by Kelly Irvin
“Wait, let me go with you.” She scurried across the grass to Cole’s front yard. Justin had one hand on the wrought-iron railing that led to the long, narrow porch attached to the Victorian-style home. “He knows me. I can help. He wants me in there.”
He didn’t know her. Death brought people closer together and more quickly.
Justin’s expression didn’t just say no, it said, “No way, José.”
Alisha shrugged. “She’s already given her statement. If they needed to get their stories straight, they did it before we got here.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“What we need right now is a break.” Alisha’s hand went to the doorbell. “He’s asked for Teagan to be present. If that helps him relax, maybe he’ll remember more details.”
“What details? You’re assuming he saw—”
“Okay, okay.” Justin made a cease-and-desist motion. He reached past his partner and rapped on the door. “Let’s see what the man has to say.”
30
Cole answered so quickly he might have been standing inside the door listening. His face gave no clue. In one hand he held an etched crystal glass filled halfway with an amber liquid. He’d changed into tan Dockers and a dark-blue polo shirt, but his face remained haggard.
Justin identified himself, as well as Alisha. “A little early to hit the sauce isn’t it?”
Cole looked beyond the two detectives to Teagan. “Will they let you come in?”
“They say yes.”
“Then, by all means, come in.” He opened the door wider and everyone trooped inside.
“Can I get you some coffee or tea? I know it’s hot out there, but I can’t seem to get warm.”
Justin shook his head. “Nothing for me.”
“I was talking to the ladies.” Despite his words, Cole didn’t sound distressed. His gaze, directed at Justin, was assessing. “No matter the circumstances, I try to be a gentleman.”
“Good for you.” Alisha’s conciliatory tone warmed the icy air that hung between Cole and Justin. “If we could ask you a few questions, it would be helpful.”
“Absolutely.” He waved his free hand at the living room. “I’ll bring in the coffee.”
He disappeared into the interior of the house without waiting for an answer. Teagan sank onto a floral chintz-covered sofa and surveyed her surroundings. Anything not to think about Julie’s body now on its way to the morgue.
A carved mahogany fireplace mantel matched the bay windows, which provided natural lighting for the floor-to-ceiling built-in bookshelves. The remaining walls had been covered with soft red roses on creamy beige wallpaper that met the chair railings about halfway down. Elaborate crown molding decorated the ceilings.
“Good grief.” Justin shifted on one of the button-back chairs on the other side of the sofa. “Talk about froufrou.”
“It takes a certain kind of man to appreciate the Victorian era.” Teagan stood and went to the bookshelves. Art history, architecture, DIY manuals, communications textbooks, and scores of American classics. Moldy oldies. If he watched TV, he didn’t do it in this room. His taste in art tended toward still life, portraits, flowers, bowls of fruit, and gardens à la hotel room décor. Cole’s home—at least this room—also lacked something. At first Teagan couldn’t put her finger on it. She ran her gaze over the room again.
He hadn’t displayed a single family photo. In fact, nothing felt personal about the room.
“If you want to borrow something, feel free.” His voice floated behind her. “I’ve been so busy renovating room by room, I still have books to unpack. Not that I’ll have anything that suits your taste.”
That was it. He still had boxes to unpack. Teagan turned. He carried an ornate silver tray with a carafe and coffee service for four. “Thank you and thanks for the coffee.”
“We need to know exactly what you saw. From the beginning.” Despite his earlier denial, Justin accepted the cup Cole offered him. “Why were you outside at that hour?”
“Do you want cream or sugar?” Cole directed his inquiry to Alisha.
“I’m good.”
He saved Teagan for last. His smile was ragged. “How about you?”
“Both. My stomach is ripped.”
He prepared it for her with grace from a different era.
Justin cleared his throat. “Mr. Reynolds—”
“Cole.”
“We don’t have time to mess around. A woman was killed across the street.”
“I’m aware. I’m traumatized for life.”
“Then get on with it.”
