Killer in Sight (A Tom Lackey Mystery)

by Sandra Carrington-Smith

  Kathy laughed. “You silly man! But that is exactly

  why I love you so. Let’s go eat.”

  They walked into the kitchen together, and Kathy

  turned on the burner to warm up the chicken, while she

  placed a small baguette on a cookie sheet and tucked it

  into the oven. She poured Tom a glass of wine and got a

  new glass for herself, since she had left her other one in

  the living room. “So, anything new on the girl?”

  Tom took a sip of wine before he answered. “Her

  name is Tracey Newman. The medical examiner still

  needs to confirm through dental records, but she looks

  exactly like a young woman who was reported missing

  last week. Aside from a gunshot wound, the body was

  intact, so it was easy to recognize. She was originally

  from Missouri, and was in Raleigh working as a

  physician assistant at Wake Memorial. She was twentythree.” Tom took another sip of wine and looked down.

  “In my job, I see death often, but no matter how many

  years I have done this, it is still hard to see such a

  promising young life being snuffed so senselessly and

  so early.”

  Kathy touched his hand in a gesture of comfort. “I

  know, Tom. Death rarely makes sense, but in cases such

  as this it is impossible for a normal mind to wrap itself

  around the reasoning behind it. Nothing is more

  precious than life, and yet people kill every day over

  money, over lovers, over meaningless disputes. I have

  thought about this young woman on and off all day; I

  have thought of her, and of her family; I have tried to

  put myself in her mother’s shoes, and even that was

  almost too painful to bear. Has the family been

  notified?”

  “Yes. This afternoon, and they are not taking it well.

  We are flying them in to identify the body. They are

  going to be devastated, especially her mother. From

  what I’ve heard, she is still deeply in denial. We got the

  name of the family dentist in St. Louis, and Tracey’s

  stepfather has already requested release of the records to

  us. Hopefully, we will have them in the morning.”

  Tracey…what a lovely name… Kathy’s mind was

  trying to process the information Tom had made

  available, and she became quiet for a moment. Then,

  before Tom could ask anything, she stood up, went to

  fetch two plates from the cupboard, and filled them with

  steaming chicken cacciatora. She refilled their glasses

  and took the bread out of the oven, then carried

  everything to the table. They ate in silence for the most

  part, only making small talk about meaningless and

  mundane matters that didn’t touch either of them

  personally.

  After their dinner, they washed dishes together, and

  then headed to bed. Kathy brought her novel along, but

  she couldn’t concentrate on the words, so she turned off

  her reading light and lay still in the darkness of the

  room, careful not to wake Tom. Tracey, who did this to

  you? I wish you could tell me.

  Another sound echoed in the silence of the hallway,

  and Kathy jumped. Tom stirred but didn’t wake up, so

  Kathy got up and went to check. When she turned on the

  light in the hallway, her camera was on the floor again.

  How could this be? Her mind raced in a million

  directions to seek a logical answer—maybe Tom had

  accidentally bumped it when he put down his keys? But

  if so, why did it wait so long to fall? She picked it up

  carefully and looked at it, wishing in her heart that the

  device could talk. She examined the camera again, and

  as had happened earlier, nothing seemed to be wrong

  with it. She put it down—this time against the wall and

  behind her handbag and sunglasses—and walked back

  slowly toward the bedroom, still wondering what could

  have caused the camera to fall. A sudden flash of light

  through the window made her gasp, but no thunder

  followed it—heat lightning, probably. She lay in bed

  and pulled the covers up to her chin, needing the

  comfort of something soft and warm. Tracey didn’t have

  anything soft and warm to comfort her before falling

  into eternal sleep…

  Chapter 4

  Rose Howard held her daughter’s hand while her

  husband checked their luggage at one of the kiosks in

  Lambert International Airport. The airport was still

  showing signs of damage from the tornado that had

  slammed through the structure just a couple of weeks

  before, and even if most of the damage was

  concentrated in Concourse C, the whole terminal buzzed

  with technicians and other personnel busy getting things

  back to normal. After they were checked in, they cleared

  security in Concourse A and, as they waited in line,

  Rose looked at every face in the crowd, expecting to see

  Tracey among the multitude of people rushing to catch

  their flights. But there was no Tracey. Rose felt

  disappointed, but didn’t dare to voice her feelings to

  Mike, who was already worried enough. Mike was

  wrong, they were all wrong. Rose couldn’t wait to

  confirm that the girl they had found wasn’t her daughter.

  Mike had begged her to remain home with Alexis, but

  Rose had refused. There was no time for Alexis to go to

  Mike’s mother, so they all decided to travel together; if

  anything, because they needed to feel the closeness of

  family.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee, Sweetheart?”

