Copycat Killer

by Laura Scott

  Her stomach knotted again. “Just one. But I’m hoping to upgrade to a two-bedroom as soon as possible.” She needed to get a decent price for her current apartment, but would that be enough to afford something larger? She tried not to panic.

  “Hmm.” The noncommittal response wasn’t reassuring. Ms. Hendricks crossed the apartment, poking her head into the bedroom and then the bathroom.

  Willow wondered if she’d get extra points for being a clean freak or if only having a one-bedroom apartment would be enough for this woman to decide to take Lucy away.

  She tightened her grip on Lucy, who still hadn’t said anything. No way was she letting this little girl go.

  “How’s Lucy coping?”

  The question caught her off guard. “She had nightmares last night but calmed down when I held her in my arms.”

  “I’m sure it’s a comfort to her to have you with her.”

  For the first time since the woman had entered her apartment, Willow felt herself relax. “Yes, I believe it’s best for Lucy to be with someone she knows and loves. I promise I will do whatever it takes to care for my niece.”

  Ms. Hendricks opened her fridge, hopefully taking note of the chicken breasts and fresh broccoli she’d purchased the other day to make for dinner. Surely the healthy food had to be another point in her favor.

  “I agree.” Ms. Hendricks shut the fridge and turned to face her. “I think you’re doing a wonderful job with Lucy and it’s clear she trusts you.”

  “Thank you.” Willow pressed a kiss against Lucy’s temple, fighting tears of relief.

  “Are you planning to adopt her?”

  “Absolutely.” She didn’t hesitate. “I—just haven’t had time to figure out how to go about doing that. I’m sure there’s paperwork involved, right?”

  “Yes. Our website contains all the information you’ll need.” Ms. Hendricks’s gaze was warm now, and Willow felt certain that the paperwork would be little more than a formality. Her brother didn’t have a will as far as she knew, but she was Lucy’s only living relative. Ms. Hendricks held out a business card. “Call me if you have questions.”

  Willow took the card, tucking it in the front pocket of her jeans. “Thank you.”

  Ms. Hendricks glanced at Vivienne and Hank, who were standing off in the corner. “I assume you’re here to protect them from the person responsible for murdering the Emerys?”

  Willow froze. This was it. The moment of truth. Ms. Hendricks might decide to take Lucy away if she knew Willow was in danger from someone unrelated to her brother’s murder.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Vivienne glanced at the doorway as Nate and Murphy entered the apartment. “There’s Detective Slater now. Members of our team are alternating the duty of watching over Ms. Emery and Lucy.”

  Nate looked surprised to see the newcomer but quickly picked up on the fact that Lucy’s caseworker was doing a surprise home visit. He set a small duffel in the corner, then straightened. “Is there a problem?”

  “No problem.” Willow’s voice was faint. She cleared her throat and injected confidence in her tone. “Detective Slater, this is Ms. Jayne Hendricks from Child Protective Services. She wanted to make sure Lucy was doing okay being here with me.”

  “Understandable. The little girl has been through a lot.” He shook the caseworker’s hand. “Nice to meet you. I want you to know, we’re keeping a close eye on Willow and Lucy to keep them safe.”

  “I can see that.” If Ms. Hendricks thought that having two sets of K-9 officers in her apartment was unusual, she didn’t let on. “Well, that’s all I need for now, but I’ll be in touch.”

  Willow knew that meant she could expect another visit in the near future. Swallowing hard, she escorted Ms. Hendricks to the door. Even after the caseworker left, she couldn’t entirely relax.

  “I feel guilty.” She looked at Nate. “I should have told her about the recent threats targeting me. Maybe Lucy is better off with a foster family.”

  “Do you really believe that?” Nate’s tone was soft, gentle.

  She instantly shook her head, resting her cheek against Lucy’s wavy hair, breathing in the comforting scent of baby shampoo. “No. I’m afraid sending Lucy off with strangers would cause more harm than good.”

  “There’s your answer.” Nate turned toward Vivienne. “Thanks for your help. I’ll take over from here.”

