by T. R. Ragan
She was trembling now, and he was glad. He closed his eyes and felt a shiver course through his body.
Friday, June 8, 2012
As her anger dissipated on the drive home, Lizzy stared at the road ahead and couldn’t help but wonder where she’d gone wrong. All the bravado she’d felt earlier on the phone had vanished. Just when she was beginning to think her future looked promising, everything began to disintegrate. She hadn’t talked to her sister or her niece in weeks. She missed them both. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d thought about her mother, but she thought about her now. Mom lived in Hawaii. Cathy and Brittany had visited her in Maui a few months ago. They said she looked healthy and happy. Cathy never mentioned whether or not Mom had asked about Lizzy, but she didn’t have to say anything; Lizzy knew. Even now, after all these years, her mother and father blamed her for everything that had gone wrong in their lives. Lizzy’s therapist often reminded her that her parents were deflecting the responsibility away from themselves. Blaming someone else helped relieve them of some of the guilt they felt.
And then there was Jessica. She was young and bright, and it seemed every time Lizzy looked at her lately, she could see that Jessica was scared. Lizzy knew what needed to be done. She needed to fire Jessica, force her to move on before she got in too deep and allowed the darkness to swallow her whole.
Her phone rang and the screen displayed the caller ID. It was Jared. Thank God. She had left him a message asking him to call. She hit the Talk button on the console and said, “Are you OK?”
“I’m fine,” he said, his voice hurried. “I wanted to let you know that I won’t be coming home for a few days.”
“Are you going back to Quantico?”
“No. I’ll be here in Sacramento.”
“What’s going on?”
“A woman went missing today—Kassie Scott. Married for fourteen years. No kids.”
“Has it been on the news?”
“No. Her husband reported his wife missing a few hours ago. The FBI will be keeping this one under the radar. Every police department in Sacramento County was instructed to keep us informed in the event any females fitting the Lovebird Killer’s signature went missing.”
“I thought he didn’t have a signature.”
“He doesn’t, not really, since he tends to kill, kidnap, and dispose of the bodies in any number of ways. In the case of the most recent victims, though, the male was abducted twenty-four hours after he reported his partner missing. New evidence revealed the same thing happened with Rene and Harold Lofland. Apparently, one of Rene’s cleaning ladies had stayed behind to pocket a diamond bracelet, along with other expensive jewelry, when Mrs. Lofland arrived home. The cleaning lady was hiding out when she overheard Rene’s abductor tell her he would be returning for her husband.”
“And she didn’t report this until now?”
“She was caught trying to pawn the diamonds and was eager to escape jail time in exchange for information concerning Rene Lofland’s murder.”
“So, what’s the plan?”
“We need to act fast. This could be our chance to catch the Lovebird Killer in action. I’ll be staying with Drew Scott until the unsub makes contact.”
“What if the killer is expecting you?”
“There will be unmarked cars in the vicinity of where I’ll be staying. How’s your face?” Jared asked. “Are you still in pain?”
He was redirecting the conversation again, an art he had perfected. “I’m fine,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.”
“I love you,” he said. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you in a few days.”
“Jared,” she said, but the call was disconnected before she could tell him about the threatening phone call she’d received. She pulled into the driveway and sat in the car for a moment. She dialed his number. No answer.
She closed her eyes and tried to imagine a life without Jared in it. For the first time since she’d moved in with him, she knew that she was right where she needed to be. This was their home. This was where she belonged.
Jessica and Hayley had returned moments before they heard Lizzy’s car pull into the driveway. Files and papers were spread across the coffee table. They quickly moved things around, trying to make it look like they had been at the house all along.
Lizzy walked through the door at the same moment they both took a seat on the couch.
Although Lizzy’s face was still bruised from the attack in the park, Jessica saw dark shadows of exhaustion making half-circles under her eyes. Lizzy said a quick hello and then told them she was going to change her clothes and be right down.
While Lizzy was upstairs, Jessica whispered to Hayley, “That was too close.”
