With the extra magnification, Noah tried to follow the looping line. The first letter was definitely a ‘C.’ He used his finger to trace out the rest of the signature.
Captain America.
Shit. He should have known.
Now all he had to do was return two cardboard boxes to the Assad’s attic and he could go home to Sweet Pea.
The drive out to Katy wasn’t a waste. He’d learned one important thing—other than never go to Mrs. Assad’s hairdresser. There was no longer any doubt. Someone had planned and prepared for these murders ten years ago.
And was still operating in his city.
Noah checked in with Crime Scene when he left Assad’s house, but the news wasn’t good. They had found nothing. Nada. Zip.
No indication of where the latest victim was taken. No blood. No spilled backpack. No sign of a struggle anywhere in the two block area.
About what he’d expected, but still disappointing.
He had a good idea of how the abduction went down. From the little he knew of Constanza, she was a naive, friendly girl. The Sanitizer would have approached her in a non-threatening way—holding out a piece of paper and asking directions or saying it had fallen out of her backpack.
She would let him come near and then, POW. He would punch her in the face, coldcock her. As she sagged or passed out, he would scoop her up before she hit the ground and shove her into the van. The whole episode would take ten seconds, maximum.
Her broken jaw and split lip told the story. He didn’t want to think about what came next for her. The thirty-six hours she was missing. The swollen eye. The chaffed wrists. The bruises.
All of that could wait for morning. Now he needed to go home. Pet his dog. Check on his neighbor. Maybe call his sister. Or Laurel.
His job was to investigate, period. Yet, this time he’d discovered two of the bodies. That made it personal. Each new thing he learned about the victims—the childhood abuse, the neglect, the hope for a better future—made it harder to separate work from real life.
And everything he learned about the Sanitizer made him more determined to close this case before the killer struck again.
Conner worked the same cases he did, yet realized the importance of compartmentalizing. It was time he learned it, or relearned it, also.
All work and no play might be a cliché, but he’d found out the hard way. Never taking a break or getting his mind off murder, led him into a deep dark depression. One that was hard to climb out of alone.
Harvey the invisible cat had been fed. He’d even rubbed against Laurel’s ankles while she filled his bowl. Wonder of wonders.
She’d finished her Lean Cuisine dinner and topped it off with a double scoop of raspberry sorbet when the phone rang. She was in the middle of brushing her teeth so she wouldn’t be tempted to eat anything else.
Her boss was due to call and let her know if he got back into town, yet she paused to check the caller ID before answering. Last time it had been her mother and she didn’t want to make that mistake again.
Daugherty, N
His landline, not his cell. Was that a good sign or a bad sign? She bit her lip as she hit accept.
For most people, a cell phone was more intimate, but Noah used his so much at work, she guessed it was the opposite.
“Hey, how was your day?” She really had to come up with better things to say.
“Pretty busy. We found another body yesterday afternoon.”
“I saw that on TV.” That’s why she wasn’t surprised when he didn’t call last night and hadn’t expected to hear from him today. “That guy had some gall, using the same burial grounds.”
“I still haven’t decided if he’s stupid or brilliant. Conner and I shouldn’t have been in that field, but this dweeby little tech guy asked us to look for cattails. A couple of the graves contained traces of them.”
“So he might have gotten away with it?”
“Maybe, who knows? Can I tell you something I haven’t mentioned to Conner or anyone else?”
“Sure.” Half of her was thrilled he wanted to share something personal, the other half was afraid to hear what it could be.
“I’ve worked Homicide for a long time. I’ve chased killers who were nasty people full of hate or greed or envy or jealousy or just plain screwed up, but this is the first one who actually scares me. He’s not like the others. He’s evil. I know that’s a strong word, but it’s the feeling I get every time I come close to him. And I’m scared to death he’ll slip away and start somewhere new.”
She’d liked Noah from the first day she met him. He was sweet, helping her with her divorce and with getting Crystal’s brother into rehab. He was funny, making her laugh with a dry sense of humor or an off-beat observation. He was strong, dependable, trustworthy. All attributes Paul didn’t have.
