by Cynthia Eden
The foster mother had immediately hung up on her. That was why the call had been brief.
Chloe had called a second time. Told the woman she wasn’t interested in any illegal payments that the foster mother had received while pretending to “care” for a missing girl. Chloe had just asked when the woman had last seen Portia. What Portia had been wearing at the time.
The foster mother hadn’t remembered the exact date. She did remember, though, that Portia had left early because she liked to get in her runs before school. She’d been wearing jogging shorts. A t-shirt. Red running shoes. Red had been Portia’s favorite color.
With that info, it had been easy to map out the most likely places that Portia would have used for her morning runs. After she’d done that, Chloe had called in a favor. Gotten the cadaver dog and—
“Cujo says this is the spot.”
The German shepherd wasn’t straining against his leash or doing anything dramatic like you’d see on a TV show. He’d simply run through the parks, one after the other. He’d sniffed the ground. He’d hunted.
When he found the right spot, Cujo stopped. Sat. Waited like a good boy.
“Cujo?” Joel queried from beside her.
Cedric nodded and waved toward the dog’s handler. “Mickey here is a bit of a Stephen King fan.”
Chloe stared at the ground beneath Cujo. “You need to get an entire crew out here, Cedric.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” He put his hands on his hips. “You’re seriously telling me that some poor girl has been under the ground for ten years?”
“The vegetation is denser beneath Cujo. The grass thicker in that area. The earth likes the nutrients.”
Cedric gaped at her. “Do not tell me more. I don’t like to hear that stuff.” He pointed at Mickey. “Your dog is sure?”
Cujo whined. Pawed once at the ground.
“Dead certain,” Mickey assured him.
***
Radar was brought in. It showed the body. Or, what was left of the body. The retrieval process was slow. Painstaking. The crime scene techs didn’t want to destroy even one bit of evidence. Chloe watched them from a distance.
Joel stayed at her side.
He hadn’t said much during the long hours, and she understood. This…this was one of the parts she hated, too. And for Joel, seeing a body unearthed had to be a reminder of his own hell.
One of the techs yelled out, “We’ve got her!”
Chloe found herself moving closer to Joel. Her hand reached for his. “Every bit of evidence we find brings us closer. We’ll stop the man who did this.”
He looked at her hand. Curled his fingers around hers. Slowly raised his head. “Damn straight we will.”
She had to swallow as she stared into his eyes. This whole arrangement with Joel was so different from what she’d expected. With every moment that they spent together, she felt as if he was truly getting to know her. Looking past the surface. Just as she was doing with him. She liked who Joel was beneath his surface. There was so much more to him than met the eye.
“Chloe!” Cedric’s deep voice rang out. “You’re gonna want to see this!”
She released a quick breath, nodded, but didn’t let go of Joel. “You don’t need to come with me.” She was afraid for him to get too close. “I know this is a nightmare scene for you.” A grave. He’d been buried alive, and now he was watching a young victim being uncovered. “You can stay over here, or if you’d like, you can even go back home. I can catch a taxi ride.”
“Where you go, I go.” Grim. Determined.
That was Joel. Determined to his core. She squeezed his hand. If they were doing this together, there was no way she’d let go of him. She wanted him to know that she would be there for him, every single moment.
They slipped under the yellow crime scene tape and darted under the lights that had been set up. When they neared the uncovered remains, Chloe made sure to stand a safe distance back. No contamination.
“Check out the jacket,” Cedric directed.
She could see the victim’s lower body. The running shoes that had been uncovered. Red shoes. She forced her gaze up and realized…a jacket had been placed over the victim’s face and chest. Not just any jacket, though. “That’s a letterman jacket.”
“That’s a letterman jacket for the Pirates,” Cedric corrected as he crouched near the victim. “The kind of jacket that a football player would wear.”
“He covered her face.” A sign of remorse? Most psychologists would say so. But…it could also be that the perp had covered her face because…
He doesn’t want her to see what he did. He doesn’t want her looking at him.
