“We can already place Joe in the same areas as three of the murders,” Naomi said.
“And we're not counting the ones within driving distance of New York, like Windsor and Boston. We figure those could be done in a day so we may not be as likely to find things like credit card statements or airline tickets. We're looking at the ones in Seattle, New Orleans, Savannah, and such.”
“Where have you placed him already?” Vivi asked, taking a sip of her wine. Brian gave her the names of three women they'd had posted on their board.
“It's his blood on the handcuffs,” Marcus announced. “Sam sent an analysis, and, well, it's his type anyway. And Meghan's. They're running DNA but won't have it back until tomorrow. His prints were on the handcuffs, but we knew they would be.”
All the evidence was stacking up against Joe. Stacking up in a way Vivi couldn't dispute, but there were too many unanswered questions for her to feel any measure of comfort.
“I wish I knew what his tie was to me, or if it's really about me at all.”
At that statement everyone looked up at her. And then she remembered she hadn't actually mentioned Nick's theory about her being the killer's obsession to anyone other than Ian. So she did, relaying Nick's impressions and their thoughts on Ian's car accident not being an accident at all.
“His tire was shot?” Carly repeated.
Vivi nodded. “Nick collected the bullet from the tire. I was planning to have a look at it today in Albany before Joe appeared at the house.”
“Sam mentioned something about a ballistics test, but I didn't follow up since I didn't know what he was talking about. That'll teach me to let things slide,” Marcus added in a muttered voice.
“Hmm,” Naomi said, holding up one of the files.
“Did you find something?” Vivi asked.
“Maybe. Maybe something Uncle Mike can help with,” Naomi suggested as she handed the file over to Vivi. “Schuyler Adams was a criminal defense attorney in Boston for years before moving to New York. His bio says he lectured at the law school where Mike lectures. Let's give him a call and see if he ever heard anything about the Adams men or even if he ever met Schuyler.”
Vivi agreed and dialed the number. Putting the phone on speaker, she greeted her uncle when he answered, then filled him in on the day, and launched straight to the question.
“Do you know Schuyler Adams or anything about him?” she asked.
“I do. He was a big-time attorney for a while. The kind of guy that us cops hated but also admired. But then his wife died and something changed. It wasn't long after that, he and his son left and moved to New York. We used to guest lecture together sometimes,” her uncle answered.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning the criminal law professor liked to bring in the cop and the defense attorney for a little round of dialogue for his students. Schuyler and I did it together a couple of times. Come to think of it,” Mike paused. “Come to think of it, you met him once, Vivi. And his son.”
Vivi sat up. Ian and Nick walked into the kitchen at that moment and must have sensed something. Their banter died down, and they quietly placed the food on the counter and joined everyone in the living room.
“I did?” she asked.
“Yes, the spring before you started at the university yourself,” Mike's voice had taken on the tone of one recalling a long-forgotten memory. “You had admissions and wanted to check things out so you came with me to campus one day. You walked around a bit while I lectured, but then you joined me at the end. I introduced you to Schuyler and his son, Joe. If I recall, the kid was a couple of years older than you, and his father was quick to point out your achievements in not a very nice way. I thought he was a bit daft about it, but what do I know? I mean you're exceptional, Vivi, but his son seemed like a good kid—was headed off to college himself as far as I knew—so it didn't make sense to have his dad harping on him. You weren't a good comparison for most college-aged kids, I mean you being sixteen at the time and all.”
“Do you remember the meeting, Vivienne?” Ian asked.
She frowned. “Now that Mike mentions it, vaguely. But obviously not enough to remember the Adams men specifically.”
“It was two months later that the young girl we think was the first victim was killed,” Carly said, her eyes back on the laptop.
“Could you have brought to the surface some sort of latent rage toward his father?” Ian asked.
“And he took it out on women who looked like me as a way to annihilate what his father thought he should be? It's possible, but I need to think about it a little more.” She thanked her uncle who, as always, told her to stay safe and hung up. She sat back and took another sip of wine.
“Something isn't sitting well with you, is it, Vivienne?” Ian asked.
It wasn't, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. “I don't know, Ian. Maybe we should eat, and I'll try not to think about it so hard and see what comes into my head.”
“Maybe when we know more about him, about the evidence and how he lived, it will make more sense. If it ever makes sense.” Ian held out a hand and helped her off the couch. “In the meantime, I think you're right. It's been an intense day for everyone. Let's eat, maybe blow off a little steam, and we can go from there.”
By the time they climbed into bed that night, they still didn't have anything from Joe's apartment, but between his whereabouts, his cloudy past, and the physical evidence, it wasn't looking good for him. They had even found the truck they believed was used to transport Meghan on the back part of the Adams property. It had been cleaned but was still being processed in Albany.
Pushing the details from her mind, Vivi didn't find it all that hard to shut down that part of her brain. Not with Ian beside her. When she curled up alongside him, he wrapped his good arm around her and pulled her close.
“That gun in my ankle holster is unregistered,” she said, smiling. His chest rumbled with a soft chuckle, as she traced her fingers along his skin. “A friend got it for me a while back when we were traveling in some less than hospitable places. Not sure why I kept it, but I did.”