But she’d never realized he was deep. And she liked it. “So far, this has been a game for me. Playing detective. Looking up records. Feeling like I’m helping. I can’t imagine what you must deal with every day. It’s no wonder he scares you. You know what he’s capable of.”
“I didn’t mean to dump my problems on you.” His voice cracked slightly. “That was just an observation.”
“No. I’m glad you told me. I like to understand your work. By the way, I traced down that paperwork you gave me. I’ve come up with a list of names and have phone numbers for some of them, but not all. Not sure if my boss will be in the office tomorrow or not, but I’ll finish if I can.”
“Why don’t you wait and give it to me when I pick you up Sunday night? We’ve got enough stuff to keep us busy until then.”
Good thing he couldn’t see her as she did a fist pump. She’d been so sure he called to break their date.
They talked another fifteen minutes and didn’t mention the case once.
Noah let the box of donuts precede him through the door. That way, not one person in the squad complained when he was twenty minutes late. Lefty Bob was digging into a chocolate cream before Noah had time to reach his desk.
“I stopped by the donut shop where Constanza worked and got her full name and address.” He slapped a piece of paper in front of Conner.
His partner studied the paper for a moment before pushing a similar sheet toward Noah. “That’s funny because I stopped at the school where she was studying for her GED last night and got a different name and address.”
Well, didn’t that suck?
“I got Constanza Villanova on Demarte Street. But the donut guy called her Connie.”
“I got Constanza Guerra with a nonexistent address on Barremore. The other students called her Connie.”
“I haven’t had a chance to check out the Demarte address, but I’ll buy you a steak dinner if it’s legitimate. As for the name, we can be pretty sure the Constanza part is correct. She’s used it twice and it’s on those birthday cards.”
“While both last names may be fake, I lean toward Guerra. For the GED certificate to do her any good, the name needed to be correct.”
He agreed with Conner on that. Why go to school if you couldn’t claim the degree? So they were back to square one. Even if they did learn her legal name, what difference did it make? They were no closer to finding her killer.
“I found something else last night that’s going to be about as much help as those non-existent addresses. I stopped by Assad’s house and picked up the cashier’s check form. You’ll never guess who signed it. Captain America.”
“Great. Besides being a killer, our guy’s a real joker.”
“I sent it over to fingerprints. Hard to act casual and avoid touching the form when you’re filling it out in public. Also, it gives us a sample of his handwriting. Maybe we’ll get lucky. Might be interesting to see if any of the prints match the ones on R.J. Perry’s letter. Especially those of Mr. Perry himself.”
Lt. Jansen appeared in his doorway. “Daugherty, Crawford, Hernandez. My office.”
Noah followed the others as they took their
usual places. Conner and Lefty Bob sat, Jansen parked a hip against his desk, and Noah leaned against the wall.
“Where are we on the Sanitizer case? The Chronicle published the letter this morning and I’d like to be up-to-speed when the calls start flooding in.”
Noah waited, but neither of the other detectives jumped in. “We’ve got the name of our latest victim. We know where she lived and where he abducted her, but that doesn’t put us any closer to finding him. We also know this was all planned ten years ago. We don’t know if he actually owns the land, but he’s been paying taxes on it this whole time. We suspect he had something to do with the ownership of that apartment building, but don’t have any proof.”
“Well, get some proof. And track down the owners. You’ve had a week. You’ll have to do it on your own. Earl flunked his tests and will be taking disability. He’s coming by this afternoon to clear out his desk and complete the paperwork.”
Damn. He’d like to dig up Aldo Rogers and kill him again. For what he’d done to Earl and what he’d done to Conner.
Noah cleared his throat and hoped no one would ask too many questions. “I have someone working on tracking down names and numbers on those properties. I understand real estate can be tricky if you don’t know the ins and outs.”
Jansen and Lefty Bob nodded, not interested in the details. Conner turned his head and Noah could have sworn he was holding back a laugh.
