“I’m at the hospital. Katie’s having a miscarriage.”
“Oh damn. Is she okay?” He didn’t know the right thing to say. Although, considering her young age, it was probably for the best that she didn’t have a baby.
“I think so. She wanted me to wait out in the lobby, so I’ll have to check with someone in a while.”
Damn! He needed the whole task force on deck tonight, and they were all bailing on him. “Give her my best.”
“I got your message, and I’m sorry about the timing. I called Katie’s aunt Jan, and she’s coming out here. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
“You sure? Your daughter needs you.” He really needed to shut up and stop being so damn nice. “Do you have your laptop with you?”
“No. Sorry. Katie was bleeding, and I didn’t even think about it.”
But he wouldn’t be alone. Schak let out a chuckle, his first in days. “Not to worry, I’ve got Sophie on the case.”
“Oh brother. She needs her own monitor.” Shack heard voices in the background, then Jackson said, “I have to go.”
The connection broke, and Schak put away his phone. For any other investigation, he would have called for patrol backup. But if a Eugene officer was their perp, alerting a night-shift patrol cop who worked the university area could be a huge mistake. He could do this by himself. He would borrow a laptop from the tech unit and monitor the Kelsey profile while he sat in his car, staking out the party. No, not without internet, he wouldn’t. Their city-issued sedans weren’t equipped with wifi access like the patrol cars. It had never been much of a problem until now. But still, he would be in the vicinity, watching the party house. If a man in uniform showed up, he would call the desk officer and try to determine if the guy was with EPD. Schak would wait, watch, and tail the perp if he left with a young girl.
All of which was unlikely. This was a long shot, he reminded himself. Kelsey was probably a high school girl, and the predator was probably someone he hadn’t pinpointed yet. The Washington state rapist mentioned by Agent Ward was still on the table. Schak stepped back into the judge’s office.
Cranston stared at the fireplace, where phony gas flames burned in a bluish light. The judge grabbed a pen. “I’ll sign the Facebook subpoena and the one giving you access to Kelsey Walker’s account—because she won’t know and won’t be harmed in any way if you’re wrong. But I can’t let you search Gene Burns’ apartment. You have no physical evidence connecting him to the assaults or blackmail. As an ex-convict, he’s already vulnerable to the overreach of law enforcement.”
An ex-con, vulnerable? Cranston had gone soft. “I’m not looking to bust him for anything else. I don’t care if he has drugs or weapons, and I’ll ignore them if he does. I just want to know if he’s impersonating an officer to rape young girls.” Who might later kill themselves, he thought.
“Find a witness who can put him in the vicinity, at least. Sorry.” The judge stood and handed him the paperwork. “Good luck. I mean that.”
Schak forced himself to say thanks and hurried out. He would stop and fax the subpoena to the legal department at Facebook, then grab a laptop from the tech unit and head for the university area. His luck could change, and he still might catch the perp as he zeroed in on his next victim.
CHAPTER 34
Tuesday, November 25, 7:15 p.m.
Sophie pulled on faded jeans and a tight sweater in forest green, her best color. She reapplied makeup, but there wasn’t much she could do with her hair to make herself look younger. Maybe a little glitter? It didn’t matter. The sexual predator wasn’t likely to target her. She didn’t look sixteen, and she didn’t plan to get drunk enough to seem vulnerable. Her role would be to watch the young girls who did get shit-faced and let Detective Schakowski know if they left the party with someone who—
She plopped on the bed, realizing she didn’t have enough information to be effective. Did Schak have a description of the predator? If so, why hadn’t he told her and let her print it? Because he thought the guy was a cop? Women still needed to be warned. Where was her phone?
She found it by her laptop and called the detective. He answered on the second ring, sounding tense. “What’s up?”
“Do you have any idea what this guy looks like? I can’t be effective if I don’t know.” She stepped out the door to check the weather. Cold as hell but not snowing. Thank god. She especially hated driving in the stuff at night.
“One description puts him with medium brown hair, late thirties, and good looking.”
