Cold Justice (Kali O'Brien series Book 5)

by Jonnie Jacobs

  The ripple effect of crime. There were always more victims than people realized. But Hannah didn’t appear to be one of them. “How about you? Have you managed to make a life for yourself?”

  “I saw a good therapist.”

  “I’m glad you were able to get help.”

  A thin smile. “Me too.” She looked Kali in the eye. “The truth is, I hated Wendy. I was jealous of her because she always got the attention. She was prettier, smarter—”

  “Older.”

  “I wanted to hurt her.” Hannah’s eyes grew glassy with tears. The girl with the good shrink disappeared, and in her place was a young woman weighted with guilt. “I did hurt her, too. Wendy only went out that night because I told her a lie. I said I had seen this guy she liked with another girl.”

  “Hannah—”

  She held up a hand. “I said I had a good therapist, and I meant it. It will always be there, what I did to her, but I’m learning to live my life in spite of that. Which is sort of why I’m here.”

  Kali waited for Hannah to continue.

  “News accounts of the recent murders keep referring to the Bayside Strangler. They say the murders are like the ones he committed.”

  “There are some similarities,” Kali said carefully.

  “Similarities?”

  “Right. Little things that appear similar to what we found with the Bayside Strangler. The yellow rose, for instance. And the love note.”

  “But Wendy never got a note. Not that we knew about.”

  Kali nodded. “That’s what makes this so hard. The earlier murders weren’t all identical, but there were key elements that tied them together. Some of those same elements have shown up in the recent deaths as well.”

  “So there’s a chance that Dwayne Davis wasn’t”—she swallowed and took a breath—”he wasn’t the Bayside Strangler?”

  So that was why Hannah Slade had come to see her. She wanted assurance that her sister’s killer wasn’t still out there.

  Kali felt a wash of sympathy for the young woman. “At the time of the trial, I was convinced Davis was guilty, and nothing has made me change my mind. Owen Nelson feels the same way.”

  “Then why—”

  “I suspect we’re dealing with what we call a copycat killer.”

  Hannah’s dark eyes narrowed in thought. “You mean someone who wants to make it look like Dwayne Davis is doing the killing?”

  “More or less.”

  “But Davis is dead. How is framing him going to help the killer get away with it?”

  “I don’t think it’s about escaping detection,” Kali said.

  “What’s the purpose then?”

  “It’s complicated. And I don’t claim to be an expert.” Kali spread her hands on her desk. “But I’m guessing our current killer gets a feeling of power from copying the Bayside Strangler. Those murders made headlines for months. The trial was big news too. Then there was the book and the movie. I think he might simply like being part of the action, so to speak.”

  “He’s doing it for the attention?”

  “That’s certainly part of it. He clearly wants us to see the connection with the Bayside Strangler case. And he’s enjoying the gamesmanship of the chase.”

  Hannah shivered. “That’s so disgusting. Thinking of killing as a game.”

  “I agree. But he isn’t the first.”

  “These murders have stirred things up again for us. My mother, especially, is very upset. Not that we’d gotten over Wendy’s death, especially since Davis wasn’t actually convicted of her murder. . . but with his execution we felt some closure. Now it’s, like, right there in our face again. My mother is reliving the whole nightmare, and I’m not doing so great either.”

  “I wish there were something I could do to make it easier on you.”

  Hannah took a breath. “Do you think you’ll catch him?”

  Kali’s public persona would have responded with confidence, but Hannah Slade deserved an honest answer. “I don’t know,” she said. “And I don’t know if we’ll catch him in time.”

  “Before he kills someone else, you mean?”

  Kali nodded.

  During the course of their conversation, Hannah had slowly relaxed into the chair. Now she sat forward again. She brought her hand to her face, pressing her knuckles against her lips. “It’s just so weird. Did you know the Bailey woman was murdered on the anniversary of Wendy’s death?”

