by Karen Rose
A tragedy. Yes, it had been that. A tragedy that could have been completely avoided if he hadn’t been so full of himself. He said nothing. He wasn’t sure he could.
“Your friend died,” she said softly. “Her name was Megan, wasn’t it?”
He swallowed. Nodded.
“Her stepfather was a monster,” his mother murmured.
He swallowed again, the scene so clear in his mind. “Yes,” he whispered.
“He killed his whole family. I think we all thought it was sad, that we wished we’d known he was capable of such evil. I never considered how deeply Megan’s death impacted you. I should have. You’d been close in junior high. I’m sorry for that, David. I was so wrapped up in getting by after your dad died… and you were always so strong and steady. I never saw you were hurting. I’m sorry for that, too.”
He lifted his eyes to hers. She was sorry? She’d done nothing wrong. Not like me. He cleared his throat, hoped his voice would be level. “Why bring all that up now?”
She sat back in her chair. “Because I’ve thought about this for a long time and have wanted to ask you so many times. It never seemed like the right time, so I left it alone. I don’t suppose you understand that.”
He thought of Olivia, of how he’d put things off far too long. “More than you think.”
She leaned forward, covered his hand with hers. “For years I watched you donate your time and your talent to worthy causes. But during those same years I watched you be so alone it’s made my heart break. But you’re a man grown, so I kept my counsel.”
“And now?”
“Now… you look like you’re trying to start your life again. So I come to visit, hoping to find you settled. Instead I find an empty apartment and a son who’s still alone. Who still volunteers every waking moment of his time to others.”
David squared his jaw, looked away. “That’s not wrong.”
“Not when it’s for the right reasons. I’m not sure your reasons are the right ones. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were doing penance.”
He met her eyes, helplessly miserable. He wanted to deny her words, but could not.
Her eyes filled with tears. “I thought so. Some- times, when you think no one can see, you get this look in your eyes. Like you carry the world on your shoulders. Why?”
His chest was too tight. But she was waiting. I can’t tell her the truth. Not all. So he carved away enough of the truth to make the pain on her face go away. “I saw it. The crime scene.”
Confused, she blinked, sending the tears down her cheeks. “What?”
“I was coming home from my friend’s house. You all were at Mass that morning. I saw police cars in front of Megan’s house, and I ran up to see. And I saw them. Dead.”
His mother blanched, horrified. “Dear God. Megan, her mother… they were…”
He nodded, kept his voice steady. “Beaten to death. Yes.”
She sat across the table, stunned. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Because I was ashamed. I still am. And I don’t want you to ever know what I did.
He shrugged. “I guess I was in shock. I was eighteen, Ma. Boys that age don’t get all emotional about things like that.” Which was a lie. He had been emotional. He’d nearly lost his mind. “But I remembered it. And I needed to do something to keep it from happening again. I can’t help the women themselves, but I can help the shelters.”
His mother blinked again, struggling for composure. “David, I wish you’d told me then. I can’t imagine what you saw. We should have gotten you help. Therapy.”
“I was eighteen, Ma. I wouldn’t have gone to therapy.” Hell, he hadn’t even told his priest. “So stop blaming yourself.”
She nodded uncertainly. “Well, that does explain a lot.” She looked at him, her eyes intense. “You do know there’s nothing you could do to make me not love you.”
And he realized she knew he lied still. “Yeah. I know.”
She reached for his hands, squeezed them fiercely. “I’m proud of you. Never forget that.” She sat back briskly. “Now, about where I’m going to stay.”
“Here,” he said firmly, relieved that was over. “You’re going to stay here. You need to check out all the apartments, get a feel for colors.”
“That would be best. I’m going carpet shopping,” she said. “If you’re going out tonight, you should get some rest.”
“Drive carefully, Ma.” He kissed her cheek. “I’m glad you’re here. I love you, too.”
He watched her leave, then sagged into a chair, his eyes closed, drained. But it would be fruitless to try to sleep. His mind was churning along with his gut. It happened every time he remembered that day. Today it was worse, lying to his mother.
He rose wearily. He had time to lay the floor in 2A. He could have the girls’ new fridge put in the living room until the floor was set. But first he sent a short text to Olivia with the address of Glenn’s fishing cabin. It was quiet there. They could talk.
I should have done it earlier. I’ve been a coward. He supposed after tonight there would be one less mystery in his life.
At least I’ll know exactly what I did the night I spent with Olivia Sutherland.
Chapter Seven
Monday, September 20, 2:25 p.m.
Olivia frowned at the address David texted. It was a rural area twenty minutes away from the city. Why there?
“What’s wrong?” Kane asked.
“Oh, nothing.” She put her phone away and went back to studying the map of the lake. “We’ve covered the cabins with views of the condo. Nobody saw Tracey Mullen.”
“Or will admit to it. Something’s going on at the condo. Give me the field glasses.”
Olivia patted her pocket, then groaned. “I forgot them earlier. I handed them to David and forgot to get them back. I’ll get them for you tonight.”
He started to speak, then thought better of it. “I think the dog is here,” he said instead.
