“Such as it is,” Vivienne commented on the car-crash appeal this case would have to many folks who would work on it in the days to come.
“I called the NYPD precinct that took the missing persons report and filled them in. They aren't all that concerned and just want to be kept in the loop. They're emailing me the original report so we can take a look at what her friends said.”
Ian paused and, for a moment, stared at his large hand lying across her leg. “What do you think the chances are that Rebecca's disappearance has nothing to do with the body you found?” He knew the answer. He knew it in his gut. But he needed to hear her opinion. Her opinion that held so much more experience than his in this type of death.
He glanced up when she sighed. “I've seen stranger things happen. TV shows are always making comments about coincidences not being coincidences, but weird things do happen. It's possible the two things are completely unrelated.”
He searched Vivienne's eyes, forcing her to say what she wasn't saying. She bit her lower lip and turned to look out the window. “I can't give you any stats, but I would be surprised if they weren't related. Two women who look alike, both with ties to this area, one recently missing and one long dead. It doesn't look good.”
“We don't know that the Jane Doe has ties to this area.”
“No, we don't, but it's not really about her having ties in the traditional sense to Windsor, it's about the killer having ties here and extending those, even in death, to the victims.”
Ian went back to her wounds for several minutes. When the last splinter he could see was out, he wiped her leg clean with an antiseptic cloth and bandaged the whole area. He mulled the case over in his own mind—who, what, why—and as the questions faded and he acknowledged he had no answers, Ian realized he'd been lost in thought.
Looking down, he found his left hand resting on Vivienne's bare inner thigh. He hadn't even noticed that his other hand had been rubbing her calf. And she hadn't moved or said a word. He turned to meet her gaze.
Her dark brown eyes, open and frank, met his. The end of her damp ponytail fell over her bare shoulder. He felt her watching him as his eyes traveled, unbidden, from her face to her shoulders, down over the beach towel, under which he knew she was naked, then back up again—pausing for a moment on the little knot holding the towel together above her breasts. It would be so easy to get lost, to make it all go away, if only for an hour or two. And she looked like she knew it, too.
“Dinner,” Ian said, clearing his throat and forcing himself to extricate his body from hers. “Why don't you get dressed,” he said, gesturing to the clothes he'd grabbed from his sister's dresser, “and come into the kitchen. I'll throw some steaks on the grill.”
Vivienne nodded and he left, fighting the urge to go back to her every step of the way.
* * *
Vivi entered the kitchen wearing a pair of sweatpants and an NYU sweatshirt. Although she wasn't all that hungry—she always seemed to lose her appetite when working a case—she felt she needed to make the effort. If she declined, she was pretty sure he would think she was making too much out of that moment in the bedroom.
Ian was talking on the phone when she caught his eye. She motioned an offer of help. He shook his head and gestured toward a bar stool as he continued listening to the call while pulling potatoes out of the microwave.
She laid her cell down on the counter and watched him move around the kitchen then step outside. When he returned, he had a plate with a steak on it and his cell was off. He set everything down on the counter in front of them and spoke only when he was seated on a stool himself.
“We got a hit on the facial recognition database for our Jane Doe.”
That brought her up short. “And?” she prompted, fork halfway to her mouth.
“Her name is Jessica Akers. She's been missing three years. A nurse from New York City. Her parents filed the report, but they live in DC.”
Vivi frowned. “That name sounds familiar. Prominent family?”
He shrugged. “I'm not sure, but the department down there is sending us what they have. They also have the unenviable job of going to talk to the family.”
“We're ordering a DNA comparison, right?”
He nodded as her cell rang. She glanced at the number then frowned, hitting the ignore button. One of Ian's eyebrows went up in question. She ignored him too and turned back to her steak. Until her phone rang again. She cursed on an exhale.
She told Ian to listen in, then hit the speakerphone button. “Yes.”
“Hello, luv.”
“Hello, Nick. What do you want? I'm in the middle of dinner.”
“I'm on speakerphone, where are you?”
