The Hangman (Forgotten Files Book 3)

by Mary Burton

  Julia let her backpack slide to the pavement and opened the box. “I’ve never seen these.” She’d learned at an early age that mentioning her father to her mother or aunt triggered the same response. Time hadn’t changed much.

  The first set of pictures was of her as an infant. She was about three months old, and her dad had long hair and a beard.

  “He was working undercover then,” Cindy said. “He came home every few weeks to see you two. But he was also gone a lot.”

  Feeling a rush of unwelcome emotion, she set the picture aside and dug for the stack that would have been taken at the park. Midway through the pile, she spotted the park location. She handed them off to Novak, not wanting to do the digging. “Here are your pictures.”

  He took them. “I’ll get them back to you.”

  “Keep ’em.”

  “No. I’ll get them back to you.” He slowly folded back the yellowed envelope flap of the drugstore photo developer and pulled out about ten pictures. He laid the first on the hood like a playing card. The picture looked identical to the one found on the body. The next two were the same. However, the fourth was of Julia and Rita.

  Rita was wearing a bright-yellow dress, and her red hair flowed in soft curls around her shoulders. Julia was standing close, grinning.

  Julia cleared her throat. “She was at the soccer field that day. Where was Mom?”

  Cindy frowned. “I thought she was at the game as well.”

  “In 1992 your league hosted a tournament on September 15,” Novak said.

  “You looked up my team?” Julia asked.

  “I needed the timeline,” he said.

  “Cindy, why did Jim take me to the game?”

  “He was trying to be a father. I didn’t think it would last, but you were so glad to see him, I hoped he’d stick around this time.”

  “Why was Rita there?”

  “I don’t know,” Cindy said.

  Novak laid out the remaining three pictures. Two more were of Rita and Julia, and the last was of the three of them grinning.

  “I don’t remember her at all. You’d think I’d remember,” Julia said.

  “Your father’s death really rattled you. There’s a lot from that time and the year after that you didn’t recall,” Cindy said.

  “Like what?”

  “Nothing too dramatic, just details. You were in a fog for a good year.”

  Novak carefully stacked the photos and placed them back in the envelope. “We are working the same case, Julia.”

  We. He spoke about them as if they were a team. The last time she’d been a part of a team, she’d nearly gotten killed. “Thanks, but I have Shield helping me.”

  “Computer work doesn’t take the place of legwork,” he said.

  “What about your caseload?” she challenged.

  “I’ve doubled up before.” A wry grin tugged at his lips. “We make a good team.”

  “I’m not a team player, if you haven’t noticed.”

  “I think it’s a good idea,” Cindy said. “Julia, you’re too close to the Hangman case. He will see the facts with an uncolored view.”

  Both were right. But Novak saw too much.

  “Worried I’ll steal your thunder?” Novak challenged.

  Julia’s practiced smile brightened. “You’re welcome to all the credit for all I care. I want answers.”

  “We want the same thing.”

  He brought objectivity to the case. And she had only five more days before her vacation was up and she would be back to working her regular cases. “Sure. Let’s do it. Makes good sense.”

  “That makes me feel a lot better,” Cindy said to Novak. “She goes it alone too much.”

  “I’ve noticed that,” he said.

  “I’m standing right here,” Julia said.

  Novak slowly closed the flap on the photo envelope. “Cindy, any fresh coffee in the bar?”

  “You bet.”

  When Cindy was out of earshot, Novak said, “Now, tell me who you think left the rope.”

  “I have this under control.”

  He grabbed her arm. “Whoever did this also knows Cindy works here. Your stubbornness could get her hurt.”

  She cared about Cindy’s safety more than her own.

  He tucked the pictures in his breast pocket. “Talk to me, Julia.”

  If not for Cindy, she’d have blown him off. “I think it was someone associated with Benny Santiago.”

  “Tell me about his case.”

  The nudge of the painful memories scratched inside her.

