by L E Fraser
Sam had searched property records to locate someone who had lived near the Lutz family and found neighbours who had owned their house for ten years. If luck was on her side, they had known Incubus’s wife.
Between the five-hour round trip to the prison and the draining visit with the monster, Sam was having trouble focusing. Fatigue had dried her eyes and blurred her vision. There was a low humming inside her ears and hallucinations bloomed in panoramic splendour.
Joyce’s ivory coffin adorned with orchids. Leo’s blank expression as he caressed the glossy surface of his young wife’s casket. Her mother’s face contorted with grief as hurtful rhetoric spewed from her pale lips.
And Jerry had hid among the graveside mourners, savouring her family’s anguish. Now she knew he had been there, in every horrid memory that flickered across her mind, Incubus stood in the background laughing. Had he gone to his other victims’ funerals? Sam didn’t think so. Joyce was special. Incubus had not randomly chosen her sister.
Lights were on in the small house beside Jerry’s vandalized bungalow. She took a deep breath and rang the bell. A dog barked from inside the house and a woman opened the door. A bulldog puppy pranced around her feet, uttering little yips of excitement. He hadn’t grown into his skin and loose wrinkles circled his stubby legs. His thick chest, front legs, and big paws were white but his hindquarters were solid fawn. The break in the colour resembled the waistband of a pair of trousers.
A tall, youngish woman in a tie-dyed T-shirt and faded jeans shooed the puppy from the doorway. “Can I help you?” she asked.
Sam resisted the urge to drop to her knees and scoop up the puppy. Instead, she showed the owner her PI licence. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
The woman frowned and Sam adjusted her age from mid-thirties to mid-forties.
She examined the license and her expression shifted from alarm to curiosity. “I know who you are.” She handed back the wallet. “You caught Jerry Lutz.” Curiosity morphed to horror. “My God, he didn’t escape, did he?”
“No,” Sam said. “It’s personal. My sister was a victim.”
Sympathy shadowed the woman’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.” She held open the door. “During the arrest and investigation, we were in Europe. I don’t know what I can tell you, but come in.”
Sam stepped into an exposed entry. Golden hardwood ran throughout the main floor and brown stone with shimmering gold flecks surrounded a wood-burning fireplace with a solid oak mantel. At the back of the house, the kitchen cupboards were grey, the backsplash was stainless steel, and the countertops were speckled granite.
Sam removed her boots and followed the woman to a cozy sitting area. White sofas lightened the small space and the colours in an area carpet picked up the gold from the stone and the grey from the kitchen. Abstract art decorated every available wall space. She sat on one of the sofas. The puppy trotted over and stuck out his pink tongue, waiting for undivided attention. Sam was happy to oblige and picked him up, settling him on her lap.
“I’m Leah Fateux, and that little darling is Walter. Can I offer you coffee?”
Sam tugged on Walter’s floppy ears and rubbed the loose folds of skin across his back. “No, thank you.”
Leah sat. “How can I help you?”
“Did you know the Lutz family?”
She nodded.
“What was Natasha like?”
“Kind.” Leah gazed into space. “She used to bring me roses from her garden, but she rarely stayed for a visit. English was her second language but that’s not why she kept to herself.” Her lips pursed and her forehead creased. “Looking back, I think she was trying to protect us from her husband.”
“Protect you how?” Sam asked.
“If we’re going to talk about him I need a drink.” Leah stood and crossed to the fridge. She grabbed a bottle of wine and reached into a cupboard. “Will you join me?”
“I’m fine, but thank you.”
She poured her wine and returned to sit across from Sam. “A few weeks before she vanished, Natasha was in the yard cutting down a tree. It was April but unseasonably warm. My husband wanted to help her, but he worried it would enrage Jerry.” She shuddered. “Witnessing her toiling in the heat was agony. We decided to go inside.” Colour bathed her cheeks. “Cowardly, I know. Before we went in, Natasha collapsed. My husband leapt the chain-link fence. I ran to get Jerry. When we got to the backyard, Ken had revived Natasha.”
