by L. T. Ryan
I gave him a nod and mulled over what he’d said. Maybe I wasn’t giving Cervantes enough of a chance. Perhaps this was why Cervantes was so on edge with me. Maybe he was like that with everyone these days. Overworked and underpaid rarely made for a content worker. Throw a stranger into the mix on a high-profile case, and fireworks could erupt.
Pennington unzipped a leather binder and continued. “Not like we need him for this right here. Our dear Cassie is the star of the show for now.”
“Coffee, Detective?” she said.
“I already drank two pots today. Any more and I’ll be running naked through the Squares at two a.m.”
“Make sure it’s not the one in front of my rental.”
Pennington chuckled. “You can guarantee it will be.” His demeanor changed as he set the binder on the table.
Cassie remained by the counter. Her gaze drifted from the detective to the folder Pennington had pulled from his binder. It contained pictures. Not of crime scenes, but of men. Which men, I wondered. A random sampling, some with connections to the four women who lived at the house, possible suspects, and a few unconnected, just to test her?
“Cassie,” Pennington said. “You ready for this?”
Chapter Eighteen
Cassie bit her bottom lip, looking more vulnerable than at any time in the past. That included earlier today when she lay passed out in front of the house. She glanced up at me. I tried to offer a reassuring smile. She glanced away.
“Not to rush you,” Pennington said, “but there’s a woman out there, hopefully still alive. The sooner you help us narrow down suspects, the sooner we can get her back to her family.”
Cassie extended a hand, palm facing us, to silence him. “No pressure,” she whispered.
“My bad.” Pennington leaned forward, turned the folder and shifted it in front of the empty seat.
Cassie pulled out a chair and slid into it. I caught another distracting whiff of her hair. She opened the folder and spent ten seconds staring at the first photo. In all, it looked like there were a dozen, give or take. Without a word, she flipped the picture over and set it to the side. Over the next two minutes, she moved through six more pictures, her eyes locked on those of the potential suspects. They were homogeneous in nature, those men. White guys. Closely cropped hair. Scraggly stubble on their jaws. Looked like young punks to me. Every year it seemed I said that more and more, though. If I had to guess, these were all connected to the women by romantic relationships.
The next picture seemed to pique her interest more than the previous ones. The guy was older, with dark, receding hair. His forehead was wrinkled. Looked like a career criminal to me, thrown in to throw her off.
“Something about this guy,” Cassie said. “I don’t think it has anything to do with this case, but there’s something there.”
Pennington scrawled something into his notebook as Cassie moved through two more pictures, giving them the same scrutiny as the others.
Then on the second to last, her expression changed and the color left her cheeks.
“What is it?” I asked.
“This guy,” she said, tapping her finger on his forehead. “I saw him while we were at the house.”
“What’d you see?” Pennington asked.
“His face.” She waved her fingers in front of her. “It was just there, and it wasn’t a positive feeling.”
Pennington set his pen down. “Did you ever get a glimpse of the murder?”
“Not in the way you think. And certainly not with a face attached. I saw him—” Cassie lifted the photo “—when I went to Alice’s room.”
Pennington leaned toward the picture. I presumed he was taking note of the serial number as he scribbled something into his notebook.
“Who is he?” Cassie asked.
“Alice’s boyfriend,” Pennington said. “Ex or estranged, possibly.”
“So you think there’s a motive here?” I said.
“To hurt Alice?” he said. “Maybe. To kill the others, I’m not so sure.”
“Already questioned him?”
Pennington nodded.
“And you think he knows something?”
“I think he’s hiding something.” Pennington dropped his pencil and wrapped his hands around the back of his head. “He was very apprehensive, sweating like a damn pig. Contradicted himself seven or eight times. Had no alibi for the night of the murder, other than he’d hunkered down in his apartment due to the storm. No one could vouch for that, of course.”
“Sometimes no one can,” I said.
Pennington lifted an eyebrow. “Suppose so. Anyway, he remains a person of interest.”
“You got any others?”
He stopped short of saying yes. “Look, Tanner, I’m fine with you coming along and helping out. You might spot something we missed, or put two and two together when we’re banging our heads trying to solve one plus three. But at some point, I gotta cut you out. And I think that point is when we start talking about additional suspects. I don’t want to taint the investigation, and I don’t want to put ideas into Cassie’s head. That’s by her request, as I’m sure you know, having worked with her in the past.”
All valid points. Hell, I wouldn’t have allowed him this far into an investigation. I wished he hadn’t brought me along, though. I felt invested now, and that’s a bitch of a problem.
“You need to talk to him again,” Cassie said. “There’s a question you need to ask.”
“What?” Pennington said.
Cassie tilted her head back until her neck rested on the chair. Her hair hung in thick strands, past the seat. She whispered something as she reached out and placed her palm over the face in the picture.
“Where were you?” she said almost imperceptibly. “You weren’t in your apartment. Where were you?”
I glanced over at Pennington. He looked as confused as I felt.
The moment ended with Cassie leaning forward again. “He couldn’t have been at his apartment.”
