Bill slowly leans back on the park bench, next to Pitt, letting out a huff while the world continues to buzz around them. They watch as children run freely through the park, people with rollerblades zip past, young mothers talk loudly about their exciting days.
He finds it strange how the world just continues to keep going around, moving with undeviating regularity, seemingly unaware of the frenzied violence, death, and hatred that simmers just beneath the surface.
People wander about their everyday lives without a care, ignoring the human hatred that drenches the atmosphere, trying to believe that the world is filled with goodwill and love.
As a criminal defense attorney, he’s aware that isn’t true.
The pain, the terror, and the horror are swept aside just far enough away not to have to think about.
Forgotten. Ignored.
But it’s always there.
Always threatening to explode.
Bill Harvey knows that very well. He has seen more than his fair share.
“Who hates drunk people enough to go around killing them?” Pitt shakes his head. “This isn’t the days of prohibition. The general population has moved on in the world. And you would have to kill a lot of people if you wanted to rid the world of drunks. That would be an impossible task. Doesn’t add up for me. More like a serial killer picking easy targets. They’re seizing opportunities to waste these people. Maybe someone with the taste of blood. They do it once, and then they can’t get enough. Like my pal, Martin. He went skydiving for the first time on his fiftieth birthday, and a year later, he’s doing it every weekend. He can’t get enough. He’s addicted to it.”
Bill shakes his head at the comparison. “These deaths don’t seem premeditated, but they also don’t seem to be random occurrences. I think the killer snaps when they see certain situations.” Bill leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The killer holds a deep hatred for certain people, and that hatred is exposed in the right, or perhaps wrong, situations. And the more they get away with murder, the more they’ll thirst for it.”
“Well, there would certainly be plenty of fuel for that fire around here. Drunks are half our population.” Pitt laughs. “The killer must think this city is a field of opportunity.”
“What exactly does the police profile say for this serial killer? What is it about my brother that matches your profile so well?”
“I haven’t seen the full profile report, just bits and pieces. But it’s all the stuff you’d expect for a serial killer who spends his spare time choking homeless drunks to death. Firstly, they have to be strong enough to wrestle a drunk and get the rope around their neck—”
“Maybe it’s not strength. Maybe it’s skill,” Bill suggests.
“Like a karate skill? Maybe.” Pitt shrugs. “Secondly, it’s most likely that the person is a loner. They live alone and spend a lot of their time alone. Not likely to be married, possibly in a relationship, but not living with the person. Thirdly, they’ve experienced some sort of trauma in their life that affects the way they interact with the world. This is apparently a very important factor. Although it doesn’t have to be a big moment; smaller moments in childhood might also have massive impacts.”
“Like a drunk parent or relative?”
“Possibly. You just never know with these things. People are affected based on different factors, including age, ethnicity, cultural factors, and emotional development. One kid might be unaffected by a bad situation, and another might be torn apart by it. It depends on the kid and where they are at in life. But what the profilers think is that there is some sort of trauma in the person’s life.”
Bill draws a long sigh.
The more he can piece together the evidence, the more he doesn’t like the direction it is heading.
“And I think there might be another death linked to this case,” Bill adds. “There was a murder twelve months ago, a strangulation of a drunk, and a man was charged, and convicted, for it. Currently serving seven years. I went to speak to him in Twin Towers Correctional Facility, and he’s still maintaining his innocence. The situation seems very similar to what happened to Jonathon, and it might be the same killer.”
“Hmm…” Pitt grumbles. “You know we don’t like it when you guys in suits prove us wrong. Especially when we land a conviction.”
“I’m only interested in justice, Pitt. You can take your pride elsewhere.”
“Alright, alright. Settle down. So, what are you thinking? Everything the department has still points to your brother. To us, he’s the serial killer. He’s our guy. They’re going to go big on this one. Mostly, this story has kept out of the papers, but once they link it all together, it’s going to be front-page news. The opportunity for the DA’s office will be massive. If they can land the conviction, they’ll look like a superhero. And your brother will be the most hated man in America.”
“I need more time.”
“You don’t have it. I can’t pull a string that big, Bill. They’re going to pin this on your brother, and then they are going to wheel him out to the press – front and center. His picture is going to be one of the most viewed photos in the city. They already have him for one murder, and they think that it’s an unlosable case. Even if they don’t charge him with the other murders, they’ll tell the media that the serial killer is behind bars. This will be the DA’s greatest triumph.”
“And if he’s not the killer?”
“That doesn’t matter.” Pitt scoffs. “They’re pinning this on him whether you like it or not. It will be trial by media. He’ll be going to prison, and that’ll make the DA look amazing. He’s taken a serial killer off the streets. It’s all politics, Bill. And unfortunately, your brother is at the center of it all.”
“And if the real killer commits another murder again?”
