An Eye for an Eye

by Caroline Fardig

  “I know. Want me to find him and grill him for you?”

  I smiled. Good old Sam. Always willing to go to bat for me, or at least get in the middle of some juicy relationship gossip. “Nah, this is one conversation that probably needs to be more official.” I hesitated for a moment. “Thanks, Sam. For everything you’re doing. And Rich, too. We can use all the help we can get right now.”

  “We’re more than happy to. By the way, don’t worry about classes or finals or anything. Rich and I have it managed for you, so don’t give it a second thought. He already hacked into your computer and found your tests for next week. And I spoke to Rachel’s professors, who all said she’s exempt from finals this semester.”

  I was floored. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”

  “I’d do anything for you two. You know that, right?” Her voice broke, and I had to fight to keep my emotions in check.

  “I know. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  After hanging up, I went back to the conference room. “That was my friend Samantha. She and another Ashmore professor have been canvassing and found that Rachel made an appearance around one PM at Java Roasters, which is just off campus. She mentioned to the barista that she was getting coffee for herself and a date.”

  Baxter looked up. “Is she still dating that pervert dorm director?”

  “As far as I know. In all the confusion, I didn’t even think to check with him to find out if he’d seen Rachel today.”

  Baxter stood. “I want to talk to him, as well as the staff at that coffeehouse. Do you know if they’re still open? It’s past ten.”

  “They cater to college kids. They’re open until midnight every day.”

  He stuffed some loose papers into a file, which he handed to me. “Here. You can read some incident reports to me on the way so we don’t waste any time. Sterling, you got this?”

  Not looking up from the file he was perusing, Sterling gave Baxter the finger.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “I guess I’ll start with the first domestic disturbance call from the Fox household, which was placed five months before the murder occurred. Looks like Leann Fox made this call.” From the passenger seat of Baxter’s fast-moving SUV, I used my phone’s flashlight to skim the police report and relay the highlights aloud. “She stated that her husband was drunk and smashing items in the house and that she was afraid for her and her son’s safety. Once the police got there, though, the two of them were talking calmly and nothing seemed amiss aside from some broken dishes and a busted dining room chair.”

  “Any mention of signs of the wife or child sustaining any physical abuse?”

  I speed-read the rest of the report. “No, nothing.”

  “On to the next one, then.”

  I flipped to the next report. “This one is from February of that year, a month later. This report shows that the hospital initiated the call to the police when Leann’s neighbor brought her to the ER for a broken wrist. The neighbor stated that he heard yelling coming from the Foxes’ backyard. When he went outside and peeked over the fence, he found Leann Fox on the ground, holding her wrist. She told him she slipped on some ice, but he didn’t believe her. He insisted on taking her to the ER. The hospital staff noticed that her wrist had a handprint around it, which made them suspect abuse even though she told them repeatedly that she’d fallen.”

  “Great. Another instance of a victim covering for her abuser,” Baxter griped, turning a corner so sharply I almost dumped the file sitting on my lap.

  “Speaking of covering things up, do you think that the abuse had gone on prior to this slew of calls?”

  “I would assume it probably had, unless there was some kind of catalyst that caused a sudden and major breakdown in their relationship.”

  “It would have to be monumental to kick-start this list of atrocities. Moving on, the third call came from the same neighbor, only two weeks later. And since the last incident had had some question of assault, they sent out detectives—Jayne and Frank—to check it out. Evidently the neighbor heard yelling again and wasn’t taking any chances. The fight was still going strong when Jayne and Frank got there, so they got to hear some of it. The Foxes were arguing about how the husband hadn’t made any effort to find a new job after losing his old one, and how he spent his days at the local bar instead of doing anything productive.”

  “Sounds like a great guy. Tell me again why we’re busting our asses to exonerate this shitshow, when it doesn’t even matter anymore because he’s dead?”

  “Whoa, there. Have you forgotten how our partnership works, Nick? I’m the one who gets to throw around the pissy remarks while you talk me down off the ledge.”

