The alarm stopped and Holt froze at the sudden silence. Then the door swung open and Penny appeared, fingers wrapped around a baseball bat, face frozen in a mask of fear and fury.
She let out a low gasp when she saw him and lowered the bat. “Holt.”
“Are you okay?” he asked. “What set off the alarm?”
“I don’t know. Someone knocked. If he pulled on the door and jarred the sensor, it could have set the alarm off. Maybe trying to get me outside?”
“Possibly. Glad you didn’t open the door.”
She shot him a scowl. “I’m not that dumb. I thought I saw someone out there, so I let the thing ring until you got here. It took me a couple of tries to get it shut off.”
“Did you recognize anyone?”
“I never saw an actual person, just some movement, but I’m guessing it was that snoopy reporter trying to get in. I was going to give him a piece of my mind.” Her phone rang and she gave the password to let the alarm company know they could call off the cops.
Holt glanced around. “All right. Here’s the deal. I need to follow up on a lead that just came in, but I’m not leaving you here alone.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He shook his head. “Come with me.” Technically, he should leave her there, but at the moment, she was a key witness and he needed to protect her. Writing the FD-302 of the upcoming interview was going to be a load of fun, as he’d have to include Penny in the list of those present—which could make her a defense witness. Potentially. The federal prosecutor would have a fit, but at the moment, it couldn’t be helped.
“Why?”
He hesitated. “We’re going to see the man’s wife. Maybe she’ll say something that will trigger your memory or she’ll know what song he was singing.”
“You really think it’s that important?”
He scraped a hand over his head. “I don’t know, to be honest, but I don’t want to discount it and have it be something I should have paid closer attention to.”
Penny nodded, then shrugged. “All right, but don’t you think she’ll recognize me from the news?”
He frowned. “Good point. Do you have a hat and some glasses? And you can leave your hair down.”
“I’ll see what I can find.”
While he waited, he scanned the area. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Had someone been there and been scared off by the alarm? Was it the reporter? Or . . . something else?
But what kind of something else?
He didn’t know. “You’re being paranoid,” he muttered.
“Talking to yourself?” She stepped onto the porch and shut the door behind her.
“Occupational hazard.”
She laughed. “I do it too.” She’d found a dark blue hat and a pair of pink sunglasses that concealed her gray eyes. Her red-tinted hair lay in soft waves around her shoulders and he blinked at the transformation. “You look great.”
“Thanks.” She pulled the cap lower. “Think this will do the trick?”
“Definitely.”
Once she was buckled into the passenger seat, Holt climbed behind the wheel and called Grace. “I’m on the way. Penny’s coming with me.”
“See you there.”
He appreciated she didn’t ask why he would bring Penny. He’d explain his reasoning later. She’d probably agree, might even have some suggestions on how to use the wife to jolt Penny’s memory—assuming the wife didn’t know the name of the song. And while Holt could have left Penny in a safe place, he felt better with her at his side where he could keep a close eye on her.
Twenty minutes later, he pulled to the curb of the small two-story home. It sat on approximately two acres and had two outbuildings in the back. A lawn mower sat rusting off to the side. A pink bike leaned against the front porch pillar, and a baseball glove had been tossed onto a hammock tied between two oak trees.
Penny hung back while Grace rapped on the door. Holt had already made sure the woman was home. She worked various shifts as a nurse for a local twenty-four-hour urgent care facility to supplement the income Joel had been bringing in. But today was Saturday and her day off.
Footsteps sounded from inside and the door opened. A young woman with a toddler on her hip looked up at them with wariness. “Yes?”
Holt and Grace identified themselves as agents and introduced Penny, simply using her first name. No one gave her a label and Mrs. Sally Allen didn’t seem to care.
“FBI agents? What do you want?” she asked.
“We have some bad news,” Holt said.
Dread filled her eyes and she swallowed. “What kind of news?”
“It’s about your husband. Do you mind if we come in?”
She hesitated, then stepped back. “Sure.”
Holt led the way inside to see a young girl sitting on the couch with a book in her lap. She looked up when they entered. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Holt walked over to her and knelt in front of her. “I’m Holt. Who are you?”
“I’m Mary and I’m seven. That’s JoJo.” She pointed to the little boy in his mother’s arms. “He’s two.”
“I’m very happy to meet you. What are you reading?”
“Charlotte’s Web.”
“Wow. That’s pretty advanced for a seven-year-old, isn’t it?”
Mary giggled. “That’s because I’m advanced, right, Mama?”
“You sure are, kiddo,” her mother said.
“This one’s a library book,” Mary said. “I left my book at my friend Dee’s house, and Mama said there was no way she was buying me another copy.”
The woman huffed. “Mary—”
“Well, you did.”
Sally’s face tightened, but her lips curved in a slight smile. “You’re right, I did, but we don’t have to tell everything we know.”
“Dee said—”
“Mary, hush. We can talk about that later. Take your book and your brother into your room and play, okay, sweetie?” She set JoJo on the floor and he ran over to Mary to take her hand.
The little girl sighed. “Come on, JoJo. The big people want to talk and don’t want us to hear.”