“Stop worrying. We made it back in time.”
“I’m going to tell Lizzy about Magnus and what’s going on with the Povo case.”
“Do what you have to,” Hayley said, “but leave out anything to do with my involvement. If Lizzy found out about my copycat ankle bracelet, she would be obligated to tell Jared since they’re both under court order to see that I follow the rules. They are officially, albeit temporarily, my legal guardians.”
“Got it,” Jessica said.
“I would leave out the part about the men wrestling with the knife, too.”
“Why?”
“What if she feels the need to call the police? What if they figure out where he lives? What would happen to your friend?”
Jessica didn’t like keeping anything from Lizzy, but Hayley was right. She didn’t know what Magnus was up to, and therefore she didn’t like the idea of getting him into trouble. Not yet. Not until she had a chance to talk to him. She needed to calm down and stop being so paranoid. Before she could say anything more to Hayley, she turned toward Lizzy, who was already making her way down the stairs.
Lizzy looked from Hayley to Jessica. “What’s going on?”
Without taking an extra breath, Jessica told Lizzy all about the Dominic Povo case: the bulky garbage bags and the impromptu meetings held in Povo’s trailer and the possible blood splatter. She also mentioned that she’d met with Magnus at a coffee shop and later went to the construction site again and saw Magnus threatened by two men. She left out anything to do with Hayley’s involvement.
“I don’t want you going anywhere near that construction site again, do you understand?”
The panic in Lizzy’s voice was unmistakable. “You don’t have to tell me twice,” Jessica said, “but what about Magnus?”
“Magnus is the man you met in the coffee shop?” Lizzy asked.
Jessica nodded. “He works for Dominic and I’m worried about him.”
“He’s bad news,” Hayley told Lizzy. “Magnus knows that Jessica works for you. How would he know that unless he did some investigating of his own? And why would he investigate some girl sitting in a car watching them unless he was up to no good?”
Jessica gave Hayley dagger eyes. “But—”
“No buts,” Lizzy said, stopping Jessica from saying anything more. “We’re going to drop the Povo case until Danielle Cartwright returns from Europe. She’s our client. We’ll hear what Danielle has to say and then take it from there.”
“OK, fine,” Jessica said, sinking back into the couch.
Lizzy took a seat and looked directly at Hayley. “Why don’t you get me up to date on the Adele Hampton adoption case?”
“I made some calls, but long story short, the few leads I had turned cold,” she lied. “I’ve talked to Adele’s mom and I have to say…I believe she wants to find Adele so she can use her daughter as a publicity stunt for her husband’s campaign.”
“What did she say to make you think that?” Lizzy asked.
“It’s what she didn’t say.” Hayley exhaled. “Either way, I’m working a few different angles, and I should have more information in a few days.”
Jessica pretended to take notes, but she felt a tremendous urge to quit right then and there. She was tired of all the ly
ing, the danger, and the stress that came with the job. Unfortunately, she needed the money and she happened to adore Lizzy Gardner. The last thing she would do was leave Lizzy when she needed her most. Hayley was another story. Jessica was tired of being manipulated by her, tired of her constant lying and playing games—tired of breaking the law. They had barely escaped John Robinson’s neighborhood unnoticed, and she was still feeling the effects. If Lizzy knew they had gone anywhere near John Robinson’s house today, what would she do?
“Is there a problem?” Lizzy asked Jessica, obviously sensing her anxiety.
“Nope.”
“Jessica has been busy,” Hayley said. “Not only did she check on my mom, she’s going to school, studying, and working too many hours on the Dominic Povo case. She also managed to get pictures proving that two of the six workers’ compensation claims were fraudulent. Both cases were closed in record time. The insurance company is impressed.”
Lizzy nodded. “Perfect. Thank you, Jessica.”
“Sure, it’s what I do,” Jessica said without looking up. Yes, it was true, two cases were closed, but Hayley was the one who had done all of the work, pictures included. But, of course, Hayley had no choice but to give Jessica the credit, since nobody could know that Hayley was out gallivanting around town.
