Noah shuddered at the thought and forced that image from his mind. He said, “Let’s talk to each victim’s family and friends again and see if they know Corey. Even though he’s not a student, maybe he’s associated with the college in some way.”
Kit held up a hand. “Wait a minute. Wait a minute. What’s the guy’s name again? Corey? And he was in the military?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Could be nothing, but I just wonder . . . I think I need to talk to my neighbor. I mean, there are a lot of guys out there named Corey, but—”
Noah groaned. “Great. Here come the news cameras.”
Alena’s eyes went wide as she saw who was on the breaking news announcement. The next victim of the serial killer. Corey. “No,” she whispered to the television. “Please, no.”
She’d dated him only a few times, but had found herself really liking the guy. Had thought she might have finally met the one she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with—and now this.
Roscoe whined at her side and she absently reached down to stroke his soft ears.
“Oh Corey.”
Was Kit investigating his murder? Probably. She’d asked about Walter and he had been the first victim. Bolting to her feet, she looked at the clock. 6:06. Should she go over? Desperate for someone to talk to, she decided to see if Kit was home.
She and Roscoe walked the six feet separating her entrance from Kit’s. Raising a shaking hand, she rapped on Kit’s door. The porch light was on, but there wasn’t any sign of life coming from inside. Kit’s car wasn’t in the driveway, but that didn’t mean anything. Sometimes her partner dropped her off, then picked her up the next morning.
“Kit? Are you home?” The heat seemed to press in on her and she shivered even though the humidity had caused a fine sheen of sweat to break across her forehead the minute she’d stepped outside.
Even though the news hadn’t shown a picture of Corey dead, Alena couldn’t stop her imagination from picturing the worst. Nearly sobbing now, she went back to her side of the duplex and collapsed onto the couch. Roscoe hopped up beside her and lay his head on her thigh. She leaned over and buried her face in his fur and let the tears flow.
29
Still no word from the captain. Kit sat at her desk, looking at the chart Noah had come up with. The graph lines seemed to shift and her eyes crossed. How long had she been staring at it anyway?
“Got anything?”
Kit looked up to see Noah behind her. She hadn’t heard him come up, but he sure looked good now that he was here. Her eyes needed the reprieve.
The term eye candy came to mind and she nearly giggled out loud. That sobered her. She was so tired she was giddy.
“Kit?”
“Right. No. I don’t have anything. The knife we found at Bonnie’s crime scene still bothers me.”
“I know. And word just in. We got zip on the Tyvek suit from Walter’s scene. The bleach did its job. However, the crime scene unit found a lot of hairs and are trying to match them up with who they belong to. We’re asking for volunteers to come in and give us a hair sample.”
Kit tapped her mouth. “Well, the real killer’s not going to do that. But at least we can rule out some people and we’ll have something to compare it to when we do nab him.”
“That’s the plan.”
“And all we know about Corey is that he was drugged.”
“He was?”
“Oh yeah, sorry.” Kit nodded. “While you were on the phone with Dakota, Serena called. He had Rohypnol in his system.”
“Roofies? A date rape drug?”
“Yep.”
Noah blew out a breath. “I wonder if he knew what hit him.”
She shrugged. “There’s no way to know. It takes twenty to thirty minutes to work and then lasts for hours.”
“Which means our guy may not have even been awake for his ‘trial and execution.’ ” Noah wiggled his fingers around the last three words.
“Honestly, I hope that’s the case.” She passed him another report. “Susan’s gas line was cut.”
“Well, you’re just a fount of information this afternoon, aren’t you?”
He took the paper from her hand. His fingers brushed hers and an electric shock made her yelp.
Noah jerked and then laughed, leaned next to her ear, and whispered, “Touching you always does that to me.”
An instantaneous flush suffused her and she gasped, unsure whether to laugh or hit him. “Noah . . .”
He backed off and said, “Sorry. What else do you have?”
Blowing out a sigh and resisting the urge to grab a notepad off her desk to fan her hot cheeks with, she said, “Olivia noted that this guy is a planner, yet he sometimes acts impulsively.”
“Such as when he followed us to North Carolina.”
“Right.”
“Got a package for you.” The announcement made Kit jump, her heart pounding. She’d been so focused on Noah and their conversation she hadn’t heard anyone approach.
One of the department’s secretaries handed her a plain brown envelope. As she took it, she noted no return address. “Who brought this?”
“I don’t know. I found it on my desk when I got back from lunch.” Kit thanked her and the woman left.
“Open it and let’s see what we’ve got.”
“It’s addressed to me.” Taking a deep breath, she blew out a little laugh. “I might want to call the bomb squad the way things have been going for me lately.”
He laughed, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s flat, like a letter or a photo or something.”
“Or anthrax,” she muttered.
Noah held out a hand. “Want me to do it?”
“Nope.” Kit opened her bottom desk drawer and pulled out a pair of latex gloves.
At his wide eyes and raised brow, she shrugged. “Never hurts to be prepared.”
With a shake of his head, he covered a small grin, but not before she caught it. And her heart somersaulted into the pit of her stomach. Her mind flashed to that kiss that had singed the enamel from her teeth.