“Okay then.” Jansen crossed behind his desk and sat. “Get out of here and get to work. Bring me anything you have the minute you have it.”
“We need a plan. Anyone have a suggestion?” Noah wasn’t above asking for ideas. He was certainly short on them at the moment.
He, Conner, and Lefty Bob sat around a table in the break room, holding cups of bad coffee. Noah took a sip and pushed it away. It didn’t even smell like real coffee. More like toast burned to a crisp and dunked in water.
Lefty Bob finished his coffee. Didn’t the guy have any taste buds at all? “Why don’t I go back to Constanza’s neighborhood with a photo of that van? See if anyone noticed it prowling the area.”
“Good idea. I doubt our guy was dumb enough to let his face be seen, but you’ve got to try. I’d love to know if he scouted areas first or if it was all random. Conner, you got anything?”
“We still need a positive ID on Dancing Queen cheerleader, but for the moment any information on Constanza is more time sensitive. Why don’t I phone Lincoln Montgomery and have him follow up with the prison. Meanwhile, I could head over to Demarte Street and ask around. Someone might know Constanza. She got the address from somewhere. It won’t help us solve the case, but I’d like to be able to notify her relatives, if she has any.”
Noah waited, but Conner didn’t move. He knew that look. “You have something else on your mind?”
“I do, but you’re not going to like it. What do you think about releasing the drawings of the victims and the white van to the news media? If we could get an identification, we’d have another area to search. I’d sure like to get a better fix on this guy. Does he hang around one part of town? Does he have a favorite hunting ground we could stake out?”
“You’re right, I don’t like it, but I’ll go along with that. I hate to give those vultures anything, but it’s time. We can’t keep them off our backs forever and with that letter from the Sanitizer out there, they’ll be after us like a pack of hungry dogs. Ready to go for our throats if we don’t feed them something. But only the last three victims. Their drawings are the most accurate and the most likely to bring results. And not the van.”
Conner scooted his chair back and dropped his half-finished coffee in the trash. “I understand the victims, but why not the van?”
“It’s our only solid lead. If the guy ditches it, we may not be able to prove anything, even if we catch him. We can always put it out there in a day or two. You guys head out. Fingerprints promised to call me by noon. It’ll take me that long to get the drawings sent to the right people.”
It would also give him a reason to call R.J. Perry. He didn’t trust the guy. Any excuse to keep close tabs on him was a godsend.
Two hours later, Noah had sent the forensic artist’s renderings of Joyce, Kathy, and Lucy to local, state, and national news outlets.
The crazies had started calling about the Sanitizer’s letter. Noah took five calls and quit. The man might be Satan, but that didn’t help in locating him. And the calls claiming the man was doing local communities a favor by cleaning up trash, well, he didn’t care to speak to those people.
Fingerprints hadn’t called yet, but they had another hour until their deadline.
Any logo identifying the maker of the white van was missing or not visible in the photos, but the department had stacks of books with photos showing examples of cars and trucks and vans.
Noah sat with two photos of the van beside him and studied every example. After an hour, his back hurt, his eyes burned, and his stomach rolled from too much coffee.
But he might, just maybe, have an answer.
Now what? Everyone questioned so far claimed not to have noticed the van at all, so that was no help. There was one phone call he could make, but odds were slim after all these years.
“Sleeman Cement.” The pink-haired girl sounded just as perky as she had the day he and Conner went out there.
“Hi. This is Detective Noah Daugherty. My partner and I were out there last week. I hate to bother you, but is Luis on the lot today? Could I speak to him? It’s important.”
“I’ll get him for you. It may take a few minutes.” She didn’t sound nearly as excited as when she thought he was a customer.
Before she put him on hold, he could hear her on the intercom. “Luis, please report to the office. Luis, to the office. Thank you.”
At least she added the thank you before the elevator music started.
Luis must not have felt the need to hurry, because Noah quit timing the wait after five minutes.