  “Long story short, I hurt Benny’s operation worse than he hurt me.”

  He was silent for a second. “Why hasn’t Benny sent one of his people after you?”

  “I’m sure it’s on his to-do list. Right now his goal is to compel his very expensive attorney to file an appeal. Benny may have a hair-trigger temper, but he’ll get his revenge when it suits him best. I’ll be watching my back for a long time with this guy.”

  “You don’t look too concerned.”

  “Believe me, I’m concerned.” She shook her head. “More and more, I understand why my father stayed away from us. He was trying to keep Mom and me safe.”

  “So you tried to save the girlfriend, and she turned on you?”

  “I ruined a good gig for her, sans the beatings, when Benny was arrested. I guess she thought that like before, she could take the beating, he’d cool off, and life would go back to normal for a while longer.”

  “And if it’s not Lana?”

  “Benny has lots of people who work for him. Lana might have voiced her frustrations loud and clear with me at the courthouse yesterday, but she’s only posturing. I’d wager his crew is acting on Benny’s behalf. Hurting me could leverage anyone up Benny’s food chain.”

  “Let’s drop it off at the lab. Then we can walk the old crime scenes.”

  “Sure, we can do that.”

  He looked around the alley. “You don’t think it’s odd that you grew up and still live near the site of the murders?”

  “My mom needed a place to live after Jim died. Cindy’s bar was here, and the rent was free. None of this area had much significance to me until I read up on the case. And I don’t plan to stay here forever. But Cindy’s getting a little older, and she likes having someone on the property after she goes home at night.”

  “Good place to be until this case is solved. You never forget about it.”

  “Doesn’t matter where I live. I never forget about it.” The intensity of Novak’s stare had her shifting her stance, eager to get going. “You don’t have to come with me to the lab.”

  “We’re a team.”

  “Maybe we should get jerseys and a mascot.”

  “Smart-ass.”

  She muzzled a grin. He was right. The lone-wolf act had not cracked the case so far. And yes, Shield was helping, but no guarantees there. Still, this case was a deeper quagmire than a guy like Novak deserved, especially with her on the team. “Be patient with me. I’m not the easiest person to work with.”

  A dark brow rose. “You’re funny.” He pulled keys from his pocket. “I’ll drive.”

  “We’re standing by my ride.”

  Cindy emerged, carrying two to-go cups of coffee. “Julia takes her coffee black. How about you, Novak?”

  “That’s perfect.” He accepted the cup.

  “Take care of her,” Cindy said.

  Julia sipped coffee. “I’m still here.”

  “I will,” he said to Cindy, and then to Julia, “I’ll drive.”

  “I can drive.”

  Behind the smile lurked steel. “Not today.”

  “I like this guy,” Cindy said.

  For her aunt’s sake, she accepted this small concession. “Have at it.”

  As they headed toward his SUV parked on the street, she asked, “What’re you going to do with the pictures?”

  “Go through them.”

  “Why?”

  “They relate to
my case.”

  She was getting edgy for no rational reason and had to rein in her need to control. “Makes sense.”

  Novak chuckled. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  He clicked his key fob, and the lights of a black Suburban winked. She climbed into the passenger seat, flexing her fingers, already itching to be behind the wheel of her own car.

  “Play nice,” she whispered to herself. “He’s a means to an end.”

  Novak put the photos in the backseat, then slid behind the wheel of the car.

  “The easiest way to get there—” Julia started to say.

  “Thanks, I got this,” Novak interrupted as he put on sunglasses.

  She clicked her seat belt. “Sure.”

  “What was your cover when you worked in Benny’s bar?” he asked.

  She tensed, knowing where a question like that led. “Doubleheader. Bartender and a drug dealer.” It was a little more involved than that, but the less said the better. “I’m a natural seeing as I grew up slinging drinks.”

  “I’ve pulled Benny Santiago’s arrest record. Heavy into drugs and prostitution.”