  He grinned. “I’m sorry. I’ll keep my pissy remarks to myself from now on.”

  “See that you do. Looks like no evidence of any physical abuse this time, although after only two weeks, Leann’s wrist would still have been hurting.”

  “Right. A broken bone—the gift that keeps on giving.”

  “What did I just say about the pissy remarks?”

  “That was some of my terrible gallows humor.”

  “Oh, yeah. I nearly forgot about your bad jokes. I haven’t heard as many of them this time.”

  Shrugging, he said, “Well, there’s a time and place for everything. But I’m flattered that you seem to have missed my wittiness.”

  I shook my head and turned to the next report. “Domestic disturbance number four.” I read the beginning of the report and chuckled. “You’re gonna love this one. Mr. Shitshow called the cops on Mrs. Shitshow. Said she hit him in the head with a frying pan.”

  “Now you’re just making stuff up. That’s so cliché.”

  “It’s true. It says so right here. Martinez handled that one.”

  “I bet he laughed his ass off.”

  “Yes, but more importantly, that gives us another person with some insight into the Fox family. We need to have a sit-down with him at some point.”

  “We do. Next.”

  I perused the next report, my fleeting bit of good humor fading back into the depression I’d been stuck in all week. “Number five was no laughing matter. Leann Fox didn’t show up for work one day, so her boss, aware of the history of abuse, immediately called the police. The first responder who went out for this one found Leann naked, gagged, and tied to the bed. Husband and son were not in the house.”

  I happened to glance over at Baxter at that point, and even in the meager light of my phone’s flashlight, I could see his cheeks getting red. The man could not talk about sex with me.

  Continuing to give him the highlights of the report, I said, “Because of the sexual nature of the incident, Jayne and Frank took over the investigation, but Leann refused to be examined by a sexual assault nurse, even though there was some irritation around the ligature marks on her wrists and ankles. She insisted that she’d asked to be tied up tight and that bondage was a normal part of their sex life. When they asked her why she’d been left like that, she said she and her husband had lost track of time and he’d had to run to take their son to school. She refused to press any charges against her husband and even tried to laugh it off as a big misunderstanding. Frank found the husband at a bar a few hours later, dead drunk, with no recollection of tying Leann up.” I sighed. “Again with the bullshit. I guarantee she didn’t ask to be tied up, because she didn’t have time for it. She had a kid to get ready for school. Let me tell you, when I’m scrambling in the morning to get myself to work and help Rachel get Nate ready to go to daycare, the last thing on my mind is sex.” I shook my head. “When kids are involved, your morning routine is set in stone. No deviations. You don’t ‘lose track of time.’ ”

  “It’s no wonder this guy went down for the murder. The signs are all here—verbal, emotional, sexual, and physical abuse. And every time, it gets covered up and she refuses to press charges. He knew he could do damn near anything to her and get away with i
t.”

  Worry taking over my thoughts, I said, “What if the guy really is guilty and we have to go back and tell Justin Fox that he was wrong about his dad? What will happen to Rachel then?”

  Baxter had just pulled into the parking lot by Harris Hall. He placed his hand over mine. “The plan is to use this case to figure out all we can about Justin Fox and find him first. There has to be someone from his past who knows where he’s been all these years.”

  “But if that doesn’t work—”

  “If it doesn’t work, then…” He shrugged. “We’ll throw some random low-life under the bus. Say he did it.”

  My jaw dropped. “Nick Baxter! You cannot do that.”

  He squeezed my hand. “You’re not the only one who’s willing to do something crazy to save your sister.”

  Baxter released my hand and got out of his vehicle, leaving me in shock. I didn’t think a straight shooter like him would resort to such questionable tactics, but then again, this wasn’t just any case. Justin Fox had declared war on Hamilton County law enforcement. They were clearly prepared to take him down by any means necessary.

