What She Never Said

by Catharine Riggs

“The old-fashioned way. He changed his name and applied for the position with forged paperwork. We now believe he’s also behind a string of campus thefts that have gone unreported. Stolen drugs, jewelry, and artwork. That kind of thing. The local pawnshop identified him as a regular customer. We’re tracing some of his sales as we speak.”

  “But why wouldn’t the crimes have been reported?”

  “I don’t have an answer for that, but I’m guessing that management wanted to keep their problems to themselves. Wouldn’t look good for potential clients to hear of a high crime rate when they’re set to spend millions on this place.”

  I think about that. “So, you believe Nurse Milo might’ve been killed by an accomplice?”

  He hesitates. “I’m not at liberty to discuss . . . you in any kind of financial trouble, Zach?”

  It takes me a second to get what he’s insinuating. “That’s a ridiculous question.”

  “Is it?”

  “It’s dumb.”

  “Dumb?” He taps his finger against the side of his head. “I never said I was a genius. But here I have two men that lied about being on the scene of a crime.”

  “I didn’t lie about being at the scene.”

  “Correction. Here I have a security guard who lied about who was at the scene of a crime. And this security guard has a history of alcoholism and possible financial problems. And the guy he lies about also has a history of addiction and is facing felony charges of opioid possession and spousal abuse.”

  My hands harden into fists. “This is all bullshit.”

  “Is it? Because in my world—and let’s be clear, it’s one that you once occupied—it begs all sorts of questions, and I think you know it. Now then. It’s time for us to go.” He pulls out a pair of handcuffs, and I almost puke my coffee.

  “Jesus. Are you kidding me?”

  “I’m not. You’re under arrest.”

  “You’re charging me with murder?”

  “No. At this point you’re being charged with making a false statement at the scene of a crime.”

  “Don’t do this.”

  “I have no choice.”

  “At least do me a favor and skip the handcuffs.”

  He stares at me for a moment before returning the handcuffs to his belt. “All right. Now let’s go.”

  “What about Adam? What will happen to him?”

  “He’ll be arrested when he steps on campus.”

  “Today?”

  “You bet.”

  My stomach drops like a stone down a well. “Can’t you give him a break?” I plead. “Arrest me but not Adam.”

  “Get up before I cuff you.”

  I get to my feet, knee rebelling. “Tell me one thing,” I say. “The cameras weren’t working, so who told you we were there?”

  “No one told me.”

  “Then how?”

  “We received photos late yesterday.”

  “Photos? Who from?”

  “No idea. Anonymous package with a half dozen or so.”

  “Maybe they were sent by the real killer.”

  “Right,” he scoffs. “Now get moving before I use the cuffs. I’ll be following close behind.”

  I take a step and almost collapse. My knee doesn’t seem to be working; it’s like the tendons have given out. But I don’t want to look like a total failure, so I do my best to hobble through the main security office.

  Finn gives me the evil eye as I pass close to where he stands. I wonder if he’s gloating. Or plotting. Texting Kai with their next step. His bitch boy Barnet barks something on his phone. He covers the mouthpiece with his hand, and his eyes shift from me to Javier. “Code black,” he says to Finn.

  “Shit,” Finn says. “You kidding me? That’s the third one in two days.”

  “This is different. Someone’s been stabbed.”

  “Stabbed? Who?”

  “Kate Harrington.”

  I whip around. “What?”

  Barnet listens to more on the phone and then sets it down and glares at me. “Seems she’s identified the killer. Written his name in blood.”

  “Whose name?” Javier asks.

  Barnet points at me. “Zach’s.”

  Javier grabs my arm and spins me around. A bolt of fire zaps my leg. “Where were you last night?” he asks.

  “Here,” I reply, pulse racing. “Doing my normal rounds.”

  He sticks his face in mine. I smell onions on his breath. “Were you at or near the victim’s apartment?”

  I clear my throat and swallow. “I don’t think I should answer that.”

