by Ronica Black
Liz raised an eyebrow.
“Watch your back. I don’t like this. I don’t like this one bit.”
Liz pushed the door closed and stood staring as Cynthia drove away. As she headed back to her Range Rover, she thought of the two people that meant the most to her in this world. Erin and Jay.
How long could she protect them?
*
Erin was pacing the length of the hallway when she heard the keys in the front door. Liz eased in, looking pale and exhausted.
“Oh, thank God.” Erin threw herself into Liz’s strong arms. “Why didn’t you call? I’ve been worried sick.”
Liz kissed her quickly on the lips, then slipped out of their embrace. “I’m sorry, I had a lot on my mind.”
She walked into the living room and dropped her keys on an end table, then sank down into one of the feather-cushioned couches.
“So what happened? What’s going on?” Erin had been on the phone first with Cynthia and then with Patricia. Neither had answered her questions. Patricia had even scoffed at her request for information on the murder. Erin had hung up the phone so frustrated she’d wanted to cry.
Liz shook her head as she stared off into space. “Nothing.”
“What do you mean nothing?” Erin was unable to sit down. Her blood was pumping, her mind reeling, just like it did when she was on the force. She had to know everything. Now.
“They asked about Jay. They asked if I knew anything about the murder. I told them I knew nothing.”
Erin stopped and stared. “This new murder…I’m scared, Liz.”
Liz met her eyes. “I know.”
“Who would do this?”
“I don’t know.”
“They think it’s Jay.” Erin shifted her gaze to the backyard. “The crime scene looked way too similar.”
Liz stood. “There’s one big difference. Joe was strangled, not shot.”
Erin swallowed hard, knowing all too well what the difference meant. To shoot someone meant you could keep a relative distance. Strangling someone, on the other hand, meant personal contact. Intense anger and control, looking into someone’s eyes as you squeezed the life out of them.
“Manual or ligature?” she asked.
“What?”
“Was it manual strangulation, as in they used their hands, or did they use something else, like a rope or cord?”
“They didn’t say.”
“Of course not. They aren’t about to give away information. Something only the killer would know.” Erin began pacing again. “What did the photos look like? Was there a purple line across the neck, a ligature mark, or did the bruises cover the neck more broadly?”
Liz frowned. “I don’t know.”
Erin made a frustrated noise. “You didn’t see or you couldn’t tell?”
“I didn’t pay attention. I was too busy answering all their fucking questions, which sounded a lot like the ones you’re asking now.”
Erin halted. “I know, I’m sorry. I just…I hate not knowing.” She used to be a part of it all. Being on the outside of an investigation was difficult. “Is Jay their only lead?” she asked a little more softly.
“Next to me, I would say so.”
Erin approached, reaching out to touch Liz’s face. “Are you okay?”
How much more could Liz take? How much more could their lives take? They had only just recovered from the previous investigation, and finally, with the suspicions gone, they’d started a new life together. They were happy, content, in love. Erin had moved beyond her past and she’d hoped Liz had as well. Their relationship couldn’t take another blow to its still-fragile foundations.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing else? I keep thinking there’s something you’re not telling me.”
Liz’s blue eyes clouded. “What do you mean?”
Erin had tried to reassure her that it was safe for Jay to come back now that they knew Reece was the killer. Jay would be questioned, of course, but with Reece’s confession and Jay’s mental instability, Erin felt that Carmichael could protect her. At the very least Jay would get some help and she and Liz could rebuild their relationship without Jay having to run all the time. If only she could get Liz to see this.
“About Jay. I know you prefer to keep things to yourself, but you can trust me. Just talk to me.”
“That’s what you think? That I keep things from you because of trust?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t need this right now, Erin.”
“I’m not trying to upset you.”
“Just…” Liz held up her hand. “Drop it. Please.” But it wasn’t a request. It was a demand.
