Shadow Play

by Iris Johansen

  “Here and there.” Bonnie’s small face lit up with her brilliant smile. “It’s hard to explain since you haven’t been here. You know that I can’t be with you all the time.”

  “And I accept it.” She paused. “But you scared me the last time you came to me. You said that you might not be able to come to me again. I’m glad you came to your senses.”

  Bonnie chuckled. “And you told me you wouldn’t have it. As if you could do anything about it.”

  “I can be very persuasive. Maybe somebody up there likes me.”

  “Everybody likes you, Mama,” she said gently. “That’s why I got to come to you in the beginning.”

  “Well, there’s no reason why you can’t keep up with the status quo. Why change anything?”

  “It wouldn’t be my choice. And it may not happen. But things are going to change, and I don’t know how that’s going to affect us.”

  “Not at all,” Eve said flatly. “Go tell them that.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Bonnie’s eyes were twinkling. “I’ll do my best. But I haven’t been here long enough to have much influence.”

  “Then tell them that I need you. You told me that the reason they sent you is that they knew I needed you. That hasn’t changed. I was just thinking the other day that I needed you to come and help me understand—”

  “Jenny,” Bonnie said. “You’re having trouble understanding what’s happening to you.”

  “So is she. She’s not like you. You have trouble now and then with blanks. But Jenny doesn’t seem to know anything about who she was or what’s happened to her. At least not the details.”

  “It’s coming back to her. Soon she’ll know everything. I think they wanted a blank slate when she came to you.”

  “Why?”

  Bonnie shook her head.

  “Does that mean you don’t know?”

  “I’m getting glimpses now and then. I don’t know everything.”

  “And you don’t want to tell me.”

  “I always want to tell you everything.” She added gently, “Sometimes I can’t do it.”

  “Then tell me why Jenny. I’ve never before had a reconstruction who actually appeared to me. Why Jenny?”

  “She needs you.”

  “And those other poor children didn’t?”

  She shrugged. “Choice.”

  “You’re being very unsatisfactory. Evidently, you didn’t come to answer questions.” She held up her hand. “And that’s okay. You know that’s not what I need from you, what I want. You’re what’s important. Love is what’s important.”

  Bonnie nodded. “You always knew that, Mama,” she said softly. “From the moment I was born, I knew you would always love me. It’s your special gift.”

  “Not unusual. Most parents love their children.”

  “But not the way you do. You glow with it. And Jenny’s parents didn’t love her. She was cheated of it. Maybe that’s why she was sent to you for help. There’s a certain balance. Not all the time. But sometimes, it’s there for us.”

  “How do you know Jenny’s parents didn’t love her?” She shook her head. “No more questions. I remember Jenny said that she didn’t remember her parents. I’d hope she’d remember them if there was love between them.”

  Bonnie nodded. “Love should always be there.”

  Eve swallowed to ease the tightness of her throat. “It always is for us. And I don’t know why her damn parents wouldn’t love Jenny.”

  “I know you don’t,” Bonnie said. “I told you, that’s why she was sent to you.”

  “To punish that bastard who killed her, to bring her home.”

  Bonnie was silent. “Yes, to bring her home, Mama.”

  “We’ll find a way. Joe is working on it now. And Margaret will be a help.” She paused. “There’s another child involved. Can you help us find her?”

  “Jenny will help you.”

  “I hope so. Jenny’s help seems to be fading in and out.” She leaned back on the bench. “But we’ll work it out. Right now, I don’t want to think about anyone but you. We never have enough time together.” Her gaze enveloped that beloved little figure. “I wanted sunlight when I came here. You are sunlight, Bonnie. The light is reflecting off the water and touching you with a kind of radiance.” She smiled. “Did you arrange that for me?”

  “Sure.” Bonnie grinned. “Why not? Anything for you…”

  * * *

  “You’re looking very serene.” Joe tilted his head as he strolled toward the bench where she was sitting. He glanced around the park. “Found your sunshine?”

  “Yes.” She smiled. “And Bonnie.”

  He went still. “She came to you.”

  “Yes.” She made a face. “Though she wasn’t very informative. I think she came because she sensed how scared I was.”

  “And still are,” he said quietly.

  “She keeps saying things are changing. I want them to stay the same.”

  “No, you don’t. You want the best for everyone you love, and that could mean change.”

  She nodded. “Maybe I just mean that I want to find a way to keep them with me.”

  “You don’t have to search to find a way to keep me with you.” He reached out and gently touched her hair. “I’m not going to wander away to try to find myself like Jane. Or be involved in that final great adventure like Bonnie. Even then, I’d find a way to make them change the rules like you did with Bonnie. You’re stuck with me.”

  “Thank God.” She took his hand and brought it to her cheek. “I said something of the same to Bonnie, and she laughed at me.” She kissed his palm. “But I do think if you want something this badly, there could be some kind of special dispensation.” She tilted her head. “What’s happening with Jenny is … different. Do you suppose that she wanted something so desperately that she was allowed to come back and try again? She thought maybe it was to stop Walsh from killing that little girl.”

