by Mary Burton
“What was his name?”
“Why do you care?”
“What was his name?”
“Philip Latimer.”
Blue eyes narrowed, and she sensed a shuffling through more old files tucked in his memory. “Did you and Deidre get together often?”
“We went out for drinks a few times. She had me over to her place once or twice. I liked Deidre. She reached out to me when I joined the gym. She was nice.”
“You liked her well enough to check up on her when she didn’t show up to the running group.”
And so they circled back to the murder. “She’d said she’d be running on Monday. We challenged each other to be there. Deidre didn’t back down from a challenge. I saw it in the group enough times.”
“Explain.”
“There are a couple of gals who run as well as Deidre. Several times they got into sprint challenges. Deidre went all out each time. She never lost.”
His gaze flickered over her frame. “I’d think you’d be a good runner.”
She had been in high school. But she’d never fully recovered from the stabbing. “Nope. Not fast at all.”
His hands slid from his pockets as he straightened his shoulders a fraction. “Do you ever remember Deidre being afraid?”
He liked to switch back and forth, keep her off balance. “No. Frustrated and angry once or twice but never afraid.”
“What upset her?”
“Her divorce. That last day we ran, she mentioned it. I told you she thought he’d keyed her car.”
“You never saw him around?”
She frowned. “You keep asking me the same questions. I guess that’s part of a cop’s Jedi mind-trick kind of thing, but it’s not gonna work on me. I’ve told you all I know.”
Like a striking match, his eyes burned with humor for a split second. “Notice any men hanging around when you were with her?”
A search of her memory produced a memorable detail. “There’s been a black truck at the track a couple of times. You think it was him?”
“That black truck was me.”
“You? This morning, that was you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Curious to see who would show after her death.”
“Were you in the woods?”
“I was.”
Relief collided with anger. “Then why ask about my running? If you were there, you know I suck.”
“You’ve got sand, I’ll give you that.”
She wasn’t sure if she should be charmed or pissed by his honesty. “You kinda freaked me out.”
“You didn’t look freaked out.”
“Never let them see you sweat.”
A brow cocked. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Have you found anything at the crime scene to help find the killer? I thought you had all the latest in forensics.”
“We’re going through all the evidence. We’ll find out who did this. I promise you that.”
He was a methodical, careful hunter, not driven by passion or rage but logic. In her mind, that made him far more dangerous. “Do you know when her funeral is going to be held?”
“No date set yet.”
“The running group wants to be there. I want to be there.”
“I’ll be in touch with you.”
“Right.” She fumbled through her keys until she had the fob in her hand.
Alex stood there as she unlocked the door, slid behind the wheel, and started the engine. “See you soon.”
With him standing there, she resisted the urge to check the backseat. She drove, not daring a peek into the rearview mirror, sensing his gaze and remembering exactly what it felt like to be in a predator’s sights.
Alex picked up Deke at the Nashville Police Department offices just after six. The sun had set and the rolling land around the offices was dark on this moonless night.
“So did you get a lead on Ray?”
“I did.” Deke stretched out his long legs and relaxed back against the seat. Deke, like Alex, lowered his guard just a little when it was just family. “He’s been staying out of sight, but that ankle bracelet makes it easy to find him.”
“Where’s he staying?”
“His house is about twenty miles north of the city. He’s in a gated community.”
“Gated. Fancy. Crime pays.”
Deke snorted. “It’s going to be a short-term investment when he goes to prison.”
Alex shifted in his seat. He’d seen enough guys like Ray elude justice to assume the case pending was a slam dunk. “You said, according to his bracelet, he was at home.”
“Makes more sense that he’d send someone to do his dirty work.”
Deke shook his head as he folded his arms over his chest. “That’s the thing with Ray. He likes to do the dirty work. If he wanted Deidre dead, he’d do it himself.”
“With all his troubles, it makes sense for him to hire out the job.”
“Read the interviews with Ray Murphy,” Deke said, flicking lint from his pants.
“Give me the CliffsNotes.”
“They revealed a psychology that teeters on psychotic. He loves to create fantasy worlds. Guy wears a black goatee sculpted into a long point. Thinks it makes him look like a devil. His sideburns were also trimmed into sharp edges. Wears hints of dark makeup around his eyes.” Deke shook his head. “I’d have laughed if not for the pictures taken at the raid of his competition’s warehouse. The raiding crew found six men strung up by their feet. Their bodies had been scorched nearly to the bone.”
Scorched. Like the warehouse victim? “The more, the better.”
“It’s high entertainment for this sick bastard.”
“So stabbing Deidre isn’t out of his realm.”
“Not at all.”
They arrived at the mansion, a very traditional brick Colonial with a large circular driveway and a white expanse of steps that led to black lacquer double front doors.
Alex reached for a brass door knocker shaped like a dragon’s head. “He’s in to dragons.”
“I’d heard that.”
The door opened to a tall, muscular man who wore a Glock at his side. Behind him were two other men, also armed.
Alex and Deke held up their badges. “We’re here to see Ray.”
The man glanced at the badges and turned to one of the other guards, who vanished behind a pair of pocket doors. “Please come in.”
