Don't Say a Word

by Beverly Barton

  Julia shook her head. “Not a clue as to where, but I’m fairly certain the package wasn’t there when I left for Audrey’s this morning. I can’t say anything else for sure. I stopped at several places on the way home. He could’ve done it then. He could’ve done it when I was parked outside Audrey’s house, for all I know. We can look at the parking lot videotapes at the grocery store to see if he did it there.”

  “We will. Where else did you stop?”

  “After the grocery store, the dry cleaners, and a wine and cheese shop.”

  Will was frowning, eyes intently roaming the surrounding woods. “I don’t like him getting that close to you.”

  That surprised Julia, all right, but she could see that the concern in his eyes was real. “Well, I don’t, either, trust me. Rest assured, nobody’s going to sneak up on me out here, not with Jasper around. He’ll bark the minute he hears anything.”

  “Yeah? Well, Jasper’s not always awake. He didn’t bark at me the other day when I showed up out here early in the morning, if you’ll remember.”

  “True, but I am a trained police officer. I can take care of myself.”

  Will’s frown deepened. “I got all the way to your front door the other day.”

  “True, and I had my weapon pointed at you before you got inside.”

  Surprisingly, Will didn’t argue with that. “I know, but this guy’s a psychotic killer, and he’s picked you out to deal with. That makes you a target. He’s obviously been tailing you. I don’t like this. Especially when you didn’t suspect you were being followed.”

  Will was right, and Julia couldn’t deny the implications. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful from here on out. What about the DVD? You ready to watch it?”

  Will hesitated. “Yeah, where is it? Maybe he’s gone and made a big mistake this time, pulling this kind of dangerous stunt.”

  “I wouldn’t count on him making stupid mistakes. He’s been a clever boy so far.”

  Inside the boathouse Will put on the gloves Julia handed him and pushed the DVD into the slot on her laptop with one finger. “Get ready, Cass. My gut tells me that this is not going to be pretty.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Will hit the play button, and they sat side by side, saying nothing, just watching the static that appeared on the screen. The picture flashed on a couple of seconds later. It was a video of one of the murders, all right, just as they had feared. Judge Lockhart was bound to a white iron chair on his back veranda. He was sitting upright, forehead strapped to the tall back of the chair, his eyes bulging wide and filled with fear. Rivulets of sweat streamed down his face, and he seemed to freeze as a voice came out of the darkness behind the camera. The voice was distorted electronically, sounding hollow and gruff and inhuman: “Don’t say a word . . . don’t ask me for mercy . . . the fraudulent tongue shall be cut out.”

  Then the camera panned down the judge’s naked chest, past his white swim trunks and bound legs to the floor of the porch. There, set out in precise order, lay the metal scales, a big pair of pliers, a well-honed, twelve-inch fillet knife, and a coiled length of yellow ski rope. Julia cringed and had to force herself to watch as the actual murder went down.

  “He’s showing himself,” Will said, leaning closer to the screen.

  Julia watched the killer move toward the camera. He was dressed in black, his face hidden by a black ski mask. He held up the tongue in one black-gloved hand for the camera to record, cut off the tip, and then placed the other part on one side of the scales. He carefully stacked a handful of dimes on the other side. The screen went back to static.

  Will ejected the DVD and looked at Julia. “He wants us to find him. He’s helping us. I think he’s frustrated that we haven’t yet.”

  “Or he wants us to know why he’s doing this. Maybe we’re not catching on to his clever little enigmatic clues the way he thinks we should. Maybe he wants us to follow the leads in a certain way, go through this exactly the way he set things up. Could be that he’s not exactly happy with us or the news media’s take on his murders.”

  “He’s got his own murderous agenda, Julia, and he’s carrying it out one step at a time. He knows who we are. He has already contacted you. That puts you in danger. You’ve got to be careful. This man is seriously deranged.”

  “He seems pretty deliberate to me. I think he’s out for revenge, getting rid of one perceived enemy at a time. All we have to do is tie all this together and we’ll get him.”

  “There’s got to be a common denominator here somewhere. But it’s a needle in a haystack thing.”

