Death Is Not Enough

by Karen Rose

  ‘His father said he was at home when I called last night,’ Thorne said.

  Joseph sighed again. ‘Yeah, well, he thought he was at the time. Mr York decided he wanted to talk to me first thing this morning before frightening his son. His friends admitted that Aidan had snuck out the window. That he’d been doing it for years.’

  Like me. He’s like me. Crawling out of windows to parties. Tavilla’s got him, and now he’s going to die. Like Nystrom.

  ‘Gwyn.’ Thorne gripped her shoulders. ‘You need to breathe. You don’t know that he’s going to die. He could be with another friend.’

  Gwyn hadn’t even realized she’d said the words aloud. ‘You don’t believe that, though.’

  Thorne squared his shoulders. ‘No, I don’t. But I also know we’re not going to find him by losing our shit. I’m going to tell you what you told me on Sunday. I’m not going to give you time to process this. I need you here with me now.’

  No, no, no, no. The chant filled her head. She wanted to curl up into a fetal position. She wanted to rock herself, like she had done right after leaving the hospital. After Evan.

  No. Not going back there. Get it together, Gwyn. She dragged in a breath. ‘What are you doing to locate him, Joseph?’

  ‘The local field office is treating this as an abduction. They’re forming the task force as we speak. I didn’t want you to hear this on the news or from someone else.’

  She jerked a nod. ‘Thank you. Will you raid Tavilla’s home and offices?’

  ‘Not right now. We don’t have anything connecting him to this that would allow us to get a warrant.’

  She leaned into Thorne, breathing him in. Picturing all the yarn on the bulletin board connecting the victims to the perpetrators. The connections they couldn’t yet explain were those to Tavilla. Why he had chosen to kill Patricia, and how he was tied to Linden Senior. And, of course, that motherfucking key ring.

  ‘What about Linden Senior?’ she asked. ‘Can you bring him in?’

  ‘For extorting Eileen Gilson into silence, yes. Maybe for interfering with the investigation into his son’s murder nineteen years ago. But that’s not enough to connect him to any of the rest of it.’

  ‘Brandenberg will do that,’ Thorne said. ‘He has to. He’s the only one left.’

  Joseph put his empty coffee cup aside. ‘Then let’s go talk to him. He’s meeting me and Hyatt in half an hour.’

  Baltimore, Maryland,

  Thursday 16 June, 9.30 A.M.

  ‘What did Clay say?’ Gwyn asked as they exited the elevator on the homicide floor of BPD. She, Thorne and JD had driven here with Joseph, while Frederick and Jamie had followed in Jamie’s van.

  Clay had stayed behind with Alec, who had now thrown himself into the search for the real Anne Poulin, not the woman who worked for Tavilla, but the one who’d left Montreal on a student visa. The real Anne Poulin was another link to Tavilla because she had once existed, but had been apparently erased and replaced by the woman who’d worked for Thorne for a whole year.

  Tweety had also stayed behind, but Thorne was rethinking that decision, because Gwyn was still pale and dangerously on edge as she waited for an answer to her question.

  He slid his phone into his pocket. ‘He was staticky at the end because of the elevator, but I got the main gist. Stevie got a call this morning from the coach of Patricia’s son’s lacrosse team. He’d found Tristan Armistead, who confirmed he’d been “seeing” Patricia. He was seventeen when she first approached him. He’d been both elated and terrified by her attentions. He was being seduced by an older, experienced woman, but he also knew Patricia’s son would not understand. When Patricia was murdered, he was afraid but didn’t know who he could go to for help.’ He narrowed his eyes at Joseph. ‘He also said that one of Hyatt’s men had already spoken to him. Told him to lay low.’

  Joseph’s eyes widened, showing rare shock. ‘I didn’t know that.’

  Thorne believed him. ‘Tristan said the cop who interviewed him accused him of calling Patricia to lure her away from home the night she was killed. He denies it. Says he’ll give access to his cell records to disprove it. He heard from his teammates that his coach was looking for him, and contacted him. He’s been sweating bullets for days, thinking the cops were going to arrest him or that Judge Segal was coming for him.’

  ‘Who was the cop?’ Joseph asked, dark color staining his cheekbones. He was pissed. Good. So was Thorne.

  ‘Gave his name as Detective Hooper.’