She sucked back a large gulp of wine. Her hand shook and the rim of the glass chattered against her teeth. Rather than peppering Leah with questions, Sam waited out her silence.
“Ken lost his cool. He yelled at Jerry about the despicable way he treated his wife. Natasha was cowering by Jerry’s side, mumbling that she was sorry and stupid. Whatever Jerry said to her in Albanian made her cry. A week later, she disappeared.”
“Did you ask about her?”
“Jerry told me a relative was ill.” Leah flipped a strand of brown hair out of her eye. “He gave me Natasha’s email address, so I didn’t think anything of it.”
“Did she grow lilies?” Sam asked.
“I don’t think so. She had spectacular roses.” Leah gestured behind her. “They still grow wild against the fence. We put up a privacy fence after the rabbit.”
“Jerry didn’t do anything about your husband reprimanding him?” The psychopath would not appreciate criticism.
“The rabbit.” Leah’s voice caught in her throat.
“What rabbit?”
“They kept rabbits in an outdoor hutch.” She licked her lips and swallowed. “The day after Ken told him off, we were all out in the yard, Ken and the kids and I, and Jerry came outside. He waved, opened the hutch, and removed a bunny.” The colour drained from Leah’s face. “My daughter asked if she could hold it. Jerry lifted the rabbit over the top of the fence. He smiled while she cooed and patted it. I can’t describe his expression but it scared me. I told Eva to give him back the rabbit.” Leah paused and ran the back of her hand against her mouth. “He cut its throat,” she said. “Blood spattered across my daughter’s face. She was screaming and Ken grabbed her and raced for the house. I froze. My son Dalton was fifteen at the time. He went nuts, calling Jerry a psycho. Jerry held my eyes with a smile and gutted the rabbit.” She swallowed hard. “The entrails gushed out. He caught a handful and held it out to my son.”
“Did Jerry say anything?”
“I don’t remember.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “All I remember is the terrible smell and the blood dripping between his fingers.”
“Did Natasha and Jerry have children?” Sam asked.
“Natasha had a daughter called Aleksia,” Leah said with an odd expression Sam couldn’t decipher.
“Was his stepdaughter there when Jerry killed the rabbit?” she asked.
Leah nodded. “I didn’t see her but my husband did. She was in the back doorway.”
“She was close to your son’s age. Did Dalton know her?” she asked.
Leah’s expression darkened and she finished her wine in a single swallow. She carried her empty glass to the fridge and said over her shoulder, “They went to the same school. Aleksia was a year or two ahead.”
“You didn’t like her,” Sam guessed.
“Well… no. But considering what was going on in that house, who can blame Aleksia for being a bit off?” Leah brought her wine to the living room and sat.
“Off how?”
“She took my son’s bike once. He’d left it on the driveway and she helped herself,” she said. “Another time, she came to the door to collect money for a school fundraiser.” Leah rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t legit, which we knew because our kids went to the same school. Stuff like that.”
“Did Aleksia have a good relationship with her stepfather?” Sam asked.
“I don’t recall ever seeing them together.” Her eyes widened and wine sloshed out of her glass. “Oh my God, she isn’t dead, is she? Did he kill her,
too?”
“No, she’s in Albania.” Sam changed tack. “Have you noticed anyone around the abandoned house?” she asked. If the Frozen Statue Killer’s intent were to pay homage to Incubus, holding her victims in his bungalow would be poetic.
“Vandals, occasionally,” Leah said. “Kids with spray cans, mostly. Our neighbourhood watch is vigilante. One of the men is ex-military.” She mumbled something Sam didn’t hear.
“Say again?”
“He’s the one who boarded up the windows.” She paused and lowered her eyes. “And he installed cameras. Once a month, a group goes inside to check the property.” She rushed to add, “I know it skirts the law but we had so much trouble after Jerry’s arrest.”