“Somebody’s at the door,” Hayley said.
Lizzy walked across the room, looked out the peephole, and then opened the door.
It was Stacey Whitmore from Channel 10 News.
“I need to talk to you,” Stacey said.
“Come on in.”
As Lizzy locked the door behind her, Stacey stepped farther inside. Instead of her usual two-piece suit, she wore dark designer jeans and black ballet flats with gold chain accents. A white silk blouse peeked out from beneath a fitted red jacket. Every hair was in place. Although the woman was well dressed and looked put together, it was easy to see that she was on the verge of having a mental breakdown. Jessica knew the feeling, and her heart went out to the lady.
“These are my assistants,” Lizzy said, gesturing toward the girls. “This is Jessica and Hayley.”
Stacey nodded. With introductions out of the way, Lizzy and Stacey moved to the kitchen. “Can I get you anything?” Lizzy asked.
“No, thank you. I came because I need to get something off my chest.”
“Should we move to the backyard for privacy?”
The woman looked at Jessica and Hayley and then shook her head. “No need. Here’s fine.”
“OK, what’s going on?”
“It’s about Michael.” Stacey gestured toward the television set. “It’s all over the news. They think he’s the Lovebird Killer. He’s the FBI’s number one suspect.”
Michael wasn’t the only suspect, but Lizzy didn’t say anything about that.
“You knew about this.” Stacey rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I couldn’t.”
“What does the FBI have on Michael? You told me yourself you were at his house. What did they find?”
Hayley looked at Jessica and mouthed the words “What’s going on?”
Jessica shook her head, letting Hayley know she had no idea.
“Off the record?” Lizzy asked.
“Off the record,” Stacey answered.
“The connection between Michael and the Lovebird Killer has to do with the pine sawyer beetle.”
Stacey narrowed her eyes, her surprise apparent. “Pine sawyer beetles,” she said under her breath.
Lizzy nodded. “Right now, it’s my understanding that the beetle is their only connection.”
Stacey pulled out a stool and took a seat. She looked dazed.
“Evidently, the Lovebird Killer is fascinated with the beetle. Over the past five years, he’s left the beetles somewhere in the vicinity of the bodies, on or near his victims.”
“So what you’re telling me is they found this beetle at Michael’s house. The real killer could’ve planted the insect there. It’s just as he said—he’s been set up. That makes sense, don’t you think?”
Lizzy said nothing. Kassie’s abduction changed everything, and yet she didn’t want to say too much and risk putting Jared in further danger.
“If I remember correctly, Channel 10 News ran a story about the pine sawyer beetle once,” Stacey said, her eyes suddenly alert. “God, it had to be at least ten years ago. The story involved an elderly couple. If I remember correctly, they were embalmers and it was discovered that they had stuffed two dead bodies with those same beetles.”
“You weren’t working for Channel 10 News at the time.”
“I’ve been watching every show since I knew I wanted to be in broadcasting. I would memorize every movement the reporters made: how they talked, their expressions, what they did with their hands. I was in my last year of college and the media had Lewinsky and Clinton, Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa. We had economic turmoil and hurricanes over the Caribbean to worry about. Nobody cared about a few bodies stuffed with beetles.”
Jessica felt sick to her stomach. Gross. A few minutes ago, when she and Hayley had been scrambling around, Jessica had grabbed a file from the coffee table, hoping to look busy. A business card had slid out of the file and onto her lap. Jessica fiddled with the card while she listened to Lizzy and Stacey talk. When she finally examined the card closer, she saw the name “Belle Gunness” scribbled on one side. Something wasn’t right. The name was familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on where she might have met the woman or why the name was so familiar.
Hayley was clacking away on her keyboard, as usual. “Yep, she’s right,” Hayley said. “The couple’s names were Karen and Todd Beck. They were embalmers and they lived in Lincoln, California.” Hayley looked at Lizzy. “Didn’t you go to Lincoln today?”
Lizzy nodded.