  Frederick gasped softly. ‘That’s the same name the guy gave to Sally Brewster, the one who was looking for Bernice Brown.’

  ‘Because Bernice Brown supposedly lured me out on Saturday night,’ Thorne said, ‘after which two innocent people were killed in their trailer because someone thought Bernice was there.’

  ‘But Detective Hooper doesn’t exist,’ Frederick said. ‘I checked.’

  ‘True,’ Thorne said, ‘but the man Tristan described reminds me a lot of that prick Brickman.’

  ‘Like it’s a shock that he’s dirty,’ Gwyn said bitterly. ‘I hated that man on sight.’

  JD was staring at an unoccupied desk in the bullpen. ‘You know, when I finally met Cesar Tavilla last year, he was sitting right there. At that desk.’

  ‘Tavilla was . . . here?’ Thorne asked. He hadn’t known that part.

  JD nodded. ‘Yeah. I’d been looking for him everywhere but hadn’t found him. He has offices but never seemed to be there. I left loads of messages with his receptionist. We were looking for Gage Jarvis for murdering his wife. It was urgent because we were afraid he’d go after his daughter, who’d witnessed it. We knew Tavilla had seen Gage Jarvis because you gave us that photo, Thorne.’

  ‘That I got from my contact Ramirez,’ Thorne said grimly. ‘Who is now dead. You’re saying that Tavilla just showed up? How’d he get past security?’

  ‘Good question. He wasn’t on the security camera in the lobby, which meant someone found an alternative way to get him in here. We opened an investigation, but didn’t get anywhere. As far as I know, it’s still an open case in IA.’

  ‘We figured that Tavilla had inside contacts,’ Joseph said, his jaw grim. ‘He’s been able to stay a few steps ahead of us for years. Fuck. I didn’t like that prick Brickman either.’

  ‘What do we do with this information?’ JD asked him quietly. ‘Is Hyatt compromised?’

  Joseph grimaced, agitated. ‘Shit.’ He straightened his spine and smoothed his expression. ‘We’ll keep the news about Tristan quiet for now. I’ll tell Hyatt myself after this meeting with Dr Colt. If Brickman is in the room, I’ll find a reason to get him to leave.’

  ‘This should be interesting,’ Thorne muttered. He put his arm around Gwyn and drew her close. She leaned into him, her step momentarily faltering.

  She was terrified for the boy she’d had to watch growing up from afar, and she had every right to be. She’d seen what had been done to Patricia first-hand and she knew about the others. He had no words of comfort, so he tightened his grip, holding her up.

  ‘Just a little longer, baby,’ he whispered, hoping like hell that was true. Her nod was jerky, but she was still with him, so he’d have to be satisfied with that.

  He braced himself as he stepped into the conference room, the same room he’d been brought to after Gwyn and Stevie had been shot at. Right after they’d talked with Brent Kiley, the EMT. Who was now dead.

  Colton Brandenberg came to his feet when they entered, his expression exhausted. And haunted. His sister remained seated beside his chair, giving Thorne a look of apology. He nodded to her, because he understood protecting one’s family. He’d do anything for his.

  ‘Tommy,’ Colton said quietly. ‘Or is it Thomas now?’

  ‘It’s just Thorne. Thank you for coming in.’

  The man shook his head. ‘Don�
��t thank me,’ he said darkly. ‘Please.’

  Shit, Thorne thought wearily. What now?

  He helped Gwyn into a chair on the other side of the table and sat beside her, conscious of Frederick and Jamie behind him. Joseph took the chair on Thorne’s left and Hyatt made the introductions.

  ‘Dr Brandenberg wouldn’t tell us anything until you got here, Thorne,’ he said, his irritation clear. ‘Now that you are, let’s get this show on the road.’

  Colton cleared his throat. ‘It’s Brandon Colt now, but people just call me Colt.’ He spoke with an accent that he hadn’t had when they were teens back in school, and Thorne wondered how long he’d been in Appalachia.

  ‘Why shouldn’t I thank you?’ Thorne asked. If Colt wasn’t going to help them, he’d rather know now than continue to hope for a revelation.

  ‘Because I should have said something nineteen years ago,’ Colt answered bitterly.

