Trix

by Kate Morris

  “How late was he for work that night?”

  “’Bout an hour, but he had sick-time built up, so it didn’t count against him.”

  Lorena mused at what an exemplary employee he must’ve been. “Did he tell you what he did when you left and he stayed at the bar?”

  “Said he talked to Steph some more and then left to come to work. Between me and you, I think he would definitely leave his wife for her. She’s really pretty, and she’s nice. Kyle’s wife, she’s…”

  He grimaced. Lorena had news for him. Men that loved someone didn’t let them take money for payment rendered in giving their co-worker a blowjob. Kyle was a disgusting excuse for a man.

  “He didn’t mention going anywhere else? He just left the bar and came to work that night?”

  “Yeah, that’s what he told me. He hung out, watched her dance again, talked to her at the bar, and came to work.”

  There was another, new gap in the timeframe. He said he went to work at ten. Now, they’ve found out that he showed up an hour later than his scheduled start time at eleven. It gave him enough time to hang out at the club, lure her away again and kidnap her. He had time to travel somewhere with her and stash her until he could go back after his shift ended in the morning. It wasn’t enough time to drive to his house up north, but it was enough time to tie her up, drug her, and hide her until he was ready. He was now their number one suspect, at least in Stephanie Pearson’s murder.

  Jack asked a few more questions, questions about Hailee that the man couldn’t answer, and they left his house with their first good suspect in the case.

  “Craig texted,” Lorena told Jack in the car and coughed. “The art dealer’s flight got bumped up. Or the FBI bumped him up. He’ll be back in Portland by two a.m.”

  “The perks of being wanted for questioning by the feds,” he joked.

  Lorena chuckled and then coughed again. “I want to be there for the questioning. Let’s head back to the headquarters so I can look at my notes in comparison with their notes. I also want to run some information through their databases.”

  “First, home,” he said decidedly.

  “Did you want to change or something?”

  Jack pulled into a big chain grocery store and said, “Wait here.”

  Lorena frowned and reviewed her notes. Archibald was definitely lying, hadn’t told them about the reason for the missing time in his story, and she got the impression he knew about Stephanie’s disappearance and didn’t want to implicate himself in the matter. It was too late. He was already involved, but she wasn’t sure how he knew Hailee.

  She was interested in talking with the art dealer, as well. An hour was plenty of time for Archibald to lure Stephanie back out of the club and kidnap her, but the art dealer who’d harassed Hailee at her step-mother’s charity event that night was still on the short list.

  Jack startled her when he opened the door again. He placed two bags of items on the back seat and then got in the driver’s seat again.

  “Snacks?”

  He offered a lopsided grin and said, “Something like that.”

  They discussed the case as he drove, but Lorena was surprised when he pulled into the parking spot at his houseboat’s location.

  “I’ll wait here,” she said.

  “You’re coming, actually,” he told her and got out.

  Lorena scowled but got out of the vehicle, hopping to the ground. She pulled her bag out and slung it over one shoulder. Jack left, expecting her to follow. The rain that had let up for most of the day started again, releasing fat drops of cold water onto her head. Her hair had just finally dried out from earlier. Miserable, damn city.

  He let them in and locked the door behind them. “Go grab a hot shower.”

  “I’m fine. I just want to get back to the headquarters and work,” she told him, standing in the threshold shivering and dripping.

  “Not happening, chief,” he said. “Shower. Food. Rest. In that order.”

  “Hey, you’re not my mother, Jack,” she said irritably.

  He turned to her, facing Lorena directly and pausing in removing items from the grocery bags, “No, I’m not. I’m your partner, which is more important for the task at hand. You need to get better. You’re no good to me like this.”

  Lorena puckered, frowned, and stared him down.

  Jack pointed to the hallway, “Shower.”

  “Fine!” she retorted angrily and dropped her pack and jacket on the floor. “Then we’re going back.”

