The Hangman (Forgotten Files Book 3)

by Mary Burton

“Julia Vargas. She’s the prize.”

  “Killing a cop . . . you’re overplaying your hand.”

  A grin tipped the edge of his lips as he looked at the ropes in his hands. “I’m not always logical, if you haven’t noticed.”

  “Why her?”

  “Partly because it’s a job. Partly because she thought she could catch me, like her old man. She needs to know she can’t. Like you need to know you can’t control me.”

  He wrapped the rope around her neck, and she closed her eyes. Tendons tightened and bulged. He secured the rope at the base of her neck, then began to wind it around and around until it formed a high collar that brushed the underside of her chin.

  “It might not feel tight now, but once I suspend you, your good lung won’t be able to take in air as well. The angle combined with the rope is going to take its toll. You would suffocate in a matter of hours. The best you can do is relax into your bindings and allow death to release you. Struggling brings only more pain and worry.”

  He moved to the rope looped around a large hook and began to pull. She rose up on tiptoes, and her little pink-painted toes fluttered above the ground. A sound gurgled in her throat. He watched as her feet kicked. When her eyes rolled back in her head, he slackened the rope and allowed her body to crumple to the floor.

  “Don’t. Please,” she gasped. “I can pay.”

  He crouched beside her, watching the color return to her pale face. “I have no doubt you could pay me more. But you must know that this stopped being about money a long time ago.” He stared up at the rafters. “I’m running out of places to display my work, so I guess this is going to have to be a private collection.”

  She moistened her lips; her gaze steadied on him. “I’ll get you whatever you want.”

  He pulled the rope taut, forcing her to rise up on her knees, her feet, and then her tiptoes. “Nothing you have that I want—well, except for your life.”

  “Please,” she rasped.

  He jerked hard on the rope. It tightened around her neck, cutting into the flawless white flesh, and she gagged as her feet rose up off the ground again. She was now suspended several feet above the ground. He tied off the rope and stepped back, savoring the twitching and jerking of her muscles as they begged for oxygen.

  Such a rush!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Sunday, November 5, 7:00 p.m.

  “Found a few videotapes that might be of interest,” Cindy said to Julia as she came down the back stairs to the bar.

  “What tapes?”

  “Found them in storage at my house. They were taken of your parents and you. Looks like your birthday party.”

  Julia eyed the three dusty tapes sitting on the edge of the bar. “I haven’t seen these before, have I?”

  “I don’t think you have. When your mom showed up with you after your father died, she had lots of boxes that I shoved anywhere I could find. I found these tapes in the back top closet under a stack of blankets. Like I said, I have stuff squirreled all around there.”

  Julia set her purse beside the tapes and carefully picked one up. One was marked “Julia’s 7th Birthday.” The others were not labeled. “Do you have a player?”

  “I do. It’s in the back in the cabinet next to the pool table.”

  “Great. I’ll grab it and move it upstairs.”

  “Don’t know what you’re going to find. I hope they’re still intact.”

  Julia heard the hesitancy in her aunt’s voice. “It’s okay. And thank you for these.”

  “I can sit with you while you watch.”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  Cindy rested her hands on her hips. “I’ve been worried about you since you started all this.”

  “Why? I’ve investigated cases before.”

  “Not involving your father. I know it’s been hard to hear people talk about him.”

  “Actually, it’s been therapeutic. Even if some of it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. For so long it was like he didn’t exist. Now he seems more real.”

  Cindy’s expression turned wistful. “I never realized you wanted to talk about him. You never asked.”

  “Whenever I brought up his name, it always led to someone being sad or hurt. So I stopped.”

  Cindy reached out and took Julia’s hand. “You can ask me anything you want about your father.”

  Julia patted her hand. “I’ve discovered he was one hell of a cop, but a complicated man. I can understand now why you might not have liked him.”

  “It was hard not to like Jim. He was a charmer with a devil’s smile. And your mother loved him with all her heart. And every time he told her he was sorry, I think he really meant it. He couldn’t stay put anywhere for long.”

  “What was it like when he was working undercover?”

  “Lonely for your mom. You were so young then. He’d be gone for weeks at a time. I think part of the reason he gave that life up was you. He hated seeing you cry when he left. He gave up undercover to work homicide, and they were happy for a time, but then he started staying out late. He said it was the Hangman case, but Amy had her suspicions.”

  “Cases like that can eat up a lot of a cop’s life. He could have been telling the truth.”

  “I think it was true at first. He was working long hours with his partner. I gave him the benefit of the doubt. And I know he missed his old job. Once his ex-partner came by the bar, and they must have talked a couple of hours. I thought he was coping with the new life, but one night your mom brought you by the bar and asked if I’d watch you for a few hours. Said she was going for a drive. When she came back, she was crying. She’d been following your father.”

  “She saw him with another woman?”

  “She never would say. Only that you two would be staying above the bar and that she wasn’t going back. Jim came by the next day. He was upset. I’d never seen him this upset, but this time he looked broken. Your mother told him she wanted a divorce.”

  “When was this?”

  “Several months before he died.”

  “What made her decide to go back?”