Erin searched her eyes and saw the wounds and worry. Then she realized that next to sexual intimacy and their busy schedules with the club and studio, they didn’t have a lot of personal time for discussions. Maybe it was time for that to change.
“Talk to me, Liz,” she whispered.
Liz kissed her hand but her eyes remained guarded. “I’m going to go take a shower.”
Erin nodded in silent defeat. Liz probably needed some time alone to deal with all that had happened. They were different that way. Liz kept things inside while Erin preferred to talk them out.
Liz started to walk away and then turned. “Then I’m going to work from here. I don’t feel like going in to the studio or club today.”
Erin nodded, keeping a brave face.
Once Liz had left the room, she sank onto the couch. “My God.” She let her head fall into her hands. “It’s starting again.”
Chapter Six
Patricia Henderson studied the latest crime scene photos, the ones of Joseph Gillette. Her heart raced even though her body felt fatigued. She hadn’t been able to sleep much the past few nights, going over and over their questioning of Elizabeth Adams. No matter how smooth Liz thought her lies were, Patricia knew she was very much aware of her sister’s whereabouts.
But what did that mean anyway? Was Jay really their killer? Patricia didn’t think so but Jay Adams, next to Liz, was their only link to the previous murders. Gillette’s killing resembled those murders, a fact no detective could ignore. So where the hell was Jay? Why didn’t Liz give her up so they could clear her? Something wasn’t right, and once again the Adams name was at the center of their inquiries.
“Here.” Gary Jacobs breezed into the squad room. He plucked out two small white containers from the bag of Chinese food he was carrying. Patricia could smell the Kung Pao chicken she’d ordered as she opened first the container of white rice and then the greasy box that held the chicken.
Gary sat down across from her and licked his fingers before he tucked a napkin into his starched collar. After smoothing it over his shirt to perfection, he peeled open his chopsticks to dig into his Mongolian beef.
Patricia forked the hot food into her mouth and chewed, noting that it wasn’t near spicy enough. She eyed the unfamiliar emblem on the bag. “This isn’t Dragon Inn.”
Gary kept chewing, responding with his mouth full. “They closed down.”
Patricia stabbed her fork into the chicken. “They closed?”
He shrugged. “Yep.”
“Since when?” They’d been eating there for years. It was the best Chinese in town. Did every good thing have to change? Patricia pushed the containers away, in no mood for mediocre Kung Pao.
“What’s wrong?” Gary asked. “You wanted the sesame?”
“No.” She sighed.
Again her eyes fastened to the crime scene photos of Joseph Gillette before shifting to the numerous other photos pinned to the wall. She’d just hung them an hour before, needing to visually group the victims in the different sets of murders. She blinked away fatigue, trying to focus. The first group of victims belonged to the Seductress Murders, as the press had dubbed them, due to the killer’s MO. The victims were first seduced by a female with the promise of sex, then drugged and tied to a bed. The victims were all mal
e, all married, prominent businessmen. Each was drugged, shot in the head, and mutilated in the genital region postmortem. Although Elizabeth Adams had been the main suspect a year earlier when these murders occurred, Kristen Reece and a young sidekick named Tracy Walsh had been found responsible.
End of story? According to the department, yes. So they’d let it go and the case was officially closed. But Jay Adams had not been ruled out over a possible role in the murders and she was still sought for questioning. So far, they’d had no luck in finding her. Elizabeth Adams made sure of that.
Patricia focused in on the next set of photos. The Highway Murders. She’d been working the case for a couple of months, but they now knew that the murders had been ongoing for at least two years, according to the initial report on the oldest remains. The police hadn’t even been aware of the first few killings until they stumbled on additional decomposing remains when a recent victim’s body was found. This meant that the Highway Murders had actually started before the Seductress Murders. Were the two cases related? How likely was it that two different serial killers were at work in one small area over the same period?