  “Why don’t you ask her?”

  “Compared to Jenny, Bonnie is a font of knowledge about the afterlife. Besides, I tried to reach her last night, but I got zilch. She told me that she was fading in and out with both me and Walsh.” She shrugged as she released his hand. “So it’s up to us to work it out for ourselves. What did you find out from the detectives at the precinct?”

  “Not much. They had Walsh under surveillance for nearly two years at the request of Interpol before he moved out of Sacramento. But they came up with nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Eve frowned. “He killed Jenny, and from what she said, he liked it and had done it before. He wouldn’t have just taken a two-year break. Serial killers can’t resist the surge of power they get from the kill, he wouldn’t have been able to resist it.”

  “Unless he isn’t the usual serial killer,” Joe said slowly. “Unless he has an enormous amount of control and the ability to channel and focus.”

  “Focus on what?”

  “The final goal. Maybe he was keeping an eye on Jenny’s grave while he searched for another target. Remember, he stuck around for years near the place where he killed Jenny. You would have thought that he would have moved on and not taken the risk. What was so important that he was willing to do that?”

  “And he wasn’t only a murderer. You told me he was involved in all kinds of ugliness, from thefts to human trafficking. Surely the police picked up on some of those?”

  “Not here in Sacramento. He lived in a palatial apartment on the south side with no obvious source of income. He told his landlord he had private means.”

  “From previous criminal activity, no doubt,” Eve said grimly.

  “It’s one explanation.” He paused. “There are others. Maybe … blackmail … Or it’s possible Walsh was still on someone’s payroll.”

  “Doing what?”

  “We’d have to find out. But he didn’t set up here in Sacramento until after Jenny’s killing. Before that, the last report was that he was working for that cartel in Mexico City. It would b
e logical to assume that his presence here could have something to do with the murder.”

  “No charges brought against him during that entire period?”

  “Nothing significant. A complaint of possible trespassing from the owner of a photography studio. But the charges were dropped when no theft was found to have taken place.”

  “A photography studio?”

  “Memory Lane Studios. It’s a small outfit near Sutter Elementary School.”

  She tensed. “Elementary school? Maybe he wasn’t interested in that photography studio as much as the kids at that school. Was there any report of—”

  Joe was shaking his head. “No. There were no stalkings nor any reported attacks on any of the children.”

  “Then there had to be something he wanted from that studio.” She got to her feet. “Let’s go see if we can find out what it was.”

  He smiled. “I’ve already called Nick Dalkow, who owns the studio, and told him we’d be on our way.”

  CHAPTER

  8

  “I haven’t got much time,” Nick Dalkow said impatiently, as they walked through the door of his shop. “I have to be across town in twenty minutes to photograph a high-school football team.”

  Dalkow didn’t look much more than a high-school student himself, Eve thought. He was small, thin, with wild red hair that was spiked with mousse. He was dressed in jeans and an orange T-shirt. His left earlobe sported a tiny rhinestone earring. “I believe we can meet your schedule. It shouldn’t take long.” She glanced around the studio. A few landscapes, but most of the photos were portraits of children and teenagers. “You do very good work.”

  “You bet I do. But you’re not here to hire me, are you?” He glanced at Joe. “You want to know about that creep who came here and wasted my time.” He scowled. “Just like you’re doing.”

  “You’re talking about Walsh? How did he waste your time?”

  “He came in here and wanted to see examples of my work. He said that he was thinking of opening a studio of his own and might want to hire me part-time. He looked at everything in sight. Then he asked me to pull out examples of past work.” His lips curled. “He was lying. He didn’t know anything about photography.”

  “He didn’t specify anything in particular?” Eve asked.

  “He said he’d heard I specialized in school pictures and that there was good money in it. He wanted to see all of those.”

  “And you showed him?”

  “Some. Then I threw him out.”

  “Why?”

  “I told you, he was a creep.” His lips tightened. “Look, I may not look like what you’d call— I’m my own person. I go my own way. But I take good photos, and those kids are safe with me. I know there are lots of sickos out there, and I didn’t like Walsh’s poring over all those school photos. Particularly the young kids.”

  “And you reported him to the police?”

  “Not then. What grounds? Suspicion? I just threw him out.” He shook his head. “But two days later, I came out of the dark room and found him going through the photos in my file cabinet. That’s when I called the police.” His lips twisted. “I thought that Walsh was going to go for me. Ugly. Real ugly. But then he apologized, said that he didn’t think I’d mind, and walked out. But I still reported him to the cops when they came.” He looked at his wristwatch. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.”

  “One more thing. Which school pictures was Walsh looking at in that cabinet?” Eve asked.

  “Brownroot Elementary.” He shook his head. “I told the cops that was where he was digging. And I kept an eye out to see if there was any fallout from his coming here.”

  “No fallout?”

  “Nope.” He headed for the door. “Come on. You’ll make me late. I have a reputation.”

  And he also had scruples and integrity, Eve thought. She could see why he was able to overcome that bizarre appearance to become popular in his profession. “I wouldn’t think of it.” She moved toward the door. “But we may have to call you if we run across anything on which we need help.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” He was locking the door. “I didn’t like Walsh. I hope you put him away.”