  Julia felt sure that she was right, but now that she’d actually seen the guy wreak his cruelty, his savagery, on a helpless victim, she had a terrible feeling that the killer had already chosen his next victim, maybe more than one. He might have already killed again. He wasn’t wasting time between kills, as some serial killers liked to do. He wasn’t picking people at random, also not typical of most serials. But that was good. If he had a specific agenda with specific targets, they just might get lucky and identify him sooner rather than later. Whatever the case, they weren’t going to stop until they found the key.

  Chapter 16

  Gloria Varranzo regained consciousness, aching all over, head pounding, mouth dry, lips parched and parted. She couldn’t remember anything at first. She had come home from the Hamilton County criminal court, taken a quick shower, and heated up a bowl of tomato soup. Then the doorbell had rung. She had answered it, hadn’t she? Had Trent showed up early? She was expecting him later tonight, wasn’t she? No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t decipher her jumbled thoughts. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to raise her hands and massage her aching temples. But she couldn’t move. Oh God, why couldn’t she move?

  Finally she forced her eyes open but blinked painfully under the glaring light trained on her. She tried again to see, jagged pain crashing around in her skull like a spiked steel mace. Except for the one light, the room was dark. Where was she? She finally realized that the light was coming from one of her Pottery Barn copper bedside lamps. It was lying on its side, the bulb pointed at her face. She tried to think.

  Okay, that meant she was at home, and then she remembered the man. He’d been standing outside her door. The man she’d met in the elevator. Yes, that’s right. At first, she’d thought he was flirting with her, that he’d thought her attractive and followed her home. Men noticed her, lots of them, even though she was past her best years. His attention didn’t surprise her; she’d kept her trim figure with lots of grueling workouts and distance jogging, and she paid close attention to her hair and nails, and especially her skin. She didn’t have a wrinkle on her face. Thanks to cosmetic surgery and Botox, true, but not a single one.

  But what had happened at the door? She tried to remember, tried to get past the excruciating, thudding pain in her head. Think, think. The man had hit her on the head. She remembered that now, although it was all a blur. Now she was tied up. Was this a sexual assault? Oh God, where was he now? What was he planning to do to her?

  “Are you scared, Ms. Varranzo?” came the man’s low voice.

  Should she say yes? Would that make him feel sorry? Make him think her vulnerable? Or would it be better to say no, pretend to be brave. But she wasn’t brave. She was so scared that she couldn’t answer either way.

  “I think you are. I think you’re a coward when you aren’t telling lies in front of a jury, or making the victims of the crime feel awful about themselves, or making the victim’s family live through the horrific things done to their loved ones, or taking pleasure in making their loved ones look like criminals, smearing their names, torturing their grieving families.”

  Terrified, she tried to summon some kind of bravado, tried to make her voice strong like she did in the courtroom. “What do you want? You’ll never get away with this. Never.”

  “Shh, Gloria, don’t say a word. Don’t expect mercy. All you’ve ever done is lie and accuse and damage inn
ocent people with your cruelty.”

  “Please . . .” Gloria got the word out somehow, all vestiges of courage fading to hollow horror. “Please don’t hurt me.”

  “You’ve gotten by with inflicting so much pain. So much suffering imposed on others.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever you want. Anything. I’ve got money, lots of money. I’ll give it to you. All of it.”

  “I don’t want your money. I want you to pay for what you’ve done to me.”

  “What did I do? I don’t know you. I don’t know you!”

  Gloria bit her lip and struggled against the ropes binding her. The man came out of the shadows. He had a set of scales in one hand. He held a long, thin knife in the other. The steel blade shimmered in the light when he moved it.

  “See these? They’re my scales of justice. You’ve never worried about justice in all the years you’ve been defending murderers and rapists and criminals, have you? Well, Gloria. Now it’s payback time. I’m the one you’ve got to face now. This is your final judgment.”

  “Please, no . . .”

  “ ‘The mouth of the just brings forth wisdom; but the fraudulent tongue shall be cut out.’ ”

  “No, no, please, please, I beg you . . .”