“Nowhere public, now talk.” Vivi was keenly aware of Ian watching her, though she kept her own eyes focused on the phone.
“Imagine my surprise when your name turned up on one of the cases I've been keeping an eye on.” It was hard to believe that she'd once found Nick's British accent, and the way he used it, charming.
“My name is probably on a lot of cases you keep your eye on, Nick.”
“Jessica Akers,” Nick responded.
She glanced up at Ian. She was as confused as he was. “What about her?”
“You found her?” Nick asked.
“Yes.”
“And did the preliminary, including the reconstruction,” he added.
She didn't like where this was heading. “She army?” Vivi asked, trying to suss out why Nick, an Army CID agent, would be involved in a missing persons case and how much she should tell him.
“No, but her family is,” he answered. “Now, why don't you tell me what you know?”
“Or,” she paused for effect, “you can tell me what you know, and then I'll decide if I want to share.”
“Ah, luv. You're breaking my heart.”
“Were that the case, Nick,” Vivi said under her breath. Across from her, Ian set his knife and fork down.
“Ah, that must be the enigmatic Deputy Chief MacAllister I hear scraping around in the background,” Nick said.
“Tell me what you know,” Vivi said before Ian could answer.
“And then you'll tell me what you know?”
“No, then I'll verify what you know with my reliable sources and then maybe I'll share with you what I know,” she corrected.
“You were never this territorial, Viv. It doesn't become you.”
“I never had to watch my back with a colleague before, now did I, Nick?”
His sigh came over the line, and when he spoke again, he still spoke with his native accent, but the cajoling jocularity was gone. In its place was the seasoned agent she knew him to be. “Jessica Akers is the daughter of Hammond Akers. General Hammond Akers. He has a proclivity for young girls that, embarrassingly enough, escaped without notice until someone provided evidence against him. He's in Leavenworth now, having very quietly and discreetly been court marshaled a year and half ago.”
“And Jessica provided the evidence?” Vivi asked.
“Yes, three weeks before she disappeared.”
Vivi glanced at Ian. “I'll see what information I can get you,” she said.
“Ah, Viv, you're really going to make me wait?”
“Goodbye, Nick. I know where to find you.” She hung up.
“Will he call back?” Ian asked, curiosity written in his expression.
“No, he knows better now,” she said, shaking her head.
“Now?” Ian asked. “As in, there was a point in time when he didn't know better?”
“It's a long story. We were involved at one point. Together, not on a case,” Vivi clarified. “We used to talk shop. A few years ago he was working a complicated, awful case. He bounced ideas off me, and when I gave him my feedback, he laughed. Well, not literally. But he didn't take me seriously. Didn't want to believe that psychology could explain anything. It caused a—well, to call it a rift is a bit of an understatement. He was ridiculing half my life's work. He
had full confidence in all the science, but not in anything else.
“The long and short of it is the case got worse, and I was called in, by his superiors mind you, to consult. I walked into the briefing room to hear him espousing my theories and taking the credit for them.” Vivi paused, taking a bite of her dinner. That moment, when she'd walked into the briefing room had felt so profound all those years ago. Now, here in this homey kitchen, it felt like nothing but a mild, unpleasant memory.
“To be honest,” she continued. “I don't care who gets credit and who doesn't but—”
“But when he used you after being so condescending, it was kind of hard to let that part go,” Ian finished.
She nodded. “Nick is very good at what he does. But the case was more my specialty than his. The fact that he was so disrespectful to me personally and professionally ended our relationship, which has, for obvious reasons, made our subsequent dealings a bit tense. Even though he is one of the best agents I know.”
“I can understand that. But, all that aside, do you think he's onto something? With Jessica Akers's death being linked to her father's crimes?”
“Before we jump the gun on that, I want to confirm his story.” Vivi picked up her cell, scrolled through the phonebook, hit a number, then put it on speaker.
“Danielson,” came the voice picking up the line.
“Karen, it's Vivi.”
“Vivi,” Karen's voice warmed. “Good to hear from you. What did Nick do now?”