“What are you waiting for?”
She blinked. “Right.”
The envelope had made it past security. There was nothing to worry about.
But like she said, being prepared never hurt anyone.
Slipping a gloved finger under the flap, she pulled it apart and opened the envelope. She tilted it and several pictures fell out.
She picked up the top one and gave a gasp. “That’s Stephen Wells and Bonnie Gray.”
“Having a pretty intimate dinner, if you ask me.”
“Well, we definitely need to ask him about this.” She looked at Noah. “Why don’t you try the captain again?”
While he dialed, she looked at the next picture. “Hey, isn’t this victim number four?”
“It sure is.” He hung up and slipped his phone back into his pocket. “No answer.” He leaned over her shoulder to get a look. “They’re shaking hands. Where is this? Some kind of ceremony?” Then he drew in a breath. “Hey, wait a minute. I recognize this,” he said slowly. “It was on the news about two weeks ago. There was a big to-do downtown recognizing military personnel for their service in Iraq.”
“So that puts the DA with two of our victims.” She looked up at him. “Do you think we could place him in the company of the other two?”
“I’m almost afraid to ask him.” Noah blew out a sigh and pulled out his cell phone again. It vibrated in his hand.
He looked at the number, then at Kit. “It’s the captain.”
Stephen Wells did not look happy. Kit didn’t care. If the man was a killer, she wanted him behind bars. Out of respect for the man’s position, they were all seated in the captain’s office.
Stephen stared straight ahead. “What is it that can’t wait until Monday morning?”
“The death of Bonnie Gray,” Kit said bluntly.
The man blanched. “All right. What have you found?”
Did she dare be blunt? No doubt it would come back to haunt her but . . . “A reason to believe that you killed her.”
His face paled. “What? I can’t believe you would think I had something to do with Bonnie’s death.”
Noah handed him the envelope. “Open it.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
With one more disgruntled look at the three of them, he did as requested. When the pictures slid out, Kit wouldn’t have thought the man could possibly lose any more color in his face, but she watched it happen. He looked up and swallowed. “Who took these?”
“We don’t know. They were delivered to me about an hour ago.” She paused, then asked softly, “You had an affair with her, didn’t you?”
“What would make you come to that conclusion?”
“The picture. The fact that her father reported that she seemed to get over losing Justin Marlowe in record time. And,” she ticked off the next finger, “her friend Chelsea said Bonnie had been very quiet and mysterious about her love life but told her that she would be able to tell her everything soon.”
“And the jewelry,” Noah added.
Kit nodded. “And the jewelry I found in her room. We went back to get some photos of it so we could trace it and it was gone. That’s because when I mentioned doing that the day of Bonnie’s murder, you freaked. Later, you went back to the house under the guise of friendship and snatched the items. Didn’t you?”
The man didn’t speak for a few minutes. When he looked up, his ragged features held guilt and self-condemnation. But he still protested. “I just don’t understand how you’ve come to this horrid conclusion.”
“We’ve got you on an ATM video camera walking to the jewelry store. You wore a hat and sunglasses. The lady who sold you the pieces remembered you because you paid cash.”
“Did you copycat her murder, Stephen?” the captain asked. “Because I know you didn’t kill Walter. I called your wife and asked her your whereabouts that day. You were on a plane coming home from Washington.”
The man flinched. “No. No, I didn’t copycat her murder.” The DA’s voice was so low she almost couldn’t hear it. “But,” he looked up, defeat taking the place of his earlier look of guilt, “I was having an affair with her. Yes.”
Kit felt a roll of revulsion in the pit of her stomach. Not necessarily at the age difference, but at the betrayal of a man who trusted him. His best friend. And his poor wife . . .
Stephen must have read something in her look, because he looked away and muttered, “You’re not thinking anything I haven’t already told myself but I had absolutely no reason to kill Bonnie.”
“You did if she was pressuring you to leave your wife. Or threatening to tell your wife about the affair.”
Again Stephen flinched. He closed his eyes.
“Do you have an alibi for the night of her murder?” Noah interjected.
The man’s eyes popped open. “I . . . I don’t know. I’ll have to check my schedule.”
“Come on, Stephen. You know exactly where you were that night. If you didn’t kill her, then you’re beating yourself up for not being with her, protecting her.” Kit had switched into her hostage negotiation voice almost automatically.
He looked at her. “I was home. In bed with my wife. Our grandchildren were spending the night.”
“So, you feel guilty for being with your wife while your mistress was being killed.”
He blew out a sigh and shook his head. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? I’d feel guilty for being with Bonnie, and when I was with my wife, I’d feel guilty for being with her.” His throat convulsed and he looked out the window. “I really messed up.” Then he took a deep breath and seemed to compose himself a bit. “Look, is there any way to keep this under wraps? I’ve done nothing wrong in the eyes of the law. In the eyes of all that’s ethical and moral, that’s another story. However, Bonnie was of legal age. No crime has been committed.”
Noah, the captain, and Kit glanced at each other. Then the captain stood. “For now. But we’re still investigating this and we need to search your home.”