  Mike’s voice was full of concern.

  “No, thank you. I had a cup before we left home.

  Alexis might like some hot chocolate, though.” Rose

  loved Mike, but right now she couldn’t stand the way he

  was hovering over her, so she was glad when Alexis

  nodded her head excitedly at the prospect of hot

  chocolate.

  The two of them walked away together, and Rose

  watched them slowly blend in with the crowd until they

  disappeared from sight. She was a bit worried about

  Alexis, and felt guilty about her own reaction the day

  before. Alexis hadn’t said a word after that, and she

  barely picked at her food when she was called down to

  dinner. Phantom Lily—as Rose and Mike had come to

  call the imaginary friend over the years—was not

  mentioned again, but Rose knew Alexis still believed it

  was really a girl and that she could talk to it.

  The weather today was overcast, and the wind was

  blowing fiercely. Rose hoped it would cause no flight

  delays. So far, their flight was still on schedule, so she

  wedged her soft carry-on bag between her head and the

  wall and closed her eyes. She must have dozed off,

  because when Mike and Alexis came back from getting

  hot chocolate, it was already time to board.

  She walked the ramp with resolve, her mind telling

  her that this trip would clear up all the mistakes and

  Tracey would come home, while her heart whispered an

  entirely different truth: When she allowed herself to

&n
bsp; listen to that inner voice she felt queasy.

  In spite of the wind, the plane took off smoothly; in

  no time at all they were above the Gateway Arch, right

  before clouds got in the way, and Rose felt as if she and

  her family were floating through a limbo. Musing

  briefly about Dante’s description of traveling from hell

  to limbo, and then to Paradise, it struck Rose that her

  own journey seemed to be moving backwards.

  “Mom, how long will it take us to get there?” The

  sound of Alexis’s voice was a welcome distraction.

  “About an hour and thirty minutes, Sweetie. It’s not

  too far.”

  Alexis was satisfied with the answer and she settled

  into her seat with a magazine.

  “What is the name of the detective who’s meeting

  us at the airport?” Rose asked Mike who lay against the

  seat with his eyes closed.

  “Lieutenant Lackey, I think. I have it in my

  organizer. I assume they already made hotel reservations

  for us,” Mike replied, closing his eyes again. Rose

  wondered if his eyes were just tired from watching her

  relentlessly. That thought made her smile.

  “Strange name, Lackey. I wonder where his family

  came from.” Rose interjected.

  “Yeah, it sounds Irish, or Scottish maybe.” Mike

  smiled at her, obviously relieved by her willingness to

  engage in small talk.

  They went through the rest of the trip without

  talking much, each of them pretending to be busy with

  something—crosswords and a kid’s magazine featuring

  Justin Bieber—so they wouldn’t need to dwell on what

  was waiting for them once they got off the plane in

  North Carolina.

  #

  Tom left for work before Kathy even got out of bed.

  When she woke up and went to the kitchen to get coffee,

  she saw the note he had left for her on the table. I will

  call later and explain, but could you meet me at the

  station at ten? She glanced at the digital clock on the

  stove and saw that it was only a little after seven. She

  had plenty of time to have coffee and to go by the

  studio, so she lazily reached out for the coffee pot and

  inhaled deeply. The seductive aroma of coffee snaked its

  way through her nostrils and reached her brain. The love

  affair between Kathy and coffee was one that had begun

  when she was only a teenager, and as years passed, the

  bond had tightened even more, if that was possible. She

  watched as the steaming brown liquid flowed

  effortlessly from the pot to the cup, and she silently

  thanked the unknown person who initially had the

  brilliant idea to roast beans, grind them and turn them

  into a beverage. The first sip was always monumental in

  her day, and she couldn’t imagine starting her mornings

  without it. After two cups and a shower, she tried to call

  Tom before she left the house. As always, she got his

  answering machine, so she picked up her keys, camera

  and mobile phone and headed out the door. She hadn’t

  even started the engine when the phone rang.

  ”Hey Sweetie, good morning.” Even after all the

  years together, Tom’s voice had the power to turn an

  average day into a good one.

  “Good morning to you. I didn’t even hear you leave

  this morning.”

  “It was super early. I needed to come in for a while,

  to make sure everything was in place before Tracey’s

  parents get here.”

  “What time are they flying in?”

  “Just after noon. And this leads me to ask…would

  you go with me?”

  Kathy was a little surprised by Tom’s request. “To

  pick them up, you mean? Why?”

  “I have to go meet Doctor Greer as soon as I drop

  them off. I wondered if maybe you could hang out with

  them for a while and see that they are settled in. Given

  that you have a degree in psychology, maybe you can

  even suggest ways to cope with what they are going

  through. I know you have chosen to pursue a different

  career, but these people are probably in great need of a

  few good words.”

