by Lisa Regan
“What color were those lacy panties you got in the mail?” Jade goaded.
“Piss off,” Connor muttered.
Jade feigned offense, placing a hand on her chest and batting her eyes. “Now really, Detective Parks. Is that any way to talk to a lady?”
“Piss off, please.”
“Okay, you two,” Boggs cut in. “Just have something ready. You can release everything but the information about the bite marks.”
“Any news on that?” Connor asked.
Boggs shook his head. “We sent Jim Holloway’s impression to the coroner’s office, but they’re saying it’s inconclusive.”
“What?” Jade said. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means the coroner doesn’t think Holloway is our guy, but he won’t stake his career on it. We have to wait for the forensic dentist.”
While Jade gave the press conference, Connor went back to work on Leah Holloway’s phone records. He lifted the phone from its bed of rice and tried to power it up, but it was no use. He tried calling Globocell again. He was on the phone for an hour, being transferred from one clueless representative to the next before he found one who could speak intelligently without their Globocell script. Now that the Holloway case had been linked to the Soccer Mom Strangler case, he could at least use that connection to lend more urgency to his request. He explained to the woman that a serial killer was on the loose in the Sacramento area and was believed to be responsible for the deaths of four mothers.
“The press is calling him the Soccer Mom Strangler. We have reason to believe that Leah Holloway had some connection to him. It is extremely important that we get Mrs. Holloway’s phone records as soon as possible. We believe they might be helpful in moving the Soccer Mom Strangler case forward. I’ve already faxed the warrant multiple times. I’m not asking for any favors. I’m just asking you to speed up the process you already have in place.”
The woman on the other end, whom Connor couldn’t help but imagine as a perky blonde, said, “Sure. What’s the phone number associated with Mrs. Holloway’s account?”
For a moment, Connor was so stunned he couldn’t speak.
The woman said, “Sir?”
Papers flew across his desk, fluttering to the floor as he searched frantically for Leah Holloway’s cell phone number. He found it and rattled it off. The woman put him on hold for twenty minutes.
Finally, she came back on the line. “Detective? I think I can get you the last twenty-four hours of calls within the next two to three hours. What’s your fax number?”
Connor gave it to her. He still didn’t understand what could possibly take them so long to print out a list of phone numbers and fax it, but that didn’t stop him from leaping to his feet and pumping a fist high in the air. He drew some looks from the other detectives in the room, but he didn’t care.
“Thank you,” he told the woman. Moments later, Jade returned, looking sweaty and exhausted. She pulled off her tailored black suit jacket, tossed it across her desk, and lifted her arms in a chicken dance motion. Connor could see the large circular sweat stains darkening her armpits.
“I hate the press,” she said. “Did I mention that before?”
“You might have,” Connor said.
She plopped into her chair and wiped her brow with the back of her forearm. “So many fucking questions.”
Connor grinned. “The press? Asking questions? I don’t believe that for a second.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you so happy? Did your girlfriend come by while I was downstairs?”
He told her about the phone records, which garnered him two high fives. “So what now?” she asked.
“They’re cutting Holloway loose,” Connor said. “They can’t hold him, and the press is going to be all over him. Stryke wants us on Holloway until the morning.”
Jade frowned. “On Holloway? What—like a stakeout?”
Connor nodded.
“Can’t patrol do it?”
“Patrol is already over there. We can relieve them in two hours.”
“You volunteered us for this, didn’t you?”
Connor said nothing, trying not to look sheepish.
“You’re a bastard,” Jade told him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Look at this fucking circus,” Jade said. She uncapped her coffee, and the smell wafted over to Connor, who sat in the passenger’s seat of the department-issue Chevrolet Malibu they’d taken out so they could keep tabs on Jim Holloway for the next four hours. They’d parked four houses away, in front of the empty Rohrbach home. Evidently, Mr. Rohrbach and his children were not coming home from their cruise that evening.
