Death Notice

by Lolli Powell

  “I have to see her.”

  “God, Jen, don’t do that to yourself!” Will pulled back to look into her eyes, his own mirroring the horror she was feeling. “Al and Lonnie will be over there by now. There’s no need for you to put yourself through that.”

  “I have to see her. I want to see her. I’m still assigned to the cases, aren’t I?”

  “I’m sure you are.” Will looked troubled, but he must have seen something in her expression that told him there was no point in arguing. “Okay. If you insist, I’ll take you over there. I’ll give Don a call at the scene, and he can let the others know we’re coming.”

  He slid off the couch to a standing position and helped her to her feet. She hesitated for a moment, her hand on his arm.

  “It’s just something I have to do. Can you understand that?”

  They were standing just inches apart, his troubled blue eyes boring into her green ones, as if he were searching her soul for an explanation.

  “Yeah,” he said finally. “I guess I can.”

  She took a quick shower, barely feeling the sharp cold spray, and dressed in a light gray pantsuit and white knit top. Lipstick was the only concession she made to makeup, and she didn’t bother drying her hair. It would have to dry on its own today.

  They drove to Trish’s house in silence. Neighbors had gathered across the street from the scene, and three news vans were parked two houses down, the crews setting up equipment for their broadcasts. Several marked and unmarked units and the coroner’s wagon were parked directly in front of the house. Jen saw Don Hawkins and Nola squatted near some bushes at the edge of the property, examining the ground.

  A yellow “Police Line—Do Not Cross” ribbon had been strung across the front yard. Jen saw Hank Jackson, Bill Meyers, and Gene Pence making sure no one disobeyed the ribbon. They’d had to face this madness twice already, and they had thought that was bad. Now the horror had truly hit home because now it was one of their own.

  Hank was standing near the front door. He reached out and squeezed her hand. His eyes were red. Jen looked away, feeling her own starting to sting.

  “Hang in there, babe,” he muttered, and she nodded.

  Inside she saw signs of a struggle in the foyer. A brass candlestick lay on the floor, and the hall table was sitting askew. O’Neill was taking pictures of both, and Jen knew both the table and the candlestick would be tagged and collected for evidence when he was done.

  Lonnie and Al were standing just inside the door to the living room, talking in hushed voices. Lonnie was dabbing at his eyes with his handkerchief. They looked up as Will and Jen approached, and Al took her in his arms.

  “I’m glad you’re all right.” His voice broke.

  She nodded, not trusting her voice. She’d thought she had herself under control till she saw the anguish in the eyes of these normally tough men.

  “We’ll get him, Jen,” Al whispered in her ear. “We have to.”

  She pulled away and looked at him. Tears glistened in his eyes, but his face was set and hard. The unforgivable had been done. A police officer had been killed, and that was bad enough. But the police officer had been a woman, and she had died a horrible death. That made it worse to these men. Jen knew Al would not rest until the killer was found, and if at all possible, killed. The same feeling was in the heart of every officer present. The only difference was that Al would act on the feeling whether the killer resisted arrest or not.

  She started toward the bedroom, and Lonnie tried to stop her. He hadn’t spoken since she had entered the house nor did he now. He simply took her by the shoulder. She shook her head and moved on into the bedroom.

  Follett and his two assistants were huddled over the body on the bed like a pack of benign vultures. When they saw her, Dr. Follett and Madeline averted their eyes and moved away. Larry Adams straightened and stood his ground, his eyes locking on hers. She was shocked to see what looked very much like triumph there, as if he were gloating. Then he looked away and stepped back.

  Jen stared hard at him, remembering Trish’s words of the night before. Trish had thought him weird. There was little doubt in Jen’s mind that Trish had been right on the money on that call. But just how weird? Weird enough to do this and then show up to pick up the pieces and maybe obscure the evidence?