  “No problem. Come, Hank.” Vivienne led Hank out of the apartment. Nate locked the door behind her.

  “Doggy!” Lucy reached a hand toward Murphy. Now that the strangers were gone, she’d reverted back to her old self.

  Willow set her on the floor, watching as her niece made a beeline for Murphy. Clearly, Lucy wasn’t shy around Nate.

  As Lucy gazed up at Nate in adoration, Willow realized her niece was growing emotionally attached to Nate.

  And feared that his leaving once the danger was over would break the little girl’s heart.

  * * *

  Nate quickly filled Willow in on the latest news on Craggy Face being identified as the shooter in the alleyway homicide case. “We’re going to find him very soon.” He opened his laptop and took a seat at the kitchen table. “I just need the guy’s name.”

  “That is good news.” Willow’s smile was strained and he knew that being under the scrutiny of CPS had to be stressful. “I’m—uh, going to start dinner in about an hour or so. Are you planning to stay?”

  He was surprised by her question. “Yes, unless this is your way of kicking me out?”

  “No, of course not.” She flushed and avoided his gaze. “I wasn’t sure what your plans were.”

  His primary goal was to link Carl Dower—the name on the piece of paper found on the victim—to Craggy Face, so they could issue a BOLO for the guy. His secondary and no less important goal was to keep Willow and Lucy safe. He gestured toward his duffel bag. “I’m here until we find and arrest the man responsible for trying to hurt you.”

  “Thanks.” Her smile was fleeting, and he frowned at the hint of sadness in her expression.

  She put on some cartoons for Lucy, who enjoyed sitting beside Murphy while Nate searched for information on Carl Dower. He found a listing for the guy, and quickly dialed the number, only to discover there was no answer and no way to leave a message.

  Drumming his fingers on the table, he tried to think of other ways to get a photograph of Carl Dower. He’d searched on social media to no avail. Was the eyewitness testimony against Craggy Face enough to get a search warrant for Damon Berk’s records? He didn’t think a simple photo of the two men together would be enough, especially since Berk claimed the guy had complained about a burger causing a cracked tooth.

  In his gut he felt certain Carl Dower was Craggy Face. Too bad he couldn’t find the evidence he needed to prove it.

  Turning to the McGregor cold case helped distract him from failing to identify Craggy Face. He reviewed the notes, struck again at the similarities between the two cases.

  His gaze lingered on photos of the brown watch band that was found at the scene of the McGregor case. The DNA hadn’t belonged to either of the victims. How good was the DNA testing twenty years ago? Certainly not as meticulous and thorough as it was now. Surely it had been tested again more recently.

  Or had it?

  Reaching for his phone, he called Gavin. “Sarge, when was the last time we had the watch band retested for DNA?”

  He could hear the shuffling of papers on the other end of the line. “Five years ago, but you raise a good point. Could be someone has been arrested in the years since. I’ll get the forensic team on it.”

  “Sounds good. Let me know if you get a hit.”

  “You and the entire team will know the minute I do,” Gavin promised.

  “Still nothing from the Emery crime scene?”

  “Nothing outside the parents. Their DN
A is all over the place.”

  “Yeah.” He sighed. “Okay, thanks.” Setting his phone aside, Nate thought about how impossible it seemed that the McGregor killer hadn’t struck again in the five years since they’d had the DNA tested, or if he had, had been smart enough not to leave one iota of DNA behind.

  As the evening wore on, Willow busied herself in the kitchen cooking dinner. He tried to ignore her, but the simple fact was that no woman had ever cooked for him.

  Not him, he swiftly corrected himself. Willow was cooking for Lucy. He and Murphy didn’t belong here.

  Yet somehow, he felt more comfortable sleeping on Willow’s sofa than he did in his own place. Shaking his head at his foolishness, he startled when his phone rang.

  “Slater.”

  “Nate? It’s Darcy from the forensic team. I have good news.”

  “I’ll take it.” At this point any evidence would be welcome. “What did you find?”