“If you drink that, you’re going to have to pee,” Connor said.
Jade sighed and put the cap back on. She gestured to the myriad of news vans parked outside of the Holloway home. Some had even edged onto the driveway. “You think these vans have shitters? Wait a minute, don’t you live a few blocks from here?”
“Yeah.”
She took the cap off her coffee cup and took a long sip. “I can just go at your place.”
The press had laid siege to Jim Holloway’s home, even before Jade had finished giving her press conference. Most of them had broadcast live for the eleven o’clock news right from the Holloways’ front lawn. Holloway’s mother had come out to yell at them until she became overwhelmed by the lights of the cameras and the shouted questions and fled back inside.
It was only for one night. By the next evening, they’d know whether or not the impression matched. If it did, Holloway would be taken into custody immediately.
Connor pulled out his cell phone and dialed the division. He asked for O’Handley. “Matt,” Connor said when the young detective came on the line. “You get that fax yet?”
A sigh. “No, nothing. I’ve been babysitting this fax machine for two hours, Parks, all while trying to find Glory Rohrbach’s new address. She’s not in any database. I got nothing.”
“In the morning, we can canvass and see if anyone remembers the name of the landscaping company her lover works for. Keep up the good work, and call me when you get that fax.”
O’Handley hung up without another word.
“You put O’Handley on the Globocell fax?” Jade said.
Connor nodded.
“You work that kid like a fraternity pledge.”
“Please. He’s earning his stripes like everyone else.”
“You could give him something more important to do,” Jade said.
“He’s trying to find Glory Rohrbach and her landscaper lover,” Connor said. “That’s important, and so is this fax. I don’t want it getting lost.”
“’Cause we lose so many faxes.”
“You got a thing for O’Handley or what?” Connor teased.
Jade’s smile was wicked. “He could use my fax machine anytime, I won’t lie.”
Connor howled with laughter. “Oh, is that the ‘more important’ thing he could be doing?”
Jade shrugged and looked away. “I don’t dole out the assignments, I just take them.”
Connor’s sides ached with laughter. He slid down in his seat and stared straight ahead, watching the news vans come and go from the front of the Holloway home. As the night wore on, many of the reporters departed. By midnight, there were only two vans left.
Jade snored softly in the driver’s seat while Connor texted back and forth with Claire. She couldn’t sleep. Not without him, she said. Again, there was the giddy teenage girl who suddenly lived inside Connor. His mind kept drifting back to the night before, holding Claire again. He could feel her skin beneath his palms, smell her faint lavender scent, feel her brown curls tickling his face.
Damn this job, he texted her.
Your job is important, she responded. I’ll be here when you’re finished. Then, what had become their own little catchphrase: We have time.
Connor grinned. He was trying to think of something to write back when his phone
rang, the noise startling Jade awake.
“It’s Matt,” Connor said, pressing the “Answer” button.
“I’ve got your fax,” Matt told him.
Connor flashed Jade a thumbs-up. “Put him on speaker,” she said.
Connor held the phone out and looked at the glowing screen. “I don’t know how.”
Jade reached over and hit a button. Then, she said, “Hi, Matt.”
Matt’s voice was slightly grainy. “Detective Webb.”
Connor noted Jade’s frown at Matt’s formal greeting. He rolled his eyes.
“There are two numbers that match up with what we’ve got on video. The last call Leah Holloway received while she was at the gas station lasted eleven minutes and fifty-eight seconds. It was a cellular phone, but a burner. Could be anyone, anywhere.”
“You try calling it?” Connor asked.
“From the restricted line, yeah. It just rings. No answer, no voice mail. The second number—the call she took earlier, at nine fifty-two—”
“At the soccer field.”
“Yeah,” Matt said. “It’s an 855 number. Toll-free, private. Took some digging but I found out it belongs to an outfit called Genechek.”
“Genechek?” Jade said. She and Connor exchanged a raised-brow look.