  The man walked forward with the knife. Gloria began to scream, and then her screams were cut short . . .

  Julia sat on a tall bar stool inside Cathy Axelrod’s kitchen, watching her friend take a glass baking dish of delicious-smelling chicken parmesan out of her oven. It smelled so good that Julia resisted the urge to pick up a fork and take a bite. Cathy’s mom was a great cook, out of the old Italian school, which meant having some kind of pasta nearly every night, and lots of it. In Julia’s opinion, Cathy could now give the chefs in Rome and Naples a run for their euros, no doubt about it. Lonnie was busy setting the table on the open-air rear deck and had refused Julia’s offer to help, instead pouring her a glass of the wine she’d brought and bidding her to sit down and keep his wife company. Will Brannock had not shown up yet. She wondered if he planned to stand them up. Julia was still surprised Cathy had invited him.

  “So tell me, Cath, why’s Will coming tonight? You hardly know him.”

  “To get the two of you together, of course. Why else would I have him over?” Cathy smiled impishly. She’d had her long, auburn hair cut short recently, and she looked really good, freckles and all. “You’ve been alone way too long. I bet you’ve forgotten how to kiss a man.”

  “C’mon, Cathy, stop it already. Nobody’s going to want to kiss me tonight, anyway, not if there’s garlic in that chicken.” She smiled, but Cathy was pretty much right on. Julia hadn’t kissed a man since Bobby died, hadn’t been out on many dates, either; just hadn’t wanted to. Not until Will Brannock came along, but why did it have to be him? Another cop. Another partner. She had lost one man she cared about because he was a cop. How could she get involved with another one, another man who faced danger and death every day? Well, she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. It was not going to happen.

  “You’re alone too much. In fact, you’re alone all the time. Lonnie and I worry about you.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t. I’m doing fine. I’m here, aren’t I? Having dinner with my friends. And you shouldn’t have invited Will. Nothing’s going to come of it. We’re partners.” Julia swallowed, and the next words came out hard. “Partners don’t need to get involved. You know why.”

  “You’re not really partners. As soon as this case is over, you’ll be with Tam, and Will will team up with J.D. That means a green light. That means a go. That means a wedding next year.”

  Julia rolled her eyes at Cathy’s persistence. “Stop this, I’m telling you. It’s not going to happen. He isn’t even interested in me in that way.”

  Cocking her head, Cathy stopped buttering the loaf of French bread and looked at her with that same knowing grin. “He sure accepted our invitation quickly enough. Maybe he’s more interested in you than you think.”

  Maybe he was. The reverse was certainly true, as hard as that was to admit. There was just something about him that got to her, especially when he was in an open mood and kidding around, laughing and teasing. Rare occurrences, of late. And there were those other things. Yeah, he was almost too good-looking, too tall, too strong, too smart, and last but not least, too addicted to redheaded flight attendants. Oh yeah, and he wouldn’t tell her a single thing about himself, his family, his life, or his past. Yessiree, that was exactly what she needed at the moment. A man of mystery. Not. Of course, said the good little angel perched on her other shoulder, he hadn’t shown that kind of womanizing behavior since that one time in the airport. And everybody who knew him said he wasn’t like that. And why shouldn’t he go out on dates? She did. J.D. did. Audrey did. Everybody did. Oh God, her resolve was dissolving big-time.

  The doorbell rang and Lonnie got up from where he was now watching a Braves baseball game on TV and went to answer the front door. They heard male voices speaking together, then a laugh.

  “He’s he-e-re,” Cathy singsonged. “Is your heart going crazy?”

  Maybe it was, but so what? And Cathy would never know it. Neither would Brannock. She was having enough trouble keeping her hormones under control.

  “Hello, Mrs. Axelrod,” Will said from the doorway. “I brought you some wine. Chardonnay. Hope that fits your menu.”

  “I beat you to it, Brannock,” Julia told him.

  “That’s okay,” Lonnie said, coming into the room. “There are four of us. That’s half a bottle each.”

