Jake shook his head at the detective. Did he think he wasn’t transparent in his feelings for the female cop? If Jake weren’t so damn tired, he’d pay him back for all of his crude comments regarding Violet. "Hand me that file with the notes." Turner lifted the requested folder and passed it to Jake. He flipped it open and reread the poems in chronological order.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
My love for her
Will always be true
I’m just getting started
So here’s your first clue
It’s not Denise I crave
Do you know who?
Simple. Straightforward. However, knowing Violet was the "her" in the poem made his gut clench. He scanned the second one.
Roses are blue
Violets are red
In case you are wondering
Ella is truly dead
Her end came swiftly
Oh how she bled
Her death's a riddle
Have you discovered the thread?
A chilling reminder that these women died because of one man’s obsession. He moved to the third note.
Roses are red
Darling Violet tried
She almost caught me
But Rayann still died
Time's running out
Keep your eyes open wide
For this I will tell
My love won’t be denied
This one bothered him the most, knowing Violet had been so close to danger. If she had walked in during the kill, she might be dead as well. Forcing that thought aside, he flipped to the fourth note.
Roses are red
Violets smell sweet
Sonia’s not so lucky
But you are in for a treat
Four girls are now dead
I’m turning up the heat
How many more will die
Before my mission’s complete?
They had to stop the maniac before he could complete his mission, whatever the hell it was. He lifted the fifth poem.
Roses are red
Violet’s divine
And soon, very soon
She will be all mine
Have you figured it out?
Do you need a sign?
How about a hint
Our lives intertwine
This was the first time the killer let it slip that it was actually Violet he obsessed with. He read the last one.
Roses are red
Violet is great
I’ll have her soon
And I can’t wait
Are you getting closer?
Can you change fate?
Here’s one last clue
The number eight
In this one, he let them know one more girl was in jeopardy before he went after Violet.
"So Lewis Park was a former student?"
Jake mentally switched gears from the notes to Turner’s question. "She gave him a low grade and he threatened her. He tried intimidating other teachers before, so he was on probation. He was kicked out after she reported him. She also thought he might have a drug problem."
"What’s the story with Kinney?"
"He’s Violet’s ex-stepfather."
Turner whistled. "What put him in the Pen?"
"She was exhausted and frightened after learning the killer might be targeting her. I didn’t get the story out of her yet, just that Kinney was recently paroled for good behavior."
"Damn," Turner muttered. "The other similar unresolved case happened in Mississippi."
"I thought about that, too. It points another finger at Kinney."
Milt Baker stuck his head in the conference room door. "We’ve got Timms. He’s in the Tank," he said, using the nickname the officers gave the interrogation room.
Jake leaped to his feet. "Let’s go."
#
Jake paced impatiently behind the one-way mirror. Turner flat refused to let him question Timms. He could’ve insisted, but he knew Turner was right. If he managed to keep his hands off the weasel—and that was a big if—they figured he wouldn’t open up to the man Violet was involved with. Instead, he'd briefed Turner and Vic Hammond on the events that occurred the night Timms attacked Violet.
Maya Demaree slipped inside and stood next to Jake.
"Did you find anything on Kinney?" he asked without looking away from Timms.
He could see her reflection in the window as she shook her head. "Definitely MIA. He failed to check in with his parole officer two weeks ago, hasn’t shown up for his job and his apartment is empty. There’s an APB out."
Jake shoved a hand through his hair. Two weeks was plenty of time to travel to Vermont and commit multiple murder.
Turner’s voice piped in through the overhead speakers. "Am I mistaken or do you have something to tell us about a certain set of missing keys?"
Timms’ eyes widened. "That’s what this is about." He laughed nervously. "Yes, I meant to do that…tell you that is." He cleared his throat. "I was playing a practical joke, you know guy to guy." He smiled and glanced from Turner to Hammond. Neither man smiled back and his fell. "I meant to give the keys back, I did, but I got busy and forgot."
"You nearly cost a man his job," Hammond growled.
"I meant nothing by it. Honest. I figured he would think it was funny, you know, since it happened before." He laughed. No one else did.
"We met before, didn’t we? The night Ms. Rodriguez was murdered." Turner’s tone was casual, friendly. The good cop.
Timms shook his head. "It’s possible, I don’t really remember. There were so many cops there that night."
"There were," Hammond agreed. "Mind telling us how you came to be at a crime scene shortly after the victim was killed?" His voice was gruff, intimidating, the epitome of bad cop.
"A friend called me, Chris Stark. She drove by and saw Violet’s Jeep and all the police cars. She was worried."
"So you just jump in your car, motor on over and charge into an active crime scene," Hammond said dubiously.
"Violet is my friend, a good friend. And my office is there," he tacked on.
"So you wanted to support your friend…your good friend," Turner repeated. He nodded, as if accepting the answer. "Can you tell me where you were four nights ago on the eve of January fourteenth. Oh, and that would be after you physically attacked your," he made air quotes, "good friend, Ms. Anastasia." His easy tone belied the implication of his question.
