Killing Jane: An Erin Prince Thriller

by Stacy Green

  “I bet you loved that.” Erin said. “So maybe Bonnie wasn’t as cool with your embarrassment about her as you thought.”

  Merritt’s fist thudded against the table. “She didn’t embarrass me. We had an understanding.”

  Erin wanted to believe the sadness in his eyes and the desperation in his voice. But something held her back. “So did you guys ever meet at your apartment? Which is in some über hip area like Logan Circle, right?”

  Merritt flinched. “The DeSoto. And no. She didn’t want to come over.”

  Beckett messed with his phone. “The reception in here sucks. Where exactly is The DeSoto? Sorry,” he said to Merritt. “New guy in town.”

  “Posh.” Erin filled Beckett in. “The DeSoto’s on P Street, right in the heart of swank hipster city. There’s a Whole Foods across the street, a Starbucks damned near next door, and a fitness center around the corner. What more could a young professional ask for?”

  “It’s a historic neighborhood near DuPont Circle,” Merritt said.

  “Northwest of Capitol Hill,” Erin clarified. “Yet another gentrified area filling up with young, affluent people and driving out the old-time residents. Right?”

  “You should talk,” Merritt said. “You come from one of the wealthiest families in the District.”

  Erin dropped against the chair, folding her arms. “Back to Bonnie. She didn’t want to come visit you at The DeSoto? My bet is you didn’t want the neighbors to see you slumming.”

  “Investigator Prince.” The advocate’s harsh voice only made the tension thicker. “Will isn’t on trial.”

  Erin turned an icy gaze on her. “I’m conducting an interview. My job is to serve Bonnie Archer. Not worry about anyone’s feelings. And you’re not his attorney.” She snapped her head back to the man across the table. Let the woman go to Sergeant Clark.

  Beckett watched in his unnerving silence.

  Merritt’s face turned several shades of red, making the roots of his hair appear almost white. “Hooking up with Bonnie was not slumming.” His jaw muscles flexed. His eyes looked wet. “Why are you doing this? I’m the one who found Bonnie.” His voice rattled, his head whipping from side to side as if to fend off the evil. “He stuck that thing inside of her! She was dead by then, right? Please tell me she didn’t suffer.”

  “She lived for at least part of the attack. We don’t know whether she was conscious.” Erin didn’t see the point in sugarcoating, and she wanted to see his reaction.

  Will Merritt covered his face in an effort to hide his tears.

  The advocate patted his shoulder.

  “Were you aware Bonnie used the attic to film amateur porn?”

  Merritt flinched, once again looking away. “She didn’t.”

  “Surely you saw the bed in the corner. The rope. The toys.” Erin’s voice sounded sharper than she intended, but the dishonesty glistening in the sweat beading over his forehead fueled her irritation. “Did you make the films with her?”

  Merritt’s cheeks flushed bright red. His head swiveled from side to side, but he still didn’t meet Erin’s eyes.

  Erin glanced back at Beckett.

  His impassive face finally flinched, revealing ... disappointment? Maybe she should not have allowed her personal experiences to cloud her line of questioning, but she’d taken the openings Merritt had given her. No way would she leave this room without some kind of information they could use.

  “Look, Will. I grew up with guys like you. I know the drill. We’re not supposed to mix with certain people, especially if we have political aspirations. Which you do, am I right?”

  Merritt wiped his face and shrugged.

  “So a relationship with Bonnie is not good for your career or social trajectory,” Erin said. “But you like her, so you keep it secret. Maybe you like her adventurous side, so you agree to make the videos. No judgment there. But then she tricks you into meeting her parents, and you realize she is way more into you than you wanted. You’re going to break it off, but Bonnie threatens to use the sex videos against you. You had to take care of her.” A weak motive, but Erin needed the guy to tell the truth. He might be able to lead them to their killer.

  Merritt jerked up straight, looking desperately at Beckett.

  The advocate squawked, but Erin shushed her with the same look she gave her sister when she’d heard enough.