  She took a deep breath and turned away from Adams. There would be time enough for him later. Now she stepped forward and looked at what was left of a friend. She stood for a long time, simply looking, memorizing every detail. Will stayed beside her, his hand resting lightly on her arm, as if afraid she might collapse. She knew she wasn’t going to, but it was comforting to know he was there if she did.

  She looked until she was through, then turned and moved away, her eyes dry. Before she left the bedroom, she looked at Larry Adams again. He stood with his head bowed, an expression of sadness on his face, but she knew it was a lie.

  In the living room, she asked Lonnie if she and Will were needed to help out.

  “No, you go ahead.” Lonnie shook his head. “We’ll take care of everything.” He looked at Will. “Stay with her, okay?”

  The crowd outside had grown, the news having spread that a policewoman had been killed. Jen saw fear on the faces of the women in the crowd and on the faces of their men. They had been frightened before, but now they were terrified, knowing that if the faceless horror could get to a cop, he could get to anybody. The first line of defense had been penetrated.

  “Where to?” Will asked after he had started the car.

  “The building, of course. We’ve got work to do.”

  “Jen, you don’t have to go in today.” He turned to her. “I heard about the hit-skip last night. That was bad enough, but now you’ve had a hell of a shock on top of that. There’s no sense pushing yourself. Let me take you home. We’ll just rest and talk if you feel like it.”

  “Will,” Jen said, tamping down her irritation at his babying. “I’m a police officer, remember? I’m assigned to these cases. I am not going to freak out on you. Trish was my friend, but she was a friend to everybody on this department. Would you suggest that every officer go home and rest when something hits too close to home? Who’d mind the store if we did that?”

  “Okay, I’m sorry.” Will looked confused and a little hurt. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

  “I know.” Jen took his hand. “And I appreciate it. I needed you to hold me back at the apartment when I first heard the news. It was too much to handle alone, and I’m glad you were there. But I’ll be okay now if I can just work. I couldn’t stand just sitting back doing nothing, especially not now, not with Trish lying in there.”

  “Okay, I guess I can understand that.”

  They had driven a couple of blocks in silence when Jen thought of something.

  “I need to stop by Brandon’s school. I’m afraid he might hear the news and think something happened to me after he left.”

  She directed Will to Kennedy Middle School. He waited in the car while Jen went inside and asked to speak to the assistant principal, Leda McIntosh. Leda was in her late fifties and had been Jen’s high school history teacher in both her sophomore and junior years.

  Leda paled when Jen told her what had happened.

  “Oh, Jennifer, thank God you’re all right!” Leda’s hand went to her throat, a feminine, old-fashioned habit of hers when she was upset. Leda had always seemed to Jen to be of an earlier generation than she actually was, a throwback to a time of gentler manners. “Of course, you’ll want to talk to Brandon. I’ll get him. Good heavens, Jennifer, I wish you’d get out of that filthy business!”

  And that’s another thing, Jen thought, that makes Leda seem to be of an earlier generation. She seemed to come from a time of gender stereotypes, and women carrying a badge and a gun didn’t fit with her personal world picture. She and Ada had a lot in common even though they were decades apart in age.

  “It wouldn’t make the ug
liness go away, Leda. It wouldn’t even protect me from it.”

  “I know, I know. I just don’t like it. You have a good mind, and you’re fouling it with the garbage of this world. I just don’t understand why.”

  Leda turned without giving Jen a chance to answer. Jen took a seat on a straight-back chair, listening to the drone of teachers’ voices in the distance and smelling the familiar school smells of chalk and new books. She felt peaceful and safe, the way she had when Will held her at the apartment while she cried. After a while, she began to feel drowsy. Her eyes were just starting to shut when she heard the click of two sets of heels coming down the hall toward her.

  “Mom, what is it? Is something wrong?”

  She took Brandon into Leda’s office and told him. He knew Trish from having met her at the department, and he had once told Jen how pretty he thought Trish was and how she looked like Wonder Woman except for being blonde. Now Wonder Woman was dead, and Brandon was scared.

