The Butterfly Murders

by Jen Talty

  Doug glanced to the floor, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t know. I guess so.” He looked up. “I didn’t know she was fourteen. Really. She told me she was seventeen.”

  “You believed that?” Shane asked.

  Doug shrugged.

  “Do you know any of the other boys? Any of them have a reason to hurt her?”

  “I don’t know who else she was texting,” Doug said. “All the kids do it.”

  “You sext with other girls?” Jones asked.

  “I have,” Doug said. “But it’s not illegal or anything.”

  “There are laws about protecting minors and sending and receiving naked images,” Shane said.

  “I didn’t do anything with the pictures. I can’t control what she sent me.”

  “Can we see your phone?”

  Doug shook his head. “Come on, man. I got private stuff on there that has nothing to do with Emily.”

  “But you might have a number we can trace back to Emily’s phone that could help us find her killer.”

  “My father is going to kill me,” Doug said as he turned to his desk, opening his top drawer and pulling out his phone. “I’m only doing this because Emily was my friend. When will I get it back?”

  “Might want to get a new one.” Shane carefully took the phone just as Mrs. McCauley stepped back into the room.

  “Doug! What are you doing? Don’t give them that.”

  “Jesus, Mom,” Doug said. “She was my friend and she’s been murdered. If something on my phone can help, then, well…I should let them look at it.”

  “We’re not out to get your son,” Shane said. “We’re only trying to find out who killed Emily.”

  “Since he’s eighteen, I guess I can’t force him to take it back,” she said with a deflated tone.

  “I’m afraid not,” Shane said.

  * * *

  “You didn’t have to meet me here,” Kara said as Shane stepped from his vehicle in the driveway of Congressman Cleary’s house. “I know you want to be home with your son.”

  “Turns out my niece is way cooler than the old man,” Shane said. “Besides, I didn’t want you to do this alone.”

  She smiled. “Chivalry at its best.”

  He chuckled.

  “It has to be hard on your son when a case like this comes your way.”

  “I was working a double homicide when he was first diagnosed. I didn’t pass it off, and it spurred many fights with Janet.”

  “There are other roles than active homicide.” Kara knew it wasn’t her place, but she really wanted to understand his relationship with his late wife. Might help her understand their rekindled feelings.

  “I didn’t want to face Kevin’s illness, but a month into his treatments I realized I wasn’t doing anyone any favors.”

  “You’re a good father,” Kara said, noting Cleary had stepped out onto his front porch. By the scowl on his face he was none too happy to see them. “Ready to get our heads taken off?”

  “I’m always ready.”

  They approached the front porch until they were face to face with Cleary.

  “This is getting ridiculous!” Cleary barked.

  “Your frustration is understandable.” Kara stepped into the marble foyer.

  “I doubt you understand anything,” Cleary said.

  “We want to talk to you about Barb Ester. She was John—”

  Cleary cut Kara off. “I’m well aware of who she was. A key witness in our case against Rodney, the boy who raped Lisa Haughton.”

  “You resigned from the D.A.’s office a few weeks before Lisa killed herself.”

  “One day after Rodney took the second plea,” Cleary said, not offering to move to the family room or living room. Instead, he kept one hand on the door, ready to kick them to the curb. “I know the timeline.”

  “How did you come to the plea offer?” Shane asked.

  “We had him on multiple crimes. I offered the public defender two lighter sentences versus taking him to trial for rape, which we had rock solid. The key to the deal was he couldn’t serve the sentences consecutively. So, he got fifteen years. Probably longer than if we’d gone to trial, which I didn’t want to put Lisa Haughton through. She was a weak witness and the defense would have reduced her to rubble. Also, and no offense to the Rochester PD, but there were some issues with evidence collection. I didn’t want to take a chance that Rodney would walk.”

  “Did Barb give you information that helped with making that offer?” Shane asked.

  “She did.” Cleary still had a death grip on the door. “Without her we couldn’t have pushed him to take the deal.”

  “You cut her a deal as well?” Shane asked.

