If She Knew

by Blake Pierce

  The biggest pro, of course, was that the victims were easy pickings. And based on the women he had selected—very attractive women who tended to stay at home, in their late twenties or early thirties—Amber Hills provided a promising group of victims. By staying in one centralized location, it was easier to pick your targets and to get a proper lay of the land. If the killer lived elsewhere in town, it also kept the investigation centralized in one place while he was very likely hiding somewhere else.

  But then there were the cons. In a small area, the likelihood of someone seeing him would be much greater. It also meant that escaping through smaller side streets within the neighborhood would make a fast getaway virtually impossible. Someone would notice a speeding car and, in such a neighborhood, would likely report it out of fear of kids getting hurt.

  If we had even just a hint of motive, it would help wonders, Kate thought as she closed one of the several files she had accumulated.

  Her phone rang as she reached for another file. The name and number were familiar and for a moment, she almost didn’t answer it. But she figured maybe stepping away and shifting her mind to something else for even just a few moments could be a massive help.

  Reading Allen Goldman’s name, she grabbed up her phone and stepped away from the table. “This will just take a moment,” she told DeMarco as she hurried into the living room.

  “Hey, Allen,” she said, taking the call.

  “Hey,” he said. “I was honestly expecting to have to leave a message.”

  “Then why not just text?”

  “I was hoping for the off chance you would actually answer. Also, the other night on the porch you told me to call next time. So here I am…calling.”

  “I appreciate that,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

  “For one, wrap up this case you’re on by Friday. I want to take you out to dinner.”

  “Well, I’ve got more than this case right now,” she said. “Melissa had her baby.”

  “What? She wasn’t due for like another what…five or six weeks?”

  “Yeah. Little Michelle came early. She and Melissa are doing fine, though. I’ve already been able to hold her twice.”

  “That’s great, Kate. So you’re officially a grandmother now. How’s it feel?”

  “Better than I thought. It’s sort of amazing, actually.”

  “Good. Well, for you, anyway. Sounds like your life is absolutely nuts right now. My timing…it’s just wretched, huh?”

  “It is. But that’s okay. We can—”

  She was interrupted by a beep on her phone—an incoming call. She quickly checked the display and saw that it was Chief Budd calling.

  “Speaking of bad timing,” she said, “I have to get this. It’s about the case.”

  “Okay,” he said, trying to hide the sigh in his voice but failing.

  “But Allen…thanks for calling. And maybe do it again soon, okay?”

  “Absolutely. G’night, Kate. “

  Kate switched over to the incoming call, hoping Budd calling meant that there was finally some sort of break. Maybe from the coroner or someone on his investigative team.

  “This is Wise,” she answered.

  “Agent Wise, this is Randall Budd. Are you still in Richmond or have you gone back to DC?”

  “Still in Richmond. Why? What’s up?”

  “We’ve got another body. This one is very fresh.”

  “Amber Hills?” Kate asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What’s the address? We can be there in twenty minutes.”

  Budd gave her the address and she was not at all surprised to find that it was on the same street Lacy Thurmond had lived on. She ended the call and headed into the kitchen where DeMarco was eating an egg roll and looking through the coroner’s reports.

  “Study session is over,” Kate said. “Budd just called. There’s been another murder.”

  “Holy shit,” DeMarco said. “How long ago?”

  “He says it’s fresh. No details yet. Let’s just get over there as soon as we can.”

  Yet even before the comment was out of Kate’s mouth, DeMarco was shoveling the remainder of the egg roll into her mouth and getting up from the table. Kate was starting to appreciate DeMarco more and more. Her go-get-’em attitude and teachability made her miss Logan a little less. Though, to be honest, she did miss the sarcastic back and forth they had shared most of the time.

  But maybe such a thing took time to develop between partners. While she had not quite reached that point with her first partner, it had come naturally for her and Logan. And now, with DeMarco as her partner, she was beginning to understand that all partnerships evolved in their own different way. And as she and DeMarco raced out of her house, she looked forward to seeing where this new partnership would go.

  Hopefully, she thought, it will lead to closing this case.

  As she got into the car and slammed it into Drive, she thought of that first partner from twenty-seven years ago. She’d partnered with him for nearly ten years and they had never gotten close emotionally. But he had been one hell of a mentor and during her time away from the bureau, she’d thought of him often.

  And he was there again, at the edge of her mind, as she sped toward Amber Hills. She wondered what his take on this case would be. His wisdom and experience may see the case from a different perspective. She mulled over this, wondering if he’d even take her calls anymore.

  It was something to consider. If this next crime scene offered nothing of substance, maybe she’d reach out

  But she couldn’t go there yet. Instead, she chose to hope that the next crime scene would offer something—perhaps some clue, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant.

  Besides, even at fifty-five years of age, her life was still evolving. She was a grandmother now. She had a man who was very interested in her. And she was back on the job, on a case that was proving to be among her toughest. To dredge the past back up seemed to make no sense.

