The Forgotten Widow

by Layne, Kennedy

  “As of right this moment, Kenna has nothing to do with this case besides falling into a rather wide pool of potential victims the killer might hunt given his MO,” Dean claimed the chair and rolled it forward, ready to get down to business. He shoved Oliver’s file down the middle of the table, where there was just enough wood showing to make that act reasonably successful. “I’d like to keep her out of the spotlight and my personal connection to her confidential, if at all possible, which is why you’re going to do that thing you do to nail me down a reasonably-sized suspect pool for us to fish in.”

  “You’re no fun, Malone.” Linc didn’t even have to move from his comfortable position in which he’d also been able to rest the back of his loafers on top of the table. He’d always hated suits, and usually opted for business casual. This time around, though, he’d just driven most of the night. He was wearing a pair of jeans with a dark grey sweater that could have used a dress shirt underneath, but Dean had accepted a long time ago that not everyone had a sense of style. “I’ll type up my profile by the end of the day, but you might want to grab a pen.”

  Linc dropped his shoes and rotated the chair just enough to face the whiteboard, but not the monitor. It wasn’t that he was old school, but his method demonstrated a preference for tactical items in order to get a true read on an unsub. Everyone had their own process.

  “Your unsub is still within the same age range of thirty to thirty-five, Caucasian, and grew up inside Winter Heights. I believe it was his own mother who was a widow for whom he felt a deep responsibility when his father died, so I’m presuming the loss occurred when the unsub was under the age of eight.” Linc didn’t even bother to open Oliver Stevens’ file just yet. Instead, he leaned forward as he concentrated on the information written on the whiteboard. “His parents most likely had a traditional marriage, where the father worked and the mother stayed home. The unsub almost certainly had the overwhelming urge to take over his father’s role as protector, but he was simply too young. His thoughts would have then become his sole focus, altering his perception and creating an insatiable need that he most likely never got to fill.”

  Dean was both at awe of Linc’s ability to narrow down areas of an unsub’s life that other profiles kept more vague. His best bet was to take all this information so that Dwight could narrow his online search and hopefully obtain three or four possible good matches.

  “What do you mean by that?” Dean asked reluctantly, not wanting to interrupt Linc’s thought process. Dean also didn’t want to wait for a written profile that would take another a day or two. “Do you think the mother died recently? Is it possible that she was the unsub’s first victim?”

  Linc shook his head, dropping the file on the table as he stood up. He stretched his lower back as he reached for what was left of his coffee before walking over to the whiteboard. There was clearly some detail that was catching his attention.

  “I don’t believe his mother died during his teenage years, though it surely could have been the trigger that set him off. He wanted to be everything to his mother. Let’s hold off on that for a minute. If the unsub’s need to give the victims’ peace evolved to the point where death was his answer, then…”

  Linc frowned as he let his voice trail off. His eyes narrowed once more as he skimmed the contents of the whiteboard.

  “There’s something we’re missing,” Linc muttered, sipping his coffee as if he were watching a movie play out before him. “We’ll come back to that. Let’s talk about the signature. The roses and the manner in which the unsub poses his victims indicates that he cares for his victims on some deep, spiritual level. He’s helping them achieve peace that they struggled to find after losing their husbands, so their death is his way of giving back. I guess you could say he believes he’s releasing them from the rigors of battle.”

  “Giving back?”

  “That’s it,” Linc murmured, tapping the whiteboard numerous times in victory. “The unsub feels he’s giving back to not only the victims, but to the community as a whole. He had no additional family members to come and help his mother. Friends and neighbors must have helped them out after the father’s death. He most likely felt like a burden, which means the mother began to work outside the home. She took over both roles, but in the process had to lean on those people surrounding her—the charity of others. That would explain why he wants Miss Simmons to get his story right. He wants his motives understood. He seeks approval from the general public. He rejects the assertions of the police that he is doing something evil.”

  Dean could see why Quinn Simmons was such an important component to the case at the moment.

