Killing Jane: An Erin Prince Thriller

by Stacy Green

  A woman had caught her live-in boyfriend molesting her six-year-old daughter. Erin sat with the woman while she described what she’d witnessed, allowing her then-partner to ask all of the questions. After they left the woman’s house, Erin had to pull over to throw up. Brad talked her out of transferring to another department.

  “It’s a stepping stone to homicide,” he’d said. “The big leagues. Isn’t that where you want to be?”

  At the time, she’d said yes, of course. The big leagues meant the opportunity for big cases and making a real difference. And to finally prove to her sister and father becoming a cop meant something. Just because she didn’t make the nightly news or a lot of money didn’t mean she couldn’t be proud of her job.

  Thinking about the slaughter of Bonnie Archer’s body, Erin wasn’t so sure.

  She parked her black Impala at the far end of the Adult Learning Center lot. The new model car had been a present to herself for her birthday, and she didn’t want door dings in the first six months of owning it.

  Beckett stepped out and looked around. “Decent neighborhood,” he said. “I like the old row houses in this city. So many different ones, like home. All with stories to tell.”

  “They are pretty cool.” She and Brad considered buying in one of the older neighborhoods, but she wanted Abby to go to the safest and best schools without being completely sheltered. So they’d ended up in Arlington, investing in a duplex and enrolling Abby in private school.

  “A lot of them have original fixtures like clawfoot tubs and crown molding. They also have the shitty wiring and bad heating.” She turned her attention to Academy of Hope’s three-story brick building.

  “It looks like a community center,” Beckett commented.

  “It was,” Erin said. The L-shaped structure had freshly cleaned bricks and a cheerful portico at the entrance. Welcoming and safe. “Two teachers started the academy in the 80s. They worked out of a church. This is their third location, thanks to a big grant.”

  She led the way to the entrance, glaring at the ugly day. Soon the dying fall colors would give way to more dank and dark days like this one. Gray skies, ice, and snow. Joy.

  Inside smelled clean and new along with the distinctly academia scent of printed papers, brewing coffee, and microwaved lunch. A reception desk sat in the middle of the wide hallway.

  A woman with a bright smile and dangly skull earrings smiled at them. “Can I help you?”

  Erin and Beckett showed their badges. “We’re investigating the murder of Bonnie Archer. Is the director available?”

  The receptionist’s smile disappeared. “I saw it on the news this morning. Who would hurt someone like that?” She tugged at a string on her orange sweater. The Halloween kitty’s eye had started to unravel. “Bonnie was so nice.”

  “You knew her well?” Beckett slouched against the tall counter, unthreatening.

  “Not well,” she said. “Just in passing. But she stood out. Never in a bad mood, always said hello and goodbye. Always asked about my day. Just a happy person.” She blinked, her heavy mascara ghosting against her skin. “I can’t understand it.”

  “We can never truly understand these things,” Beckett said. “All we can do is find justice for her.” He offered a kind smile. “The director?”

  “Yes, of course. Dr. Key’s office is down the hall, the first room on the right. We’ve got an open-door policy.”

  “Thank you,” Beckett said. “Are most of the classrooms upstairs then?”

  “Yes.” The skull earrings danced. “We use the downstairs for social areas and meetings.”

  “Social areas?” Erin asked.

  “We believe an informal environment, while keeping with a solid academic structure, makes adult students feel more at home. We encourage them to socialize and get to know one another. They’re the only ones who can empathize with each other. A lot of students end up having study groups in the downstairs areas.”

  “Did you ever see Bonnie in any of these groups?” Erin asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “During the summer.”

  Erin leaned onto the counter, lowering her voice. “Any chance you could tell me the names of the students in her group?”

  Wide eyes answered her. “I’m not allowed for privacy reasons. You’d have to ask the director.”

  “Thank you,” Erin said. “We’ll see ourselves to her office.”

  Erin stopped at the first open office door.

  An African-American woman looked up from her computer. Or rather, over her tortoise shell reading glasses. “Hello. Can I help you?”

