“Jo?” Harry asks behind me. I don’t turn around. I can’t look at him. I don’t think I could move if I wanted to. He comes around, pulling one of the chairs with him, sitting down across from me. “Jo, look at me. Please.” He touches my hand, and I turn away from the pink house to my ex. He should hate me, I would, but there’s no malice in those blue eyes. He looks as sad as I feel. “Oh, Jo.”
“It was…” I can’t finish. I want to fall into his arms and cry, but after last night I’ve lost that privilege. So I don’t. I don’t even look at him. I gaze down at the stone. “Have you been in there?”
“Not yet. I wanted to check on you first.”
“Sir?”
We both turn around. One of the ME’s assistants, who has blood on her gloves, stands at the door. “Yes?” Harry asks.
“The ME’s asking for you.”
“Give me a minute.”
The woman walks back inside the house of horror. She’s going to poke and prod as if they were slabs of meat. Then they’ll be autopsied, cut apart and…God. “You better get in there. I’m okay, boss.”
“Do you need anything? Do you want me to call someone?”
“Uh, Justin’s out of town. I tried his cell, but it’s turned off. I left him a message. I don’t know when he’s supposed to be home. I don’t think Rebecca has anyone else. I don’t know. I should call Lucy, I guess. She might know.”
“I meant call someone for you. Your uncle? Veronica?”
“She’s probably out front with the rest of them. No, I’m fine. Go to work.”
He isn’t at all convinced, but he knows better than to press me. “Okay. I’m just inside if you need me.” He gets up and walks to the door.
“Harry?”
He spins around. “Yes?” I open my mouth to apologize, beg for forgiveness, but the words don’t come out. I shake my head. He smiles sympathetically. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Okay.”
He walks inside, leaving me as I should be. Alone. I just want to give my statement and leave. I would, but I can’t move. I have no place to go. I need to do something, anything. Justin. I have to think of Justin, he’s all that matters now. I pull out my phone and try his number again, then his assistant Shannon’s, but neither answer. Lucy does.
“Lucy Helms.”
“Lucy, it’s Joanna.”
“Oh,” she says, more than a little surprised. I’ve never called her before. I only have her number for reasons such as this. “Is everything alright?”
“Um, no. Not at all.” I pause, biting my lip. “I need to reach Justin right away, and he’s not answering. Do you have another number for him?”
“No. He’s probably on the plane.”
“He’s already on his way home? Do you know when he lands?”
“They’re just stopping here to refuel. He has to go to London next. Joanna, what is going on? Do you need help?” she asks, genuinely concerned for me.
“No,” I say, my voice quaking. “Um, it’s…um…, Rebecca’s dead. Daisy and Marnie too.”
There’s nothing but dead silence on the other end for a few seconds. “How?”
“They were murdered. It looks like it was Alkaline.”
Now there’s nothing but the sound of ragged breathing. “Are—are you sure?”
“I—I found them. It—it was him. No doubt.”
“Oh, Joanna,” she says, “I’m so sorry.”
I didn’t know she was capable of pity. I’d be touched if I wasn’t trying so hard to remain numb. “Look, I don’t know how long I’ll be stuck here, but I think we should both be there to tell him. I’ll get away somehow.”
“Right. Of course. Just call me when you’re on your way.” She pauses for a moment. “Thank you for telling me, Joanna.”
“I’ll see you soon.” I hang up the phone and let out a shaky breath. She thanked me. Thanked me. Why would she do that? Why—
A camera peeks over the back fence followed by its owner, a skuzzy man I recognize as one of the paparazzi. Then another pops up next to him. “Detective Fallon! Detective Fallon! Is it true this is the work of Alkaline? Whose house is this?”
I can’t deal with them right now. Where there are two, there will be more. I’m a hot draw. I stand up and back into the house away from the shouting people.