  “Then we’ll do this the hard way.” He pulls out a set of handcuffs. “Turn around,” he orders.

  I twist and my knee gives way. I drop to the ground with a groan.

  VII. WRATH

  A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.

  —Proverbs 15:1

  The Angel

  I’ve made the difficult decision to leave, or I suppose the decision’s been made for me. I can no longer operate behind the scenes when suspicion could turn on a dime. So I’m feeling melancholy tonight as my date of departure nears. I pack a box of sacred possessions and then pause to sip on a flute of port. Listen to Albinoni’s sweetest of adagios while I page through a lifetime of precious work.

  I linger on Loretta’s day of torment; on Mary’s frigid years in bed. On Simon’s theft of millions from his corporation, on Milo’s rape of a teenage girl. And the addition of the destitutes? Well, they were an interesting lot. All they needed was a little encouragement, and most jumped at the chance to cross. Eleanor Kingsley was my very favorite, and her secret didn’t fail to impress. In a fit a childish anger, she pushed her sibling down a stairwell the day the girl turned twelve. Her sister spent months living as a near vegetable until she caught a cold and expired. Death by strangulation was my idea. I doubt Eleanor would have agreed.

  Kate harbored a surprising secret; I required her to write it down. How else could I justify assistance to Gordon, a man with a shuttered mind? Seems they weren’t the perfect couple they presented to the world. There was a hit-and-run in Gordon’s past, and his mistress was in the car.

  Kate a deceitful adulteress? I never would’ve guessed. The couple spent their decades together assuaging their collective guilt. Sent money to the wronged family, spread their wealth around like manure. Still, I wouldn’t have given up the pawn if I hadn’t needed to save the queen. But Kate’s death provided the perfect ploy to turn away any threat of suspicion. Now what to do with my final problem? I must wrestle my mind around that.

  My thoughts return to packing. There’s so much I have to do. I will be moving to the city of Catania, a lovely port set on Sicily’s east coast. A humble church has requested my services, and I’m loath to turn it down. It’s a region saturated with sacred history that includes the life of my favorite saint. A young and virtuous noblewoman, Saint Agatha refused the hand of a powerful man. When he ordered her body to be mutilated, Saint Peter intervened. She was then rolled naked upon shards of pottery until she expired in excruciating pain.

  How exquisite her final suffering; how she agonized in the name of her Lord. As a devotee of the loveliest of saints, I plan to seek justice for all who are harmed. Expose the evil of men who hurt women and crucify them in their beds. Solidify my work as my Lord’s avenger and wreak vengeance on the land. But first I must compose my final move. It’s time to close out the game.

  RUTH MOSBY

  One

  Wednesday, October 2

  It’s nearly eleven when I arrive at my office, massaging my still-numb jaw. I had a dentist appointment this morning to replace a long-crumbling crown. I tried to cancel, but the receptionist threatened I’d be charged, and I can’t afford the additional expense. So I went to the appointment, and while the dentist worked, I tried to bring clarity to my thoughts.

  The pastor confirmed what I’ve come to believe: Kai is involved in the destitute deaths. Maybe he’s not the
actual killer, but he could be directing someone that is. Finn? Barnet? A staff member? All possibilities. And Milo? It seems likely his killing is related. But how? And why?

  I need to speak with Zach. See if he was able to gather enough evidence for us to present our case to Detective Ruiz. But this morning he seems to have gone AWOL. He’s not at home, and he’s not answering my texts.

  Where are you, Zach? Please, surface. Of all times to disappear, this is the worst. Are you avoiding me, or did you fall asleep in your car? And please, don’t tell me you’re drinking. That would be the absolute worst. I rev up my computer and scan my emails. Among the dozens in my in-box is one from Kai sent at four a.m. That early-bird message is almost stranger than an AWOL Zach. Since when does Kai climb out of bed before eight? And what would he be doing at his office at that hour? Did he send this, or did someone else? I tap out another text. Call me! Now!