  Kali sucked in her breath. At one time she’d known the date of Wendy’s murder, and the four others, but not anymore. And despite their looking for parallels, neither Kali nor the detectives had thought to check the dates. How could they have missed something so obvious?

  “Do you think he did that on purpose?” Hannah asked. “Part of the copycat thing?”

  “It could be. I hadn’t thought about the timing of the murders.” She wondered if the date of Jane Parkhurst’s death was equally significant.

  Hannah stood. “Thank you for seeing me. It was my mother, really, who pushed me to talk to you, but I’m glad I did. We were worried there’d been a mistake. That Davis wasn’t. . . That the real killer had come back.”

  Kali handed Hannah a business card. “Feel free to call me any time.”

  <><><>

  When Hannah had gone, Kali returned Bryce Keating’s call from earlier that morning. He was out, so she left a message. Then she dug out the dates of the five Bayside Strangler murders. They’d occurred over an eight-month period, but none of them matched the date of the Parkhurst murder.

  Kali poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at her desk mulling over the troublesome issue Hannah’s visit had raised. What were the odds that two similar murders would occur on the same date simply by chance? Kali wasn’t a statistician, but the odds had to be pretty slim. That meant their killer had made a conscious decision about when to start his murder spree.

  Why choose the date of Wendy Gilchrist’s murder, though, and not one of the others? Maybe because it was the last of the Bayside Strangler killings. Picking up where the others left off, so to speak. Or maybe because her murder hadn’t been pinned on Davis, at least not in court. And one thing Kali knew for sure about their killer was that he enjoyed taunting them.

  It was possible, too, that the dates of the other four Strangler murders were important and she just didn’t see how yet. Phases of the moon? Evening temperatures?

  Or perhaps there was something about Wendy Gilchrist and/or her murder that appealed to their killer. Kali kept coming back to Dunworthy’s theory that their killer felt some personal tie to the Strangler. What if the connection was to Wendy Gilchrist and not the Strangler?

  She chewed on the possible significance of dates, noting days of the week and timing between murders in the margin of her notes. The days were random as far as she could tell. The timing was too. Five months between the first and second; two-and-a-half months between the second and third; only ten days between the third and the fourth; and then three weeks until Wendy Gilchrist’s murder.

  She remembered Dunworthy explaining that thrill killers often experienced an increasing and heightened urge to kill again. It was almost as though once they’d opened the door by acting on their fantasy, there was no holding back. They often tried, Dunworthy said, but the compulsion to kill became stronger with each “success.”

  And yet, Kali noted, the interval between the fourth and fifth murders was actually longer than between the third and fourth.

  Unless you removed Wendy Gilchrist from the calculations. Kali sat forward, suddenly energized. Discounting Wendy’s death, the interval between each murder was approximately half of the previous one. If she were to graph the acceleration, it wouldn’t be a perfectly smooth slope, but the pattern was clear. Was that because Wendy’s killer was someone other than Davis?

  Kali’s assurances to Hannah Slade seemed suddenly hollow. Perhaps she’d spoken too hastily.

  Wendy Gilchrist’s murder had always been problematic. At seventeen,
she was younger than the other victims, although she hadn’t looked it. There’d been no note sent with the rose, and no dog collar around her neck. But there’d been no dog collar with the first victim, Joanna Paget, either. They’d theorized it was a touch Davis added after the first murder, and then, for some reason, overlooked with Wendy Gilchrist.

  But the rest of it fit. She’d been strangled, though it appeared her killer had used something softer than rope. Her body had been found near an overflowing trash can in a secluded area of the UC Berkeley campus. And like the other victims, she’d been dressed provocatively.

  Unlike the other victims, however, Wendy Gilchrist had not been raped. Neither had Anne or Jane Parkhurst. What’s more, none of the three had been posed in the same degrading fashion as the first four Strangler victims. Dunworthy had said that was important, as she recalled.