  “So do we,” Joe said. “But first we have to find him. You don’t have any idea where he is?”

  “He said he lived here in Sacramento.” He turned toward his van. “But he showed me a couple of his photos, and they weren’t cityscapes. They were just pretty vineyards and rolling hills.”

  “Vineyards?”

  “Uninteresting, and the composition wasn’t even that good.”

  “Sonderville,” she murmured.

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care.” He jumped in the van. “All that matters is that I protected those kids from him.”

  “Yes, that’s what matters.” Eve watched the van go down the street before she turned to Joe. “I think we need to go back to that precinct and look through those records again. Walsh was obviously interested in locating a child or children in the area. You said that there was no sign that any child at Sutter Elementary had been targeted. But what about Brownroot Elementary? He was looking at those photos when Nick caught him in the act.”

  “And he may not have found what he was looking for.” He took her elbow and propelled her toward their car. “And, if he did, he might not have acted. But we’ll definitely check it out.”

  * * *

  “There’s nothing here,” Joe said in disgust as he shut down the precinct computer two hours later. “The captain was right. No sign of any serial killings or child attacks of any kind in the city during the period that Walsh was here.”

  “No.” Brownroot Elementary had been a complete failure, so they had meticulously gone through the other elementary and private schools in the area. They had found zilch there also. “I’m going to start calling other photographers and see if they had visits from Walsh.”

  Forty-five minutes later, she struck pay dirt.

  She turned back to Joe, excited. “Josiah Tierney Studios. Four weeks after Walsh was almost arrested, he tried again. The Tierney Studios aren’t in the city. They’re in a small town, Milsaro, north of here. Walsh asked Tierney the same thing that he asked Nick. Class pictures. Tierney wasn’t as careful as Nick. He didn’t see any harm in letting him just look at the photos.” She swallowed. “My God, I hope he was right.”

  He reached for his cell phone. “Did he give you the names of the elementary schools in Milsaro?”

  She nodded. “There were only three. McKeller, Davis, and Campbell. I’ll take McKeller.”

  “No, I’ll have to identify myself and maybe tap one of the local law authorities to get the information I need from them. Not everyone in the school systems is as trusting as that ass Tierney.”

  She leaned back in her chair and watched him go into high gear. She didn’t like this. It was driving her crazy not to be busy and help. She wanted desperately to know what mischief Walsh had been up to and was equally frantic to know that he had not been successful.

  That there had not been another Jenny.

  There were lots of them, Jenny had said.

  But maybe in his past, maybe not here in this sunny California town.

  She jumped to her feet. “I’m going to get a cup of coffee. I’ll bring one for you. Call me if you need me.”

  She stood at the coffee machine a long time, sipping black coffee and thinking about Walsh. Nick had thought he was an ordinary pervert, but there was nothing ordinary about him. Why had he been looking at all those photos? Did a certain feature appeal to him when he chose a victim? That could be it. She knew that some killers were drawn to a hair color or the color and shape of the eyes. There was no telling what physical feature might draw them. What had Walsh been looking for when he had taken that second risk after Nick had almost had him arrested?

  “Eve.” Joe was standing in the doorway.

  Her hand tightened on the cup as she saw his expression. “You found one?”

  “Maybe. I can
’t be sure.”

  “What do you mean?” She followed him back to the desk. “Why aren’t you sure?”

  “Because there was the death of a child shortly after Walsh examined those school photos Tierney took.” He pulled up the report on the computer. “An eight-year-old student from McKeller Elementary School three weeks later.” He nodded at the report. “But no foul play was suspected. Donna Prahern drowned in the pond in back of her house early one Saturday morning.”

  “Then it was a coincidence. Poor little girl.”

  “Except that she could swim like a fish, and no one could figure why she’d be walking along the edge of the pond by herself. The consensus was that she’d slipped on the edge of the pond and hit her head on the rocks bordering the water.”

  Her gaze narrowed on his face. “But you have doubts?”

  “You know what a suspicious bastard I am. It was too close to the time that Walsh was doing his search.” He was typing into the computer. “So I decided to check and see if there were any other curious coincidences.” He pulled up another report. “Candace Julard, another eight-year-old girl. Another unfortunate accident. She died of smoke inhalation a month after Donna Prahern’s death, when Candace’s mother’s house caught fire from faulty wiring. Again, no foul play suspected; her mother also died in the fire.”

  “Candace went to the same school?”

  “No, she wasn’t even from the same town. I went a little farther afield to Fillmore, seventy miles south. Candace went to Douglasville Elementary.”

  “But we don’t even know if Walsh made the effort to search for her out there.”

  “No, I haven’t gotten that far yet. But there’s a good chance that he’d hit the local photographer in that town, too.”

  “Why?” She impatiently shook her head. Hadn’t she just been thinking that some serial killers were prone to go after certain physical types? “Walsh went to a hell of a lot of trouble. Definitely not victims of opportunity.”