Killer Score (The Irish Garda Files Book 2)

by Melinda Colt

  “How do you know?” Chelsea asked, forcing herself to look away from the wall of photos.

  “The desk is covered in dust except for these two rectangular patches. See? A laptop was here, and next to it was a mouse pad. She even forgot her eye glasses, but she took her laptop and cat.”

  There was an ashtray full of cigarette butts on the desk. Evan took an evidence bag out of his pocket and collected a couple of butts.

  “I’m taking these to do a DNA match, and I’ll also grab some hairs from a brush if there’s one in the bathroom. Let’s see if we can find any hint as to where she could have gone.”

  They searched every inch of the flat, collected some more evidence for DNA matching, but didn’t find anything that would shed light on Aideen’s current whereabouts. There was no phone, no address book with phone numbers on it, no scribbled name or address of a friend. They found an impressive stash of sex toys in a night stand drawer, most of them destined for self-service usage. Chelsea did her best not to blush when Evan took out a plus size dildo, whistled, then placed it back into the drawer.

  “It seems the woman has a… healthy sex drive,” Evan observed. “Was she like that in high school too?”

  Chelsea shrugged, still feeling slightly uncomfortable.

  “No. I mean, I don’t know for sure… She liked boys, but her parents were very strict. They wouldn’t let her date. Anyway, no one asked her out as far as I know. It’s not unusual for girls like that to become promiscuous. But despite the fact that she advertised her availability to a lover, no doubt the men she’s dated over the years weren’t crazy about her personality. None seems to have stuck around for long. She’s so bitter and full of hate…”

  Chelsea didn’t notice the tinge of pity that had sneaked up on her, but Evan must have detected it in her voice.

  He took her arm and turned her around to face him. “Are you kidding me? Don’t tell me you feel sorry for this sick bitch. Men didn’t stick around because she’s bitter and full of hate. She killed two innocent women. I don’t even want to think what plans she had for you, or I might snap her neck by mistake when we capture her,” he said angrily. “Don’t even think of her as human, Chelsea. Shannon and Jenny deserve your pity, not this monster. Now focus and think. Where might she go?”

  Chelsea rubbed her temples, her mind spinning in circles. She’d remembered a lot about Aideen lately, but she hadn’t really known her that well to begin with. They had been teenagers during their brief friendship, and like most teenagers, they didn’t pay much attention to details. Their flighty, self-centered minds had been on other things.

  “I have no idea, Evan. It’s been such a long time… I never knew her that well, and I have no clue who she is now. You know, other than a crazy stalker and murderer. If she took her phone and laptop, I don’t even know where to start looking. Couldn’t you track her somehow through GPS if we can get her phone number?”

  “I could, but she knows that. I’m sure she’s ditched that phone by now. Maybe she had some fake ID at the ready, in case we were on to her. She must have been prepared because she fled awfully fast for a person otherwise unaware. I think she believed we wouldn’t be able to trace her, but wanted to be ready just in case. Let’s see where her parents and sister live, then go talk to them. Maybe they can help us.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Chelsea said gloomily. “Even if she’s not their favorite person, they’d never hand her over to the police. I’ll bet they won’t even believe us or accept what she’s done, despite the evidence against her. Those people have lived in denial all of their lives.”

  The O’Bannions’ house was located in Ashbourne, some ten minutes north of Dublin. It resembled a small fortress, sporting a tall wooden fence that hid everything beyond it. Even the No Parking sign nailed on the fence sent a ‘stay away’ vibe.

  As much as she hated being right, Chelsea’s predictions came true. The O’Bannions were just as she remembered them. Mrs. O’Bannion was belligerent and defiant, calling them ‘crazy guards’ and claiming her daughter had never broken the law in her life. How the bloody hell could they show up at her door at this time of evening and lie, saying Aideen had killed some people? Mr. O’Bannion—the shadow of his wife—didn’t speak much, just shook his head and said he didn’t know where Aideen was, and that this must be some terrible misunderstanding.

