Harlequin Intrigue May 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Carol Ericson

  The phone rattled in his cup holder, and he grabbed it, seeing Tara’s number on the display. “McAllister.”

  “Detective, this is Tara Liu with DCFS returning your call.”

  “Thanks for the speedy response, Tara, and you can call me Jake.”

  “Not J-Mac?”

  “If you want. I take it Billy told you some stories about me—all false, I’m sure.”

  Her laugh trilled over the line. “How is Billy? Back with his wife?”

  Jake swallowed, not wanting to get caught up in Billy’s tangled romantic web. “On and off. You know.”

  “I do know.” She cleared her throat in a way that marked a delineation between social and business. “What can I help you with? Are you and Billy on the Andrea Miles case?”

  “We are. We re-formed the task force and are treating this like a possible serial.”

  She sucked in a breath. “You want my help with that?”

  “It is related.” He thought so, anyway. He didn’t have to give her all the details. Her voice indicated she’d be eager to help with a serial killer case.

  “I can help you off the record, but not if it puts any of my kids at risk. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He folded the corner of the paper in his lap and took a deep breath. “I’m looking for information about a person who left the system about ten years ago. You weren’t with the department then, were you?”

  “Just a grad student in social work, but I can access the records. What are you looking for?”

  “Primarily the names of his foster families while he was in the system, when he was a teen. I don’t need the whole history.”

  During the silence on the other end of the line, Jake chewed on his bottom lip.

  “The families are supposed to have anonymity.” Tara clicked her tongue. “But you are a cop, and you’re working a case. I can get you that info on your subject, and it doesn’t even have to be under the radar. I wouldn’t be doing anything sneaky.”

  “I don’t want to have to go through regular channels, Tara. I don’t want to do the paperwork or have to come up with a subpoena. Are you down with that?”

  Her answer came almost immediately. “I don’t know why, but I know enough from dating Billy that you guys do things off the record for a reason.”

  Jake gave a silent thanks to his partner and let out a quiet breath through his nostrils. He didn’t want to let on to Tara that he’d been holding it. “Thanks. I’ll be in your debt, so if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “Ooh, I like the sound of that—not that Billy isn’t already in my debt, but to have two LAPD homicide detectives at my beck and call is delicious.” Again, the clearing of the throat to return to business. “What’s the name of this person?”

  Jake crumpled the piece of paper with Matt’s info on it. He didn’t owe anything to Kyra. If she was going to play games with him, he’d play.

  “The name of the person is Lake. Marilyn Lake.”

  “Oh, I thought you were going to give me a male name.”

  So did I.

  He answered, “Did you? You must’ve misunderstood or I misspoke. This is a girl I’m tracking.”

  “Marilyn Lake. Left the system about ten years ago?”

  “Yes.”

  “Middle name?”

  “Monroe, if you can believe that, and her nickname was Mimi.”

  “I don’t laugh at anyone’s names. My name is Tara Scarlett, and I’m Chinese.” She shuffled some papers, or maybe that was chewing. “I will look into Marilyn Monroe Lake, and I’ll get back to you later today if I have the time. Is there a deadline on this?”

  “Today would be great if you can get to it, but there’s no urgency.”

  When the call ended, Jake sat in his car cupping his phone in his hands. The conversation with Tara had left a bad taste in his mouth, and he had to work hard to convince himself he wasn’t doing this as revenge for getting shut down by Kyra.

  Kyra was keeping something from him that he believed could help in this investigation. He had to trust that she didn’t think her information was relevant. He couldn’t see her allowing a killer to roam free if she really thought she had a way to stop him.

  Nonetheless, she wasn’t a detective.

  He’d been planning to ask Tara to research Matt, but if Matt and Kyra had shared the same foster family at one point, he might as well start with Kyra’s background—and that picture she took from Matt’s dresser mirror.