Holt turned to Sally. “Smart kid you’ve got there.”
“Too smart.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “What about Joel?”
“Could we sit down?”
She gestured to the couch little Mary had just vacated. Once they were all seated, she looked at Holt. “You’re scaring me. What is it?”
“I’m sorry to tell you that Joel . . . died the day before yesterday.”
She blinked, then gaped. “What? Died? Joel’s dead? Wha—How? Two days ago?”
“We’ve only learned his identity. As soon as we found out who he was, we came to tell you.” Holt leaned forward and clasped his hands together between his knees. “Mrs. Allen, didn’t you think it odd when Joel didn’t come home for the last two nights?”
“No. Not at all.” She stood and paced from one end of the room to the other. “We’re in the process of separating. Sometimes he stays elsewhere. And before you ask, I don’t know where he stays. I don’t care, as long as it’s not here.” She hesitated. “But he’s a good father—when he chooses to be—and I let him see the children whenever he asks to. Or I did.”
Well, that explained a lot. Especially the lack of tears. But her shock at hearing of her husband’s death had been real enough. “Ma’am, have you seen the news of the man killed on the mountain?”
“Yes, I believe I heard something about it.” She gave a short laugh. “I don’t watch a lot of television, and when it’s on, it’s usually on PAW Patrol or Peppa Pig.”
“Understandable. I hate to say this, but the man who was killed on the mountain was your husband. He impersonated a nurse at the hospital and helped the serial killer, Darius Rabor, escape.”
Her eyes widened, and for a moment she seemed to be at a loss for words. She sank back into her chair, then sucked in an audible breath. “But . . . but that’s . . . that’s .
. . No, it can’t be.”
“I’m sorry.”
She sat frozen for a moment, staring at him like she expected him to say “Just kidding” or something.
“Is there anyone we can call for you?” he finally asked.
Sally rubbed her eyes. “Um, no. I . . . no.”
Holt caught Grace’s eye, and she gave a slight shrug, then leaned forward. “Sally, do you mind if we ask you some questions?”
“I guess.”
“Have you heard of a man by the name of Darius Rabor?”
“You just said he was a serial killer, but yes, I remember the news stories about him a couple of years ago, maybe a documentary or something one night.” She paused. “Actually, I think Joel watched it a few times. But other than that . . .” She spread her hands, indicating that was all she knew.
Holt studied her. “Do you know what he looks like?”
She let out a low, humorless laugh. “No. I mean, I probably saw his face on the news, but if I ran into him at the grocery store, I wouldn’t know him. Why?”
“Your husband had a lot of plastic surgery done. Do you know why?”
She let out a huff and shook her head. “That was one of our big issues. He wasn’t happy with his appearance and was spending truckloads of money on the surgeries.”
“Where did he get the money?”
Sally sighed. “He was left a lot by his grandfather. Instead of saving it, like we agreed when we found out he would be getting it, he spent it hand over fist on plastic surgery, of all things!” Her chest heaved with her agitated breaths. She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, it just infuriates me that I was struggling to put food on the table for my children and he—” She waved a hand. “Never mind. I’m sure you get the idea.”
“Yes, and I’m sorry.”
“I told him to leave.” A sob slipped out and she pressed her fingers to her lips. “I don’t know what happened,” she whispered. “He wasn’t like this ten years ago. At least I didn’t see it if he was, but in the last three or four years, he’s become someone I don’t know. Someone I don’t like or even love anymore.”
“It’s always tragic when someone in a marriage changes,” Grace said. “Not just himself, but his priorities. Especially if both agreed to a previous plan.”
“Yes,” Sally said, “exactly.”
“One more question,” Grace said. “Did your husband have a favorite song or something that you might hear him humming under his breath occasionally?”
“No. Not that I can remember. He liked oldies. Show tunes, television theme songs, that kind of thing, but I can’t remember him saying he had a favorite.”
Well, that was a bust. He glanced at Penny and she was staring at her hands, but she was listening, taking in every word. Her shoulders were stiff, her breathing slow and measured, tension in every line of her body.
Holt focused on Sally. “Do you know why he decided to do the plastic surgery?”
She shook her head. “He said he needed it to feel better about himself. To finally look like he was destined to look. Just a bunch of garbage that didn’t make much sense to me. I thought it was all ridiculous and didn’t hesitate to tell him so.”
Holt held up his phone and turned it so she could see the screen that displayed two pictures. “The one on the right is your husband. The one on the left is Darius Rabor.”
Sally gasped. Stared. Her eyes flicked from one photo to the other while the color drained from her cheeks. “What in the world? You’re kidding me. He was turning himself into Rabor’s twin? But . . . why?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out.”
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Penny kept replaying the scene on the mountain in her head. Over and over. She’d tripped Rabor—or rather, Allen—he’d stumbled back and fallen, the knife plunging straight into his heart. She knew if she hadn’t acted, Holt would have been seriously injured or killed.
She knew that.
And was completely grateful that Holt and she were alive and well. She just wished she hadn’t been the one to precipitate Allen’s death. That it hadn’t had to end that way.