  Despite Mrs. O’Bannion’s loud protests, Evan walked quickly but thoroughly through the two-bedroom house, making sure there was no trace of Aideen, her cat, or her things. Unlike in the United States, he didn’t need a search warrant here to enter the premises if he had serious reason to do so.

  “When was the last time you spoke with Aideen?” he asked Mrs. O’Bannion after he finished his quick search.

  Chelsea waited by the front door. Neither of Aideen’s parents had recognized her, and she was grateful for that. Evan had only introduced her as Doctor Campbell.

  “She was here just last month for dinner,” Mrs. O’Bannion said, her arms crossed over her thin chest. The resemblance between her and her daughter made it difficult for Chelsea not to stare at her sharp cheekbones and frowning eyebrows.

  “Can you please give me her phone number?” Evan pulled out his notepad and pen, standing at the ready, his no-nonsense cop-mode on.

  Mrs. O’Bannion looked up at him defiantly, then turned her head to her husband without looking at him.

  “Go and fetch my phone, Aengus.”

  As her husband left, she turned to Evan and Chelsea again. “Where did ye get this mad notion that Aideen has killed two women? Are ye not the full shilling, lad?”

  Evan glanced at Chelsea, confused.

  “She’s asking if you’re crazy,” she clarified.

  “Ahem. I assure you I’m perfectly sane, Ma’am. What about Aideen? Have you ever taken her to a doctor to see if she’s… the full shilling?”

  Mrs. O’Bannion looked extremely affronted. “Why would I do that? I haven’t given birth to mad children, officer. I want you to know I will call your supervisor as soon as—”

  “Here’s your phone, dear,” her husband interrupted from behind her.

  She darted him a look that could shrink a cactus, then snatched the phone and started clumsily pressing buttons. In the end, she came up with a number and turned the phone to Evan. He wrote down the number, then took out a card with his own contact information.

  “If Aideen contacts you, or if you have any news from her, please call me asap. This is a serious police issue, Ma’am. If you don’t cooperate, you and your husband will be considered accomplices. Where can I find your other daughter?” He consulted his notes. “Alice?”

  “Alice has been living in Germany for over five years,” Mrs. O’Bannion said, pride filling her voice. “She manages a big hotel there.”

  “Can you give me her contact information? Your cooperation could save us a lot of time,” Evan added.

  Grudgingly, Mrs. O’Bannion gave him Alice’s phone number.

  “Thank you.” Evan tucked his notepad back in his pocket. “Could Aideen have gone to her sister?”

  Mrs. O’Bannion looked genuinely puzzled. “Whatever for?”

  “To… visit.” It took Evan a moment to find an alternative for ‘hide out’. “I gather your daughters are not close? Do they visit each other often?”

  “They’re sisters, but each of my girls is busy with her career. They don’t have a lot of time to visit.”

  “Right. What’s Aideen’s career, Mrs. O’Bannion?”

  “Aren’t ye supposed to know?” she said scornfully. “She’s an artist. She paints, she draws, that’s her career.”

  “Does she have any other job that you know of?”

  “Why would she need another job? She makes a good living from her art. Aideen is very talented.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  Chelsea heard the sarcasm in Evan’s voice and knew he was referring to something else entirely.

  After thanking the O’Bann
ions and warning them one more time to contact him if they had any news from Aideen, Evan turned on his heels. Chelsea walked at his side, darting one last glance over her shoulder at Mrs. O’Bannion, who stood on the porch, fists clenched, and Mr. O’Bannion, always behind his wife, still and as expressionless as a statue.

  “What do you think?” she asked Evan once they were back in the car.

  “Creepy as hell. I think this is what Jeffrey Dahmer’s family must have been like,” he said, referring to the famous serial killer also known as ‘The Milwaukee Cannibal’. “They don’t know anything, and they don’t want to know anything. I’m counting on that. They’ll rat her out if they learn something because underneath it all they’re scared. They don’t want their image tainted, their world disturbed. Let’s try Aideen’s phone number.”

  He dialed the number, but lowered the phone several moments later. “Disconnected. Figures.”

  “She’s crazy, not stupid,” Chelsea said.