  After opening Kai’s email, I scan the attachment, and my pulse begins to race. This is it, the motive behind his madness. Of course Zach would say it’s not proof of a crime, but isn’t there something called circumstantial evidence? I mean, if all the clues point to Kai, can’t he be charged? That would get Adam off the hook. But who sent the email? Obviously Kai wouldn’t forward it. Did Zach somehow break into his computer? If so, was he caught? I have a sudden, horrible thought. Maybe he’s been murdered too.

  I call Zach for the umpteenth time and once again get sent to his voice mail. “Where are you, Zach?” I nearly yell into the phone. “This is crazy. You need to get in touch.”

  “What’s crazy?”

  I look up to find Kai slouching in the doorway, his face fixed and pale. He saunters to my desk and slides into a guest chair. He’s not wearing his usual jeans and button-down but is clad in sinister black. I scan his face and see evil there. He’s the one. The serial killer. A madman hiding behind an innocent face. I steel my shoulders and finger my phone. One false move, and I’ll call 911.

  “I asked you a question,” he says, his left eye twitching.

  “Private conversation,” I reply.

  “With our employee Zach?” He studies me with a look of such utter hatred it almost feels like a blow to my head. My face grows warm, and sweat drips down my back. Will he use his knife? Can I stop him? How to protect myself?

  “I wanted to speak with him about his hours,” I say, trying to control the trembling in my voice.

  “Work hours?”

  “Yes.” I ease my purse from the floor onto my lap and blindly search through the contents. When I come across Adam’s faux credit card, I slip it into my pocket.

  “Why would you have anything to do with his hours? The guy works for Finn.”

  “Well, yes, but . . .” But what? “Anyway, do you need something? I don’t have much time. I’m off to meet a potential guest.”

  “I’ll walk with you,” he says.

  “No need. I can handle her myself.”

  His gray eyes narrow to slits. “Why don’t we cut the bullshit?”

  I look away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I think you do.” He gets up from his chair and shuts the door. Then he turns to me, arms folded. “Now tell me about you and Zach.”

  I shrug, feigning calm. “Zach Richards? The security guard? Well . . . he works for us.”

  “Come on, I’m not an idiot. I know about you two.”

  I hesitate, my mind fumbling for words. “We’re neighbors; that’s it.” I ease the knife from my pocket and onto my lap and fold it like Adam instructed.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  With the knife in hand, I feel a little less frightened. “Not my problem,” I reply. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”

  He thumps the door with his hand. “If you try to leave here, you’re as good as gone.”

  Good as gone? I hold the knife tight, wondering where best to strike. His neck? His heart? “What do you mean?”

  He makes a sound like he’s choking. “The director of world operations is on her way. She wants to meet with us.”

  “About?”

  “About all the shit that’s been going down. Corporate’s worried about their investment, and I don’t blame them one goddamn bit. A murderer stalking guests at an old folks’ home? Not a great look for our brand.” He throws his head back and laughs. I wonder if he could be drunk, but it’s a little early for that. Maybe he’s crazy. That’s it. He’s a madman. I grip the knife tighter as he continues. “I’m guessing we’ll both be fired,” he says. “But at least I’ll get my two years’ severance, while the only thing you’ll get is a free jail cell.”

  “I don’t understand.” He’s sounding less like a serial killer and more like my loser boss.

  He waves off my words. “What I don’t get is how you could surround yourself with such scum. I mean, you’re OCD when it comes to policy and procedures. Always harping on the rules. And then you hire your druggie son and squash his background check after employing the neighborhood drunk.”

  A warm wave washes over me. “I can explain,” I say.

  “I wouldn’t want you to incriminate yourself, but I’d like to understand. What were they after? I mean, I understand Nurse Milo. That’s just some drug deal gone bad. But old lady Kate?” He shakes his head. “That totally stumps me.”

  “Kate? Kate Harrington?”

  “Who else?”

  My hands turn cold and clammy; my heart hammers in my chest. “What happened to Kate?”