  Erin and Beckett introduced themselves. “We’d like to speak with you about Bonnie Archer.”

  Dr. Key took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I thought we’d be hearing from you. Stephanie Key.”

  She looked to be in her mid-forties, a few wrinkles around her eyes. Her glowing ebony skin needed no makeup, and her gray suit made her appear professional yet stylish.

  She motioned to the chairs in front of her desk. “Please, sit.”

  Erin sat and pulled out her notebook. She could barely read her earlier notes. “To confirm, you’re the director of the Adult Learning Center, correct?”

  Key nodded. “Yes, of both our GED program and our Pathways program, although each one has its own coordinator.”

  “Pathways is a different program?” Beckett questioned.

  “It’s for students with a diploma or GED who will be entering the workforce or going on to college. We have readiness programs for each.”

  “Which Bonnie was interested in, right?” Erin asked, remembering what the Archers told them.

  “Yes.” Key reached for her desk phone. “Why don’t I invite the GED coordinator to talk as well? He would know more about Bonnie than I would.”

  Erin and Beckett waited while she made the phone call, speaking quietly.

  “Thank you.” She hung up the phone. “Brian is on his way down. He’s in between meetings.”

  “Do the coordinators also teach?” Erin asked.

  “No,” she said. “Our coordinators deal with the Department of Education and the local schools. They facilitate teacher training and student tracks. Brian makes it a point to connect with all of his students. I knew Bonnie in passing and by reputation. He’s spent time with her.” She leaned back in her chair, rubbing the tender skin beneath her eyes. “Please tell me you have an idea of who did this.”

  “We’re working very hard.” Beckett sidestepped the question. “What can you tell us about your students?”

  Key considered for a moment. “Our GED program is a mixed bag. We have young adults, like Bonnie, who made poor choices in their early lives but are getting back on track. We’ve also got older adults who want to get their GED as well as foreign-born students.”

  “What about social class?” Erin asked. “Are most of these people from lower socio-economic backgrounds?”

  Key smiled. “You don’t have to worry about political correctness, Investigator Prince. Yes, most of the students are poor. Many of them grew up on the streets or ended up there. And our minority students are a larger segment but not by much. We have plenty of white kids too.”

  A knock on the door stopped Erin from asking her next question. She and Beckett turned to see a tall, sandy-haired man with wonderfully broad shoulders standing in the doorway. He smiled at them, revealing perfect teeth. An all-American poster boy, and the sort she’d never gone for. But looking at his blue eyes, she could see making an exception.

  “Brian Reese.” He extended his hand. “And this is Vanessa Carrington.”

  A short woman with spiky hair stood behind him.

  “Vanessa is the language arts teacher. Bonnie needed to finish language arts for her GED, and she spent a lot of time with her.”

  Beckett stood and motioned for the petite teacher to sit.

  Red streaked her eyes, and her tawny skin appeared pale. “I keep thinking this isn’t happening.” Her voice tremble
d. “It’s a nightmare.”

  Brian Reese wedged into the small space between Key’s desk and her bookshelves. “How can we help you?”

  Erin cleared her throat. “Tell us about Bonnie’s time here. Was she a good student?”

  “Oh yes,” Vanessa said. “She flew through her math course, but she had some issues with reading and writing. She worked hard, and she always had a good attitude. One of those people who brightened a room.” Vanessa played with a loose button on her sleeve, twisting it tightly enough to pop off.

  “She wanted to enter the Pathways program once she earned her GED,” Brian said. “She was set to finish this spring and, assuming she passed the GED test, would enter Pathways in the fall.”

  “Did you spend much time with her?” Erin asked.

  Brian crossed his arms, making his biceps bulge, and furrowed his brow. “Not a lot. When a student enters the program, they work with me to get their course schedule figured out. And then if they have any issues, they can always come to me. Since Bonnie started, I only saw her in passing until she stopped in to talk about Pathways a few weeks ago. She was excited about it, and I was excited for her.”

