by Mary Burton
“I’m not afraid.” How could he see her fear? She’d buried it deep below the surface.
He held her gaze in the reflection. “It will be fine.”
The door on the other side of the glass opened. The movement made Angie flinch. She recovered quickly and folded her hands in her lap.
In the next instant Louise Cross entered the interview cell. She wore an oversized orange jumpsuit. Her gray curly hair hung wild and untamed around her face. Louise Cross might be an unfeeling monster, but the added lines around her eyes and mouth proved that prison had taken a toll on her.
Louise’s eyes, dark as a bottomless pit, flickered and sparked to life when she saw Angie. Through her narrowed gaze, she studied Angie for long, tense seconds before taking a seat and lifting the phone to her ear.
Angie raised the phone and glimpsed the reflection of Kier doing the same. “Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Cross.”
The woman brightened, clearly savoring Angie’s respectful tone. Sociopaths believed they were the center of the universe and expected others to believe the same. Likely, Louise hadn’t got much kid-glove treatment since she’d arrived here.
“This is a surprise, Miss Carlson.” Louise’s voice telegraphed delight. “Have you come about your sister?”
“I was hoping you could help me with background on an old murder.”
“An old murder? That is intriguing.” Louise grabbed a tendril of gray hair and twisted it between her fingertips. “Who?”
“Fay Willow. She worked for my father at the Talbot Museum.”
Louise nodded. “I remember Fay from my days on the museum board. She was a lovely young girl. She was having an affair with my husband. Darius enjoyed his lovely young girls.”
“Darius was sleeping with Fay?”
“You didn’t know?”
“I suspected but wasn’t sure.”
“Rest assured, Darius was sleeping with her.”
Angie studied Louise’s face closely. “Fay was murdered.”
“Yes. It took a while to identify her, as I remember. Reduced to bones.” Louise smiled as if she’d just remembered a private joke.
Angie eased forward on her seat a fraction. “Do you know who killed her?”
Louise sat back in her chair, her shoulders relaxed. She liked playing games, especially when she had the upper hand. “If I talk, I want him to leave.” Louise’s gaze remained on Angie.
In the glass’s reflection she saw Kier shift his stance as if bracing for a fight. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Angie, like Kier, understood power plays. And it was important to establish which person really was in charge of the interview. “Kier stays.”
Louise smiled. “He leaves. Or I don’t talk.”
Angie shrugged. “Then don’t talk.” She hung up her phone, rose, and turned. Her posture was rigid just as it was when she faced a jury or judge.
Kier hung up his phone, no trace of dispute in his expression.
Angie crossed the small room in a handful of strides and wrapped long fingers around the door handle. She was betting Louise was starved for information and would compromise to get it.
A rap on the glass had Angie hesitating and smiling. Another more forceful rap had her losing the smile and turning.
Louise motioned for her to pick up her phone.
Kier’s face remained turned from the viewing window as he whispered, “Bingo.”
In no real rush Angie moved back to the phone. She picked up the receiver but did not sit down. Kier raised his receiver to his ear.
“He can stay,” Louise said. “But he doesn’t ask the questions.”
“It’s my interview,” Angie said. “Not his.”
“Okay. I’ll chat with you about Fay, but first I want to know how Eva is doing.”
Louise went right for Angie’s weakest spot, a favorite courtroom tactic of her own. However, recognizing Louise’s tactic didn’t diminish the stab of apprehension. Louise Cross had developed a fan following since her arrest, and Angie didn’t want to expose her sister to any danger.
“She’s doing well, Mrs. Cross.”
Dark eyes glistened. “Does she talk about me often?”
Angie understood how this game was played. Give Louise a little of what she wanted, and maybe she’d get what she needed. “She mentioned you the other day.”
Louise leaned toward the glass a fraction. “What did she say about me?”
“She admires your intelligence.” That wasn’t untrue. But Angie had carefully omitted Eva’s utter disgust for the brutal woman who’d slaughtered women and branded Eva.
“She admires my brains.” Louise sounded pleased. “That’s saying a lot. She’s a genius.”
“Tell me about Fay,” Angie said.
“I want to hear more about Eva.”
“Not yet.”
Louise narrowed her gaze as if she was clearly wondering how much she could push. “Fay Willow worked for your father for two years. I saw her from time to time when I sat on the board.”
“Who do you think might have killed her?”
Louise laughed. “You mean you can’t figure that one out?”
Angie said nothing, just stared at Louise.
Louise ran gnarled hands through her coarse gray hair. “Darius killed her.”
“You know that for certain?”
“Oh, I can’t prove it. But I know. Fay had dreams of being the next Mrs. Cross. I heard them arguing once. Darius of course was not going to let a little whore dictate what he did or did not do. No matter what she did for him in or out of bed.” She smiled. “And I was in Europe with the boys when she died. So you won’t be able to pin that one on me.”
“As you said, her bones were stripped. Someone must have been helping Darius. He didn’t dirty his hands.”
Louise shook her head. “Is Eva still dating Garrison?”
Angie hesitated. “They broke up six months ago.”