The smell has almost dissipated with all the doors open. Forensic techs dust for prints on the front door and living room while others take pictures. For once I feel out of place at a crime scene, when I usually feel out of place everywhere else. I stand off to the side near the wall filled with pictures. I never look at the pictures of people at the scene, but now I can’t take my eyes off these. Rebecca and Daisy at the playground. Daisy in her christening gown. Rebecca as a beautiful teenager in front of a yellow VW beetle. Rebecca, an Indian woman, and Jem Ambrose from last night all smiling and hugging. Justin and Rebecca on the beach holding hands. Maybe I should go back outside.
Cam comes down the stairs before I can flee, still holding a handkerchief to his mouth. He lowers it when he sees me. More pity. I can’t abide it. Never could. “I’m fine,” I say before he can open his mouth.
“Of course you are,” he says as he approaches.
“Look, can you take my statement? I have to meet Justin’s plane.”
“Does he know? What about next of kin?”
“I don’t know. Her father’s dead, but I guess her ex-husband should be notified. He’s in prison in Donnersville. I think his name’s Micah, but I don’t know the last name. Oh, her brother’s in the Army. He’s overseas, I don’t know where. His name’s Sam.”
“We’ll find them,” Cam assures me.
“Okay.” I glance at the photos, suddenly feeling sick again. “Can we do this in the kitchen, please?”
“Sure. Of course.”
Techs work in there too. Nothing seems out of place, not even the Disney princess placemats on the table. I sit in front of Snow White with Cam beside me. He takes out his pad. “I was supposed to meet them at Millicent’s Bridal Boutique at noon. Approximately forty-five minutes after I arrived, a salesgirl told me that the Thorntons hadn’t shown up and could not be reached by telephone. I called the house and Rebecca’s cell, but there was no response on either, I decided to check on them here. When I arrived approximately twenty minutes later, the car was in the driveway, and the front door was unlocked. When I opened the door, I could smell the acid and blood and called for back-up. There was no one on the first floor, and no signs of struggle. When I went upstairs, I found all three Thorntons dead. The only things I touched were the front and back door handles, the neck of the corpse in the hallway who I can positively identify as Marnie Thornton, and the wrist of the child Daisy Thornton. I did not allow anyone to enter the house until CSI arrived. Um, I know I’m forgetting something. I covered…”
Cam pats my hand. “You got it all, Jo.”
“Did the ME determine time of death?”
“Looks to be about 6:30 this morning.”
“What do you think happened?”
“As best we can tell, he either found a spare key or picked the lock. The older woman must have heard him or was up already, and he shot acid into her face and neck area to keep her quiet. If this alerted the other two, we don’t know yet. We assume yes, because Dr. Thornton has a broken nose.”
Harry steps in without a word and hangs back by the fridge. He folds his arms and gazes at me. I can’t look back. “Um, there was a splotch of blood down the hallway,” I say.
“There’s a contusion on the back of the child’s head. We think he threw her against the wall and knocked her out there. After he was done with the mother, he carried the child to her bed and smothered her.”
“He didn’t…” I can’t even fathom it.
“No, she was fully clothed and there are no other marks on her besides the head wound.”
Thank God for small mercies. “Rebecca was the target.”
“Y
es. He subdued her, restrained her, and killed her.”
“Were there signs of sexual assault?”
He hesitates, but says, “Yes. I’m sorry.”
“That’s not his M.O., Grace Pickering notwithstanding.”
“None of this is his M.O. There’s no way we could have predicted this.” He clears his throat. “Do you have any idea why he targeted the Thorntons? Did any of them mention someone following them? Anything out of the ordinary?”
“No.” I avert my eyes down to the tile floor. “But, um, at the party last night, I think I saw Alkaline.”
“What?” Cam asks.
“At the time, I didn’t think it was him. I only saw him for a second.” I look at Harry. “And I had a lot to drink last night.” I look away again. “He had a beard and glasses on, but after this it had to be him.”
“How sure are you?” Harry asks.
“Now? Ninety percent. It just happened so fast. He walked right by me, didn’t even acknowledge my presence. I turned to get a second look, but I couldn’t see him.”
