Joanna shrugged. “I’m doing okay. I heard it’s one of our drivers who found the woman, Nate. He’s a good guy. I hope you didn’t mess with his family vacation.”
“He’s not a suspect,” Theo said, obviously understanding she didn’t want to deepen the subject of her life choices and their consequences.
“So the woman remembered who took her? Was she drugged? The slasher always used GHB. Did you find the kill site yet?”
“I can’t tell you anything about this, except we do appreciate your contribution.”
“You agree it could be him?”
“I didn’t say that. Look, when we’re asking you to stay away, it’s not punishment, it’s a favor. What’s done is done. You can’t turn back the clock.”
It looked like there wasn’t much moving forward for her either, like she was trapped in a time warp. Those hours at the warehouse every day were her only escape, how pathetic was that? That, and she had another date with Grace tonight. Talk about pathetic.
“I’m not trying to do that.” Theo’s look was skeptical, but she went on. “I mean it. It’s a bad coincidence that this involved someone I know. I wanted to help, that’s all. Now I’m going to be a good girl and do as I’ve been told. I’d just appreciate it if we could talk once in a while.”
“I shouldn’t even be seen in public with you, but apparently you’re that irresistible.”
Theo knew that his charm wouldn’t get him anywhere with her. That had never been the plan, it had been a normal part of their interaction, before the yelling and the disappointment.
“Is that so?”
“Hey, I was hoping you two would make up. If you start making out instead, I’m out of here.”
Vanessa sat back down with her second donut.
“Don’t worry,” Joanna told her. “Mission accomplished.”
She beamed, and Joanna caught the look Theo was giving her long time friend. Really? That was potentially bad news, could harm both of their careers. She knew that Vanessa had a knack for living on the edge. She was almost as bad as Joanna that way, though this came unexpected. They’d have to talk about it. After all, they looked out for each other.
Chapter Three
Joanna had planned to lay out all the reasons to Grace why they should part ways after sharing that one last drink. How come she had ended up in her bed instead? At least the sex wasn’t so bad this time. As promised, Grace showed more focus, and genuine appreciation for everything Joanna did. That still didn’t mean it was a good idea walking down that path.
“I can’t wait to see you again,” Grace whispered.
“I’ll be busy for the next few weeks,” Joanna lied.
Also, she couldn’t go back to The Copper Door for a while if Grace hung out there as well. Contrary to popular belief, Joanna tended to avoid confrontations rather than seek them out.
“That’s all right. I can be patient. Can you stay overnight?”
“No, sorry, I have an early start tomorrow.” That was a lie, too, but it was better than to be cruel. Eventually, she hoped, Grace would get the hint.
“A few more minutes?”
“Sure.”
Grace snuggled up to her, too close for Joanna’s comfort. She couldn’t even remember when she’d last gone out with a woman who wanted to cuddle and see her again. The thought made her uncomfortable.
“You know, maybe I can give you a little incentive,” Grace said. “Something…even spicier.”
Alarm bells were starting to ring. Maybe she was beyond paranoid—beyond saving.
“There’s a friend of mine…He’d like to meet you. Maybe hang out with us sometime.”
No, she wasn’t paranoid, not at all. Joanna bolted upright in bed.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You know,” Grace said innocently. “Some couples do that. I wanted to have you to myself for a bit, but you’d be perfect…”
“Oh dear God. No. No way. I think it’s better if you didn’t call me again.” Once again, she gathered her clothes and dressed quickly, chiding herself for not seeing the signs. It had been Grace’s motivation all along to find a third party. Joanna wasn’t interested in being that person, not if someone gave her lots of money for it.
“Why don’t you give it a try? I’m sure you’d like it if you gave us a chance.”
“No thanks. I don’t do couples.” More importantly, “I don’t do men. Ever. Forget about it.”
“Fine, I get it.” Grace gave a deep sigh. “What about us? Can’t we meet again, just the two of us?”
If forced to, Joanna would have to confess to a brief fling with a married woman, when she’d just gotten out of prison and her life was a constant source of frustration and regret—that occurrence fit right in at the time. She was a little less desperate these days.
“No. This was a bad idea to begin with. I’m sorry, you’ll have to find your third party somewhere else. I am not interested.”
To her dismay, Grace wrapped herself into the sheet and followed her out in the hallway. “Joanna, please don’t leave like this! What if I leave him?”
“I’ll be honest. At this point it doesn’t make any difference. I’d appreciate it if you deleted my number from your phone. You shouldn’t have it in the first place.”
“You never once intended to call me?” Grace asked bitterly, as if Joanna was the person at fault.
“I guess now that you figured that out, we can just stop talking to each other. Good night.”
“You have no idea what you’re missing,” Grace yelled after her. Joanna pretended not to hear her. A straight couple on the prowl. Jesus. She needed to re-evaluate her standards right now.
This time, Joanna went home right away and powered up her old laptop. It had barely enough memory to allow her high speed Internet. She searched for any article and social media communication regarding the woman in the hospital, and printed out everything she found.