Olivia strained to see across the lake. “I wonder if it’s the arson dog or the SAR.”
They’d told Barlow the girl had been with a man before the fire started. He’d already called for the state’s arson dog but said he’d get a search-and-rescue team, too.
“Since we have no field glasses,” Kane said, “let’s drive over and find out.”
When they got to the condo, a search-and-rescue team stood ready to work. The dog was a German Shepherd and its owner a tall woman whose red hair hung down the middle of her back like a flame. Olivia knew only one person with hair that color.
“Barlow called Brie,” she said, satisfied. “I wasn’t sure he would.”
“That’s your doggy-day-care friend?” Kane asked, surprised.
“Yeah. Her real business is training dogs for search, rescue, and detection.” She sped up her pace. “Barlow and Brie and I all graduated from the academy together. For a while, we were all close.” The three of them and Barlow’s best friend, to be accurate. “Barlow and Brie used to be a couple. Engaged, actually.”
“Them, too?” Kane asked carefully. He rarely referred to her failed engagement and never referred to Doug by name, which was just fine by her.
“Them, too,” she said. “Engagement didn’t work out for them either. But Barlow knows Brie’s good. She did SAR before she left the force. Her dad’s a vet.”
“Dog vet or army vet?”
“Both. Takes care of the dogs in her training center and the day care in addition to his own practice. Mojo loves him, even when he’s getting a shot.” She waved. “Brie!”
Brie Franconi waved back. “Get a move on. GusGus is missing his soaps.”
When Olivia got close, she made the introductions and Brie shook Kane’s hand with a warm smile. “I’ve heard so much about you,” Brie said. “Good to finally meet you.”
“Likewise,” Kane said. “I seem to have heard a lot about you. Especially today.”
“Our female victim had a cochlear,” Olivia told her qu
ietly.
Brie’s bright brows went up. “That’s interesting.” Her speech was clear, mostly because she’d been deafened as an adult, but partly because the implant allowed her to continue hearing. Not as well as she had before, but well enough to function in the world she’d made for herself after leaving the force.
It had cut Brie deep, resigning her badge. Olivia couldn’t even fathom it. But she’d been there for her, as had Paige, who Olivia had drawn into their circle back in the academy days. I’m lucky, Olivia thought, thinking of Paige that morning. I have good friends. They’d gotten each other through many a tough patch. She thought about meeting David Hunter tonight. If it went badly, she might need her friends again.
“That’s how we ID’d her,” Kane said. “Serial number on the device. Very handy.”
“Good to know,” Brie murmured. “Just in case I ever get caught dead without ID.”
Kane grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean… hell. I’m sorry.”
Olivia elbowed her, hard. “She’s teasing you, Kane. Leave him alone, Brie.”
Brie’s brown eyes twinkled. “Sorry, Detective. I couldn’t resist.” Then Barlow walked up and Brie’s expression went bland. To strangers, they appeared professional, but Olivia knew that under Brie’s veneer, resentment toward Micah Barlow still brewed. “Sergeant Barlow says we may have another victim in the structure,” Brie said briskly.
“Perhaps. We’re not sure if he got away. If so, we want him as an eyewitness. If not, we need to identify his remains as well,” Kane said.
“But if he got away and we can track where the girl came from,” Brie said, “then you may be able to track your eyewitness.”
“Exactly.” Olivia looked at Barlow. “Did you get her clothing from the morgue?”
Barlow held up an evidence bag. “Can we check for the unidentified male’s remains first? One of the investigators is inside, Brie. He’ll walk you through.” His smile was tight. “Wouldn’t want you and GusGus to fall through any of the holes.”
“Thanks,” Brie said, whipping her bright hair back into a ponytail. She tightened her hold on the dog’s leash. “GusGus, time to work.”
She and the dog started into the building and Kane’s brows went up. “GusGus?”
Olivia smiled. “Yeah, like the mouse in the Cinderella cartoon. GusGus. He’s certified as a cadaver dog and SAR and a list of other things as long as your arm.”
Kane sighed. “She’s addicted to cartoons, too? What were they serving in the academy canteen when you all came through?”
“Cartoons can be brilliant social commentary,” Olivia said archly, knowing Kane was teasing. Mostly anyway. “And sometimes,” she added quietly, “it’s just escape.”
“That I’ll buy,” he replied, just as quietly.
Some women craved ice cream. When Olivia was stressed, a few episodes of the Road Runner relieved her tension. Something about that anvil crunching the Coyote’s umbrella made her laugh, every time.
She’d watched a lot of the Road Runner over the last seven months. It had become habit during the weeks of informing the families of the victims they’d found in the lime pit. Come home, walk Mojo, slide her “Best of Road Runner” DVD in the machine, then sit and stare at the screen until she’d fallen asleep.
Their killer had kept their driver’s licenses as souvenirs, making initial identification a lot easier. The killer had been quietly murdering women for decades.
Sometimes the families had moved. But focusing on details like tracking next of kin kept Olivia from focusing on the horror of finding the remains of victim after victim. At times it ran like a slide show in her mind. Bones, bones, and more bones.
