“I’m way ahead of you,” Tommy said. “We can do that while we’re waiting for the employee lists.”
“Good thinking. Okay, I guess that’s all for now, then. Thanks, Tommy.”
“Keep up the good work.”
Good work, Lacey thought as she ended the call and tossed her phone down. They were making progress, to be sure, but it was at a maddeningly slow crawl. The bits and pieces that they were collecting were so small, they still had no idea what the big picture was. Well, she couldn’t just sit and drum her fingers on the table. If she couldn’t figure this out, she could at least be productive in other ways.
She put in a load of laundry and went to the exercise room to work out. Her routine lately had suffered badly at the chaos imposed by this case. She really needed to be more mindful of that. For now, though, she started with stretches, then committed herself to the various sets on the weight machine, setting her mind free to ponder the case.
Hospital worker. Anything from a maintenance man to a doctor. He was fairly young, though, mid to late twenties, she guessed. Had Sam ever said? She’d have to ask him.
So probably not a doctor. Hmm, she wondered if the way the bodies were cut up could tell them anything. Was he an “artist” during the process, or just cutting through bones like a man would cut cord wood with a chain saw? She made a mental note to run that by Tommy.
Hospitals always ran three shifts for twenty-four-hour coverage. She supposed they could safely assume he didn’t work third shift, unless he confined his hunting expeditions to his days off. Something else to check against any likely candidate’s records.
She switched from lat pulldowns to crunches, pushing her mind and her body.
What else?
She ran back through everything Sam had said. Young, powerless, robbed of self-esteem and self-respect by a monstrous mother who got a sick thrill out of molesting her own son. Lacey knew this kind of child abuse was rarely reported. The victim was too ashamed and embarrassed to report, and if this had been going on his entire life—as an infant, Sam had said—it was all he knew. Normal. In the worst possible way.
It was too bad Teddy/Eddie/Freddy never took out his rage on his mother, paid her back, settled the score, but Sam had said no. Maybe if he had, there would only have been the one murder instead of five and counting. But Sam did say he thought Freddy’s mother was dead. When? How? If Freddy didn’t kill her, what did? And if she was dead, was that a good thing for him? She was gone and couldn’t abuse him anymore. Or was that a bad thing? He’d never achieve any resolution, any closure, with her gone. Except through other, innocent women.
It was a heartbreakingly sad but all too frequent cycle. The abuser got off on wielding power over the abused and the victim was never able to take his own power back from the abuser. Instead, the abused tried to reclaim his power by victimizing others; a domino effect. But it was always a short-term fix. It never resolved the issue completely, as was so glaringly obvious in this case.
It wasn’t the first time a case had led her down the darkest alleys in the human psyche, and probably wouldn’t be the last.
By the time she got done with her workout, Lacey had a plan of action. It was probably not going to produce results, but she couldn’t sit around all day not trying something, anything. She grabbed a quick shower, got a bottle of vitamin water and sat down at her laptop.
She pulled up LA Times obituaries and searched on “Theodore” and “hospital.” The amount of hits was staggering, until she realized many obits had the word “hospital.” Either the deceased had died in one or one was named as a suggestion for donations in the deceased’s name.
Yeah, like she thought, this was going to be an exercise in fruitlessness.
She tightened her jaw and tried again. She searched only on “Theodore.”
Plenty of hits over the last couple of years, either of the deceased or of family members.
Blurgh. She started scanning, going from the most recent backward. Luckily the search results came up with the name Theodore bolded, so she could quickly see if the name belonged to the deceased or a survivor. She was able to blow through any obits for male subjects, then paid more attention to the females, especially with a surviving son named Theodore. Of the handful of those, she scanned for mention of a hospital or anything related to the medical field.
By the time she’d gone back through three years’ worth, her eyes were crossing. She wouldn’t mind if she’d come up with any possibilities, but there were none. She made an entry in her notebook about how far back she’d gone on this thread, and switched to Frederick. If nothing else panned out, she could go back to Theodore and look further in the past.
Frederick yielded similar results, and she sorted through them. This time, however, her search picked up on many more surnames of Frederick, as well, which she quickly dismissed. Who would name a kid Freddy Frederick?
After fruitless searching for another hour, she fixed herself a quick lunch, a hot bowl of soup to try to counteract the cold stone in the pit of her stomach. She considered giving up the search. It was clearly clutching at straws.
But if she did nix this search, what else was she going to do? Background checks. Oh, joy.
Resolutely, but not happily, she pulled up her email to see what jobs she had pending. Only a couple, each with a handful of background checks. She could knock those out fairly quickly. She bent to it, trying to keep from slurping soup on her laptop.
But her brain wasn’t having it. Her mind kept going back to Teddy/Freddy/Eddie. What if he was there and she quit before she found him? What if she just needed to finish with Eddie, or if Teddy or Freddy was there, just more than three years back?
The what-ifs tortured her with every spoonful. Finally, when she’d scraped the last mouthful from the bottom of the bowl, she rinsed it out and admitted defeat.
All right, she said to that part of her that was a dog with a bone. You win.
