Rush

by Carsen Taite

  “Valid concerns. However, I think it might be best to wait until the issue comes up. The likelihood that she will be exposed to the news is minimal, and even then she might not make the connection.”

  Ellen caught the unspoken implications. If her mother didn’t remember Marty between visits, hearing about her death on the news might not strike a chord. Bringing the subject up was borrowing trouble. It wasn’t necessary to put her mother through the drama. Relief washed her guilt away. “Okay. That sounds like a good plan.” She stood. “Mother keeps talking about moving out, getting her own place. Normal or not normal?”

  “Well, that’s all relative, but for the most part, everyone here has gone through a phase like that. She’s perfectly healthy, and on good days, those kind of thoughts are perfectly natural.”

  “It’s hard to know what’s natural anymore.”

  “I understand. You know if you ever need someone to talk to, we have several great counselors on staff. They are always available to talk to you.”

  She shuddered inwardly. Sharing was not a family value. Not in her family anyway. “I’m fine.” To soften her abrupt response, she added, “I do appreciate everything you do for Mother. I’m sure she appreciates it too.” That last was a lie, but like her mother had always said, a little lie can save a lot of hurt. “I only have a few minutes before I have to get back to work. I should go say good-bye. Thanks again for your time.”

  Ellen felt Patterson’s gaze on her back as she walked away to get the promised sandwiches. She’d have to take hers to go. Her impromptu visit had already eaten a chunk out of her day. Time to get back to the office. She purchased two California clubs from the small deli/shop and headed back to the veranda. Her mother was no longer seated in the chair where she’d left her. She spotted her at the far end of the balcony, leaning over the rail, pointing in the distance. Ellen set the food on a nearby table and stepped cautiously toward her mother, anxiety growing with every step. When she was close, she called softly, “Mother?”

  Vivian didn’t turn, didn’t move, her gaze transfixed on the lush lawn below her. Ellen walked closer and opened her mouth to call out again, when Vivian spun toward her.

  “Did you see it?”

  “What? Did I see what?”

  Vivian grabbed her arm and gripped tight. “I need to get down there and check it out. Go wake my husband. Tell him we’ve found the perfect spot. He’ll want to sleep longer, but tell him it’s critical. He needs to come now.”

  “Mother, let’s go sit down. I got your favorite sandwich.”

  “We don’t have time to eat. Someone else may find it first.” She shook Ellen’s arm and pulled her toward the railing. “See for yourself.”

  Ellen stepped closer to the railing. Green grounds. Colorful flowerbeds. Active fountains. Whatever had Vivian so agitated wasn’t in plain view. But it never was. Not anymore.

  She tried once more. “Mother, please. Let’s go sit down.”

  Vivian’s eyes were glassy, but it didn’t dim the animation in her voice. “My name is Vivian. Why are you calling me mother? I don’t have any children. Please go get Bill and tell him to get down here now.”

  Ellen nodded and walked away. If only it were so easy, she’d get Bill in a heartbeat. But her father was halfway across the country and neither he nor her mother was ever coming back.

  Chapter Three

  Danny looked up from her desk and waved George into her cramped office. “Hey, it’s been a week. Any chance you found any decent evidence in the stuff you got from Lawson’s place?”

  “Nice to see you too, Danny.” He placed a Starbucks cup on her desk. “Oh, and thanks for the coffee.”

  She reached for the cup and pulled off the lid. “Americano? Quad shot?”

  “Just the way you like it.”

  “Leave your wife and marry me.”

  “She’d probably be okay with that. At least she would this week since I’ve been working round the clock. Too bad I’m not your type.”

  Danny downed a third of the cup. “I might be able to overlook your manly ways if you brought me coffee every day.”

  “Wouldn’t last. Eventually, coffee wouldn’t be enough and you’d step out on me with some hot broad who made you forget your addiction to caffeine.”

  “Never. Okay, well, maybe.” It had finally been long enough that she could find humor in jokes like that. George, on the other hand, looked contrite about his careless remark. She smiled to signal she was okay, and then changed the subject before he felt the need to offer an awkward apology. She held up her cup. “Tell you what, while I inject this dose of caffeine, why don’t you give me an update on the Lawson case?”