“Why not?” Pennington said.
“He’d rented it out for the week,” she said.
“Where was he staying?”
“Makes sense he would have been staying with his girlfriend, right?” I said.
“Only they were broken up, or on a break, something like that. Things weren’t on an even keel, as he put it.”
“All right,” I said. “So where, then?”
We both stared at Cassie, waiting for her to deliver the answer. She shrugged. “Got me, guys. You’ll have to question him again to get to the bottom of that.”
“Okay,” Pennington said. “We’ll locate him asap and hit him with this. Any way you think we can verify that?”
“The internet.” I spun my cell phone. “Plenty of home sharing sites out there for people who don’t like staying at hotels. In some cases, people rent out the place they live in, able to secure their mortgage payment in exchange for a week on someone else’s couch.”
“Good point, Tanner. I’ll jump on that, too.” He grabbed the photo and set it to the side. “What about the last photo?”
It was another older guy. He looked a lot like the first one. Judging by the look on Cassie’s face, she seemed to think so, too. I glanced at Pennington in time to see him craning forward a bit. His fingers danced on the table. His gaze darted between the picture and Cassie. He was definitely waiting for confirmation on something.
She turned over the stack of discarded photos and rifled through them until she found the other picture. Side by side, there was no doubt the two men were related in some way.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“You tell me,” Pennington said.
“Kind of like the first one, he’s got some baggage, but I can’t see how it’s related to this.”
“Fair enough.” Pennington rose and shrugged his coat on. “If anything else pops into your head, you let me know.”
Cassie stood and started toward the hallway. “I want to go back to the
house tomorrow.”
“I’ll arrange it.” Pennington gathered his things and tucked them into the binder. “I can see myself out.”
I followed Pennington to the door to see if there was anything he had to get off his chest, but didn’t want to say around Cassie. He never looked back. What was the deal with the two older men?
When I returned to the kitchen, Cassie remained in the same seat. She stared through narrowed eyes at the table where the photos had been.
“What’s up?”
She didn’t look up at me. “Maybe there is something there.”
“Where?”
“With those two men. The older ones. Looked like brothers.”
“You think you’ve seen them before?”
“Anything’s possible, Mitch.” She wiped the edge of her hand across the table as though sweeping the images away. “I could’ve run into them at a gas station once or twice. It’s not so much the way they look, as it is a feeling.” She paused for a deep breath. The air whistled as she exhaled. “I can’t really explain it.” She looked up and smiled. “Why am I telling you that? You already know.”
“I think I’m gonna get going. I’ve gotta digest all this, and I’m sure you do, too.”
“You coming along tomorrow?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” I squeezed her shoulder as I passed. “And hopefully your detective friends don’t mind.”
“I’ll tell them I’m done if they give you trouble. Seems to be working so far.”
“That it does.”
Chapter Nineteen
He stacked the dishes next to the sink without rinsing them. Truth be told, only one needed to be cleaned off. His. The bitch didn’t bother to eat any of the pizza he’d picked up for them. He even went so far as to light candles and let her out of her cell. She just sat there after the shackles were removed. It took the threat of a knife in her stomach to get her to look at him.
Some guests were that rude.
Had he erred in keeping Alice alive? The confidence that brimmed in her the night of the storm was a distant memory now. She put up less of a fight than a perch. The only wounds on him were those that came from him punching the wall in frustration. He looked down at the dark yellow skin on his knuckles. Next time he’d make sure to miss the stud.
Perhaps a drink would help. He grabbed a bottle of wine and two red solo cups. The cap twisted off with ease. He tossed it into the sink. There’d be no need for it again. The two of them could down the bottle easily. She’d be dying of thirst. He’d intentionally withheld water from her all day.
He blew out two of the candles, dimming the room further. Shadows danced about. Always the gentleman, he rapped on her cell door and waited. A few seconds passed without a response. “I’ve brought something special for you, Alice.”
Her apprehension bled through the crack beneath the door. He wished he could suck the air out of the room to lift her from her bed quicker. In fact, why hadn’t she moved? It was her first free time without the shackles. Surely she’d be itching to stretch her legs.
He took a few steps back. His hands carrying the cups and wine lowered to his side. What had he left in the room? Normally nothing was available they could use as weapons. But had he made a mistake this time? Was she forcing his hand, inviting him in to get close to her, and then WHAM! She’d smack him across the head with a tire iron.
He laughed at the thought and told himself, “Don’t let your mind get the better of you.” He filled each cup halfway, set the bottle on the table and went back to Alice’s door. There was no point using his manners again. He pushed the door open and entered.
She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, arms wrapped over her bare breasts.
“You see, I didn’t even have to unlock it, Alice. All this time, you could have come out. Now, I know you were having a rude moment. I’m willing to overlook that if you’ll share in a glass of wine with me.”
She glanced at the red solo cup he held toward her.
“I know, I know. It’s not really a glass.” He pushed his lips out and glanced upward. A silly face meant to disarm her a little. “I can’t trust you with one of those yet. Do you know what you can do with a wine glass once you break the bottom off the stem?”
