“Not that I know of. Jonah’s weekends away were always private after his wife died. He didn’t date much, if at all. He was all about his work. Russ was young, smart but only about computers. He didn’t care about the science end of Butcher-Payne, only the computer end. I’ve been going over his files, and nothing jumps out at me.”
“Where did Larkin go to college?”
“Fresno State. Graduated in 2003, worked for the state for two years, then I hired him for an insurance company we consulted for in 2005. It was in Fresno, and he wanted to move up here, so I was looking for something for him, and Butcher-Payne needed an I.T. guy when they expanded in 2006. He’s been there since.”
“Why did Larkin want to move to Sacramento?”
“I don’t know. Probably job opportunity. He was from a small town in the central valley, and Sacramento is a lot more appealing than Fresno.”
“Could he have been seduced?”
“Into what—giving away security codes? I don’t think so. He didn’t seem the type to be so naive.”
“But if he was involved with a woman, maybe she had access and he didn’t know.”
“Possible, but that doesn’t explain how the killer knew about the test code. When I trained Russ, we did it on-site. There’s nothing written down.”
“He didn’t write anything down?”
Duke considered that. It was possible, sure, but after all this time … “I don’t know.”
Dressler came back with a box. “Sign this.” He used his chin to gesture to the slip of paper on top.
One (1) HP Laptop Model 8730 recovered from passenger seat, in leather case.
Two (2) Flash drives, 2 MB. Blue: in center console. Green: in pocket of leather case of laptop.
One (1) Wallet, black, leather, initials RAL embossed on front. Contents: California Driver’s License D-0009874 Russell Anton Larkin, Roseville. $67 cash. VISA check card from Golden 1 Credit Union. VISA Credit Card from Chase. Shell Gas Card. Three wallet photos. Membership card, fitness center. Starbucks card. Medical card. Electronic security card, unmarked, blue. One blank check number 988 in victim’s name and address. Three receipts: Shell Gas, Roseville CA dated 9/26/09 for 14.5 gallons; Starbucks #NV731 time-stamped 10:05 a.m. 9/27/09 for $9.55; Shell Gas, Reno NV dated 9/27/09 for 7.6 gallons, time-stamped 11:58 a.m.
One (1) backpack, dark green. Contents: T-shirt, jeans, socks, underwear, toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, prescription Motrin filled 7/17/09 at Raley’s Pharmacy, Roseville, Dr. Booth; disposable razor.
One (1) Key ring with five (5) keys. One key for Honda Civic, registered to vic; four keys unknown.
One (1) day planner, rubber-banded.
“Thank you for your diligence,” Nora said as she signed the receipt. They each kept a copy.
Duke barely heard her. He was reading the list carefully and was itching to open the planner, head over to the Starbucks to see if anyone remembered Russ, and crack open his laptop. Something was here, he had to find it.
“Don’t break the chain of evidence,” Dressler admonished.
“I’ll be careful,” Nora said, taking the box.
They walked back to Sara Ralston. Nora said, “Can you ride him and see what you get from the car? Prints, fibers, anything. If you think we need to take anything to Sacramento, let me know and I’ll get my ASAC on it. We have an escalating serial killer on our hands, and time is critical.”
“I love getting to play the big, bad fed,” Sara said. “And getting out of the damn smoky casinos for the next few days? I owe you one.”
“You can pay it back now—” Nora opened the box, pulled out the individually bagged receipts. “Where’s this Starbucks and this Shell station?”
“Easy. The Shell station is five or six blocks down East Forty-third, right at the exit.” She pointed to the intersection. “The Starbucks—that’s the one closest to the state university. Hop on the freeway, head east, take the next exit, and I think this street runs right into the main drag. Before you hit the entrance, it’s a one-way street on your right.”
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Nora and Duke swung by the gas station first; the owner, likely from India, based on his thick accent and appearance, had been working on Sunday, but either didn’t understand Nora’s questions or didn’t remember the man in the blue Ford Explorer who came in Sunday morning. He did, however, understand her badge. When she pointed to the security cameras, he brought them around to his side of the counter to show them four black-and-white televisions, which showed static angles of the two gas pumps, the bathroom entrance, and a wide shot of the inside of the small convenience store.
Duke inspected the equipment and shook his head. “It’s live feed. Not recorded.”
“Meaning there are no tapes?” Nora asked.
“Exactly.”
“What’s the point of having security if you don’t have recordings?”
“It’s supposed to be a deterrent, and to give the clerk an advance sign if there’s going to be trouble.”
“Seems shortsighted to me,” Nora mumbled.
They left the gas station and drove to the Starbucks where Russ had been only hours before his death. This neighborhood fit the image of a college town with several cheap restaurants, a few clothing stores, bookstores, and a large corner Starbucks with tables inside and out. It was noon and the sun beat down on the desert city. They stepped into the cool, air-conditioned Starbucks. It was busy, half full with mostly college students, some chatting, some working on laptops, some doing homework alone or in groups. The scent of coffee had Nora’s stomach growling.
“What do you want?” Duke asked.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Your stomach says you’re lying. My treat.”
