. “Mr. Hunter has to go up to get his CAT scan now. You can wait in the waiting room.”

  “Okay,” Noah said, then leaned over the rail. “Don’t worry. She’ll be safe with me.”

  Eve handed Noah a cup of coffee from the vending machine when he rejoined them. “Extra sugar. Probably not sweet enough, but the best you’ll get from a machine.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “Come on, let’s find a place for the three of us to talk.”

  “Eve,” Olivia started when they’d found a quiet corner of the waiting room, “I know you think he’s got Noah in his sights and you got in the way, but we have to look at the possibility that you could be the target.”

  “Look at it all you want,” Eve said. “It’s not me.”

  “Still,” Noah said, “we want you to make a list of everybody that might want to hurt you or has a grudge against you. Include your landlord.”

  Eve’s eyes widened. “You’ve got to be kidding. Myron Daulton? If David said that, he hit his head harder than we thought.”

  “You’re blocking Daulton from selling that building and making a bundle,” Noah said.

  “I know, but…” Eve sighed. “Okay, I’ll make a list. But that guy posing as Buckland is not Myron Daulton, I can tell you that right now. Myron’s about fifty and built like Homer Simpson. What about prints? Did you get any from what I gave you?”

  “He’s not in the system,” Olivia said. “We ran the prints on that business card and the copy of that old photo you brought me, Eve. They matched prints we found in Looey’s place, so we can put him there, but no match in AFIS.”

  Noah’s brows shot up. “You were busy today,” he said to Eve.

  “I’ve had my moments,” Eve said dryly. “I want to know why he impersonated Looey to start with and if this is personal about you, Noah—which it is—what did you do to this guy? Or what does he think you did? I’ve seen a killer bent on revenge up close, and this guy was all about revenge. About showing you up and making you pay.”

  “You and Jack should go back through your old cases,” Olivia said. “For the record.”

  “If Jack and I arrested him, he would have shown up in AFIS.”

  “Not if he was a juvenile at the time,” Eve said. “Or the revenge is for someone else.”

  Olivia and Noah shared an amused glance. “You want my job, Eve?” Olivia asked.

  Eve smiled sadly. “You have no idea how much. But bum hand, so no can do.”

  Olivia patted Eve’s knee. “It’s overrated. And you can’t chase your own demons. You gotta be satisfied with chasing everybody else’s.” She looked back at Noah. “It’s almost time for Abbott’s five o’clock meeting. What should we do with Eve?”

  “She has to come with us,” Noah said.

  “Excuse me,” Eve said. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here, with David.”

  “The doctors won’t let you stay with him,” Noah said. “They’ll watch him overnight and they’ll make you leave. Plus you’re having dinner with me.”

  Night off. Callie. “What about my friend, Callie? He has her cell phone number. He may know where she lives.” She heard the panic in her voice and swallowed it back.

  Olivia frowned. “How did he get her cell phone number?”

  “Jeremy Lyons. He didn’t believe me yesterday morning so he told the reporter-guy how to get in touch with my friends, who’d give him the real story.”

  “Where’s Callie now?” Olivia asked.

  “Taking my shift at Sal’s.”

  Olivia nodded. “Then she’s safe where she is. I’ll make sure the word gets out that if he shows up at Sal’s, they should keep him there. I’ll have someone escort her home. As for you, we’ll leave you here if you do not leave the waiting room. We’ll give hospital security a copy of the artist’s sketch, so they’ll be watching for him.”

  “I’ll stay here where it’s safe,” Eve promised. “I’m not stupid.”

  Wednesday, February 24, 4:55 p.m.

  “Is Eve okay?” Jack asked when Noah sat next to him at Abbott’s small round table.

  He and Olivia had arrived for Abbott’s five o’clock update to find everyone already gathered around the table except for Ian, who was in the middle of an autopsy.

  “Yeah. She was here at the time, actually,” Noah answered, “working with a sketch artist to identify the guy who’s been impersonating Kurt Buckland.”

  Jack’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Somebody’s been impersonating Kurt Buckland? When were you going to tell me this?”

  Noah let out a sigh. Somewhere in his frazzled mind, he thought he had. “I’m sorry, Jack. We haven’t had much time to talk today, what with us driving separately.”

&
nbsp; Abbott cleared his throat, moving over to give Olivia a seat. “Let’s share all that in turn,” he said frowning at both Noah and Jack. “Anything from last night’s scene?”