“You didn’t think to call this in?” Cam asks.
“Like I said, I was drunk and upset, and it wasn’t the first time I thought I saw him. Not to mention the fact that there was security everywhere and the only way past them was by invitation, which was checked at the door.”
“Okay, I’ll call the hotel and get the security footage from last night,” Cam says. “Is there anything else you remember about him?”
“He was wearing a tux. His hair was shorter, parted to the left. He had rimless glasses and a goatee. Nothing else was different.”
“Do you remember seeing him anywhere else?” Harry asks.
“Nothing substantiated. I don’t think anyone’s been tailing me, and Rebecca never mentioned anyone tailing her either.”
We’re all quiet for a few seconds, I’m sure all thinking the same thing. The most important question of our jobs. Why? Was it because of her high profile? Maximum shock value? Or was it more personal? She’s like my sister…
A tech rushes in, eyes wide. He looks at me, almost afraid, before turning to Harry. “Sir, we found something.” He glances at me again. “You should all see this.”
We follow him out into the living room where three techs huddle around the now closed front door taking pictures and dusting for prints. They stop and part as we walk up, worry all over their faces. There’s a photo tacked onto the back of the door. It’s from today’s newspaper, the same one I was reading a lifetime ago. The first family of Galilee all smiling. Except for me. My face is burned off by a single drop of acid.
All eyes turn to me to gage my reaction, but I feel nothing. Not anger like Cam or terror like Harry. I’m just numb. Maybe I’m in shock. I’m not cold, which happens to people in shock. I’m more upset by the people watching me. I don’t like it. I walk back to the kitchen.
“Everyone back to work,” Cam barks behind me.
As I sit at the table, Harry and Cam walk in. “Can you please leave us?” Harry asks the techs. They bow their heads and do as he says. “You too, Cam.”
“Sir?”
“I need to talk to Det. Fallon alone.”
The always protective Cam straightens his back. “Sir?”
“You are needed upstairs, Detective. Go.”
Cam begrudgingly obeys, throwing me a sympatric look as he does. I’d still rather be in here getting my butt handed to me than up there with them. “I can’t believe I missed that,” I say. “It’s from today’s paper. It must be Rebecca’s. Maybe one of the neighbors saw him—”
“You’re going to have twenty-four hour police protection until we find this fucker,” Harry says forcefully. I’m surprised by his vehemence. He’s scared, probably more so than I am.
“No way.”
“This is not up for debate, Joanna. If I thought you’d stay there I’d put you in a safe house. You can’t stay at your apartment. It’s not secure.”
“I’ll probably be staying at Justin’s. It’s got a gate and a state-of-the-art security system. I don’t need babysitters following me around. I’m police. I can take care of myself.”
“The man who has killed about forty people and raped at least two has just threatened your life. I am not taking any chances, okay? If you don’t agree to the guards and fully comply, I’ll toss your ass into a cell at the station and watch you myself.”
This is where I would make a kinky comment if the last twenty-four hours had never happened. I can’t even think of one, let alone fight him on this. “Fine. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“And as of right now, you’re off the case.”
“I figured.”
He sighs and hangs his head. We don’t speak for a few seconds, and for the first time I’m uncomfortable in his presence. Part of me wants him to leave me alone, but the bigger part wants to fall into his arms and cling to him until it’s all over. I can’t even look at him, let alone touch him. I don’t deserve to, and I think he finally realizes it. “Do you need anything? I can call Dr. Newman.”
“I don’t need a shrink. I’m fine.”
“Of course you are. You’re always fine.” He pauses, trying to pull up the correct words. “This isn’t your fault, Jo.”
I can’t be in this house a moment longer. I stand and walk over to him, though I don’t meet his gaze. “Of course it is. It’s all my fault. All of it. Always. It’s all on me. You of all people should realize that. Bye, Harry.”