“I'm sitting here with the Deputy Chief of Police of Windsor, New York, and we have a case Nick is interested in. I wanted to verify his story.” Vivi gave her friend the rundown of what Nick had told her. When she was done, Karen spoke.
“It's the truth. But not all of it. Jessica Akers has been his white whale for the past three years. Nick was the one who interviewed her. He wanted to put her in protective custody, given the information she'd brought us. She declined and then she disappeared. It wasn't our case, NYPD was handling it, and we were moving ahead on the case against her father. Our focus was elsewhere.”
“But he's never been able to forgive himself, has he,” Vivi commented.
“You know Nick,” Karen commented.
And despite everything, she did. “Thanks, Karen.”
“Are you going to work with him?”
“Work with him? No,” Vivi answered. “But we will keep him updated. We all know what it's like to be haunted. Despite what a cad he can be, no one deserves that.”
They hung up and Ian sat back. “Who was that?” he asked.
Vivi smiled. “Nick's partner. She likes me.”
He laughed for a moment then sobered. “So, do you think her father had anything to do with it now?”
“It's always possible,” she answered. The ibuprofen and ice had kicked in so Vivi was a bit more comfortable putting weight on her ankle. She gathered up their dinner plates and took them to the sink. Glancing around, Vivi noticed that Ian didn't have a dishwasher, so she stacked the dishes and began running the hot water.
“But?” he said, coming up beside her with their glasses.
“I can see a man cornered the way her father probably was, or feeling cornered the way he was, lashing out and killing no problem. But I don't see him killing her in the way I think she was killed.” She washed and rinsed a plate, then handed it to Ian.
“Meaning?” Ian pressed, taking the wet plate from her and wiping it dry with a white dish towel.
“He's a pedophile. Of course that doesn't mean he can't or doesn't commit other crimes, but being a pedophile isn't the same thing as chaining up an adult woman and killing her. Two very different psychologies at work.”
“But not always mutually exclusive?” he commented, drying dishes and putting them away as they came to him.
“I haven't seen it, but that's not to say it couldn't, or doesn't, exist. But like I said, a pedophile is more likely to kill an adult out of rage or impulse or fear. Jessica's death involved thought, planning, and execution.”
“What if he wanted to torture her for turning him in?”
“Possible, but unlikely. Torture probably isn't something that interests him,” she said washing the last of the dishes.
“Sex with young girls isn't torture?”
“It's torture for them, I'm sure. But not in his mind.” She handed him the last plate, then turned to find a towel to dry her hands.
“You said you thought there was a sexual component to Jessica's murder. Would that fit with her father? What if he was abusing her?” Ian asked, gesturing with his head to another dish towel hanging on the oven door.
“He probably did, when she was younger. But that's the thing. If there was a sexual component to Jessica's murder, and we don't have any physical evidence of that, then it's even more unlikely that her father would be involved. His sexual satisfaction comes from young girls. Once they reach a certain age, they aren't interesting to him in that way. He might not even be able to perform well, if at all, with an adult woman.” Vivi folded and rehung the dish towel, then leaned against the kitchen counter, as Ian put the last of the dishes away.
“But what if it's about the power, and it's the power that, well, for lack of a better word, does it for him?” Ian crossed his arms over his chest as he rested against the counter opposite her.
“It's always about power. But it's hard for me to see a pedophile being interested in holding the kind of power that whoever killed Jessica held over her. Again, I'm not saying it's not possible…” Her voice trailed off.
“But you think it isn't likely,” Ian finished.
“Keep an open mind, but I would be surprised,” she said.
“Shit,” Ian said, running a hand through his hair.
Vivi concurred.
“So, in all likelihood, we're back to the serial killer theory?” he asked.
“I am,” she said reaching for her cell. “But you should be more thorough. Come to think of it, Nick might handle that part of the investigation for us if you want him to.”
“What part?” Ian asked.