  “She didn’t do anything worth cutting a deal. Once he took the plea, she was no longer needed.”

  “Why wasn’t any of this in the report?” Kara had read and reread the arrest report and the plea bargain for John Rodney, but there were no notes of this side deal and negotiations.

  “It was my last case. I wanted it wrapped up before I left. The guy is in prison. I did my job. As far as the first offense,” Cleary said, “you both know any other D.A. would have offered that kid a plea. Hell, most cops would have talked the parents into not filing charges or pursuing anything other than a restraining order. The kid had no priors. It was that simple.”

  “Do you know this man?” Kara showed him a picture of Gregory Donegan.

  “Should I?” He held it in his hands, examining it closely. “I don’t recognize him. Does he know something about what happened?”

  “No,” Shane said. “He was murdered.”

  “You think this is related to my daughter’s murder?” Cleary pulled the picture closer, then stretched his arm out, obviously needing cheaters to see better.

  “We don’t know yet,” Kara said.

  “How did he die?”

  “Strangulation,” Shane said. “He was related to Barb Esters. Thought maybe he was involved with Rodney somehow, trying to link it all back to Haughton.”

  “I’ve felt bad about Haughton’s daughter for a very long time,” Cleary said. “But hindsight is 20/20 and I still think that man killed my daughter. He hasn’t been right since his daughter killed herself. I actually understand that.”

  “We have a sensitive topic we need to discuss.” Kara held out the papers and notebooks they’d taken from the house.

  “What are those?” Cleary took the bundle, but didn’t open them. Just stared at them.

  “Your daughter’s journals,” Shane said.

  “The ones you took?”

  Kara nodded. “There’s a lot of graphic sexual details about her relationship with Doug McCauley.”

  “Excuse me?” Clear said behind gritted teeth. “My daughter was fourteen.”

  “I’m sorry, Congressman,” Kara said. “But your daughter was sexting and sending inappropriate images to more than one boy.”

  “You little bit—”

  “That’s uncalled for,” Shane said. “We’re on your side, but Emily was meeting and texting with this boy. And her journal talks about some very sexually explicit—”

  “Don’t you dare talk about my daughter that way! What the fuck do you know?”

  “We know that your daughter was murdered,” Shane said. “I know this is hard to hear—”

  “You’re lying.”

  Shane pointed to the journals. “I wish we were. Please look at these. Read them. Only one boy is named, but she talks about others. Any little thing you can think of may help us catch this bastard.”

  “You made copies of these?” Cleary looked at Kara with disgust and anguish. His bloodshot eyes glared at her with disdain.

  Kara nodded.

  “I don’t want this getting out,” Cleary muttered. “My little girl was murdered. I can’t have…” he sniffled, “…her memory tainted like this. It would destroy her mother.”

  “We would never consider releasing the journals,” Shane said. “But we will do what
it takes to bring the killer to justice.”

  “Haven’t you done enough damage?” Cleary asked sarcastically. “You basically forced me to tell my wife about my affair with Heather.”

  “We did no such thing,” Shane said.

  “Right.” Cleary’s tone was dark and ominous. “Thanks to you I may have lost my wife as well.”

  Kara decided to ignore the statements. It wouldn’t do any good to go at it with Cleary at this point. “We need to ask that you not contact the boy or his family. You need to let us handle this.”

  “I won’t promise anything,” Cleary said. “Anything else?”

  “Not right now,” Kara said.

  “I need to get back to my family.”

  “We appreciate your time,” Kara said. “We’ll be in touch.”

  Cleary opened the door. No sooner did Kara cross the threshold than Cleary slammed the door.

  “He is so not going to like what he reads in those,” Shane said. “How old were we when we delved past just kissing?”

  “Fourteen,” she said. “And it’s really not the time to discuss that.”

  “I’m just thinking.” He leaned against the door of her SUV. “Did your parents know? Have any kind of clue what we were doing? My parents lectured me all the time about how to treat a lady, respect and all that. If I had a dollar for every time during our relationships that my parents brought up STDs, condoms, pregnancy, and every other thing related to sex, I’d be a billionaire. Hell, I was terrified to touch you.”