  George pulled a small notebook out of his jacket and thumbed through the pages. “Martha ‘Marty’ Lawson, age fifty-nine, retired from her career as an analyst at Raytheon last year.”

  “Any connection to Sally Jones or Joan Gibson?” She referred to the first two victims.

  “Other than the fact they’re all around the same age? No. Not yet.” He consulted his notebook again. “Marty does, make that did, a lot of volunteer work, charities and such. Spent a lot of time working with her college sorority, Alpha Nu.”

  “She seems a little old to be hanging out with sorority girls.”

  “I guess it’s an alumni thing.”

  “Alumna.”

  “Huh?”

  “Female alumni are alumna. Plural, alumnae.” Danny saw George’s eyes start to glaze over. He didn’t give a damn what female graduates were called. “Sorry, never mind. Not important. So, what else can you tell me?”

  “She was supposed to be at a meeting at Richards University the day she was killed. They were hosting a meeting of alum…whatever. She’s on the national board for the sorority.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “Like I know anything about sororities? Anyway, she seemed to spend a lot of time on this stuff. Might be worth checking into.”

  “Sure, okay. Sounds like a good idea although I doubt our killer is a psycho sorority chick.” Danny didn’t get why anyone would spend time on a college campus with a bunch of party girls, let alone extend the party into her adulthood. She’d scratched and crawled her way into academic scholarships for college and then law school, and she hadn’t had a second to spare on frivolous crap like sorority rush, initiations, and heavy social calendars. Those activities were for students with money and connections, two things she’d never had and done fine without.

  “I assume you want to go with?”

  “I should. Alvarez has a bad feeling about these cases and wants me involved at every step.” After the first murder carried signature signs of a serial killer, staging and mutilation of the body, DA Frank Alvarez had assigned her to be a liaison between the DA’s office and the homicide unit. Although it was unusual, she didn’t mind. Early involvement meant she’d have firsthand knowledge when it came to getting an arrest warrant from a judge for the sick fuck who’d committed these crimes, and it put her first in line to try these cases whenever they actually made an arrest. Like Alvarez, she believed that the killer who’d inflicted such a horrible death on these three women wasn’t done yet, and she wanted to be part of stopping him. “I have a hearing this morning. Do you have some time this afternoon?”

  “Sure. I already got the name of the executive director for this sorority Lawson was part of. Ellen Davenport. I’ll call her and make an appointment. Pick you up at two?”

  “Perfect. See you then.” Danny finished her coffee and reviewed the file in front of her. Most of her docket had been shuffled off to other prosecutors, but she’d hung on to a few cases she’d already worked on for a while. This case involved a felony DWI. Wasn’t much to it. Defense counsel was challenging the stop. The officer who’d made the stop was a seasoned veteran who’d be able to articulate a valid reason for pulling the guy over. All she had to do was walk him through the questions and wait for the judge to rule her way.

  A couple
of hours later, she walked out of the courtroom, another win under her belt. The defense attorney shook her hand and said he’d talk to his client about the deal she’d just offered. She had no doubt he’d take it, since she’d just eviscerated his only defense. As he walked off, the number two in her court, Molly Howard, asked, “You ever feel bad about beating them all the time?”

  “Not a lick. You?”

  “Nope, but I don’t have as many wins as you do.”

  “I’ve been at it a little longer.” She handed the file to Molly. “Here, finish this one and take the stat. And there are a few more files on my desk. I have a feeling things are going to heat up on my other project. Do what you can while I’m out running around with DPD.”

  Molly grinned. “Thanks, boss. What happens when you catch the guy?”

  “Hopefully, I’ll be lead prosecutor at his trial and send him to death row.”

  “And after that? Do you think Mr. Alvarez will promote you?”