She started searching for Edward. Lots of hits, for both first names and surnames. At some point it occurred to her that Eddie could be short for several names: Edward, Edwin, Edmond. She redid the search using simply Ed, which of course increased the results exponentially. That was depressing, but at least she knew she wasn’t missing a possible lead because of a less common name.
She waded through the last year, again bypassing obits for men, scanning exhaustively for the elusive Ed. The dog-with-a-bone part of her brain began to lose its grip, and the more rational part became louder in its insistence that this was all for nothing.
She checked the time: mid-afternoon. She’d need to start thinking about dinner soon. She decided on a compromise: one more year of obituaries. Then she would quit.
She was scanning faster now, her eyes jumping down the lines of text. Edward, Edgar, Edison, but no hospital connection. Eddleson, Edmond, Edwin, but no mention of medical facilities.
Suddenly the frantic darting of her eyes was arrested; a word caught her attention, but she went past it before it registered. She scanned back, slower.
Survived by her son, Edward Sutherland, Jr., blah, blah, blah.
Surgical nurse.
Lacey sat fully upright in her chair. What if Eddie wasn’t the one who worked in a hospital? What if it was his mother who did?
Licking her lips, she started at the top of the obit and read very carefully.
Melody Kathryn Sutherland passed from this earth on January 4, 2017. Born August 27, 1958 to Robert and Victoria Hatch, she devoted her life to healing and helping others, and worked for many years as a surgical nurse at Hollywood Presbyterian Hospital. She is survived by her only child, her son Edward Sutherland, Jr. A memorial service will be held…
Pretty skimpy obituary, Lacey thought. But if Ed wrote it, how many good things could he say about his mother?
This could be their guy. But Lacey had to make sure.
What did she die from? There was no cause of death mentioned, and no suggestions of donations to a cause fighti
ng cancer or heart disease. She could certainly file a request for information with the medical examiner’s office, but that would take days.
She printed out the obit for future reference and began a new search.
Melody Sutherland, 2017.
Three hits, including the obit.
The first article was dated January 2, 2017. Lacey scanned the story quickly.
Deadly car crash… rain-slicked streets… drunk driver… T-bone collision... Melody Sutherland succumbed to her injuries.
The second article, the very next day, recapped the accident, and the fatal outcome, only adding that the drunk driver had been charged with manslaughter after being released from the hospital with minor injuries.
Lacey knew it was a thin connection, but her skin tingled, her body vibrated with an undeniable certainty. She went back over her notes and checked the dates of the murders. The first one was January 12, 2018. A year and just a few days after Melody’s death. Had the anniversary of her death triggered Ed? Had it taken him a year to realize he would never be able to extract any kind of redemption or retribution from his mother? And had that realization pushed him over the edge?
To Lacey’s mind, it all fit, but she still recognized that the connection was tenuous. She had to find a stronger tie before she made her case to Tommy.
She pulled up her old standby, property records, ran a search on Sutherland. Found Melody Kathryn, no joint tenancy.
A midtown address.
Certain now, she pinpointed the address on Google Earth. Orienting herself to the near cross streets, she ran to the big map in the kitchen and stuck a white pushpin at the address, then stood back.
The white pin stood all alone, but surrounded by the red pins.
This had to be their guy. She turned it all over in her mind, but there was no way this was not him. She couldn’t imagine another person fitting the criteria as well as Ed did.
She had to call Tommy. She glanced around for her phone. Where had she left it?
Suddenly the front door swung open.
~~~
FIFTEEN
“Sam!” she yelped. His dark form in the doorway startled her. “What are you doing home early?”
Sam laughed silently. “I’m not. Check your watch.”
She did. “Oh, my gosh! It’s that late?”
He came to the kitchen, put his lunch box down and kissed her quickly. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. You’ve been working.”
She barely returned his kiss before taking his hand and dragging him to the big map.
“Look,” she said.
Sam’s dark eyes scanned the map, but honed in immediately on the white pin. Without a word, he stepped up closer. Lacey could see his eyes touching on the red pins, the blue pins, but coming back again and again to the white one. He raised one hand and held it in front of the midtown area.
“Lacey,” he said.
“What?” She clutched his other arm expectantly.
“That’s him.” He looked down at her. “You got him.” A slow smile spread across his face. He slipped his arm around her and squeezed. “How’d you do that?”
She grinned. “Let me call Tommy first, okay? Then I’ll tell you all about it.”
She found her phone and pushed the speed dial for Tommy. He got it on the first ring.
“Lacey.”
“Tommy, I found him!”
“Wh-what?”
“I found him. Edward Sutherland. He lives at…” She checked the screen of her computer, making sure she had the exact address. “His mother was a surgical nurse at Hollywood Presbyterian. She died just over a year ago, killed by a drunk driver. His house is right in the middle of all the dumpster sites. And Sam says I’m right.”
“Hang on.” She heard fumbling, steps on pavement. “I was just leaving. Let me get back inside… Wait a minute.”
Lacey waited, not patiently, but with pleased certainty. She sat down at her laptop, in case she needed to quote him any of her sources. Excitement zinged through her.