“Yeah,” Matt said. “One of those places that do DNA tests through the mail.”
“Like paternity tests?” Jade asked.
“Yeah, exactly.”
“Did you—” Connor began.
Matt cut him off. “I called. They don’t open till eight thirty in the morning. They’re based in Portland, Oregon, so we don’t get the benefit of the time difference.”
Connor ran a hand downward over his face, smoothing his beard. “How long was the call?”
“About a minute.”
“Long enough to say he’s not the father,” Jade remarked.
“So Genechek calls her at the soccer field. She gets to the gas station, and whoever is on the other end of the burner calls her, and she starts drinking the vodka,” Connor said.
“Matt,” Jade said. “I’m sending Parks back to the division to write the warrants.”
“Sounds good.”
They ended the call. They sat in silence for a moment, watching the darkened Holloway house in the distance. Connor said, “My money’s on the five-month-old.”
“You mean for the DNA test?” Jade asked. “The math works out from what we got from her OB-GYN records.”
“She has unprotected sex with someone outside of her marriage, asks for a bunch of STD tests, finds out she’s pregnant instead. Stays with her husband, has the baby, and then starts having doubts about the baby’s true paternity. Maybe she finds out the baby’s not his, and it drives her over the edge? But why now? The kid is five months old. What happened to suddenly make her want to test paternity?”
“I have no idea,” Jade replied, “but even if that’s what drove her over the edge, why kill all of her kids? Why kill her best friend’s kids?”
Connor sighed. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Her best friend is a bitch, no doubt, but that doesn’t warrant killing her kids. Holloway didn’t start drinking until she got the second call at the gas station,” Jade pointed out. “Before that, she told the kids she just needed time to think. I don’t think she started thinking about ending it all until the second phone call. Are the two calls even related?”
“They have to be,” Connor said. “I’ll see what I can find out about the burner. Maybe we can triangulate it and find out the last place it pinged. I’ll get the warrant out to Genechek so it’s there by the time they get in at eight thirty. We need those DNA results. You’ll be okay here by yourself?”
“Oh please,” Jade replied. “I just have to stay awake. You write the warrants, get them signed, and fax them now. That way in the morning we can get right on it. Now go get started on those warrants and send Matt back over with some food.”
“You just want to be alone in a confined space with Matt.”
Jade winked. “Only because you’re off the market, Parks.”
Connor laughed and got out of the car. He jogged the block back to his own vehicle and made it back to the division in less than fifteen minutes. Matt was thrilled to be relieved.
“Just pick up a cheeseburger from that all-night place on R Street and drop it off to Jade on your way home. Onions, no pickles. And a Coke.”
Matt only looked half-annoyed. “She want fries with that?”
“Nah,” Connor said over his shoulder, heading toward his desk. “Just the burger.”
The division was fairly quiet. It didn’t take long to get the warrants ready. The burner’s user hadn’t been required to register online or with the retailer it was purchased from, but Connor might be able to triangulate the phone’s signal to within a couple of miles. The phone was manufactured by a company called Spur Mobile, which was an MVNO, mobile virtual network operator. Connor knew from a previous case that Spur leased space on Globocell’s network. He also knew that Globocell kept its data on subscribers and nonsubscribers separate. If he could get in touch with Globocell’s legal department in the morning, he should be able to get them to triangulate the phone’s signal. He was in the process of preparing another warrant for Globocell when one of the night-shift detectives called his name from across the room.
“Yeah,” Connor said.
“Webb just radioed for backup. Saw a man in a dark hoodie walking between the houses on Holloway’s street. She was going to check it out. Thought you’d want to know.”
Connor jumped up and glanced at the clock on the wall. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m on my way. O’Handley should be getting there any minute. He’s probably closer than the marked units.”
Connor was only a few minutes away from Holloway’s street when his cell phone rang. He used one hand to swipe “Answer” and pressed the phone to his ear. “Parks.”
