Evil Never Dies (The Lizzy Gardner Series Book 6)

by T. R. Ragan

  He took off across the living room, disappeared through the sliding doors to the balcony overlooking the river. Jessica followed after him, leaving Lizzy to run out through the front door and around the house to cut him off if he tried to escape.

  An ear-piercing scream cut through the air. By the time Lizzy got to the backyard, Zachary Tucker was dragging his body toward a kayak along the riverbank. One leg was bent sharply at an odd angle, clearly shattered in more than one place. She looked up at the balcony and realized the idiot had jumped. She stepped over to him and put the barrel of her gun to the back of his head. “Please do keep crawling, Zachary. I’d love to squeeze this trigger.”

  He slumped to the grass and closed his eyes.

  Jessica walked up from behind and cuffed the man’s arms behind his back. “I’ll take it from here. You find the girl.”

  Lizzy rushed around the house again, this time in search of Claire Kerley. She made her way back inside and down the hallway to the door of the front room where the window had been broken. It was locked. “Are you in there, Claire?”

  There was a faint knock on the wall.

  “I’m going to shoot the lock off this door. Knock again if you’re out of the way of the door.”

  Another knock sounded.

  Lizzy fired at the lock. The door swung open.

  Inside the bedroom, lying on the floor between the bed and window, was the missing girl.

  She had thrown every item in the room at the window. Glass crunched beneath Lizzy’s feet as she crossed the room.

  The girl’s face was swollen and bruised. Her lips were cracked. She looked as if she were on the brink of death. She’d been stripped of clothes and every bit of her flesh was covered with cuts and bruises. Parts of her body had been painted. The monster had used her as a human canvas. Her wrists and ankles were raw and infected, but Lizzy did her best not to visibly react to Claire’s condition.

  She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed 911. Next she called Jimmy Martin and told him they had found Claire Kerley and gave him the address. After hanging up, she pulled a pillow from the bed and placed it beneath the girl’s head, then yanked off the sheet, too, and used it to cover her. “You did good,” she told Claire. “I need you to hang in there for a while longer. I’m going to take a quick look around, make sure no one else needs help. I’ll be right back—I promise. An ambulance is on its way.”

  Lizzy walked briskly through the house. She stepped outside onto the balcony and peered over the railing at Jessica and Zachary Tucker, still flat on his belly in the grass with his leg canted at its freakish angle. “I found the girl. She’s pretty beat-up, but she’s going to be all right. I also called it in. An ambulance is on its way.”

  “This one says his leg hurts,” Jessica said.

  “Really? That’s too bad.”

  “Yeah,” Jessica agreed. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  “I’m going to go back and sit with Claire.”

  “I should have listened to you from the start,” Jessica said.

  “We’re here, aren’t we?”

  Lizzy walked back into the house, then stopped to look at a painting propped on an easel in the corner of the living room. The picture was grotesque. Claire had been chained and cuffed to a wall. Her hair fell over parts of her face, but her eyes were wild and deranged, her teeth snapping.

  Lizzy wanted to rip the canvas to shreds, but she couldn’t destroy evidence so she walked away. Drawn by a strong smell and afraid someone else could need her help, Lizzy made her way downstairs. It was damp and dark, and she had to use her shirtsleeve to cover her mouth and nose as she continued down the stairs. Inside a wine cellar, atop a dirty mattress and rolled partially within a bloody tarp, was a dead body. A woman. Her eyes had been carved out of her head.

  Lizzy gagged as she ran from the room.

  She needed to get Claire out of here.

  By the time she got back to the room upstairs, Claire had crawled to the door. “Come on,” Lizzy said. “Let’s get you outside and get some fresh air.” The girl weighed next to nothing. Lizzy propped her on the edge of the bed and fastened the sheet around her again before carrying her down the hallway and out of this nightmare.

  Sirens sounded in the distance, growing louder with each step.

