Something in the corner caught the light and sparkled.
Jewels? she thought, approaching the spot. Something that might have belonged to Lydia?
She crouched down and picked at the broken pieces of stone with her glove. They were firmly encased in the mire and she had to give one a good jerk to get it loose. At last she was able to put a hand between the rocks and pull something out.
It was a thin rusted wire. A rectangular shape with fragments of rotting fabric still clinging to the frame. A case of some sort? She moved another slab out of the way and down in the dirt and ashes she found a pile of tiny metal rings.
Clarinet parts. The one that had belonged to Muriel Tannenburg? Or perhaps to her son?
Was this the great room the mother had died in? The thought made her uncomfortable.
The wind picked up. Leaves and ashes blew over the foundation. Suddenly the whole place seemed eerie and full of ghosts. Cold chills galloped up Miranda’s arms and spine. Her spidey sense was going off. Maybe there was something to be found here, after all.
She stood again and inched close to the edge of the room. She peered out into the woods. She couldn’t see Templeton or O’Malley. Couldn’t hear the dog at all.
Where had they gone? She sensed something behind her.
Suddenly a groan echoed overhead. Wood snapped. She looked up. The rotten beam yawned above her.
Get out of the way.
But before she could move something slipped around her neck and pulled her back. The beam came crashing down, hurling a cloud of decade old dust into the air. Coughing Miranda felt a stab of relief.
Then the thing around her neck began to squeeze.
Fear jolted her insides. Instincts kicking in she grabbed whatever it was, tried to get her fingers under it.
Snake? she thought. No, an arm. Strong arm. Tall, from the angle. Muscular.
Its grip tightened around her throat. She couldn’t breathe.
And yet she could smell something. The sickening odor of cheap cologne.
She kicked out behind her, hit the air. She kicked again, hit flesh, heard a muffled cry. A man.
Then the grip grew tighter, tighter.
She couldn’t get air into her lungs. She opened her mouth. No sound. She couldn’t even make a wheeze. Templeton. O’Malley. Lucky. Where were they?
Her head started to spin. White dots danced before her eyes. She was dying. Whoever this bastard was, he was going to kill her.
She made one final kick as hard as she could, felt it connect.
Something cold and clammy pressed against her cheek. Then a harsh voice whispered in her ear. I know who you are.
And then everything went black.
Chapter Fifty-Two
“Steele! Steele! Are you all right?”
Miranda opened her eyes and saw Templeton’s chunky face hovering over her. She was patting a stubby fingered hand against her cheek. A little too hard.
She sat up and brushed the hand away. “Stop that. Yeah, I’m okay, I guess.”
Except her head hurt. She reached behind it and found a knot. She must have gotten it when she fell.
“What happened?”
Miranda blinked over at O’Malley who was standing a few feet behind Templeton holding Lucky on a leash.
“I’m not sure.”
What had happened? She couldn’t really remember. There was a man, she thought. Someone choking her from behind. A mean rear naked choke. But how could there be? The dog would have sensed him, wouldn’t he?
Then she remembered the beam that had fallen. She peered between the detective and the officer and saw it lying there in the corner. It must have hit her on the head.
She must have passed out.
She thought of the dreams she’d been having lately. Leon coming back, chasing up stairs, attacking her, telling her she’d never be free of him.
She must have had another one when that beam hit her.
Wondering if she could get hold of Dr. Wingate, her old therapist, tonight she got up, dusted herself off. She grabbed her helmet from off the floor where it had landed and tucked it under her arm.
She spied a plastic bag in Templeton’s other hand. “Did you find something?”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact. Lucky found this buried under a tree at the edge of the property. It wasn’t too deep.” Templeton held up the bag.
A dull gold chain sparkled in Miranda’s headlight, which was still on.
“What is it?”
“It’s an ankle bracelet. It’s got a little gold heart with the initials A.T. engraved on it.”
Miranda stared at it. “You think that belonged to Lydia Sutherland?”
“Lucky thought so.”
Didn’t prove Tannenburg killed her but it was a good circumstantial piece of evidence. If he had given that bracelet to Lydia, he took it back that night as a trophy and buried it in his back yard.
“So are we done here?”
Templeton turned to O’Malley. “What do you think?”
“I don’t think we’ll get anything better.”
“I agree.” The detective turned back to her. “I’ll take you back to the hotel, Steele, then swing by the station to log this in. Tomorrow we can start working on what we’ll submit to the DA.”
Miranda nodded an approval. “Sounds good.”
So they’d gotten what they came for. Mission accomplished. But as they started back to their vehicles, Miranda had a feeling they were still missing a big chunk of the puzzle.
Chapter Fifty-Three
It was just after one in the morning when Parker reached the hotel. As he rode the elevator to the eighteenth floor and headed down the hall to the hotel suite, all he wanted was to take Miranda in his arms and make love to her.
The trip to Florida had done more than bewilder him. It had made him long for a different life.
He wanted to take Miranda and spirit her away somewhere. Somewhere far away. Somewhere safe. Though he knew deep down there was no such place.
As he swiped the keycard in the door, he felt very old.
