You Fit the Pattern

by Jane Haseldine

  “My editor is going to expect me to write something about what happened this morning, and I want to be sure you’re okay with it. I won’t use your name. Are you all right with me referring to you as a ‘Royal Oak single mother in her thirties’?”

  Christy looked down at her hands that were knotted into fists, and nodded her consent. “Sure, as long as you don’t think your story is going to piss the guy off and make him come back for me or my kid.”

  “I wouldn’t write anything if I did. Remember what I said. You can call me if you want to talk. Trauma finds a way to nest inside a person, so it’s important to let it out.”

  Julia pushed back the natural fight in her to stay and let herself out of Christy’s house. She pulled out her keys to get into her vehicle when a voice called out to her.

  “Gooden, hold on,” Navarro said.

  “Don’t you want me out of here before Chief Washington shows up?”

  “It’s nothing personal. You got a piece of paper? I want to show you something.”

  “Sure.” Julia reached into her purse and pulled out one of her skinny, old school reporter’s notebooks and a pencil, which Navarro took from her.

  He drew a large circle at the bottom of a piece of paper.

  “Russell and I were talking about this on the drive over. The big circle, that’s Detroit. That’s where the killer murdered April Young and Heather Burns. April Young lives and works in Hamtramck,” Navarro said, and drew a small circle on the paper above Detroit with an H next to it. “But he picked her up in the RiverWalk in the city.”

  “I know this already.”

  “Hold on. The second victim, Heather Burns, works in Detroit, but the killer picked her up in Northville, that’s half an hour northwest of the city,” he said, and drew a third circle on the upper left hand of the page.

  “I think I know where you’re going with this. Christy King, she works in Detroit, but he tries to pick her up here in Royal Oak,” Julia said, and pointed to a place on the page just above the large Detroit circle. “The parks are too spread out. His initial contact with the women wasn’t in the parks. He met them somewhere else first.”

  “Exactly. There’s something that links all these women and you. We just have to figure out what.”

  “You think the killer is a cop?” Julia asked.

  “I’m not ruling anything out yet. I think my earlier theory that he’s role-playing is right, and each role connects to you. The principal at the teacher’s school said a man approached April Young at the RiverWalk and claimed he had a son named Ben who died.”

  “Ben is the connection. With Heather Burns, the killer likely wore a gray wig that was found in the women’s room, so he was probably posing as an older woman.”

  “If the killer knows you, he likely knows Helen,” Navarro said. “And whether the police uniform today was real or a costume, you cover the crime beat and you date a cop.”

  “If the role playing is true, MMK is taking a lot of intricate steps, more than I’ve ever seen before. But why?”

  “MMK wants your attention and the notoriety,” Navarro said. “That’s why you and your boys need to be right next to me. The apartment downtown is all set. I can meet you at your house after work and drive everyone over.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but Logan has a basketball game tonight. Helen is going to meet me there with the kids and then we’ll all go to the apartment from there. I’ve got to keep things as normal as possible for Logan and Will right now.”

  “I’ll meet you at the game if I get out in time. I’m going back inside. Christy’s son woke up and she needed to take a break to get him settled before we started back in. We’re going to take her down to the station later if she’s up to it to look at some pictures. See you later, beautiful.”

  Julia watched as Navarro returned to Christy’s house and then snatched her ringing cell phone, in case it was MMK calling back for another round.

  “Hi, Julia. It’s Charlotte. Charlotte Fisher. Our kids play basketball together. I hope I’m not calling too early. Are we still on for a run today? We talked about getting together this Friday.”

  Julia did a quick pan of her watch as she calculated her next move.

  “Sure, I’ll go for a run with you. Are you familiar with Belmont Park in Royal Oak?” Julia asked.

  “No, but I should be able to find it.”

  “Let’s meet there in an hour and a half, if that works for you,” Julia said, knowing if she arrived too early at the park, where Christy almost got nabbed, the cops would kick her out, since they would be treating it as an active crime scene.