“She should shut up.” She was mildly embarrassed that her hunger was audible. “Iced mocha, with whipped cream.”
“Nora has a sweet tooth.”
“Nora needs the sugar,” she replied with a half smile. When they reached the cashier, Duke ordered and Nora asked to speak to the manager.
Shortly after their drinks were served, a cute blonde, not more than twenty-five years old, approached. “Can I help you?” Her long hair was pulled back and she wore no makeup. The green apron was tied three times around her impossibly skinny waist. Her nameplate read Sandy, Assistant Manager.
Nora introduced herself and Duke and asked if they could speak with her in private.
“We don’t really have the space in back,” Sandy said. She motioned to a vacant table in the corner.
It would have to do. They sat and Nora asked quietly, “We’re interested in this man.” She pushed over a photograph of Russell Larkin that Duke had brought. It was his DMV photo, enlarged, and printed on quality photo stock.
She looked. “I don’t know. Should I know him? I see a lot of people, and he might look familiar, but he has a familiar face, you know?”
Larkin was average, clean-cut and pleasant-looking without being a standout. “He’s just over six feet tall and thin. He was here Sunday morning.”
“I don’t work weekends—let me grab the schedule and see who was on then.”
The girl jumped up and Nora sipped her iced mocha. Duke had gotten her the largest size. It hit her empty stomach and felt like heaven. She really needed to eat regularly. She told herself that all the time, but still rarely managed to eat two meals a day.
“Thank you.”
“Watching your face is thanks enough,” he said.
She didn’t quite know how to take the comment. Duke just grinned at her.
Sandy returned with a petite Asian girl named Summer. “Summer worked Sunday from opening until two,” Sandy said.
The girl looked at the picture with interest. “I remember him. He used his Starbucks card. It was one I hadn’t seen for a long time, two people in a car with a dog.”
Nora showed the card through the clear plastic evidence bag. “Like this?”
She frowned. �
��Yes. Is something wrong?”
Sandy was also concerned. “Do I need to call the regional manager?”
“No, this isn’t related to your business, but the owner of this card was murdered the day he came in here, and we’re retracing his steps.”
Summer put her hand to her mouth. “Oh no, that’s horrible.”
“The receipt shows that he ordered two drinks and pastries. Do you recall who he was with?”
“He came in alone, ordered the drinks, and went outside to the patio. We had our Sunday morning special, buy one, get one half off. He went out on the patio and I was at the register, so I couldn’t see him from my position, but about twenty minutes later we had a lull and I went out to wipe down tables. He was sitting with a girl.”
“A girl? What did she look like?”
She shrugged. “Brown hair, round face, very pretty.”
“Would you recognize her if you saw her?”
“Maybe, I don’t know. I think she’s been in here a couple times, but not recently, and maybe I’m wrong? I’m good with faces, but I tend to remember those who come in regularly.”
“Anything that stood out about her? Height, weight, a mole or anything else?”
“Not really. She was on the skinny side, but kind of turn-your-head gorgeous. She had big round eyes, I remember now. I think one of the guys was talking about her eyes. I wish I could help, but really, it’s just a vague memory.”
“You’ve done great,” Nora said. “How long were they here?”
“They were still there when I came back inside, and then gone next time I went out to straighten up, but that was at least thirty minutes later.”
Nora looked at the receipt. Russ Larkin bought the coffee just after ten in the morning. Approximately 10:30 a.m., Summer went out and saw him talking to an attractive brunette. By 11 a.m., they were gone.
“How did they act together?” Nora asked. “Friendly? Romantic? Upset?”
“I guess friendly. They weren’t laughing or fighting or anything, just having a conversation. Low-key.”
“Thank you for your time.” Nora handed her a card. “If you see the girl, or remember anything else, please call me as soon as you can.”
“I will.”
As Nora and Duke left, she said, “I’m going to have Sara Ralston follow up with the male staff, see if anyone has something more to add to Summer’s statement.”
In the car, Duke climbed in the passenger seat and held up two sandwiches. “Turkey or cheese and avocado?”
“You don’t look like a cheese and avocado guy,” Nora said, taking that sandwich. They’d parked under a shade tree and Nora rolled down the windows. A warm breeze tamed the sun.
“I wasn’t sure if you were a vegetarian or not.”
“No, but I love cheese and avocado.” She unwrapped her sandwich. “That was thoughtful of you.”
“You haven’t eaten all day. It has to be messing with your thought process. When I’m hungry, I can’t concentrate.”
“Does the pretty brunette ring any bells?” she asked Duke.
“No. I don’t know Russ that well.”
“He had an overnight bag.”
“Possibly—but he could have that with him all the time. I have an emergency kit in my car.”
“You do?”
“Don’t you?”
“Yes, but I’m a first responder. A requirement of my position.” She paused. “And sort of habit. We often moved when I was growing up, usually on the spur of the moment. Sometimes because my mother just felt like it, other times because we had to. I was used to traveling light and keeping what was important to me in my pack at all times.” And my bag with me at all times, too.
“That’s hard.”