“They’ll say it’s a copycat. This is as much about image for the DA as it is justice. That’s the game they play.” Pitt studies the pained look on his friend’s face. He hasn’t seen Bill Harvey this stressed in a long time, not since the death of his first wife. “I’m sorry, Bill. If I could help you, I would. I would give you time, but I can’t. You don’t have time on this one. As soon as they wheel him out, the whole of California is going to think he’s guilty. One of the victims of the serial killer was a veteran, and you can bet that they’ll spin that line to the public. He’ll be public enemy number one for killing a down-on-his-luck war veteran. You’ll be very hard-pressed to find a jury that won’t convict him on that alone.”
“I know.” Bill runs his fingers through his hair. “I just need more proof before I can make a move.”
“Proof? That must be a strange subject for you.” Pitt smiles. “You spend so much time trying to disprove evidence, that it must feel strange to try and find real evidence.”
Bill turns his head and glares at Pitt.
“Sorry.” Pitt pats his friend on the shoulder. “I couldn’t resist the jab. Tell me, where have your investigations led so far? Who are you going to capture for this one?”
“I’m not going to arrest them. But I do need to know that they’re the right person before I take a shot at them. I’ll get the cards to fall your way, and then you can do the rest. You can put the handcuffs on them.”
“We already have the cards falling our way. If the case plays out as it is now, then your brother is going to prison. And if he goes to prison, then we have taken the killer off the streets. That’s justice – done and dusted. He might be your brother, but that doesn’t make him immune to justice.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“We don’t think like that, Bill. We let the courts decide if we are right and wrong. That’s why your job is important.” Pitt’s voice is laced with sarcasm. “You’re not telling me something though. You have another piece of information that you are not sharing with me. I can tell it in your eyes.”
“The information that I have wouldn’t help you anyway. It is mostly a hunch, but I’m going to follow it a
nd see where it goes.”
“Who is it?”
“I’m going to play that card close to my chest at the moment, just in case I’m wrong. I would hate to throw this person under the bus if I’m mistaken.”
“Bill, let me in on this one. What we are talking about is the calculated and cunning murders of eight people, maybe more. We’re not just talking about a schoolyard bully; this is dangerous. People have died at this person’s hands. They’re strong and full of hate. I wouldn’t want you to be the next body that they find.”
“You know I love a thrill. It keeps me alive.” Bill stands and shakes his friend’s hand solidly. “I’ll update you once I have some concrete evidence. You can put the handcuffs on them.”
“Tread lightly, Bill. And know that I’ve got your back if you need it.”
Chapter 25
“One scoop of vanilla, and go heavy on the sprinkles.”
Jack Grayson stares at Bill, mouth agape. “Really?”
“You’d better make that two.”
The teenage girl at the ice cream store turns and quickly whips up two ice creams, wraps a paper towel around the cones, and hands them across to the two tall men.
“When in Rome.” Bill laughs as he licks the outside of the cone.
Reluctantly, Jack Grayson takes the second ice cream. “I feel like I’m twelve years old.”
“Exactly.” Bill takes another lick. “How good is this ice cream?”
With a confused squint, Jack licks the outside. “Actually, you’re right. This is good.”
The two solid men – one dressed in a shirt, tie, and trousers, and the other in jeans and a black T-shirt, walk through the Santa Monica Pier area, lazily wandering past tourists, locals, and loud-shouting vendors.
“I haven’t had an ice cream cone in… Man, it must be ten years.” Jack laughs. “But I’ve been missing out. This is so good.”
As they wander down the pier, they chat like old friends, creating small-talk to avoid the realities of life. The Californian view magically stretches to the horizon, the sky skimming along the top of the water, the heat hazing the edges.
As he crunches into his brittle cone, Jack states, “You’re not going to like what I have to tell you.”
“Wait.” Bill holds out his hand as a stop sign, also crunching into his cone. “I can’t talk about murder while eating an ice cream cone.”
Jack stops and watches Bill eat the rest of his cone, licking each finger as he goes, trying to taste every final bit of flavor.
When he finishes, he draws a deep breath, trying to recapture the fleeting feeling of youth.
“Finished?”
“I think so.” Bill grins.
“So, you’re not going to like what I found today.”
“I thought not.” Bill’s smile disappears.
Reality hurts.
“Penny’s parents—”
“I know about her parents. It’s horrible. We don’t need to discuss that. Not after an ice cream.”
Jack nods. “After the incident, her aunt, Nicole, your bookkeeper, raised her as her own. Nicole Cowan had no kids of her own, and Penny moved into her apartment. She tried to keep everything normal for Penny, but that was hard after what happened. At school, Penny got into a lot of trouble. Violence – abused teachers, beat the janitor for bumping into her, attacked other students. Her list of troubles there is long, but most people seemed to have excused it because of what happened to her family. She received good grades, but her file is littered with incidents.”
“And since school?”
“Since she left school, she’s been in trouble with the law twice, again both times for violence; although she wasn’t charged for either incident. It was self-defense for the first case: beat a pervert into the ground – put him in hospital for two weeks. I don’t think that guy will grab a random girl’s bottom again.” He laughs. “And the second case never progressed past her arrest. Charges were dropped by the victim without an explanation. The report says that she attacked a builder for laughing at her after she tripped over.”