Timms surged to his feet. "I didn’t attack her." A strip of tape held one arm on his glasses and his Harry Potter hair stood at odd angles. "It was a misunderstanding," he insisted. "I read her signals wrong."
"Sure you did, now sit down," Hammond barked. Timms dropped to his chair. "So you stopped as soon as she said no?"
"Of course." His gaze shifted to the table.
"How’d you break your glasses," Turner asked as if talking to a friend. He twirled a toothpick in his mouth, the picture of laid-back.
"I knocked them off and stepped on them," Timms hedged.
Turner nodded, pretending to accept that answer. He strolled behind Timms and then clutched his head.
"Hey!" Timms protested.
"That’s an awful mean-looking knot on the back of your noggin. Wanna tell me how you got it?" Turner released him with a little shove and leaned a hip against the table.
Again, Timms failed to make eye contact. "I was looking for something under the sink. I came up too quickly and," he smacked his hands together, "bang."
A long silence. Finally Timms looked up.
"Now tell me the truth."
The soft-spoken sentence seemed to open the floodgates. Timms started babbling about how much he cared for Violet and didn’t mean to hurt her. Tears were flowing like a waterfall and Jake turned his back in disgust.
"Wuss," Maya muttered, her arms crossed over her chest. "Want me to go in and kick his sorry ass?"
For the first time that night, Jake laughed.
"I�
��m serious," she insisted, her lips twitching. "I could take him."
Jake threw an arm over her shoulder. "I have no doubt about that."
Turner chose that moment to enter the room. His eyes narrowed dangerously and Jake almost laughed again. He withdrew his arm. "Officer Demaree thinks she can take our suspect."
Turner stared at them a moment and must have decided the gesture had been as innocent as Jake intended. He nodded. "I think she can, too."
They all watched Timms deflate before their eyes. Hammond eyed the mirror where he knew they would be standing and shook his head in disgust. Timms was openly wailing now.
"We can only hold him for a few hours without solid evidence," Turner sighed.
"How about attempted rape?"
"That’d work," Turner agreed, "if Violet presses charges."
"Hell," Jake muttered. "She won’t. She almost didn’t tell me about the incident."
"He’d bail out by morning," Maya sighed.
"We’ll just have to keep an eye on him," Turner said.
#
How could the best night of Violet’s life turn so quickly into the worst?
She eyed the ebony-skinned, stone-faced cop standing guard. Officer Grim she had named him, though she knew it was actually Graham. "I’m going to get some rest," she informed him. She wasn’t sure, but she thought he grunted.
Trudging upstairs, she pushed open the door to her bedroom. Zeus patiently waited for her return, having to be locked up from the strange men entering and leaving the house.
She was essentially a prisoner in her own home. In the morning, she'd have to call the interim Dean and ask for a leave of absence. Dean Glasgo had told her to take time off if she needed. Well, she needed. The police wouldn’t let her continue teaching until the killer was caught. She wasn’t allowed out of the house without a bodyguard.
It was bad enough when they realized the killer knew her. Theoretically, she should know him as well, but she didn’t think anyone she knew would do something this gruesome except Willie Jack. Her mom told her last week she hadn't spoken with him but Loretta could have easily lied…and that looked like a real possibility since she was missing, too.
All this happened when she was getting her life on track. She had a job she loved, her own home, friends. The only good thing about this whole ordeal was the opportunity to know Jake Kincaid, for however long. She knew it was better to have loved and lost and all that, but she would be devastated when she lost him. When he left, he would take her heart with him.
Her phone rang. Hoping it was him, she answered. "Hello?"
"How could you do this to me, Violet?"
"Todd?"
"They think I did it. They think I’m the killer. Some reporter just broadcast to the world that I’m a suspect. Me! My life is ruined!"
"Todd, calm down."
"I will not calm down, you little whore. You’ve destroyed my life. All I ever did to you was love you and you ruined me."
"Todd, I didn’t mean—"
The line went dead.
Violet stared at the receiver. She tried to feel bad but she couldn’t. Todd attacked and threatened her, plain and simple. He couldn’t turn this on her. She refused to fall into the role of bad guy. Replacing the phone in the cradle, she picked up the remote and clicked on the local news. Sure enough, as Olivia Larrson reported on the latest murder, Todd’s picture appeared on the screen. A twinge of guilt tried to snake its way into her heart but she ruthlessly tamped it down.
Clicking off the TV, she settled under the covers and drifted into a fitful sleep, waking up with a start. Every noise, every sound caused her heart to pound, her mind to race with horrifying possibilities. She had just fallen back to sleep when a noise jerked her awake. A tall, dark shape lurked in the dark. Why wasn’t Zeus barking? She reached for the kitchen knife she brought with her and scooted to the headboard. She lifted the cleaver over her head as the shape moved closer, silhouetted against the dim moonlight streaming in between the closed curtain. She recognized that shape.
Before she could lower the knife, Jake flipped on the light. "Jesus, Violet, put that thing down."
Lowering the blade she pressed a hand to her chest. "You scared me."
"I was trying to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake you."
"Well, next time, wake me," she said indignantly.