“How does she fit into the Bad Deeds case?” Joel asked.
“I think she started it all.” A crime from years ago had led to multiple murders now.
A black SUV rushed to the scene. The brakes squealed. A moment later, the driver’s side door was thrown open.
“Great. Here we go.” Cedric rose to his full height. “Someone finally dragged his head out of his ass and joined the party.”
Paul Richardson jumped out of the vehicle. “Get them away from there!”
She glanced heavenward. “You’re welcome,” she told the agent. “Don’t worry, Richardson. I assure you that Cedric, Joel, Mickey, Cujo, and I were all happy to assist you in finding this murder victim.”
“Get away from there!”
Hmm. His response didn’t sound like a thank you.
She stepped back. Reluctantly. Joel moved in unison with her. Just as reluctantly.
Richardson spared a fast glance for the uncovered grave before he turned his back on the vic. “Two dead bodies, today, huh? Guess you’re rolling high.”
“Two?” Chloe repeated. What was he talking about? They’d only uncovered one dead body.
“This vic…and Judith Key. Two dead bodies.” When Richardson made that stark announcement, he stared straight at Joel.
“Judith isn’t dead,” Joel snapped back. “I saved her. Get your facts straight. She’s in the hospital. She’s stable. She was doing just fine when I—”
“She died thirty minutes ago. That means you did not save her.”
Pain. Chloe saw it flash on Joel’s face. He took one fast step back, and his retreat made her heart ache. She knew how much he’d wanted Judith to survive. How hard he’d worked to save her.
“That’s not possible,” he said, his confusion clear. “I…her vitals were good. She was in recovery.”
“She didn’t recover. She died. And you know what, Joel? I think this is a good time for you to come down to the station with me.”
“How is this possibly a good time for that?” Chloe asked.
At the same time, Joel barked, “Why the hell would I come to the station with you?”
Richardson appeared smug. Never a good sign.
“No.” Chloe shook her head even as dread settled around her. “Joel doesn’t have to go to the station with you.”
Richardson sent her a sideways glance. “Sure, he doesn’t have to do it. I’m not arresting him…yet.”
“Arresting me?” Joel laughed, a rough and humorless sound. “Damn straight you’re not.”
“But if Joel doesn’t come to the station—willingly—it will look suspicious, and I’ll have to write that in my files.”
She didn’t like where this was going.
“Chloe can tell you,” Richardson added, all oily smooth, “if you cooperate, it goes better for you. You come down to the station, you answer my questions, and hey, maybe it ends right there. Maybe you set me straight.”
Joel looked at Chloe. “What’s happening here?”
She was still holding his hand. An open grave waited a few feet away—his worst nightmare. She knew that Richardson had picked this moment, this spot, deliberately. He’d wanted to hit Joel when he thought the other man was weak.
Your mistake. He’s not weak.
What was happening? Easy. “Richard
son is trying to rattle you. He somehow has it in his mind that you might be a suspect in this case.”
Once more, Joel laughed.
Chloe didn’t.
Neither did Richardson.
Joel’s head swung back toward the agent. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? Then come with me to the station. Answer my questions. Show me how ridiculous it truly is…”
“I’m not a killer!” Joel snarled.
Richardson glanced back at the grave. “Are you sure? Because I believe you once killed a man, at a scene much like this one.”
Joel pulled his hand from Chloe’s hold and lunged for Richardson.
Chloe grabbed his back and held on tight. “Don’t.” She pressed her body to his. “Don’t let him get in your head.”
“Oh, I don’t have to do that.” Even his voice had turned smug. “Dr. Gordon Jennings has already done that.”
Joel stiffened.
No, no, no.
“He’s waiting down at the station, Joel,” Richardson added. “He had so very much to say about you. He was quite concerned when I told him what was happening down here. He insisted on flying in from Dallas.”
Lie. She’d bet that Richardson had been the one to arrange the man’s flight.
