Heinous (Faces of Evil)

by Debra Webb

  “You’re still having trouble keeping your end of our deal, Lieutenant. I need you to be more proactive.”

  Hayes studied Dan a moment. “I guess you’ll have to talk to my boss then because she has her own ideas about what I need to do.”

  That was certainly an about face from his attitude only a few days ago, and not the answer Dan wanted to hear. “Are you saying you can’t find a way to stay close to her?”

  Dan needed to ensure Jess’s safety. Wells and Harper were damned fine detectives but they were also Jess’s friends. He worried about their emotional involvement clouding their judgment. He wanted someone totally focused on Jess’s safety.

  “I’m saying,” Hayes maintained, “I like my job and I want to keep it.”

  “You won’t lose your job. I’ll see to that.”

  “Can you make that guarantee, Chief? The way I hear it, you may be losing yours.”

  Fury swept through Dan before he could block it. He tolerated the man’s insolence because they both knew what he was demanding fell into a gray area. Dan’s method for prompting compliance was coercion, plain and simple. The smart thing would be to dial it back a notch, but this wasn’t about being smart, it was about keeping Jess safe.

  “Can you do the job or do I need to find someone else? Transfers happen every day, Lieutenant. I can see that you’re moved back to Admin as easily as I facilitated your move out.”

  Anger glittered in the other man’s eyes, but to his credit, he held it in check. “I will find a way to do the job.”

  “Then go do it, Lieutenant.”

  When Hayes was gone, Dan collapsed into his chair. For the first time in his life, he had no idea how to slow this plunge toward disaster.

  6

  9911 Conroy Road, 7:10 p.m.

  Jess stood back and studied the case board she had made on the expanse of blank wall in her apartment. Her colleagues at the Bureau had always considered her odd for having what she referred to as a homework board. Most people wanted to forget work when they went home. Not Jess. She’d never been able to turn it off that easily.

  Amanda Brownfield and her body farm took up a good portion of the wall space behind Jess’s sofa. Next to those haunting photos was one of Amanda’s mother, several more of the property with its dozens of open graves, and then one of Maddie, the four-year-old daughter Amanda had abandoned.

  Jess touched the little blond girl’s face. Would she have a little girl? Would she be a good mother? Wasn’t motherhood instinctive? What if she didn’t possess those instincts? For two decades, her instincts had been so honed in on murder, maybe she was no longer capable of that softer nature. She needed a long talk with Lil. With two kids of her own, Lil had the experience that Jess was sorely lacking. Giving herself credit, she had done pretty well with Maddie. That showed potential, didn’t it?

  Jess’s attention settled on the photo of her father she’d added to the wall only moments ago. She refused to grant any merit to Amanda’s suggestion that they shared a father or that he was a killer. They couldn’t possibly have any genes in common. Unlike Amanda, Jess had never wanted to harm another human being or animal. The only times she’d ever fired her weapon was when she’d had no other choice. DNA would rule out Amanda’s ludicrous claim soon enough.

  If her father had gotten involved with the Brownfields, Jess was absolutely certain he wasn’t a killer any more than she was. This was another of Spears’s illusions to distract her.

  Distraction was dangerous. Spears’s current tactics kept the investigators who were supposed to be looking for him busy tracking down other killers and sorting through evidence that led back to Jess rather than to him.

  You couldn’t find what you weren’t looking for.

  Spears counted on that fact. He was a master at diversion.

  Jess moved on to the next photos on her wall. The condemned home in Irondale where Jess and Lily had lived with their parents. Spears had left her a welcome home message there. She should have expected more to come about her past. Her career was all she’d had to lose when this thing with Spears started. When he helped to destroy her career at the Bureau, he hadn’t expected her to bounce back so quickly. Thanks to Dan, she had. She’d built a new career and life in Birmingham.

  Spears had failed, but he wasn’t letting go that easily. He’d turned his attention to her new vulnerabilities: Dan and the child she carried. Like any good strategist, he intended to use those vulnerabilities to achieve his end game. He’d also latched onto how precious the few memories she had of her parents were to her. He’d searched until he found something from her past to exploit.