  “Not that terrified, because you did, but to answer the question, my parents talked to me about sex. They certainly weren’t blind, or naïve, but they weren’t as open as yours.”

  “You think the Cleary’s ever talked to their daughter about that stuff?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I got the impression he could have been aware, but in denial.”

  “Which is why I don’t understand why he didn’t tell us about Doug during that first interview. I would think if it were my kid, I’d be sucking up my pride and telling all.”

  “I hate to point out the double standard,” Kara said, “but you’re a boy. My parents didn’t want to accept their little girl was growing up. They certainly didn’t want to know if, and when I had sex, especially my father, who every time my mother decided it was time to rehash the sex talk and made him join us, turned fifty shades of red. He’d end the conversation with, ‘I know you’re a good girl,’ even after we went to college and they showed up and found you half-dressed in my dorm room.”

  “I hadn’t thought about those differences,” he said. “My parents knew you spent the night. My father even gave me a box of condoms my senior year. Even talking with Kevin, I’m fairly open. He’s not even close to hitting puberty, but he texts with some girl from school all the time. He’s only been back a couple of days. I have to take his phone away sometimes and have a stern talk with him, but secretly I’m thinking ‘that’s my boy’.”

  She laughed. “You’re a good father.”

  “I don’t often feel like I am. But I’m doing my best.” Shane bent over and kissed her cheek. “Drive safe.”

  “Sleep well.”

  “I will if you join me in my dreams.”

  Chapter 13

  SHANE SAT AT THE DINING ROOM table after eating a large breakfast that his niece had prepared. Theresa was in the kitchen, doing the dishes, while he enjoyed a few more moments with his son. For the last year he hadn’t worked a single Saturday, and now it was two in a row. And probably tomorrow as well.

  “I spoke to your teacher yesterday,” Shane said. “You’re lucky all she did was take the pocketknife away. Do I need to remind you it’s considered a weapon?”

  “No, Dad,” Kevin said. His lower lip quivering. “I forgot it was in my pants pocket. Honest. I didn’t mean to bring it to school.”

  “I believe you and so did your teacher, but you could be expelled from school.” Shane lowered his chin and arched his brow, trying to channel his father’s strong paternal look. “I know you don’t want that to happen.”

  “Can I have a little dish like you have to empty my pockets out in every day? I think that will help me to remember.”

  “We can do that. And Theresa and I will remind you.” Shane smiled. “So, tell me about this girl you’ve been talking to.”

  Kevin rolled his eyes. “She’s in my tutoring group. She missed last semester, too.”

  “Why?”

  “She had some kind of cancer. Doesn’t like to talk about it.”

  “Going to tell me her name?” Shane knew her name, because he’d seen it in his son’s phone. He only read a few of the texts. After knowing what was going on with the Cleary girl, he felt he needed to be more in tune with his son. So many changes.

  “Gina,” he said. “Besides having a hard time in math, she’s having a hard time adjusting to being back. A lot more than I am, but it could be easier for me if I had a smartphone.”

  “Maybe next year.” Shane shook his head. “How are you having a hard time?”

  “I’m the only kid who doesn’t have a smartphone.”

  “Nice try,” Shane said. “So, you and Gina hang out a lot together?”

  “In class,” Kevin said. “And sometimes at lunch. Some of the girls are mean to her because she wears one of those scarf things. It’s taking a while for her hair to grow back in.”

  “You like her a lot.”

  “We’re friends.” Kevin’s cheeks flushed.

  At his age Shane had it bad for Kara, but he had no idea what that meant. Just that he liked being around her more than anyone else.

  “Well, if you did, do you remember what I told you about how to treat girls?”

  Kevin rolled his eyes again. “Really, Dad. We’re just friends.”