He stepped inside, took his jacket off and laid it over the back of one of the chairs in the sitting area. Then he moved quietly into the bedroom.
The light was off. Miranda had to be asleep. He hated thinking of her alone in this room. He went to the side of the bed and reached out to touch her.
All he felt was a pillow.
He switched on a light on the nightstand. The bed was freshly made. Empty.
He jerked his cell out of his pocket. One missed call this afternoon. No message. He’d had his phone off on the flight back. He dialed her number and waited.
It went to voicemail.
He hurried to the closet and checked her clothes. The outfit she’d worn this morning was hanging there. A pair of jeans and a summer blouse and jacket were missing.
He ran a hand through his hair. Where could she be?
He rushed back into the sitting area. He turned in a full circle, scanning every surface of the place. But the maid must have cleaned after Miranda had come home to change. There was no trace of her.
Demarco. He should call Demarco. He didn’t care how late it was.
Just as he was about to dial the sergeant’s number, he heard the door open.
He looked up and saw Miranda coming through it.
Relief hit him like a spray of cold water on a hot summer day, sharp as a knife.
“Miranda,” he said. “Where have you been?”
Her deep blue eyes fixed him like daggers. “Working. Where have you been?”
“The same.”
Her wild hair was more tangled than usual, and more beautiful in its disarray. Her jeans had gray stains on the knees. There was a rip in her teal blazer and a smudge on her cheek.
“You look like you’ve been in a fight. Have you?” The words came out more biting than he intended.
Miranda tensed as a burst of anger rippled through her. How dare Parker stand there in his s
uit after being gone all day and accuse her of doing something wrong?
But she held back her temper.
Taking off her jacket she brushed past him with a shrug. “Templeton and I went to the Tannenburg estate.”
Parker followed her into the bedroom. “In Evanston?”
“That’s where it was the last time I looked.” Starting to get undressed she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
A line of black soot ran down the side of her face. She looked like a football player. No wonder Parker seemed so worried. No, he’d worry no matter how she looked.
“Why did you go there this time of night?” Accusation was still in his tone.
She reached for a tissue on the dresser and began cleaning her face. It made her head hurt. “Templeton has a friend in the K9 unit. It was the earliest he could get away. The dog actually found something.”
“What was it?”
“An ankle bracelet. It was buried on the property. Had Tannenburg’s initials on it.”
Parker considered that a moment. “That wouldn’t prove he killed Lydia Sutherland.”
Miranda shrugged and tossed the tissue in the trash. “It’s circumstantial. Templeton wants to try to turn the case over to the DA and let the Feds try to find Tannenburg.”
Parker had a funny look in his eye but he didn’t say anything. Miranda wanted to say, “Your turn.” She wanted to ask him what the hell he was doing in Florida. She wanted to demand he tell her the truth.
But that would lead to a fight and she didn’t have stomach for a row tonight. She needed some sleep.
She trudged into the bathroom, rinsed off the grime of tonight’s adventure, and got into bed.
Parker had already turned off the light and laid down. To avoid her questions, no doubt. He hadn’t even bothered to say goodnight.
Don’t worry, buddy, Miranda thought as she pulled up the covers and rolled away from him. We’re on for tomorrow.
If he didn’t have another “interview.”
She was just drifting off to sleep when her cell rang. She shot up and snatched it off the nightstand.
“Hello?”
“Steele?” It was Templeton.
Parker stirred beside her. “Who is it?”
“Templeton,” she told him. “Hold on. I’ll put you on speaker.” She pressed a button and laid the phone on the blanket between them. “Go ahead.”
“Sorry to call so late.”
“That’s okay. Are you still at the station?”
“Yes. I came in to check in that evidence like we said.”
“Okay.”
There was a pause. Then Templeton continued, sounding a little strange. “When I got to my desk the report was waiting for me.”
Miranda frowned. “What report?”
“Results of the rape kit.”
Miranda’s stomach tensed. She turned to Parker and saw his gray eyes were as serious as ever.
“What were they, Detective?” he asked.
After another pause Templeton replied in the stiff formal tone she used with Demarco. “One donor. No contamination. Single source male profile.”
Miranda didn’t wait for the rest. “We got him, right? The donor was Tannenburg?”
Templeton let out a breath. “Looks like we were way off base with that.”
Miranda couldn’t believe what Templeton had just said. “What are you talking about? We have an eye witness who saw him leaving Lydia Sutherland’s house the night of the fire.”
“The witness might have been mistaken.”
She put a hand to her head growing more frustrated by the minute. “How can you say that, Templeton? The neighbor seemed reliable to me. We’ve got the waitress and Lydia’s letters stating she was in love with the guy. Tannenburg was there that night.”
“If he was, there was no hanky-panky between him and Sutherland. Not that night.”
Parker’s frown deepened. “Are you saying the assault kit results are negative?”
Templeton let out a grim laugh. “No, they’re positive all right. Like I said one donor. But it wasn’t Tannenburg.”
“Who was it then?” Miranda demanded.
Templeton was silent.