  “You’ve really been busy.”

  Novak didn’t take the bait. He moved easily in and out of the Main Street traffic. “You were saying about the undercover work?”

  She’d feed him tidbits like she did everyone else. “I played up the fact that I was in the drug world. I created fake track marks on my arm and was quite the tease. I had a good feel for it most of the time. Soon Lana was my best buddy. And talking.”

  “How badly did Benny beat you?”

  Cut to the chase. Novak looked like the all-American guy next door, but she sensed a ruthlessness matched by the likes of Benny. “Don’t you know?”

  “No one is saying much about that.”

  “Good. I’m not interested in a pity party.”

  He slid into a parking space across from the lab. “How bad, Julia?”

  “Bad enough.” She looked out the window, staring at the city’s tall gray buildings.

  He put the car in park and shut off the engine, but didn’t move. He just kept looking ahead.

  “It’s water under the bridge,” she said.

  Novak pulled off his sunglasses and looked at her. She sensed the patience of Job.

  “When I kissed you the first time, you tensed,” he said.

  She gritted her teeth. “Things heated up pretty quickly between us. And I don’t remember any complaints.”

  “No complaints whatsoever. But I wondered why you tensed.”

  “I’m high-strung by nature. And it had been a while since I’d been out with a guy,” she said. “Like I said, what happened at the beach is water under the bridge.”

  Out of the car before he could ask another question, she pushed through the front door of the state forensic lab and showed her ID to the receptionist as Novak came up behind her. “I’m Agent Julia Vargas. This is Detective Tobias Novak. I’m here to drop off an item for testing.”

  The receptionist buzzed them in, and they made their way to the elevators. As the doors opened, he stepped in close to her. When they closed, she pulled in a deep breath. The ride was only a couple of floors. The confined space was manageable.

  When the elevator stopped, Novak held the door and allowed her to go first. She made her way down the long hallway past a series of glass windows that offered a view into the lab. At the end, she found the office and knocked.

  Inside, a woman with graying hair and wearing a white lab coat and glasses looked up at her. “Can I help you?”

  Julia pulled out her badge and introduced herself again. “Is Lucy Franklin here today?”

  “She’s not in today. What can I do for you?”

  “I have a section of rope I need tested,” Julia said.

  The woman rose and reached for an evidence label. “The rope is in regard to what case?”

  Julia pulled off her backpack and removed the bagged rope. “I’m not sure. It was left outside where I live.” She dangled the bag with the noose. “If it was meant to be funny, it failed.”

  The woman nodded. “You want latent fingerprints and DNA?”

  “If you can get them. Maybe you can lift them where the knot forms. Any touch DNA would be great. I’ll take what I can get.” She hoped whoever was sending her this message had also touched the rope with bare hands and left behind skin cells.

  Frowning, the woman peered over her glasses. “Did you report the incident?”

  “It’s a fluid situation,” Novak said. “Right now, your lab is our best shot.”

  “Do you have any suspects in mind?” the woman asked.

  “I think it might have been left by a woman by the name of Lana Ortega,” Julia said. “She’s not a fan, and this would be her way of trying to intimidate me. Be nice to know who left this little memento.”

  The woman accepted the bag and attached a label. “Okay. I’ll call you as soon as we have any details.”

  Julia left her card, and minutes later they were outside.

  Novak fished his keys out of his pocket, jangled them in his hand. “You’re pretty calm about this.”

  She didn’t dare permit fear as they got into the car. If she allowed it, others would sense blood in the water. Game over if that happened. “I focus on what I can control. And right now, I’ve done all I can do. I’ll worry later when I have more facts. Ready to view a crime scene?”

  He started the car. “Sure.”

  “The warehouse crime scene where the first victim, Rene Tanner, was found has been converted into a restaurant on the bottom floor and upscale condos on the top levels.”