“Okay, here we go,” Tommy said. “Read me that address again. Sutherland, you said?”
“Yes, Edward. His mother was Melody. I haven’t found any evidence of a father.”
She gave him all the pertinent information she had collected, the breadcrumbs that led her to Eddie.
“This makes sense,” Tommy said. “Remember you asked me to check on the way the corpses were cut up? Surgically or not? Definitely not. There was no regard for placement in the bone, the joint, whatever. Just whatever was expedient for cutting the pieces up into manageable sizes.”
“This is him,” she said. “I know it.” She felt giddy.
“I think you’re right. Okay, let me get on this. We’ll get our ducks in a row and go invite Mr. Sutherland to come down and talk with us.”
“Let me know how it goes,” she said.
“Will do. Thanks, Lacey. Good job.”
She hung up the phone feeling decidedly euphoric. She floated into the kitchen, wondering what Sam was doing.
And found him making grilled cheese sandwiches.
He arched an eyebrow at her. “I’m guessing you didn’t have plans for dinner.”
She laughed out loud, went to him and let him fold her into his arms. “I’m sorry,” she said, but she didn’t sound it. “I just got to going on this thread, and I couldn’t…”
“Couldn’t stop. I know. Don’t sweat it.” He held her close, kissed the top of her head and pushed her gently out of the way. “You did good, Lacey. These are almost done. You want to get plates?”
Over golden sandwiches, Lacey told Sam all about her quest, the hunches, the dead ends, the breakthroughs. Her euphoria settled into a calmer, quieter satisfaction. When she finished the recounting, she sat back and grinned at him, her green eyes sparkling.
“You’re pretty proud of yourself, aren’t you?” he asked.
She nodded, laughing.
“Well, you should be,” he said. “I’m proud of you, too. You did great.”
She sighed. “This takes me back to my days on the force,” she said. “Hunting down the bad guys, throwing their asses in jail. Knowing they won’t be able to hurt anyone else. Man, that feels good.”
“Do you miss it?” he asked. The casual question didn’t quite match the intent look in his dark eyes.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she mused. “Maybe. Sometimes. But working the way you and I do is so much better.” She smiled. “We don’t have to go by the rule book, and we can be so much more responsive to the smallest hunch, the barest clue.” She took his hand. “Our way is lots better.”
“Good,” he said decisively. “I’m glad you feel that way.”
“Even if I forget all about dinner?”
“Even so,” he said.
Later when Lacey was doing up the few dishes, Sam prowled the kitchen. “Did we not get any mail today?” he asked.
“Mail!” Lacey almost dropped a dish. “I forgot. I’ll get it in a minute.”
“I’ll go,” he said. “Be right back.”
Lacey laughed and shook her head at her absentmindedness. It was a good thing she didn’t get this single-minded every day. Their home life would be a shambles.
Sam returned just as she was putting the last dish in the dishwasher. She wiped out the sink as he pored through the envelopes.
“Anything good?” she asked.
“Nah. Just bills. Oh, except this.” He held up a small box.
“What’s that?” Lacey asked. Her brow knitted into a frown. She couldn’t remember ordering anything.
“Come here,” he said. He took the box to the dining room table, set it down and got out his pocket knife. Lacey took her chair and watched him pop open the top of the box. He pulled out a smaller box and tossed the carton aside.
She glanced at the return address. Firecloud. Tuba City, Arizona.
Sam opened the smaller box and stared at the contents. His expressionless face gave her no clue what was in there
.
“Hmm,” he said.
“What?” she asked. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure…” He glanced up at her. “See what you think.”
He handed her the box.
Lacey took it carefully and peered inside. Her breath caught in her throat.
Two rings nestled side by side in a satin-lined jewelry case. They were twins except for the size; Sam’s was larger. Both were simple white gold bands, each elegantly set with a single diamond-shaped turquoise stone that was bordered all around by small diamonds.
“Oh, my God!” she whispered. She pulled the smaller ring from the case and held it up to the light.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“What do I think? Are you kidding? It’s gorgeous!” She started to try it on, but thought better of it. Instead, she handed the ring to Sam. “Would you?”
He took it from her, then took her left hand. With deliberate slowness, he slid it over the tip of her finger, down to the first knuckle.
“I hope it fits,” he murmured.
Down to the second knuckle. Lacey pulled in a breath as he settled the ring ever so gently at the base of her finger.
A perfect fit.
“Oh, my God,” she moaned. “Look at it. It’s gorgeous. Perfect.”
“Are you sure?” Sam asked. “If you don’t like it…”
“Don’t like it? Sam, it’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.” She held her hand up to admire it. The small diamonds caught the light and sparkled back at her.
“It’s… it’s perfect. I love it.” She laughed out loud. “And it’s an original Firecloud, right?”
“Right,” he said. “The design was my idea. Wesley did a good job.”
She rose from her seat and went to him, sliding onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around him.
“An original Firecloud,” she said, dipping down toward him. “Just like you.”
~~~
Blood Walk (A Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud Mystery Book 8) Page 8