“I went for a run—at least I intended to go for a run—about five forty-five this morning and—”
“Do you always run that early?”
Cole’s pained expression reflected his thoughts on Justin’s manners. “No. I was supposed to give finals today. I’m an instructor at SAC. Speech, beginning communications for freshmen.”
“You locked your door, you ran down the steps, and then what happened?”
“I crossed the street. I planned to head south to the Mission Reach trails for a nice, long run.”
“And?”
“And Huck started growling. He never growls. He’s a very calm, well-mannered hound unless provoked, in which case you don’t want to get on his bad side.” The dog, who had followed his owner into the room, raised his head from his spot near the fireplace and woofed. “Yes, I’m talking about you, my friend. Anyway, I hesitated. I slowed down. I could see something shining in the solar light by the library, so I crossed over and approached.”
He stared into his coffee cup.
“Take your time, Cole.” Teagan had traveled this painful road with Officer Moreno’s death. “Believe me, I understand how hard this is. You don’t see murder victims on a regular basis—or at all—like these guys do. I’m in shock, too, and I’ve seen many crime scene photos.”
“Thank you.” Cole sipped his coffee. He moved a coaster closer and set the cup on the coffee table. “Her dress shimmered in the light. At first I thought maybe she had fallen down. Maybe she was drunk. But Huck continued to growl. He became more and more distraught. I got closer. I realized she’d been stabbed. Numerous times.”
Huck whined. He stood and meandered over to his owner and lowered himself gracefully on the sixteenth- or seventeenth-century Persian rug at his owner’s feet. “I knelt and touched her neck. Only her neck. She was still warm, but she had no pulse. I know you’re not supposed to touch anything at a crime scene. I’ve watched enough TV to know that. But I had to—”
“It’s okay.” Alisha assured him. “Then what?”
“I stood and ran to Teagan’s door.”
“Where you should’ve stayed until police arrived.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve never been first on a murder scene before.”
“Did you see or hear anything out of the ordinary or out of place before you discovered the body?” Alisha shot Justin a look, as if to say, Ease up, bud. “Cars, people, anything?”
Cole rose and went to the bay window, where he stopped, his back to them. After a second, he turned around. “Now that you mention it, I did see a white SUV or maybe it was a minivan. I don’t know. I’m not a car person. It drove through just as I was locking my door. I glanced up because the engine sputtered.”
“In front of your house?”
“Having just passed this house, going toward Alamo Street. I hadn’t seen it around before, and it was so early in the morning. It’s not like this is a through street that people who don’t live here normally use.”
“We’ll need your clothes.” Justin grimaced at a spot somewhere between Cole and Teagan. “All y’all’s clothes. And we’ll need you to come downtown to give your formal statements.”
“Again.” Teagan stopped. It had to be done. She understood that. Another day spent reliving murder and mayhem in her own neighborhood. “Fine, let’s go.”
“I’ll gather up my clothes.” Cole hung back
. “Do you want them in a bag?”
“That’s fine.” Alisha’s hand went to her hip where her service weapon hung. “I’ll wait for them.”
With an encouraging nod to Cole, Teagan headed for the door. Outside the media had gathered along with the same neighborhood residents. From the ramped-up look on Brian Lake’s face, they had been exchanging information. “Is it true that the victim worked in the 177th?” he hollered from the tight pack of reporters and photographers. “Is it true she was stabbed multiple times and left at your library, Teagan?”
“We are in the process of notifying the victim’s family, so please bear with us.” Justin spoke up. “I’d hate for them to find out by turning on the TV.”
“So that’s a confirmation.”
A murmur ran through the members of the media. “Is it true it’s the same killer who murdered your neighbor Evelyn Conklin?” the skinny little reporter from KSAT 12 yelled. Her name escaped Teagan’s discombobulated brain. “And Officer Moreno? She was shot, the other two stabbed. And another woman was strangled. Does San Antonio have a serial killer on its hands?”