  It angered her even more as she walked down the hall and heard him laughing. She took a towel out of the linen closet, went to the bathroom and stripped. Her body was physically and mentally drained. The spray of hot water felt like a warm balm coating her body with comfort. Her chest felt heavy, her sinuses stuffy, and she had one hell of a headache. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was definitely sick. And she didn’t have time to be.

  After a long, hot shower, towel drying her hair and dressing in a long-sleeve tee, yoga pants, and thick socks, Lorena was lured to the outer rooms by the smells coming from the kitchen. The sun had set during her long shower, and the house was dimly lit and cozy and classical music played softly through surround sound speakers. She wandered into the kitchen and took a seat at a stool at the peninsula. Jack turned and smiled.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  Lorena nodded. She felt like crap, but the food he was cooking smelled heavenly. It made her wish she knew how to cook better than she did.

  He brought two bowls to the counter and took the other stool beside her.

  “You made this? Like just now?” she asked with unconcealed doubt.

  He chuckled, “It’s just chicken noodle soup.”

  “Yes, but it didn’t come from a can.”

  This time he laughed loudly, “No, it didn’t come from a can, Evans. This is actually good for you and not filled with salt and preservatives and additives.”

  “I’ll probably die,” she quipped and looked at him. He was grinning.

  “Eat. Step two. Then you rest.”

  “You’re being annoyingly managerial.”

  “Only you would say managerial when you’re knocking at death’s door.”

  “I’m not that sick.”

  “Uh-huh, you’re the picture of health, Evans,” he said. “Oh, yeah, I got you some medicine, too, and Kleenexes. It’s just over-the-counter meds, but they’ll help with the symptoms. I also got some vitamin packets and orange juice.”

  “Wow, you’re quite the nurse,” she admitted as she sipped the broth of her hot soup. Carrots and celery dotted the broth, along with noodles and chunks of chicken. It tasted even better than it smelled. It also soothed her sore throat. “How do you know so much about taking care of sick people?”

  “I always took care of my sisters with my mom when they needed it. Plus, if Mom got sick, I took care of all of them.”

  “Where was your dad?”

  “Work. Always at work. He relied on me to take care of the girls while he was at work. He was the sole breadwinner, so he had to work a lot. It was a hard job, too.”

  “What was he like?”

  “He was a good man, old school.”

  Lorena ate some more soup, then asked, “Old-fashioned?”

  “Yeah, that and more. He just had a really strong sense of morality, what was right and acceptable, what wasn’t. He believed in opening doors for women, protecting little kids, never taking something from someone that you could provide for yourself. Tough man, hard worker, good father, and from what I witnessed, a really great husband. He always made time for my mom. He always held hands with her. I remember that. He had big hands, huge, rough, but tender with Mom.”

  Lorena smiled, his story touching her. She did not have the same kind of father, mother, siblings or childhood.

  “You’re lucky. He sounds wonderful.”

  “He was pretty great. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he had a temper sometimes, but he tried to keep it
in check. With five kids running around the house and him working a swing-shift at the mill, it got a little testy around there sometimes.”

  He opened a box of Tylenol cold medicine and placed it beside her glass of orange juice.

  “Take your dope,” he joked. “It’ll help you sleep. Hopefully. I don’t know. It is you. It would probably take a horse tranquilizer to knock you out. You’ve probably grown an immunity to sleep aids.”

  She snorted. “I’m too miserable to correct you.”

  When she was finished and had taken the medicine, Jack took their dishes to the sink.

  “There’s plenty more soup for you to have tomorrow,” he told her as she approached him at the sink and rolled up her sleeves to help. “No way. You’ve got a get-out-of-wash-duty-free card, Evans. Go lie down.”

  “I’m just going to sit over here and look at our files,” she informed him and left.

  “You’re trying to skip right past step three,” he told her.

  “I’ll do that in a few minutes,” she said weakly and sat on the sofa where their files were spread out on the stand in front of her. Lorena shivered and spotted a gray hoodie on the chair beside her, so she pulled it on. It smelled like Jack, but she didn’t mind. Hopefully, he didn’t, either, because she had no intention of turning it over just yet because she was freezing.

