by Blake Pierce
He had, however, ended the call with a word of thanks for apprehending the man who seemed to be the killer. Even after being scolded, Kate couldn’t help but smile. It had been a rocky start, but her first case after coming back had finally wrapped up.
Or had it?
She continued to feel that finding the panties and the blood had seemed too easy. Julio had even admitted to having the panties in his gym bag—but the blood had seemed to throw him off. If she was in the interrogation room, she thought she might be able to read his expressions. She hadn’t been sure if the look on his face was a fear borne of guilt or of genuine shock at seeing the blood.
As she waited outside the room, Chief Budd came walking toward her from the front of the building. The two new agents from DC were walking in the other direction, looking to interview some of Julio’s co-workers. As for Budd, Kate was pretty sure he’d been with his PR people, drumming up a draft of a press release. It seemed that they were already pretty sure they had their guy. And while even Kate had to admit that it certainly looked that way, something was nagging at her.
It’s just too damned easy, she thought.
Budd approached her with a grin and extended his hand for a shake. “I understand you’re in some hot water with your supervisor,” he said. “That’s none of my business and quite frankly, I don’t care. I just wanted to thank you for cracking this thing. One more murder in that neighborhood and this place would have turned into a madhouse.”
She was about to respond to him when the door to the interrogation room opened. DeMarco came out, looking mostly satisfied but a little troubled. Kate looked at her watch and saw that DeMarco had been in there for twenty minutes.
“What’s your initial reaction?” Kate asked.
“Everything points to it being him,” she said. “The time lines up. There’s the sexual relationship to be considered. The blood in his bag…”
“And the gloves,” Kate said. “It would explain why we weren’t able to find any prints at the crime scenes. Does he have an alibi for between six and seven yesterday afternoon?”
“No. He says he left work, stopped at a WaWa for gas and to grab a snack. Says traffic was pretty bad so it took him a while.”
“So you think it’s him?” Kate asked.
“Like I said…it seems like it. Just the way he responded to me when I described the crime scene…he looked disgusted.”
“You have to get that blood tested as soon as possible,” Kate said. “And see if you can get some DNA off of the gloves. We should know with certainty if he’s the killer within twelve hours.”
“Seems like a lot of work to me,” Budd said. “As far as I’m concerned, this case is closed. Damned good work, ladies.” And with that, he gave them a little bow of appreciation and headed back the way he came.
“Duran feels the same way,” DeMarco told Kate when Budd was gone. “He texted while I was in there. He wants me back in DC tonight. The two new agents are to stay here and run clean-up.”
“How do you feel about that?” Kate asked.
“Weird. I don’t know…it feels too…too…”
“Easy?”
“Exactly,” DeMarco said.
They both looked back at the closed interrogation room door and didn’t say a word. Their tense silence, though, spoke volumes.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Kate knew better than to go against Duran’s wishes again. But at the same time, she could not just let the case rest if she felt it was still active—especially while local law enforcement was practically celebrating that it was seemingly closed.
So she met in the middle. She returned to her house after DeMarco started filling out the necessary paperwork at the police precinct. But she took her case files with her. She was wondering if she could find something that linked to Julio now that they at least had a profile to work from.
She threw a sandwich together and ate it at the kitchen table with the notes out in front of her. But no matter where she looked, she could find nothing that tied in to the personality Julio exhibited. She supposed it might come down to forensics—the slashing motions of the wounds in relation to Julio’s strength, hand preference, and so on. That, or the blood in his bag would indeed turn out to belong to Taylor Woodward and then that would be that. It would take a miracle for him to not be convicted of murder.
Kate pored over the same files she’d already scrutinized several times and found nothing new. She even pulled out the small stack of medical records that Budd’s men had pulled in the aftermath of the Thurmond case. Before being taken to her grandparents’, the daughter had spent a little time with the Department of Social Services. From what Kate could tell, they had requested the medical records—a standard practice if they weren’t immediately sure how long a child would be in their care.
Kate scanned these documents, sure that nothing would be there. She saw where Peter Thurmond had gone to the doctor two years ago for prostatitis. The daughter, Olivia, had gone a few months ago for what turned out to be strep throat. And it was there that Kate saw something she had missed before. It was small and insignificant but was still something.
Let it go, she told herself. Duran doesn’t want you on this anymore. He thinks you’ve already caught the killer. Stop grasping at straws.
Of course, Kate rarely took her own advice. She looked to the very small detail both she and DeMarco had overlooked. Underneath “Emergency Contacts” on Olivia’s form, there were two names and titles. One was Peter Thurmond – father. The other read Pamela Duncan – part-time nanny.
Well, that’s new, Kate thought. She looked at the number beside Pamela Duncan’s name and wasted no time. Before fully thinking things through, she called it.
Are you trying to get yourself in trouble? she asked herself.
She had no time to come up with an answer. The phone was answered just after the first ring. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Pamela Duncan?”
“It is.”