  “Simmons has her own agenda,” Dean warned, knowing that it wasn’t going to be easy to bring her on board. At least, not without a few guarantees. “Chaz Hopkins has already promised her an exclusive after the case is resolved, but she might be more willing to help us if you do the same. She’s got some podcast that’s been gaining traction. An interview with the FBI profiler in the spotlight would certainly put a feather in her cap, promoting her onto an entirely different playing field.”

  “I don’t do interviews, Malone.” Linc leveled Dean a stare of contempt. “I’m not going to start now. I’ll speak with Miss Simmons this morning, and I’ll get her to see reason.”

  Dean would love to see that outcome, because Quinn Simmons could definitely be a formidable opponent. She’d already proven herself to be, and he didn’t see that changing anytime soon just because Linc was special.

  “Would you take a moment to look at that file I just gave you?” Dean prompted, figuring that the others were due into the station soon. “I want your opinion on the subject.”

  Linc walked back to his seat, though he remained standing. He flipped open the manila folder and quietly scanned the contents. He took more time to evaluate the information and even flipped up the top page to see the detailed notes that Dean had taken time to write down so that their protocols held up in the eyes of the law if this ever went to trial.

  “I don’t like this Stevens for the murders, if that’s what you’re asking,” Linc finally said, closing the file while he chose his next words carefully. “That’s not what you want my opinion on though, is it?”

  “You’re going to hear about it soon enough, but Frank’s wife has filed for divorce.” Dean rubbed his jaw as he considered the options, none of them good. “Archer is aware of the situation, just as he’s aware that Oliver’s name came up on one of the secondary lists. Hell, I’d be on the list too if I’d been born in Winter Heights. He’s leaving the decision to me on whether or not Frank should be kept on this investigation.”

  “You already know the answer to that question.”

  Frank was unraveling, and he was using his career as a crutch, as would most people in that situation. Oliver’s potential involvement in the investigation was something that Frank could control. Dean would be taking that measure away from his mentor.

  “Chaz is following up with Frank’s nephew. I thought it best that someone with no ties to the family would look better, if it comes to that.”

  “That’s a smart move, but you and I both know that’s not going to be enough.” Linc drained the rest of the contents in his mug. “It would have been one thing if you’d been able to rule out Frank’s nephew upon discovery, but clearly that’s not what happened if you’re sending the sheriff to have a chat with the man.”

  “Last night, Frank revealed that Oliver knew Tamera Johnson. Not personally, but their paths had crossed at some point before she was murdered.” Dean didn’t look forward to the next hour when Frank came rolling into the station. “I made the decision last night to take Frank out of the equation.”

  “And you were hoping that I’d see things differently?” Linc asked, reading the situation correctly as usual. “I don’t believe that Oliver Stevens is your unsub, but I think you’re making the right decision. Besides, I’ve been wrong before.”

  “Being wrong about which chara
cters got killed off on ‘The Walking Dead’ doesn’t count,” Dean said wryly, having heard about the man’s fascination with the show over the last eight years. “I’ll wait to touch base with Archer to let him know that Frank is free to work full-time on the domestic terrorism case. The least I can do is give Frank the courtesy to hear my decision firsthand.”

  “You want more coffee?” Linc asked, taking his navy-blue mug and walking toward the door. “I’m going to need some before we strategize on how to handle Miss Simmons.”

  “Strategize?” Dean twisted the chair so that he was facing the door. “Roche, you might need caffeine to strategize over your profile, but you’re going to need something a hell of a lot stronger to get through your meeting with Quinn Simmons.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “How did it feel?”

  It took a moment for Kenna to realize that Jenn had been talking about the emotional aspect of last night, and not the physical. It was quite humorous to witness the exact second her friend grasped how her question had come across.