“I was a verifiable bag lady.” She laughed humorlessly. “I grew up more or less homeless, not because my mom couldn’t work, but because she refused to. She did odd jobs here and there, but there were times when we lived in a place, usually with a group of people. She also had a scam going from county to county claiming to be a victim of domestic violence, so we could get a place for a couple weeks, she’d get a temporary job, and when she had enough money to split, we were off again on the next ‘adventure’ as she called it. Mostly she stole what she wanted and never felt a moment of guilt. I hated it.”
She put down the second half of her sandwich, her face flushed. “I can’t believe I told you all that.”
“I’m glad you did.”
Nora was angry with herself. She had sounded bitter, but she wasn’t. She’d come to terms with her past, and maybe that’s why she could speak of it to a virtual stranger. No, she was deceiving herself. While she’d accepted her past, it wasn’t something she discussed with anyone … just Duke. She felt comfortable with him, and she wanted him to know, to understand who she was. But here? Now? It wasn’t the place or the time.
“That was highly inappropriate.” She started the car. “I’ll attribute it to hunger.”
Duke took her hand and squeezed until she looked at him.
“Thank you for telling me.”
She smiled.
Yeah, she was glad she’d told him.
Duke watched Nora as they headed back toward Sacramento. Even as she expertly maneuvered the vehicle, he saw that she was lost in thought. Thinking about the past? About her cases? About this case? Maybe everything.
Up until their parents were killed, the Rogans had led a charmed life. They hadn’t been wealthy their entire life, but right before the twins were born, Duke’s parents, Paul and Sheila, ended up with a patent for law enforcement and military gear that went big.
Still, even before that change of fate, the Rogans always had a home. Duke was born and raised in the same house he still lived in. When they had the money, they remodeled the hundred-year-old farm-style house in Rancho Cordova. The area was known for tract homes and lower-income families, but the Rogans had a five-acre parcel that butted against the American River. He hadn’t wanted to move after the plane crash to avoid uprooting Sean when he desperately needed stability. And now? It was comfortable. It wouldn’t occur to him to move anywhere else.
The house had long been a gathering spot. J.T. and Jax Caruso had practically lived there, since their parents were divorced and neither cared much about what their kids did. The kids from the neighborhood had always come by after school; Sheila had always said it was better to come to her house than to get in trouble on the streets. She had fed the neighborhood, monitored potential problems, and always listened.
That was what Duke missed the most about his mom.
She’d always had time for him and his brothers and sister. Even when she was working, even when she had outside commitments, she listened. She rarely offered advice unless directly asked, but she’d always ask one or two questions that guided you to the right answer. His dad was more cut-and-dried, right-and-wrong, but he, too, believed that family was everything, and as long as the Rogans were together, they could handle anything.
Their deaths left such a gaping void that the family split apart. Duke never understood how it had happened. Duke had been back from his months fighting Kane’s wars in Central America for less than a year when their parents died. Kane returned and tried to be the patriarch, but it was not in his blood. He handled grief differently from most people, Duke supposed. So the responsibilities fell to Duke, and too soon the twins left the country to run their own security business and Kane turned over the business he started with J.T. Caruso to Duke, and returned to Central America. And Duke and Sean kept the house up, though it was far too big for the two of them.
But through it all, if Duke needed anything, Kane was there. Home base was always … home. And having the foundation that his parents gave him was irreplaceable.
He stared at Nora. She was now aware he was looking at her; he could tell by the way she drove, keeping her eyes on the road, her focus on the other drivers. Everywhere but on him. He made her nervous, and he didn’t know why. He was the one in
awe of what she’d accomplished in her life. To have grown up in that situation and to turn out not only smart and sharp, but to be a cop. A fed. It couldn’t have been easy, but at the same time she was well-suited for the job. She believed in what she was doing, understood the people she fought against, and had incredible compassion for all concerned. A rare, rare trait, and perhaps that, more than her own conflicts about her childhood, was what made her so tense. To be able to see all sides of an issue, to understand the predators as well as the victims, was not easy. Duke had known a lot of cops, local and federal, who burned out far too fast because they couldn’t tame their emotions. Nora’s grim steadfastness was an act, and Duke saw right through it. She had a shield that kept her sane, but that’s all it was—a shield to protect her.
He wanted to get under that shield and see Nora English for the woman she was. The Nora English that kissed him last night, the Nora English who was inside.
And he would. Duke got everything he set his mind on.
When the car started down the mountain on the California side of the Sierra Nevadas, Duke’s phone vibrated. He had a voice mail.
He listened, his face falling.
“That was Sean,” he said. “He left a message.”
“Your brother?”
Confession time. “I’ve had him snooping around Rose College the last couple days.”
She didn’t say anything, but he could tell she wasn’t happy about being kept in the dark.
“Three students were found this morning, dead, apparent suicides. And they left a note claiming they killed Jonah Payne.”
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Rose College was in mourning.
Nora walked through the campus amid a sea of shocked faces. The media had been held at bay by the sheriff’s department, and Sheriff Sanger was speaking to the dean of students in the lobby of the dormitory where three students had apparently killed themselves.
Nora herself was stunned. For the forty minutes it took from when Duke got his brother’s call until they arrived she tried to reconcile political activism with serial murder. It didn’t make sense.
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