  ‘But I’m telling it now and I hope it will help.’ He drew a breath, gripping his sister’s hand hard. ‘My sister didn’t know any of these details until earlier this morning, when I arrived in town.’ He lifted a brow at Thorne. ‘I got your message. How did you track me down?’

  ‘I have enterprising friends.’

  ‘You must. No one’s found me in nineteen years. Because I changed my name and ran away.’ He blew out a breath. ‘Because I was a coward. I was terrified of Richard Linden’s father. And Gil Segal.’

  Thorne stared at him. ‘Segal? Judge Segal? Why?’

  ‘Not now, not because he’s a judge. I was afraid of him back then. He was dating Patricia when she was in high school. Her parents had forbidden her to see him because he was so much older. He was in college and she was only fifteen. She didn’t listen.’

  Beside him, Gwyn sighed softly, but said nothing. Thorne took her hand under the table and squeezed it.

  ‘Patricia was always unhappy,’ Colt continued. ‘At first we thought she was just moody. What the hell did we know? We were kids and we knew nothing about girls. By “we”, I mean me, Chandler and Darian. Richard was the expert. He’d had sex a lot more than we had. Trouble was, he had to force the girls to give it to him.’

  ‘You knew he was raping girls?’ Thorne asked.

  ‘No. Not at first. Not really until after we beat you up.’ He dropped his gaze. ‘For which I have been ashamed ever since.’ He looked up, met Thorne’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Tommy. I mean Thorne. I was one hundred percent wrong that day.’

  Thorne wasn’t ready to accept his apology, so he just nodded. ‘Tell us about Patricia.’

  ‘Richard believed that Angie Ospina liked him. He wanted to believe it, at least. The day we beat you up, he’d boasted that she’d been all over him the night before. He suggested she might be up to taking a few of us on at once.’ He grimaced, as if still finding the notion contemptible. ‘Chandler and Darian were all for it. I . . . wasn’t. There was the typical macho bullshit. You know, asking if I was a pussy, or if I wasn’t into girls at all. What they didn’t know then is that I wasn’t.’

  It took Thorne a second. Then . . . ‘Oh.’

  Colt nodded grimly. ‘Yeah. Oh. I obviously wasn’t out then and it was critical to me to keep my secret. To seem as straight as I could be.’ He glanced at his sister. ‘Our parents were conservative. If they’d known, I’d have been thrown out.’

  His sister’s smile was tight and sad and loving all at once. ‘I’d have taken you in.’

  ‘Like you could afford another mouth to feed back then,’ Colt said with a shake of his head. ‘But I know you would have tried.’

  ‘I always wondered why you hung with Richard and his friends,’ Thorne said. ‘You’d always been so nice before.’

  ‘I know. I hated them. I hated myself. I was a mess. Not all of my rage that day was aimed at you. I was having trouble at home too. When you did the right thing that day, saving Angie, something in me just snapped. All that self-loathing just . . . It took over and I just remember being so mad. Like I couldn’t see clearly. You were the most accessible target, and again, I’m sorry. I tried to find you after your trial, after I got my shit together, but you’d changed your name too.’

  Thorne was more inclined now to give him absolution, but he’d wait to do so until they were alone. And after Colt actually gave them some useful information. ‘I understand your mental state at the time,’ was all he said. ‘Can you tell us about the day Richard was killed?’

  Colt’s eyes registered the fact that Thorne had not accepted his apology, but he nodded. ‘Richard was at the school that night because he was going to take your bass and destroy it. Darian, Chandler and I went with him, but I had a last-minute panic attack and refused to go inside. They laughed at me and left me outside. They had a key to the school – Richard had stolen it from his father, who had it because he was on the board or some bullshit. But they left the door cracked open with a brick so that I could join them if I changed my mind. I ducked behind a bush when Gil Segal got there, and he was . . . well, like a charging bull. He didn’t see me, because I was hiding. Like a coward.’ He drew a steadying breath. ‘He grabbed the brick and ran inside. The door closed and locked behind him.’ Colt looked away, his eyes focusing on the past. ‘A few minutes later, the door busted open and Chandler and Darian came running out, white as ghosts and babbling that Gil was killing Richard, gutting him with a knife, screaming that he’d never put his filthy hands on Patricia again.’