The lies tripped off her tongue without effort or hesitation. She sensed Kier’s gaze and could almost hear him reminding her that Louise couldn’t be trusted.
Louise nodded. “I didn’t think they’d make it. There is too much darkness in her. She’s a lot like her father.”
Angie swallowed her rebut. “You knew Blue Rayburn?”
“Sure. Is Eva still in school?”
“Yes.”
Louise twisted a strand of hair between her fingers. “She should be graduating soon.”
“Blue was head of security for my father at the museum.”
“Head of security. Is that what your father told you?” Amusement sparked. “Make no mistake, my dear girl, Blue worked for Darius, not your father.”
“Darius? No, he worked for my father.”
“Darius called the shots from the moment he gave your father that big fat donation check.”
Hadn’t Eva said that Darius always had a hidden agenda? “What did Darius have to do with the museum?”
Louise shook her head. “My turn. Does Eva still have the scar?”
Frustration mingled with fury. “Yes.”
“She’ll always remember me.”
Bitch. “What interest did Blue and Darius have in the museum?”
Louise leaned forward, pleasure deepening the lines on her face. “I’ll tell Eva. Have her come and ask me.”
“Eva is not coming here.”
“Why? I only want to talk.” She raised her hands, the shackles dangling and clanking together. “I can’t hurt anyone.”
“Tell me what Blue and Darius’s connection was to the museum, and I’ll talk to Eva about writing you a letter.”
“I want the letter first.”
“No.”
Louise moistened her lips. For long, tense seconds she didn’t answer, and then: “Darius said once he’d strip Fay of all her humanity if she ever went up against him.”
And then it hit Angie. “They stripped her bones using the museum’s facility.”
“Not they, my
dear—your father. Frank Carlson stripped the flesh from Fay’s bones, just as he stripped the flesh from the animals in his museum.”
“My father wouldn’t do that.”
“Of course he would. He loved you. Knowing Darius, my husband promised to do awful things to you if your father didn’t play along.”
All the years her father had pushed her away and kept her from the museum … he had been protecting her.
“Why not just bury her?”
“Darius wanted a memento of his time with Fay. My guess is that he saved one of the bones. Human bone can look like ivory when it’s carved and polished.”
Angie thought about the walking stick that Darius had always carried. It had been crowned with an ivory figurine. Oh, God. “Blue was involved as well?”
“Like I said, Blue did a lot of things for Darius. Taking care of Fay was just one job of many.” Louise picked at the chains linking her arms.
“There was another recent killing. Bones stripped like Fay’s were found.”
“Interesting. I didn’t think Fay’s death was of real interest to you. You’re here to solve that case.”
“Yes.”
“Now that is a puzzle. Who would want to kill this woman and then strip the flesh from her bones as your father once did for Darius? No one on my side could have done it. Josiah is dead, and Micah is too weak to kill a fly, let alone a woman. Maybe it was you.”
“What?”
“Maybe you killed the woman, and maybe you’re here to keep the good detective guessing.”
When Angie didn’t react to the bait, Louise added, “It broke your father’s heart when your mother left him.”
In that moment she didn’t have the strength to stand and walk away.
“But Blue Rayburn was a hard man to resist. And Marian wanted so much more excitement than her dull little life offered. Blue was hard competition for a man who loved his books and specimens.” Louise licked her lips. “But to be fair to your mother, I can see a woman leaving her husband for Blue. God knows I wanted to leave Darius at times, and Blue would have been the man to tempt me.”
Angie said nothing, not really trusting her voice now.
“But to leave you, her child,” Louise said. “Now, that is a different kind of woman altogether. I never would have willingly left my boys. But I guess you were just too much of a reminder of Marian’s lackluster marriage.”
Angie hesitated. “You misjudge my mother.”
“I remember seeing you at museum functions when you were two or three. You were a happy child. Later, after the divorce, you were quite sullen.”
The sharp edge of Louise’s words sliced through her strength. All she wanted to do was run from this room. “Fay also had a boyfriend, other than Darius. What was his name?”
“I don’t know. Let your detective friend figure that one out. Get me a letter from Eva and maybe I might remember more. Like what Darius and Blue were really doing at the museum.”
Angie had reached the end of the interview. Louise had given all she was going to until she received communication from Eva.
Angie would not beg or plead with Louise Cross, nor would she ever involve Eva. She could only hope this visit had piqued the old woman’s interest so that she could return and ask more questions. “Thank you, Mrs. Cross, for your time.”
She set the phone down. When she faced Kier, she could see the anger brewing below the stony surface. She walked stiffly toward the door.
A rap on the glass had Angie turning. Louise stood at the glass, laughing so hard that tears ran down her cheeks.
Angie could barely breathe as she hurried toward the security checkpoint. She wanted to get the hell out of this prison. Her hands trembled as she collected her purse from the guards and moved back through the scanner.
Kier was on her heels, shoving his gun in its holster and collecting his badge. He caught up to her but said nothing as they walked outside. The morning sun had warmed, and she tipped her head back to absorb the heat and energy.
“Do you remember the cane Darius used?” Angie asked.
“He was before my time.”
