“After he knocked out the tooth.”
“Then he walked behind Walter,” Noah stepped to the back of the chair, “and shot him in the head.”
“Why would he go in the closet?” Serena was playing along with him—if he couldn’t have Kit, she was the next best thing.
“Because Heather arrived.”
“If she’d had a key . . .”
“Right, but she didn’t.”
“So she left to get help.”
“And our killer stripped down and walked out, stuffing his bloody evidence in the bucket of bleach that he planted ahead of time in the janitor’s closet.”
Turning back to her, he watched her pull off her gloves and stash them in a red hazardous materials bag. She motioned for the two men from the coroner that she was finished with Walter’s body.
Then she looked at Noah. “All of those are good observations that raise a lot of questions. Sorry I can’t help much. I can tell you this,” she reached behind him and handed him a plastic bag, “I found this as soon as I walked in. It was lying beside his body.”
Noah held the object and turned it from side to side. “A gavel?”
“Yep. That’s what it looks like to me.”
“Do you think he meant to leave it?”
Serena shot him a look. “I haven’t taken up mind reading yet.”
“Cute.” He pursed his lips. “All right. So our victim is a law student. We find a miniature gavel on the floor next to him. Is it his? Or the killer’s?”
“Good questions.”
“The lab can run it for prints and see what we come up with. What else do you have?”
She blew out a sigh. “From the size of the wound, I can tell you that Walter was killed with a small-caliber handgun. Probably easy to hide, easy to use. Single gunshot wound to the back of the head at close range.”
“Why did Walter let him inside in the first place?” Noah answered his own question. “He trusted whoever it was.”
“That’s my guess.”
Noah blew out a sigh. “So we just track down everyone he knows on campus, ask each one where they were between 8:00 and 9:00 this morning, check each story, and find out who’s lying. Should take, what?” he mused, “two or three months to go through all that?”
Serena clucked her sympathy.
Tossing the sarcasm aside, he said, “All right, I’m done here.” He wished Kit could have walked the scene with him, but she’d have the photographs. Noah had requested more than usual—pictures from every conceivable angle so she would have the scene in detail.
He watched the men roll Walter’s body toward the door and something clicked. “Wait a minute.” The men stopped and Noah pulled the white sheet back to examine Walter’s wrist.
Serena paused. “What is it?”
“Does it look like he’s missing a watch he wears regularly?”
“That’s some pretty white skin in the midst of a developing tan. If you discount the marks made by whatever he was restrained with.”
“Either he didn’t have time to put the watch on before he was killed—”
“—or the killer took it,” Serena finished for him.
“Yeah.” He looked at Jake, who was in the midst of packing up his gear. “Hey, Jake, did you guys find a watch anywhere?”
Jake thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Nope, no watch. I’m positive, but I can check the contents of what we recovered if you want. But there wasn’t any watch.”
“Okay, thanks.” Noah exchanged a look with Serena. “Interesting. Wonder what that means?”
“You have any other murder cases matching this MO?”
“Not that I can think of offhand. I’ll pass it on to Captain Caruthers. He’ll be familiar with any cases where the murderer takes an item off his victim.”
“All right. I’ve got to get back to the lab.”
“And I’ve got a partner to check on.”
Worry ate at him. They’d been partners for a little over three weeks; he’d barely had a chance to argue with his superior about the fact that he wasn’t ready for another partner yet when he’d been informed of his pairing with Kit.
And he’d specifically not been ready for a female partner. His heart still ached for the last one—not in a romantic sense, but just for the loss. She’d never known it, but her husband had come to him and placed a heavy burden on his shoulders. “Watch out for her, Noah. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
And he’d failed. She died.
Did this one have a husband or significant other who would expect him to babysit her?
Not wanting to find out, he’d protested, been voted down, and Kit had knocked on his door two hours later. The instant zing of attraction he felt when he saw her standing there had simply fueled his ire.
Resigned to the possibility of babysitting her on the job, he snapped at her to get her tail in gear. She merely blinked at him and arched a brow.
Then meandered over close enough for him to smell her perfume. He liked it. She leaned in, standing in his space, making him a tad uncomfortable. But his feet would rot before he’d back away from her.
Very softly, she spoke. “Let’s get one thing straight right now, partner.” She nearly growled the word. “You treat me with respect, I’ll return the favor. If you can’t do that, we’re going to have some very serious issues. And frankly, I don’t need issues with someone I’m going to have to trust my life with. Are we clear?”
He crossed his arms, jutted his chin. “Trust is earned, lady.”
“Yes.” Finally she moved back a step. “It is. But so is disgust. I don’t know who did a number on you, but it wasn’t me. I don’t deserve it and won’t accept it.”
Guilt hit him and he silently admitted she was right. Out loud, he said, “Then let’s get started.”
They managed a truce of sorts over the next two weeks while he showed her the outstanding cases and brought her up to date on everything they’d be working on.
Now, as Noah pulled into the trailer park, he had to admit it hadn’t taken her long to earn his respect. He climbed out of the unmarked car. The heat sucker punched him as beads of sweat immediately put in an appearance on his forehead and upper lip. How he hated summer. And technically summer hadn’t even arrived. It was only the second day of May.