  “Sure. My ex has Steven for the weekend, so I’m flexible. See you soon.”

  A familiar Chevy Suburban pulled in front of Christy’s house with a city patrol car behind it before Julia could make her escape. Washington exited the Suburban, looked up at the house, and then back to Julia.

  “I was just leaving. Navarro and Russell are interviewing Christy. I just stopped by here to be sure Christy was okay. I know the rules. You’ll want to know, MMK called me a few minutes ago. I recorded the conversation and gave Navarro the tape on the agreement that I’d get a written transcript from both calls,” Julia said, and noticed the look of piqued interest over the mention of the call on the chief’s face. “Don’t get too excited about the phone conversation. It was short and untraceable. Russell already checked. Essentially, all MMK said was that he was going to make the clues harder from here on out. And he was mad that Christy King was saved before he could kill her. He did mention the number five, so there could be some significance there. I’m thinking five could be the number of his intended victims.”

  “Thanks for turning over the tape. We’ll get you a transcript of both calls. I heard you helped find the woman.”

  “Navarro was the one who found her,” Julia bluffed, preferring to give Navarro the accolades for Christy’s save. “I just caught a lucky break and reached the owner of the bar before he did.”

  “Nice work on both your parts. Just make sure my guys get partial credit. They’ve been busting their asses trying to find the killer. I’m assuming you’re writing a story.”

  “Yes, but I’m not using Christy’s name. Are you still thinking the killer could be a cop? You’ll need to ask Christy, but from what she told me, it sounds like the man in the park was wearing a costume or some kind of outfit to make her think he was a police officer. Unless you’ve decided to equip your patrol unit with old Buicks, I’m guessing the man in the park wasn’t one of yours.”

  “Don’t write about the cop angle yet, Julia. I mean it. We don’t need any leaks, especially about one of our own. Off the record?”

  “Sure.”

  “We don’t have any solid leads at this point that make us believe the killer is tied to law enforcement, or the military, for that matter. The only thing that points us in that direction is the theory of a former convict who was high at the time.”

  “Jeb Wilson.”

  “Is there anything you don’t know? You’re good at what you do and you’ve never personally burned me or the department, but I understand that you and Navarro are seeing each other again. There are some things we don’t tell the press or the public because it could jeopardize a case. He needs to be careful what he tells you. We’re still in agreement about the limitations of your involvement in the investigation?”

  “Yes, but in all due respect, Navarro is a pro and would never give me information if he thought it could jeopardize a case. I have lots of sources in the department, including you. And in case you forgot, the killer is reaching out to me and I’m the one filling you in.”

  “And that’s one of the reasons I need you to be careful. The way I see it, you’re looking at this more like you’re writing a story than trying to take care of yourself. You’ve got two kids, Julia. You need to think about them before you put yourself in harm’s way, chasing down this story.”

  “When you were first starting out on patrol, did
anyone ever criticize you for ‘putting yourself in harm’s way’ because you had young kids? Or how about when you made detective? Mothers aren’t supposed to put themselves in danger, right, Beth?”

  “I was doing my job.”

  “So am I. I can’t help but wonder if you’d be giving me that same piece of advice if I were a man,” Julia said.

  Washington took off her sunglasses, looked Julia in the eye, and gave her a nod of shared understanding.

  “Point taken. Good job on finding Christy,” Washington said. She pointed at the patrol car parked behind her and then beckoned with a roll of her finger for the driver to get out.

  Branch LaBeau exited, carrying a tray containing two extra large Dunkin’ Donuts coffees.

  “I know introductions aren’t necessary,” Washington said. “Although the bodies of the two victims were found inside Detroit churches, Heather Burns and Christy King were running in suburban parks. LaBeau is the point person who’ll be working with the various city PDs and the sheriff departments, specifically Oakland and Wayne counties right now. I’m hoping we’re not going to have to expand the perimeter if we get more victims. That’s not for attribution, but you can quote me on this, ‘We’re not trying to alarm citizens, and they should feel safe going about their daily activities, but we are asking women not to run alone in parks at this time.’ Off the record, we’ll be beefing up patrols in city and county parks with running trails.”