  “He must have seen you last night, too.” Tears welled in his eyes, but he blinked them away. “He could have killed you.”

  “No, honey, no, I don’t think so.” Jen smoothed back a loose strand of his hair. “First of all, we can’t be positive that he followed us. He may have been waiting for Trish when she got home. But even if he did follow us and saw me, he wouldn’t come after me because you’re there. All of his victims have lived alone, and I’ve got you.”

  “I’m never leaving you alone!” He thrust his chin out, a determined look on his face even though his eyes showed he was still frightened. “I’ll tell Matt I’m not going to the lake this weekend.”

  “I don’t want you to do that.” Jen hugged him hard. Lately, he’d been pulling away when she hugged him, embarrassed that she was treating him like a child, but this time he clung to her, and she had to be the one to break the embrace. “I want you to go with your friend and have a good time.”

  “But, Mom…”

  “Honey, those other women lived alone all the time, not just for one night or one weekend. I think he looks for someone who’s alone all the time.”

  Brandon didn’t look convinced. Then he appeared to have an idea.

  “Maybe you could ask Will to stay with you,” he said. “That way you wouldn’t be by yourself.”

  Not a bad idea, Jen thought, feeling herself start to blush.

  “You like him, don’t you?” she said.

  “I sure do. It’s about time you started seeing a real man.”

  “What?” Jen couldn’t believe her ears. Her thirteen-year-old son had just made father noises at her.

  “He’s a real man,” Brandon insisted. “Not like some of those other turkeys you’ve gone out with.”

  She smiled at his earnest expression while thinking how right he was.

  “I’m glad you like Will,” she said. “Maybe I will ask him to do guard duty while you’re gone. Not that I need it, understand?”

  He nodded, grinning, but he looked relieved. She stayed with him a little longer until she was sure he was okay. When she went outside, Will was leaning against the passenger side of the car. He opened the door for her.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Okay. Thank God he hadn’t heard anything yet.”

  Will got in the driver’s side. Jen waited until he’d started the car and pulled into traffic.

  “My son is quite taken with you,” she said.

  Will glanced at her, smiling. “Is that right?”

  She nodded. “In his words, you’re a real man.”

  Will laughed, obviously pleased at the compliment.

  “He’s going to the lake tonight with one of his friends and his family. He’ll be gone all weekend.” Jen took a deep breath. “He suggested that I ask you to stay with me to keep me safe.”

  “Brandon comes up with some great ideas.” The corners of Will’s mouth curled up in that maddeningly sexy way of his that Jen found so appealing. “What did you think of his suggestion?”

  For a second or two, Jen didn’t say anything. Then she smiled.

  “I think it’s the best idea I’ve heard in a long time.”

  Will looked at her, his eyes filled with happiness and desire. Then he looked back at the road, still smiling.

  “So do I,” he said. “So do I.”

  Jen settled back against the seat, the anticipation of the weekend ahead tempering the misery and horror she felt over Trish. Deep down, she knew she’d been leading up to this decision about Will even before her friend’s death, but seeing Trish’s battered body this morning had finalized it. Life was so incredibly fragile. She, of all people, should know that. Instead, she’d been denying herself happiness and pleasure, worrying too much about the future and ignoring the possibilities of the present, as if she would live forever.

  No more. She looked over at the handsome man beside her and vowed that she would deny herself no more.

  CHAPTER 33

  Jen wasn’t surprised to see the number of officers standing in the halls and loitering in the offices. It appeared almost every off-duty officer had come to the building after hearing the news. Their faces were grim, and more than one—male and female—appeared to have been crying. She recognized several who had been working the midnight relief shift the night before. It would be a good idea to talk to them. Maybe they had noticed something while patrolling. Police officers were notoriously nosy about what their fellow officers were doing; maybe that curiosity would pay off with a lead.

  Jamie stopped her in the detective section. Her face was pale, and her eyes red.