The entryway wall was covered with a large, intricate mural of a young man fighting a legion of dragons. The dragons were painted in tremendous detail, including scaly faces, fanged teeth, and red eyes that all but jumped off the wall.
They didn’t have to wait long before Ray Murphy appeared. He wore his trademark goatee and sideburns, a purple silk shirt, and pants that lay over the bulge of his ankle bracelet. Barefooted, he moved toward them with a wide grin on his face and his hand extended. “I haven’t had the law here in a couple of days. Agent Morgan and Detective Morgan.” He studied them. “Must be brothers.”
Deke ignored the comment. “We have a few questions.”
Ray moved into a side parlor decorated in deep purples and with pictures of dragons and wizards. In a large stone hearth, a fire blazed. Ray sat on a large, plush chair, resting his arms along the back. “What brings you out here today? It’s an unexpected surprise.”
“Just came to ask you about Sunday.”
“What about it?” He looked amused by the question as he relaxed back in his seat.
“Where were you?”
Ray laughed as he jerked up his pant leg. The thick tracking device was strapped to his ankle. “Church.”
“And after church?”
“Pull up the data on my bracelet.”
“I’m asking you.”
“I was here.”
“Mind if Agent Morgan checks your anklet?”
“Have at it.” Ray wiggled his toes but didn’t bother to rise.
Alex shook his head. “Stand
up. Put your foot up on a chair.”
Ray grinned. “Don’t want to kneel before the dragon lord?”
Alex’s expression remained stoic.
With a shrug, Ray rose from the chair, settled his foot on an ottoman, and lifted his silk pants leg. Alex moved forward and inspected the monitoring device. “It looks intact.” He stepped back. “No signs of tampering.”
“Mind telling me why you’re checking?” Ray settled back against the chair cushions.
“Don’t you have a girlfriend, Ray? I think her name is Kendra?” Deke asked.
Eyes darkened with suspicion. “Kendra. Why do you want to know about Kendra?”
“Where is she?”
“New York. Shopping for my birthday present.” He rolled his shoulders, muscles flexing with a portion of an elaborate tiger tattoo. “No, wait. She’s in protective custody. That cop got her and she flipped on me.”
“Funny you should mention that detective. She was killed Sunday.”
Ray tsked as he glanced at buffed fingernails. “Damn, that’s too bad. What was her name again?”
“Deidre Jones. From what I hear, Deidre got Kendra to wear a wire. Those tapes are what got you in trouble.”
A smile quirked his lips. “My lawyer isn’t so sure about that. This case is no slam dunk for the cops.”
“That’s not what I heard. I also heard you were pissed and threatened to kill Detective Jones and anyone who talked to her.”
“I don’t recall anything like that.” Ray’s smile widened and a gold tooth flashed. “And last I heard, Kendra is alive and well. Besides, I have no hard feelings for Kendra.” He touched his fingertips to his breastbone. “I love her.”
Deke shook his head. “Kendra’s lucky a guy like you is so forgiving.”
“That’s what I told her,” Ray said.
“You forgive the cop that got her to wear the wire?”
Dark eyes glinted before he smiled. “Deidre Jones is nothing to me.”
“If we can believe that anklet, you didn’t kill her, but maybe you sent someone to do your dirty work. Maybe you told your guy to mess her up bad . . . send a message to Kendra.”
“I don’t care about a damn detective. And Kendra and I’ve gone our separate ways. Alive or dead, she makes no difference to me. You said she was messed up. How was it done? How was she killed?”
Deke’s tone deepened. “Stabbed.”
Ray shook his head. “That’s got to hurt. Hell of a way to go.”
Alex kept his voice low, even. “You like knives, don’t you, Ray?”
He nodded, shrugged. “I do like them. But I didn’t kill your detective. And I don’t know who did.”
Deke’s headlights shone bright on the rental car parked in the lot by the running trail. He pulled up beside the four door and checked his watch. “Hell of a place and time to meet.”
“She and Deidre talked about this place. She knew Deidre loved it here. She wanted to see it and I didn’t want another night to pass without talking to her.”
Deke pointed toward a bench where a lone woman sat, staring at the park. “Deidre’s sister, Joy?”
“That would be my guess.”
Neither liked rehashing the details of the detective’s death, and interviewing loved ones who’d lost family always left a sour taste. “Let’s do this.”
They found Joy Martin sitting on the bench, her hands resting in her lap as she stared down the path. It was as if she were trying to picture Deidre’s last steps on the path. She wore a midweight overcoat suitable for California but not nearly adequate for the cold nights here. Long hair draped her narrow shoulders. Silver rings decorated long fingers. She tapped a nervous high-heeled foot.
Alex pulled his badge from his pocket. “Ms. Martin.”
Joy looked up with brittle green eyes that reminded him of Deidre. “You must be Agent Morgan.”
He tucked the badge back in his breast pocket. “Yes, ma’am. We spoke on the phone. This is Detective Deke Morgan. He’s with Nashville Homicide.”
“Two Morgans?”
“We’re brothers, ma’am.”