  Will laughed. “I’m not much of a drinker. Found out early on that wine and whiskey can get a guy in trouble.”

  Everyone laughed, but Julia wondered what kind of trouble he was talking about.

  “Here, everything’s ready and hot. Let’s take the food out on the deck. Will, would you take the bread? Julia, you bring the salad and salad dressing.”

  Cathy had seated Julia and Will side by side, across the table from Lonnie and her. Julia noticed how close their chairs were. As she sat down, she moved hers a little farther away.

  “Would you bow your heads for grace?” said Lonnie, folding his hands.

  Lonnie had been a chaplain in the military for many years and was still very devout. So was Cathy, which made them an even stronger match. After the blessing, Lonnie took their plates and served the chicken parmesan as they passed around the rest of the food. Will fit in very well, asking Lonnie about his years in the service, but Julia noted that he didn’t volunteer any information about his own military service, if he’d had any. Maybe it was time to find out exactly what he’d done.

  “What about you, Will?” she asked pointedly, turning in her chair to look straight at him. “Were you in the service?”

  He smiled and shrugged, easier with the question than she’d thought he’d be. “I’m afraid I can’t divulge that information without unidentified forces coming after me.”

  “So you were in the Special Forces?”

  “I plead the Fifth.”

  “Yeah, surprise, surprise.”

  “Sounds exciting,” Cathy interjected, no doubt sensing Julia’s frustration. “But we won’t put you on the spot, will we, guys? Can you tell us how long you’ve been with the TBI?”

  Julia thought Will didn’t look like he wanted to tell them zip about himself or anything else. To her surprise, he said, “About ten years now. I’ve only been in Chattanooga for a year and a half.”

  “Where were you before?” Julia asked him.

  “Afraid I can’t say.”

  Julia turned to Cathy. “You ask him, Cathy. I think he responds better to you.”

  Cathy and Lonnie laughed. Cathy said, “Oh, no way. I think he responds a whole lot better to you.”

  Well, that was blunt and embarrassing as hell. Why didn’t Cathy just get down to brass tacks and say that the two of them were so intensely attracted to each other that it was a miracle there hadn’t been a sexual attack committed by one or both o
f them?

  Will gave his easy laugh, Sergeant Sociable all of a sudden. “We make a good team, that’s for sure. Julia is quite a detective.”

  Lonnie nodded. “That’s what Cathy says, too. She said you were great with the K-9 units, but that you’re even better in homicide.”

  “I try,” Julia said, feeling silly. Truth was, she didn’t like talking about herself and her past anymore than Will did. Yet another trait they had in common. Two privacy freaks.

  “This is the best chicken parmesan that I’ve ever tasted,” she said enthusiastically, in an awkward attempt to change the subject.

  “I agree,” said Will. “Thank you for inviting me, Cathy. It’s good to get away from the case a bit. That’s about all Julia and I have been thinking about.”

  Well, that was partially true. They were checking out every single lead, twice, even three times, and so far they were getting almost nowhere. Lots of connections, lots of false leads, lots of shady people who were probably lying. And a serial killer who was probably hanging his next victim from a yellow ski rope while they all cheerily clinked glasses and partook of great Italian food and crusty bread.

  “I brought dessert,” Julia said, not liking the direction of her thoughts. Will was right, they needed to clear their minds, think about other stuff for one night. Maybe then they’d remember something, see some little detail they’d overlooked. “It’s pecan pie.”

  “How’d you know? That’s my favorite,” Will said quickly, giving her that great smile of his.

  “Well, that’s lucky.” Julia wondered if he was buttering her up for something, and why, and if he really did like pecan pie. On the other hand, who didn’t like pecan pie?

  “You got my number, I guess.”

  “Yes, she certainly does,” interjected Cathy, like the sly dog she was.

  Julia gave her a warning look as Cathy scooted back her chair and brought out a pot of coffee. Cathy poured the brew, and Will ate two pieces of pie and politely complimented Julia on its deliciousness. She was stupidly pleased and chastised herself soundly. Keep it professional, keep it professional, she kept telling herself. Partner, partner, partner, partner.