  Desperation crept upon her at the thought that Aideen was out there, unknown, unseen. What if they never found her? Probably now she was too busy to think of picking a new victim, but what was to stop her from reinventing herself and continuing her activities? They had to stop her.

  “What now?” she asked.

  Evan looked at his watch.

  “It’s past 8. Let’s go home. I’ll write an email to brief the chief and send an alert to all the Garda members with Aideen’s data. We’ll all be on the lookout for her. Then, we need to get some sleep. Nothing more we can do tonight.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Evan focused on driving, his thoughts tangled in the motion of the windshield wipers. It was raining again—small, cold, piercing drops that accentuated the thermic discomfort. At night the temperatures had begun to drop close to freezing. God, he missed the California sun! He’d been giving serious consideration to the idea that after he solved this case, he should move back. Maybe take a job as a small town sheriff, someplace where crime was limited to drinking and driving or stealing a neighbor’s cow.

  He darted a glance at Chelsea. She sat huddled in her coat, hands clasped together in her lap, seeking warmth. On the one hand, she resembled a young, helpless child he wanted to protect at all cost, but when her exotic eyes met his, she was all woman, and he ached to take her in his arms and kiss the life out of her. No, he couldn’t leave her. Not now, not ever. For no matter how hard he fought it, he was falling in love with her. He hadn’t realized it until he’d told her he could kill Aideen—and meant it. If necessary he could have fought the devil himself for Chelsea. But would he be able to protect her? Because right now he didn’t have a clue how to find that crazy bitch.

  As though sensing his thoughts, Chelsea angled her body toward him.

  “Do you think we’ll find her?” she asked.

  “We have to.”

  “But how? She’s in the wind. For all we know, she could be in another country by now.”

  Evan shook his head. “She won’t leave until her business is finished.” He was both convinced and terrified by that fact.

  Chelsea was quiet for a moment, then spoke softly. “You mean killing me. I agree. She couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t finish what she started.”

  Evan looked over at her, tried to gage how she felt. Was it fear, outrage, weariness? There was a shade of defiance in her voice that made him uneasy.

  “I think she’ll try, yes. But she can’t possibly succeed. I will make sure you’re safe, Chelsea.”

  “I appreciate that, but I don’t plan to hide.”

  “You’re not hiding, you’re being smart while dealing with a dangerous lunatic. Anyone in your situation would have the Garda’s protection.”

  “Would they be sleeping in your bed, too?”

  “If it was absolutely necessary, yes,” he replied truthfully. “Do you want to grab something to eat before we go home?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not hungry, I stuffed myself at lunch. But if you’re hungry, let’s—”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m not hungry either. I just want to get home and take a hot shower.”

  “Amen to that.”

  As they approached his building, Evan felt as though he saw the light at the end of a dark tunnel. He parked, cut the engine, then he and Chelsea climbed out of the car. He shivered once in the cold night air and hurried his steps. Instinctively, he put an arm around Chelsea, who struggled to keep up with him. By the time they reached his door, they were both chuckling at their hurry to get inside.

  Kieran started to meow as soon as Evan stuck the key in the lock. He felt bad about neglecting the cat, but what could he do? It was his job. Besides, Kieran was caterwauling for attention, not because he was hungry or thirsty, since Evan always made sure he had plenty of food and water.

  “Ye poor thing, come here, acushla,” Chelsea cooed to the cat, lifting him into her arms and rubbing her cheek against his.

  Kieran was thrilled, purring loudly, whiskers twitching while he enjoyed their visitor’s scent.

  “Hey, buddy, now you have someone to spoil you.” Smiling, Evan gave the cat a quick scratch behind the ears. “You know the drill, consider yourself at home,” he told Chelsea as he reached behind her to lock and bolt the door.

  “It’s odd, but I do feel at home here.”

  “I’m glad of that.” He took her chin between his fingers and tilted her head back. “You’re safe here and always welcome.”

  “Thank you.”

  Her gaze was soft as she smiled gratefully. She winced slightly when Kieran stuck his claw in her shoulder to better secure himself. Laughing, Chelsea shifted him to her other arm, then shrugged her purse off her shoulder and placed it on the shoe rack in the hallway. After more stroking and nuzzling, she put the cat down so she could take off her coat.