“It’s a piece of Fay.”
“We don’t know that.”
A shiver burned through her limbs. “We locked gazes during the trial. He raised the head of that cane at me during Eva’s trial.” She smoothed her hand over her hair. “I can’t believe my father would have helped Darius hide a murder.”
“I don’t completely trust anything she said.”
She shoved out a sigh. “I hope you’re right.”
“What else do you remember about Darius?”
“He liked ivory. He had cuff links. A tie clip. I remember them all from Eva’s trial years ago. Dear God.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Louise is a master at jabbing old wounds,” Kier said.
“I knew that going into the interview.” A breeze blew across the parking lot, teasing wisps of hair that had escaped her bun.
“Knowing and feeling are two different things.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m a big girl, and I can take it.” She checked her watch, wishing she could teleport back to Alexandria and put this whole scene behind her. “What’s your driving record for the trip north?”
“One hour forty-five.”
“Let’s see if you can break it.”
When Connor Donovan’s contact in the prison had told him Angie had scheduled a last-minute visit with Louise Cross, his interest had been stirred. He’d watched as Kier had picked her up at her house and quickly merged on I-95 South. He’d been unable to match Kier’s pace, but knowing where they were going had allowed him to hold back.
Now as he sat in his car, parked across from the women’s detention facility, and watched them leave, he wondered why she’d bothered to visit.
The Sorority House Murders were closed. And Kier’s most active investigation was Sierra Day, a woman who likely didn’t know Louise Cross existed.
So why did Carlson and Kier travel the two hours south? He picked up his phone and dialed. When his call was answered on the third ring he said, “Robert, I have another job for you.”
* * *
Minutes after Malcolm dropped Angie off at her house, his phone rang. He maneuvered into traffic as he flipped it open. “Detective Kier.”
“How did it go at the prison?” Garrison said.
“I’ll fill you in when I see you. What’s up?”
“We’ve found more bones.”
Shit. “Where?”
“In an alley off of Temple.”
“Give me the address. I’ll be right there.”
He arrived in the alley ten minutes later. Ten squad cars flanked the alley and the street around it. Yellow crime-scene tape roped off the alley. Forensics was on scene, and he saw the flash of a camera.
He found Garrison, who stood at the lip of the alley, his hands on his hips. “The trash man found her bones piled by the Dumpster. These bones aren’t as clean as the others. The killer might have felt rushed.”
“He’s anxious for our attention?”
“Could be.”
“You said ‘her.’” The alley smelled of rotting food and urine.
Garrison shoved his hands into his pockets. “A guess by forensics.”
Malcolm glanced around, searching for surveillance cameras. He didn’t see any. “Witnesses?”
“The alley serves a grocery store on one side and a liquor store on the other side. Both were closed at midnight last night, and both proprietors did not see the bones at that time.”
“They were brought here last night?”
“Or very early this morning.”
“Any bones missing?”
Garrison nodded. “The femur bone.”
He relayed what Louise had said about Darius’s fascination with bones. “Whoever is killing these women is keeping their bones as trophies, maybe even making them into things he likes to carry or display.”
Garrison shove
d out a breath. “Darius Cross is dead.”
“Fay’s old boyfriend has got to be in his fifties.”
“At least,” Garrison said. “Whoever is behind this was a player then and now.”
“Or knew someone that was.”
“Like Angie Carlson?”
Malcolm shook his head. “She looked pretty shaken when Louise told her Frank Carlson helped dispose of a body.”
“I’ll bet.” Garrison shook his head. “She’s the common denominator for all the victims.”
“We know who this victim is?”
“Contact Lulu Sweet’s mother and see if she has dental records on file. I’ll bet money we found Angie’s missing client.”
Malcolm thought about that gooey kid with the sloppy grin. “Will do.”
Chapter 22
Tuesday, October 11, 6 A.M.
The cool waters of the pool did little to soothe Angie’s ragged nerves. All night she’d tossed and turned and thought of her parents: her stern father, her vivacious mother, and the marriage that had imploded. She imagined her father relenting to Darius Cross’s demands. Could he really have helped dispose of Fay’s body?
Her father had never once spoken of his work at the museum and the dark tasks Darius had required of him. Was Fay the only woman Darius had killed, stripped of flesh, and turned into a trophy?
Angie dug deeper into the water, pulling against it as if the exercise could drive all the frustration and sadness from her body.
She paused at the wall, her lungs screaming for air. Her muscles demanded a respite. She pulled her goggles from her head and set them on the concrete lip of the pool.
“You’re tearing that water up.”
She glanced to the lane beside her and saw that swimmer guy. What was his name? Martin.
Water clung to his dark hair. “How goes it? You look a bit driven today.”
She pulled her goggles up. “It’s been one of those weeks.”
This close she could see that he had blue, blue eyes that made her want to stare. No doubt he’d heard a million comments about his eyes, and she did not wish to join the legion of women who likely followed him. Had her mother once looked into Blue Rayburn’s eyes and felt the same tingle of excitement?
“I haven’t seen you here for a couple of days,” he said. He swam faster than she did, even today, and he was barely winded.