The man paled. “For what?”
“Because we have a motive for Bonnie’s murder!” For the first time, the captain looked agitated. “Your wife is your alibi. Come on. If this were any other suspect, what would you say?”
Stephen hung his head. “I’d say get a warrant and then visit the judge.”
“Right. So you’re going to stay put until we’re done with your house.”
“Do you think he killed her?” Kit leaned back in her chair and propped her feet on her desk.
“I don’t know.” Noah perched on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms. “Sounds like he’s got a pretty solid alibi.”
She lifted a brow at him. “His wife? A solid alibi?”
“Okay, so maybe not solid, but if she says he was with her all night . . .”
“I know.”
“Let’s get over to his house and see what we can find. I’m not sure I totally buy his story.”
It was a twenty-minute drive to the outskirts of town, and Kit soon found herself looking at the houses along the way. “I guess I’m going to need to take vacation time if I’m ever going to do some serious house hunting.”
“Oh, speaking of house hunting, I talked to Skip, my realtor buddy. Former buddy. Ex . . . whatever. He said he’d be glad to get some information from you and help you narrow down your search.”
“That’d be great. How’s he doing?”
“He’s still grieving, but at least he’s not casting blame so blatantly anymore. I managed to talk him into talking to the pastor of my church, so maybe that’ll help too.”
“You do that a lot, don’t you?”
“What?”
He didn’t even realize it, she thought. “Steer people toward church.”
He paused a minute. “I look at it as steering people toward God, not necessarily church. I know the pastor of my church is a godly man and listens well. I feel good about referring people to him.” He tossed her a smile. “And isn’t that what it’s all about? Making a difference in the lives of others? Even if it means reaching them one by one?”
This time it was her turn for a moment of silence. Then she said, “You’re a good man, Noah Lambert, aren’t you?”
A flush climbed into his cheeks and he shrugged. She decided to let him off the hook. “After we search the good DA’s house, I want to find Justin Marlowe.”
“Still hung up on that knife thing, are you?” He looked relieved at the change of topic.
“Yes, I am. He was lying about how he lost it. I want to talk to him without his father around.”
“Sounds good to me.” He made a turn and pulled into a circular driveway and parked at the top in view of the front door.
Climbing out of the vehicle, they made their way up the steps and Kit rang the bell.
For a moment there was only the echoing sound of the doorbell coming from within, then footsteps crossing the foyer. Kit saw the shadow right before she heard the deadbolt disengage. “That’s probably his wife. She’s in for a shock.”
“Yes.” His lips pressed together hard enough to form a white line around them.
Before she had a chance to ask him if he was all right, the door opened and a classy lady in her fifties stared up at them. A question formed in her eyes, then made it to her lips. “Can I help you?”
Kit held up her badge. “I’m Detective Kit Kenyon. This is my partner, Detective Noah Lambert.”
“Oh, you must work with Stephen. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Dee Wells. Please. Come in.” She stepped back and Noah and Kit entered the well-kept home.
Dee Wells. When they’d first figured out that Stephen might be involved in the killings, Kit had done her homework. Mrs. Wells came from old money and high society. She worked with various charities and ate lunch at The Debutante’s Caviar every Tuesday at 12:30 sharp.
She led them into the d
en area and motioned for them to have a seat on the brown leather sectional couch. Noah cleared his throat. “Ma’am, we’re here on official business. We have a warrant to search the house.”
Color receding as his words sank in, Mrs. Wells placed a hand at the base of her throat. “Excuse me?”
“Ah, we have reason to believe that District Attorney Wells is somehow involved in the killings of the Wofford Law College students.”
She shook as though stranded in a blizzard. “Oh . . . oh my. But . . . but that’s just not possible.”
Kit stepped forward and took the lady’s hand. “Please, sit down. This all may be for nothing, but it’s a lead we’ve got to investigate. Try not to get upset yet. Is there someone I can call for you?”
“Stephen. You can call Stephen.”
Glancing at Noah, she caught movement at the door. “The other officers are here. I’m going to let them in.”
He nodded and said, “Mrs. Wells, who can I call for you besides your husband?”
“Oh dear. I just don’t know. I suppose I should call my best friend, Rachel.”
“What’s her number?”
While Noah took care of the woman, Kit opened the door and waved the crew in. “Go easy on the place, okay? Treat this house with respect, but search every nook and cranny.”
The lead officer nodded and waved his team in. They got busy and Kit walked back into the den. “Where’s Mr. Wells’s office?”
“Um, the second door on the left down the hall. But he’s very particular. He doesn’t want anyone in there.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Wells. He doesn’t have a choice today.”
The woman followed Kit. “I don’t understand. What has he done? He’d never do anything illegal. Never.”
“I understand that you feel that way, but we have some evidence that simply needs corroborating. If we find that—” She broke off as she entered the office—and nearly swallowed her tongue.
Grabbing her radio, she called for Noah. “Get in here. You’ve got to see this.”
30
Noah directed Mrs. Wells into the care of another officer, then stepped inside the office, looked around, and zeroed in on the opposite wall. “Whoa.”
A Killer Among Us Page 21