  Danny knew there was lots of speculation around the office about her assignment to the task force and what it would mean for the prosecutors left in her court. Would they leave her chief spot open or fill it on the premise she’d probably get a bump up whenever they caught this killer? If they caught this killer. She did her best not to focus on the future since there were too many contingencies. “Who knows? Maybe. You bucking for my spot?”

  Molly grinned. “Who knows? Maybe.”

  “Okay, superstar, let’s go over these cases. You rock them and I’ll put in a good word for you.”

  They spent the next hour reviewing the details of her remaining caseload. At two sharp, George appeared at her door, jingling his keys. “Your chariot awaits.”

  She grabbed her briefcase, packed full of material she needed to review for the following day, and followed him to the car. The ride downtown was short. The Frank Crowley Courts Building was just close enough to downtown to be convenient for private practice lawyers, but far enough away to keep the riffraff who glutted the system from being an eyesore to the Dallas business community. George parked in a vast underground parking structure, and the two of them rode a series of elevators to the twenty-third floor of a high-rise office building.

  George groused during the ride. “I hate coming down here. So damn confusing. You park underground and enter the building from underground. Hard to tell if you’re even in the right place since they all look alike from the inside. Did you know Dallas has a whole series of underground tunnels? So the people that work in these buildings never have to go outside to eat lunch, get their shoes shined, go to the bank. Hundreds of grunts in prison who’d give ten years off their life to see daylight, and these stiffs live in a goddamn cave.”

  “You’re such a philosopher, George.” Danny laughed when he stuck his tongue out at her. “You’re not wrong. It is crazy, but it’s not like I understand anything about the people who choose these regular jobs anyway. Do you?”

  “No, you’re right. Money changing hands. Analysts. Accountants. Bankers. Whatever. None of it really matters.”

  “Lots of lawyers in these buildings.”

  “Not the good kind.” He grinned at her. “Not the kind who keep the system working, keep our streets safe.”

  “I suppose.”

  “You ever wish you’d gone into some other type of law?”

  “Not usually. Must admit it crosses my mind when I pay my monthly student loan payment. Don’t think I’ll ever get that paid off. Some folks in my class got deals that included having their loans paid off as a hiring bonus.”

  “Sweet. You’ll probably be paying on those loans the rest of your life if you keep working for the county.”

  “I call it the happy tax. Instead of pushing paper, I get to put away bad guys. Money well spent.”

  The elevator stopped and they both walked the halls in search of Alpha Nu’s suite number. Danny tried to connect the fancy reception areas they passed with the binge drinking Greeks of her college days. Guess everyone has to grow up sometime. At the third door, George consulted his notes. “This is it.”

  Plush, but not huge. The reception area was crammed with heavy furniture and lots of fragile-looking knick-knacks. She sat down, careful to avoid bumping into any of the breakables, and let George tell the receptionist about their appointment. She pictured Ellen Davenport, sitting in a plush office full of antique furniture, pouring tea from old china and reminiscing about her sorority days. “Marty and I used to party hard back in the day, but lately all we ever did was sit around and tell stories of our misspent youth over afternoon tea. I can’t believe she’s dead. Would you like another scone?”

  A few minutes later a trim, sharply-dressed woman who introduced herself as Jill led them to a corner office. Plush yes, but definitely modern. If Davenport was an old biddy, she was hip at least. Fancy, but with a comfortable feel. At Jill’s urging, Danny and George sat in chairs across from the large desk.

  “Ms. Davenport will be right with you. Can I get either of you something to drink?”

  “We’re good,” Danny answered, but she couldn’t resist looking around for the tea service.

  When Jill left, George leaned over and whispered, “Guess we both picked the wrong line of work. I don’t know jack about art, but I’m thinking these walls are filled with stuff that should be in a museum.”

  “Damn, I’ve been found out.” A tall blonde walked through the doorway and stuck both wrists toward them. “I confess. I looted the museum. Take me in, but please be gentle.”

  Danny laughed while George, red-faced, scrambled to his feet. “Ms. Davenport?” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Detective George Ramirez and this”—he pointed to Danny who stood beside him—“is Assistant District Attorney Danielle Soto.”