  “I’m going to live,” the girl whispered as Lizzy set her on her feet and they made their way down the walkway.

  Lizzy held her close to her side. “That’s right. You’re a survivor, Claire.”

  “I need to talk to Mom.”

  “Let’s get into the car, and then we’ll give her a call, OK?”

  As soon as Lizzy and Claire were sitting safely in the backseat of her car, they called Claire’s mother. Lizzy told her that her daughter was alive, and then she held the phone close to the side of Claire’s face so she could talk.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  They both wept.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Hours later, Lizzy talked to both Brittany and Cathy on the phone. She told them what had happened and that it was safe to come out of the house. They were shocked to learn that Jake Polly might be the Sacramento Strangler. For the hundredth time, her sister talked about moving to another state. Lizzy would talk to her later, convince her to stay. They needed each other.

  As soon as Lizzy said her goodbyes, Jimmy motioned for her to come with him, letting her know they had Zachary Tucker back from the hospital with his broken leg set and they were about to interrogate him. She followed Jimmy deeper into the task force offices, to an already crowded ten-by-ten dimly lit room adjoining the interrogation room.

  Behind the glass, she saw Kenneth Mitchell sitting at a table across from Zachary, whose leg was in a cast and propped stiffly on a chair to one side. A wheelchair was parked in the corner. Jessica, along with three other agents, sat up front in the observation room. Jimmy and Lizzy took a seat in the back.

  “How long has Claire Kerley been staying with you?” Mitchell asked Zachary.

  “I don’t recall.”

  “How did she come to be in your house?”

  “She was hitchhiking, so I thought I’d give her a ride. She told me she hated her family and her boyfriend and she wanted to get high. She’s a sassy one.”

  “So you brought her home with you?”

  “I did.”

  “Tell us about the wine cellar.”

  “What would you like to know?”

  “It looked as if you did some renovating. Tell us about the bolts and cuffs that were found embedded in the walls. The ones with your fingerprints all over them.”

  “Oh, that. It was Claire’s idea.”

  “She asked to be hung by metal cuffs?”

  “She certainly did.”

  “You painted her portrait, is that right?”

  “Of course. Lovely Claire wanted something different than the others, so I gave her exactly what she asked for.”

  “Speaking of the others, let’s talk about some of them. I would like to start with Lorry Jo Raciti, the woman found near the American River, not too far from where you live.”

  “I don’t recognize the name. Never met her.”

  “Maybe this picture will help jog your memory.” Mitchell slid an eight-by-ten color photograph of her body in front of him.

  “Ahh,” he said.

  “You remember now?”

  “Perhaps,” he said, transfixed by the photo.

  “So, what were you thinking after you killed her?”

  Zachary didn’t say anything. Merely leaned closer for a better look.

  “We have your journal in our possession. No reason for you to keep it all bottled up. It’s over, Zachary.”

  The killer had yet to take his eyes off the woman he’d killed by the river. “I was thinking how lucky she was to be one of t
he chosen ones.” Zachary looked up and smiled at Kenneth Mitchell. “Her eyes were so blue. They flickered between wild and fearful. I could see her heart pumping against her chest. She was magnificent. My plan was to paint her next—from memory, of course—once I was finished with Claire.”

  Jessica looked over her shoulder and made eye contact with Lizzy.

  Jimmy gave her the thumbs-up.

  They had their man. He had just confessed to a murder.

  There was a pause during the interrogation when Zachary asked for an energy drink, specifically a Red Bull. He refused to go on until his request was fulfilled.

  The questioning went on like that for another two hours. Zachary Tucker/Jake Polly seemed more than content to talk about his victims as Mitchell held up one picture after another.

  “So why did you kill them?”

  “It’s my calling.”

  “Killing is your calling?”

  “Definitely. I am surprised it took you people so long to find me.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I left you enough clues.” He gestured to all the pictures scattered across the table. “It was all there, all these years, pointing in my direction.”