  Satisfied for the moment, Kieran followed Evan into the living room, throwing glances over his shoulder to see if Chelsea was behind him.

  Evan and Chelsea washed their hands in the bathroom, scrubbing vigorously. Although they’d both worn gloves while searching O’Bannion’s flat, they both felt dirty.

  After putting fresh food and water for Kieran in the kitchen, Evan joined Chelsea on the couch in the living room. She was fidgeting with the remote, but Evan got the impression she wasn’t really searching for a program to watch, just trying to occupy her mind.

  He sat next to her, unable to stifle a groan of relief. His shoulder bothered him more than usual, and he couldn’t wait to take a hot shower and soak away the discomfort. But first he had more urgent business to attend to.

  He reached out for his laptop, opened it, and started typing. First, he sent an internal email to every member of the Garda, from superintendents to foot patrols, giving a brief summary of the case and adding Aideen O’Bannion’s information. He attached several photos, taken from multiple angles. If any guard saw this woman or someone who looked like her, they were supposed to stop and ID her, then contact Evan immediately. He ordered a shift of three Gardaí to supervise discretely the O’Bannions’ home, and another one to reach out to her sister in Germany and see what information he could gather. Then he wrote his report and emailed it to his chief. He didn’t want to be in Simon McLean’s shoes when the press got wind of this new development. As an FBI agent, Evan had had to deal with media often, and since this mess had started he’d been approached by journalists several times. However, the code demanded he made no comment that hadn’t been approved by McLean, the Chief Inspector. Evan was more than okay with that, preferring to leave all the BS to the chief.

  Half an hour later, he was finished. Next to him, Chelsea had remained quiet. She was watching some British show with the sound down low, Kieran napping on her lap. Evan put his laptop aside and gently rubbed his achy eye sockets.

  “Sorry about that, but… It’s work,” he said.

  “Don’t be silly. You don’t have to apologize, nor do you have to entertain me. I already have someone for
that.” She brushed her finger over the very edge of Kieran’s ear. The cat’s ear twitched in reflex at the tickling motion, but he was too lazy to open his eyes.

  Evan chuckled, stroking one of the cat’s chubby cheeks. “He’s nice to have around. Listen, I want to take a shower. Would you like to use the bathroom first?”

  “No, you go ahead. I’m watching Doctor Who. By the time you finish, the episode will be over, and I’ll take my turn,” she said, smiling up at him.

  “Okay. Want me to bring you something to drink, or a snack?”

  “Just a glass of water, please. I’d get it myself, but I don’t want to disturb his highness.” She inclined her chin toward the cat in her lap.

  “Good thinking.” Evan grinned, then went into the kitchen for the water.

  He took a water bottle out of the refrigerator and poured some into a glass. Opening a cupboard, he shuffled through the contents until he found an unopened box of chocolate-glazed cookies. Chelsea had said she didn’t want a snack, but didn’t most women love chocolate? He’d seen the sadness and uneasiness behind her fake smile. If anything could make her feel better, it was chocolate.

  He even thought of getting a couple of paper napkins, and took the cookies and water to Chelsea. Her eyes lit up brightly when she saw the box.

  “Sorry, I should have put them on a plate or something,” he mumbled, placing everything in front of her on the coffee table.

  “No, this is perfect. Thank you so much for thinking of it. I appreciate it.”

  Her smile was genuine this time. Evan wondered when and why they had become so polite to one another? Their conversation seemed so formal, it was silly.

  “No problem. I’ll go shower.”

  He went to the bedroom to take out clean underwear and socks. He also grabbed a pair of track pants and a T-shirt from the dresser and carried everything into the bathroom.

  He turned on the hot water and undressed, tossing his clothes into the hamper. After he debated, he took them out, folded them a little, then put them back. He was acting like an idiot! It had been too long since he’d lived with a woman. And it was the first time he was living with a woman he liked so damn much. What was he supposed to do about it? Romance was the last thing on his mind. At this point though, his mind needed a break.