"I’m sorry, babe. I really didn’t want to disturb you. How are you holding up?" He stripped down to his boxer-briefs. He could model those things, she thought. She tugged the covers back so he could crawl into bed. She held out her arms and he drew her to him, kissing her tenderly. Violet curled up next to his strong body, her head pillowed on his shoulder.
Now that Jake was back, she felt safe and secure. She couldn’t stifle a yawn. "I’m fine, now that you are here." The last word ended on a sigh as she fell into a deep slumber.
CHAPTER 22
January 19
"Perez, open up. It’s Jake Kincaid. I know you're in there." Flakes of white paint drifted to the porch as he pounded on the door. Turner stood to the side with a hand on his gun. Two uniforms waited at the bottom of the steps.
Jake banged again. "You have three seconds to open this door or we're coming in after you. One. Two." He nodded to Turner and they withdrew their weapons. "Three." With a powerful strike of his shoe, Jake kicked in the door. He and Turner scanned the area, revolvers poised in front of their bodies.
Jake scanned the kitchen. "Clear," he called out. "Perez. We know you are here. We found your car parked around back."
"Nice touch throwing a tarp over it," Turner remarked. "But really, there isn’t much the weather can do to it that age hasn’t already." They opened doors and checked every potential hiding place.
Jake motioned for Turner. He put his finger to his lips and pointed to the futon. Whimpers drifted from behind the padded daybed. Jake mouthed one, two, three.
"Freeze," they yelled in unison as Jake flipped the cushion aside. Carlos lay tucked behind, curled into the fetal position. He clutched a rosary, his lips moving in prayer.
"Read him his rights, Davis," Nick ordered to the uniformed officer as he hauled Carlos to his feet.
"No, please. There is mistake. Carlos do nothing." He gripped Jake’s arm. "Please, señor, do not take me to jail. I no go back."
"Where were you last night, around ten? An eyewitness spotted you at Ms. Anastasia’s house in the early hours of the morning." No need to tell Carlos that he was the eyewitness.
"I was here, but I see live report on TV. I worry about Ms. Violet. I try to call but de phone, it no go through." Jake noticed his English deteriorated when he was nervous. "I drive by her house and see all de police. I fear something terrible happen but I see Violet open the door for a policeman. I afraid to go near with so many around so I come home."
"We are going to have to take you in for questioning."
"Am I arrested?"
Jake glanced at Turner and he shrugged slightly, reading the situation the same as Jake. Neither believed this man guilty of the heinous crimes. Jake waved off the officer posed to read the Miranda and handcuff Carlos.
"I’ll withhold arresting you until after you answer a few questions. But we need to take you to the station."
Carlos nodded, resigned to the procedure. They watched as the two uniforms led him to their car. "I understand what you mean. I’m having a hell of a hard time believing that little guy is a cold-blooded killer."
"Tell me about it," Jake grumbled. "If I hadn’t seen him with my own eyes last night, I wouldn’t believe him capable. Hell, even after seeing him, I still don't like him for the murders."
Two hours later, they were no closer to finding answers. Jake tried to force coffee down Perez’s throat but his hands shook so much, Jake was afraid he would burn himself. Finally he slugged Turner in the shoulder with the back of his hand and mouthed, "Follow me." The two men went to watch through the one-way mirror. Perez sat with his arms wrapped around his body, his lips m
oving in prayer.
"What do you think now?" Turner kept his eyes glued to the suspect as he posed the question.
Jake ran both hands through his hair. "God help me, I believe him. I truly think he was worried about Violet."
Turner slowly bobbed his head. "Me too." Perez crossed himself several times and started the rosary again.
Jake heaved a heavy sigh. "We’re wasting our time."
Carlos was released but ordered to stay in the area. The two men returned to the task force meeting room.
"I spoke with your contact at the Bureau, Jake, and I have information on William Jake Kinney," Maya said when she saw them approach. "He was released from prison twenty five days ago. The guard on duty said he was escorted out by a Loretta Franklin. Kinney was the second husband to the oft-married but currently single Ms. Franklin." Her gaze pinned Jake. "Her first husband was a man named Mike Anastasia."
Jake’s mouth dropped open.
"Violet’s mother," she confirmed.
"Shit." He rubbed his temple. "Have you spoken with her?"
"That’s just the thing," Maya said. "We can’t locate Ms. Franklin either. According to her hairdresser, who was the last person to see her, Ms. Franklin bragged about letting Kinney stay at her house after he was released. Seeing as she is currently unattached, as she put it, she slaked all his pent-up animal lust. I guess twenty years with no conjugal visits really takes a toll."
Turner threw up a hand. "Too much information on the sex life of a potential serial killer."
"You think that’s bad? You should have heard the woman describe what Ms. Franklin told her. I toned it down for you. I can’t believe the woman could possibly be Violet’s mother."
"I don’t think she has been for a very long time," Jake murmured.
"Anyway, apparently mother-of-the-year Franklin collects diamond rings from all her ex’s, keeping them in a safe-deposit box. The bank wouldn’t confirm or deny what was taken, but they did say she signed in to view her box. She was not accompanied by anyone else and did not appear to be under duress."
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