“Dr. Jennings thinks that you’re a dangerous man. After talking with him, do you know what I realized?”
Chloe eased her hold on Joel. Moved to his side. “You realized that everyone in the world is more competent than you are?”
He shot her a dirty glare. “No.”
“Oh. It’s okay. One day, you’ll realize it. Keep trying. Never give up.”
His lips thinned. “You fit my profile,” Richardson told Joel. “Remember that wonderful profile I delivered to the NOPD? It fits you to a T.”
She squeezed Joel’s arm. “Remember what I told you about his profile.” That it was utter bullshit. “I stand by my words. Mean them now more than ever, I assure you.”
Richardson plowed on even as Cedric closed in, frowning. Richardson said, “We are looking for a very intelligent killer. There is no doubt, Doctor Landry, that you are highly intelligent. We are looking for an individual who stalked his prey and waited for the perfect moment to strike because this man saw himself as an instrument of vengeance. This man thought he was delivering justice.” Richardson waved toward the open grave. “Odd, isn’t it? That we find this victim buried in a grave…much like the grave you were buried in?”
“The killer was hiding her body,” Chloe retorted. “Nothing odd about that. Predictable. Typical. You hide a body by burying it.”
Richardson raked her with his stare. “You’re good, but you’re not this good. You didn’t just wake up today and randomly find this body.”
“There’s nothing random about anything I do.”
“Joel led you to this body, didn’t he?”
“No,” she shot back. “He—”
“Explain it all to me at the station,” Richardson ordered. He pointed at Joel. “Come willingly now or not so willingly later, Dr. Landry.”
Joel didn’t speak. Chloe was still holding tightly to his arm.
After a tense moment, Joel swallowed. Glanced her way. “I remember what you said about his profile.”
She nodded.
“You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” Joel’s voice was low.
But she knew Richardson heard him. Richardson was so close, he’d have to hear.
“I remember what you said, too, Chloe,” Joel told her. His expression was far too somber. “You warned me not to let what he was saying get in my head. You warned me because you knew his profile fit me. I didn’t realize it back then, but I get it now.”
“You aren’t the killer we’re after. I know that.” Her heart was racing. “And you need to remember what else I said. In case you forgot, let me say it again. Loud and clear.” But she looked at Richardson when she delivered her next words. Looked him dead in the eyes and said, “That man knows nothing about killers.”
Richardson glared at her.
“I’ll go to the station,” Joel agreed. “Because you’re right, Chloe, he doesn’t know a damn thing, at least not about me.”
“Because you’re not a typical killer?” Richardson demanded.
Joel began to reply—
“Don’t worry. I’ve already figured that out.” Richardson brushed past Joel. “Nothing typical about the way you kill. Most people don’t paralyze their victims. But since you’re a doctor, you knew just where to strike, didn’t you?” He paused. “Hmm.” He half-turned and studied the grave. “If she’s really tied to this case, think we’re gonna find her with a messed-up spine, too?”
“C1 to C4,” Joel gritted out. “Those were the injured—”
“Yes, I know. And the fact that you figured that stuff out so quickly on your visit to the ME? Sure makes you look extra guilty to me. After all, it’s easy to find the pattern in the kills…if you’re the one doing the killing.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Chloe doesn’t need to be in the room.” Richardson waved dismissively toward her. “I asked you to come down to the station, Joel. I didn’t ask Chloe for a meet and greet.” He raised his brows. “Or is she somehow magically a lawyer, too? Did I miss that part on her resume?”
Joel turned his head toward Chloe. She was seated right beside him while Richardson had taken up a spot on the other side of the table. Consideringly, Joel told her, “I totally get why you dislike him.”
Chloe nodded. “He does make it easy, doesn’t he?”
Richardson cleared his throat. “So that’s how it’s gonna be? You two are gonna work this partner bullshit and try to cut me out? Hate to break it to you, but that’s not happening.”