  Ellen Davenport shook George’s hand, but her eyes were on Danny. Her gaze was penetrating, and Danny couldn’t look away from the piercing blues.

  “Nice to meet you, Ms. Soto. I’m Ellen Davenport.”

  The words broke the trance and Danny looked down to see Ellen’s outstretched hand. She reached out, touched, and held. “Danny. Call me Danny.”

  Ellen’s eyes twinkled, which didn’t do much for Danny’s ability to focus. “Danny, it is. Shall we sit down?”

  A few beats later, Danny realized she was still holding Ellen’s hand and reluctantly let go. “Sure, absolutely. Thanks for seeing us on such short notice.”

  As she settled into her chair, Danny took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She was thrown, and not just by the revelation that Ellen Davenport, Executive Director of National Alpha Nu, wasn’t a little old lady. No, Ellen was model tall and beautiful. And young. Well, not college young, but young enough.

  “How old are you?”

  What the fuck? The question had tumbled out of her rambling thoughts and into spoken words. Rude, crass, and none of her business.

  “Thirty-five. Am I under investigation?”

  Well, you weren’t until I met you. Now, I want to know everything about you. Danny pushed her inappropriate thoughts away. No way was she ever going to know anything else about this captivating woman now that she’d blown her opening by asking the dumbest question ever. Too bad, since her long dormant libido had come to full attention. She didn’t need to look over at George to know he was staring at her like she’d grown an extra head.

  “No, you are not under investigation. I’m sorry for being so blunt. When I learned that Mrs. Lawson was on the board, I guess I expected…”

  “You expected an office full of old biddies sitting around planning tea parties?” Ellen asked.

  “Guilty as charged. Why don’t you explain how this office works?” Safe subject. Danny vowed to keep the rest of the meeting purely professional.

  “I’d be happy to. Alpha Nu has forty-three chapters at various college campuses around the country. In addition, we have twenty-four regional alumnae chapters. I run the national office, which sets policy, issues credentials, and serves as the hub for the various
chapters. It’s a pretty active position and I think they wanted to make sure whoever got the job was young enough to handle the high energy atmosphere.”

  Danny laughed at the well-intentioned dig delivered with a straight face. “Well, then you certainly seem to fit the bill.”

  “Glad you think so.”

  George cleared his throat and Danny felt the tips of her ears begin to burn with embarrassment. For a minute, she’d completely forgotten he was in the room. That she was here on a case. To talk to a potential witness. A beautiful smile, a teasing manner, and a refreshing bluntness—everything about Ellen Davenport made her forget who she was, why she was here, and most importantly, why she’d been avoiding beautiful women.

  Unacceptable. Time to get to the point and then get out. “We understand Martha Lawson had a board meeting scheduled the day she was…the day she died. Detective Ramirez has some questions for you about that.” She turned to George and willed him to take the lead.

  “Ms. Davenport—”

  Ellen held up a hand. “Ellen, please. Ms. Davenport brings to mind old biddies, don’t you think?”

  He grinned and Danny was glad and a little jealous she wasn’t the only one captivated by Ellen. “Okay. Ellen, we’re trying to track all of Mrs. Lawson’s activity on the day she died. Sometimes that includes looking into what she was scheduled to do, but didn’t wind up doing.”

  “So, your investigation isn’t focused on the sorority itself?”

  “Excuse me?”

  George appeared genuinely puzzled, but Danny read the scene and interjected. “She wants to know if the sorority is in any kind of legal trouble. You know, so she can consult with their lawyers. Am I right, Ellen? I imagine the sorority has a fleet of lawyers.”

  “Fleet is probably an overstatement, but you’ve got the point. Just doing my job.”

  “We have no reason to believe that Mrs. Lawson’s death is connected to the sorority in any way.” Danny conjured a mental image of tea-sipping sorority alumnae plotting the demise of one of their own, but her humor was quickly tempered by the dark memory of the torture inflicted on Martha Lawson. “Piecing together her activity on the day she died is a standard part of the investigation.”