Kristin Reece had been dead for a year and had admitted her guilt, so none of the latest victims could be hers. Yet there were odd similarities in all the cases. They needed a break in the Highway case, someone who had seen suspicious activity or who knew a victim and could provide a clue to a possible suspect. A volunteer grid search was currently in the works, departments in both counties stubbornly coming together to find answers. In her gut, Patricia felt sure more bodies were out there. She wondered how many they would ultimately find.
She studied each victim photo and went over what she knew. They’d been able to identify three men thanks to wallets recovered with the remains. The victims were middle aged, middle class, and married. Their bodies had been dumped along the same highway leading out of Valle Luna. Two had been found before decay set in, strangled and with their wedding rings missing. Sex had played a role, though the investigators weren’t yet sure just how much. One victim still wore a condom, and the other had traces of a lubricant on his genitals. Their wives had not known about any infidelities. In fact, all three of the victims who’d been identified were known to be cordial if not passive husbands. There was no apparent motive and no viable suspects. They’d been lucky to find those two bodies before decay set in.
Lucky?
Patricia considered the proximity of the bodies to the highway. They were closer to the road than the older bodies. Maybe the killer had wanted them to be found. She peeled the wrapper from her straw and sipped her large diet soda. She wished the forensic reports would come back on the one body they had yet to identify. She could only hope there would be a clue harbored in those remains.
Her gaze traveled back to the wall of death.
To Joseph Gillette. Her mind rattled off the facts. Twenty-four years old. Gay. A professional model/actor, looking for the limelight. No serious relationships, low on money, with a strong dislike for his new boss, Elizabeth Adams. According to the lab report he had ecstasy in his system. Not enough to harm him, but plenty enough to sweeten his surroundings. The Seductress Murder victims had been drugged first with GHB. Also like the Seductress victims, Joe was killed and dumped in the desert, his genitalia mutilated postmortem. His body had been posed the same way, lying on his back, his pants down around his ankles. Only rather than being shot, he’d been strangled.
Patricia’s mind reeled as she absorbed it all.
“What are you thinking?” Gary asked, sucking on his drink.
“They were all men and all strangled. Gillette and the two Highway victims. Although Gillette’s bruising seemed more severe. It’s possible that the cases are related, although the victim profiles are different.”
“Do you think Elizabeth Adams could be involved in all of them?”
“No, no.” She shook her head. “I don’t think she’s involved at all.”
“I don’t either. But her sister…”
Patricia held his eyes. “Jay, possibly, yes. But not Liz.”
There was no reason—Liz had a busy, happy life now. As much as Patricia still disliked her, she couldn’t find a link with Liz in regard to the Highway Murders, and why would she kill Gillette? He was her newest actor, hired on for her newest investment.
“So how’s Jay linked to the Highway Murders?” Gary asked. “I can understand the link with Gillette and the Seductress Murders, but not all three.”
“I don’t know. It’s just a thought. They all seem weirdly similar.” She lifted the Gillette photo she had on her desk, seeking something she wasn’t seeing. “I don’t know. Maybe they’re just all running together in my head. Maybe Jay’s not involved at all. Maybe it’s someone else, someone who’s fucking with all of us.” She paused, then gave voice to the obvious. “There are just too many dead men in this town.”
Gary tossed her a fortune cookie. He sat back to open his. “The MOs are somewhat different. Dump sites different. And I see what you mean about the profiles. Gillette is younger than the Highway victims. Unmarried, openly gay, struggling financially.”
Patricia opened her cookie and extracted the tiny strip of paper, which read, “Love will find you soon.” She scowled and threw it in the food bag. “But Gillette is similar to the Seductress victims.”
“In some ways, yes. In some ways, no.” Her partner crunched on his fortune cookie. “It’s probably a hastened copycat. Someone kills Gillette, panics, then remembers what he read in the newspaper. He pulls down the guy’s pants and stabs him. Or maybe the killer just had a lot of rage toward Gillette. Sexual rage.”