  She picked up a file on the first known victim that was discovered nearly four years ago. Knowing and understanding serial killers as she did, Lorena knew it was not his first kill. It was just the first one they could link to others that proved he was a serial who wouldn’t stop until he was either in prison or dead.

  Yawning, she curled up and laid her head on Jack’s pillow where he’d slept last night. She could smell him on the pillowcase and found it comforting. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she eventually succumbed to sleep all before he even finished cleaning the kitchen. Cold medicine was a rather delightful invention because she didn’t dream. With no dreams, it also meant no nightmares with celestial visits from her father.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jack

  A few hours ago, he’d pulled a cozy fleece throw over Lorena and touched his hand to her forehead. She was dead asleep, sicker than a dog, and down for the count. He hoped the rest would help, but at least she didn’t seem to have a fever. During their dinner, her cheeks were bright red, so he figured she was fevering then. The meds must’ve brought it down.

  He returned three different text messages from three of his sisters, pretty much all asking the same thing. Then he interceded her phone when it vibrated. It was Gracie, and he let her know that Lorena was asleep and had a cold and that he was glad she was letting them know she was fine. He was crazy about her. His sisters were another case. They drove him nuts. Then he’d fallen asleep in the chair beside her. He was used to sleeping in strange places, which was a military habit. Plus, her quiet, even breathing, the low, ambient lighting, and the classical music still playing knocked him out.

  When he awoke, he was a little confused. He’d not planned to fall asleep but was glad for the rest anyway. He stretched, rolled his neck to loosen the kinks of sleeping in an odd position in a chair, and dragged himself to the kitchen. After wiping down counters and putting away the dry dishes from earlier and throwing a load of laundry in, Jack carried her to her room again. It seemed like the right thing to do, and it wasn’t as if he was going to throw out his back doing it. She didn’t weigh much, and she was still dead asleep. He wondered if she’d taken too much cold medicine. Knowing Lorena, she probably hadn’t read the label but had just downed some pills. Sleeping on the lumpy sofa in the living room was only going to give her a sore neck in the morning. When he had her tucked in, he finally got back to work. Hopefully, she’d actually sleep through the night undisturbed. Last night, he’d awakened to her cries. When he’d checked on her, Lorena was safe and unharmed but trapped in a nightmare and whimpering and thrashing in her bed. His heart had eased, and his stomach relaxed slightly when he realized she was alone because he’d thought she was being attacked by someone. This case had him a little jumpy. They’d been working some pretty hard cases in Cleveland, but this nut-job had him off balance. He slept with his pistol under his pillow on the sofa. Usually, Jack kept it on the nightstand or would’ve placed it on the coffee table if he slept on the sofa, but there was just something about the Tooth Fairy that was taking away his usual sense of calm control. He hadn’t awakened Lorena from her nightmare, and she eventually quieted down a minute later. He was left to assume that the case had her on edge, as well, but with Lorena, it was hard to tell. She was so introverted and odd to begin with, he wasn’t sure what demons chased her in her dreams.

  He laid everything out that they learned today about Archibald on the whiteboard. He was their best suspect so far, and Jack looked over the printout of his criminal history, which wasn’t much. Soliciting prostitutes and one DUI were not what they’d consider serious crimes, but these did show he had a penitent for picking up hookers. As did Trix, whose victims were usually prostitutes and homeless women who would likely not be noticed if they went missing. Perhaps Kyle Archibald was the man who was keeping Hailee somewhere.

  Jack’s phone buzzed, he looked at the time of twelve-thirty and answered it.

  Craig said, “We searched Archibald’s house. It came up clean. A little too clean if you ask me. The place was bleached and squeaky clean. Some areas I could even smell bleach. She’s not there. He said he liked a clean house, but it seemed suspect unless he’s OCD. They’re hitting it with Luminol right now as we speak.”

  “Maybe they should hit his face with it. I saw scratches on his arm, too,” Jack said.

