by Jana DeLeon
Shaye could tell he was both excited and nervous as she peeled the paper back and got her first glimpse of what was inside. Her mouth dropped open and she gasped.
It was an ink drawing of Shaye, Corrine, and Eleonore from about chest up. They faded into each other and a background of tiny spirals that formed flowers and hearts. The detail was so incredible it had literally taken her breath away. She’d seen some of Hustle’s work and knew he was talented, but this exceeded what she’d thought him capable of.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“No. I love it,” she said. “It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. Hustle, this is amazing.”
He flushed and stared at the ground before looking back up at her. “I didn’t want to get something off the shelf, you know. Not like you can’t get anything you want anyway. Then I started thinking about everything I’ve gone through and the things I’ve seen, and I always came back around to you and then your moms and Ms. Blanchet. Y’all are the most amazing people I’ve ever met. You do things for other people that no one else can do. So I thought I’d draw the three of you.”
Her eyes, which had misted up a bit earlier, now went full tear overload and she hugged him again. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” she said as she released him.
His face broke out into a smile so big, it must have strained his muscles, and Shaye’s chest clenched once more for the street kid who’d helped her save lives and stolen her heart. She sniffed and wiped her eyes as she smiled.
“Well, since we’re exchanging gifts, I guess I should give you yours. I’m afraid it requires you to pick it up as it wasn’t quite ready earlier, and it was too big to wrap.”
She pulled a small box with Christmas decorations on it out of her purse and handed it to him. He gave her a curious look before pulling the top off the box. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped when he saw the car keys inside.
“No way! There’s no way!”
“Saul can’t chauffeur you around forever,” Shaye said, “and to hear him tell it, if he continues to ride with you, he’s going to have a heart attack. You need a way to art school and you can’t exactly haul canvas around with your skateboard. The car is a Honda CR-V. It will get decent gas mileage and will give you the room you need for your art and supplies. If you take care of it, the vehicle will last you a long time.”
He stared at her for several seconds, and Shaye could tell he was at a loss for words. Finally he lunged forward and threw his arms around her and started twirling her around. She laughed until he released her and he stared at the box again, then looked back up at her, fighting back tears.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said. “You’ve given me so much and this is so huge. I could draw you a picture every day for the rest of my life, and I still couldn’t repay you.”
“The only payment I need is for you to get your education and become a responsible, successful adult. You’re a good investment. One day I might get old and need you to drive me around.”
“I’d absolutely do that. I’ll do it now if you want.”
“I’m good for now, but I do have a favor to ask.”
“Are you kidding? Anything.”
She pulled the drawing Wanda had done out of her purse. “I’m trying to find this girl, and I think she might be on the streets. Have you seen her before?”
Hustle took the drawing and studied it. “Good detail. She looks like a girl I’ve seen in the warehouse district, but I can’t be certain. I wasn’t over there very often.”
“Where would you recommend I start looking for her?”
“Is she in trouble?”
“Yeah, I’m afraid so. She might be the only witness who can identify a serial killer.”
“Oh man. Try Julia Street. I’m pretty sure I saw her around the galleries, if it’s the same girl. You want me to come with you? She might not talk to you.”
Shaye shook her head. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re looking more suburb these days than street.”
Hustle looked a little pained. “I still know the lingo.”
“I appreciate it, but this is as close as I want you to this guy I’m looking for.”
He nodded, but she could tell he wasn’t happy. “Be careful. I know it’s your job and if it wasn’t, I probably wouldn’t even be alive, much less living like I do. But I know how it is, more than most.”
“I promise I’m being careful.” With any luck, he’d never hear about her being shot at. She still had to share that bit of information with her mother and was seriously considering working it in between glasses of Christmas champagne.
“Listen to the young man,” Saul said. “You’ve already tangled with more than your share of bad guys. You let the police handle one for a change.”
“Will do,” she said, and gave Saul a hug. “Merry Christmas.”
Jackson hit the Pause button on his laptop and looked across the desk at Grayson. Maxwell had given them the go-ahead to join his investigation but unfortunately, what he needed were solid leads. So they were officially digging through the haystack for a needle. Maxwell had acquired as much security footage as available from shops surrounding Madison’s building and on the route where the killer had threatened her. Now they were going through them, second by painful second, hoping to latch onto something that launched the investigation forward.
“You got anything?” Jackson asked, even though he knew that if Grayson had found anything relevant, he would have already said so.
“Per instructions, I’ve captured headshots of every guy who might fit our description and who isn’t carrying shopping bags. You realize this is the worst possible time of year for this. We’re looking for an average white guy with brown hair, wearing a hoodie, and standing around without any discernable purpose. That describes half of New Orleans out shopping with their wives. Hell, it describes me last weekend.”
“Yeah,” Jackson said, and threw his pen on the desk. “I’ve sent at least forty images through facial recognition but I’ve got nothing except some DUIs and a couple of warrants for parking tickets.”