The age struck her as odd. “He should be easy to spot at the party, if he shows up. This social group seems pretty young.” Sophie scrambled to grab her notepad.
Schak was silent.
“What? I need to know everything I can.”
“This is off the record, and I’m only telling you for your own safety. But the description matches a police officer who broke up two of this crowd’s parties.”
He did think it was a cop. Juicy! And scary. “You think the predator is one of your peers?”
“Or maybe he’s just wearing one of our uniforms. Or maybe it’s a coincidence. We really don’t know.”
“Two parties, two victims, both had a cop show up. Same description?” She scoffed. “That doesn’t sound like a coincidence.”
“You have to keep this to yourself.”
He was protecting the department. “If we”—she quickly corrected her mistake—“if you don’t get the guy tonight, we have to go public with the information. Young girls trust cops, and not knowing that one is dangerous puts them at risk.”
“He’s probably not a real officer.” Schak sounded defensive.
“And my article can say that, but if the predator is wearing a uniform and pretending to be a cop, people need to know.” Sophie recalled the victim who’d met with her and Schak. “What about Eden, the college student? She and her friends were stopped by a police officer the night she was assaulted.”
“She doesn’t fit the profile,” he argued. “And EPD has been cracking down on campus parties and underage drinking, so the pattern isn’t as clear as it seems.”
“You’ll be nearby the party tonight, correct?”
“Of course. Is there any update on the Kelsey Walker profile?”
“Nothing recent. Earlier, he or she was inviting people to the party but didn’t seem to focus on anyone in particular.” Sophie had hoped to see who he/she would target.
“Stay in touch with me,” Schak ordered, as if she were one of his minions. “I want to hear from you every fifteen minutes.”
“Yes, sir.” Another shiver of excitement rippled through her chest, mixed with a little fear. She tried to laugh it off. “If a high school girl named Kelsey walks up to me at the party, I’m going to feel silly.”
“Me too. But we think the perp is going to try again soon, so even if Kelsey isn’t his profile, he could still strike tonight.”
Suddenly, the whole scenario seemed more real. A knot formed in her stomach. The creep could be anywhere in the city, targeting a teenager they’d never heard of. “I’ll check the online crowd and see what’s new, then head down to campus.”
“Thanks, Sophie.”
She sat down with her laptop and clicked back to Kelsey’s page. The profile was engaged in dialogue with a young woman named Skylar Norton. Reading back through previous posts, Sophie realized they’d started out chatting about the party, then segued into favorite TV shows. She tried to see Skylar’s personal information, but the page was private and didn’t open. After a few more posts, Kelsey suggested to Skylar that they switch to chat, and the public conversation stopped. Oh damn. She would have given anything to know what Kelsey was saying to the young woman. Sophie scrolled back through Kelsey’s posts but didn’t see anything of interest. She texted Schak: Kelsey chatting privately with Skylar Norton. Young, pretty, dark
hair. No other information.
Time to go. She pulled on her coat and grabbed a red wool cap and gloves. At the last second, she grabbed a blanket in case it snowed while she was out and her car went off the road and she had to keep warm. The thought of walking home made her change into boots. Not exactly pretty party shoes, but she hated being cold.
Sophie’s phone rang and she snatched it out of her pocket. Jasmine Parker. Again. Did Jaz miss her? Sophie took the call on her earpiece and went out to start her car. “Hey, Jasmine. Good to hear from you.”
“The snow made me think about you, and I got worried. Are you okay?”
Her ex-girlfriend did miss her. Did they still have a chance? Sophie went back inside to wait for her car to warm up. “Honestly? I’m stressed. The managing editor called me in yesterday and said I wasn’t good enough to work the crime beat. He assigned me to cover Springfield. I’ll either quit or get fired very soon.”
“That’s so sleazy. Is he giving your job to Zee Schrock? I saw her byline this morning on an article about Officer Thompson’s death.”
Sophie pulled off her coat and sat back down. “She’s an intern. She’ll cost them half as much and no medical benefits.” Sophie decided to give Jasmine—and their relationship—one last chance. “I’m looking for journalism work in other cities. Now that I don’t have a reason to stay here.”
