by Laurel Dewey
Jane shook her head and pulled out a cigarette. She started to light up when a nurse spotted her. “Officer!” the nurse said, “you can’t smoke in here!”
Jane walked down the hallway and out the automatic doors. A hospital traffic cop eyed her blue Mustang that was parked where she’d left it. “That’s a police vehicle!” Jane yelled over to him. “Tow it and you’ll be sorry!” Jane ducked around a corner and found a secluded area. She no sooner lit up when she heard her name quietly spoken. She turned. “Boss!” Jane said, semi-startled.
“I just came from the scene,” Weyler said, subdued. “It’s a goddamn mess.”
Jane took a drag on her cigarette and looked off into the distance. “You know, I wanted Martha out of the picture. But I never wanted anything like this to happen to her. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t left.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’d have the good sense not to have the windows and back door wide open. Did you not express to her the possibility of a stalker?”
“Yes. I told her there was some concern in that area.”
“That’s it? Concern? Martha probably didn’t equate the same meaning to that word. Did you tell her to keep the windows and doors closed?”
“I did. She said the house was stuffy and that she wanted to briefly open the windows to move the air around.”
“How many people die for how many stupid reasons? So, who else knows about this mess?”
“We’re holding off the media as long as possible. I’ll have Chris handle that when I feel it’s appropriate. I ordered a twenty-four hour police guard around Emily. Other than that, I haven’t debriefed anyone. I was hoping you had information from the number one source.”
Jane leaned against the wall and stared up into the starry night sky. “She was on that damn roof. I don’t know whether she went out there to look at the stars or to get away from something. Either way, she was out there and slipped and caught hold of the vent pipe. She hung there while this fucking asshole crawled out on the roof.”
“We know it’s a guy?”
“She says she heard him breathing. That’s how close he was. And then he left.”
“Left?”
“Maybe the back alley patrol vehicle freaked him out. I haven’t had a chance to figure out the timing but he must have shot Martha and then made a beeline up to Emily’s bedroom and crawled out on the roof when he saw her open window. He had to know that we’d be in there when we heard the shot. He knew he had to work fast and get out. It was a helluva chance but it goes to show how desperate he was.”
“Where did he go? He’s on the goddamn roof.”
“He didn’t go back into the house through her bedroom because there were no signs of wet footprints on the bedroom carpeting.” Jane thought for a second. “Come to think of it, I don’t recall seeing any outside footprints on the carpeting except for Emily’s from when she went outside earlier in the evening.”
“So, he covered his tracks?”
“He covered his feet. Just like the first time when he took out her parents.”
“This puts us back to the theory that one person killed two people—”
“One person can kill two people. You stun one and kill the other, then turn around and finish off the first. This guy is smart. He’s a pro.”
“Are you forgetting that Emily’s parents were killed with two different knives and two different kill patterns?”
“He planned it that way, knowing it would throw us off. This guy’s sick but he’s far from stupid.”
“So, what’s ‘PAYBACK?’ Weyler wondered out loud, referring to the ominous note left on the knife that cut through Martha’s cheek.
“I don’t know.”
“I’m aware that you feel this case has nothing to do with drug dealing, but I think we should seriously reconsider that possibility.”
“Boss, I told you, it doesn’t add up—”
“I know. The kid told you that she never saw her folks doing coke. I don’t think that’s a good enough reason to dismiss the idea. ‘Payback’ is revenge.”
“It’s also used by the mob.”
“Are you saying this is the Texas mob?”
“I’m saying it could be any mob and I’m not saying that a mob is involved.”
“Why not?”
“What link would the mob have with this little family?”
“Maybe it’s worth looking into. I can put Chris on it—”
“Don’t bother Chris right now.” Jane took another drag on her cigarette. “He’s got his own suspect theory going.”
“What’s that?”
“Right about now, I imagine he’s doing background checks on Dr. James Dobson and Pat Robertson. You know? The infamous ‘Christian Cocaine Cartel.’ ” Weyler looked askance. “Don’t worry, boss. Let him make a fool of himself. He wants to solve this thing and fuck the consequences.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to make sure nothing bad ever happens to that kid again.”
“Really? I was under the impression that you and she had no connection whatsoever. Isn’t that what you told me?” Weyler was testing Jane, goading her to see when she’d bite. “You know, I would never accuse you of caring for someone like Emily. But I have to assume that you’ve developed some extraordinary bond with that child for you to suddenly get off your ass, leave your house for no known reason and save that girl’s life. How do you explain that?”
Jane searched the ground for answers. Her head spun as she recalled the disjointed, disembodied dream of Emily screaming for help. “I can’t explain it, boss.”
Weyler nodded. “Okay.”
There was a moment of tense silence. “Boss?” Jane hesitated. “I haven’t been completely up front with you.” Weyler waited, a little uneasy. “Today, before I went down to DH to talk to that nutcase that Chris questioned, Emily told me something.”
“Such as?”
“A third voice. She recalls her parents fighting and then hearing the sound from downstairs of a third voice.”
“What was the voice saying?”