  Jake swung one leg out of the car and planted it on the ground. Though his phone had been going off while he’d been on the line with Tara, he didn’t plan on making this car his permanent office. He’d return the calls when he got back to his desk.

  As he got out of the car, Billy rushed toward him, pointing a finger at his chest. “You’re already in position, so you can drive.”

  Jake’s pulse jumped. “Drive where?”

  “There’s been another homicide. Our killer just gave us another chance to catch him.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Jake peeled off his gloves and shoved them into the pocket of his jacket. He flipped his sunglasses over his eyes and peered at Billy pacing the sidewalk in front of Crystal Monroe’s house, occasionally shouting instructions at some poor cop who got into his line of sight. His partner needed to talk to Kyra.

  Jake pulled back his shoulders and strode toward Billy. “I think we can let the CSI guys do their thing, Cool Breeze.”

  Billy’s nickname had never fit him less.

  He ran a hand through his short Afro, a muscle ticking wildly at the corner of his mouth. “Coroner’s van isn’t here yet. We could’ve missed something. I need to take another look at her, one more look at her hair.”

  Jake grabbed Billy’s sleeve as he turned toward the house. “That’s Crystal Monroe, brother. She’s not Sabrina, any more than Andrea was.”

  “But her hair, Jake.” Billy’s dark, liquid eyes pleaded with him. “There’s something about her hair.”

  Jake released Billy’s arm and patted it, while swiveling his head around. Nobody needed to see Billy falling apart at the scene of a homicide.

  “Sure, man. Let’s have another look at her hair.” He wiggled his fingers into another pair of gloves as he followed Billy back into the house and then the bedroom, where the body of Crystal lay tucked up in her bed.

  Poking his head into the room, Jake said, “Can I get you ladies and gents to clear out for a minute? One more thing we need to check on the body.”

  The crime scene techs grumbled as they packed away their equipment, and Clive, who was just about to dust for prints on the closet door, raised his eyebrows at Jake.

  Jake gave Clive a slight shrug and pulled the door closed after him. “Billy, you need to get it together. This is his second African American victim, but it doesn’t mean he’s specifically targeting Black women, and they have nothing to do with...”

  Billy raised a hand. “Sabrina used to do her hair like this sometimes, but Crystal’s looks uneven.”

  Jake turned his gaze to the pretty young woman with her curly hair dancing on her shoulders, the queen of diamonds between her lips and a stain on her yellow bedspread where her left hand lay, bereft of its pinkie finger.

  “Okay, Billy, check out her hair. Do your thing.”

  Billy reached out a trembling hand and took a lock of Crystal’s hair between his gloved fingers. He pulled it out straight to its full length. Keeping the hair extended, he repeated the process with the other side like a hairdresser checking for symmetry. It didn’t reach as far as the other lock of hair.

  Billy twisted his head over his shoulder, a triumphant light in his eyes, a lift to the corner of his mouth. He whispered, “He took it. He snipped off some of her hair to keep for himself.”

  And bam—Billy had
discovered the personal trophy for this killer, the one Quinn insisted had to exist to give the murders meaning beyond the copycat aspect.

  “Good job.” Jake thumped Billy on the back. “Now let’s allow the techs back in here before they riot.”

  As they walked to the car, Billy’s shoulders started to slump, and he was almost doubled over by the time Jake stuffed him into the passenger seat. He turned to Billy.

  “These women have nothing to do with your sister, Billy. Sabrina is not going to all of a sudden turn up a victim of this killer.”

  “Maybe not this killer.” Billy slammed his fist against the dashboard. “I’m sorry, Jake. I don’t know what came over me when I saw Crystal dead and realized we had a second Black victim. It’s not that it’s any more horrendous because this killer is targeting African American females. That’s not what has me upset.”

  Jake clapped Billy on the shoulder. “I know that. You’re thinking about Sabrina. You’re seeing your sister in these victims. It’s bringing back her disappearance all over again.”

  Billy covered his eyes briefly. “Did I make a fool of myself back there?”