  “The two bullet casings Ray dropped off from the attempt at Owl’s Head Park and Paulie White’s murder in the alley at Burgerteria are a match. They’re the same make and caliber and have the same markings indicating they are from one gun, a thirty-eight to be exact.”

  One gun. He turned the information over in his mind. He had to believe that Craggy Face had shot and killed Paulie White after the attempt on Willow at the park. Or was it possible he’d used the weapon at the park, then handed the gun to an associate who’d gone after Paulie? The timing seemed almost too close.

  “Do we have a time of death on Paulie White?”

  “Not yet. ME’s not doing the autopsy until the morning, but the tox screen will take several days. At least we know the same gun was used on both crimes.”

  “Yeah, but within a narrow time frame.” He tried to estimate how much time he and Vivienne had spent at the crime scene at the park. Ninety minutes? Was that enough time for Craggy Face to hightail it back to the Burgerteria to nail Paulie? And if so, why had he killed a low-level drug dealer? That piece of the puzzle really didn’t make any sense.

  “Hey, are you still there?”

  He pulled his thoughts together. “Yeah, thanks, Darcy. Appreciate the heads-up.”

  “I’ll let you know if I come up with anything else.”

  “Thanks. Oh, do you know when Willow can have access to her brother’s place? She still needs to pick up Lucy’s things.”

  “Maybe tomorrow. I’ll check with my boss and let you know when we’re ready to release the scene.”

  “Thanks.” He set his phone aside, still grappling with the timeline between the shootings.

  “Dinner’s ready.”

  He hastily put his computer away to make room at the small table for the meal. The scent of Italian seasoning made his mouth water. Willow put Lucy in her booster seat, then set the baked chicken, marinara sauce, noodles and cheesy broccoli on the table.

  “What’s that?” Lucy pointed at the cheesy broccoli.

  “Little trees and cheese. They’re yummy.” Willow’s tone was encouraging.

  “Little trees are my favorite,” he declared, helping himself to the broccoli. Lucy had tried the scrambled eggs when he’d said that, so he was hoping she’d do that again.

  “Just a small bite,” Willow cajoled.

  Lucy obliged, then smiled. “Little trees are my favorite, too.”

  “The cheese helps,” he whispered as Willow cut the chicken into bite-size pieces.

  “Exactly.” Willow smiled wryly. “Not sure she’s had much exposure to veggies. I appreciate your help encouraging her to try the broccoli.”

  “Hey, it is my favorite.” He tried to keep his tone light, even though this sharing a meal together felt too cozy for his peace of mind.

  This—being together—couldn’t amount to anything. He wasn’t father material and refused to be tempted by something he couldn’t have. In fact, he wanted to spend more time on the Emery murders. The minute they had Craggy Face in custody, he’d have to move on. The McGregors had waited twenty years without answers; this new murder with the same MO had to be investigated for a potential link. Besides, Willow and Lucy deserved justice for the loss of Alex and Debra.

  His life revolved around putting bad guys in jail. Not playing happy homemaker with Willow and Lucy.

  As soon as they’d finished eating, he went back to work on his laptop. Willow cleaned up the kitchen, gave Lucy a bath, then tucked her into bed. He found himself listening as they said their nightly prayers.

  “God bless Aunt Willow, Detective Nate and Murphy,” Lucy said. “Amen.”

  “Amen,” Willow echoed. “Good night, Lucy. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  His throat closed with pent-up emotion. Listening to them only reinforced his role of being on the outside, looking in. He shut his laptop with a sigh. Carl Dower was nowhere to be found, and the phone number remained a dead end, too. He stood, stretched, intending to lie down on the sofa, when Willow emerged from the bedroom.

  “Hey.” She offered a wan smile. “I’m too keyed up to sleep. Thought I’d make some chamomile tea.”

  “I’m not much of a tea person. Does it help?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Sometimes.” After filling the teakettle, she placed it on the stove. “It can’t hurt.”

  Silence engulfed them as she waited for the water to boil. When she’d filled a mug with steaming water, she came into the living room to sit beside him on the sofa.