  So with the present and the future in mind, they closed in on Amber Hills as night slowly started to fall around Richmond.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  The house was just like any of the others along most stretches of Amber Hills. The only thing that made it stand out was the blue and red flashing lights from the police sirens, strobing against the dusk. When Kate pulled her car in behind one of the six police cars on the scene, she noticed that there were other police cars parked all along the sides of the streets. It seemed that the police were doing everything they could to keep prying eyes from getting a good glimpse at what was going on.

  As she walked up the sidewalk, she saw Chief Budd on the porch, speaking to a pair of officers. Kate hurried toward him and when he noticed her approaching, he instantly stopped the conversation with the other officers.

  “That was quick,” Budd said.

  “You said this one was fresh. I wanted to keep it like that. Where’s the body?”

  “Come with me,” he said. “I’ve already told everyone that when you got here, it’s your show. CSI is even going to wait until you’re done. Unless you want them.”

  “Just keep them close,” Kate said. “I’m not trying to slow this down for anyone.”

  “Well, that shouldn’t be a problem. So far, it seems as cut and dried as all the rest. Only…well, I guess dried is the wrong word.”

  “What?” DeMarco asked, confused.

  “You’ll see,” Budd said as he led them inside.

  He led them down the main hall to where a flight of stairs led to the second floor. He marched down the upstairs hallway, into the master bedroom. Kate saw that the bathroom door was open and as they neared it, she could actually smell the blood.

  As she headed for the door, an agonizing wail filled the house. It was a male’s voice, coming from downstairs.

  “That’s the husband,” Budd said. “He came home and found his wife exactly like you’re about to see her. He called nine-one-one and the first officer o
n the scene found him passed out in his own puke right over there,” he said, pointing to the far side of the king-sized bed.

  Kate carefully stepped into the bathroom. It was muggy and moist, but that was not nearly the worst of it. A woman lay on the bathroom floor, staring up at the ceiling. She was completely naked, making the stab wounds to her chest, abdomen, and pelvic area easy to see.

  While the stab wounds were grisly indeed, it was the woman’s face that shook Kate. She knew this woman. She had seen her in the last few days.

  Behind her, DeMarco gave voice to what was on Kate’s lips. “That’s Taylor Woodward.”

  “You know her?” Budd asked.

  “Not personally,” Kate said. “We questioned her with another woman yesterday. They were both friends of Julie Hicks and Lacy Thurmond. The other woman present was Wendy Hudson. And please send a car to her house right now. Three out of four friends is not a coincidence. Wendy Hudson needs to be placed in protective custody as far as I’m concerned.”

  “I’ll get on that right now,” Budd said. When he quickly turned away from the bathroom door, he seemed glad to do so.

  DeMarco stepped up beside Kate, both women now standing in the bathroom. There was a pool of standing water at the back of the shower, puddled up on the floor. Some of the copious amounts of blood that had spilled from Taylor’s body had mingled with it, turning it into an almost pretty kind of fractal pattern.

  “This isn’t exactly the same as the others,” Kate said.

  “I noticed that, too,” DeMarco said. “There’s a stab wound just above the vagina. More than a stab; he stabbed and then sliced up and down. It’s intentional. If you’re aiming for the heart and the stomach, you don’t miss by that much.”

  “And that’s a pretty blatant spot to aim for,” Kate said, doing her best not to grimace at the sight. “Like you said…this was intentional. It’s the first sign from this killer that this was more than just murder. I think this might be the first sign of a murder of emotion. Sexual in nature, I’d safely assume.”

  “So why her and not the others?” DeMarco asked.

  “I guess we need to find that out.”

  The tortured wailing of the husband filled the house again. There was rage in his screams as well as sorrow. He wanted vengeance. The lacing of obscenities that followed his mournful cries was further proof of this.

  Kate stepped further into the bathroom, careful to watch for any other stray water. She hunkered down and looked for any stray streaks or marks on the white tiled floor. While she saw nothing of the sort, she did see a small white fragment of something, all the way over by the edge of the shower.

  She inched a little closer, careful not to disturb the body. With a few more steps, she realized what she was looking at. It was a portion of a tooth.

  “She was hit,” Kate said. “See this piece of tooth?”

  DeMarco nodded and then got closer to the body. She leaned down and looked at Taylor Woodward’s face. “Very slight bruising just above her upper lip on the left side. If she was struck, it’ll be more than enough to get a print.”

  “This guy’s smart,” she said. “Not a single print yet—not on a body, on a doorknob, nothing. I’m suspecting he wears gloves.”

  “Any theories on how this played out?” DeMarco asked.

  “All the water on the floor makes me think he just grabbed her right out of the shower,” Kate said. “But the lack of any real sign of a struggle makes me think it was another case of Taylor knowing the killer, or at least expecting someone she knew. He got in easily enough. I’d even venture that he knew she was showering.”

  “You think this is another affair-related thing, too? That sort of knowledge about someone’s schedule…”

  “Well, but the husband had to have come home very soon after she was killed. If the killer was a lover or something, you’d think they’d be more careful with their time tables.” She looked around the bathroom one more time and shook her head. “Something just doesn’t add up here.”