  “No! The parents surprised me, especially since they got so excited. But Bonnie just wanted to get them off her back. She had to take bi-weekly drug tests to prove she was clean. She wanted to prove to them she had her life together. She worked really hard at school. Once she explained everything, we were cool again. And we didn’t make any movies.” Merritt’s shock turned to anger. “You said I wasn’t a suspect.”

  “I’m just giving you my theory.”

  “You’re wrong. Bonnie’s dead, and I found her. You think I want to have that image in my head?”

  “Will, do you need to stop?” The advocate asked. “We can do this tomorrow.”

  “No, we can’t.” Erin kept her eyes locked on Merritt’s sweating face. “We need to get as much information as possible.”

  Beckett sat down in between her and Merritt, leaning toward the nervous man. “You cared about Bonnie.”

  “As a friend, sure.” Merritt relaxed some, shifting in the chair until he faced Beckett. Closing himself off to Erin and talking to his buddy Beckett. She ...” Merritt’s voice caught. “Bonnie deserved better than this.”

  Beckett’s face remained impassive as he made a note in his crumpled notebook. He leaned toward Merritt, half blocking Erin with his wide shoulders.

  She gripped her pen until her fingers ached, but she kept her mouth shut.

  “And Bonnie never talked about anyone else she might have been seeing? Since you two were casual?”

  “No. She wasn’t the type to have a boyfriend on the side.”

  Beckett nodded, looking as if contemplating some great life secret.

  Erin’s patience snapped. “Where were you this evening before you discovered Bonnie and called 9-1-1?”

  The advocate sighed, but the defeat rang in her voice.

  Hopefully, she’d stay quiet unless Merritt asked for her.

  “At the office,” Merritt said. “Working on a project I’m taking to the Senate next week.”

  Good for him. Little puppy trying to play with the old dogs. “I suppose Baker-Allen’s state-of-the-art security system can confirm that?”

  “I’m sure,” Merritt snapped back. “As well as the front desk receptionist. I told her goodbye when I left.”

  Did he really think she didn’t know Baker-Allen had multiple exits? Depending on his security access, he could have gone down to the parking garage and left at any time without the guards seeing him. But he should be on the film if he’d told the truth.

  “We’ll confirm your information, no problem.” Buddy Beckett had returned, his hand on Merritt’s arm. “Did Bonnie tell you about any problems she had with anyone? Maybe someone hanging around who scared her?”

  Merritt’s hands went to his head, his fingertips digging into his scalp. His legs bounced up and down. “I told your boss earlier, I don’t know of anyone hanging around. But we never got too deep into personal things. You should talk to her cousin Sarah. They were close.”

  Beckett made another quick note. “You wouldn’t happen to have her number?”

  Merritt shook his head. “Do you have Bonnie’s phone? I’m sure it’s in her contacts.”

  “It’s an iPhone,” Erin said. “With a lock code. So it’s going to take some time for our tech guys to break. Unless you can give us the code?”

  “Bonnie never shared that sort of thing.” A shadow crossed his tired face, and he reached for a tissue but didn’t use it, instead tearing off sections and wadding them into balls.

  “Did you buy her the phone?” Erin pressed. She couldn’t quite believe Merritt had no idea how Bonnie made her money. “Did she ever ask for he
lp with the rent?”

  “No.” Merritt’s mouth curved into a tight smile. “Bonnie was determined to make it on her own.”

  “See, that’s bugging me.” Erin tapped her pen against her lip. “A single girl taking classes and working part-time renting a big house in Columbia Heights. The money doesn’t add up—even if she sold amateur porn online. Is there anything you’re not telling us? Because I think you’re lying.” She didn’t intend for the words to pop out, but they shot across the table like daggers.

  Merritt gnawed his lower lip, the apples of his cheeks pink. “I’m telling you everything. And I’m disgusted you think I’d hide anything from you after what I saw.”

  “It’s my job to ask hard questions,” she said. “And my gut tells me you’re hiding something.”

  “No wonder your sister won’t allow you to work for the family business. You’re pretty damn dense.”

  Erin’s temper flared, her mouth ready to chase after it.