“Same here. And honestly, I don’t expect to find anything. If this guy is a serial offender, he’s going to be extra careful about things. He’s not likely to have a record.”
Jackson nodded. Grayson was right. The successful ones kept a low profile when it came to law enforcement. It’s one of the reasons they got away with it for so long.
“What about that street kid that he got to courier that package for him?” Grayson asked. “I know Maxwell alerted patrol, but we both know the street kids disappear when cops are around. Did Shaye have any luck running down her location?”
“Hustle said it might be a girl he’s seen in the warehouse district and told her to check around Julia Street. She’s headed over there now.”
Grayson sighed. “Then I guess I better start putting together a compilation of these images in case Shaye finds that girl and convinces her to help. She’ll be here going through them until the new year, but I can’t think of any way to narrow them down more.”
Jackson couldn’t either. They were already screening for age and weight when pulling the images. But if you added additional screening options for the witness—assuming Shaye found her—it opened you up to eliminating the perp. Brown hair could become blond. Green eyes could become blue. Facial hair could come in a matter of days and be gone in a matter of minutes. Which left the potential witness with a whole lot of images to look through. And eyewitness testimony being what it was, there were no guarantees that anyone she identified was their guy, and that testimony was even sketchier in court. But at least it sometimes gave them a starting point.
Jackson’s phone rang and he saw the medical examiner’s number in the display.
“Lamotte,” he answered.
“Good morning, Detective,” the ME said. “I left a message for Detective Maxwell, but since you’re on the case now and worked the body, I thought you might like to kn
ow my findings.”
“Yes. Definitely.”
“COD was the slit on her neck. The description of the knife your witness gave fits the wound, so I’m okay with saying that was the murder weapon. She was already dead when she went into the water, but we’d already figured that.”
“So everything is what we expected.”
“Yes, except for a couple of surprises. The first is that Carla Downing was sexually assaulted. Postmortem.”
Jackson blanched but didn’t reply.
“Detective?” the ME asked.
“I’m here. Sorry, I’ve had a couple of cases, but it still gets me.”
“I understand. I had my own reaction during the exam.”
“It adds a new level of horror to the whole thing, that’s for sure.”
“Yes, well, the second surprise isn’t going to improve that any. Carla Downing was pregnant.”
Jackson clenched the phone. “You’re sure? Never mind. Of course you’re sure.”
“About two months along.”
Jackson thanked her and hung up. Well, they had one answer. Now they knew why Carla Downing was attempting to change her life.
21
Shaye circled the block and made her way back to Julia Street. She’d been driving the area for the last half hour but hadn’t seen anyone who came close to resembling the girl in Wanda’s drawing. Finding a kid living on the streets was never easy. They were wary of adults and outright scared of cops. Many ran away because of less-than-stellar situations at home. The last thing they wanted was an authority figure shoving them right back into that nightmare. Shaye had developed a reputation as someone who helped street kids, but that didn’t guarantee her an inside track on information.
And the reality was no one was better at hiding than street kids. If the girl didn’t want to be found, it would be very hard for Shaye to do so. She pulled the truck into an empty spot at the curb and got out. Maybe she’d have better luck on foot. If she could find any kids who appeared to be living on the street, she might be able to convince them to give her information on the girl in the drawing, especially if she told them the girl was in danger.
She walked down the block, checking the alleys for someone to talk to, but all she saw were adults, hustling around, trying to get home early or pick up one last-minute gift. Her phone signaled an incoming text and she pulled it out of her pocket to look. It was from Jackson.
Heard from the ME. Not good. Sexual assault postmortem.
Shaye clenched the phone. She’d been operating off the theory that the killer had some psychosis based on past trauma, perceived or real, but this wasn’t welcome news. It was a small percentage of people who traveled down the road of necrophilia, and they were the most damaged of the lot.
And Carla was two months pregnant.
Shaye felt her chest constrict. No wonder the woman had been making changes for real this time. She was going to have a baby. Was it Rattler’s? she wondered. And if so, did he know? She was inclined to think that the baby was probably Rattler’s and he didn’t know anything about it at all. Probably because Carla didn’t want him to know. That way, any plans she made wouldn’t require his involvement, and the last thing Rattler needed to be involved in was raising a child.
I guess we have one answer.
She pressed Send.
Yeah, but not the one we need. Any luck on finding the girl?
She sighed.
No. Still looking but not hopeful. And have to be at my mom’s house at five.
10-4.
She could beg off, but for what purpose? She wasn’t any more likely to find the girl tonight than she was tomorrow. In fact, with the streets mostly empty due to people being home celebrating with their families, it was even less likely she’d find the girl. Street kids liked crowds they could work for the money they needed to live. Tonight, the French Quarter would start to empty out, and tomorrow it would be a ghost town. All she could do was hope the girl was safe. That she had taken some money, delivered the package, and never seen the killer again. Because he had to know the risk of leaving her walking around. She would be hard to find and it might take a long time, but it wasn’t impossible.