The air breathed tension as he crossed the dusty gravel drive to duck into the air-conditioned SERT van. He sucked in a breath of cool air and looked at Charlie Dunn, who worked at the computer. “How’s she doing?”
“Hanging in there. I think she’s actually going to talk him down.”
“She have on a vest?”
Charlie sighed and rubbed his chin. “She did when she went in. Don’t know how she’d keep it on in there without passing out, though. Bet you ten she took it off.”
“I’m not a betting man. So, what’s up with her? She can’t stay out of the line of fire and talk him down? By going in there, she’s just given this guy another hostage!”
Agitated, he slipped on an earpiece to listen.
2
The Judge rubbed his eyes, weary with all of the thinking he’d had to do lately. Searching for the perfect family, seeking ways to administer justice. And when it was all said and done, he’d go home and rub his old man’s face in it.
Over and over and over again. He giggled at his repetition. Threes always made him feel better.
Feel better, feel better, he echoed in his mind.
Then frowned. They’d have no choice but to admire him, to praise him for his brilliant mind and methods.
Especially those who’d laughed at him.
Those who’d mocked him, humiliated him.
Like Walter.
Poor Walter.
The Judge stretched out on the couch across from his father, who was seated—as usual—in his special armchair. He was awfully quiet this morning. “Nothing to say, old man?”
Silence.
The Judge grimaced. No matter. He w
ouldn’t let that spoil the moment.
He closed his eyes to bask in his brilliant accomplishment. It was still alive in his mind, so recent and so real that he could feel the adrenaline’s residual effects.
Ah, yes, Walter had been surprised to see him outside his door so early.
“Oh . . . What are you doing here?” Walter had said as he pulled open the door. “I thought you were Heather.”
At first, finding out that Heather was on her way had frustrated him, but he decided he could make the necessary adjustments. In fact, that had made the process even more interesting. He shortened the trial, pounded the gavel, and pronounced judgment, all before Heather had come knocking.
Really, he was grateful Heather didn’t have a key. He didn’t want to put Heather on trial and sentence her today. Besides, he wanted to enjoy this singular victory.
A snicker escaped him. Then another girlish giggle.
Walter wouldn’t be rolling his eyes at him again.
Twenty-five-year-old Bonnie Gray watched her mother swallow the heart medication, then took the glass from her shaky fingers. Only fifty-seven years old and already, it was like she was ninety. Grief splintered Bonnie’s heart and she bit her lip to hide the tremble.
Tucking the covers snugly around the frail woman, she leaned over to press a kiss against the soft forehead.
Her mother patted her cheek. “You’re a good daughter, Bonnie. What would I do without you?”
Bonnie smiled, love for her mother surrounding her, briefly pushing the grief aside. “You’ve taken care of me forever. I don’t mind helping you out. Now get some rest. We’ll talk when I get back.”
Her mother glanced at the clock and rolled her eyes. “A nap in the middle of the day. Ridiculous.”
At least she hadn’t lost her spunk. Her heart was just wearing out too fast. The medication helped, but she tired so easily these days, Bonnie feared she might lose her before they found a donor.
Shoving those thoughts away, she said, “Mary is here. She’ll check in on you in a little while. I’ve got to get to class, all right?”
“That’s fine, dear.” Another pat on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you. Graduation is coming up. Pretty soon, you’ll be practicing law with your daddy. You’ll make partner in record time, I just know it.” She shot her a shrewd look. “And not just because of who your dad is. You’ll do it because you’re smart and deserve it.”
Bonnie smiled again, gave a little laugh to hide her aching heart. If she could, she would have given her own heart to her mother. “That’s the plan, Mom.” She kept her tone upbeat and light. “I’m young and naïve enough to believe I’m going to change the world.”
Her mother sighed and closed her eyes. “You will, Bonnie. You’ll do something wonderful with your life.” Then her eyes popped back open. “But don’t forget I want to be a grandmother one day.”
A pang hit her. “I know.”
“I haven’t seen Justin around lately. Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine.” She nearly gagged on the lie, but didn’t have the time to share all of the recent changes in her love life. Not that she wanted to share them all. Some things were better off left unsaid.
Bonnie squirmed under the woman’s scrutiny. She needed to work up the courage to tell her about everything, ask her advice—beg her forgiveness. Instead, she just leaned over, gave her one more kiss, then stood. “I’ll be back later tonight. We’ll have supper together.”
“Goodbye.” The word was a whisper. Already her mother was slipping into sleep.
Bonnie hurried to her room and grabbed her things, her car keys, and her purse. As she did, she saw the picture on her nightstand. Justin’s laughing blue eyes stared back at her. Why did she still have it? In a fit of anger, she slapped it facedown. She’d dispose of it later. Keeping the picture was too much like she was holding out hope that they would one day get back together.
But that wasn’t possible. She didn’t even need him now anyway. She’d found someone else. Someone who was crazy about her. Someone she never would have thought had the kind of feelings he did until the night she’d shown up on his doorstep crying, unsure where else to go . . .
But Justin . . .