The bones actually weren’t so bad. It had been the first bodies they’d pulled from the pit that had been the worst. Lime decomposed a body in a matter of days. But the killer had killed too many at the end. Decomposition was slowed for those final victims.
She briefly closed her eyes, remembering the rotting flesh. How it would simply… fall off the bones as the body was moved.
If there was a body in the burned-out condo, there wouldn’t be much left. It would look like them. Her anxiety returned in a harsh wave and with it, the fierce need to run away. But she didn’t, forcing herself to stand her ground. It would get easier. It had to.
She wondered how Kane coped, but he’d never shared, so she’d never asked. He’d just done his job. Like me. Because that’s what we do.
“We know where the arsonists exited,” Barlow said. “The arson dog sniffed a trail of accelerant to that door.” He pointed to a stairwell door, on the same side of the building as the window on which David had first spotted the girl’s shiny handprints.
“Did you find footprints?” Olivia asked, but Barlow shook his head.
“Only smudges. The arsonists stepped in the carpet adhesive and tracked it to the door. Unfortunately, the adhesive on their shoes picked up dirt, so the impressions aren’t crisp. No tread, no feel for shoe size even, although there do appear to have been two individuals.”
“So if we find their shoes?” Kane asked.
“You’ll find traces of the accelerant and the glue,” Barlow said. “If there’s any ash or dirt still mixed in with the adhesive, we’ll be able to match the composition to what we found here, so we can place them at the scene. The dog tracked the accelerant trail across the construction yard to that cut in the fence.” He pointed to one of the three slices in the fence that Micki had told them about, the one closest to the road.
“So they escaped by the road,” Kane said, frowning. “Not by the lake. Henry Weems’s killer shot him while standing between Henry and the lake.”
“I thought of that. The handler took the arson dog around the condo, including the area on the other side of the building where Henry Weems was shot. No accelerant on the ground, anywhere. His shooter might have left by the lake, but it’s equally possible he walked back around the building to join the others, escaping by the road.”
“So,” Olivia said, “whoever shot Henry didn’t step in the adhesive or was never in the condo to begin with.”
“Could have shot Henry, then gone into the condo to set the fire,” Kane theorized.
“If Weems inhaled no smoke, that’s a possibility,” Barlow said. “But if Ian finds smoke in his lungs, it would have to be after.”
“Ian’s doing the cut this afternoon,” Olivia said. “If Weems was killed after the fire started, and there were two arsonists inside, then we have at least three arsonists. The question is, were Tracey and her sex partner involved with them?”
“And is her sex partner still alive?” Barlow added.
“And if the arsonists came out through that side door,” Kane continued, “did they go in the same way? How did Tracey Mullen get in?”
“The side door lock hadn’t been tampered with,” Barlow said, “but that doesn’t mean anything. On a construction site, people prop doors open all the time.”
“That should have been something the guard checked, right?” Olivia asked.
“It was on his route. First stop would have been the camera console in the construction trailer, then a check of all the doors from the outside, then a walk around the perimeter. But Weems was struck as he exited the back door. He never got a chance.”
Olivia looked at Kane. “We gotta check him out,” she said. “Weems.”
Kane nodded. “I know. We can’t ignore that he might have known they were coming and they killed him to keep him quiet. Let’s pull his financials. But discreetly.”
“No need to add any more grief to the family unless we have to,” Barlow murmured. “Did you catch Weems’s daughter on the news?”
In his eyes Olivia saw the compassion she’d seen so often in the past. Except when I needed him most, and then he was an arrogant bastard. “What did she say?”
For a bittersweet moment it was like they were still friends. “She sang our praises, Liv.” He met her eyes then, held them. “She was stronger th
an I might have been, considering she’d just lost her father. I wouldn’t want to do anything I’d… regret.”
Olivia nodded. She’d lost her own father the same night her friendship with Micah Barlow had crumbled into pieces. Because Barlow had been an arrogant, meddling bastard. Today, his words might be an apology, or the start of one. She’d have to see.
“We’ll be careful,” she said. “We just want to rule him out as an… accomplice.”
She could see he got her double meaning, just as she’d gotten his.
“Good enough.” Barlow looked away. “It’ll take Brie’s dog a while to cover the whole structure. I’ve got the personnel files for Rankin and Sons’ construction personnel in my car. We can go over them while we’re waiting. Maybe something will pop.”
Monday, September 20, 2:40 p.m.
“Thank you for coming, Mrs. Dent.” Mr. Oaks, the principal, signed to his mother, then threw Austin a harsh look. All three of them were deaf and their signing flew fast and in his mother’s case, very furious. “Your mother drove a long way.”
“Three hours,” his mother signed. “But this is a mistake. Austin doesn’t smoke.”
“The dorm RA smelled smoke this morning,” Oaks signed, “after the smoke alarm started flashing. When he went in Austin’s room, Austin had the lit cigarette in his hand.”
His mother’s face went pale. “Why, Austin? Just tell me why.”
Because I took Tracey to that condo. I wanted to take care of her.
Now she’s dead. And it’s my fault. The stairwell had been full of smoke. She was behind me. I know she was behind me. He’d made it outside, but Tracey hadn’t.