“I got Sean’s message.” Her mother’s voice was distant. “I can’t really talk right now.”
“Daddy’s right there?”
“Yes, he is.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“I don’t know right now, Ryan. We’ll talk later.” Ryan could hear her mother’s voice getting shaky, and she felt sorry for her for a second. She wondered if the captain knew that Patti had been living so nearby all this time.
Ryan started the Jeep and was halfway home when Shep called.
“I’ve got some information. Can you meet me at the station?”
She tried to think of a way to ask him about Wanda, but decided she would be better off asking him in person. She wanted to see his face when he answered her. “I’m on my way. And speaking of Patti, she’s dead.”
“What?”
“She’s dead.” She was surprised at how little emotion she felt at the death of her biological mother. “Doug hasn’t done the autopsy yet, but he said there were no obvious signs of homicide. Is that too much of a coincidence? Patti dies the night before I go to meet her?”
“I don’t know, baby. Did you tell anybody other than me that you were going there today?”
“I have a vague recollection of mentioning it more than once last night. Any number of people might have heard me. I was drunk, remember?”
He was silent on the other end.
“Hello? Oh, I see. It’s probably my fault she’s dead too.”
“I didn’t say that. Why don’t you wait for Doug to do the autopsy before you jump to any conclusions? And I was just thinking that if Patti was murdered, and it’s somehow connected to the other homicides, then whoever killed her was at the Hole last night when you were.”
More good news. She was probably being watched by the killer last night, and her biggest concern had been trying to one-up Kellie Leblanc.
“I’m on my way,” she told Shep.
Shep was waiting outside the station. Ryan attempted to distance herself from him. He didn’t seem to notice, and grabbed her in a hug the second she walked up.
Inside, Shep led her to the SID office and patted the chair next to his desk. He handed her a computer printout as soon as she sat down. “These are the calls that were made to your house over the last two weeks. I highlighted the calls that came in on the days of the homicides. The same number shows up on all of those nights. It traced back to a prepaid cell phone that was logged into evidence at criminal court. The case was assigned to McAllister’s section, just like the crack we found at Dalton’s.” He pulled out a second printout.
“This is a list of all of the people that had access to the cell phone when it was in evidence. I was getting ready to cross-reference this with the list of people who had access to the crack, when I got the information that the gun used to kill LaJohnnie was also part of a case in McAllister’s section. So I got a list of everybody who had access to the gun, and cross-referenced it with the list of people who had access to the crack and the cell phone. The list has gotten substantially shorter.”
He held up a shorter print out of names. “There are two property room clerks, two defense attorneys and five assistant district attorneys who had access to all of the evidence.” He handed her the list.
Ryan frowned. “Why would he leave a gun he got from the evidence room on LaJohnnie? He has to know the evidence can be traced back.”
“He’s leaving clues so you can try to figure out who he is. He knows how many people are going to be suspects, and how long it’s going to take to eliminate the wrong ones. He probably figures he can do whatever he’s planning on doing before we’re able to pin down his identity.”
Ryan read the names to herself. “So he’s planning something soon. This list isn’t that long.” She didn’t recognize the names of the property room clerks, but she knew the two defense attorneys, as well as the five prosecutors. “And you really think somebody on this list might be a killer? I just can’t see it.” She saw these people every day, and as far as she knew, they all liked her. With the exception of Kellie. But as much as she didn’t like the other woman, she didn’t think Kellie would waste her time killing people to get back at Ryan for some catty feud.
“I’d say it would almost have to be one of them,” Shep said. “Or at the very least one of them is an accomplice.”
She finally put the list down on his desk, having difficulty believing that one of the people on it hated her enough to kill other people just to ruin her life. “What do you think about Chad being released from OPP yesterday on an ROR? He was out by the time the booking forms were completed. Do you think he had enough time to get processed, find LaJohnnie, and kill her before her mother got home?”
“Yeah, I do. But that doesn’t mean Chad killed her. He could have paid somebody else to do it.”
“I asked Bo about Chad. They grew up together. He said Chad used to do things like set cats on fire when they were younger. But Bo didn’t think Chad would be smart enough to pull off something like this.”
“You were talking about this with Lambert?”
“He’s known Chad since they were little. He’s probably got a better handle on Chad than I ever could.”
Shep tapped the list with his finger. “Lambert’s name is on this list, Ryan. He’s one of the few people who had access to the evidence.”
“So is Edie. And Harry Stelly. And Big Mike. That doesn’t mean I can’t talk to them. And personally, I think Bo is too big a coward to be behind a bunch of murders. You think I’m a rule follower? You should see him. He won’t even park illegally in front of the courthouse.” And then she added, “And let’s not forget about Kellie. Maybe you should investigate her. She certainly hates me enough.”
“We’re going to check everybody on the list.”
“Speaking of Kellie, she said something interesting,” Ryan began slowly, refusing to look directly at Shep. “She said the only reason you were spending so much time with me was because daddy ordered you to, and that when he gets back in town, you’re going back to Wanda.”
Shep didn’t respond, and looked as if he was thinking of the right way to answer.
“Did you really tell Wanda that?” Ryan stood up and grabbed her purse.