“He was probably too embarrassed to press charges – beaten up by a pretty, blonde girl. He would never live that down on a building site.” Bill rubs his fingers along his forehead. “I ran a police check before I employed her, but without a charge, neither of those incidents showed up.”
“Nicole also took her to Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu lessons, and there are a lot of photos of her online at different tournaments. From the photos, it appears she has a black belt, just like her aunt. I guess Nicole thought it was important for Penny to defend herself after what happened.”
“Having a black belt doesn’t make her guilty. We could be barking up the wrong tree here.” Bill sighs. “How about Harrison & Wilder?”
“She was employed at Harrison & Wilder between March and June last year.”
“That’s not what I wanted to hear.” Bill clenches his fist. “That’s the same time that Lachlan Shaw was there.”
“Who?”
“A man that could be wrongly convicted of murdering a homeless drunk twelve months ago. Also a strangling.”
“Does it fit the profile for the other murders?”
“Perfectly. There was no direct evidence that Lachlan Shaw was guilty, but they went to court with a weak case, and the jury found him guilty. He’s currently doing seven years in Twin Towers, but still stating that he’s innocent.”
“Do you think it’s related?”
“I do.” Bill nods slowly.
“Penny’s boyfriend is interesting as well. Caleb Wood is a former Marine with a history of violence. Tough guy, from what I can tell. Proudly posts on his Twitter account that he killed people at war, and would do it again for his country. He talks about defending the people he loves. Defending people’s freedoms. Very vocal about defending American rights.”
Bill looks off into the distance. “I really didn’t want this to be true, Jack. I really wanted you to come here and say, ‘Sorry. Dead end.’ But it’s not even close to that. Everything that you’ve said just builds the case against her.”
“What doesn’t add up for me is the fact that she has taken a job with your firm. Why take a job there if she knew that you would be defending your brother?”
“I wasn’t defending my brother when she started.”
“That makes sense,” Jack replies. “Are you convinced that it’s her?”
“Not even close.” He sighs. “What are your thoughts?”
“What we do know is that she’s dangerous. From the photos I have seen of her, she looks strong enough, and she has the skills to make it happen. The pieces of the puzzle are all starting to fall into place. Someone out there is a serial killer, and Penny Pearson has all the right attributes to be that person.”
“I was afraid that you’d say that.” Bill pauses and looks at another ice cream stand. His momentary moment of escapism has already been dulled into the past. “And Valerie Wood?”
“Not a lot of information out there. Former high-flying executive, worked hard, long hours, and got promoted a lot. Seemed to have led quite a stable, normal life, except for the fact that her first husband was a drunk. She works at the Wells Community Center for Mental Health, and on her online profile she writes that she was inspired to help others after she suffered domestic violence at the hands of her drunken husband.”
“Her husband passed away almost two years ago. Do you know how he died?”
“I did a bit of digging on his name, and I found out that he was living on workers’ compensation after losing an arm at work. He was driving a forklift, had an accident, and lost the whole arm. Looks like he lived a tough life. Ended it all a year and a half ago. He hung himself in the family home. Died of strangulation due to the rope tightening around his neck.”
“Interesting,” Bill responds. “Very, very interesting.”
Chapter 26
“How’s the weather in Orlando?”
“Amazing. Just perfect. We sp
ent yesterday at the Universal Studio theme parks, and today at one of the many, many Disney theme parks out here. Connor loves it. He was absolutely buzzing after the Thunder Mountain roller coaster. The joy on his face brought tears to my eyes, Bill. It was truly magical. When I’m old, gray, and I can’t remember much, that is the moment I want to remember. The smile on his face was… I don’t even know how to describe it.”
Bill smiles broadly. Sitting in his office in the middle of busy Downtown L.A., he imagines Kate on the other side of the country with her eight-year-old son, full of laughter, full of life, full of smiles.
“So you’re moving to Orlando then?” he jokes.
“Honestly, Bill, you could do a different theme park on every weekend of the year and not get bored there. There are just so many! I don’t even know what to do next. We could do SeaWorld or a water park or a nature tour, or even go out to NASA on the Florida coast. This place is mind-blowing. It’s a city built around a playground.”
It is the first time, as a mother, she has felt truly free in years. Without the child-support arguments from her deadbeat ex-husband, without the stress of trying to provide the best for her son, without the pressure of being a full-time working mother, she can be free.
She can smile generously, laugh easily, and finally, be the mother she always wanted to be.
“Why did Mickey Mouse go into outer space?” Bill grins.
“Why?” Kate giggles at the joke.
“Because he wanted to find Pluto.”
“Oh, Bill. That is such a bad joke.” She laughs.
“You’ve got a better Disney joke?”
“Of course I do,” Kate replies. “What did Daisy Duck say when she bought a tube of lipstick?”
“What?” Bill starts to laugh already.
“Just put it on my bill.”
“Ha! That’s as bad as my joke!” He chuckles. “It’s good to see that Florida sunshine hasn’t dampened your sense of humor.”
“Never.” She pauses for a few moments, sighs, and comes back to reality, back to the truth on the other side of the country. “And how are you coping? I’ve been thinking about you.”
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