  Kai sighs and rubs his twitching eye. “Look at you playing all innocent. Detective Ruiz may not have arrested you yet, but I’m betting he’ll get there soon.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Really? You want to play that game? All right. Kate Harrington has been murdered, stabbed in the neck.”

  Drums pound in my ears. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Well, it’s true.”

  My world tilts to the left and then to the right. “My God. When?”

  “Early this morning.”

  I reach for my throat, the room spinning. Kate murdered? Impossible. Did Zach go to her villa as we discussed? Is that what this is about?

  “And then your buddy breaks into my computer and forwards you a memo on the destitutes. Do you want to tell me about that?”

  We eye each other like two boxers circling. Something in his manner tells me he’s the killer. He’s just trying to mess with my head. I picture thrusting the knife at his heart. Or his neck. Yes, his neck would be better. “Maybe he was gathering evidence,” I say.

  “Evidence of what?”

  Here goes. “Of your horrific actions towards the destitutes.”

  “My what?”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “I don’t.” Two spots of color bloom on Kai’s pale cheeks. “The only thing I’ve been doing is my job. And unlike you, I’ve been doing it very well.”

  I glance at my computer and scan the memo, gaining strength from its words. “Exactly. And you’ve been helping the destitutes along.”

  He eyes me like I’m crazy. “What’re you talking about? Everything we’ve done is perfectly legal.”

  “Including killing them?”

  “Killing?” His bad eye twitches wildly. He tugs at his bun.

  “Yes. Killing. You’re in debt, and you’ve been killing them off to up your bonus.” I search his face as I say those words, delving for the truth.

  His eyes grow wide. He’s faking innocence, I’m sure. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because it’s true.”

  His mouth drops open. “You think I’ve been murdering the guests?”

  “You or one of your henchmen.”

  “Henchmen? What is that? Something from an old movie?” He throws open the door. “You’re crazy, lady. I’d never go so far as to kill someone for this miserable job. I hate it here. In fact, I’m glad I’m getting fired. It’ll put me out of my misery.” His voice drops to
just above a whisper. “Want to know a secret? I never wanted to be executive director. Never. I only applied so I could wreck your miserable little dream. You’ve been riding my ass ever since I got here. In fact, you’ve been a complete goddamn bitch. If you had gotten the ED job instead of me, you would’ve fired me in ten seconds flat. Right? Am I right? Come on, answer.”

  I don’t answer because, of course, he is right.

  “Thought so. Well, you’ll be happy to know I’m getting out of this place. I’ll be heading north to San Francisco, where I plan to find something, anything, that’s more interesting than this pile-of-shit job.”

  Kai is working hard to throw me off, but I won’t let him. I get to my feet. “You can’t leave before the bodies get exhumed,” I say. “The coroner will need to pinpoint the exact causes of the destitute deaths.”

  He points his finger at me. “There’s only one person that’s been accused of killing, and that’s your good friend, Zach. The police have arrested him for the murder of Kate Harrington.”

  That knocks the breath out of me. “Impossible,” I whisper.

  “Is it? Because before she died, old Kate Harrington wrote Zach’s name on the ground in blood.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You don’t need to believe me. A fact is a fact.”

  “I’ll call Detective Ruiz to confirm.”

  “You do that. But you might not get him right away. I believe he’s busy interrogating the two suspects as we speak.”

  “Two suspects?”

  “Yeah. Two. He also arrested that loser son of yours.”

  My heart skips a beat. “He arrested Adam?”

  He nods. “Happened this morning in the parking lot. Quite a scene. Your kid was crying like a baby. If he hadn’t created such a disturbance, I’d say it was fun to watch.”

  My mind bumbles this way and that, caught in a trap of fear.

  “I suggest you pack up your desk,” Kai says. “No matter which way this goes, neither of us will be working here much longer. You and your entourage have taken care of that. By the way, what’s that in your hand?”

  I glance at the knife peeking through my fingers and slip it into my pocket.