“Hi, my name is Kate Wise. I’m a consultant with the FBI.” A lie, sure…but not as bad as stating that she was still an active agent. “I saw in some of our background information that you are listed on Olivia Thurmond’s medical records as an emergency contact. Were you a nanny for the Thurmond family?”
“Every now and then, yes. Have you found who killed Lacy yet?”
“There is currently a suspect in custody but nothing is definitive yet. Ms. Duncan, I was wondering if you might be able to shed some light on what Lacy’s life was like. Maybe even the lives of some of her friends, too.”
“Have you talked to them yet? Lacy’s friends?”
“Yes. Her closest friends, anyway.”
Pamela hesitated for a moment before asking: “Where are you calling from, Ms. Wise?”
“I’m in Richmond. Your phone number indicates that you are, too.”
“Can you meet me in about an hour?” Pamela asked.
Kate found the request a little strange but she wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity. That old agent instinct was raising its head and sniffing the air. It seemed like there might be something there.
“Just tell me the place,” Kate said.
Pamela did, and Kate was back out the door fifteen minutes later.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
They met at one of Kate’s favorite little spots in Carytown, a place called the Galaxy Diner. It was the kind of trendy place that served fried pickles as well as gluten-free options. When Pamela Duncan took the seat across the table from Kate, she did not look nervous and reserved, as Kate had been expecting. Instead, she looked almost pleased to be there. She even smiled warmly at Kate as she sat down.
After a brief round of introductions, Kate wasted no time in getting to the center of the matter.
“How long did you work for the Thurmonds?” she asked.
“About eight months,” Pamela said.
“And what sort of work did you do? I ask only because I find it odd that a mother and
wife that stayed at home most of the time would need a nanny.”
“Well, about a year or so ago, from what I understand, Lacy had strongly considered going back to college. Some online courses, maybe a few classes at the community college. She’d had everything ready to go when I was hired. I was brought on to mainly just pick Olivia up from school, tidy up the house, prepare dinner. That sort of thing. I only worked about fifteen hours a week—twenty on busy weeks. And even when the college thing didn’t pan out, they kept me on for a few weeks. When they let me go, it was amicable. But they did ask if they could keep me in their contacts to call on me every now and then, and I agreed.”
“How long ago since they let you go?”
“About five months ago.”
“And did they ever call on your services afterwards?”
“A few times. Lacy never actually came out and said as much, but I got the feeling that she and her husband were having some rough patches. They planned these weekend getaways to try to work on their marriage. But as far as I could tell, Peter was cheating on her. He wasn’t very good at hiding it, either.”
“They apparently trusted you, right?” Kate asked. “You were put down on the medical records as Olivia’s emergency contact. Given that, why did you feel the need to speak with me in person?”
“Because Lacy’s really close friends…they were trouble, you know? They seemed like such sweet, beautiful women when I first met them. I’d see them here and there, coming to the house. I was there one day when all of them were sitting around the dining room, drinking wine. I don’t remember all of their names but there was one that openly admitted to cheating on her husband. And the others seemed to encourage it. It didn’t seem right, you know?
“But there’s something else…something that never sat right with me. And it’s sitting heavy on me now because of the murders.”
“What is it?” Kate asked. “Ms. Duncan, if you have something that you think might seem like a stretch, it could help. We do have a suspect currently in custody but nothing is set in stone yet.”
“The woman that died yesterday…last name was Woodward, right?”
“That’s correct.”
“Well, there was this one time that the husband—Daryl, I think his name is—came by the Thurmond home. He was looking for his wife, Taylor. He was really worried about her. Given that group of friends, I don’t blame him. He said he knew she was in some kind of trouble.”
“Did Lacy ever tell her husband about the incident?”
“No. I think she was scared to. Whatever trouble the Woodward woman was in, I think all of the women might have been wrapped up in it. Her husband was worried sick about her.”
“How long ago was this?” Kate asked.
“Maybe two months. Lacy had called me to pick Olivia up from school and take her to cheerleading practice. It’s fortunate that I even stopped by the house. I wanted to check in to see how things were going with Lacy.”
Kate thought back to the previous night, of how Daryl had been drowning in his grief. Usually spouses behaved that way when they felt they hadn’t done enough to stop the murder. Daryl must have suspected all along that Julio was the killer. And now he was too ashamed to say, as he didn’t act on his instincts and prevent it in time.
“Daryl was so worried about her, like to the point of almost crying in front of me. And then, two months later, she’s dead,” she added.
Kate finally felt certain: Julio was the killer, indeed. And now all she needed was for Daryl to confirm it, to tell her the entire story of exactly the type of man that Julio was.
***
Throughout the course of her career, Kate had come to firmly believe in the old saying “When it rains, it pours.” Her first little drizzle had come from the meeting with Pamela Duncan.
Her next drizzle came when her phone rang as she was headed back toward Amber Hills. She picked it up right away, not even bothering to check the caller display. “This is Wise,” she said, careful not to use the agent moniker.