“It looks like the Becks pleaded guilty and were let off with a slap on the wrist,” Hayley added.
“I’ll call my assistant,” Stacey said, “and see if she can locate the transcript.”
Jessica looked at Lizzy and held up the card for Lily’s Flower Shop. “This business card for Lily’s Flower Shop was one of the vendors Jennifer Dalton was using for her anniversary party, is that right?”
Lizzy nodded.
“Did you see the name scribbled on the back of the card?”
“I did,” Lizzy said. “I went to the shop and talked to the owner.”
“Did you talk to Belle Gunness?”
“I asked about her, but the owner said she would be gone until Thanksgiving. What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure,” Jessica said. “Her name sounds familiar, that’s all.”
CHAPTER 26
I hated all my life. I hated everybody. When I first grew up and can remember, I was dressed as a girl by my mother. And I stayed that way for two or three years. And after that I was treated like what I call the dog of the family. I was beaten. I was made to do things that no human bein’ would want to do.
—Henry Lee Lucas
Sacramento
Friday, June 8, 2012
The call that Kassie Scott was missing came in at exactly 7:43 p.m. on Friday. By 9:22 p.m., the FBI had a plan.
Drew Scott, the man who had called in saying his wife was missing, was instructed to go immediately to the market on 10th and Oak. He was to go into the store, buy milk, and return home. He was told where to park and to leave his car unlocked. He was to be quick, get in and get out.
Furthermore, the agency told Drew not to be alarmed when he returned to his car and found a man hunkered down in the backseat. That man would be FBI agent Jared Shayne. If Drew’s wife, Kassie, had been taken by the Lovebird Killer, then that meant, more than likely, the killer would be watching Drew’s every move.
Two minutes after Drew parked his car at the market, exactly as instructed, a large delivery truck obstructed all views of the vehicle, allowing Jared less than thirty seconds to climb into the vehicle unseen. The plan had
been put into place after it was determined that the chance of being seen sneaking an agent into Drew’s car was far less risky than sneaking an agent into Drew Scott’s house.
It all happened fast, so fast that not even fifteen minutes passed between Drew’s leaving his house and returning home with milk and an FBI agent’s being stashed in the backseat.
Drew pulled into his two-car garage and hit the remote clipped to his visor. Once the garage door came to a close, he said, “You can come up for air now. It’s all clear.”
Jared put a finger over his mouth, letting Drew know that it would be in his best interest if he didn’t talk aloud. Jared quietly opened the car door and climbed out of the vehicle, bringing with him a bag filled with tools to collect evidence. Since the crime technicians would not be allowed inside until this was all over, which could be days, he had been instructed to collect all the evidence he could on his own.
He would start with evidence that was considered fragile, anything that could be contaminated, like blood, hair, fingerprints, and fibers. First on the list: photograph any and all areas that looked as if they had been disturbed. He had a bright light and a magnifying glass, but if he got really lucky and the perpetrator washed his hands with, say, a bar of soap, a photograph could possibly do the trick. Otherwise, Jared would use his flashlight and black powder.
He would be looking closely at entries, exits, and all hard surfaces. If furniture had been moved or objects had been disturbed, that would be his starting point for gathering evidence.
Before he did any of that, though, he would make sure the place was empty and secure, and that nobody was hiding out.
Although agents had been planted on the street within minutes of being made aware of Kassie Scott’s disappearance, they had been instructed to stay well hidden.
With the bag strapped over his shoulder, Jared slipped on a pair of latex gloves, pulled out his Sig P226, and motioned for Drew to remain quiet and stay where he was until Jared was finished checking out the house.
Jared stepped into the kitchen. The only light in the house came from a couple of wall sconces in the next room. He flipped the switch on the wall to his right. At first glance, everything looked sterile and untouched. At second glance, he bent down and saw a small knife protruding from under the cabinet where often molding called toe kick was installed in newer homes. He returned his gaze to the garage, where he could see Drew frozen in place, nervously watching Jared’s every move.