  “That’s a lot of ground to cover. How are you going to patrol every single park with running trails in metro Detroit, not to mention Oakland and Wayne counties?” Julia asked.

  “Teamwork. We’ve got twelve city PDs and sheriff departments partnering with us,” LaBeau said. “We’ve pinpointed a list of all the running trails in Detroit and the counties in question, and the law enforcement agencies in those areas jumped on board to help.”

  “MMK is smart. Unless he wants to get caught, he’s probably already changed his MO because of what just happened with Christy King,” Julia said.

  “Maybe, but we aren’t going to take that chance. LaBeau, be sure Julia finds her way out of the neighborhood. I’m going inside.”

  LaBeau handed the boss a coffee from the container and then offered Julia the other cup.

  “Thanks. But I’m not going to take yours.”

  “I’d have brought another if I knew you were going to be here. So, no offense, Julia, but boss’s orders.”

  “I know, I’m leaving. Are you going inside?”

  “No, I’m heading to Belmont Park with the other peons to see if the killer left anything behind. Detectives are the top dogs. Patrol, we’re the B Team, but I don’t mind. I had my chances to rise up to detective, but there’s a freedom of working the streets. You can stay under the radar more,” LaBeau said. He put the coffee tray on the top of Julia’s hood and then opened her car door. “I hear you’re with Navarro these days. Stand-up guy.”

  “I agree. How’s your wife doing? Is she still at Henry Ford Hospital? Being a nurse, that’s a calling in my book.”

  “She was just promoted to head nurse in the trauma ward. I married up. See you around, Gooden,” LaBeau said. “You’re not planning on trying to circle the block and then show back up here after I leave, right?”

  “The thought never crossed my mind.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Julia sped through the rear entrance of Royal Oak’s Belmont Park, having returned home to change into her running gear and file her story on Christy King. She made a point to enter the park through the back lot, since she figured the residual cops playing clean up would likely be positioned at the front of the property. For Julia, back entrances to crime scenes were always the best bet and would, hopefully, at the very least, buy her a few minutes before she got booted out.

  Julia estimated it would be a fast in-and-out for the police. Murder scene investigations could take days. But this was a different animal. Since Christy King fled the park hours earlier, the police, in Julia’s estimation, had likely canvassed the surrounding residential neighborhood already and finished their door-to-door to see if anyone saw the man in the Buick or, better yet, a license plate. They would’ve also completed a thorough search of the park for anything the killer might have left behind, including scoping the trails, surrounding woods, and the two open parking-lot areas.

  Julia checked her cell phone and played a voice mail from her editor, Virginia, who was calling with a fresh ration of grief over Julia’s steadfast refusal to include Christy King’s name in the story and the fact that she had e-mailed the story remotely instead of coming into the newsroom.

  Her latest article on the Magic Man Killer detailed the roller coaster of events that had occurred in the last twenty-four hours: the killer’s phone call that led Julia to Roseline’s apartment; the note she found at John K. King Used & Rare Books; the discovery of Christy King, who Julia referred to as a Royal Oak single mother in her thirties, and finally, Christy’s razor-thin escape.

  Julia parked at the far side of the lot and did a quick inventory of the police cars by the entrance. Three vehicles were still at the scene, including a single Royal Oak police cruiser, a Detroit patrol vehicle, and a Nissan Sentra. Julia picked up a few familiar faces and moved toward the huddle of cops. The crew consisted of two unfamiliar faces who, Julia figured, were Royal Oak PD, LaBeau and his partner, and, most important, her strong ally, Prejean.

  The officers seemed to move their heads collectively as one at Julia’s approach, with LaBeau and Prejean breaking from the pack to meet her halfway.