  “We got the composition of both the accelerant he used,” Micki said, “and the flame suppressant. Both are common brands, available anywhere. No way to trace them. We’ve combed four scenes now, including Samantha Altman’s after the fact. We’ve found no prints, no hairs, nothing to track this guy forensically.”

  “He’s probably shaved himself all over,” Carleton said. “It’s common with serial killers. The really successful ones know how not to leave a trail.”

  “Thank goodness they’re overachievers,” Abbott said sarcastically. “What about Rachel Ward? Do we know where she met this guy?”

  “At the Last Call Bar,” Kane said. “We should thank Eve, by the way. Her narrowing the list to the later-closing bars saved me a lot of time.”

  Carleton turned to Kane. “Did Rachel Ward normally hang out at the Last Call?”

  “No,” Kane said. “The bartender said he’d only seen her last night. She was waiting for a man, and got drunker the longer she waited. He took her keys and called her a cab. I confirmed with the cab company. By the time the cab arrived, Rachel was gone.”

  “Security cameras?” Abbott asked.

  “Broken. Probably for years,” Kane replied. “No help there. I can go back tonight and see if any of the regulars spotted anyone hanging out in the parking lot.”

  “Do that.” Abbott drew a frustrated breath. “Let me get this straight, so that I don’t misrepresent us when I give the commander his evening update. We have no forensics at any of the scenes. Donner’s alibied by his wife and Girard is alibied by us. Jeremy Lyons is still missing. Everyone else has a solid alibi, including the brother of the latest victim, or the first victim, Amy Millhouse.”

  “I thought you said you checked all the suicide reports,” Carleton said.

  “We did. But we missed it because her brother cut her down and changed her clothes. Cleaned her face and everything,” Noah said.

  “I take it you brought the brother in, then, Jack,” Olivia said. “But he’s alibied, too?”

  Jack nodded. “He’s in Interview Four with his lawyer. He was flying back from a business trip in Chicago and I confirmed that he was there this morning. I thought if Millhouse wasn’t in any meetings this morning that it would have been possible for him to drive there after he killed Rachel Ward, then fly back, establishing an alibi.”

  “It would have been a clever thing to do,” Carleton allowed. “Very much in keeping with this killer’s profile. It would have been good thinking, Jack, had it worked.”

  Jack sighed. “Thanks. But Millhouse was in meetings from 8:00 a.m. right up until the time he left for the airport and he was in his hotel at seven. There’s no way he could have made it from here to Chicago, even if he’d driven straight from Rachel Ward’s house. He’s not our killer, even though he works with glue. It would have been perfect.”

  “Did he say anything about his sister Amy playing in Shadowland?” Noah asked.

  “No. He hasn’t said a word. Called his lawyer right away.”

  Abbott scowled. “Ramsey says the most they’re willing to charge him with is disturbing a corpse, and they probably won’t do that. We’ll talk to the brother once more when we’re done here, then cut him loose.”

  “What about Amy’s residence?” Noah asked, but Jack shook his head.

  “New tenants already. I doubt we’d find anything after all this time. Building manager said they overhauled the place, painting, cleaning carpets. It’s a shi-shi neighborhood.”

  “So do we know what the scene looked like?” Micki asked.

  “Only that they changed her clothes,” Jack said. “That’s all Mom said earlier and brother Larry hasn’t spoken. Ian will call us with Amy Millhouse’s autopsy report. Amy was cremated, so we couldn’t exhume her if we wanted to.”

  “Thanks,” Noah murmured.

  Jack jerked a nod. “Sure.”

  “We do have a little good news,” Abbott said, but his expression didn’t show it. “Axel Girard’s financials show he was issued a credit card two months ago and it was mailed to a post office box in St. Paul.”

  “That seems way too obvious,” Noah said, “like catching Girard’s car on the surveillance video while he waited for Christy Lewis. It seems too simple.”

  “Because it is,” Kane said. “I went to the box in St. Paul with a warrant but it was empty. There was a forwarding order—all mail was sent to a mailbox store downtown. Which was forwarded to another P.O. box right across the street.”

  Abbott pointed to his window. “You can see the post office branch from here.”

  “That box,” Kane said, “was full. Mostly junk mail, but the credit card was there.”

  “So far no charges have been made to the card,” Abbott said.

  “He never intended to use it,” Olivia said quietly. “He set this up, just like he’s set up the scene of every crime, to divert us.”

  “And he was successful.” Kane shook his head. “Had me running all over town, all afternoon, when I should have been talking to Rachel Ward’s coworkers.”

  “How is this good news?” Micki asked.