  Beautiful and young, Bonnie clearly knew how to attract men, at least when being paid for it. Brian Reese was flat-out hot. He didn’t look the sort who would need any help getting a girl, and Erin didn’t know too many women who wouldn’t have been attracted to him. “So your relationship with the students is from afar, essentially. Unless a question or problem arises.”

  “Exactly,” Brian said.

  “When did you last see Bonnie?”

  “I’ve been away at a conference,” he said. “I actually flew home late last night, so I haven’t seen her—or any of the students—for nearly a week. But we hadn’t spoken much since we discussed Pathways. Just exchanges in the hall.”

  Erin caught Beckett’s eye. Nice of Reese to offer his alibi.

  “We’ll need to confirm you being out of town.” Beckett said the words casually.

  Brian cocked his head. “Really?”

  “Anyone with any contact with Bonnie is a person of interest,” Beckett said. “We’ve got to rule out everyone we possibly can.”

  “Of course.” He crossed one ankle in front of the other, unfazed. “What do you need?”

  “Do you still have your boarding pass?” Beckett asked.

  “I probably do. I crashed as soon as I got home and then rushed to work. I might have the parking receipt too.”

  Convenient. “Those would be great. We can send a uniform to pick them up later.”

  “Anything I can do to help.” He caught Erin’s gaze and smiled at her, his blue eyes bright.

  Erin turned her attention to Vanessa. “You knew her best among the staff?”

  “Yes.”

  “What was she like? Did she have any issues with anyone?”

  “Sweet. Smart. Caring.” Vanessa wiped her constantly watering eyes. “I told you she brightened the room. We all liked her.”

  “Did you or anyone else ever notice her being bruised or injured in any way?” Beckett asked. “Anything that might have prompted you to ask her if she needed help?”

  All three staff members shook their heads.

  Erin suspected Bonnie kept her bruises hidden. “She participated in a study group this summer?”

  “A math group,” Vanessa said. “Math came easily to her, and she wanted to help other students. She spent a couple of hours a few times every week.”

  “So she interacted with a lot of students.” Beckett looked at Key with the expression of a boy caught digging into the cookie jar. “I don’t suppose we could have a list of your enrolled GED students?”

  “Absolutely not without a warrant, as I’m sure you expected,” Director Key said.

  They had no probable cause for a warrant. Not yet, anyway. “Are there any students she spent more time with than others? Any she might have hung out with outside of class?”

  Vanessa thought a minute before answering. “I don’t know for sure, but my gut says no.”

  “Why?” Erin leaned forward. “I thought she was a social butterfly.”

  Vanessa pulled a tissue out of the pocket of her baggy sweater. “I’m not using the right terminology. She came to learn, and while she was nice, she didn’t spend her time talking and getting to know people.” Vanessa shook her head. I got the distinct impression she wanted to keep her private life private.”

  “How so?” Beckett pressed. “Can you give us an example?”

  Vanessa thought about it for a minute. “Before class and during breaks, most students chatter about something other than school. Bonnie listened, but she wasn’t very talkative.”

  “Did you ever ask her about friends and family?” Erin kept an eye on Brian Reese. He knew the students and likely counseled them on some level. He struck her as the kind of man who could easily convince a woman to confide in him. His expression gave nothing away, his gaze on the teacher, seemingly unaware of Erin’s observation.

  “I did ask whether she had people supporting her at home,” Vanessa said. “She told me her parents were supportive and helping her with her homework. And her cousin as well.”

  And right back to Sarah. They needed to find her soon. A troubling thought brewed in the back of Erin’s mind. She stowed it and asked her next question. “What about a boyfriend? Did Bonnie have one?”

  All three shook their heads.

  “She stayed focused on school,” Vanessa said. “She worked part-time, but she mentioned once she didn’t have time for anything serious.”

  That at least backed up Will Merritt’s side of the story.

  “There was one student,” Brian Reese said. “I never thought anything about it, but I saw her leave with him a few times. Walking in the direction of the Metro. I assume they both rode the same line. But they seemed friendly.”