  Kathy was a little taken aback. In all the years they

  had been together, Tom had never mentioned her

  education as a clinical psychologist, and she wondered

  why this case was different. Regardless, she agreed.

  “Sure. Do you want me to meet you somewhere? In the

  message, you mentioned meeting at the station.”

  “Actually, the airport or the hotel would be great.

  That way I can go as soon as I introduce them to you.”

  “Which hotel is it?”

  “The Ramada Inn on Capital. Do you know where it

  is?”

  “Yes. What time do you want me to meet you?”

  “I called the airport, and they confirmed the flight is

  going to be on time. It will take us about 30 minutes to

  drive back from the airport, so do you want to meet us

  around one, at the restaurant adjacent to the hotel?”

  “It sounds great. I will see you there.”

  “Thank you, Honey. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Kathy clicked the end button on her phone and

  placed it on the passenger seat before she looked at her

  watch—9:30. There was time to go by her studio and

  work on the bridal portraits she had abandoned

  yesterday. When she arrived at the studio, she

  immediately sat at her desk and started her computer,

  working for the next hour and a half with no distraction.

  When she was finally happy with the results, she hit

  “Save,” and was about to turn off the system when her

  eyes rested for a moment on her camera. It was so

  strange how the camera had fallen from the table last

  night! Not just once, but twice—how could something

  like that happen? She decided to upload the photos she

  shot around the house to her computer, to make sure the

  machine wasn’t damaged. Connecting the camera to the

  USB connector, she waited until the images appeared on

  the screen. At first glance they appeared fuzzy, so Kathy

  swallowed a spontaneous word her mother would not

  have been proud of, and clicked on one of the images to

  better understand what the problem was. The picture

  enlarged to cover most of the screen, and it showed the

  table in the hallway, but it appeared to be superimposed

  with a filmy, white splash of light. Had the flash gone

  off? She hadn’t noticed it when she shot the photo, but

  now she couldn’t be sure. She clicked on the other

  photos; the same sheer image also showed up in front of

  the couch, the sink in the guest bathroom, different areas

  of the kitchen, and the staircase. What could it be?

  Could it be possible that the flash was activated when

  she took all the photos and she didn’t notice? Maybe the

  camera was damaged after all.

  She sent the images to the laser printer to look at

  them more closely. After they were printed, she took

  them to her desk and arranged them side by side un
der

  the light. Now that she could look at all of them in

  sequence, she noticed something very strange: The

  foggy image over the items she had photographed was

  the same in all the pictures: same size, same shape, same

  optical illusion suggesting that what was staring at her

  from those photos was a woman screaming to get her

  attention. In one of the photos, the woman appeared to

  be pointing to a necklace laid on the bathroom counter.

  #

  Having never met Tracey’s parents, and not

  knowing what to expect about their appearance, Tom

  had prepared a sign with their name written with a

  broad-pointed black marker. When he saw a middleaged man about six feet tall, with sandy brown hair and dark brown eyes look in his direction, he immediately

  walked toward him. Detective Wheeler in St. Louis had

  indicated Mr. Howard was traveling with his wife Rose

  —Tracey Newman’s mother—but he hadn’t mentioned

  anything about a child coming along. He looked at Mrs.

  Howard, appreciating her quiet, simple beauty. Sporting

  mid-length blond hair and an attractive face even

  without make-up, Rose Howard was a very attractive

  woman and, as he focused on her face, he noticed that

  her resemblance to Tracey was breathtaking. The little

  girl traveling with them was very small, and Tom

  assumed she was only seven or eight years old. She had

  long blond hair, neatly combed into a pony tail. Her

  large blue eyes appeared sad and her shoulders slouched

  as she walked, as if she were carrying too big a burden

  for someone so young.

  “Mr. Howard? I am Lieutenant Lackey.”

  Mike Howard extended his hand and flashed a

  warm smile at Tom. Although he didn’t know for sure,

  Tom believed Mr. Howard to be a salesman.

  “Thank you for meeting us, Lieutenant. This is my

  wife, Rose, Tracey’s mother,” he said using his right

  hand to introduce the woman standing by his side. “And

  this is our daughter, Alexis.”

  Tom nodded toward Mrs. Howard. “Ma’am, thank

  you for coming.” Then he turned toward Alexis, and

  smiled kindly, offering a hand for her to shake. “Hi,

  Alexis, it is very nice to meet you.” Alexis smiled back

  but didn’t say a word.

  They walked through the terminal without speaking

  much, moving mechanically through the motions of

  retrieving their luggage and using the bathroom before