“Ryan, yeah, I told her that, but it’s not how it sounds.”
“Good, because it sounds like the reason you didn’t want to be with me last night is really because you didn’t want to cheat on Wanda. If you want her, you can have her.” She jerked her arm away. “Just don’t lie to me to suck up to daddy. I felt stupid enough when I thought Espinito was doing it. I certainly don’t appreciate you doing it right now.”
“Baby, will you please let me explain?” He tried to grab for her again.
She moved out of his reach. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I can fill in the blanks myself.” She started out of the door. “And don’t call me baby.” His not wanting to have sex with her was explained, at least. There was nothing wrong with her. He just had a real girlfriend he was sacrificing to get ass-kissing points from the captain.
He ran behind her, catching her hand in his, ignoring the looks from the other officers in the hallway.
“I’m going out front to smoke. Just leave me alone for a minute.” She tried to walk away, but he wouldn’t let go of her hand.
“Will you let me explain when you come back?”
She shrugged. “Just let go of me.” She finally pulled her hand out of his grasp and blinked back tears as she left the SID office and walked down the hallway to the lobby area. She could feel him watching behind her, but he didn’t try to stop her again.
Ryan lit a cigarette and sat on the stoop outside at the bottom of the steps, thinking about how crappy her life had become. What did she expect? She had been right. Guys like Shep weren’t interested in girls like her.
She wondered if she should get in her Jeep and drive off. But Shep would probably just follow her. Maybe he did have an explanation. Maybe he did
n’t have the guts to break it off with Wanda. Or maybe he really wanted to keep stringing them both along. It didn’t matter to her at this point. What Shep had told Wanda hurt, and made Ryan look, and feel, pathetic and stupid. She had felt that way with Chad. She had never imagined she would end up feeling that way with Shep.
She finished the cigarette and walked to the corner, not wanting to go back into the station until she knew what she was going to say. She was relieved when her cell phone rang, thankful for the diversion.
“Miss Ryan, this is Devon,” an excited voice said. “I know you at the police station. I seen you on the corner. I’m three houses down, same side of the street. I was coming in when I seen the cop that was in the project that night. I ducked into the bushes. If the cop sees me, he gonna shoot me. Nobody gonna do me nothing if you with me.”
“I’m walking right now,” she said, glancing behind her. Shep was still in the doorway, but no longer watching her, apparently talking to someone behind him. Ryan quickly made the corner and started down the street.
Devon was going to come in, he was going to look at photo lineups and he was going to pick out the cop he saw in the St. Thomas. When the cop was arrested, he would give up whoever was responsible, whether it was Chad or not, as well as anyone else who was involved. Prison was even more difficult for police officers than it was for regular criminals, and the only way to ensure isolation from the general population would be for the cop to roll over. And then, Ryan would get her life back.
A black Mercedes was parked, trunk open, in front of the third house from the corner. In her peripheral vision, she saw a shadow emerge from the front seat.
“You didn’t think I’d find you, did you, bitch?” Durrell Wilson jumped in front of her, the diamond chip in his tooth catching the sun’s rays as he smiled. “How you like me now?” He grabbed her by the hair and shoved her, face-down, over the hood of the car. She froze, not quite believing what was happening, until he started pulling at her jean shorts, trying to get them down.
She clawed at his hands with little effect. His grip finally loosened when she brought her foot up and kicked it back as hard as she could, making contact with his shin. Before she could escape his grasp, unseen hands forced a sack over her head from behind, and dragged her toward the back of the car. She felt cold steel pressing against her temple through the cloth.
“Make a sound and I’ll blow your head off,” a voice said in a barely audible whisper, and Ryan felt herself falling, the back of her knees catching onto metal as she landed in the trunk of the car.
She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The hands grabbed her frozen legs and forced them into the trunk.
The same voice hissed, “See you in hell, Wilson.”
Durrell Wilson’s voice rang out. “What you doing, man?”
And then a gun shot rang out, followed by a second of silence as a body landed on top of her. Ryan struggled frantically until she wiggled from underneath him. She heard the sound of two more gunshots close to her ear, and then the unmistakable sound of a car trunk slamming.
The car began moving. Somebody must have seen what just happened, or at least have heard the gunshots. It was broad daylight, and they were right next door to a police station, for Christ’s sake. Why wasn’t anyone coming after her?
Wilson’s body convulsed next to her, and then stopped moving altogether. Ryan pulled the cloth off of her head, but it was too dark to see inside the trunk. The body brushed up against her with every turn of the car, covering her with the Durrell Wilson’s bodily fluids. She fought the urge to vomit.
She heard a squawk, like a police radio. Why would he have a police radio in the trunk of his car? And why would he have left it for her?
She tried to remain calm. If this lunatic was going to kill her, he probably would have shot her when he shot Wilson. Unless, of course, he wanted to torture her first.
The trunk was oppressively hot. She wondered how much oxygen a car trunk held, or if she could suffocate before somebody found her. If somebody found her. The car had been driving for a few minutes already. She didn’t know where she was, or how far from the station they had traveled.