  I stepped down from the SUV and fell into step with Baxter on the sidewalk leading to Fenton Hall, where Rachel’s boyfriend, Tony Dante, was the dorm director. We headed for his office. After a minute’s worth of knocking at his door, a group of boys walked by and huffily informed us that Tony had been holed up in his room most of the week and was not making himself available to help with student issues.

  Once Baxter flashed his badge, they let us into the locked dormitory floors and gave us directions to Tony’s room.

  Baxter pounded on Tony’s door and called, “Tony Dante, this is Detective Baxter with the Hamilton County Sheriff’s Office. Open up.”

  After a few moments, a disheveled and distraught Tony answered the door. When he saw us, he immediately shrunk back from Baxter and turned his frightened eyes at me. “Is it true about Rachel? Is she—” He bit back a sob.

  I had to admit I didn’t take the time to think about how Rachel’s disappearance would affect her boyfriend, such as he was. For one thing, I didn’t believe that he had it in him to be particularly faithful to her, so I couldn’t imagine he cared too much about her. Plus, he was a total sleaze, never passing up the opportunity to hit on any female he came in contact with.

  Baxter said, “She’s missing, yes. And we believe that the Eye for an Eye killer may have something to do with her disappearance.”

  Tears welled up in Tony’s eyes. He muttered to himself, “I wish she wouldn’t have… If I’d only been there…”

  “What do you mean if you’d been there? Were you supposed to meet her today? Did you flake out on her and leave her vulnerable?” I demanded. “When was the last time you saw her?”

  He hung his head. “I haven’t seen her since she dumped me on Tuesday.”

  I stared at him. “She dumped you? I mean, not that I’m not happy to hear it, but why?”

  Shrugging, Tony looked from me to Baxter with sad eyes. “She said that I didn’t challenge her and make her feel alive.”

  Baxter asked, “Did she say if there was someone else who did?”

  “She didn’t come out and say that she was interested in someone else, but I had the feeling she was. Rachel isn’t the type of person who’d cheat, so I was kind of assuming she’d met someone she wanted to get to know better and decided to cut me loose so she could do that.”

  It was true—Rachel was no cheater. She’d watched our mother manipulate men and be manipulated by men all her life and vowed never to be like that. She might have made bad choices about which men to date, but she was never cruel to them, even when they’d been cruel to her.

  Baxter said, “Just to be clear, you did not have plans to meet her this afternoon at one PM at Java Roasters, correct?”

  Tony sighed. “That’s correct.”

  Baxter shot me a worried glance. In that moment, I stopped thinking about the demise of Rachel and Tony’s relationship and realized exactly what he was thinking—this new guy Rachel was interested in could very well be Justin Fox.

  My hand flew to my open mouth, and Baxter grabbed my arm, throwing a “Thanks, Mr. Dante,” over his shoulder and steering me toward the stairwell.

  Questions started pouring out of my mouth as we thundered down the stairs. “Why didn’t Rachel tell me she’d broken up with Tony? Why didn’t she tell me about the new guy? Why didn’t she realize that she was dating a sociopath?”

  Baxter said, “We don’t know for sure that she was dating our killer.”

  “Don’t blow smoke up my ass, Baxter. I can see it all over your face.”

  “Okay, so maybe she was dating him. But didn’t you say how personable the guy was when you talked to him? Maybe he’s charming like Ted Bundy.”

  “Ted Bundy? You’re making me feel worse, not better.”

  We exited Fenton Hall and hurried back to the SUV.

  Baxter said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make a frightening analogy. I only meant that he’s exceptionally good at getting young women to believe he’s the perfect guy. It’s one of a sociopath’s best skills. And as for telling you about dumping that idiot we just talked to—why do you think Rachel kept that to herself?”

  I frowned as we got in Baxter’s vehicle and he pulled out of the parking lot. “What? Are you saying that she didn’t want to tell me because I’d gloat and say ‘I told you so’?”