A pause. “You could become a private detective and stay because it’s a great place to live.” Jasmine laughed. “Wouldn’t Jackson be totally annoyed if you gave him competition?”
The private detective idea intrigued her, but Sophie didn’t want to be distracted. “Or you could tell me to stay because we belong together.”
A deathly pause. “I love you, but nothing has changed.” Jasmine’s voice shifted back into business mode. “The reason I called was to tell you about the second death. I noticed the intern’s article didn’t mention it.”
Sophie’s pulse quickened. Jackson had mentioned it, but he hadn’t given her any details. “What do you know?”
“A homeless man supposedly shot himself with Officer Thompson’s gun. He also had his cell phone. So the working theory is that Pete Scully killed Thompson, stole his possessions, then killed himself out of guilt.”
Suicide? Weird. Sophie jotted down the name. “But you don’t think that’s what happened?”
“I’m not a detective, and I don’t have the background information. You should call Jackson.”
“I will. Thanks.” Sophie checked the time and reached for her coat. “I’ve got to get going. I’m working on another story.”
Jasmine laughed again. “You mean there’s something happening in Springfield on a Tuesday night?”
“Ha!” Sophie was too tense to joke. “This is the sexual assault investigation. I’m still going to follow the story—even if the paper won’t print it.”
“This is why I love you. Be careful.” Jasmine hung up before she could respond.
Hearing that made her heart sing. But only for a second. If they couldn’t be together, it would be easier if Jasmine didn’t love her. Now was not the time to think about her love life. Or the murder/suicide story she wasn’t supposed to write. She had a sexual predator to help catch.
CHAPTER 35
Jackson paced the ER lobby, his mind jumping back and forth between loyalties. Katie was having a crisis. Her body was rejecting the baby, and she was bleeding badly. He kept seeing the red-stained towel on the seat of the car. Intellectually, he knew she would be okay. No one died from miscarriages, did they? But his heart ached for her. Another lost life, so soon after her mother died. How much could she take? Even though her aunt was coming to provide more support, he knew he should stay.
Yet Schak needed him on the job. Jackson had never failed his partner in thirteen years of working Violent Crimes together. The sexual predator’s recent pattern indicated he might strike again soon, and the party tonight was an ideal trolling ground, with all the usual players in attendance. If something went down, he needed to be there. Why hadn’t he brought his laptop? Stupid! If he had it, he could log into Ashley’s Facebook account and monitor the group’s activities, especially the Kelsey profile. Assuming the hospital had free wifi.
He stopped by the window and stared into the dark parking lot. At least it wasn’t snowing. He called Quince but got no answer. Where the hell was he? Technically, he wasn’t obligated to work after hours. None of them were. But that was the expectation of law enforcement. No one was ever really off duty. Investigative work required them to connect with witnesses and suspects whenever and wherever they could. He’d once questioned a man at his middle-of-the-night bakery job, because that was the only time he could pin him down. So Quince’s behavior was unusual.
Jackson didn’t want to believe his task force member was the predator. But what did he really know about him? They never saw each other outside of work, and Quince hadn’t shared anything personal since he’d transferred from the Vice Unit. The thought gave him pause. Working sex crimes could mess with a man’s head. Overexposure to unhealthy sexual activity could generate an unwanted sexual response. Had Quince become addicted to sex videos? Or some other predatory behavior?
A woman in blue scrubs approached him. “Mr. Jackson?”
He spun toward her, ready for good news. “Yes. How’s Katie?”
“She’s fine. The bleeding has stopped, and she’s sedated.”
He tried not to think about the baby she’d lost, but images kept popping into his head. What did they do with its body? Should they have a service? “I’d like to see her, if only for a moment.”
“I’ll take you back.”
