by Rick Mofina
Claire kissed his cheek.
“Good morning.” She went to the fridge for a glass of orange juice. “Are you nervous about the hero’s banquet tonight?”
“I’m no hero.”
“Ruben Montero’s community association thinks otherwise.”
“I don’t know about this, Claire-all this attention.”
“Come on. Be gracious. It’ll make Ruben happy, and we’ll have a nice time.” She smiled. “And thanks again for bringing my laptop to the break-in the other day. It was a big help.”
“How are things going with that?”
She allowed a few seconds to pass, as if she had opened a door to a room of unsettled things.
“We managed to rejig the schedule, and I got a call from police last night when you were out. They checked on my patient who’d been assaulted by her partner, to be sure everything was okay. They said she was fine.”
“You must be relieved.”
“I’m concerned, given the situation.” Claire got a muffin from the cupboard and sat at the table with him.
“How are police doing with the investigation?” he asked. “I thought they said the bad guys were going after gold fillings.”
“The detective had theories that the burglary was disguised to look like that. He thought that maybe a vengeful ex might’ve been going after files in my office, especially since my patients have suffered abuse and attacks, you know.”
Chewing on a piece of her muffin, she took a moment to shape her next question, aware that two new magazines about babies and pregnancies were on the far side of the table.
“Is there anything else you want to talk about?”
“I got another trip coming up, Chicago and Toronto.”
“Okay.” Claire broke off another piece of her muffin, swallowing her disappointment, her focus shifting through the glass patio doors to their backyard and two planter boxes by a mound of fresh earth next to one of her large flower beds.
“I see you’re still working on my boxes. They look great, by the way. Is that what you were up doing last night? You were up late.”
Bowen followed Claire’s gaze to the yard.
“Yes, I want them to be just right.”
“You’re such a perfectionist. What time did you come to bed?”
“I don’t remember. I have to take a new plane for the next trip, so I went out to Van Nuys to check it out.”
“You drove to work in the middle of the night to look at a plane?”
“I couldn’t sleep. You know how my job plays havoc with my body clock.”
“Yes, it just seems unusual.” Claire shrugged, then turned to the Star-News headline about the killer surfacing. She read a few paragraphs before tapping her finger to it. “Scary stuff.”
She stood, cleaned up and kissed him. “Gotta go. Remember, Ruben called you a great hero, so just be yourself tonight.”
Claire left, taking a parting glance at the newspaper then the backyard, thinking how the boxes looked like coffins next to a fresh grave. She held that grim observation briefly before shifting her attention to the day ahead.
35
San Marino, California
Claire drove to her office, contending with traffic and a million worries.
Focus on the positives and count your blessings, she told herself.
It had become her mantra.
Robert was a wonderful man, the man who’d rescued her from hell. He’s a good husband, a caring and loving man. He was going to be a fantastic dad. She smiled to herself.
He paid attention to the little things.
She’d only casually mentioned how planter boxes would be nice for the yard and he set out to make them for her. He rushed to her aid when she needed her laptop. You could count on him. He’d saved the lives of two strangers, a mother and her baby, for which he was going to be publicly honored tonight as a hero.
Robert was perfect.
Wasn’t he?
Claire came to a red light.
Wasn’t he?
She pounded her palms on her steering wheel and bit back her tears.
Face the truth.
She was haunted by doubt and suspicion.
Does he really want a baby?
He’s never asked me about the treatments, not really. He avoids the subject. He never wants to talk seriously about the future. He balked at the idea of selling the cabin for a college fund. And what about Cynthia?
The questions consumed Claire until a horn sounded.
The light had changed.
Claire resumed driving and grappling with her unease.
Maybe it’s all me? I’m overreacting again to everything: the treatment, Robert’s issues, Amber’s assault in the parking lot, the burglary.
I’m just going through a rough time.
Claire began counseling herself. She knew she was compartmentalizing, putting up a wall of psychological self-defense. She didn’t approach Robert directly because she wanted to avoid conflict with him, because deep down she was afraid she’d learn a truth she couldn’t bear. She was rationalizing to maintain a consistent belief system-that while her relationship might not be perfect at this time, the positives outweighed the negatives and things were going to be fine.
Claire adjusted her grip on the wheel.
Let’s leave it there for now.
At the office, matters had nearly returned to normal.
Claire got right to work at her desk, installing her flash drive to review her updated patient notes. Alice brought her fresh coffee, the day’s patient list and a smile.
“Everything’s back on track,” Alice said. “You’ve got April and Madison this morning, then only Dorothy this afternoon. I’ll make the appointment reminder calls for Vanessa and Amber. They’re scheduled for tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Alice.”
“Oh, and the insurance guy is coming back today to drop off some papers. I’ll handle that, if you’re busy.” Alice caught herself and concentrated on Claire. “Are you okay, dear?”
“Oh, sure, thanks. Just a bit tired,” she lied.