  As she paused, he said, “The second Hangman murder site is now an apartment building.” He drove down Cary Street, which cut through the heart of Shockoe Bottom.

  “I bet your mom had the bumper sticker ‘My Kid’s an Honor Roll Student,’” Julia said. “And that you also sat in the front of the class and asked lots of questions.”

  Novak slid into a parallel parking spot. “I know this area well, and I spent a good portion of last night getting up to speed on the Hangman case basics, like that the site of the third murder has remained relatively unchanged.”

  They walked the brick sidewalk under the bridge toward the long dark building that hugged the James River. Ten years ago, this entire area was submerged in water after a freak storm. So if by some fluke evidence did survive, it would likely have been destroyed.

  “I’m mostly interested in what the space looks like. Why choose warehouses? What was it about this building that attracted the killer?” Julia asked.

  He reached for the warehouse door posted with a “No Trespassing” sign, ratting the lock. Then he pulled a small case from his breast pocket and opened it, working with two small picks. The lock yielded in seconds.

  “I’d be impressed if I actually saw that.”

  They stepped inside the dark structure, where Novak found a light switch and turned it on. Large fluorescents buzzed overhead and gave off a faint glow. Even in the dim light, the stain left on the walls from the flood was visible. A dank, musty smell clung to the air.

  From her backpack, Julia removed a crime-scene photo tucked in her case folder. She angled the image until she had the exact space in her sights. “Our luck is turning,” she said, grinning.

  A chill passed through her as she thought about her father standing in this exact spot, staring up at the body of the third victim, Vicky Wayne. Like her, her father had studied the same beams, smelled the same moist, dense air, and walked the wood floor.

  Novak stepped back; his gaze methodically swept over the open warehouse space. “What do you remember about your father?”

  “He wasn’t around much, and when he was, he was bone-tired and on edge. He was also a good guy, and he loved us.” A distant memory coaxed a small smile. “He always grilled hamburgers on my birthday.”

  “What did your mother say about him when he wasn’t around?”


  “Always positive, but as I grew older she said less and less. Said he was one hell of a cop. Aunt Cindy tries not to complain about him, but she never liked him. She always thought he took the easy way out.”

  “At least your father didn’t try to take anyone with him when he killed himself.”

  She hesitated, waiting for him to expand on the comment. When he didn’t, she handed him several photographs. The light above them had brightened, chasing away the shadows and revealing the old brick walls of the large barren room. He held up the crime scene captured in the photograph.

  In the picture, the woman’s suspended figure was front and center in the shot. Her body was wrapped in a series of knots that began with coils around her ankles. The ropes twisted around and up her legs until they banded around her waist. From there the rope snaked across her breasts and then around her neck. Her hands were bound behind her back.

  “I also have video,” she said. She dug a tablet from her backpack and selected a computer file created from the original VCR tape. She hit “Play” and handed it to Novak.

  “We’re at the third murder scene.”

  She recognized the deep baritone voice of her father. She wished she could say she had better memories of him reading bedtime stories, but she didn’t.

  “She looks like she was strangled to death similar to the other two,” the voice continued.

  A much younger and more muscular Ken Thompson stepped into the frame. While her father was forever frozen in time as a young man in the prime of his life, Ken had since become old. Seeing Ken’s broad shoulders, thick dark hair, and trimmed mustache caught her off guard. She’d forgotten how handsome he had been.

  Ken opened a small spiral notebook. “I spoke to a dozen people in the area, and no hits.”

  “No one who’s around here is going to call it in even if they did see something. Only trouble comes here.”

  In the background, several officers grabbed the rope holding the woman, and while one cut, another held the body, digging his feet in so it wouldn’t drop to the floor.

  Slowly the woman’s body came to the floor, the stiff legs and torso coming to an awkward rest. Her feet were discolored a dark blue.

  “She’s rigid, which means rigor mortis has set in. She’s been dead, what, about twenty-four hours?” Ken asked.