They walked through a maze of short hallways, passing several exam rooms, most of which were empty. Katie slept in a narrow mobile bed, covered by a white blanket. Without makeup or her usual expression of disdain, she looked about twelve. Relief, love, and guilt all washed over him. Relief that she was physically fine, followed by another, more subtle sense that this was for the best—that she wasn’t meant to be a mother so young. And guilt for being glad she wasn’t pregnant anymore. Katie opened her eyes for a brief moment, saw him standing there, then drifted off again.
Jackson stepped back out of the room. “I should let her rest.” He turned to the woman in scrubs. “How long will she sleep?”
“Probably a few hours. We gave her a valium to calm her down.”
His ex-wife’s sister was in the lobby when he came back. “Jan. Thanks for coming.” He hugged her, grateful for her presence in their life. “Katie’s in room nineteen. They sedated her, so she may sleep for a few hours. You don’t have to be here.” It was the right thing to say, but he hoped she would disagree.
“I’ll stay. You can take a break or go run an errand.” Jan was blonde, soft, and sweet. Unlike her sister, who’d been dark, sharp, and sexy.
“I really should check in with my task force. We’ve got a sting going down right now.”
“Then go. I’ll be here when Katie wakes up and call you.”
“Thank you.”
He walked out the door, then started running. In the car, he called Kera, but she didn’t answer. She was probably putting the boys to bed. He left her a message, updating her on Katie’s health, while he drove out of the massive parking lot. His next call was to Schak. “What’s happening?”
“I’m parked at Seventeenth and Pearl, watching a house that’s about three blocks from the one we visited this afternoon. The young people just keep coming. They all look fourteen to me, but that’s because I’m old and crotchety.”
“Who’s watching the Kelsey profile?”
“No one. Quince isn’t returning calls. I brought a laptop from work in the hope I’d pick up a wifi connection, but no luck.”
“I just left the hospital, and I’m heading to the department.” Jackson crossed the empty intersection and drove on
to the expressway. “I’ll monitor the online activity and keep you posted. If anyone in uniform shows up, call me and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Do me a favor and check out a girl named Skylar Norton. The Kelsey profile started interacting with her, then took the conversation private.”
A pulse of panic. “That’s what happened right before Grace Marston was assaulted.”
“I know. And Skylar fits his type.”
“Text me the name. I’m still driving.” He took the Delta exit, only a few minutes from the department now. “Where is Evans?”
“She got called out by SWAT, an armed standoff.”
Those situations often lasted hours. Schak had been on his own. “What about Sophie?”
“She’s in the party house, texting me occasionally. She gave me the Skylar tip.”
Jackson cringed at the idea of having a civilian involved in their sting. But if it had to be anyone, he would have picked Sophie. The reporter had proved to be quick minded with nerves of steel. “Did you see the judge about accessing Kelsey’s account?”
“I sent signed docs to Facebook and Dragoo, but I can’t get ahold of the tech guy.”
“I’ll find out what I can and get back to you.”
Ten minutes later, he was at his desk, alone in the big building except for a few patrol personnel downstairs. He logged into Ashley Devonshire’s Facebook page, uncomfortable with using a dead girl’s social media account. No one had posted anything using her profile, and the tech guy had locked her account so it looked silent to her friends, but still, it was creepy. He keyed Kelsey Walker’s name into the search bar, and the page loaded. The profile’s last public post had been an hour earlier, the final exchange in the conversation with Skylar Norton. He clicked Skylar’s name to see the bigger photo on her home page. Yep, she fit the predator’s physical type. But he couldn’t access her personal information.
She’d been smart about not sharing those details of her life with everyone online, but if she was being targeted, it worked against her now. But was she? They didn’t know who else Kelsey was chatting with privately. Skylar may have been unwilling to engage, and the perp could have moved on to someone else. They needed access to the account. And a lot more time. Had Sophie pushed to set up the party for tonight or had Kelsey? If Kelsey was their perp, and he had been the one to suggest an immediate party, then they were right about him being eager to find and extort his next victim. Jackson scrolled back through Kelsey’s postings and saw an exchange with a woman named Sophie Lynn, who looked like a younger version of the reporter. Kelsey had suggested that evening for the party.
Wrongful Death (A Detective Jackson Mystery) Page 23