“Agent Wise, this is Robert Smith from the coroner’s office. While we didn’t find anything conclusive on the body of Taylor Woodward, there was one detail I thought you might find interesting.”
“I’ll take whatever I can get,” Kate said.
She wondered why he was calling her but then assumed he had no way of knowing that she had been taken off the case.
“The punch to the face left a very small bruise, leading me to believe that it was more of a jab—almost a playful one—than a powerful punch meant to severely hurt the victim. From the punch alone, there are two things that I believe we can determine. First of all, given the placement and the angle, I think it’s safe to say that the killer is left-handed. Of course, any number of elements could prove me wrong but it seems very likely.”
“And the second thing?” Kate asked.
“There are no prints, indicating the killer wore gloves. However, there is a small indentation along the bruise. It’s barely visible at all to the naked eye but under the right lighting and magnification, it’s there: a shape that suggests the killer wears a ring on his left hand. Probably either the ring finger or pinky.”
“And if he’s throwing punches, the pinky wouldn’t leave much of an imprint, would it?”
“Likely not.”
“A ring on the left ring finger,” Kate said. “So the killer was married?”
“I’d say that’s a safe bet,” Smith said.
Julio, she knew, wore a wedding ring. And a pinky ring.
“Thanks for this,” Kate said. She got a warm fuzzy feeling in her gut and her heart started pumping a bit faster. She ended the call and immediately pulled up DeMarco’s number.
She answered after three rings. DeMarco sounded irritated and a bit tired. “Hey, Wise,” she said. “If you’re calling for updates, there are none. Duran and the local PD are hanging on the assumption that Julio Almas is our guy.”
“Well, I just got a call from the coroner with an early report on Taylor Woodward’s body. So tell me something…is Julio right-handed or left-handed?”
“I’m actually not sure. I never bothered looking.”
“You still at the PD?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Find some bullshit form and take it in there for him to sign. Tell him he’ll be released soon after. Pay attention to which hand he signs with.”
“Okay…” DeMarco said, a hint of intrigue in her voice. “Give me a second.”
“I’ll hold.”
Kate listened to the sound of movement from DeMarco’s end. She heard the faint voices of the policemen in the background, the place still in a bit of an uproar from the morning’s excitement. She was ready to put to rest her doubts about Julio Almas.
Three minutes passed. She was ten minutes away from the gates an Amber Hills when DeMarco came back on the phone.
“He signed it,” DeMarco said. “He’s a lefty. Why? What have you got?”
Kate sighed.
“Nothing,” she said. “Just bad instincts, I guess. Or worn-out ones. Maybe there is a wisdom in retiring at 55. You’ve got your man. It’s Julio.”
She hung up and sighed. Maybe she was getting too old for this.
It was time to put all this to bed, once and for all. To find out the entire truth about Julio. And Daryl, she suspected, held the key.
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
Kate wondered if Daryl was able to bring himself to go back home after the murder of his wife. There was no real timetable for grief; some would wait weeks before returning to the home where a loved one was killed while others had no problem with returning right away.
When she pulled up in front of the house, she saw Daryl’s mother sitting in a rocker on the front porch. She eyed Kate when she got out of the car and started up the sidewalk.
“Hello again,” Kate said as pleasantly as she could. “Is Daryl home?”
“He is,” the mother said. “But he’s very tired and understandably ups
et.”
“I understand,” Kate said. She approached the porch and slowly climbed the stairs. She then spoke in a low conspiratorial voice, hoping to sway the old woman. “This is not public knowledge yet, but we have a potential suspect in custody,” she said. “If I could speak with him in private for no more than ten minutes, it could help us ensure that we do indeed have the right man.”
Daryl’s mother seemed happy at the news, nodding her appreciation. “Okay,” she said. “He’d like that, I think. He feels helpless right now. Maybe this will give him a sense of purpose. Would you please let him know I’m going to run to the pharmacy to pick up my prescription?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Kate entered the house at the same time Daryl’s mother walked to the car in the driveway. As the screen door closed behind Kate, she could hear Mrs. Woodward’s car cranking to life.
“Excuse me?” Kate called out. “Mr. Woodward? It’s Kate Wise again. Your mother said it was okay if I come inside.”
“Of course,” he called out from elsewhere in the house. “I’m back in the kitchen.”
Kate followed the sound of his voice through the foyer and down the small hallway. The house had a mostly open floor plan so she was able to see the kitchen immediately. She saw Daryl arranging pastries and bagels on the counter. They were still in boxes, some of the pastries still steaming.
“Sorry to bother you again,” she said. “But I wanted you to know that we checked up on the cycling instructor. We found enough evidence to take him in.”
“It was him?” Daryl asked.
“We don’t know for sure, but we’re looking into it right now. Looks like it could be a strong possibility. I hope you understand that even as the husband of a recent victim, we can’t give you the strict details until an official arrest has been made.”