  He blinked, and his eyes refocused on Thorne. ‘They ran, Chandler and Darian. I tried to run too, but I was frozen. It couldn’t have been more than a minute later that you and Sherri arrived. I could see you on the curb, talking.’ He swallowed. ‘I always liked Sherri. She was kind to me, even though I was a mean, hateful mess.’

  Thorne’s throat closed. ‘Yeah,’ he whispered hoarsely, vividly remembering the girl he’d loved. ‘She was kind.’

  Gwyn squeezed his hand, resting her head against his arm. Understanding his grief. Not begrudging him a single memory of his first love. Gwyn was kind too, he thought. Under her sarcastic, prickly cactus exterior, she was a marshmallow. He had the sudden certainty that Sherri would have totally approved.

  ‘You and Sherri went inside with your key,’ Colt went on, ‘and a few seconds later Gil Segal came out, all wild-eyed and covered in blood. He looked around and I thought he’d see me, but he didn’t. He tossed a knife into a bush about five feet from the one I was hiding behind, then threw the brick . . . far. I don’t know how far away exactly, but it landed in the parking lot. Split into pieces.’

  Thorne frowned. ‘That would have been close to a hundred feet.’

  Colt shrugged. ‘I heard it hit. I was surprised too, when I was getting my thoughts together for this morning, but I also remembered that Gil was on the track team in college. He did shot-put. A brick weighs only about a third of what a shot weighs in college. He was big. And really strong. He fucking terrified me that day. Literally was huffing like a bull.’

  ‘The police never found the brick,’ Jamie said from behind them. ‘They did find the knife, though. What happened next?’

  ‘Gil stood there huffing, like I said. And then he just went still. Again, I thought he’d seen me, but he pulled a cell phone from his pocket. It was the same kind Richard had. It might have been Richard’s. He called 911 and reported intruders in the school. Said he could hear screams. Said for the cops to hurry. Then he hung up and ran away. Not like Chandler and Darian had done. He didn’t tear out of there like a bat out of hell. He just jogged to his pickup truck and drove off.’

  Thorne sucked in a breath. ‘Pickup truck? Fucking hell. He killed Sherri and her father? Gil Segal, who’s now a fucking judge?’

  Colt looked tired. ‘I don’t know for sure. Probably.’

  Gwyn was pressing her forehead against Thorne’s arm and Jamie clutched his other shoulder. Supporting him.


  ‘Okay,’ Thorne breathed. ‘Okay.’ He closed his eyes because they were stinging with tears. I walked away. Allowed a killer to go free. I’m sorry, Sherri. I’m so damn sorry. He drew a breath, let it out. ‘What about the key ring?’

  Colt looked ill. He opened his mouth, then sighed. ‘God.’

  ‘Just tell them,’ his sister urged. ‘It’ll all be over with.’

  Colt’s nod was shaky. ‘It was the evening after we beat you up. We’d gone to Richard’s house because he had the best video game system and his parents had an unlocked bar. They weren’t home that night, the parents. Patricia came down to get some vodka and I remember thinking, “What the hell?” She was only fifteen.’ His lips twisted bitterly. ‘Richard poured her a drink and Patricia took it upstairs. Later, when we were all pretty drunk, Richard took out the key ring and dangled it in front of us. We were like, you drilled a hole in your medal, are you insane? He said it was his special good luck charm, not that he needed luck. He showed us a little baggie filled with powder. Called it his “yes dust”. Said it made them all say yes. Or at least not say no. Then he went upstairs. Came back down a little while later looking relaxed. Like he’d just gotten laid. Chandler and Darian were cheering him on. He gave them the key. Told them to go for it.’

  Thorne swallowed back the bile that burned his throat. ‘He had a key to Patricia’s room?’

  Colt nodded. ‘I . . . I left. Ran home. Threw up in the bushes on my way. I didn’t know what to do with the information. I started to tell my father when I got home, but he was going off about how you, Tommy, were a troublemaker. How I should stay away from thugs like you and stick with “guys with class”, like Richard. That making those friends in high school would pave the way when I got older. All I could think of was Richard dangling that key in front of us.’ He shook his head, his self-loathing written all over his face. ‘The next day at school, Richard and the others gave me hell for running away the night before. Questioned my masculinity again. When they decided to break into the school on Sunday night, I went with them. I actually had the thought that I could get that key away from Richard and throw it in the river. But Gil Segal must have found it first, because it ended up in Richard’s body.’