  The accident that took the lives of their parents had always haunted Jess and her sister. The four foster homes had been nightmares in their own right. Her gaze rested on the photo of the Comer Bridge where her parents had died. She hugged herself, feeling cold just remembering the dark water.

  She studied the photo of Reverend Henshaw Lori had taken from the DMV database, and then the one from the crime scene where he’d basically been crucified. She wrestled with the emotion that wanted to clog her throat. Why would Spears target him aside from Henshaw’s vague connection to her? She hadn’t seen him in over thirty years. Could Henshaw have known something about her father? Where did the key fit into the puzzle?

  According to what Harper had found so far, Henshaw hadn’t been home in two months. There was nothing at his house the key would fit and his cell phone was missing.

  Where had the reverend been for the past two months? Staying with a friend? On an extended vacation? No one Harper had questioned had the first clue. The wedding chapel coordinators said he’d performed a ceremony for them last month. They’d called his cell and he had shown up.

  Jess stepped closer, adjusted her glasses, and studied Henshaw’s photo. “Where have you been, Preacher Gordon?” The fact that he’d gone missing about the same time she returned to Birmingham was significant.

  Across the room, her cell clanged. Jess tossed aside the tape she’d been using to post photos and shuffled to the kitchen table. She checked the screen of her cell. Corlew. “About time.” She hit accept. “Where have you been? I’ve left you three voicemails.”

  “Hello to you too, kid.”

  Jess rolled her eyes. Buddy Corlew was the only person on earth who called her kid. Since he was barely one year older than her that hardly made her a kid compared to him. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day.” Patience was not one of her virtues. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  “You’ve got me now. What’s up?”

  He intended to ignore her not so subtle accusation, did he? Setting aside her frustration, she launched into the long list of updates for the man who was supposed to be looking into the crash that killed her parents as well as the trouble Dan was having at the BPD.

  “Hell,” Corlew growled. “What did Spears have to say this time?”

  “This is where it began, Jess, and this is where it will end.” She wandered back to the board and stared at the copy of the note Lori had printed for her. No matter that she’d read it twenty times, she shivered.

  “He’s trying to keep your head spinning, Jess. You know his tactics and motives better than anyone.”

  Her old friend was right, to a degree. Spears was far too confident to be so wrong. Somewhere amid all this bombardment of evidence from her past was something, he believed to be earthshaking. Jess knew him too well to doubt it.

  “It’s more than that, Buddy. Eric Spears is a sociopath. He believes he’s more brilliant than any of us. Every time he makes a move and we don’t catch him, he wins. His moves are carefully planned to ensure success. He thinks he knows something I don’t about my father.” She hated this feeling of uncertainty. “Is he right?”

  Corlew laughed, the sound strained. “He’s making you paranoid, kid. The picture of your old man, this Amanda chick, I’m not convinced any of it’s real.”

  “I guess we’ll know soon enough.” Jess rubbed at th
e tension lining her forehead. “Sylvia’s doing the DNA.”

  “Good idea. Put your mind at ease. When you have the results, you’ll see this is just another diversion Spears has hatched up.”

  Funny, he didn’t sound all that convinced. “There was a retired ABI agent, Randall McPherson, who stopped at the scene today. I tried to talk to him, but he wasn’t interested in discussing my parents’ accident.”

  A beat of silence. “McPherson. I’ve heard of him. I had a client up in Scottsboro when I first started out as a PI. I interviewed the guy once.”

  “What’s his story?” Buddy was keeping something from her. Jess heard it in his voice.

  “You know the type. He has his own way. To hell with everyone else.”

  Jess wasn’t buying it. “He knows something, Buddy. You know something you’re not telling me.”

  “What I know is something’s off, Jess. I’ll talk to McPherson. I can’t guarantee he’ll tell me anything—if he knows anything—but I’ll rattle his cage.”