She scooted back, tucking her legs under.
“No, of course you don’t. You’re sweet, Alice. Not full of malice.” He chuckled softly. “Here, take this chalice. Together we can storm the palace.” He set the cup on the floor in front of her and waited to see if she’d pick it up. “There’s nothing mixed in there or anything like that. I don’t play those games. If I want something, I’ll take it. I don’t need to drug you first.”
She closed her eyes and lowered her chin to her chest.
“Suit yourself.” He exited the room to grab the wine bottle, then returned. She hadn’t moved. He squatted in front of her and poured another splash in his glass. Swirling the liquid, he stuck his nose in the opening and inhaled. “It really is a nice Merlot. You should try it.”
She pulled back from his touch as he reached for her chin.
“Now, now,” he said, smoothing her hair. She had nowhere to go. They both knew it. He downed his wine in a single gulp. He reached for her chin again. This time she didn’t resist. Her head tilted back, lips in full view. He leaned in and kissed her. The wine was on his lips and tongue. She’d taste it. Oh yes, she’d get a nice mouthful. He did all the work, of course. Might as well have stuck a dead fish tail in his mouth. He pulled back and smiled at her. “Was that so bad?”
He took her non-response as an approval.
“I’m going to retire for the evening, but first, I’m leaving you with something.”
She flinched as he reached out to set his cup next to hers. Then he emptied the bottle into both cups, rose, and left Alice alone with the alcohol. Maybe it’d chill her out. Convince her to trust him a little.
Then again, maybe not.
He really didn’t care.
Chapter Twenty
The outside light didn’t reach my bedroom, making it impossible to figure out what time it was without looking at my cell phone. And that was a death sentence to sleep. The moment the screen lit up, my mind would start racing in a hundred ways. I’d either slept through my alarm, or it wasn’t even six in the morning yet. I tried to resign myself that I didn’t care. Two minutes later I grabbed my phone. 5:20 a.m. Close enough. I showered, dressed, and managed to escape the house before the old lady knew I was up.
The sunrise was vibrant this morning with thin wispy clouds providing a textured canvas for the colors to play with. I stood next to my car and watched for a few moments, enjoying the cool morning air. It wouldn’t last, that’s for sure. By ten in the morning it’d be close to ninety if today was anything like yesterday.
Cassie and I had agreed to meet at a diner close to her place for breakfast. I almost slammed my forehead into the glass entry door when I saw Pennington and Cervantes sitting at the table. Cervantes noticed me first. He flashed a cocky grin, like he knew something I didn’t. My stomach churned. Anything could’ve happened overnight. Pennington didn’t alleviate any concerns when he broke off eye contact a second or two after making it.
I navigated the crowded diner, dodging old women and young waitresses. The air was laden with syrup, coffee, and floral perfume that was twenty years past its expiration date.
“Nice to see you, Tanner,” Cervantes said. “Now get the hell outta here.”
“The hell you talking about?” I said.
“You heard me,” he said. “You need me to escort you?”
“Cerv, chill out.” Pennington gestured to the empty seat at the table. “Sit for a second, Tanner.”
For a second, huh? I glanced around the room. “I think I’m fine standing. Where’s Cassie?”
“Not here,” Pennington said. “Look, Cerv here got our boss involved and he doesn’t want you coming along anymore.”
My old friend rage dropped by for a visit. I kept hi
m waiting on the porch within shouting distance. “Then Cassie’s not gonna help you. Simple as that.”
“You really that much of an asshole?” Cervantes said.
Knock-knock-knock.
Pennington extended his arm out in front of his partner. “She’ll help, Tanner. She might say she doesn’t want to, but she will. It’s in her blood now. She can’t refuse even if she wanted to.”
“You bastards can arrest me then, ‘cause where she goes, I go as far as this case is concerned. I’m here on her behalf, at her request, acting in a private capacity. Now, does one of you want to tell your chief to piss off, or should I?”
Pennington leaned back, fingertips scratching the stubble on his chin. I could tell he still didn’t have a good read on me. Cervantes grinned as his hand traveled to his belt, about where he’d keep his cuffs. Maybe they were going to arrest me. Well, let them. Wouldn’t be the first time I spent a night on the wrong side of the bars.
“I’m gonna ask again, where’s Cassie?”
Neither man responded. Pennington glanced toward the door. A quick movement, not intended for me to see. I spun around and saw Cassie pulling the door open. She walked up to me shaking her head.
“I’m sorry, Mitch.”
“Don’t be,” I said. “If they want to arrest me, they can. I’ll sue the whole city over it.”
“Won’t be necessary,” she said.
“Why’s that?”
“I spoke with their boss. You’re not going anywhere. Definitely not to jail.”
I didn’t have to look back to know Cervantes was pissed. What went through his mind at this point was anyone’s guess. I figured he was devising a plan to get me into the woods and accidentally shoot me. Could be weeks, maybe even months, before anyone found my corpse if he picked the right spot.