  “Because it adds to the profile. He’s playing with us,” Carleton said sourly. “He hasn’t missed a step.”

  “Yet,” Noah said grimly.

  “Yet,” Carleton repeated. “This man, and it’s almost assuredly a man, exhibits a compulsion for order and control. Every scene, just right, exactly the same. The clues you’ve found are of his design—the dress, the shoes, the scene itself. No hairs, no fibers left behind. He knows what you’ll look for and how you’ll search.”

  “He could just watch a lot of television,” Jack grumbled.

  “Perhaps,” Carleton said. “Or he could be trained.”

  Abbott leaned back, troubled. “He could be a cop?”

  “Perhaps,” Carleton repeated with a slight frown. “The need for order and control are often characteristics seen in law enforcement. No offense intended, of course,” he added quickly when everyone around the table frowned. “I see a contempt for women, in the way he lures them away from their homes, and there is a cruelty as he forces them to experience their worst fears. This is also another show of control.”

  “Why contempt for women?” Abbott asked. “Does he hate his mother or something?”

  “Not all men hate women because they hate their mothers, Bruce,” Carleton said, “but it is the most common factor. We all had mothers of some kind. It’s entirely possible his contempt for women stems from a poor relationship with his mother. It could also stem from abuse. I’d say that’s more likely given the hands-on violence with which he kills them.”

  “Why glue their eyes?” Micki asked and Carleton sighed.

  “He wants them to look at him, to know who it is who dominates them.”

  “But he doesn’t sexually assault them,” Jack said. “Why not?”

  “He doesn’t feel he needs to,” Carleton said. “He’s stronger than that.”

  “No. He’s afraid of them,” Olivia said and everyone turned to look at her, surprised.

  Carleton’s brows lifted. “Excuse me?”

  Olivia moved her shoulders restlessly. “No offense, Doc, but to have them nude and tied in a straitjacket and not assault them? He dresses them up, paints their faces, gives them sexy shoes… Leaves them looking like whores.”

  Noah considered it. “He picks lonely women who haven’t had physical sex with a man in some time and makes them whores in every way but the most physical way.”

  “And then he hangs them and waits for them to be found,” Jack finished. “He never starts on the next victim until his last has been discovered.”

  “That’s the compulsion for order,” Carleton said. “Your theory is an interesting one, Olivia, but I don’t see fear here. Just intelligence, power, and control.”<
br />
  “And arrogance,” Kane added. “Setting up a post office box right across the street.”

  “I’ve met very few arrogant killers that were patient,” Noah said thoughtfully. “All of his victims were discovered within a few days of their murder except for Martha. She hung there for more than a week. I wonder if he got impatient while he waited. What might he do, Carleton? If his order was disturbed?”

  “I think that depends on why he’s doing this,” Carleton replied. “He’s taunting you with clues that lead you to nothing. Maybe he just hates cops.”

  “Or fears them,” Olivia added stubbornly and Carleton smiled.

  “Or fears them,” he allowed. “I’ve researched case studies and found nothing similar. This killer is unique.”

  “Three cheers for us,” Abbott said sarcastically.

  “Captain?” Faye peeked around the door, entering when Abbott waved her in. “We just got a call from somebody who saw the story on the TV news. She says she saw Martha Brisbane on February 13.”

  “The night she died,” Noah said. “Who is this woman?”

  “Priscilla Bolyard. She was sitting with her husband in a coffee shop and Martha sat next to the window for a long time, obviously waiting for someone, then left at 9:15.”

  “How did she remember the exact time?” Noah asked.

  “Because her husband wanted to get home to watch a fight on pay-per-view, so they left right behind Martha. Here’s their contact info— Priscilla and Stuart Bolyard.” Faye made an apprehensive face. “Mrs. Bolyard specifically requested ‘that handsome detective on the MSP cover.’ They’re saving all the details for you, Jack.”

  Jack slouched in his chair, his face darkening. “Wonderful,” he muttered.

  “We’ll talk to them,” Noah said.

  “Wait,” Abbott said when Noah started to stand. “Nobody leaves yet. The Buckland case. Sit down, tell us what you know, and how it connects.”

  Wednesday, February 24, 5:15 p.m.

  Eve settled on a vinyl sofa in the waiting room and started up her laptop. David was still getting scanned, so she had time. Logging in to Shadowland, she was relieved to see Kathy Kirk wheeling and dealing from Ninth Circle. Eve made a note to ask Noah to provide Kathy protection tonight. None of her female red-zones were safe, but Kathy’s condition made her particularly vulnerable.