Then she realized she still had her cell phone, and grabbed it from her pocket. The car hit a bump and she dropped the phone. She reached on the bottom of the trunk, her hand sliding around in something lumpy and wet. The trunk smelled of urine and feces, and she knew Durrell Wilson was definitely dead.
She managed to find the phone and hit number one on the speed dial, the station house.
“Sixth District.”
“This is Ryan Murphy. Somebody grabbed me and threw me in the trunk of a car.”
“Here’s Detective Chapetti.
A second later, “Ryan, are you hurt?”
“No, but I’m in the trunk of his car. I don’t know where I am and I think I’m running out of air.” She tried to control the hysteria in her voice.
Shep’s voice was calm. “There’s plenty of oxygen in the trunk. Don’t panic, you can’t suffocate. Do you know where you are?”
“No, he’s been driving around.”
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see him.”
“Did you see the car?”
“No.” She began to take big gulps of air. “I did, but I didn’t really look at it. It’s dark, black I think. A Mercedes.” She could hardly breathe. Shep had lied. She was almost out of oxygen.
She heard the squawking again. “I think there’s a police radio or something back here.”
“See if you can find it. We can find your location if it’s an NOPD radio. Baby, keep breathing. You’re going to be okay, just breathe.”
She felt on the floor until she found a two-way radio. She hit the button. “Somebody help me,” she said into the radio. She released the button.
A second later a distorted voice responded through the speaker, “Nobody’s going to help you, princess. Tell your boyfriend you’re in safe hands now.” The car began picking up speed.
“I don’t think it’s a police radio,” Ryan said into the cell phone. “And he’s driving faster. What should I do?”
“Stay on the phone,” Shep ordered. “We’re trying to track your cell phone.”
The car screeched to an abrupt stop, and the cell phone flew from Ryan’s hands again, hitting the bottom of the trunk with a clank. She frantically grasped for it, but the car started moving again. She could hear the phone sliding from one side of the trunk to the other as the car made a sharp turn.
The radio barked in her hand, the same electronically distorted voice. “Ryan, if you can guess who I am, I’ll let you live. For a while, anyway.”
“Why are you doing this?” Ryan asked into the walkie-talkie.
“Justice.” There was a pause. “You don’t remember me. Here’s a clue. My name is Jacob.” The car started slowing down. He had been driving for no more than ten minutes, and she wished she would have paid more attention to the route he had driven. If she had, she might know where they were ending up, and might have had a better chance of escaping. The car slowed to a crawl. He would be stopping soon. And when he did, he would kill her.
Ryan suddenly realized that her purse was still on her shoulder, and inside it, her gun. She scrambled in the purse for her gun, wondering if she would get a chance to take a shot before he killed her.
The car stopped. Ryan’s heart beat so fast her chest hurt. When the trunk opened, she would just shoot, and hope she didn’t miss.
But what if he wasn’t the one that opened the trunk? What if he grabbed some unsuspecting stranger at gunpoint, knowing Ryan would shoot once the trunk was open?
She waited, pointing her gun. She would have to make sure it was him before she shot. But then, how would she know it was him? What if she thought it was an unsuspecting stranger and she didn’t shoot, and it was really the maniac? She was going to lose her mind if the trunk didn’t open soon.
Nothing happened. What was he do
ing? Was he standing outside the trunk? If he shot through the trunk, she wouldn’t have a chance. But doing that would be risky. Somebody might see him. Of course, he hadn’t worried about the risk when he shoved Ryan into the trunk, or when he shot Durrell Wilson.
She started to feel more nauseated, the smell of blood and bodily fluids overwhelming her. She bit back the taste of bile. The heat in the car was stifling, and she prayed she wouldn’t vomit in the hot, confining space.
Still nothing happened. Why was he waiting? Was he trying to get her to let her guard down?
She didn’t know how long she had been stopped like this, stuck in the trunk, beginning to feel weak from the heat, when she heard voices. Was it him? And if so, who was with him?
Then the voices were closer.
“Police,” a voice yelled. “Get out and step away from the car.”
Ryan’s adrenaline started pumping. Was it a trap? Or was she being saved?
She felt someone moving around inside the front of the car. She aimed the gun, although she wasn’t sure at what.
“Nobody here,” she heard a man yell.
She recognized Spence’s voice. She dropped her gun and began kicking on the inside of the trunk, screaming for help as loud as she could. The trunk finally popped open and Spence stood on the other side. He quickly holstered his gun and grabbed her from the trunk.
“EMS is on the way. Ryan, you’re going to be okay.”
“I’m not hurt,” she said, confused. And then she realized she was covered with Durrell Wilson’s blood. “You can put me down. This blood isn’t mine.”
Spence set her down on the ground, steadying her as her wobbly legs collapsed. The sun was so bright it took her eyes a second to adjust to the light. She looked around and found herself surrounded by the boarded buildings of the St. Thomas Housing Development.
Sirens screamed in the distance. Ryan’s thumb automatically went to her mouth. When she saw the fleshy gray and pink chunks covering her hand, she pulled away from Spence and then vomited on the ground. A minute later, Shep pulled up, jumped out of his car and grabbed her in his arms.
Gumbo Justice Page 19