  “Your BPD source told you there was a police report on the accident. We couldn’t find it. Why is that?”

  “I guess he made a mistake. It happens.”

  They were going to have a meeting soon. She wanted to see his face when he answered her questions. Maybe she was overreacting, but she had the distinct impression Buddy was hiding something from her.

  Jess cleared her head and moved on. “What about the key?” Spears never wasted time or effort on insignificant details.

  “I showed the photo you sent me to a picker friend of mine. He knows his junk. Travels all over the country buying antiques like those two guys on TV. He says it’s a key to a music box, possibly a jewelry box. Did you or Lily have a music box as kids? Maybe your mom?”

  A tune whispered through her. Jess reached for the sofa to steady herself. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember more. Nothing but a few notes from a tune that may or may not have been from a music box would come to her. The idea of a music box felt right.

  “I think my mother had one. I’m not certain.”

  “Did Henshaw visit your home often? Would he have had access to your mother’s things?”

  Jess stared at the photo of the man. “I’m not sure.” Her memories of those years were few and vague but always happy. Had she blocked the bad ones? Repressing bad memories as a child was a common defense mechanism. This was another reason she needed to speak with Lily soon. She couldn’t keep protecting her sister from all this. Lil would accuse Jess of doing exactly what she hated other people doing to her—protecting her. And her sister would be right.

  “Don’t worry about McPherson, Jess. I’ll handle him. Stay on the preacher and the key.”

  “What about your source in the department? Anything new there?” Something helpful, hopefully.

  “He’s avoiding me like the plague. I have a feeling he’s being watched and can’t risk contact. Black’s got Dan’s case locked up tight as a drum.”

  He. “Are you ready to give me a name yet?”

  “How about that Crimson Tide? They stomped all over Mississippi State on Saturday.”

  Jess rolled her eyes. “I didn’t catch the game, Corlew. I was neck deep in dead bodies.”

  “I can’t give you anything else on Danny boy, but know that I’m on it. I’ll track down McPherson tomorrow and get back to you.”

  “You better. Don’t make me have to hunt you down, Buddy Corlew.”

  “Don’t tease me, Jess. My heart can’t take it.”

  The call ended and Jess tossed her phone aside. The man might be her oldest friend but he drove her crazy most of the time. Since he was the best PI in Birmingham and one of the few people she trusted, she just had to deal with his eccentric ways.

  She needed air. Where was Dan? He should be home by now. She dragged off her glasses and left them on the dining table. The empty dining table. Jess winced. She’d been so focused on the homework board she’d forgotten about dinner. At some point, she absolutely had to learn to make food a priority and chocolate didn’t count. She was pregnant for heaven’s sake!

  This morning was a textbook example. She’d expected to have breakfast with Wendell Jones before heading to Scottsboro, but murder had knocked the promised meeting off her calendar. At least when she’d called to cancel their scheduled monthly breakfast meeting, Jones had given her an update on DeShawn Simmons, a young man she’d rescued from kidnappers last month. DeShawn was off to college, fulfilling the hopes and dreams of his grandparents. After that, the day had gone downhill and Jess had grabbed fast food on the run. Good thing she always carried a stash of M&Ms as back up.

  “Way to achieve a healthy diet, Jess,” she grumbled. She pressed her palm to her belly. “I promise to do better.” She should ask Sylvia and Gina about cooking classes. Lil would scold her and say there was only one way to learn: trial and error.

  Jamming her feet into her flip-flops, she scrolled through her contacts until she found the number for the neighborhood pizza place that delivered. By the time she reached the landing outside her door, two large pizzas with the works were ordered and charged to her credit card. She shoved her cell into the back pocket of her jeans and descended the stairs, waving to the uniforms watching her place. The least she could do was order pizza for them, too.

  Across the driveway, her landlord, George Louis, watered flowers. Guilt made her walk over and say hello. She wasn’t used to having a neighbor so involved in her daily life. She’d owned the house in Virginia for almost ten years and hadn’t known her neighbors’ names. There was no way of avoiding interaction with George Louis. Dan called him nosy. Jess felt certain he was simply lonely. Long retired, he filled his days with yard work and keeping his home in tiptop shape.