While the printer was working, she poured herself a glass of red wine from the open bottle in the fridge. Her cell phone rang. Grace. Of course, nothing could ever be this easy.
Joanna turned off the phone and went to pick up the pile of sheets the printer had spat out. She scanned the newspaper articles for a name, got lucky on the third one: C. Danvers. Next, she sorted out the social media information. It didn’t take her long to find a public Facebook post mentioning Christina Danvers, including tag, expressing the hope she was okay. From the looks of it, the poster was a female friend. Her profile and pictures looked real—which didn’t mean there wasn’t an imposter hiding behind it, a man, her would-be-murderer stalking her. Or he could be the woman’s boyfriend or husband.
Norman Decker had had a wife and a young child.
Christina Danvers’ account was better protected than her friend’s, but even so, Joanna found a few pictures and her occupation. She was working as a secretary for a big pharmaceutical company. Would she have access to drugs? Would that be of interest to the killer? He probably had stashed up a long time ago. Joanna made a note on a separate sheet.
Christina had a Twitter account in her own name. The last tweet was some cute kitten video, ten days ago. Had she been missing? If she hadn’t missed work, the killer had probably taken her on a weekend, aware of her schedule.
The bar. The motel. These places were eerily familiar to Joanna, even if she hadn’t been there in years. It was time to revisit, soon. That other time, he had killed the victim in the motel, but in recent years, the area had changed, a lot more traffic. He probably didn’t want to take the risk, had brought Christina elsewhere.
She took out a map and spread it on the table, marking the bar and motel, then the place where Nate had almost run over Christina Danvers. How far had she run? What exactly did she remember? There was only one person who could answer those questions, and getting those answers would jeopardize the fragile cease-fire she had with Theo. Vanessa would criticize her, but let it go. Theo had no reason to feel guilty t
oward her, so he wouldn’t let her off so easily.
It was best if neither of them knew, at least unless she got some valuable information. In that case, they couldn’t be too hard on her.
Joanna had always hated how the lives of crime victims tended to be dissected in the search for a reason, especially when those victims were women. Some tended to leave out information for the fear of judgment. If there was alcohol and flirting involved, it wasn’t much of a reach to assume Christina might have done the same.
* * * *
Joanna didn’t plan to be too stealthy—hers was still a familiar name among the cops of her former division, so trying wouldn’t serve her. She realized right away that she knew the officer assigned to guard Christina’s hospital room. Good or bad, she’d find out soon. She remembered his name, Thomas Hetfield, though they had never talked much.
“Hi there. I haven’t seen you in a while,” she said, earning a wary look from him.
“Same here. What are you doing here?”
“I’m sure Theo told you already, but this might be related to one of my old cases. I was hoping I could talk to her for a few minutes.” No need to tell him that no one had signed off on this.
“Why would you do that? You’re not one of us.”
So everyone kept reminding her: There was an “us” that she didn’t belong to anymore.
“I’m here to help. Sometimes an outsider perspective helps.” The term made her cringe, but hey, whatever worked.
“We don’t usually let civilians do the work for us, as you know,” he said coolly.
Ouch. That said it in even clearer terms than “outsider.”
“Then how about letting me talk to her for a moment, tell her that she did great getting away from the bastard? She needs that right now—and I know what I’m talking about. I’ll be responsible.”
Hetfield looked uncertain. She was going to play his doubts best she could. “I might not be a cop anymore, and I’m certainly not a therapist, but I’ve dealt with this kind of monster. It’s better now than later that somebody tells her she can get through this.”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on.”
He looked around, as if someone who’d reprimand him instantly was already close.
“Five minutes, not a second longer.”
“Thanks. I’ll buy you a drink at The Copper Door.”
“Not necessary. Hurry up.”
Christina Danvers was awake when Joanna entered the room, staring at her with suspicion.
“You’re not a doctor, nurse or a cop. I don’t talk to reporters.”
“I’m not a reporter, but I used to be a cop. I’d just like to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay with you.”
At the first sight of her, Joanna had almost walked out backwards, accepting that what everyone said was right: She had no place anywhere near this investigation.
“No, it’s not okay with me. Who are you? What the hell do you want from me?”
In this case, anger was a good thing, Joanna thought. Anger for a reason could potentially keep you alive. It had helped her.
“I know you’ve been hurt. I worked on cases like this, and one of them was very similar to yours. We never caught the guy.”
“Oh, great. I feel so much better now.”
Joanna ignored the sarcasm.
“I want to do everything I can to help rectify that, but the police need your help too. Have you told them everything you remember?”
“Of course I have. Are you—?”
“I killed a man once,” Joanna said.
Christina’s eyes widened. “How did you get in here?”
“That man was a serial killer, but he also had a perfectly normal life on the side, a wife and a kid. He was preying on college girls. I’ll spare you the details, but I want you to know I’m on your side. You got away. You’re strong. You can help us finally put him away and stop the nightmares for many others.”
“How can you put him away when you’re not a cop anymore?”