“You’ve been through a lot lately. Want me to look ahead? Tomorrow looks light. I can shift things around so you can take a day.”
“No, no,” Claire said, appreciating the offer. “I’ve got Amber coming. I won’t put any burden on my patients. Thanks, Alice. It was thoughtful.”
Claire got on with her day.
Her first patient, April, the former teacher, had been making improvements. She’d left her abusive husband and taken their three children to live with a girlfriend in Thousand Oaks. It had not been easy, there was heartache at every turn, but April was fortifying her self-confidence and forging a new life for herself and her children.
It pleased Claire that her next patient, Madison, had made similar progress. The thirty-one-year-old hairstylist had taken steps to leave her controlling and abusive husband.
In the afternoon, Claire’s session was with Dorothy, a fifty-three-year-old bank teller, who had been widowed for a year. Her husband had abused her throughout their marriage. Dorothy lived alone in a small house in East Pasadena where she was struggling with weak self-esteem and guilt. Her issues arose from her estrangement from her two adult daughters.
“They always blamed me for not leaving Gerry. They’ve even threatened to sue me in court for the abuse and anguish they’d suffered.”
In today’s session Dorothy presented a new issue.
“These last few nights I’ve been having trouble sleeping. Late at night I sense there’s someone in my house-a man hiding in my house.”
Claire took notes, concern slowing rising.
“Is there evidence of someone in your house? Did you call the police?”
“No, because I found nothing and thought I must be dreaming or imagining things and had better discuss this with you.”
“Are you taking any new medication I should know about?”
“No.”
“Are you facing new stresses at
work, or new issues that cause you to worry?”
“I may be forced to retire early. The bank is downsizing.”
Claire noted that and asked more questions, assessing Dorothy’s responses until their time was up.
“Dorothy, this sensation of a presence in the house could be due to a number of factors-worry about your job, or the fact that Gerry was such a troubling part of your life for so long, or your strained relationship with your daughters. All of these fears and worries could combine to manifest themselves as a presence in your house at night.”
Dorothy took some comfort in Claire’s analysis.
“However,” Claire said, “as you know, our building was recently burglarized. So, I want to take precautions. With your permission, I’ll have police check your house and note your address for patrols.”
“Yes, I’d like that.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
After Dorothy left, Claire returned to her desk, took out Officer Deena Freeman’s card, called and advised her of Dorothy’s situation.
“We’ll look into it,” Freeman said after confirming Dorothy’s work and home addresses.
Satisfied she’d taken the right steps, Claire spent the rest of the afternoon reviewing patient notes. As she finished and prepared to leave for the day, her cell phone rang.
It was Julie.
“Hey, Claire, can you talk?”
“Yeah, what’s going on?”
“Are you knocked up yet?”
“I’ve been wondering that myself.”
“What? What’re you saying?”
“No. I’m not pregnant yet. I’m just not sure how it’ll go.” Claire laughed at Julie’s boldness. “I’m still going through the treatment phase.”
“So it’s going to take a while.”
“It might. It could happen for us at any time. I’m not sure. The drugs kinda mess up my cycle.”
“I see. Okay,” Julie said, “I’ll switch subjects. What did you find out?”
“What do you mean?”
“Remember? I’d asked you to get me more information about where Robert and Cynthia were living at the time of the divorce, or where they got married?”
“Oh, that.”
“Yes, that. You wanted me to keep digging, remember?”
“Yes,” Claire said.
“So, did you ask him? Or find anything more to help me?”
“No, we- I got sidetracked. There was a burglary at our building and-”
“What?”
“I should’ve told you. The police think the robbers were going after the gold the dentist uses for fillings, but there was damage showing someone tried to get into my files.”
“That’s a bit alarming, especially after you had that run-in with one of your patient’s exes.”
“Yeah, but the police have been very good about it. I wish I had something more to give you, but we’re going to a banquet tonight.”
“What banquet?”
“The man whose wife and baby Robert rescued-his community group is having a banquet and they want to honor Robert.”
“That’s nice, Claire, so why not ask him then?”
“Ask him what?”
“Where he was married and divorced. Work it into the conversation. Make it a joke or something. You’ll figure it out.”
“I suppose.”
“Then with the right info, I can track Cynthia down and investigate whether or not he’s had any contact with her-get the truth for you.”
“I’d like that.”
“Good, then that is your mission.”
Driving home later Claire replayed her day, smiling at Julie. She was the best kind of friend because she cut through the B.S. Claire would follow Julie’s suggestion and extract some information from Robert about his first marriage.
Claire arrived home earlier than expected and used the extra time to check on her gardens in the front and back yards. Gardening was one of her joys and rather than hire professionals, she preferred to do it herself.
She hadn’t had much time lately.
Claire kicked off her shoes and started toward the front of the house. Her rosebushes were doing well, as were her azaleas and rhododendrons. She was pleased as she went around the side of the house to the back.