Miranda looked at Parker and saw the strangest look she’d ever seen in his eyes.
She turned back to the phone. “Templeton? You still there?”
At last the detective spoke. “Sorry but this is hard to swallow.”
Miranda felt her throat go dry. What was going on here? “Hard to swallow?”
“Yeah. I hate to say it, but it was a cop. I looked up his record. He was dismissed years ago, thank God.”
A chill went down Miranda’s spine. “A cop?”
“Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either. But his DNA was on file so we have a solid match.”
“Who was he?”
“An officer who used to work out of the Oak Park department.”
“Oak Park?” Miranda whispered.
“Right.”
“What’s his name?”
“His name is Leon Groth.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Miranda sank back on the pillow feeling as if she were still trapped in one of her nightmares. Her head pounded. Her insides ached. Her stomach churned as if she had the flu.
Leon?
It was Leon who raped Lydia Sutherland and set her house on fire? How could that be? She was married to him at the time. Somehow his DNA had gotten into the national database file. Probably when he’d been dismissed from the force years ago. Or maybe after what happened in Lake Placid.
But it couldn’t be him. Maria Esposito said she saw Tannenburg driving away that night. No, she must have been wrong, like Templeton said. As the neighbor told them, it was a long time ago.
Miranda felt sicker and dizzier as more waves of truth hit her. Leon had cheated on her. He had raped and killed a woman in the next neighborhood and she’d never had a clue. How dumb was that? How blind?
“Miranda. Are you all right?”
Miranda turned her head to find Parker hovered over her, scrutinizing her with deep concern. A moment before she hadn’t even been aware of his presence.
She put her hands over her face. “I was so stupid,” she murmured, half to herself. “I was such a gullible idiot.”
Parker dared to touch her arm, but no more. If he pushed too hard he feared his wife might slip back into that dark place she used to go when he first met her. No wonder she’d been having such bad dreams. She must have sensed her ex-husband was involved in this case in some way. She had the ability to see such things with her intuition. And yet this news had blindsided her.
But the revelation made perfect sense to him.
Lydia Sutherland was the connection between Groth and Tannenburg. The reason Groth had gone to see Tannenburg in prison fifteen years ago. Maria Esposito hadn’t been wrong. Tannenburg had been there that night, had witnessed Groth’s rape and murder of Lydia Sutherland. But somehow Groth had rigged what evidence there was to point to Tannenburg—the “goods” he told Wolak he had on Tannenburg. At the jail he made a deal with the young man. Probably promised to get Tannenburg off if he disappeared. After Tannenburg was released, Groth might have killed him. Now there were no witnesses and the case had gone cold.
Parker wasn’t going to tell Miranda that. Not any of it. Not now. Not ever.
Suddenly she sat up.
“What is it?” Worry for her stabbed at his gut.
Miranda pushed the hair out of her eyes as her mind started to come out of its stupor. “We went to see Lydia’s sister today. She had letters she’d kept from back then. Lydia referred to her boyfriends in art terms.”
Parker sat up on the bed beside her, dared to lay a gentle hand against her back. “Art terms?”
“She named them after artists or works of art. She was being secretive. She didn’t want her parents to know so she didn’t even tell her sister their names.”
“All right.”
“Sh
e called one of them David or Apollo. You know, the statue Michelangelo did?”
“Yes, I know it.”
“Thought you would. We figured that was Adam Tannenburg. But there was another one. She called him Rembrandt. But not just Rembrandt. Her dark haired Rembrandt.” She turned to Parker, openmouthed, feeling as if the rotten beam from that old house that had fallen tonight had hit her square in the chest and knocked her breath out. “That had to have been Leon.”
Her mind started to rebel. No, she thought. This wasn’t right. Templeton had to be wrong. How could it be true?
Then she recalled there was a time when Leon had pulled a lot of double shifts. Or so he’d said. It was around the holidays of that year.
He must have been seeing Lydia then.
Lydia called him her Rembrandt? She didn’t know him very well, did she? But Leon had been nice to her when she first met him, too. Until she crossed him.
That must have been what happened that night. Lydia did something Leon didn’t like. He flew into a rage and strangled her. Miranda knew the feel of those hands around her own throat. She’d been lucky the bastard had never gone that far with her.
And when that poor foolish girl was dead, he covered it up by setting her on fire.
“Good Lord,” she whispered.
She turned to Parker and saw his thoughts reflected her own. She could see it in his eyes.
And she saw guilt there, too.
He pulled her close to him. “Oh, my darling. My darling. If I had known I never would have brought you here.”
She pulled away. “I thought Demarco requested our help.”
“He did. But I should have refused. I never should have taken a case here. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m okay.” She pulled out of his grip, feeling disoriented and strange. He was babying her again and she didn’t like it. And she liked even less what he’d just half revealed.
Parker had brought them here on purpose. He hated that she was going through all this but he was still hiding something from her. She wanted to talk about it. She wanted to get their cards out on the table. But she couldn’t handle it tonight. Not tonight.
“I just need to get some sleep,” she said.
Trial by Fire (A Miranda and Parker Mystery Book 6) Page 22