  A heavy hand pressed her shoulder, easing her back into her chair.

  Her tongue burned from her teeth digging into it. “My sister tells a lot of lies. Work for her long enough, and you’ll find out. Then again, you can probably spot your own kind.” She leaned across the table, purposely invading his space. “Tell me what really happened. She blackmailed you over the videos. You snapped. Where’s the knife?”

  “I didn’t kill her.” Will Merritt stood, shoving his chair back. “And I don’t have to sit here and listen to this.”

  The advocate rose as well, pulling her blouse over her belly. The look on her face told Erin she’d be having words with someone about her.

  “You’re absolutely right,” Beckett said. “My partner’s only doing her job. Please sit down, talk to me. I just have a few more questions.”

  Beckett hadn’t exactly thrown her under the bus, but he’d definitely shoved her out the door. She kept silent as Beckett asked more routine questions, getting nothing from Will Merritt. Baker-Allen would make them get a subpoena for the security tapes.

  Will took Beckett’s card—a generic Metro P.D. card with Beckett’s cell scribbled on the back. He hadn’t been around long enough to get business cards, and he still made her feel like an ass.

  The advocate wrapped a motherly arm around Merritt and led him out of the interview room, grabbing a handful of tissues as she left.

  “You can’t do that again.” Beckett crossed his long arms. Patches of baby fine, dark hair covered the top of his hands. They matched his mustache.

  She stalked out of the room, her shoes tapping an uneven beat on the old tile. She couldn’t figure out exactly what pissed her off. Had Beckett naturally been playing off her bad cop? Or did he have something to say beyond his chastising look? Had she allowed old habits to come in and make her overly sensitive? He easily caught up with her.

  She slowed, trying to gather some composure. “Do what?”

  “Get combative with a guy before we have anything to use against him. You alienated a potentially great witness.”

  “He’s lying,” Erin said. “I’ll bet you anything he either willingly gave her money, or she blackmailed him. Which would account for her being able to live in a house that size alone. What else is he keeping from us?”

  “He may not have known about the porn,” Beckett said. “If he went upstairs and found her, chances are her body is all he saw. And we’ve got no physical evidence he did anything more. He agreed to the residue and fingerprinting. His alibi can be easily verified.” He held up his hands, placating and gentle, as he’d been with Merritt. “You’re not wrong about his lying. He knows a lot more than he’s telling us. But we’ve got to earn his trust.”

  “I grew up surrounded by people like him. He’s the kind of guy a girl from my social class is supposed to settle down with. I can tell you exactly how far they’ll take their assumed privilege.”

  Erin had rebelled against the norm fairly early, much to the humiliation of her older half-sister. Their father humored Erin’s choices, assuming she would eventually settle down with the right sort of man. When the right sort of man turned out to be a kleptomaniac with a juvenile record, her father hit the roof. Erin didn’t listen. Her marriage ended up in flames, but she ended up with Abby. That made all the misery worth it.

  She exhaled a raw breath. “But you’re right. I need to stay objective.”

  “It’s an acquired skill,” Beckett said. “I’m sure the fact he works for your family worries you.”

  “It doesn’t worry me,” she said. “Only solidifies his type.”

  Beckett smiled, his eyes wary. “People are never who they seem.”

  “My point.”

  “You’re making an assumption based on your own experiences. That’s a dangerous thing to do in our line of work.”

  If she kept arguing, Erin would start spewing a bunch of unprofessional, hostile crap. And she didn’t want to get into a major spat on their first night as partners, especially when they had a murder to solve. “So you know who I am. Do we have to go through the song and dance about how I earned my job, which has nothing to do with my family?”

  Beckett shook his head. “I couldn’t care less. Just do your job and have my back.”

  Erin’s phone rang with Sergeant Clark’s number. Her eyelids sagged as she put him on speaker.

  Clark’s urgent voice sent a tremor down Erin’s spine. “Get back to the crime scene immediately. Marie found something else.”