  A knot formed in Kali’s stomach as a new thought took hold. Was it possible the Bayside Strangler had been not one individual, but two? Two separate killers who by plan or happenstance followed a similar pattern in their attacks?

  The sound of her own pulse echoed in her ears. She needed to talk to Owen.

  When Kali reached Owen’s office, she caught him about to leave for a meeting with his campaign staff.

  “I was hoping to talk with you,” she said.

  He glanced at his Rolex. “I’ve got a few minutes still. What’s up?”

  “Wendy Gilchrist.”

  “The Bayside Strangler’s last victim?” He’d placed the name immediately. “What about her?”

  “Her sister came to see me this morning. She was troubled by news reports playing up the similarities between those murders and the recent ones.”

  The fan of wrinkles at the outer comers of Owen’s eyes grew more pronounced. “We are all troubled by the similarities.”

  “She pointed out that Anne’s murder occurred on the same date her sister’s did, eight years ago. I’m thinking the timing has to be somehow significant.”

  “We know the killer wants us to make the connection with the Bayside Strangler murders.” Owen’s tone was deliberately cautious.

  “But what if the jury was right in acquitting Davis of Wendy Gilchrist’s murder? What if there was a second killer operating at the same time, and he’s resurfaced?”

  “Eight years later?”

  She knew it wasn’t a scenario Owen was eager to embrace. On the other hand, he’d hired her because he wanted an investigation that was above politics. “If you look at the dates of the Strangler murders,” she said, “it’s clear the interval between killings is less with each one, except for the last—Wendy Gilchrist’s.”

  “Killers aren’t robots, Kali. You have to look at general trends and not get too caught up in minor deviations.”

  “Also, the murders we’re dealing with now are more like Wendy Gilchrist’s than the others.”

  “How so?”

  “No dog collar, for one. And the poem sent to the police after her death wasn’t haiku as I recall.”

  Owen raked a hand over his cheek. “No offense, Kali, but you put too much store in this poetry business. Nobody but you even recognized the poems were haiku.”

  “She wasn’t raped either.”

  “No, but she had her period, right? Wasn’t that how we dealt with that discrepancy?”

  Kali nodded. Owen’s calm made her reconsider. Had she been too quick to see meaning where there wasn’t any? “You think I’m off the mark, then?”

  “Jesus, a second killer.” Owen raked a hand through the silver hair at his temples. “There was talk about that at the time of the trial.”

  And the prosecution had effectively countered it.

  “I guess it can’t hurt to quietly explore the possibility,” Owen said, after a moment. His voice was low and throaty. “Maybe look at some names the cops had before they zeroed in on Davis. I hope you’ll be careful though”—he paused and cleared his throat—”extremely careful not to make it appear we’re now looking at someone other than Davis as the Bayside Strangler.”

  Even though they both knew in their hearts it might be a possibility, no matter how slight. Owen’s expression was set, and ever so slightly guarded. Not one Kali had seen him wear before.

  What would Owen do if faced with credible evidence that Davis wasn’t the right man? What would she do?

  And what would happen with the election? Owen was, to Kali’s mind, the best candidate by far for governor. Her support of his candidacy went beyond loyalty to a friend and mentor. Owen had the integrity and foresight California so badly needed. Qualities so lacking in his opponents that it was frightening. Owen had to win the primary.

  In theory, Owen’s role in putting Davis away shouldn’t be an issue, but Kali knew how it would play out in the press and in people’s minds if it turned out Davis was innocent.

  “I’ll be careful,” she said.

  “I know you will. That’s why I asked you to do the job you’re doing.” He picked up his briefcase and pushed back his chair. “Sorry, but I need to get going.”

  Kali walked with him to the elevator. “How’s the campaigning?”

  He grimaced. “Being governor, should I be so lucky, will be a piece of cake compared to running for office.” And then he laughed. “But neither is as hard as being a father.”

  “Alex giving you trouble again?”

  “Not trouble really, but I certainly can’t do anything right.”