  “Jim Vargas had the devil’s charm. He could make anyone like him. And he set his sights on winning your mother back. She said the marriage was over. He said it would never happen again. He told me the same thing, and as much as I knew about the guy, I even believed him. Like I said, the devil’s charm.”

  “And you never found out who he was seeing?”

  “No. Didn’t matter. If not this girlfriend, it would have been another later. As much as I wanted my sister to be happy, your father was doomed to make her miserable.”

  “Was it Rita?”

  “Could have been. Those two got on well together.” She nodded toward the three tapes. “Have a look at those, and if you have more questions, you know where to find me.”

  “Thanks.”

  Julia changed into sweats and a T-shirt and then went to the poolroom, where she dug through a cabinet until she found a dusty VCR. In her room she plugged it into the outlet, and after a few minutes of trial and error, had it connected to a small television.

  She didn’t have a remote, forcing her to pull up a chair close to the television so that she could hit “Play.” She chose the video that read “Julia’s 7th Birthday,” hoping to start with something upbeat. She pushed the video into the machine, and her fingers hovered over the “Play” button before she pressed it. Julia sat back, folding her arms over her chest as the static crackled. Then the image of a backyard popped onto the screen. She knew from pictures that it had been her parents’ home. She recognized a tall oak and the gray privacy fence. Her parents had bought the house when her father transferred to homicide. Balloons tied to the back fence wafted gently in the breeze, and in the background a neighbor’s dog barked.

  In the next frame, a little version of herself ran out into the yard. She was wearing shorts and a blue-and-white-striped T-shirt, and her hair was short and curly. She was laughing, running toward the balloons. The c
amera panned to the right, and her mother’s voice said, “Today is Julia’s big day. She’s seven years old.”

  Julia hit “Pause” and replayed the section, this time closing her eyes as she listened again to her mother’s voice. It had been so long, and she’d forgotten what her mother sounded like. When she looked at the screen again, her mom was panning the camera toward a group near a smoking barbecue grill. There were more children running around, their laughter bubbling up as they played with Julia.

  The adults gathered on the small back porch were cops. Some were in uniform as if they’d swung by after or before a shift, and others were in plain clothes. One man had long hair and a thick beard and looked like he belonged on the streets rather than at a kid’s birthday bash. Novak had visited her father’s former partner and told her of the meeting. She’d bet money that was Nate Unger.

  Her father stood at the grill. He held a spatula in one hand and a bottled beer in the other. Beside him were Ken and Wendy. As Julia studied Ken and Wendy, she was struck by the change in appearance of both over the years. Wendy could only be described as hot. She wore her clothes tight and her thick blond hair loose around her shoulders.

  Ken looked into the camera. “Are we going to get the cake?”

  Her mother’s laugh drifted from behind the camera. “Very soon.”

  “How about now?” Ken asked. “Starving.”

  “Sure. I think the kids are more than ready.”

  Julia wished her mother had turned the camera around so she could see her face. Instead, her mother set it down and followed Ken. The footage continued to roll.

  Jim Vargas continued to grill and sip his beer while Wendy moved closer to talk to him. As she spoke, too quiet for the camera’s microphone, Jim’s body tensed. He looked toward her. She tried to touch his hand, but he pulled away. The movements were so small, anyone at the party could have missed their interaction.

  She hit “Rewind” and replayed the footage. Wendy reached for Jim. He tensed and pulled away, quickly glancing toward the door.

  Ken’s voice boomed from behind the camera. “Birthday girl! We have cake!”

  A gaggle of squealing children ran from offscreen. Wendy put several steps of distance between her and Jim and smiled brightly. The camera rocked and the picture jumped as her mom settled the camera back up on her shoulder. The kids came running toward the cake, and seven-year-old Julia dashed to the head of the table. Jim lit the candles, and everyone sang “Happy Birthday.” Wendy snuggled close to Ken, and he kissed her on the cheek. Life went on; the moment was gone. The tape stopped.

  Julia arrived at the Thompson house after eight. Ken often went to bed early because his meds made him sleepy. Julia was counting on this when she rang the bell. She wanted privacy when she spoke to Wendy.

  Wendy came to the door. Her smile was hesitant. “Julia? You all right?”

  “Is Ken awake?”

  Wendy glanced quickly behind her as if there were a problem. “No, he’s asleep for the night.”

  “Good, I want to talk to you about my father.”

  “Look, whatever Ken told you about a note is also news to me. I can’t help you with that.”

  “It’s not about the note.” When she dealt with suspects or witnesses in her professional life, she’d never had trouble asking the hard questions, but she did now. She liked Wendy. Remembered all the times she’d seen her while growing up and how nice the woman had been to her.

  “Can we go to the front porch in case Ken wakes?” Julia said.

  Wendy stepped out onto the porch. “Now you’re making me nervous.”

  “Sorry. That’s not my intent. I found this old video,” she said, pulling her phone from her pocket. “It’s my seventh birthday. You and Ken were there.”

  “I remember that party. Such a fun afternoon. It was a lifetime ago.”

  Julia had taped the video on her phone. She played it for Wendy. “Have a look.”

  The now-gray-haired woman with a sick husband was transported back to a more joyful time. Julia closely watched Wendy’s expression grow strained as the tape played.