But . . . everyone had choices. Joel Allen had made his and died because of them. Period. She really needed to keep that at the forefront of her mind.
“Can you think of anything else that might help us figure out why Joel was so obsessed with Rabor?”
Grace’s question snapped Penny from her thoughts.
Sally shook her head. “I can’t. When he started doing the surgeries, at first it was, ‘I don’t like my nose. I’m going to have it fixed.’ Then it was, ‘My eyelids and brows need lifting. It will help me see.’ And so on. I watched our money dwindle and confronted him. It enraged him. He screamed it was his money and to stay out of his business. I was so angry, but he was becoming more and more . . . scary. It frightened me to the point that I felt like I needed him to leave.”
“What about the children?”
“He’d never hurt them.” She rubbed her eyes. “He practically worshiped them. Thought they could do no wrong. Even when they were screaming their heads off, all he would say is, ‘That’s what children do.’”
“And yet, you were scared for yourself.”
“I was . . . and I wasn’t. I know that’s confusing, but Joel’s father killed his mother when he was young. It haunted him. He was very firm in his belief that children needed their mother. So, truthfully, I really didn’t think he’d go so far as to kill me, but I found myself unable to sleep worrying about if he would snap. He might not plan in advance or deliberately cause my death, but what if, in his anger, he . . .”
“Did something he’d regret?”
She nodded. “And . . . I couldn’t handle the stress he was putting on our finances.” She swallowed and looked out the window for a moment. “The day I came home and realized we had no money to pay the power bill and no money for groceries and my children were hungry, I lost it. Screamed at him to get out. We fought and I could tell he didn’t think I was serious. But when I started throwing things at him and tossing his clothes out the door, he figured it out pretty quick. I think it stunned him. He quit fighting and left. As soon as he was gone, I asked a neighbor to babysit, opened a checking account in my name only, and changed the locks on the house.” She lifted her chin. “I let him see the kids because I had no way to legally keep him from them, but I never left him alone with them.”
“How did he react to your desire to separate?”
“At first he was livid, declaring he’d sue me for custody of the children. I promised him he could see the children any time he wanted.”
“And he believed you?”
She drew in a shuddering breath. “I don’t think so. Not at first, but that night, he found another place to stay. He was gone for three days and I didn’t hear a word from him. Then he showed up out of the blue, saying he wanted to see the kids. I knew he was testing me, so I didn’t hesitate. I stepped back and told him to come in.” A small smile curved her lips. “I think I actually managed to surprise him.”
“How did that visit go?”
“It went fine.” She shrugged. “He was almost like the man I’d married. Laughing and joking with the kids. Patient and kind with me.”
“Did you rethink your decision to separate?” Holt asked.
“For a brief moment,” Sally said. “When he left, I went and wrote down exactly why I was doing what I was doing and to remind myself who he’d become. And I checked the balance in our account. Still hovering around zero. So, that thought quickly passed.”
Good for her.
“Mommy?” The little voice came from Mary, who stood at the door.
“What, baby?”
“I’m thirsty. JoJo fell asleep, but his diaper leaked again. I cleaned it up the best I could, but it still stinks.”
She wrinkled her nose and Sally jumped to her feet. “Excuse me just a few minutes, please?”
“Of course.”
&nbs
p; She left and Penny met Holt’s eyes. “Nothing’s triggering anything for me, sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“There’s a stack of old vinyl records over there,” Grace said, pointing. “Why don’t you go through them real quick and see if any of them strike a chord for you.” She paused. “No pun intended.”
A smile lifted Penny’s lips. “Funny.” But it was a good idea. She padded over to the stack and picked up the one on top. “Hoagy Carmichael’s ‘Georgia on My Mind.’” She moved to the next one. “Ben Selvin, ‘When It’s Springtime in the Rockies.’ Every Elvis album imaginable.”
“He listened to them each night after the kids were in bed,” Sally said, returning to her spot on the couch. “Sometimes, we’d dance.” She rubbed her eyes. “Is there anything else?”
While Penny continued to peruse the records, she still kept one ear open to the conversation.
“I wanted to ask,” Holt said, “can you tell us where you think he might have been staying when he wasn’t here?”
“I . . . can’t say for sure, but I suspect he was parking his car out of sight somewhere and staying in one of the outbuildings.”
Penny set the record down and turned in time to see Sally’s gaze slide to the window. Penny let hers do the same and she could see the two buildings. One in each corner of the wooden back fence.
“What makes you say that?” Grace asked.
She shrugged. “Just a feeling.”
“You didn’t look?”
Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “About three months ago, I . . . started to go see what was out there. I wanted to know what he was doing when he would spend hours and hours out there. I went and knocked on the door and asked if I could come in. He grabbed my throat”—her hands went to the base of her neck and her eyes took on a faraway glaze—“and he squeezed so hard I almost lost consciousness. He finally stopped and made me promise never to invade his privacy, that he would consider it a gross betrayal. And”—she pulled in a deep breath—“and that he would know if I entered.”
“Cameras?” Holt asked.
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