“Where’s the chief when you need him?” Alisha muttered to Teagan.
“PIO is setting up a press conference outside the Public Safety HQ in one hour,” Justin responded. “I suggest y’all get over there and get set up.”
The stampede started before he finished the second sentence.
“Did you just make that up?”
“No!” He winced as if hurt by Teagan’s suggestion. “I got a text from the civilian PIO. Let’s head over there. Hopefully I can take you in the back side and avoid the presser.”
“Stop. Wait.” Billy raced across the street. A Mazda pickup narrowly avoided smashing into him. The driver offered him a one-finger salute and a few choice words through his open window. Billy didn’t slow. “Jazz called. She can’t find Leyla.”
31
Sweet, independent, stubborn Leyla was missing. She could already be dead.
Nausea rocked Teagan. She halted. Took two steps. Stopped. Max grabbed her arm. “Easy, easy. She probably spent the night at a friend’s house.”
“Dillon told her to stay put in no uncertain terms.” Billy drew a ragged breath. “She’s such a little—”
“Don’t say it. She’s a grown woman who believes she has a right to a life.” Teagan broke free from Max’s grip. “I’m going to look for her.”
“No, you’re not.” Billy blocked her path. “I’m sure she took her Glock. And we’ve got people out searching for her right now.”
“When we find her, I’m going to kill her.” Teagan grappled with tears she refused to let fall. Leyla was a free spirit in a by-the-book family. She lived in never-never land. “Then I’ll lock her in her room for life.”
“You’ll have to wait in line.” Billy’s hand went to the gun on his hip. “And hope she doesn’t have her Glock on her.”
Cole whistled. “She carries a gun?”
He and Alisha were a few short steps behind. Alisha had his bag of clothing in one hand.
“My little sister isn’t to be trifled with.” Teagan breathed through the nausea. “She used to engage in competitive shooting. Unfortunately, at her age that means she thinks she’s invincible.”
“I have a sister. She’s older. But she has always been self-assured.”
“I’m going.”
“No, you’re not.” Justin joined Billy in the roadblock. “You’re in police custody. You have to go to HQ to give a statement. Remember?”
“You’re kidding me!”
“I kid you not.”
“We’re not suspects, are we?”
“No, but if you give me any more guff, I can call you a person of interest and slap cuffs on you.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Max cut in. “We have rights. Maybe I should call my lawyer.”
“Whoa, we’re all on the same team.” Dad jogged over in time to hear Max’s comment. “Let’s keep the focus on Leyla.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do, Dad.” Teagan squeezed between Billy and Justin to confront the elder O’Rourke. “I know all of Leyla’s old haunts. Her friends’ names from high school.”
“She’s not with them.”
“How do you know?”
“They found a letter in her Mini Cooper.” Dad proceeded to read the text of the letter from his phone.
The Mini Cooper. Leave it to Leyla to buy the smallest car to zip in and out of traffic on I-35S, which she shared with innumerable monster trucks and semis.
“Did they find anything else?” To her chagrin, a bit of quiver surfaced in Teagan’s voice. She demanded that it stop. “In the car, I mean, besides the letter.”
“A sign of a struggle, yes. Her paperwork was scattered around on the front seat. Some snacks. Junk.” Dad’s gaze sought hers. “No blood.”
Thank You, Jesus, thank You. “Can we read the letter, please?”
Dear T,
You didn’t move fast enough, my dear.
I’ve grown impatient.
I plan to dance the night away
With your sweet stepsister.
You can still save her.
Do you tango? Or do you prefer the two-step?
Plaster my nom de plume you’ve created for me all over the media.
Tell my story for me.
I’ll be in touch with further instructions.
Your friend,
Lloyd Carmichael
Lloyd Carmichael. One of Raymond Fuentes’s standout bad guys. A paid assassin who appeared in more than one novel as an antagonist Jay Southerland couldn’t catch. Until it got personal.