“I went to prison, and when I got out, I swore to myself, I don’t care, it’s not my problem. That was wrong. He is still out there, and that is my problem. I will pass on everything to the detectives.”
“You have no idea.” Christina turned away. “All I wanted was some fun. I never thought…” Her words trailed off. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. Whatever it is you did, nothing in the world could justify anyone hurting you.”
“No? You didn’t see the looks I got from the cops when I told them I went to a motel with a guy I’d met that night. Hey, I was taking my chances, right? You’d think not every man you meet is a sick psychopath. I’ll reconsider that.”
“I won’t give you those looks. I want him to pay.”
“Why do you still care? Is this some kind of item you want to check off the list, to redeem yourself?”
Joanna paused, seeing herself with Decker, hearing his laughter, and then, the gunshots. Faith Rickers, Danielle Montgomery, Shellie Gordon and Emily LeVaughn.
“It’s too late for that,” she said. “I’m not saying it’s not selfish. I’d sleep better if he was locked away for the rest of his miserable life.”
She had oftentimes conflicted about the death penalty which had been abolished in her home state. When she had walked onto the crime scene that Mila’s apartment had become, Joanna hadn’t been conflicted at all.
Christina looked frightened, but she nodded.
“Okay. There is something I haven’t told the police. I’m really sorry.”
“That’s okay. You tell me now. I’ll take the heat,” Joanna promised.
* * * *
When her call went to voicemail for the fifth time in a row, Grace threw her phone against the wall. Edward’s laughter made her even more furious.
“Stop it!”
“Why do you care?” he asked, perfectly relaxed as he smoked his cigarette. “We’ll find someone new. It’s not that hard.”
Grace pouted. “She didn’t even want to see me again. I should have never brought the subject up.”
“Well, it’s too late now,” he pointed out. “Have you packed? We’re leaving early tomorrow.”
“I’m not leaving. There’s something she didn’t tell me, and I have to find out what it is. She was into it, the second time, I could tell.”
Edward watched her, amused. He didn’t even seem much concerned about her announcement.
“That’s not like you, to hang on to one of them. You’ll find someone else. The sky’s the limit, baby.”
“Spare me the platitudes,” she seethed.
“Okay then,” he said, his tone so serious all of a sudden, it made Grace flinch. When Edward talked in this tone, he meant business and accepted no messing around. “You can’t stay here. We can’t stay here. You know damn well why.”
“Do I? Everything is fine. I read the newspaper this morning.”
“And that’s all the proof you need,” he said sarcastically.
“You’re the one who wanted to lay down roots in your hometown.”
Edward considered her words for a moment. “Actually, yes, you’re right. I guess we’re staying a little while longer, see how things pan out. Stay away from that girl though. I know her. You don’t want that kind of attention.”
Grace gave him a small smile and a nod.
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“Okay, okay.” She threw her hands in the air. “I’m not going to call her anymore. She can’t keep me from going to my favorite bar. I can easily find someone younger and prettier than her there.”
“Then why didn’t you do so in the first place?” Edward asked mildly.
Chapter Four
“What part of don’t go near this case didn’t you understand? This is so typical. Remind me to never trust you again. You are unbelievable!”
Joanna had hoped she’d have a little more time until Theo returned. It turned out she wasn’t that lucky.
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“Um…maybe we should take this outside?” she ventured.
“No. This is okay. I’d like Joanna to stay,” Christina said. “Detective, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“Ms. Danvers, if this woman bothered you…”
“This woman is my friend.”
Christina made a dismissive gesture when Theo gave her an incredulous look.
“I know about the Decker story,” she said. “I can’t say I’m worried about this now. The man who abducted me has killed before, as it seems, and he’s still out there. That scares me senseless.”
“Believe me, we’re doing everything we can…Why didn’t you mention you knew each other?” he asked suspiciously. There was a tense silence before both women realized the question had been for Joanna.
“That’s because we didn’t. I make friends quickly.”
“I’m not naïve,” Christina added. “She’s the first person who makes me think someone could find him.”
Joanna winced.
“Well, then, thanks J, for instilling so much confidence in regular police work. Ms. Danvers, what is it you remember?”
Christina sent Joanna an imploring look, and she answered for her.
“The guy was with his girlfriend, and they invited her to what they said was a kinky sex party. In the motel, it was just the three of them, though. There was consensual sex at first, but then they had drinks, and Christina remembers very little after that. I’m thinking GHB.”
“A kinky sex party,” Theo repeated, looking confused.
“Don’t you understand? Christina, we’re going to step outside for a moment, okay?” Outside the room, she continued, “The slasher is moving up in the world. Instead of using pencils to stab away, he’s planning, drawing lines on the women’s bodies, cutting patterns. And he’s gone from simple hook-ups to sex parties. Well, those might not actually exist, but there is someone helping him, a woman! It’s harder to remain unseen if they work as a couple!”
Her cheeks were flushed. Joanna had almost forgotten that there had been years of prison and the traumatic ending of a case in between the present and the last time she’d tried piecing together clues leading to a murderer. It wasn’t something she could simply turn off.
Killer Instinct Page 3