With my head hung I walk out of the kitchen, past the glancing techs, the shouting reporters with their cameras, to my car. Their swarming doesn’t stop me from pulling out and driving as fast as I can out of there, as most guilty do when they leave the scene of their crime. I’m no different.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Broken
A police cruiser follows me to Justin’s but waits outside the gate as I enter. I’m sure Harry’s ordered them to stay within ten feet of me at all times, but I shut the gate before they can get in. I need them to keep their distance for today. Justin and Lucy have more important things to worry about than me.
Dobbs, the butler/chauffer, opens the door for me. His grief is written all over his wrinkled face. He’s been the Pendergast butler for forty-four years, running this house like a tight ship, thirty of those years with the help of his wife Leigh, who was the maid before she passed away. He’s always been kind to me, having the cook make my favorite meals and dropping or picking me up when I’d come over. He’s even the one who taught Justin and me how to drive and sail. Justin practices that last one a lot more than I do, but I’m a great first mate when I’m there.
Dobbs shuts the door and we stand in the large entranceway, the crystal chandelier glittering like fairy dust above our heads. At least that’s how Daisy described it. Bowing his head, Dobbs says, “Terrible day.”
“The worst.”
“You found them?”
“Yes.”
He squeezes my arm. “I am so sorry.”
“Me, too. I know how fond you are—were of them.”
“Yes. I was looking forward to the sound of children once more. Now, I fear these walls will never hear them again.” I have no idea what to say to that, so I hang my head and say nothing. He swallows down his emotions and is his professional self again. “Miss Lucy is in the parlor.”
“Thank you, Dobbs.”
I start toward the parlor until Dobbs says, “Miss Joanna?”
I turn around. “Yeah?”
“When it comes time to meet Master Justin, would it be possible for me to drive you two? I just want to…be there for him.”
“Of course. It’ll mean a lot to him, you being there.”
“Thank you, Miss Joanna.”
I nod before going to find Lucy. On the way, I pass the paintings on the walls. “The Hall of Pendergast,” I call it. It’s a family tradition dating back nine generations to commission a family portrait and hang it here. They’re always the same with the husband on the l
eft, children on the right, and mother sitting in a chair between them. The first dates back to the seventeen hundreds when the city was founded. Jeremiah Pendergast was one of the first to settle here, quickly building his milling and then shipping empire while his wife Ellen started the Daughters of the Falls, a charity organization still around today that every socialite is in or trying to be in. The last portrait is of Justin when he was nine with his father and mother. She had to be painted in using a photo as she died of breast cancer when Justin was six. He got her lips and chin, but the rest belongs to the Pendergast’s. All are blonde, blue-eyed Gods and Goddesses right down the line.
One night, when I was about twenty, I accompanied Justin to his cousin Jeanne’s wedding in St. Croix. While we were walking along the beach, he asked me if I ever thought I’d get married. Of course I wanted to blurt out, “Yes, to you,” but instead said, “I don’t know.” Good thing I did, because he said with utter confidence, “I never will. Never. And I won’t bring children into this world either. I wouldn’t do that to any of them.” Then she came and it all changed. She melted his heart, brought it to life. She gave him hope. Now, I doubt this wall will ever get a new edition.
Lucy sits behind the desk at the bay window overlooking the ocean, the telephone pressed against her ear. There’s a glass on the desk of what I think is Bourbon, her drink of choice, which she plays with nervously. “No, I don’t think they’ll release the names until the family has been notified. If anyone else calls, just tell them no comment. I’ve already called Gene and he’s drafting a statement. He’ll release it when he deems it necessary.” She listens. “Shannon, Joanna, and I can handle the funeral preparations.” She listens again. “Thank you. Good-bye.” She hangs up the phone, taking a moment before acknowledging me. “You arrived quickly.”
I sit on the couch, crossing my ankles like she’s told me to do for years. “Ladies do not sit like cowboys, Joanna.” Now I only sit like a cowboy in her presence just to tick her off. No desire to do that today. “I just had to give a statement.”
Justice (The Galilee Falls Trilogy) Page 16