  When Mitchell asked him about Gillian Winslow, the therapist his parents had hired and assigned as Zachary’s trustee, Zachary decided he’d given them enough information. “I think I’ll request a lawyer now. I want the same deal as the Green River Killer.”

  “What deal is that?”

  “I want life.”

  “Anything else you want to tell us before a lawyer is appointed to you?”

  “Yes. I want the world to know that nobody out there really gets it.”

  “Nobody gets what, exactly?”

  “Evil never dies.”

  “Can you explain?”

  “Of course. You can catch a killer like me and throw away the key, but there’s always someone else out there slicing and dicing, killing people just because they can. Me,” he said, pointing to his chest, “I am a natural born killer. I killed my own sister, and if given the chance, I would do it again.”

  Lizzy could see now why she hadn’t recognized Jake Polly from Hayley’s sketch. Kathryn had been right about his magnetism, and that was something most artists just couldn’t translate to paper. Since Kathryn had seen him last, his nose had definitely been broken, maybe more than once—by his victims, Lizzy hoped. His hair was short and straight, much different from the thick, wavy hair Kathryn had described. Zachary had no facial hair whatsoever.

  But they had found him, and that’s all that mattered.

  “Good work,” Jimmy said. “That’s officially a wrap for me.”

  There was a mischievous glint in his eye.

  “You’re finally going to retire?” Lizzy asked.

  He jingled the coins inside his pants pockets. “That’s right. I want to learn to sail. I want to travel and spend time with the grandkids.”

  “Good for you. I hope you really do it this time . . . for your sake.”

  “What about you, Lizzy? Are you going to keep fighting the good fight?”

  “Nope. I’m finished being a PI. It took losing Jared to realize this isn’t the life I want to lead, and that’s something I’ll never forget.”

  Jimmy looked surprised. “No more investigative work?”

  “I’ve had enough. And Zachary Tucker is right.”

  “About what?”

  “Evil never dies. It never ends. Jared knew that. He got it. But me? I kept thinking I could make a dent.” She shook her head. “It’s impossible. For every evil person caught and locked behind bars, there’s two more waiting on the sidelines.”

  “You made a difference, Lizzy. That counts for a lot.”

  “Thanks, Jimmy. I’m wishing you the best. Stay in touch, will you?”

  “I’ll send you a postcard. Let you know what I’m up to.”

  They came to their feet, smiled at each other, and then he gave her one of his comforting bear hugs.

  Mitchell came out of the interrogation room. He raised his arms and tried to get a kink out of his shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot. “Lock that crazy son of a bitch up until he has a goddamn attorney. We’ve got what we need for now.”

  Jimmy and Mitchell stepped to the side and shared a few words before Jimmy headed off. Three officers brought Zachary Tucker out of the room. His arms and legs were now chained to his wheelchair.

  “Hey, Lizzy Gardner,” he said cheerily, metal chains clinking as he gestured her way. He looked at Mitchell. “Can I talk to her for a minute?”

  Mitchell looked at Lizzy, who nodded her approval.

  Mitchell motioned for the guard, letting them know it was OK to push Zachary that way.

  “What? No privacy?”

  “Never again,” Mitchell told him.

  Zachary set his wicked gaze on Lizzy. He looked as if he wanted to hypnotize her with his eyes. “Good thing you caught up to me when you did, because your niece was on my mind.”

  Lizzy didn’t flinch.

  “I bet you’re thinking the same thing I think every time I have my next victim in sight.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Kill, kill, kill, kill.”

  “No,” she said. “That’s not what I’m thinking at all.”

  “Tell me, please.”

  The corner of her mouth turned up slightly before she said, “I’m thinking about you spending the rest of your life behind bars, hopefully in solitary confinement, every day alone with no one to talk to, no freedom whatsoever.”

  “And how does that make you feel?”

  “Very happy.”

  “You talked to Kathryn, didn’t you?” he asked.