Joel’s heart drummed fast in his chest. He couldn’t believe he was actually in interrogation—or that Richardson suspected him of murder. Trying to keep his voice flat and calm he said, “Chloe is here because I want her to be with me. As for a lawyer, I don’t need one. I’m not guilty of anything.”
“I happen to think you are,” Richardson returned. “And I’m not the only one.”
“Oh, really?” How the hell is this happening? “Then why don’t you stop playing games and tell me who else thinks that I’m somehow the killer that Chloe and I have been working so hard to catch.”
Richardson smiled at him. Joel hated the agent’s smile.
“A witness has come forward.”
From the corner of his eye, Joel saw Chloe tense.
“This witness says you were in the alley with Donnie Adams. The witness saw you swinging a baseball bat at him. And you know what? When we went to your apartment, guess what we found hidden in the back of your closet?”
Bam. Bam. Bam. Joel’s heartbeat suddenly seemed to be beating so hard he felt as if his whole chest had to be shaking. “Bullshit.” His immediate response.
“No. I’m afraid it’s quite true. The bat is being run for prints and evidence collection as we speak. I can assure you—”
“I can assure you…” Chloe cut in with a voice that sounded completely steady. Almost bored. “Joel’s prints will not be found on that baseball bat. The true killer planted that bat in his apartment, probably after Joel moved out. It would certainly have been easy enough to do. Child’s play. Joel’s neighbor—when Joel lived at that location, by the way, because that is his former address—his neighbor spent most of his nights chugging beers until he passed out. His wife died two years ago, and the poor man hasn’t been the same since.”
How did she—no. Joel wasn’t even going down that road.
“The perp knew that Joel had moved. So he thought it would be easy to stash that baseball bat in Joel’s former home. He thought—”
“There was blood on the bat.” Richardson drummed his fingers on the table. “Did I forget to mention that part sooner? Whoops.”
“You didn’t forget,” Chloe assured him. “You were just being a dick.”
She sa
id it so easily. So properly in that accent of hers. Joel almost smiled.
Then he remembered he was in freaking interrogation and that the agent thought he was a killer. Smiling felt very wrong.
“Wonder if the blood on that bat will belong to poor Judith Key?” Richardson’s lips pulled down in a sad frown. “I heard you rammed the bat into the back of her head before you stabbed her.”
“I didn’t!” Joel’s hands fisted on top of the table. “Look, I tried to save her—”
“Tried and failed.”
“I—”
Chloe curled her hand over one of his fists. Immediately, Joel took a breath. A deep, slow breath.
“Oh, Agent Richardson, even a man as dense as you should see that this is a setup. A bat in an empty apartment. Woo.” Again, Chloe sounded bored. “I’m disappointed that you had Joel come down for this. We just found a body, after all. If you’d given us a few more hours, we probably would have gotten your killer for you, too. What a waste of time and energy.”
Richardson had his attention locked on Joel. “I’ve got my killer. Like I said, it wasn’t just the bat. It was the witness.”
“Who is the witness?” Joel demanded.
“You want a name? Why? So you can go out and slam a baseball bat into—”
“I want a name because I want to know who is lying about me.” Chloe’s hand was still wrapped around his. Just her touch was helping him to stay focused. To breathe.
Chloe was there. They were going to figure this mess out.
I didn’t kill Donnie Adams.
“It’s not a lie if it’s the truth,” Richardson fired back.
“It’s. A. Lie.” From Chloe. Clipped.
“And how do you know that?” Now Richardson turned his head toward her. “How do you know that this witness—who swears that Joel was the one swinging the bat at Donnie Adams—is not telling the truth?”
Joel glanced at her. Chloe’s profile was perfectly smooth. Expressionless.
“That’s what I thought,” Richardson said. He nodded. “That’s what I—”
“Joel couldn’t have been in that alley. Because that night…”
The night before Joel had met Chloe at the bank… Shit. I don’t have an alibi for that night. He’d just realized…I was running around the city. Jogging aimlessly because the apartment was closing in on me. I ran and ran and can’t even remember all the streets I took. I can’t—