This was their sanctuary, enclosed by towering hedges, shaded by mature sycamore and palms. The lawn was deep green and lush under her bare feet. Monarchs flitted to the bright red, white and pink blooms of her butterfly bushes. Her foxgloves were dazzling with a cascade of purple flowers. She loved how her Japanese plum tree was thriving, just like her pomegranates.
At the far corner of the yard she saw one of the planter boxes Robert had made and went to inspect it. The box glistened with new wood stain. It was filled neatly to the surface with dark rich soil and waited next to a mound of fresh earth.
Claire knelt down on the grass, ran her fingers along the smooth wood, wondering what she might plant inside. She was considering more roses when her heart skipped a beat.
The box vibrated subtly under her hand, with faint muffled scratching noises.
Something alive is in that box!
Claire shot back and bumped into someone.
“What is it, Claire?”
“Robert! Oh, my God! You scared me! There’s something inside-something scratching to get out!”
He knelt down to inspect the far end.
Claire peeked over his shoulder and saw the bushy tail of a squirrel burrowing. Robert seized a small branch, gave it a gentle nudge and it scampered off.
“You should get ready for the banquet,” he said, and stood. “You always need more time than me and we’ll have to leave early. The traffic to Maywood could be tricky.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Claire collected her shoes and walked toward the house with a glance back at Robert, who’d gotten down on his knees again to work near that box.
36
Monterey Park, California
Mark Harding’s story had ignited a firestorm.
Five miles east of downtown L.A., network satellite trucks and news cars from the city’s media outlets had crammed into the parking lot of the L.A. County Sheriff’s headquarters. The brass had called a press briefing, which was set to begin within five minutes.
This is our shot to speak directly to the killer, Tanner thought, waiting with other officials against one wall of the media conference room.
Earlier, throughout the morning, reporters had reacted to the ANPA’s exclusive bombshell by relentlessly calling the department to demand interviews. Tanner and the task force had taken some of those calls that had distracted them from other work on the case. He’d come from Commerce to the Sherman Block building in Monterey Park to participate in the news conference.
Tanner surveyed the jungle of TV cameras and tripods as operators made final adjustments, estimating seventy newspeople in the room. Reporters gossiped, gabbed on cell phones, texted or made notes. Some of the TV journalists primped.
Next to the waiting podium, Tanner saw the board bearing enlarged color photos of the five murdered women and a map of Greater Los Angeles marked with where their bodies had been found. Tanner spotted Harding at the far edge of a row of chairs. They nodded to each other as Captain Martin Bronson of the sheriff’s homicide bureau, went to the podium. He began with background on the five cold case homicides before summarizing the news-that the killer had written to Harding.
“We believe the person responsible for the deaths of the five victims is the same person who’s contacted the AllNews Press Agency,” Bronson said. “We’re asking for anyone who may have any information relating to any aspect of this case to use our toll-free line to contact us or your local law enforcement agency. Now,” Bronson said, “we’ll take only a few questions.”
The first hand to rise belonged to a reporter with KTKT News.
“Do you have any suspects?”
“We can’t discuss that at this time,” Bronson said.
&
nbsp; “Nick Vellore, the Daily News. Captain, why did it take so many years to find evidence linking the Dark Wind Killer to these five murders?”
“That’s explained in the background material we’ve provided you. Next.”
“Jill Savagge, Associated Press. Will you release the killer’s letter, or its contents?”
“I’m afraid we’re holding that back to protect the case.”
“You gave it to the ANPA,” Savagge shot back.
“No, the killer did that.”
“Mitch Fredrick, L.A. Times. Did you recover any DNA?”
“We’re not going to discuss that at this time.”
“Kate Hernandez, KMLA Action News. Captain, can you give us any indication as to why or how the killer chose these five women?”
“That’s under investigation.”
“Kyle Porter, Ninety-Nine News Time. Sir, how many tips have you received since the ANPA story about the letter ran across the country?”
“At this point, we’ve received two hundred seventy-four tips. The FBI is helping with those received outside of California. Our task force is drawing on resources throughout the city, county and state to process them.”
“Rico Estrella, MetroBeat. In his letter the killer threatens to kill again. Are you not concerned that by issuing this information you are creating panic and giving him the attention he wants?”
“Let me assure you we’ve grappled with that and came to the conclusion that in order for us to keep the community safe, we need to keep it informed,” Bronson said. “We advise people to exercise caution and common sense.”
“Can you give examples of steps they should take?” Estrella asked.
“Ensure your home or apartment is properly locked and secure. Don’t walk alone at night where you’d be vulnerable. Be wary of strangers.”
“Should women be buying guns for protection? Maggie Fox, KSEN.”
“We’re not advocating that. But people have a right to take legal steps to protect themselves. Okay, one last question.”
“Dan Jennings, KLKL. It’s likely the killer will be watching this news conference. Captain, if you could talk to him, what would you say?”
Bronson thought for a moment before turning to Tanner.