  “Hey, Julia. This isn’t my call. But the boss told you not to come back here,” LaBeau said.

  “Beth asked me to leave Christy’s house. And I did. This is a public park, which I’m guessing has recently been reopened after your initial crime scene investigation. That means I have every right to be here. I won’t get in your hair. I just came here to run.”

  Prejean gave Julia a wide smile and a wink. “She’s got a point there.”

  LaBeau looked back at his partner and the two Royal Oak officers, who were getting into their respective patrol cars, and made his decision.

  “All right, Julia. You’re not going to find anything here, but if you want to waste your time, have at it. The trails are open, but watch yourself on the unpaved parts. It rained late last night and the ground is still loose in some spots. I almost fell on my ass when we scoped out the trails a couple hours ago,” he said. LaBeau then turned to Prejean. “My partner and I are going to head back to the station. Your call, but you can feel free to leave as well.”

  “I’ll hang for a bit. I need to catch up with Julia about dinner plans,” Prejean said.

  “Right, I’m sure that’ll be your topic of conversation. You want to brief Julia about what we found, have at it, as long as I don’t catch heat for leaking anything to the media. It doesn’t look good with the higher-ups. But you’re on rental, so you don’t need to worry about it.”

  “Down South, we’re not so paranoid. We use the media, they use us. It’s a functional relationship. Come on, Julia, let’s take a walk.”

  Prejean put his hand on Julia’s elbow and waited until they were halfway across the first parking lot until he spoke.

  “You handled yourself well back there, girl. I was impressed.”

  “Did the cops find anything when they searched the park?”

  “This isn’t my case, so you should check with the chief or Navarro whether you can write about this. . . .”

  “Okay, just for background then,” Julia said. “Come on. You know you can trust me.”

  “Like LaBeau said, it rained last night. So they were able to pick up two distinct tire tracks in the dirt lot, one from Christy King’s car in the rear entrance and one from the Buick by the front entrance. They’re working on getting a three-dimensional print from the Buick’s tire tracks now.”

  “It’s too bad Christy didn’t get anything on the plate.”

  “We got somethin
g else. The way I figure what went down, the killer was surprised when Christy bolted out of the park. He realized she was onto him and that maybe you tipped her off. He knows the cops are about to show up, so he gets scared and sloppy. We found a small blue-velvet satchel on the ground next to the tracks where we believe the Buick was parked. The satchel wasn’t wet from the rain, so by process of elimination, we figured the killer must have dropped it when he was hightailing it out of here.”

  “What was in the satchel?”

  “A folded-up drawing of a red-and-turquoise heart.”

  “The Erzulie voodoo symbol.”

  “There was something else inside the satchel, a miniature building. It looked like a city skyscraper. It was gray and plastic and about six inches tall. From what LaBeau and the local cops said, it doesn’t look like any specific building in Detroit.”

  “MMK called me after Christy escaped. He told me the clues were going to get harder, but I’m guessing you’re right. He didn’t mean to leave this one when he hightailed it out of here. The Magic Man Killer planned to leave the building clue behind in Christy King’s hands after he killed her, as a clue about his next victim. Maybe the woman is an architect or works in a building downtown. You’d have to check, but the tallest buildings in Detroit, to my knowledge, are the Marriott, One Detroit Center, the Penobscot Building, probably the Renaissance Tower, and maybe the Guardian Building.”

  A bright yellow VW Bug with a plastic pink daisy on the dashboard, pulled into the parking lot and stopped next to Julia’s car. Charlotte got out of the VW and gave Julia a wave.

  “Is that your friend? She’s a cutie. You should tell her what a great guy I am.”

  “Not a chance. Charlotte is a new acquaintance, and technically, you’re still married.”

  Charlotte jogged over to the pair, but kept a watchful eye on the police cars that were pulling out of the park entrance.

  “What’s with all the cops?” Charlotte asked. “Should we go somewhere else?”

  “There was an incident here this morning, but it’s been resolved,” Julia said.