“In Pay to Play Carmichael becomes Jay Southerland’s nemesis. He threatens some of the most important people in Southerland’s life, and he has to protect them. I can’t say more without spoiling the outcome.”
“Even for Leyla.”
“If I think it’s applicable, believe me, I’ll tell anyone who will listen.”
“I’ve got civilian employees reading them,” Justin said. “You’ve read them over time. The details run into each other. This way if there’s any clue in the names he’s choosing that helps us, we’ll know.”
Smart guy. Using all those little gray cells Hercule Poirot loved so much. “He has his gross, horrible hands on my sister.” Teagan walked away. It gave her time to swipe at her cheeks and get her game face in place. She turned back. “It’s killing me to think what that means.”
Billy dug his hands into his suit pants pockets. “We’re on it, Sissy. Chief has opened the gates to give us more manpower. There’s a BOLO out for a white minivan spotted in this neighborhood—”
“Because that narrows it down so much.”
“In a way it does. Most people are driving SUVs now. The old mommy van is passé.” Alisha cut in. At their raised eyebrows, she shrugged. “I have friends with little kids. The SUVs are way cooler. When you see a minivan, it’s older and more road weary, so to speak.”
“Okay. That’s something.” Billy didn’t look convinced. “Teagan, your front porch camera doesn’t reach to the library. You need to get that fixed. But in the meantime, we’ve got nobody who saw anything before Cole Reynolds. So we’re proceeding with the plan to take him downtown for a formal interview. He’s already contacted a wet-behind-the-ears lawyer he knew in school. We’ll need you, too, and Max.”
“I’m happy to go downtown, but the statement will have to wait.” Teagan squeezed between Alisha and Billy, headed for her car. “I have another pot to stir while I’m at HQ.”
“What pot . . . ?” Billy grabbed for her and swiped air. “Teagan, no, no, you can’t.”
“Watch me.”
32
This guy wanted publicity. Teagan would give him publicity.
“This is nuts.” Billy slapped both hands on his hips and stood, legs spread. Every muscle tight. His gaze, directed at Dad, blazed with a volatile mixture of anger, fear, and surprise. “You’re not going
along with this, are you?”
“We will be on top of her every second of every minute.”
“Julie was a crack shot with a license to carry. She had a Glock semiautomatic 9mm pistol in her bag.” Justin sided with Billy, of course. BFFs to the bitter end. “The guy stabbed her to death before she could pull the gun from her purse.”
“I won’t have to defend myself, because it’ll never come to that.” Teagan eased toward the windows in the foyer of the SAPD HQ building with all its fancy accoutrements designed to make it pleasing to the eye. Like putting lipstick on a donkey’s patootie. “I’m making a statement.”
“Max, are you on board with this?” Billy’s effort to shore up his side continued. “She’s turning herself into bait.”
“He’s already done that.” Discomfort drew lines deep into Max’s battered face with its bruises fading from vivid purple to milder greens and yellows. “However, I’ve been shouted down twice. It’s a stupid plan.”
“It’ll work.” Teagan gripped his hand and squeezed, trying to will her assurances into him. “I know it will. Just believe in me.”
“I’ll never stop believing in you. I’ll pray every step of the way for every word. And for a good outcome.”
Prayer, their first and last weapon of choice. Max could keep these things in perspective in a way she could not. “Could we pray now?”
“We really don’t have time—”
Billy’s quick response was cut off by Dad. “Absolutely.”
Her father held out his hand. A little miracle in the midst of such devastation. They joined hands and bowed their heads. Max began. “God, please don’t let him hurt Leyla. Don’t let him scar and destroy her sweet spirit. Inoculate her against his evil. Don’t let him touch her heart and soul. Give her body strength to withstand whatever physical punishment he tries to inflict. Put Your bubble of protection around her, we pray. Give her strength and allow her to use that wonderful brain You gave her to find a way out. Help these men and women to find her quickly through Your saving grace, in Jesus’s holy and precious name we pray.”