“Something about an accident. That was the way he got the Lawrences to let him into the house. You know, ‘My cell phone’s dead. Can I use your phone to report the accident?’ Emily said she heard the footsteps of the stranger walking into the kitchen for a brief period of time. That’s where the Lawrences’ phone is located so it might fit.”
“The crime scene evidence proves that the perp’s feet were covered, he wore gloves and a mask. Certainly, he didn’t show up at the door in that garb?”
Jane quickly started to formulate possible scenarios. “He didn’t. He had it hidden somewhere on his person. When he was in the kitchen, he could change into it quickly and then reemerge. Emily remembered hearing a lot of yelling after the stranger walked back into the living room.”
Weyler considered Jane’s theory. “If that’s what occurred, then this guy is premeditated to a fault.”
“This was not some dime store kill. Powerful people needed the Lawrences dead . . . But the Lawrences don’t seem to know anybody.” Jane tossed her cigarette on the ground, crushing it with her boot heel. “Anyway, I didn’t tell you what Emily told me and so there it is. That’s all she’s been able to remember, but . . .” Jane began to struggle with the concept. “But I think she’s going to remember more. When you send her to Cheyenne, make sure she gets some help, okay? She’s gonna need it.”
“Her aunt and uncle are not willing to take her back right now.”
Jane was stunned. “Why not?”
“They’re scared. Actually, they are terrified. They feel that whoever is after the kid is going to keep after her until one of them is dead. And after tonight, it only proves that whoever else might be with the child would also be in danger. They’re not willing to take that chance right now.”
Jane moved closer to Weyler, angered. “So what happens to Emily?”
“Do the
math, kiddo.”
“Protective custody?” Jane could hardly get the words out.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“I’m not sure. Until we figure out this whole thing.”
“You may never solve it! What’s the kid supposed to do? Hide out in some town with a bunch of FBI agents until she’s old enough to vote?”
“You’ve got the ‘hide out’ part right. But I’m keeping the FBI out of this.” Weyler looked Jane in the eye. “There’s only one person who I trust and who that child trusts.”
Jane was dumbstruck. “What about my job? I still have a job. Right?”
“Right now, this is your job.”
Jane tried to let the information soak in. “Okay, so, let me get this straight. You’re gonna . . . what? Find some house in some town and I’m gonna take her there and we’re gonna lay low? Is that what I’m hearing?”
“I’ll need to work out more specifics with the DA, but that’s it in a nutshell.”
“For how long?”
“Not sure. I want you to keep this strictly confidential. Just you and me and the DA will know where you’re staying. Don’t tell your brother or your father or Chris.”
“I can deal with Mike and my dad, but what in the hell am I supposed to tell Chris? He’s going to go ballistic if he thinks I’m showboating his case.”
“I will tell him the same thing that I tell everyone else who’s involved in the case. As of this moment, you and the kid are underground. For the child’s protection, they’ll have to understand—Chris included.”
“How in the hell are you gonna make this happen, boss?”
“I’ll pull some strings and we’ll make it a special request direct from the DA’s office. It might take a couple days to clear it through the channels upstairs, but it will get done. My advice to you right now is to go home. Emily has twenty-four hour, armed protection. Get some rest. See your brother. See your dad, too. You may be gone for awhile.”
For a change, Jane took Weyler’s advice. She went home and slept for twelve hours. It was past 1:30 p.m. when Jane woke up on Sunday. She’d left several messages on Mike’s answering machine, each one becoming more and more insistent that he return her calls. He’d been spending most Saturday nights at her place and Sunday was typically relegated to nursing their dual hangovers and watching whatever sport dominated the TV. Jane had to assume that Mike had tied one on and was passed out somewhere in the vicinity of the toilet.
Jane’s sense of duty reared its predicable head. By five o’ clock, she was headed over to Mike’s brick bungalow located five miles across town. There was no sign of her brother’s pickup truck on the street. She figured it was parked at whatever bar he visited the night before and she would spend the remaining part of her Sunday tracking it down. Jane was just about to leave when Mike drove up, wedging his truck in a space behind her Mustang. She got out of her car just as Mike and a pretty, blond, long-haired woman got out of his truck.
“Hey, Janie!” Mike said with a happy sound to his voice.
“Hi,” Jane responded, restrained and distrustful.
“Janie, this is Lisa.” Mike turned to Lisa. “I’ve been telling Lisa all about you and how you solve murders and everything.”
“Is that right?” Jane said, eyeing Lisa up and down.
Lisa moved closer to Jane. She was an attractive girl, neatly dressed in a modest white cotton top and pink skirt that skimmed her knees. Her straight blond hair was pulled back on the side with two barrettes. Jane noticed her shoes—a pair of espadrilles that matched her pink skirt. Lisa had a clear sparkle in her blue eyes and a sweet smile. Okay, Jane thought. What’s the catch? Mike’s choice in women had always proved tenuous at best. Usually, Jane could spot the weak link within less than a minute of meeting them. But this one was tricky. Jane wondered if her recent emotional upheaval was overriding her “bullshit radar” with Lisa.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Jane,” Lisa said, extending her hand. Jane hesitated before shaking Lisa’s hand with the enthusiasm one would bestow on one’s executioner. “Mike speaks highly of you.”