Vivi walked toward the back door but paused in front of Ian to answer. “He'll want to prove her father was involved once I tell him what we know. We can let him follow that trail while we continue looking at the connections between Jessica and Rebecca.”
“You think you're sending him off on a wild goose chase, don't you?” Ian asked as one side of his mouth tilted up into a half grin.
“I like to think of it more along the lines of giving him an excuse to exorcise a demon.”
“And we'll stick together?”
She nodded.
Ian grinned fully. “Then it sounds like a plan.”
CHAPTER 9
AT NINE O'CLOCK THE NEXT MORNING, Ian, Vivi, and Wyatt stood at the front door of the house where Rebecca Cole stayed while in Windsor. Ian had sent two other officers, Carly Drummond, a tall, fit woman with blonde curly hair and vivid hazel eyes, and Marcus Brown, an even taller man with broad shoulders and light brown eyes that contrasted with the dark color of his military-short hair, to stand perimeter. No one expected anyone to go jumping out windows or bolting out the back door, but as protocol and caution dictated, they weren't going to take any chances.
No one answered when Ian knocked and announced their presence. Wyatt debated with Marcus, who was visible from where they stood, about breaking down the locked door, but Vivi lifted a flowerpot and found a key. Holding it up, she handed it to Ian.
“The first lesson of the day: never make things more complicated than they already are,” Vivi chided. It was, in fact, a lesson, and she knew it would be the first of many that day. While she had little doubt the three younger deputies were good cops, all of them were new to this. From what she could tell, they were more interested in learning and doing the right thing than in trying to prove themselves in an area where they were so obviously out of their depth, and for that she was grateful. So, they took her announcement with good humor while Ian
unlocked the front door.
Vivi, Ian, and Wyatt stood to the side, lingering on the threshold for a moment as the door swung open revealing a center hall staircase to the left and a hall to the right. When no one came barreling out and no weapons were discharged, Ian, who held his service weapon, and Vivi, who'd brought hers along too, entered the house in the choreographed movement of a team who had cleared a building or two in their time. Leaving Wyatt to stand guard at the door and the stairs, they systematically went through the rooms before meeting up again in the center hall. Certain the house was clear, Ian called in the other officers, and when they were all assembled, Vivi proposed her plan.
“Why don't Carly, Wyatt, and I take the upstairs, and you and Marcus can take the downstairs? We'll photograph everything first and then start documenting and collecting?” she suggested. Ian was new to this, too—evidence collection. But she trusted his cautious nature and skills of observation to lead him. He nodded and she handed out the equipment—gloves and booties for everyone. In addition to her own evidence collection kit, she carried a camera. Ian held both the department's kit and camera. All three of the other officers were several years younger than Vivi—she would peg Marcus as the oldest of the three and Wyatt as the youngest—but they looked intelligent and alert and, more importantly, clearly and comfortably under Ian's command.
“Ready, folks?” Vivi asked with a nod to Carly and Wyatt, who both nodded back. “Good, follow me, stay to the outside, and keep your eyes open as we photograph. It's unlikely we're going to find a smoking gun here, but we may find something useful, so look for anything that might look out of place. Don't touch smooth surfaces until we know there aren't prints on them, and if you see something, don't waste any time wondering if it is something. Once we start collecting evidence, just document it, collect it, bag it, and tag it.” Everyone nodded again and they went to work.
Four hours later, they had several boxes full of evidence and, at least for Vivi, not a lot of hope they were going to find anything useful. While the deputies seemed excited about random hairs and fingerprints, she had enough experience to know that if the person responsible for Rebecca's disappearance ever set foot in the house he would have been too smart to leave any evidence of it. No, to her the most exciting thing was not the hair, but a small spot of oil in the garage. It looked like, at some point, there had been a second car in the garage. Judging from the spatter, something taller than Rebecca's own Subaru. But then again, even that could be nothing. It was possible that the owner had a truck he drove up on occasion. But to be on the safe side, they had photographed, documented, and collected a sample. It sat in box number two, waiting to be dropped at the lab in Albany.
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