  “Yeah, I did, too. He said he had an altercation with a stray tomcat that’s been poking around in his trash. Just before we got there, he said he shot it with a .22 and buried it out back. I’m having it exhumed to see if that’s all he buried or if it’s something else. If we don’t find a cat, he’s screwed. We swabbed the blood on his cheek. I’ll have those results soon, as well and will be able to tell you if it’s human blood.”

  “Good, he seems a little fishy. That place sure was private. Perfect for taking kidnapped women and killing them. Not many neighbors around to see or hear anything.”

  “My team’s talking to his neighbors, been talking to them since you guys left. Ya’ never know. They might run into a little old lady who likes to look out the blinds a lot.”

  “That’s solved more than a few of the tougher cases,” Jack admitted. It was true. Nosy neighbors made for great witnesses.

  “Sad but true,” Craig agreed. “What’d Evans think of him?”

  “She’s out like a light. Sick, too. I’m trying to let her sleep, but I’ll talk to her as soon as she gets up.”

  “No, no,” Craig said quickly. “Let her sleep. We can talk to her in the morning. If she’s that sick, make her rest. She can always consult from there.”

  “This is Evans we’re talking about here,” Jack joked. “I hardly think she’s gonna let a cold hold her down.”

  “True enough,” Craig said with a chuckle. “The art dealer’s flight was delayed. He’ll be here around five a.m. Man, we can’t catch a break with this guy. Guess a bad storm hit London tonight, so it delayed all the flights.”

  “Let us know when you have him in custody. I’d like to hear the interview at least.”

  “Are you kidding? I’d like Evans and you to do the interview.”

  “I might have to give her a RedBull and dress her myself, but we’ll be there.”

  Silence.

  “Are you still there?” Jack asked.

  “Huh? Yeah, yeah. Hey, I gotta go. Uh…see ya’ in the morning.”

  Craig disconnected, and Jack stood there wondering what he’d said that had upset him. Was it because he’d mentioned dressing Lorena? He’d only been kidding. Of course, the notion did have a certain appeal. Craig, however, apparently didn’t find the humor.

  He worked for a
few more minutes before crashing on the sofa. His dreams were burdened with images of Lorena being taken by the Tooth Fairy before he could stop it from happening. A noise caused him to snap awake. It came again, and he realized someone was knocking on his door. He wished he would’ve brought his dog. His eyes jumped to the clock on the wall; it was almost six. Jack sprang to his feet and snatched his pistol to answer it. Nobody even knew where they were except for his friend and Craig and the agent he had help move their things. When he answered it, Elizabeth was standing there. Jack sighed and allowed her entry.

  “I figured you’d be here,” she said.

  “Slumming it, Elizabeth?” he asked and went to the kitchen to brew a mug of hot tea.

  “Funny,” she remarked and walked around, looking at the place and touching things here and there. “You always did want to get one of these houseboats.”

  “And you always wanted a big mansion,” he said dryly. “Looks like it all worked out in the end.”

  She shot him an irritated look over her shoulder. Jack was immune. She’d given him that same, smug, pissed off expression virtually their entire marriage. It didn’t detract from her beauty, though. There was no denying it, Elizabeth was just as beautiful as she was the day he married her. She wore navy blue slacks and a matching satin blouse that accented her light blonde hair perfectly. Her slim wrists were adorned with a gold Rolex on one and a thick gold bracelet on the other. Diamonds that were as big as M & M’s decorated her earlobes. The black heels she wore must have been four inches high with red soles. He knew the red soles meant they were some expensive name brand, but Jack didn’t know the name, nor did he care.

  “To what do I owe this pre-dawn honor?” he asked with sarcasm and removed the mug from the microwave and added honey. Then his manners took over. “Drink?”

  “Vodka tonic,” she said and laid her cashmere trench coat on the back of a dining room chair.

  “How ‘bout a hot tea?” he suggested and handed her his own mug since he hadn’t drunk from it yet. Then he set about brewing another for himself.