“Ah.” Nodding, she turned her gaze back to the woods. “She mentioned you both a few times. Frankly, I don’t think she liked either of you.”
“I’m not the most likable guy,” Alex said. “And neither is Deke.” He kept his tone soft.
Deke nodded. “We won’t win any popularity contests.”
Joy looked up at Deke, a wistful expression in her gaze. “She said you were one of the best detectives she ever worked with. She respected you.”
He moved toward the bench but didn’t sit, as if he were breaching a hallowed space. “I’m trying to find out what happened.” He avoided using the words killed or died. The words triggered hard emotions that muddied clear thinking.
She rose and stood almost as tall as Deidre. Her shoulders weren’t as wide, but her body was equally lean. “You know she was getting a divorce.”
“Yes.”
“It wasn’t friendly.” She slid her hands into her pockets. “Tyler didn’t want to let go.”
“She didn’t talk about her personal life. But I’ve since learned the divorce was rough.”
“No, she wouldn’t want anyone at the office to know. She loved her job and never wanted anything to tarnish her reputation.” She turned from the path in the woods. “She was dating again. A guy named David. I met David once. Struck me as lots of fun and no substance, but a step up from Tyler.”
“I understand you and Tyler weren’t close.”
“No, we’re not. In fact, Deidre and I had grown distant because of him. I don’t like him. She was too good for him. It was only after they separated that we reconnected.”
“Anything unusual going on with your sister that you know of?”
She twisted a silver ring on her index finger. “She was really rattled the last time we spoke. I asked her what was going on, but she wouldn’t tell me. Said it had to do with a case.”
“She mention anything about the case?” Deke asked.
“She just said she’d made a mistake and now she was going to have to fix the problem so that she could move on with her life.”
“A mistake?” Alex asked. Sins of the past; David’s words echoed.
The sister nodded. Tears filled her eyes and a few escaped down her cheek. She swiped them away. “I think it had to do with me.”
“You?”
“I got into trouble five years ago, when I was in college in Nashville. I was arrested for dealing. I was holding a lot when they caught me. Enough that I faced felony charges. I was in a panic. The arresting officer told me I could go to prison for twenty years. I called my sister as soon as they offered me a phone. Deidre had just made detective in Vice.”
Good cops went bad for a lot of reasons. Sometimes it was money or greed. Sometimes the motivations were cold and calculating. “You told Deidre about the dealing?”
“Yes. I told her I was scared. I told her the local cops had evidence that would put me away for years. I cried. Deidre didn’t say anything for a long, long time. She then asked if I’d be willing to go to rehab if she helped me.”
“Did you agree?” Alex asked.
“I swore I would. Of course I’d sworn before, but in that moment, I really meant it.”
Tension banded in Alex’s chest as he wondered what he’d do to help a sibling.
“Deidre said she would help me. She asked for the arresting officer’s name. And I gave it to her.”
“What happened?”
Joy threaded her fingers together. “She told me to sit tight. She’d call me soon.”
“And she came through?” Alex asked.
“Yeah. She came through. About five hours later, she told me the evidence was gone. I was free. She drove me straight to rehab and I stayed for sixty days.” She raised her chin. “I haven’t used since.”
“Why do you think this relates to her death?” Deke asked.
“Like I
said, Deidre was upset when we were talking on the phone. She was actually afraid of a past mistake. I asked her about it, and when she wouldn’t answer, I knew it had to do with my arrest. She was so by the book. She wouldn’t have bent the rules, except for me.”
“And she told you she was going to fix this problem?” Alex asked.
“Yes. I asked Deidre how, but she told me not to worry about it. I asked her if there were anything I could do, and she said she’d figure it out. Said not to worry. She was gonna kill two birds with one stone. Said not to worry.”
“Do you know what that means?”
“I don’t know. I wish I did. I might have been able to save her.” She glanced toward the park, as if wondering where her sister would be if she’d taken a different path.
Did it all go back to Joy’s case and the missing evidence? “Do you remember the name of the arresting officer?”
“Yeah. I’ll never forget it. Philip Latimer.”
Alex had returned to his office immediately and done a search on Philip Latimer. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Latimer had been married to Leah, and Deidre had sought Leah out. Pieces of the puzzle didn’t quite connect, but they had moved closer.
It didn’t take much digging for Latimer’s name to pop. He’d been a cop in Nashville for eight years, and he’d served with distinction. He’d also been disciplined after his estranged wife had filed stalking charges against him. According to statements, Latimer had sworn he’d lay off the wife. Tensions had appeared to ease, and then Latimer had broken into his wife’s apartment and tried to stab her to death. He’d eluded the cops and gotten out of Tennessee. He’d died in a car accident three weeks later in South Carolina.
How had Latimer gotten out of town? Did he have help?
Deidre had said she’d clean up her sister’s legal mess. Had she’d figured she’d approach Latimer and ask for a favor?
Alex had no proof that Deidre had ever contacted Latimer, but a connection was logical. Another puzzle piece.
Several calls to the Nashville Police Department earned him the files that detailed Leah’s stabbing. Within an hour, he was staring at the graphic images of her bedroom sprayed bright red with her blood. It could have been Deidre’s crime scene.