  “Wendy,” Julia said, accepting her phone back. “I couldn’t help but notice how close you were to Jim.”

  “He was Ken’s partner. Makes sense we’d be close.”

  “Being a cop has developed an innate radar in me. I can tell when there’s more to the story.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s the way you touched his arm and his reaction. You two shared a secret.”

  Wendy pushed back her bangs with the back of her hand. “You’re reading too much into an old video.”

  “I don’t think so.” She glanced at the screen and hit “Play.” Again the scene of Wendy touching Jim’s arm, him flinching and glancing around, played. “He’s afraid you two will be seen together by his coworkers, his wife, his daughter. He’s worried they’ll see something.”

  “I’ve been married to a homicide cop for twenty-five years. I know a fishing expedition when I see one.”

  “I watched that tape a dozen times since my aunt gave it to me an hour ago, and as much as I wanted to find another explanation, I can’t.”

  Wendy rubbed her forearm. “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Did Ken know? Would his reaction to this video be the same as mine?”

  Her lips thinned into a grim line. “Do not bring Ken into this. It wouldn’t be fair given his state.”

  “My aunt suspected Jim was sleeping around again and that’s why Mom left him. Some think he was sleeping with Rita Gallagher or Rene Tanner. You never denied you were having an affair with him.”

  Her brows knotted. “You misunderstand.”

  “How do I have it wrong?”

  “Jim loved your mother, and he adored you. He never would have hurt you.”

  “I don’t think his intention was to hurt my mother or me. He’d been on his own so much while he was doing his undercover work, and he got lonely. Mom accepted what happened between them while they were apart, but when he joined homicide she had dreams of a conventional marriage. But old habits for Jim must have died hard. And he still worked long hours, often side by side with you.”

  Her face paled. “You have it all wrong.”

  “It must have been painful for you when he died. I can see that you cared for him.”

  Tears glistened in Wendy’s eyes. “Julia, you need to let the past stay buried. There’s no good that will come from it.”

  “My intent is not to hurt anyone. You worked in close quarters with my father. What happened then?”

  She tipped her chin up. “I was good at what I did.”

  Julia pressed. “You worked side by side with him for months. Long hours. You fell in love and slept with him.”

  She jabbed a finger at Julia. “I didn’t sleep with him.”

  “But you did love him,” she said softly.

  “Yes. I loved him. But not how you think. We didn’t sleep together.”

  “Did you love Jim enough to destroy forensic evidence linking him to the murders? You worked in the lab then.”

  “What?”

  “There were whispers for years that Jim was the Hangman. It was the reason he supposedly shot and killed himself. But no one could prove it because the DNA samples from the three murder scenes had been compromised due to improper storage.”

  Wendy drew in a breath. “What are you saying?”

  “Did you destroy evidence to protect Jim?”

  “Jim wasn’t the Hangman,” she said. “Anyone who knew him knew that.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Because I’m not answering that question.”

  “What were you trying to tell Jim that day? Did you tell him what you found at one of the crime scenes? Did you tell him that you loved him?”

  “No!”

  “It wasn’t idle chatter, Wendy. What was it?”

  She clenched her fingers. “I told him Rita was trouble. I was at Bil
ly’s to see Amy when I caught Rita coming out of your aunt’s office at the bar. I confronted her. She said she was using the phone, but she was lying. I told her to stay away from Jim.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She laughed in my face. Said she could make Jim do whatever she wanted.”

  “If Rita had a hold on Jim, what did she expect from him?”

  “I don’t know. But whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Men didn’t see her as the manipulator she could be. What you saw in that tape was me telling Jim to watch his back with her.”

  “Her autopsy revealed she was pregnant. Maybe this was all about the baby.”

  Wendy frowned. “I didn’t know about the baby.”

  Rita had been nearly twenty weeks along and had hidden her pregnancy. Julia didn’t speak, sensing Wendy had more to tell.

  Wendy rubbed her hand over the back of her neck. “Rita knew Jim and Amy were struggling. They’d never really had a traditional marriage, and they were discovering it was harder than they thought to live a normal life. Rita wanted Jim to herself. She was fun and so exciting. And she was good at twisting him around her finger. He was such a fool. There were times I thought she took the job at Billy’s just to be close to Jim.”

  “Did he remember her from his undercover days?”

  “With a body like that, do you think any man would have forgotten her?”

  So Rita had intentionally come back into Jim’s life? “Rita told all her friends she had a boyfriend named Jack. Is that true?” Julia asked.

  “If Jack was actually real, I never saw him.” She touched her fingers to her temple. “When Ken told me Jim was dead, Rita was the first person I thought of.”

  “Why?”

  “She didn’t like hearing no. I could picture her losing her temper. Ken went to look for her, but she had vanished.”

  “So who killed her?”

  Julia stood on the street in front of the house where Rita Gallagher’s body had been found a week ago. Yellow crime-scene tape was strung across a rotting wooden front door. The floor-to-ceiling windows by the door had been broken by the fire department and were now boarded up with plywood. Several signs planted across the front lawn warned that this house was an active crime scene and not to be entered.