Ian rolled toward her and ran a fingertip down her cheek. “You know I could arrest you for that.” She arched a brow at him. “But, like I said, I'm out of my uniform now, and I definitely have other things on my mind.”
She smiled and pulled his lips toward hers. “I was hoping you'd say that.”
CHAPTER 28
FOR GOOD OR FOR BAD, Ian let Vivi sleep in the next morning. He had gotten up early, showered, made coffee, and headed into the station, but she had taken it easy and was now sitting on the front porch, in a pair of his boxers and one of his t-shirts, enjoying a cup of the coffee he'd left brewing for her.
She was absorbing the quiet when she heard a car pull off the road onto the driveway. A few seconds later, Nick's rental appeared.
“There's coffee in the kitchen if you want some,” she offered with a gesture of her head when he joined her on the porch.
“Don't mind if I do.”
A few minutes later he was seated in another chair beside her, boots propped up and a steaming mug in hand. “This place suits you, Viv.”
She inclined her head. “I agree, it does.”
“So, are you going to stay?” he asked, picking up the conversation he'd tried to start the day before.
She couldn't say she hadn't given it much thought, because she had. In between everything else they were thinking about and dealing with, she had thought of little else.
“Don't complicate things, luv.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, you're thinking too hard. You're thinking about your job and your family and the fact that you've only known MacAllister a few weeks.”
“I shouldn't think of those things?”
“You know you're one of the smartest people I know, Viv. One of the smartest people you know. But you're also annoyingly intuitive, luv. It's really not cosmically fair, come to think of it, that you're
not some weird savant on either end of the spectrum—being either scary smart or eerily intuitive.”
“What are you getting at, Nick?”
“If you're smart enough to do the things you do, you're smart enough to figure out how to make your life and Ian's life into a life that works together. And, judging by the way you two look at each other, I think it will be disgustingly easy, actually, if you decide it's worth it. So, is it, Viv? Is it worth it?”
It was, but she didn't say so. She gave a small nod and heard Nick exhale as if he'd been holding his breath, waiting for her to make the wrong choice. And now that she had made the right one, he could finally relax. She smiled to herself; it was funny just how much a little breath could tell her about how much Nick cared about her. Despite everything, or maybe because of it, he wanted her happy.
They sat together in companionable silence, finishing their coffee. Just as she was rising to get ready to head into town, Nick's cell rang.
He glanced at the number, then mouthed “Sam” before answering. Vivi stood listening to Nick's half of the conversation, and it didn't take long to know there was a snag in the investigation. Whatever it was, it had to do with the handcuffs, and while Nick didn't look overly alarmed, his look of concern wasn't what she wanted to see.
“Well?” she asked, as soon as he hung up.
“There's a third partial print on the handcuffs. Sam doesn't have enough to get a full match, but what he does have could match with Schuyler Adams.”
“That's not all that surprising. Our best guess right now is that he discovered what his son was doing and was trying to stop him. Trying to kill him was a bit much, I think, but if he thought his son was responsible, and we know he had a temper, it's not out of the question. And it might have been the handcuffs he found that clued him in. If he picked them up, it wouldn't be unusual to find his prints on them.”
“And his DNA?” Nick added.
Her stomach sank. “What kind of DNA, and where did Sam find it?” If it was sweat DNA, her reasoning might still be valid.
“Epithelial DNA. In the locking mechanism.”
“Like what we'd find if someone not used to using handcuffs got their finger pinched when locking them around someone's wrist. Shit.” That bit of information definitely threw a monkey wrench into their theory. She needed more from Sam, but unless they could come up with a very good reason Schuyler's skin cells would be where they were, it was looking like it was the father, not the son, who went after Meghan. And maybe they had it all backward. Maybe Joe discovered his father's secret and was trying to tell her. And then his own father tried to kill him to stop him.
Her mind raced through what they knew and she grabbed her cell.
“Viv?”
Ignoring Nick, she dialed Ian. When she didn't get an answer, she hung up and called Sam back.
“Sam,” she said without preamble. “We sent you some pictures of Schuyler's injuries. Can you run them by your team and see if we can get an idea of what might have caused them?”
“I can tell you right now they were caused by someone's hands. And small hands at that,” he answered.
“Hands the size of Meghan Conners?” she asked.
Sam paused for a second then answered. “We'll run some comparisons, but I'd say that's a possible scenario.”
“You think it was Schuyler who went after Meghan, don't you?” Nick asked after she hung up.
“I think it's definitely something we need to look into. Did you see Ian this morning? He needs to know this and decide if he wants to ask NYPD to search Schuyler's home and office.”
“I ran into him, the felons, and Travis at Frank's this morning. He was waiting for the evidence from Joe Adams's apartment to arrive before heading up to Albany. The four of them were having breakfast together.”
Vivi tried Ian's cell and, again, no answer. Tapping the phone on her hand, her mind raced. Something was off; something didn't fit. And then she knew.
“Shit.” She headed into the living room and began going through the files.
“What?” Nick said, following close on her heels.