  “Oh, Jen.” Her voice broke. “I feel so responsible. If I had gone with you last night, none of this would have happened.”

  “You don’t know that.” Jen hugged her friend. “It’s likely that Trish was marked by him long before last night. Otherwise, how would he know she lived alone?”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Yes, I do,” Jen said, meaning it. “There was evidence that he was hiding in the bushes when she got home, and he attacked her in the foyer. He may have followed us last night, but if he did, I think it was because he was already following Trish. If she hadn’t been with me, he would probably have broken in on her during the night like he did the others.”

  Behind them, Jamie’s phone began to ring. She wiped her eyes and smiled halfheartedly at Jen.

  “Maybe we can talk later?”

  Jen nodded and turned away. Will led her to the detectives’ conference room. He poured them each a cup of coffee and flopped into a chair.

  “Any ideas?” he said.

  “Maybe. Can you get the Bureau to do extensive background checks on some of the guys we’ve come across? I don’t mean just the usual paper trail. I mean the kind of face-to-face that they did at Arthur Kelty’s last known address.”

  “You mean send agents out to talk to people who knew them?”

  “Exactly. With pictures.”

  “I think I can arrange that, although it won’t give us any quick answers. That kind of investigation takes time since so many different offices are involved. Do you have somebody in particular in mind?”

  “There are a couple men involved in these cases that fit Kelty’s general description, and the only thing we know about their pasts is what they’ve told us or others. How do we know they’re who they say they are? Kelty could have created the identity or even taken over one belonging to someone else.”

  “If it’s Kelty.”

  “True. But maybe doing background checks will help us eliminate that possibility.”

  “Who’d you have in mind?” Will pulled his pocket secretary and pen from his suit jacket.

  “My number one favorite, of course—Steve Cochran. I can probably get a picture of him from his personnel folder. The wife of one of our officers works in Personnel and can be trusted to be discreet.” She thought for a moment. “Although Larry Adams is a county employee, she might be able to get a picture of him.”

  “Adams?”
Will frowned, knowing the name was familiar but unable to place it.

  “One of the coroner’s assistants. Trish dated him briefly. She told me last night she stopped because he was ‘weird’ and gave her the creeps.”

  “Interesting,” Will said. “I don’t suppose she was the type to get the willies over what he did for a living.”

  “Not that girl. There’s something else, too. He was at The Factory last night.”

  Will straightened in his chair.

  “He asked Trish to dance, and she refused him. It didn’t look to me like he liked that much.”

  Jen fidgeted for a moment, wondering how much to say, then decided to hold nothing back.

  “I caught a look this morning at the scene,” she continued. “Adams looked like he thought she’d gotten what she deserved.”

  Will jotted the name down and looked at her, waiting for more. She thought hard, but couldn’t come up with any more names.

  “According to the report,” Will said, “the same mailman who found the last victim was also a witness to the hit-skip.”

  “Carter Holiday? Yeah, he was, poor guy. He’s starting to show the strain.”

  “I think we should add him to our list.”

  “Holiday?” Jen frowned. “He hadn’t occurred to me. Do you think it’s too coincidental that he’s showed up twice?”

  “Not necessarily, but it won’t hurt to check.”

  Jen nodded her agreement. “You know, The Factory’s beginning to look like a better connection between the victims than the spa. Trish told me last night that she’d been thinking about trying BodyFit but hadn’t been there yet.”

  “And we at least have the possibility that Edwards had been to The Factory,” Will said, “even though it hasn’t been confirmed.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Unless there’s another connection entirely.”

  Lonnie stood in the doorway. He, Al, and Don entered the room, all of them looking tired and old. Jen poured them each a cup of coffee.

  “Did you find anything?”

  “The usual,” Lonnie said. “There was a wet towel, just like before. There were signs someone had been in the bushes at the corner of her house, and you saw the foyer. We think he must have jumped her at the door. The candlestick was heavy, and we think she might have tried to fight him with it.”