  “Several times.”

  “Did she show you the picture I painted for her?”

  “Nope. Didn’t mention it.”

  A flash of anger crossed over his face, and yet he recovered quickly. “She’s in love with me, isn’t she?”

  “Not even a little bit.”

  His eyes searched her face for the truth. “You’re lying. Want to know how I know?”

  “How?”

  “It takes a liar to know one.”

  “OK, that’s enough chatter,” Mitchell said. “Get his ugly mug out of here.”

  The guards pushed Zachary’s wheelchair out of the room. Agents and security filed out after them until there were only three people left in the room: Mitchell, Jessica, and Lizzy.

  “You did good,” Mitchell said. “Both of you.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Jessica said.

  “Jared Shayne was right about you, Jessica Pleiss.”

  “How so?”

  “He said from the beginning that you were going to be a top-notch profiler. Judging by what I’ve seen so far, he was right. Your keen assessment of the crimes and the reconstruction of events were point on. I’m going to put in a good word for you at Quantico.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Now get out of here, both of you. Go get some rest.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Two days later, Lizzy walked out of the doctor’s office and headed straight for her car. She had an appointment with a real estate agent in Loomis. She’d seen the house on the Internet six months ago, had even shown it to Jared. He’d liked it, too. It was run-down and not very big, but it was set on ten acres. She’d only seen the pictures online, but if the house was even half as cozy and quaint as it looked to be in the pictures, she would make an offer. Jared had left her a tidy sum, including the proceeds from the sale of his house. She would sell the business, too, and would be able to live comfortably if she stayed within her means.

  She couldn’t live with Kitally and Hayley forever, especially now that she knew she was going to have a baby.

  After she drove up
the long dirt road to the house, she stopped the car and realized the place was even better than she’d imagined. The house had been built in harmony with its natural surroundings. There were fruit trees and plenty of shade trees—a relaxed country setting. There was a pond and a rickety old barn in the foreground. It was hard to believe no one had scooped up the house months ago.

  The agent greeted her at the door, took her on a leisurely tour. There were two bedrooms and a smaller room without a closet that could be made into an office if she ever felt the need. Overall it was small, just as she knew it would be, but the high ceilings and open floor plan made it feel airy and spacious. She and the agent turned on faucets and discussed water wells and the two inches of irrigation water she would get during the summer.

  When they were done, Lizzy told her she wanted to make an offer. There wasn’t any furniture, so they stood at the kitchen counter and drew up the papers. The agent said she would be in touch.

  Lizzy’s next stop was the cemetery. The place was beautiful and well kept. In the distance there was a funeral taking place—mourners dressed in black, heads down. Lizzy walked past rows of grand headstones. She stopped to view one weathered sandstone marker that appeared to be as old as time. “1892, Corrie Perrelman, beloved wife, mother, and sister.”

  Jared’s grave marker was a good long walk from where she’d started out, but the headstone was clean and the grass around his marker had been mowed recently. She stood there, taking it all in. It was a peaceful day. Blue skies dotted with a few puffy white clouds. After a moment, she took a seat on the grass close to his marker. “I put an offer on that house I showed you,” she said. “The one with the acreage in Loomis. You liked it, and you said something about how it would make a good place for our kids to run around.” She hadn’t meant to cry, but the tears rolled freely as she talked. “We’re having a baby, Jared. You and me. Isn’t that a kick in the pants?”

  She used a sleeve to wipe her face. “I want to thank you for everything. For bringing me back to life and for this child I’m carrying inside me.” She took a moment to breathe before she added, “I screwed up, Jared. I thought I could take the law into my own hands and dish out some vengeance, but I was wrong. I want you to know that I’m going to do everything I can to get the girls back on track. And this baby of ours,” she went on, her voice wavering, “is going to be brought up surrounded by love.” She brushed her fingertips over his headstone. “Everything’s going to be OK.”