  “Oh, wow!” Jenn practically shouted, getting several heads to turn in the café. They’d met at their usual place for lunch, though Jenn had brought Brie with her today. The sweet little girl with an abundance of blonde curls gave a squeal in return at her mother’s excitement. After a bit of shushing and offering up another French fry in small bite-sized portions, Jenn was able to put her focus back on the conversation. “You know that’s not what I meant. You’ve talked a lot about moving forward, but saying and doing so are completely separate things. Craig heard me on the phone with you this morning, and he got a bit worried that maybe you’d moved too fast with your agent. It’s only been three days, Kenna. On the other hand, I did remind him that we had sex on our first date. You know Craig, though. He just worries about you.”

  “I’m not twenty years old, either. If Justin’s death taught me anything, it’s that the promise of life can be taken away from anyone with just one phone call.” Kenna scrunched her nose at Brie, who did the same in return. “Jenn, I don’t want to waste this unique opportunity with Dean. I don’t know what will happen after he completes this case, and I’m more than okay with that. I just want to enjoy today for what it is.”

  Jenn placed both hands over her heart as if Kenna’s words had induced a heart attack.

  “What have you done with my best friend?”

  “She finally turned the page in her own book of life and began a brand new chapter.” Before Kenna could continue, movement in her peripheral vision had her turning to smile at the waitress. “Could I please have—”

  Kenna’s request for more iced tea faded as Bright walked up to the table, his own smile in place. She’d meant her promise to Dean that she wouldn’t have any more face-to-face meetings with her new client until the case was resolved.

  “Hey, Kenna,” Bright greeted before looking up from their table to wave at someone in the back. He then nodded toward Jenn before continuing. “I brought in those receipts that we talked about yesterday. Do you think you can swing by the pub sometime soon to pick them up? Rhonda is working the bar, and she has access to my office.”

  Kenna had taken the time to see who Bright had been signaling at another table. A pretty woman with short brown hair was doing her best to keep a two-year-old little girl occupied with her keyring. They must be his sister-in-law and niece who Dean had mentioned the other night. Seeing as Kenna was about to finish up with Jenn and Brie, she’d be able to swing by for those receipts at the pub before Bright was done with his meal.

  “I can do that,” Kenna replied, hoping that Bright didn’t bring up Dean or the fact that she’d been the one to bring him to the police’s attention. “If I don’t see you beforehand, I hope you have a great Thanksgiving.”

  “You, too.”

  Bright gently laid his hand on her shoulder as he walked behind her. She held her breath, not appreciating the fact that she couldn’t be comfortable around her client anymore. How hard was it to clear him from the nights in question? Dean had already confirmed that the alibis had checked out, so what was the problem?

  “Did I miss something?” Jenn whispered as she leaned in a bit. Brie thought that her mother was being funny and leaned over her highchair as well.

  “No,” Kenna replied, not wanting her best friend to worry over nothing. “I just have to make it home to meet the technician who’s installing my alarm system today. I hadn’t planned on making an extra stop in between. Plus, I want to get home to Spartacus.”

  Kenna had already shared that she was now the proud owner of a handsome tomcat, but she hadn’t gone into detail about Dean’s case or the fact that he’d asked her to stay clear of any one-on-one meetings with Bright.

  It was rare that she kept something from Jenn, but her friend been stressed about having her parents come in from Pittsburgh for the holiday. They still blamed Craig for turning down a job offer in Pennsylvania last year, though it had been both Jenn and Craig’s decision to do so. His mother helped with Brie quite a bit, and Jenn’s mom had let her jealousy interfere with their relationship.

  “Well, we’re about finished with lunch,” Jenn pointed out, distracted by Brie when she tried to reach for the saltshaker. “I was thinking about stopping by the hospital with a sandwich for Craig, so why don’t you go ahead while I get some takeout for him? He’s getting sick of the food in the cafeteria. I’ll grab the tab this time.”

  “Are you sure?” Kenna asked, risking a glance Bright’s way to see that he was already placing an order with the waitress. She relaxed a bit, knowing that she’d be able to grab those receipts and head home before he even got his meal delivered to the table. “I really appreciate it. Tell Craig I said hi.”