  She smiled. “My only experience in that regard is as a kid, but I gather tension between parents and kids is a fairly universal phenomenon.”

  Owen’s expression registered skepticism. “I think Alex takes it into new territory.”

  Kali returned to her office just as the phone on her direct line was ringing. It was Bryce Keating.

  “We traced the dress Jane Parkhurst was wearing,” he told her. “It’s some exclusive designer type, only one made in each size. The woman who bought it got a stain on the dress and donated it to the Salvation Army.” Keating’s voice carried a hint of disdain. “So we know where our killer shops, though we haven’t been able to take it any further.”

  “There can’t be many designer dresses sold at Salvation Army stores.”

  “No, but the salesclerks don’t pay a lot of attention to people’s purchases, either.”

  Nor, Kali imagined, would they recognize a designer dress if they saw one. She certainly hadn’t.

  “We’ve asked them to keep an eye out in the future,” Keating said. “For all the good it will do.”

  “In Davis’s case we managed to find several purchases he’d made through catalogues like Victoria’s Secret. They matched some of the clothing found on the victims. But that was all after the fact, in preparation for trial.” Kali paused, her conversation with Owen still fresh in her mind. “Are the case files from the Bayside Strangler investigation still around?”

  “I don’t know. They must be, but no place readily accessible.”

  “The lead detective on the case, Sam Eastman. I know he’s retired now. I don’t suppose you know how to reach him?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. He moved up to the Truckee area. Why?”

  “No reason, really. Just thinking about the parallels, then and now.” She wrote Truckee on a message slip. It was a long drive, probably easier to call. “I had a visit today from the sister of Wendy Gilchrist, the last Strangler victim.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “She wanted reassurance, I think, that her sister’s killer wasn’t still out there.”

  “Understandable.”

  “She raised an interesting point, though. Anne’s murder took place on the anniversary of Wendy Gilchrist’s death.” When Keating didn’t respond, she added, “In some ways our recent murders are more like Wendy Gilchrist’s than the other four Strangler victims’.”

  “How’s that?”

  Kali went through the same explanation she’d given Owen. “I’m not sure what it all means, tho
ugh. Maybe it was the Gilchrist murder that struck a chord with our killer, not the Strangler himself. Or even . . .” Kali paused, then pushed ahead. “There was some speculation during the Davis trial that the Strangler murders were the work of two different killers.”

  “That’s why you were asking about Eastman.”

  The man was quick.

  There was a moment’s silence during which it sounded as though Keating was getting ready to say something more; then, abruptly, he ended the conversation with a “Got to run, talk to you later,” and was gone.

  <><><>

  In the late afternoon, Kali finally reached Sam Eastman. The first time she’d called, no one answered. The second time, his wife said he was asleep. On the third call, however, Sam Eastman answered the phone himself. Kali remembered him from the trial, A burly man with deep-set eyes and weathered skin. The sort of cop who could intimidate a suspect just by looking at him. She was surprised that he remembered her, as well.

  “Sure, there were two of you gals as I recall.”

  Kali found his terminology amusing, though she knew women who would have been insulted and called him on it in an instant.

  “And a young black man. I always suspected Owen had him on board to counter the defense’s race argument.”

  Corey Redmond, who’d married money and traded the practice of law for a seat on the boards of several family-owned companies. Last she’d heard, he had twin daughters and his own jet.

  “The other woman on the team was murdered recently,” Kali said.

  “Really? Sorry to hear that. What happened?”

  She gave him an overview of the murders.

  “I heard something about that on the news.”

  “It’s actually why I’m calling.”

  “A Bayside Strangler copycat, huh?”

  “It looks that way. Unless maybe he was working in tandem with Davis all along.”

  “Nah, Davis would have turned him over to us if that were the case. Maybe even saved his neck in the deal.”

  Kali hesitated. “Assuming he knew who the other killer was.”

  “You saying you think Davis was good for only some of the crimes?”