  “Well, if you decide it’s time to be more than just friends—”

  “I’ll treat her like a lady,” he said. “Respect her. Go meet her parents. Blah, blah, blah. You and Grandpa are so old-fashioned.”

  “Trust me. It’s not old-fashioned. It’s how you get a good woman. It’s how I ended up with your mom.”

  “I’m ten and not really in the market for a wife,” Kevin said. “Can I be excused now? I’ve got a hot date with my Xbox.”

  Shane laughed. “Sure. I’ve got to get to work. I promise it won’t always be like this.”

  “I’m not worried.”

  Shane figured he was in for one hell of a ride with this kid through his teenage years. “I’ll see you all tonight!” he yelled as he snagged his keys.

  The early afternoon sun was bright, as the sky was clear. But the temperatures had dropped again, and snow was on its way.

  Shane headed to his favorite coffee shop to fetch four large cups, as requested by his partner, Kara, and her partner. The line was long, but the line was always long.

  “Mr. Rogers?” a familiar voice rang out.

  He turned to see the new nurse on the transplant wing standing behind him. “Hello, Tina,” he said, hoping he’d gotten the name right.

  “How’s Kevin? Enjoying school?”

  “He is,” Shane said. “Thanks for asking.”

  “I’ve got an hour before I have to be at the hospital. Care to join me?”

  He glanced at his watch. It was just past one. He was supposed to meet Kara, Foster, and Jones by one- thirty at the station. “Thanks for the offer.” The two people in front of him were together and it was his turn to order. “Three large coffees and one mocha to go.” He looked over his shoulder at Tina. “Sorry, I have to get to work.”

  “I understand,” she said. “Tell Kevin, next time he comes in I want to see more magic tricks.”

  “Will do.”

  “Three large coffees and a mocha,” the clerk said.

  Shane took the tray in one hand and glanced at his phone in the other as it buzzed.

  “Shane here.”

  “We’ve got another!” Captain Morrell barked. “Eight candles placed ar
ound a naked adult body. Three on each side. One at the head. One at the feet. Same weird butterfly-looking mark. Only, this time an incision was made in the belly.”

  Shane quickly put the address into his phone and raced to his car, putting the tray on the passenger seat.

  Another dead body.

  It took Shane fifteen minutes to drive across town, weaving in and out of traffic, which wasn’t too bad this time of day on a Saturday.

  Kara had beat Shane to the crime scene. He rolled his car to a stop behind her SUV. Jones’s car was right in front of hers. He quickly pulled out his cell phone and texted his niece, indicating he had a situation and wasn’t sure when he’d be home. He waited a moment, thankful when she texted back. It was nice to have her around to help.

  Shane quickly scanned the scene, pushing his home life from his brain, and focused solely on the case. If this was the same killer, which Shane knew deep in his gut it was, he’d now be considered a serial killer. The press was already aware the FBI was involved, and they’d been speculating on the connection between Emily and Gregory. It was going to be nearly impossible to keep the press at bay.

  This time, the killer had chosen a young single mother in a subsidized apartment building in the town of Greece. The victim’s ex found the body when he went to drop off his son for an overnight visit.

  Shane drew his sport coat tight around his body, then hefted the coffee tray from the passenger seat. The cold chilled him to the bone.

  The apartment was on the second story. Shane stood at the bottom of the stairs after ducking under the police tape and signing the crime scene log. He glanced over his shoulder. The press was interviewing the neighbors and anyone who wanted to be put on camera. People stood around pointing, whispering among themselves. Faces lined with worry. Fear.

  Slowly, he made his way to the top of the stairs, focusing on the white noise and trying to ignore the lingering smell of rotting flesh. Foster and Kara were talking with man who looked to be in his mid-thirties. His eyes were bloodshot. He kept shaking his head and running his hand across the top of his buzzed hair. He wore jeans and a nice button-down dress shirt. A black leather bomber jacket was folded over his arm. Shane also noted his expensive shoes. Kara stepped away briefly, took two of the tall paper mugs, and mouthed ‘thank you’ before turning her attention back to interviewing the man.