At the end of the block, she started to turn around and head the other direction when she saw a delivery truck across the street and Casey Dugas standing behind it, talking to another guy. She took a closer look and realized the other guy was Jason Parks. They appeared to be engaged in some sort of disagreement, which was interesting because the truck was parked in front of an art gallery, so it was doubtful the argument was over a delivery for Parks.
She watched as Jason shook his head, then finally whirled around and stalked off down the street. Casey opened the back of the truck and pulled out his phone, probably checking the delivery. She crossed the street and walked up behind him.
“Lots of last-minute gifts, I see,” she said.
He started, then turned around. “Oh, hi. Yeah, lots of people scheduled for today. I’m trying to hurry, but they’ll still all be complaining about how long it took.”
“I saw you talking to Jason Parks a minute ago. How do you know him?”
“Oh, he stays at the motel sometimes.”
“He doesn’t have a place?”
Casey shrugged and looked away. “I guess. I don’t know really.”
“Is something going on with Jason?”
Casey sighed. “Look, I think the place he used to live was condemned. Sometimes the police do sweeps and they run him off. He stays in empty apartments sometimes in that building he works in…and I think maybe he’s stayed in some of them when the owners were out of town, which isn’t cool, but it’s not my business. I’m guessing he stays at the motel when he doesn’t have another option.”
Shaye nodded. “It looked like he was angry with you.”
“Yeah, well, I won’t let him have a room for free or give him a big discount. I told him he has to talk to Ray about that, but he thinks I’m blowing smoke up his ass.”
“Hopefully, he’ll figure it out. Good luck with your deliveries.”
“Thanks,” he said, and climbed into the truck.
Shaye turned around and headed off in the direction she’d seen Jason go, but after several blocks of walking, she finally gave up. If he had a vehicle, he could be miles away by now. Even on foot, he could have covered a couple blocks in any direction. Unless he was off from work, the most likely scenario was that he was on his way back to the apartment building.
The information she’d gotten from Casey concerning Jason’s residence matched up with what she’d learned from the background search, and Casey had confirmed Trenton Cooper’s suspicion that Jason was living in the empty apartments. The fact that he might also be staying in occupied ones when the residents weren’t there was troubling, but that wasn’t the most troubling aspect of all of it.
The most troubling thing was that Jason Parks stayed at the same motel as Carla.
Maybe she’d finally made the connection she’d been looking for. Now all she needed was motive. She hopped in Jackson’s truck and pulled out her cell phone. She wanted to make a play but needed Detective Maxwell’s okay to do it. He answered on the first ring.
“I’m running down a lead,” she said, “and I want to know whether I can reveal the murder and Carla’s identification.”
“I heard a few minutes ago that there will be a mention on the news tomorrow morning, so I don’t see any reason why not. The brass wanted to hold it until Christmas. Probably hoping it gets buried and no one decides to poke into it further.”
“Figures.”
“Who’s the target?”
“Jason Parks. Maintenance at the crime scene building.”
“I talked to him again yesterday and told him I was just wrapping up some details. The guy seems a little strange, but I didn’t get anything out of him that made me want to push. What’s his connection to Carla?”
Shaye repeated her conversation with Casey. “It doesn’t
prove anything, of course. He might never have met her, but given the proximity to the victim and access to the crime scene, combined with his reaction, it seems like something worth pursuing.”
“It’s as solid as the rest of the leads on this case. Except for the girl who delivered that package. Did you have any luck finding her?”
“No. The streets are packed with last-minute shoppers right now but they’ll start to clear and when the people go, those kids will fade into the shadows. I hate to say it, but I’ll probably have better luck after Christmas.”
“I agree. I just hope that kid is safe somewhere.”
“Me too. I’m on my way to talk to Parks now. I’ll let you know if I come up with anything.”
“I really appreciate your keeping me informed.”
“I don’t want to cause you any trouble with the brass. And more importantly, I want to get this guy. Madison’s life, and possibly mine, depends on it.”
“We’ll get him. I’m not giving up until we do. I didn’t tell you this, of course, but I interviewed Trenton Cooper yesterday as well.”
“And?”
“Jackson said you didn’t like him and I can see why. I thought telling him that a woman was murdered in his listing would punch a hole in that arrogant attitude of his but all he did was turn it up a notch. Said if I released the location of the crime, he’d sue the department and so on. Got himself really worked up, and then I asked him for an alibi and that stopped him short.”
“I bet.”
“He gave me the same story as you—that he was at his plantation fishing. The interesting thing, though, is that his car was ticketed that night in the French Quarter, about three blocks from the corner Carla worked.”
Shaye’s grip tightened on her phone. “Did you know that before you questioned him?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t going in there without all the ammunition I could get.”
“So what did he say when you hit him with that one?”
“Said it wasn’t his car. That the cop must have made a mistake on the license plate. But he was lying. I’m sure he’s smooth enough for real estate sales, but he’s not good enough to fool a cop. Not one with any experience, anyway.”