So it wasn’t possible for the Frozen Statue Killer to hide her victims in the abandoned property without someone catching her.
Sam moved Walter from her lap. She instantly missed the warm solidity of his small body against her legs. “You are too cute,” she said and snuggled her nose against Walter’s soft fur.
“He’s four months,” Leah said. “I love him to pieces.”
“I have a golden retriever.” She stood and went to the entry for her boots. “Her name is Brandy. I can’t imagine life without her.”
“Jerry is never getting out, right?” Leah asked.
“No. The judge declared him a dangerous offender.” Sam put on her coat and reached for the door.
“But I heard he’s appealing.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Sam assured her. “The Ontario Court of Appeal dismissed his request for a new trial. The Supreme Court will deny his leave to appear next month.”
“I hope so,” Leah said. “Nice meeting you.”
The night was dark and it was getting colder. Ice shimmered across the puddles along the curb and tiny snowflakes fluttered from the sky. Inside the car, Sam adjusted the heater and sat shivering, waiting for the Grand Am to warm up.
If Aleksia had demonstrated delinquent tendencies, the school had probably documented it. Understanding what went on behind Jerry’s closed doors might offer a clue as to why he had chosen a lily as his calling card. Behoo might be able to track down Aleksia’s missing high school records. Their hacker had deep web contacts and access to databases that he could breach with anonymity. She called him.
“I’m looking for intel on a girl named Aleksia Berisha,” she said when he answered. “Find anything from Central Etobicoke High School from—”
“No way,” Behoo interrupted.
His peeved tone exasperated her. “What the hell’s going on with you?” she retorted.
“With me?” He laughed. “I don’t know what’s going on with you but I’m done. I told you last time you ragged me out for no reason to get Hybrid to do your hacking.”
Sam couldn’t even remember the context of their disagreement because it had been so insignificant. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with Behoo’s hypersensitivity and had no idea who “Hybrid” was.
“Stop being such a diva,” she said.
“Does insulting people work out well for you?” he snapped.
She blew out her breath in aggravation. “Quit with the high and mighty attitude and get me Aleksia’s school records.”
“Fuck off.” He hung up on her.
Sam pounded her steering wheel in frustration. From the corner of her eye, she caught movement at Jerry’s bungalow. She peered through the darkness and glimpsed a figure sprinting around the garage. It was most likely another graffiti artist intending to tag Incubus’s property. Or the person was spying on her. She glanced around but there were no cars parked on the street.
She drove to the highway, checking her rear-view mirror every few minutes. No one was tailing her. By the time she pulled into the lot behind her warehouse, she was hyper and jittery. She scurried to the back entrance, her breath catching in her throat as she ran. Her visit with Incubus had unnerved her and she was imagining things. Laughing a bit at her paranoia, she climbed the stairs and rounded the corner to the third-floor landing, where she stopped short.
Lying on the centre of the floor was a fresh white lily with an icy green throat.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Reece
“IT WAS HERE.” Sam turned in a tight circle, jabbing her finger at the floor. “A white lily.”
Sam had barrelled into the loft, screaming at him to follow her. Startled, he’d run after her in his bare feet. She’d yanked open the door to the back staircase and pointed at the landing.
There was nothing there.
They hadn’t passed anyone in the hall, but Reece craned his neck down the staircase. No fleeing footfalls against the lower stairs. The building was quiet.
Her face was pale and the finger she aimed at the floor shook. “She left a lily.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know,” she yelled. “A woman’s been following me.”
“What?”
Shrewdness narrowed her eyes and she pursed her lips together. “She parked on a side street near Lutz’s house and took a different route here. That’s why I didn’t see her.”
“What were you doing at Incubus’s house?” he asked.
“She snuck into the building, put the lily on the landing, and hid.” Sam’s voice rose to a feverish pitch. “Don’t you see? She’s his accomplice. She took the lily so you’d think I was delusional.”