She focused on what she now realized had been bugging her all along. She pulled out photo after photo of the victims and lined them up on the coffee table. When she had nine photos out, she stepped back. Her heart sank and she felt ill. They'd been wrong, very wrong.
“What do you see, Nick?” she asked, pointing to the pictures. Some were photos of discolored flesh, others were of clean, white bones. All of them were wrists. Nick leaned down to take a closer look. He picked up one after the other and, after examining the last, looked up.
“I should have caught it sooner, Nick. Hell, I was even the one to noticed it in the first place,” she said.
“Viv.”
“Whoever did this to these women,” she said, gesturing to the photos, “he never, not once, used handcuffs. With the exception of our first victim, without fail, he restrained them with shackles, Nick. Thick, metal shackles. Whoever killed these women is still out there.”
CHAPTER 29
“WE NEED TO FIND IAN,” Vivi said, calling out to Nick from the bedroom. Tugging on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, she glanced down at her boots. On any other day she wouldn't think twice about pulling them on, but she was beginning to feel a sense of urgency. And she'd been around long enough to know not to ignore her intuition. Casting her boots aside, she slipped on a pair of sneakers and, after checking her weapon, she strapped on her ankle holster and slid the gun inside. She hoped she wouldn't need it, but she'd rather have it and not need it than the other way around.
“I'll drive you into town, and we can check for Ian at the station, then head to Frank's. In the meantime, you can keep trying to reach him on his phone,” Nick said.
She tried two more times on their drive in; it wasn't like Ian to not answer. But then again, if he was back out on patrol for some reason, there could be any number of explanations for why he wasn't answering, from being in a location with no coverage to being in the middle of something else—like dealing with a car accident or policing his town.
All three officers were at the station when they arrived, but none of them had seen Ian since he'd gone off with the twins and Travis for breakfast. Walking down Main Street toward Frank's Café, Vivi called Naomi.
“Are you guys still at Frank's?” she asked.
“Uh, no. Brian and I are here at The Tavern working. Ian went with Travis to scout some of the local farms. He said he had a few hours before the evidence from Joe Adams's apartment arrived, and it was a nice day, so they headed out somewhere. Why?”
“Because I can't find him,” Vivi said and then told Naomi her new belief that Joe Adams was not the serial killer and that they needed to keep looking.
“Call Travis, and in the meantime, I'll try to track Ian's cell. If it's still on, I should be able to find it.”
“Is that legal?” Vivi paused.
“Do you really care?” her cousin countered.
“Just let me know,” she replied.
“I will. And by the way, you should know we had a very interesting breakfast with Deputy Chief MacStudly. He kind of likes you, you know. As in, I think he'd like to take you to the church, if you know what I mean.” Vivi could hear the grin in her cousin's voice.
She also had no problem envisioning her cousins interrogating Ian on the subject. She felt a little bad for him, but then again, he had chosen to go with them to eat, so he'd gotten what he'd deserved. And there was a little girly part of her that liked hearing what Naomi said.
“Nice, Naomi. I'm glad to hear your interrogation techniques are still getting you results. Now, please go find him, so I can check to make sure he hasn't gone into hiding from you all.”
Naomi laughed. “Not hardly. He doesn't hide from anything. But I'm on it. I'll call you back as soon as I have anything.”
Vivi and Nick headed back to the station, calling Travis on their way and not getting an answer. When they arrived
, they updated Wyatt, Marcus, and Carly. None of the information they'd accumulated upstairs had been removed, so they all made their way back up to see if, on what felt like their thousandth viewing, they might discover something new.
She stared at the information on the board, intentionally focusing not on the images of the women, but on the data scribbled on the white background. Sometimes she could find patterns this way. Something fluttered in the back of her mind when she let her eyes fall on the date the second victim disappeared. She couldn't quite grasp it though and was moving on to the third when her cell rang.
Travis's number popped up and while she was glad to get ahold of at least one of the men she was looking for, she wished it was Ian on the other end of the line. She hadn't bothered to ask Carly or any of the others to try and trace Ian through his car since she knew he was with Travis—at least in talking to her old, family friend, she might get the information she needed.
“I just saw you called. I left my phone in the car when I stopped to take some pictures. What's going on?” he asked after they'd said their hellos.
“Naomi said you and Ian went off together to look at some potential sites. Is he with you?” she asked.
“No, he's not. I dropped him at the hospital. Have you tried his cell?”
“Yes, and he's not answering.” Frustrated, she let out a deep sigh. “I've called him three times in the past forty minutes,” she added.
“It's probably only been a few hours since you've seen him, so please tell me you aren't pining for him already. You hardly know him all that well, anyway,” he responded. “I know you better.”
Surprised at Travis's interpretation—or misinterpretation—of the situation, Vivi paused for a moment before answering.
“We've had some evidence come in that changes things for the case we're on, and I need to find him. What time did you drop him off at the hospital?” She kept her voice intentionally cool, reminding Travis that there were bigger issues at stake than her love life.
She heard Travis sigh and knew he felt bad. “Sorry, Vivi. That was uncalled for and I know you better than to think you'd act like some love-sick teenager. It's been a long few days. I dropped him off about fifteen minutes ago. Maybe he's in a location where he can't use his cell?”
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