  Kenna leaned forward and gave Brie a ton of butterfly kisses on the cheek, who in turn giggled in delight and tried to do the same. She also managed to shove the last bite of what was left of the French fry into her mouth.

  It didn’t take long for Kenna to retrieve her belongings that she’d hung on the back of her chair, wrapping the scarf around her neck first before sliding her coat on and pulling her gloves from the pockets. Once she was prepared for the cold, she gave Brie one more big kiss on the top of her blonde curls and promised to give Jenn a call over the weekend.

  Kenna had about an hour before the technician was due to her house, so she didn’t waste time making her way through the exit and down the sidewalk. Foot traffic was a bit busier due to it being a Friday afternoon, but Kenna didn’t sense anything wrong as she walked toward the pub. Pushing through the door, the excitement for the impending weekend was actually quite palpable.

  “Hi, Kenna,” Rhonda called out from behind the bar. There was a slight greasy smell in the air, but it was overshadowed by an underlying layer of cologne and perfume from the patrons. “Bright isn’t here. You just missed him. He stepped out for lunch.”

  “I know. I ran into him over at the cafe.” Kenna made her way to one of the empty stools, setting her purse on top of the wooden seat. She’d opted for her smaller one instead of the one she usually carried when doing business. “Listen, Bright mentioned that you had access to his office. He brought in some receipts I need for his year-end numbers. He said that you’d be able to get them for me.”

  “No problem. Just give me a second to take care of this couple at the end of the bar.”

  Rhonda already had two cocktail napkins in her hand, her black nail polish chipped on the ends. While she went about taking their drink order, Kenna took time to look around at the lunch crowd. She could see why Bright had opted to meet his sister-in-law at the café. This wasn’t a place for two-year-old children.

  There was a waitress who Kenna had never seen before waiting on the low booths alongside the far left wall of the main room. Rhonda was overseeing the bar, so that meant there was another server on staff for the other side of the pub or even the side rooms. Paul was the afternoon manager, so the other waitress or waiter must be in the kitchen. She’d p
ersonally never met the kitchen staff, though she did remember some of the names from the forms that Bright had given her upon their hiring date.

  A loud round of cheers sounded behind Kenna. She turned to see what all the commotion was about, but she stopped midway when her gaze landed on Sheriff Hopkins. She was very surprised to see him there. He was having what appeared to be an intense conversation with a male who seemed vaguely familiar. Kenna couldn’t place him, though she would have sworn she’d met him before.

  Kenna scanned the rest of the pub, but Dean was nowhere to be found. For all she knew, the sheriff was having lunch with a friend. Her opinion changed when another man came from somewhere in the back, presumably the restroom. He was average height and bald, wearing a suit and tie. The frown on his face spoke volumes as he took the seat next to the other man, yet directly across from the sheriff.

  “I’ll be right back,” Rhonda said, catching Kenna’s attention. “Want a drink while you wait?”

  “No, thank you. I have a service call coming to the house in under an hour.”

  Rhonda was lifting a hand and motioning for someone to take over her duties behind the bar. A handsome young man in his twenties lifted the bar top and waited for her to exit before he closed himself in. He flashed Kenna a quick smile, but he must have been close enough to have overheard she didn’t need a drink. He began to check on the patrons one by one as he made his way around the other side of the bar.

  Not wanting to stand there looking lost, Kenna took off her gloves and reached into her purse for her cell phone. She and Dean had been texting periodically throughout the day. She smiled when she saw that he’d sent her another one, asking if she’d like to take a long drive with him later this evening. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was referring to New Haven as a destination. He’d mentioned that he’d gone through his supply of additional clean clothes he’d brought with him. This invitation meant that she’d get to see his apartment and how he lived, and that was something she didn’t want to pass up. While shooting him a reply, it was then that she finally connected the dots.