  “No offense, but that’s exactly what I’m saying. Don’t forget I was with you when you found out the two of them were dating. I had to physically restrain you from beating the shit out of him.”

  I groaned. “When did I become that sister—the one Rachel can’t come to for advice and understanding?”

  “From what I gather, it was Tony Dante that was the problem, not your sisterly bond. If she mentioned a new guy she was interested in, you’d put it together that she was dumping Dante.”

  I griped, “Freaking Tony Dante strikes again. If she’d been dating anyone but him, she would have gladly told me about moving on with someone else. But no. This is the one time that it matters, and I’m in the dark. Damn it!” I hit the dashboard. “And more important than any of this, how in the hell did she not recognize Justin Fox from his photo and sketch that’s been plastered everywhere since Tuesday morning?”

  Baxter pulled into the parking lot behind Java Roasters. “You saw the video he sent. He transformed his appearance entirely. I didn’t recognize him at all. Maybe he didn’t seek out Rachel until after he’d made the change. Or maybe he was wearing a disguise in your office.”

  I shook my head. “No, the hair and beard weren’t fake. I sat across from him for thirty minutes. I would have noticed.”

  We got out of the vehicle and went inside. The place was warm and inviting, adorned with rustic Christmas decorations in keeping with the shabby chic coffeehouse vibe. How many times I’d met Rachel or Sam here for coffee—we’d relax in the overstuffed chairs by the window without a care in the world. Now I felt like I shouldn’t be here. It felt wrong to be in such a comforting place when I knew where Rachel would be spending tonight.

  While I was lagging behind, Baxter had already gone up to the counter and flashed his badge. One of the baristas left her post behind the counter and came around to meet him at a table. I walked over and took a seat with them.

  “This is my partner, Ellie Matthews,” he said to her. To me, he said, “This is Sophie King. She served Rachel her coffee this afternoon.”

  Sophie’s lower lip trembled. “I didn’t know she was missing until about thirty minutes ago. I’m so sorry. There aren’t any TVs in here, and we’re not allowed to be on our phones during our shifts. I had no idea anything was wrong until those two professors came in and—” Her eyes widening, she stopped abruptly and stared at me. “Wait, I recognize you. You’re in here a lot with…her.”

  I cleared my throat. “Rachel is my sister.”

  She covered her mouth w
ith a trembling hand. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine—”

  I interrupted her. “I appreciate your concern, Sophie. Thank you. Can you tell us everything about Rachel’s visit here today? Start from when she walked in the door to when she left—as much as you can remember. No detail is too insignificant, even if it’s a feeling you had about her demeanor.”

  Sophie nodded. “She came in and…well, I remember thinking to myself that she seemed kind of sad. But once she placed her order and said that the second coffee was for her date, her face lit up.” She sniffed. “She has such a pretty smile. Anyway, I took the next customer’s order, and then she was back at the counter, saying she’d had a change of plans and that she was going to need her two coffees to go. I happened to glance up and see her walk out the front door a few minutes later.”

  “Was she alone the whole time she was in here?” Baxter asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What made her change her mind about the coffee? Did she get a call or a text?”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know. I was busy taking the next customer’s order.”

  He glanced around the room. “Do you have any surveillance cameras in here or outside?”

  “We have a camera outside, but it’s not really for surveillance, I don’t think. We use it to see how backed up the drive-thru line is.”

  Baxter glanced at me. “We need to see that.”

  Sophie rose from the table. “I’ll get the manager.”

  Baxter keyed in a quick text and turned to me. “I’m going to have Sterling find out if Rachel got a call or text around one and where it came from.” When I didn’t respond, he said, “I know what we learned here maybe isn’t a lot, but at least now we have a timeframe nailed down. I have to say, this guy is smart. With the exception of Michaela Richards, he hasn’t abducted his other marks outright, which could cause a scene and make him memorable to bystanders. With Jenna and Rachel, he took his time and got to know them. He pretended to take them out on a date, and then I assume he instead drove them to wherever he ended up holding them.”