She drew in a deep breath and admitted he’d been her first real love. The only man who’d ever made her even think about marriage.
And his memory still hurt.
They’d made a trip to the beach and had had so much fun. Grief twisted through her. She’d found the drugs two hours before they were supposed to drive home. She’d been crushed, devastated.
“Are you crazy? Do you know what would happen if these were found on you and I was with you?” she screamed as she threw the bags at him.
And he tried to explain. “I just need a little help dealing with the pressure of school. I’m not a junkie, I swear. Look.” He went to the suitcase, grabbed the bag of white powder, another bag of pills, and flushed them down the toilet. “I won’t touch anything ever again.”
But it didn’t matter. Once was enough. And the fact that she’d been with him when he had them on him. What if they’d been stopped? “I can’t deal with this right now. I need to get away from you.”
She stormed out with his curses and pleas ringing in her ears, hailed a taxi to the airport, and snagged a rental car. She alternated between crying and beating the steering wheel all the way home.
It was a wonder she made it in one piece.
That night she sobbed on her best friend Chelsea Bennett’s shoulder and avoided Justin’s calls.
When she refused to answer the door and threatened to call the police if he didn’t leave her alone, he finally complied and her heart had shattered into a million tiny pieces.
Until her “friend” had picked it up and begun the process of putting it back together.
She picked up the picture frame she’d slapped down and opened the back of it. Removing the picture she’d hidden, she stared down at the man who’d let her cry on his shoulder that night. She hadn’t even been aware of driving to his house, what she’d been searching for, but this man had been there. He’d opened his arms and she stepped in. Cried out her grief at the death of her relationship.
And he held her and then kissed her.
And she responded. Desperately needing someone to help her forget, if only for a few hours.
Even if it was the wrong thing to do.
The guilt in his eyes nearly killed her. So she’d leaned over and reassured him that he had nothing to feel guilty about.
From the safety of his car, he watched Bonnie leave the house. Little miss Bonnie. So rich, so snotty, with her nose stuck up in the air every time she looked at him.
Well, he’d soon fix that. He tapped the miniature gavel against his palm. Flipping his left wrist, he glanced at his watch and swore. He didn’t have much time.
He had to get back before he was missed. His fingers itched to place the pistol to the back of her head and pull the trigger. But not until she’d had a fair trial. You couldn’t get the death penalty until you were found guilty.
He had no doubt the verdict the jury would reach in the trial of Bonnie Gray.
After all, there was only one juror, one judge—
And one executioner.
3
“Ask ’em.”
“What?” Kit cocked her head in a listening way. Sweat trickled down the middle of her back. She’d slipped the vest off after an hour. If she’d left it on, she’d have passed out from heatstroke by now.
“Ask them what they’ll do for me.”
“Sure, I can do that. Who do you want me to ask?”
“The . . . the DA. Yeah. Get the DA here. I wanna talk to him.”
Kit pulled out her phone, then paused. “I’ll do this, Virgil, but you know they’re going to want something from you first.”
“What? What do they want?”
He reached back to take a swig from the water bottle behind him. The case of water had b
ought the freedom of little two-year-old Jessie. Kit refused to drink more than a sip every so often. No bathroom breaks allowed on this job.
Kit motioned toward Melanie. “Let her go.”
For a fraction of a second, she thought he might refuse. She even saw his lips begin to form the word. Then Anne stood, her long blonde hair stringing down her face, sticking to the dried tears on her cheeks.
“Let her go, Virgil. You’re right. I shouldn’t have said I’d leave you.”
Not caring where the woman’s backbone finally came from, just glad it had appeared, Kit nodded. As long as the woman said the right thing, she’d let her talk.
Anne stepped forward. “Let Melanie go outside and the three of us will talk. We’ll straighten this out and I’ll tell them it was all just a misunderstanding, okay?”
Virgil shifted, his eyes darting back and forth between his wife and Kit. Kit kept an encouraging expression on her face and an eye on the gun. He still held it steady even as he studied Anne’s face. Melanie gently pulled away from her father. Virgil didn’t let her go completely, but he no longer looked like he was pulling the girl’s hair out by the roots.
Anne held out a hand. “Come on, Virg, let her go. She’s not a part of this. I’m to blame, not her.”
In one frantic move, Virgil shoved Melanie into Kit’s arms and grabbed his wife’s wrist to pull her to him. “Get her out. I never wanted to hurt the kids in the first place.”
Kit took Melanie by the hand and picked up the cell phone. Virgil didn’t know about the piece in her ear and she preferred to keep it that way for now. She pressed the number for her boss. He picked it up before the first ring ended. “You got a hostage coming out?”
“Word travels fast. Virgil has agreed to let Melanie go.”
“Tell her to run as soon as she hits the porch. We’ll have someone meet her.”
Kit opened the door and sunlight streamed in through the crack. She took a deep breath of the fresh humid air and felt fortified. Melanie hesitated on the doorstep and took one last look back at her parents. Her father held her mother in the same position he once held Melanie, his hand tangled in the woman’s long hair. Anne blinked back tears of pain but said nothing.
A Killer Among Us Page 2