Reece’s bewilderment turned to concern. “I believe you,” he said in a soothing tone.
She dropped to her hands and knees and ran her fingers across the ceramic tiles. “There should be dust from the anther.”
“From the what?”
“The orange things that top the filaments,” she yelled.
Residents were popping their heads out their doors to see what the commotion was. Reece reached down and took Sam’s elbow. “Let’s go inside.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears. “You don’t believe me.”
“I do.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, alarmed by how thin she was.
In their loft, Reece led her to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. Her body twitched with involuntary spasms. A vein in her forehead pulsed and her eyes darted from side to side.
He knelt between her legs. “When did you sleep last?”
“Whoever is following me put Incubus’s calling card on the landing.” Her voice cracked and tears spilled down her sunken cheeks.
“When did you notice someone following you?” he asked.
“She was standing outside the loft the night I went to Lisa’s house. No… It was before that.” Sam jumped to her feet. “I took her picture.”
She thrust her laptop into his hands. “She was wearing a red parka and a pompom toque. I thought it was Eli’s sister but now I’m not sure. Why would she be at Incubus’s abandoned house?”
Reece scrolled through photos from their godson’s christening, Christmas at Lisa’s house, and pictures of Kira at a fire station. Those were the most recent.
Sam grew very still.
“Could it be on your phone?” Reece picked up her cell and opened the gallery. It was empty.
“I’m positive I took a picture.”
“Maybe you didn’t tap the screen in the right spot,” Reece said.
“Someone deleted it,” she insisted, glaring at him as if he might be the culprit.
He held out his hand. “You need sleep.”
“Stop acting like I’m delusional,” she yelled. “She did follow me and I did take her picture.”
“Hush now,” Reece said. “We’ll figure it out in the morning.”
Her jaw tightened into a rigid line of stubbornness. “If you’re tired, go to bed. I’m staying up.”
Arguing was pointless. Reece scooped Brandy into his arms. “Who wants a cuddle?” he murmured to the old dog, hoping to tempt Sam upstairs.
She didn’t move.
Reece settled their dog onto the king-sized bed and leaned down the stairs. “Can you bring up one of her pain pills
and a piece of cheese?”
Sam came upstairs and dropped her laptop on the bed. She fed Brandy a wedge of cheddar with the white pill hidden inside and patted the lethargic dog.
Reece stripped to his underwear and got under the covers, picking up his eReader from his bedside table.
Sam massaged Brandy’s hindquarters. “Her arthritis is acting up.”
Reece didn’t believe that was the only problem. “I’ll make a vet appointment tomorrow. I have early classes but I’m free all afternoon.”
“She’s okay, right?”
Her desperate need for reassurance wounded Reece but it would be cruel to lie to her and give her false hope.
“We’ll talk with the vet,” he said. “You want to get ready for bed?”
She opened her laptop. “I’m going to work on my thesis,” she muttered.
Go to sleep, he wanted to scream.
From the side of his eye, Reece read what Sam was typing. It was gibberish, riddled with spelling errors, run-on sentences, and missing punctuation. She worked away, oblivious to the nonsense she was creating. After an hour, Reece couldn’t take it any longer.
He got out of bed. “How about hot chocolate?”
“A sweet would be good.” She didn’t look up from her keyboard.
Reece went into the bathroom and opened a drawer in the vanity. He held a prescription bottle, struggling to rationalize the ethical ambiguity of drugging his exhausted fiancée without her knowledge. Her paranoia and conspiracy theories were symptoms of sleep deprivation. One little pill would solve the problem.
Reece removed a tablet from the bottle and went downstairs.
As he melted chocolate and steamed milk, he tried to ignore the immorality of his actions. He placed the pill on the countertop and used the back of a teaspoon to crush it. Reece poured the chocolate and frothed milk into a mug, stirred in the white powder, and added a dash of cinnamon.