  “What made you choose to become a K-9 cop?” She cradled the mug in her hands as if absorbing the warmth. She’d asked that question the first night he’d stayed over, and he’d found himself talking more about his colleagues’ reasons—only the ones who were open about it—than his own.

  “Oh, well, that’s kind of a long story.” One he normally didn’t talk about.

  Willow looked embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry into your personal life. I get it’s none of my business.”

  “No, really, it’s okay.” He felt bad for making her feel guilty. If anyone deserved to know about his past, Willow did. They’d grown close over the past thirty-six hours, and he thought telling her about his past might help her understand him better. “There was a cop, a guy named Geoff Cally, who came to our rescue the night my mom and I managed to escape my dad.”

  “Escape?” Her brow furrowed, her cinnamon gaze searching his. “He hurt you?”

  “Yeah.” He instinctively reached up to massage the collarbone his dad had cracked that night. The bone had healed, but the pain lingered in his mind. The shock of being hit hard enough to slam into the wall, to break a bone. “My father drank a lot and took his anger out on my mom. I was a skinny kid, ten years old, when I decided to fight back.”

  “Ten.” Her voice was a horrified whisper. “Oh, Nate.”

  He shrugged off her sympathy. “That’s all in the past now, but that night Officer Geoff Cally came to our aid, arrested my dad and had us taken to the hospital, then a shelter.” He thought back to the horror of that night, going to the hospital, then being moved to a shelter. “He didn’t just drop us off and forget about us. He returned to check up on us, to make sure we were okay. He eventually helped us find an apartment of our own.” The place had been a dump, but he’d felt safer there than he ever had in the house they’d lived in with his dad. “He was truly an amazing guy.”

  “A role model that made you want to become a cop, just like him.”

  He couldn’t deny it. “I went to the academy and placed in the top of my class. I worked the beat for a couple of years, then heard about an opening in the K-9 unit.” He reached down to stroke Murphy’s soft coat. “I’d always wanted a dog, but, well...” He shrugged. “The competition is stiff. I wasn’t sure I’d be chosen, but thankfully I was accepted into the program. I worked in another unit for a few years, and was recruited for the new Bro
oklyn team. I like working for Gavin Sutherland, and with the rest of the crew.” He hesitated, then added, “They’re the only family I’ll ever have now that my mother is gone.”

  “What do you mean?” Willow frowned.

  He shook his head. “I haven’t lost my temper yet, and I don’t drink, but there are times I feel the anger simmering deep inside.” He forced himself to meet her gaze. “I can’t risk having a family of my own, Willow.”

  “Oh, Nate.” Her compassion was nearly his undoing. “You’re nothing like your father. You’ve been nothing but sweet and kind to Lucy, and I think you’d be a wonderful dad. And don’t forget, God is watching out for you.”

  She didn’t know what she was talking about, but he couldn’t find the words to correct her.

  Willow scooted over to him, placed her hand on his arm, heat radiating from her fingertips. Then she bent over to kiss him. He was sure she’d meant it to be a chaste, healing kiss, but that wasn’t the case. Their lips clung, then meshed. He drew her into his arms, deepening their kiss.

  “Aunt Willow!” Lucy’s plaintive cry had them springing apart. “The mean clown is back.”

  “Excuse me.” Willow hurried into the bedroom to comfort Lucy from her nightmare, leaving him gasping for breath, wrestling with the realization that his feelings for Willow were not that of a cop whose duty was to protect her, or even that of a friend.

  No, he cared about Willow on a personal level, far more than he had a right to.

  TWELVE

  The impact of Nate’s kiss made it difficult to sleep. Willow had stared blindly up at the ceiling for an hour, emotions spinning in turmoil. Her heart ached for the young boy who’d been beaten by his father, who’d escaped with his mother to live in shelters. She thanked God for watching over them, and for bringing a man like Geoff Cally into Nate’s life. The cop had not only helped keep Nate and his mother safe but had been a wonderful role model for Nate.

  Yet Nate didn’t think he deserved a family of his own. And hadn’t mentioned God or faith. Because he didn’t believe? The thought made her sad. And avoiding a family wasn’t the right path; he would make a wonderful husband and father.