  * * *

  Some of the chaos had died down at Bonnie Archer’s house. Most of the neighbors had retreated into their homes, although Erin caught a few peering out of their windows. The press had scattered. Their morbid curiosity ended when the detectives and the dead body left the house.

  The house smelled far worse. Death imprints into the woodwork, leaving a specific smell behind. The various chemicals used by the technicians didn’t help matters. A wicked energy still pervaded the air, pressing against Erin as she climbed the stairs to hell on earth.

  The bloodstain on the attic floor resembled a baked river. Good luck to the landlord on getting the blood completely out of the wood. Marie stood near the dormer window, on the phone. She held up her index finger, and Erin nodded.

  She and Beckett stepped into the space, carefully avoiding the crusted area. Between the narrowness of the row house and the low hanging beams, the area was a minefield for a man his size.

  Beckett scowled. “This place makes me feel like I’m losing my mind.”

  “Me too,” Erin said. “I don’t like confined spaces. But I guess that’s partially my fault.”

  “Why?”

  Erin had no idea why she felt compelled to share anything with him. But that’s what partners did. And somehow through all the jokes and smack talk, you learned to trust each other. “My parents had a dinner party when my brother Brad and I were about six. Too young to attend, but our older half-sister did. She got to sit next to Nancy Reagan.”

  Beckett grinned. “Nancy Reagan? Cool. Is she as tiny in person as she looks on T.V.?”

  Erin’s muscles relaxed. “Yes. And I was so jealous of Lisa, because Nancy was an actress.” And because Nancy seemed so delicate and poised and soft spoken—all the things Erin wasn’t and her sister said she should be. “I didn’t care about her being the First Lady. Anyway, my brother—we’re fraternal twins if I didn’t tell you—and I locked ourselves in the broom closet. We freaked out and got caught. My dad and the president laughed. My mother wasn’t impressed.”

  Erin didn’t remember her mother’s punishment, but Nancy Reagan’s bemused expression tattooed itself onto Erin’s memory.

  “See, that’s a cool story.” Beckett stepped onto the attic’s threshold.

  “Most people think I must have grown up like royalty,” Erin said. “The perfect, sheltered life.”

  “There’s no such thing, especially when you’re growing up,” Beckett said. “It’s all varying degrees of shit.” His tone deepened on the last
word.

  Before Erin could respond, he jumped back to the present task. “What exactly are we looking for up here?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Marie’s crew had removed the drape covering the dormer window, but the reflection of the crime scene lights off the old glass only made the blood appear more garish. All of the bedding had been taken into evidence along with the sex paraphernalia.

  Erin tried to ignore the sensation of the space closing in on her. “We’ve got to cast our online net wider. I wish the department had facial recognition software.”

  “Lucy has access to it,” Beckett said. “She might be able to find Bonnie online a whole lot faster than us.”

  Clark would have their necks. Not exactly the way Erin wanted to start as lead on her first major homicide investigation. “We’d just have a person on a video. We need a location, a way to trace her.”

  “She can do that too.” Beckett looked down at the floor. “Don’t take this the wrong way. I realize I’m the new guy in town, but I’ve been a cop for more than fifteen years. Unless we get something viable quickly, a girl like Bonnie Archer is going to slip into the cold case files.”

  “Won’t happen,” Erin said. “But I’m not going against Sergeant Clark. It’s his show.”

  Marie finished her call. “So after you guys left, we found this over by the bed, wadded up and tossed in the corner.” Marie held up a plastic evidence bag containing a wrinkled piece of college-lined notebook paper with neat handwriting.

  Erin read the words out loud.

  I am compelled to do this horrible thing. It is if I am pulled by some larger force, a demon that will not rest. He whispers despicable things into my aggrieved mind. My heart knows I should not act, but my brain does not listen. I am no more than a slave to the blood I will yet spill tonight.

  —JTR

  31 August 1888

  Erin squinted at the handwriting. The black ink looked generic, and the crisp paper showed no sign of yellowing from age. “This looks like a diary entry. Is this something found during the Ripper investigation?”

  Beckett shook his head. “It’s definitely not one of the letters he allegedly wrote.”