  “I don’t think anyone other than me noticed you weren’t being Cool Breeze. However—” Jake started the engine “—we do have a therapist on the task force. Take advantage of that. Kyra’s here to help not just the victims’ families but the cops on the task force.”

  “Is she helping you?” Billy’s sly smile indicated he was coming back to himself.

  “I think we’re probably better off as colleagues.”

  “If you say so.” Billy grabbed the door handle.

  “Where are you going?” Jake asked.

  “We have to finish canvassing the neighborhood. I’m sure there are more than a few cameras around. No visible signs of break-in, victim murdered in bed. He was lying in wait for her, just like with Andrea. He knew her habits, knew she lived alone. He must’ve been stalking her.”

  “Are you all right? I can do it. You can take the car back to the station, and I’ll catch a ride with one of the patrol units.”

  “Really?” Billy tipped his sunglasses to the edge of his nose. “We all know I’m the charming one. How are you going to get those neighbors to talk?”

  Jake swallowed the lump in his throat. “Good to have you back.”

  He and Billy spent the next two hours going door-to-door, viewing and, in some cases, taking video footage from home security systems.

  If Crystal had a stalker, they were going to find him.

  * * *

  JAKE AND BILLY burst into the task force war room, their shoulders thrust back in confidence, their heads held high with bravado. Her heart flipped. Had they found something?

  Would Jake mention anything outside the task force briefing? He hadn’t bothered to tell her there had been another murder. She’d found out just like everyone else at the station.

  Her jaw hardened. If she’d put out last night for Jake, would she still be in his cozy confidence?

  Her eyes stung, and she blinked. That wasn’t fair to Jake. He’d been reading all her signs correctly until she saw that slip of paper. Now he wanted to get things back on a professional level to protect himself. She got that.

  She shoved away from her desk and marched up to the two detectives. “You guys look like you found something.”

  “We think he stalked this victim, too.” Billy’s gaze darted from Jake’s face to hers. “We’re going to compare some of the cars coming and going in Crystal’s neighborhood to the ones in Andrea’s neighborhood.”

  “I can start that.” Jake shoved Billy toward Kyra. “Why don’t you take our resident therapist out for lunch.”

  “Me?” Kyra poked a finger at her chest. “Things not going well with Megan? You need another setup?”

  “Ooh, savage.” Billy clutched his chest and fake-stumbled back. “Actually, I’d like to...get a few things off my chest, and Jake suggested I talk to you.”

  He did? Her skin tingled. She must not be completely on his blacklist.

  “Then lunch it is. Come get me when you’re ready. I’m going to reach out to Crystal’s family.” She sauntered back to her desk, and twenty minutes later Billy approached her, his usual swagger subdued.

  “I’ll drive, and I have a place in mind, if that’s okay.”

  “Lead the way.” She grabbed her sweater and purse from the back of her chair. Even in a mood, Billy displayed his chivalry by stopping at the door and sweeping her through with his arm.

  He led her to his sedan, and twenty minutes later they were seated in a booth in a dark Italian restaurant more suited to an illicit afternoon affair than a conversation about murder...although Kyra had a feeling they weren’t here to discuss the Copycat Player case, at least not directly.

  Billy got down to business after they both ordered chopped salads and iced teas. Hunching over the table, elbows planted on either side of the basket of garlic bread, Billy rested his chin on his folded hands. “I had a...a kind of breakdown this morning at Crystal’s murder scene.”

  She schooled her face into a smooth palette. Billy had been around the homicide block several times, and a strangulation did not usually present the most gruesome of murder scenes. Had he hit a wall this time?

  As the thoughts careened through her brain, pinging off each other, she simply said, “Go on.”