“You don’t see any correlation with the other murders?” She trusted Gary and valued his opinion. They kept each other focused and she needed him to reel her back in if she was venturing off path.
“All of them?” He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Not likely. We simply need to find Jay Adams if we can and question her. Only because she’s our best lead right now. If she’s cleared, then we move on and drop the link to the Seductress Murders or cough it up as a poor attempt at a copycat.”
“You’re probably right. What do I know, anyhow?”
He laughed softly. “Way more than most.”
She scoffed. “I’m beginning to doubt that, my friend. I’m beginning to doubt that.”
She stared at the wall of death and thought over the cases, her life, and her loneliness. She thought of Mac and how happy she seemed living with a woman once suspected of murder.
Perhaps her own judgment was clouded by her feelings. Patricia still cared about Mac, and for that reason, if she were completely honest, she didn’t want Liz to be guilty of anything. Yet at the same time it was impossible to trust the woman. Liz was hiding something, she was sure of it. Jay? Probably. But she wasn’t positive.
Maybe that was her problem. Maybe she really didn’t know as much as she once thought. Maybe she knew nothing at all.
*
“There’s something you don’t know,” the well-muscled woman whispered. She wore a white tank, baggy jeans, and a newsboy cap. “Something I got to tell you.”
She leaned into the dark-skinned woman in the blue church dress and hat. They stood against a worn barn door with an old tractor behind them, a hot Southern sun glistening their skin.
“I can’t know…” The dark-skinned woman turned her face away, as if shying from dangerous knowledge.
The strong woman reached out and gently guided the other woman’s chin so that their eyes met. “Coral, you must know. I—”
“No, please, Miss Hazel.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “You can’t.”
“But I do.” Hazel tore off her newsboy cap and a long braid tumbled down past her shoulders. She dropped the cap and held Coral’s face with both hands. “I love you.”
“No,” Coral whispered. “The town, what they would do to you if—”
“Shh.” Hazel pressed her lips to Coral’s, stifling her words. Cora
l gave a soft whimper of protest and halfheartedly tried to push her away. The kisses were short and full of ragged breath. Coral’s hands fell in defeat and her posture softened as if she would melt right then and there. Hazel leaned into her, holding her, pressing her against the barn. Their mouths nearly touched, their bodies trembled.
Hazel stared into her eyes. “You feel it too, don’t you?”
Coral touched her own lips as more tears slipped down her face. “Yes.”
“Don’t you see that I don’t care what this town thinks?”
“It’s not safe, Miss—”
“I won’t let anyone hurt you. I swear it on my daddy’s grave.” She took Coral’s hands. “You can move in here with me, I’ll tell everyone I’ve hired you as my house maid. No one will argue with that. Lord knows I need one.” She smiled.
“I can’t.”
“Tell me you don’t love me.”
Coral said nothing.
“Tell me you don’t feel the same, and I’ll leave you be.”
More silence. Then Coral said, “I can’t do that, Miss Hazel. I can’t tell you I don’t love you. Because that would be a lie. A bald-faced lie. And I don’t lie.”
Hazel pressed into her again with a kiss that quickly deepened and then exploded into a frenzy of desire. She tore her mouth away and kissed Coral’s neck. “I love you, Coral,” she whispered. “Oh, God help me, how I love you.” She bunched up Coral’s dress as the kisses continued.
“Miss Hazel, what you are doing to me.” Coral sighed.
Hazel thrust forward, her arm swallowed up inside the dress. Coral cried out in pleasure and bit her lip to stifle her moans. She buried her face in Hazel’s shoulder as the strong woman rocked into her. Tears continued to run down her face as her fears turned to pleasure.
She closed her eyes and held tight to Hazel.
“Oh, what you are doing to me,” she said one last time before she shuddered in orgasm.
“And…cut!”
Erin jerked at the director’s sharp interjection. The two actors stilled and drew apart, both smiling but clearly exhausted. Erin wiped away a tear.