  “Good evening, George. I ordered pizza, would you like to join us for dinner?”

  He glanced at the driveway, noting the absence of Dan’s car. “Thank you, Jess. I’ve had dinner already. It’s very kind of you to think of me. Is Dan working late again?”

  “Unfortunately.” Jess shifted the topic. “You’re practically the only person in the neighborhood whose flowers haven’t surrendered to the heat. They’re still beautiful.”

  “I don’t neglect my duties,” he said with a hum of agreement. “Once they’re planted, I pay proper attention to their needs. Water, fertilizer, and such. A man should never plant or build anything he can’t properly maintain.”

  “Well, they’re lovely, George.”

  “Will Dan be building or buying a new house?”

  “Buying, I think. We looked at a house in Mountain Brook last night but I’m sure we’ll be considering many others.”

  George turned his attention back to his flowers. “I suppose, when the time comes, you’ll be moving with him.”

  George was lonely. Of course, he would hate seeing her go. Then again, after all the drama she’d brought to his life, he might be glad.

  “You’ll be the first to know when we find something.”

  “I’ll miss you, Jess.”

  The words were so desolate she couldn’t help but feel bad for him. She mustered a smile. “I’ll only be in another neighborhood, not another city.”

  He tinkered with the water hose nozzle. “You’ll probably forget all about me.”

  “Impossible.” Jess laughed. “You’re a good friend.”

  Dan arrived and her pulse quickened. “Come on over if you change your mind about the pizza,” Jess offered as she backed toward the driveway.

  George nodded without looking up.

  Jess stalled a few yards from the rental to watch as Dan got out. Her heart skipped a little beat. It was silly, but she had no control over the reaction. He’d always had that effect on her.

  As weary as he looked, the smile that appeared just for her squeezed her chest. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “Pizza’s on its way.” She fell into step with him, suddenly in a hurry to get inside so she could put her arms around him. “Did Blac
k give you a hard time?”

  Dan shrugged. “He did his job.”

  “It’s over now.” Jess wished the Allen investigation were resolved. Captain Allen was in all probability dead. Whatever he’d done, he’d crossed the wrong drug lord. You didn’t mess with a man like Salvadore or Leonardo Lopez and walk away. They might never find Allen’s body or know who killed him.

  Inside, door locked and security system rearmed, Jess helped Dan out of his jacket. She pushed her arms around his neck and kissed him. Whatever else was wrong in their lives, this was right.

  Dan’s lips curved into a smile against hers. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

  “Me, too.” She ushered him to the sofa. “Sit. You need a beer.”

  “Does that mean you have something to tell me that I don’t want to know?”

  Jess smiled at him over the fridge door. “Potentially.”

  She had been debating whether to tell him about Amanda’s claims or not. Why burden him with that worry before the allegations were corroborated. At some point between finding that photo of her father and tonight, Jess had realized her reasoning was wrong. How could she demand that he stop being over protective of her if she was doing the same thing to him?

  No, it was more than that. As much as she hoped Amanda’s claims about her father were false, the very idea that her father may have led a secret life—keeping his wife and children in the dark and placing them in danger—was disgraceful. Jess didn’t want to ever hurt Dan like that, no matter the reason. It was time she told him the part in all this she’d kept to herself.

  She grabbed a beer and headed back to the sofa.

  He took the cold bottle from her hand, set it aside, and pulled her down next to him. “I’d really like another of those welcome home kisses first.”

  Something about how he said the words stole her ability to speak. Careful of the healing injury on his forehead, she took his face in her hands and pulled his mouth down to hers. She kissed him gently, until her lips started to tremble, and then she kissed him harder. His arms went around her and he lifted her onto his lap. She wanted the kiss to last forever but the burn of tears warned that she’d better take a moment to pull herself together.