  “We need to speak with the husband,” DeMarco said.

  “For sure. But from the sound of it, he’s not in the best state. In the meantime, I think we should have a look around the rest of the house. Maybe even outside.”

  They both slowly left the bathroom, Kate giving the body one last look. As grisly as it seemed, her eyes kept going back to that stab wound below the waist. It showed intention, maybe even the kind of malice and spite that had been absent from the other two scenes.

  He’s either starting to enjoy the act of killing more or there was something different about Taylor Woodward, Kate thought. If it’s the latter, that could point to motive or a solid lead.

  She also thought about something Tate O’Brien had said when she’d spoken with him.

  DeMarco had asked him: “So you did it for love?”

  His response had been: No. It was just my wife for love. It was out of rage for her lover. And that third one…if I’m being honest, I just got carried away. It was almost…fun by that point.”

  She wondered if this killer was going through a similar evolution.

  They headed back downstairs to the sounds of an anguished husband. She’d heard similar cries at murder scenes before but it was something she had never gotten used to. Even when she and DeMarco circled the property for any signs of breaking and entering, the husband’s wails followed her, sending little chills into her heart.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Some of Budd’s men managed to talk the husband down from his heartbroken state. At some point, his mother had showed up to console him. Kate assumed the mother had done more good than the policemen. Kate and DeMarco were back in the bedroom, looking around for any signs that the killer might have been looking for something in particular, when Budd came for them.

  “He’s still obviously in a wrecked state, but he wants to speak with you. He understands that the sooner he does, the better chance we have of finding the killer. He’s currently across the street with his neighbors. His mother had to drag him out of this house kicking and screaming.”

  On the way back downstairs, Budd filled them in on what he had picked up on while around the husband. His name was Daryl Woodward. He worked as an insurance salesman in town. His office was less than twenty minutes away from home but it sometimes took him as much as forty-five minutes to get home from work if he got caught in traffic at the wrong time. When his mother had gotten there, she’d taken him out of the house, not wanting him to grieve knowing that his dead wife was in the bathroom over his head.

  Kate and DeMarco walked across the street to the neighbor’s house. A few cops were on the porch, speaking with the neighbors. They acknowledged the agents as they passed but said nothing. The entire porch and house beyond was veiled in an overwhelming silence.

  When they entered the living room, they found Daryl Woodward and his mother sitting on the couch. They were huddled together in a sad embrace. Kate hated to break their silence but she took a moment to introduced DeMarco and herself. She noted how Daryl Woodward nodded and followed her with his eyes like he was in some sort of dreaming state. The mother, who introduced herself as Miranda Thomas, held her son close as if he were a fragile kid who had scraped his knee on the playground. There was nothing creepy or overprotective about it as far as Kate was concerned. She was simply a mother, heartbroken for her suddenly distraught son.

  “Mr. Woodward, I can’t imagine how you must be feeling right now,” Kate said. “So I’m going to only ask basic questions to make this as quick as possible.”

  He nodded his understanding, His bottom lip was trembling and his eyes were both wide and tired-looking at the same time. It was a rather creepy-looking expression.

  “Do you know what Taylor had been doing before you arrived home?” Kate asked.

  “Yeah. She had just gotten back from the gym. Her gym bag was at the foot of the bed. I don’t think she’d even cleaned it out yet.”

  “How often does she go to the gy
m?”

  “Three or four times a week. She prefers to go later in the afternoon because the crowd isn’t as bad.”

  “How was she holding up as of late with the deaths of her two friends, Julie Hicks and Lacy Thurmond?”

  “It hurt her. She cried hardest for Julie. They were pretty close, I think.”

  “Mr. Woodward, I know it’s a hard question, but can you think of anyone who might have wanted to do this to Taylor?”

  He shook his head and started wailing instantly. It was a deep groaning that came out of him in something akin to a grunt. Kate watched him valiantly try to fight it off so he could answer their questions. It was the first time in a while that Kate felt like a terrible person. She was interrupting his grieving, stopping him from properly mourning his wife. But, as Budd had said, certainly Daryl knew that the sooner he spoke, the better the chance of finding the killer.

  “Mr. Woodward, I have to ask you some very hard questions now. Questions you’re going to hate me for asking. And you may not want your mother here.”

  “It’s okay,” Daryl said. “I’m expecting them. After what happened with Julie and Lacy…I know what you’re going to ask. And no. I can guarantee you that she was not having an affair.”

  “But you acknowledge that her friends were?” DeMarco asked.

  “Julie was. She told Taylor all about it. But if Lacy was having an affair, it was being kept very quiet. Pretty sure her husband was messing around behind Lacy’s back though.”

  Miranda Thomas seemed appalled at all of this information but said nothing.

  “What about social situations?” Kate asked. “Was there anything you know of that Julie, Lacy, and Taylor were all involved in?”

  “No. I mean, nothing like clubs or anything like that. We all have memberships at the same pool, but that’s about it. It was just the women, mind you. There were never dates with all of us as couples. Hell, I’ve never even met Julie’s husband.”