“Uh-huh,” was all Jane could manage.
“You know,” Lisa continued, “it’s ironic about you being a detective. My older brother, Jeff, is a private investigator. It’s nothing too exciting, just fraud cases and husbands cheating on wives—”
“Her brother used to be a bounty hunter!” Mike interjected. “Isn’t that cool?”
“He blew out his knee taking down too many outlaws so he had to settle for a more sedate form of law enforcement. I bet you and he would have lots to talk about!”
Jane observed Lisa, reacting with a stone face. While she couldn’t find anything wrong with the girl, Jane was damned if she was going to act civil. Jane turned to Mike, “I’ve been trying to get you on the phone for over four hours. I was starting to worry.”
“There’s nothin’ to worry about, Janie,” Mike said offhandedly.
“Well, I figured Sunday morning after Saturday night. You know the rest.”
Mike looked over at Lisa, a little embarrassed by Jane’s comment. “Oh, no . . .”
“What?” Jane said as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. She was starting to feeling like the odd man out and not enjoying it.
“We were at the art show,” Mike quickly stated. “They got that Memorial Day Weekend thing in the park. Lisa makes this really cool jewelry out of copper and brass. You’ve got to see it sometime, Janie. It’s just beautiful.”
Lisa put her arm around Mike lovingly. “Mike’s my biggest fan.”
“Yeah,” Jane said, treating Lisa more like a suspect. “I see that.”
“Hey, I’m not the only fan!” Mike said, nudging Lisa. “Lisa’s got these friends from her group who have a booth at the art show in the park. They’re showcasing some of her stuff this weekend and she’s already sold two necklaces and three bracelets. I’m tellin’ you, Janie, she’s gonna be famous one day. You gotta get yourself one of her pieces while you can still afford it.”
“Mike!” Lisa seemed genuinely chagrined.
Jane felt herself boiling inside as she watched the back and forth, flirtatious body language between Lisa and Mike. “Mike!” Jane said quickly. “I need to talk to you—”
“I’ll go in the house and you guys can have some privacy,” Lisa replied, turning to Jane. “If I don’t get a chance to say good-bye, it was a pleasure meeting you,” she said with a sincere smile before heading to Mike’s front door.
Mike watched her walk away, a sappy smile pasted across his face. He was totally in his own world as he turned back to Jane. “Isn’t she great, Janie?”
“Let’s go for a walk,” Jane said.
Mike sidled up alongside Jane. “What’s up?” he asked.
“I gotta go away for a while. It has to do with work.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know yet. And even when I do, I can’t tell you.”
“Wow. Sounds important.” Mike’s attitude clearly demonstrated that he wasn’t that impressed by the news.
“Mike? Did you hear me? I’m going away and I might be gone for a while.”
“Yeah, okay, Janie. I’ll go to your house and pick up your newspapers and water your lawn. Hey, you know what? Lisa has got a green thumb. How about if I bring her over to your house and we plant some pretty flowers around that pathway. I think it would really brighten it up—”
“What in the fuck has gotten into you!” Jane said, stopping in her tracks. “Jesus Christ! You’re like some love struck puppy!”
“Okay, we won’t plant any flowers! We’ll just come over and water and—”
“You keep her the fuck away from my place!”
“Why?”
“Because, I don’t know anything about her!”
“She’s a good woman!”
“How the hell do you know, Mike? You’ve known her how long? She’s like all your other girlfriends—
”
“No, she’s not!” Mike said defiantly. “I told you the other day, she’s different!”
“Fuck that!”
“She is! Why can’t you accept that?”
“Because that has never been the way it is!”
“Janie,” Mike struggled a bit before he spoke. “Don’t do this, okay?”
“Don’t do what?”
“I don’t need you to get in my face so much.”
“If I didn’t get in your face, God only knows what would happen to you.”
“What’s gonna happen to me?”
“Anything and everything! You have no idea, Mike!”
“Janie, you gotta pull back.”
“I can’t pull back!”
“What are you talking about?”
Jane looked upward, as if the right words were painted on the sky. “Things happen, Mike. Awful, sick things happen. It is my job to make sure you don’t get hurt. It has always been my job. You’ll never know how seriously I take that job.”
Mike thought for a second and then spoke. “What if you just quit the job.”
Jane let out an exaggerated groan. “Mike, when are you gonna grow up?”
“When are you gonna let me?”
“Excuse me?” she replied, sounding more like a parent than a sister.
Mike was reticent but forced himself to press on. “I have opinions about things that you might not agree with.”
“Name one!”
“Well . . . I think . . . No. I know I have a drinking problem.”
“A drinking problem? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I think you do, too.”
Mike’s words hit Jane hard. “Really?” There was a sarcastic turn to her voice.
“You’ve got to admit that you . . . we have downed a lot of alcohol.”
“We’re white, single and over 21!”
“I think we’re alcoholics.”
Jane surveyed her brother carefully. “This is not you talking, Mike. This is someone else. Somebody has gotten to you. What? Have you found God?”
“There’s nothing wrong with God, Janie.”
“I knew it!”