“Good morning, Detective. This is Luis.” He sounded pleasant at any rate. Probably happy for the excuse to come into the air conditioning.
“Morning, Luis. I had one question I didn’t think to ask you before and you may not remember. Do you have any idea the make or year of the van Big Dick drove?”
“Brand spanking new Mercedes, white as my mamma’s hair. That was the joke around the lot. Who would drive a Mercedes where they were pouring cement? New car, new tools, new clothes. Someone sent their baby boy off to his new job well-equipped. Too bad he was useless as tits on a shark.”
“You only told me he was a jerk. You never mentioned he didn’t know what he was doing.”
“Oh, yeah. Had us pour in the wrong place a couple of times. Then wanted us to correct it for free. Old Mr. Sleeman told him to f-off. He didn’t put up with that type of mierda. Whole project was riddled with errors. One of the reasons it went so far over budget.”
Noah felt a smile threaten for the first time that day. You never knew when the pieces would fall together.
The plastic cover of Conner’s cardboard vending machine sandwich peeled away with a sluppp, allowing the disgusting odor of day old pimento and cheese to drift out. Irritation gnawed at him as Lefty Bob bit into pulled pork barbecue on a hamburger bun. The man must have stopped at a drive thru on his way back to the office.
Would he have bought something for himself and not the others?
No, but Lefty had four kids and an ex-wife. Was that the reason he was cheap or the reason he had an ex-wife?
Lefty wiped the sauce off the corner of his mouth with a napkin the size of a Post-it note. “I’m tired of busting my butt for nothing. Nobody admitted seeing the van. Claimed the area was swimming with vans and they didn’t know one from another.”
Conner couldn’t blame him. A working-class neighborhood. Lots of self-employed yard men, window washers, painters, handymen. Plenty of vans. He’d had a little more luck, but so what?
“Constanza did live at th
e Demarte Street address.” He glanced at Noah. “So you owe me a steak. Three girls, same last name, supposedly cousins, shared a two-room apartment, bathroom down the hall. The other two girls worked in a sweatshop and were caught up in an immigration raid and sent back to Mexico. Constanza worked somewhere else, maybe the donut shop, but she hid out. Never came back. The landlord, creepy guy. If I’d had a warrant, I’d have checked the bathroom for a camera. He kept a box of the girl’s belongings. I brought it back to the station. Maybe I can figure out where they went.”
He already knew the box didn’t contain a toaster, a coffee pot, a sauce pan, or a warm coat. Anything worth more than two dollars was undoubtedly in the landlord’s pocket.
Noah tossed his tuna sandwich in the trash and opened his bag of chips. “The Lieu assigned that rookie, Kevin Gilmore, to take the calls about the Sanitizer. Poor guy, he’s going to learn fast. I only took a few of them and want to wash my ears out with lye soap. Latent prints called. They didn’t pull up any fulls from the cashier’s check form, but got a couple of partials and they don’t match R.J. Perry or any from the letter.”
Conner perked up. This was something new. “So we’re eliminating Perry?”
Noah sighed and pulled on his ear. For some reason, his partner had a hard-on for Perry and wasn’t going to give up on him easily. “Not eliminating him, but dropping him to the bottom of the list.”
“List? We have a list? Last I heard, Perry was it.” Had Noah learned something he hadn’t shared yet?
Noah opened a notebook to a page full of vans and set the photo they had taken for the bodega video beside it. “Everybody agree this is a 2007 Mercedes van?”
They looked the same to Conner, but he let Lefty Bob study the photos.
“I’d like it better if we had a good shot of the front or back, but from what I can see, yeah You found it. Good work.” Lefty pushed the book back toward Noah.
“Luis from the cement company says the job foreman on the apartment project, Big Dick, drove one like this, white. I know it’s been ten years, but this type of van would last that long, easy. Especially if it wasn’t driven that often. I think we’re looking for a tall Caucasian male in his mid-thirties.”
Autumn Secrets (Seasons Pass Book 4) Page 18