  “What was his name?”

  Brian glanced at Key.

  Her face hardened, the fine lines around her mouth deepening. “Reese.”

  “It’s not a privacy violation,” he argued. “You’re not giving his information out.”

  She looked at him for several tense seconds before nodding.

  “Ricky Stout,” Brian said. “Brilliant kid, just twenty-one. Grew up in Anacostia, so you can imagine the things he’s seen. He’s in the Pathways program.”

  “Another black male who made it out and won’t make it to the news,” Key said, a sharp edge creeping into her voice. “He’s worked hard to get his life straightened out.”

  “Is Ricky in class today?” Erin asked.

  Key shook her head. “Not until tomorrow night. I’m sorry, but if you want any other information on a student, you’ll need a warrant.”

  Beckett seemed satisfied, but after Key’s last comment, Erin wanted to know why the woman remained so protective over one student’s privacy when another had been brutally murdered.

  “Sarah’s still not answering, so I called her dad. And Simon Archer refused to take my call until I told him Calvin Prince was my father.” The disgust in Erin’s tone didn’t compare with the rush of irritation at the way Simon Archer kissed her ass when his assistant finally put the call through.

  She reached for the half-full coffee pot and took a careful whiff. Semi-fresh. Good enough. “You should have heard the guy. ‘Ms. Prince, the Republican Governors are so grateful for your father’s monetary contributions. He’s made a huge difference in our cause.’” She dumped two sugars into the coffee and stirred. “And then I asked him whether he knew his niece had been murdered last night. Tone completely changed.”

  “Why else did he think you were calling?” Beckett clutched two donuts wrapped in a flimsy napkin.

  The corners of Erin’s mouth crept up. “I might have forgotten to tell his assistant I was a cop.”

  Beckett laughed.

  It was a lot heartier than she would have expected.

  “Well done. What did he say?”

 
They walked toward Sergeant Clark’s office to debrief him. “He’d heard the news. Such a tragedy, but her lifestyle. Blah, blah, blah. I asked him about Sarah, and he got defensive.”

  “Did you tell him they were in contact?”

  “No. I wanted to wait. I said her name came up as family, and we needed to talk to her. He said the same thing as his brother: ‘the girls haven’t spoken in years.’ He claims Sarah is staying at their house, hunkering down on her master’s thesis. He saw her this morning. Like I thought—Sarah’s probably trying to find the chance to call without raising her parents’ suspicion. Simon didn’t make any effort to hide his disapproval of his niece.”

  “Did he offer the information about Sarah willingly?”

  Erin took a drink of the coffee and scowled. The first chance she got, she would purchase a Keurig along with a couple of months’ worth of coffee pods. “He told me his daughter’s whereabouts were none of my business.”

  Simon Archer dripped venom during their conversation. But his constant name-dropping of Erin’s father royally pissed her off.

  “So I told him I knew what it was like to be close to your parents, and that this whole thing reminded me I needed to catch up with my father today. He took the hint.” She wished she could have been in Archer’s office to see the look on his face. “Did you get anything back on Ricky Stout?”

  “A sealed juvenile record. Not surprising. Last known address was a shelter, two years ago. Still, it’s worth swinging by.”

  Sergeant Clark’s door stood open, and he motioned them inside. “Please tell me you’ve got something. Bonnie’s parents have already called me twice today.”

  Beckett ran through what they had so far, which amounted to a pile of questions and no answers. Clark rocked in his chair to the point Erin worried it would break and dump him on the floor.

  “I still think we could be looking for a female killer hung up on the idea of Jack the Ripper being a woman,” Erin said.

  Clark rubbed the muscles in his shoulder. “Beckett, what do you think?”

  Nerves tightened Erin’s stomach. Would Beckett make her look like a fool?

  “I’m not completely against it,” he finally said. “I think we’ve got to follow the leads we have, and other than the papers, we don’t have anything leading to a woman—yet. We need to keep our eyes open though.”