Matt’s voice was high-pitched. “It’s Jade,” he said without preamble. “Something happened. I got here—I—I pulled up—I—couldn’t find her. The marked units weren’t here yet. I went looking for her. I—I—”
“Matt,” Connor said, fear tickling the back of his neck. “Slow down. Is Jade there? Put her on.”
The young man’s voice cracked. Connor heard a screechy sob. “I can’t,” he said. “She’s dead.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
By the time Connor arrived, marked units had pulled up behind the vehicle Jade had been sitting in. Their red-and-blue flashing lights had drawn the few press members left in front of the Holloway house. Connor watched as a uniformed officer pushed a cameraman away from Jade’s vehicle. Another uniformed officer was cordoning off the front of the Rohrbach house with yellow crime scene tape.
Matt stood on the sidewalk, typing something into his phone. As Connor got closer, he could see tears streaking the younger detective’s face. Matt wiped them away with the sleeve of his suit jacket, pocketed his phone, and sucked in a deep breath. “I had to stay here to preserve the scene,” he told Connor. “I have one unit driving around to see if they can see this guy on foot and another unit knocking on doors to see if anyone saw or heard anything.”
Connor looked up and down the street. The windows of nearly every house on the block were squares of yellow light in the darkness. Some neighbors had wandered out to their front yards in pajamas and slippers, watching the police closely. He noticed that both the Irving and the Holloway households had been wakened.
“Where is she?” Connor asked.
Matt used his sleeve again to swipe beneath his nose. He looked over his shoulder at the Rohrbach house. “She’s in the backyard.”
“What happened? Was she shot?”
Matt shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. Looks like she was beaten. Her face looks pretty bad. I checked on her first. No pulse. I did a quick sweep of the surrounding yards but didn’t find anyone. No idea where this fucker went. By that
time, the marked units were arriving. Like I said, I sent one of them to see if they can find a male wearing a hoodie skulking around here. Then I called you.”
“I want to see her,” Connor said.
“You can’t go back there, not yet. We have to wait for the crime scene unit and the coroner.” Matt waved his phone in the air. “They’re on the way.”
The rational part of Connor’s mind knew this, of course. But he wasn’t feeling particularly rational at that moment. Jade had been his partner on this case. He had volunteered her for this assignment, then left her there alone, and something terrible had happened. He started walking toward the side of the Rohrbach house. Matt reached him before he made it under the crime scene tape, putting his body between Connor and the tape. “Parks,” Matt said. “Stop.”
Connor motioned toward the grassy path that ran between the Rohrbach house and the house next to it. “What if she’s still alive?” he said. “Are you sure? You’re sure she had no pulse? Did you try to resuscitate her?”
Matt squeezed Connor’s shoulder. “She’s gone, man. Believe me. She was already gone when I got here.”
“You’re sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. Parks, we gotta wait. You know this.”
Acid burned Connor’s throat. His stomach felt like it was somewhere around his feet. “What’s the ETA on the crime scene unit and the coroner?”
“Half hour for the crime scene unit. Maybe a little longer for the coroner.”
Connor couldn’t stand there on the sidewalk for a half hour or longer, trying to tamp down his shock and grief while the press and the neighbors gawked, thinking about Jade alone in the Rohrbach yard. He cleared his throat, though it did nothing to dislodge the lump that had formed there. “Let’s get to work,” he said.
Matt stood guard at the front of the house to ensure that no one but the crime scene unit and the coroner were let inside the perimeter that the uniformed officers had secured. Connor joined the uniforms canvassing the neighboring houses. They checked yards, sheds, and garages to make sure the perpetrator wasn’t hiding out right under their noses. Two hours later, they’d turned up nothing. No bad guys hiding in bushes. No witnesses. A few of the neighbors closest to the Rohrbach household had heard some noises but hadn’t actually seen anything.