  “Crystal was a young African American woman, like Andrea Miles. And like I told Jake, the fact that the victims are Black or that this killer may be targeting Black women doesn’t make it worse because I’m also Black.” He ran a hand over his mouth. “But it does make it worse for me because my sister Sabrina disappeared five years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Poof.” He snapped his fingers. “She was gone without a trace. Took her keys, her phone, her car and then disappeared off the face of the earth.”

  Although Kyra had many questions about Sabrina’s disappearance, that was not why they were here. “Seeing these murdered women makes you think about Sabrina.”

  “Yes, and it’s crazy because neither of them particularly looked like my sister and Sabrina wasn’t assaulted or taken from her home. Her car, with her purse, her turned-off phone, her keys, was found abandoned at a store near the airport. No sign of foul play. So, it’s not like I believe Sabrina could’ve been a victim of this same killer five years ago. It’s just seeing these lifeless women reminds me of my sister.”

  “Did you have the same feelings of panic when you saw Andrea’s body, too, or just today?”

  “I felt—” he picked up a piece of garlic bread with his long fingers and ripped it apart “—strange when I saw Andrea’s body. Sad. I mean—don’t get me wrong—we always feel sad, bad, upset for the victims. We’re human, but we have a job to do there, and I’ve always been able to do that job dispassionately because that’s the best way to respond to get justice for these victims.”

  She nodded, and he dropped the mangled bread on his plate. “I don’t know why I’m telling you that. You’re good friends with Roger Quinn, one of the most legendary detectives LAPD has ever seen. I’m sure you know how we operate.”

  “I want to know how you operate.” She tipped her head at the approaching waiter, who seemed well versed in discretion.

  “Not like this.” Billy stabbed at his salad, spearing a pepperoncini. “How do you think I got my nickname?”

  She cocked her head, taking in his tailored shirt, a pale yellow she was pretty sure only he could pull off with the turquoise tie. “Jake assured me it was your sartorial splendor.”

  Billy’s familiar grin broke for the first time since she had seen him at the station. “That’s part of it, but I tend to keep a cool head during investigations. J-Mac is the hothead, but then you already know that.”

  “We’re here to talk about you.” She poked around her salad. �
��Why do you think you started losing your...cool over Andrea’s murder?”

  He set down his fork and gazed into his tea. “Maybe it’s the time of year. Summer to fall. There’s always a stillness to the air in LA about now. Do you feel it? It was like this when Sabrina went missing.”

  She did feel it. The Player had murdered her mother about the same time of year. In fact, that anniversary was approaching.

  Nodding, her mouth full, Kyra allowed Billy to set up the scene. She’d prefer he discuss his feelings, but he was a detective and narrative trumped feelings. He recited the events with no emotion, as if they’d been running through his head on a constant loop. They probably had been.

  “Sabrina was the youngest of my three sisters, sort of an afterthought. She was just twenty when she disappeared.” His hand fisted around his fork. “It’s not even classified as a homicide, even after all these years, because there was no evidence she didn’t leave voluntarily. I knew she hadn’t, though. She wouldn’t. She was in school, working, had a social life.”

  Kyra asked, “You were a detective at that time?”

  “Yeah, that’s the crazy part. It was my job, and I couldn’t find her.”

  “Did she disappear in the Northeast Division?”

  He swallowed. “No. She was living in Riverside at the time.”

  “So, finding her really wasn’t your job, was it?” She swirled the ice in her glass with a straw. “But finding this second copycat, the one who murdered these two African American women, is your job.”

  “We have to get him, Kyra. We can’t let him get away with this. Those families need justice. Hell, all families need justice. Those women need justice...and so does Sabrina.”

  “You’ve brought justice to a lot of families, Billy, yet all that can’t make up for your failure to find Sabrina.”

  He choked on a leaf of lettuce and covered the lower half of his face with a napkin. “You just told me it’s not my fault, not my failure.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  “I don’t.” He crumpled the napkin on the table, keeping it in his hand. “Do you think if we catch this guy, I can forgive myself? Maybe come to believe Sabrina’s disappearance isn’t my fault?”