Killing Jane: An Erin Prince Thriller

by Stacy Green

  “But why the offshore deposits?” Beckett asked. “Why not cash?”

  “Because he’s married and influential,” Clark suggested. “Big cash withdrawals raise questions with the wife. He keeps money in an offshore account because if the wife finds out about his philandering, she’ll take everything. This way, he’s got a safety net. Then Bonnie comes along, and it’s the perfect way to help her.”

  “Or pay her blackmail,” Erin said. “We keep talking about her blackmailing one of her sex partners, but what if it’s Simon Archer? Her uncle’s likely got the means to pay her, and if it ever got out that he covered for a child molester, he’d be ruined.”

  “But then where does Virginia come in?” Beckett asked. “She and Bonnie are loosely connected by the school and Sarah, but her murder doesn’t make sense in either of those scenarios.”

  “The killer called Virginia Walton a snitch and herself—or himself—the name Jane. Maybe Jane’s the jilted wife. Bonnie confides in the professor. Jane takes them both out. Or Simon paid someone to take care of the situation, and you’re right about Jane being a smokescreen.”

  Clark played with a yellow stress ball, squeezing it until his knuckles nearly popped out of their sockets. “Where are you with Sarah Archer’s alibi for both murders?”

  “Two neighbors remember Sarah’s car being there the night of Bonnie’s murder and last night,” Erin said. “Out of twelve local cab companies, no one has picked anyone up from her parents’ home in the last ten days. So far, none of the places providing personal drivers have any record of picking up Sarah, either. One company has picked up Simon at his home multiple times but not within the last week and never Sarah.”

  “So other than her personal connection with both women, we’ve got nothing else on Sarah Archer?” Clark asked.

  “No,” Erin said. “Beckett doesn’t think she’s telling us everything.”

  Clark mushed the ball between this thumb and index finger. “What about you?”

  Erin shrugged. “I think she’s got her head buried in her thesis and doesn’t see anything she doesn’t want to. We’ve still got to go back over the security footage from The Point, and I think our time is better spent trying to find Tori and talking to Ricky Stout.”

  “Probably so,” Clark said. “Let her stew unless we get something on the trace evidence side.”

  The same desperation from this morning flashed across Beckett’s face. “Tori might be a legitimate suspect, but he’s a ghost at this point. Where does Ricky Stout fit into all of this? And don’t forget Mina and Charlie. Who are they to our victims? I still feel like we’re chasing our tails, and we’ve fallen off the map.

  Erin didn’t want to admit she felt the same way—flailing in the dark searching for something living only in her imagination.

  Clark rolled his neck from side to side, wincing as it cracked. “The assistant chief’s on his way down to bitch Fowler and me out for the lack of progress in the Ted Moore case. No one wants to talk about which gangbanger killed the guy. Imagine.” His deep voice dripped with sarcasm. “And this double homicide. With the Goddamned media in tow.”

  He turned his angry eyes on Erin. “Speaking of which, you want to tell me why you told that redheaded reporter the same person killed Bonnie and Virginia?”

  “What?” Erin’s guts lurched. “I didn’t say anything to her but ‘no comment.’”

  Clark pointed at his computer. “The article says you confirmed.”

  Erin shook her head, but the morning swam back to her. The reporter goading her about her family, angling to use her involvement as the main story. “I said victims. Plural. Oh God, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure her panty-chasing source would have told her anyway. But you need to be careful what you say, Prince. These people will twist your words to the very limit of the First Amendment.”

  The mistake didn’t hinder the investigation, but Erin’s pride wanted to run away in shame. Stupid rookie mistake.

  “The Archers are going to come at you hard,” Clark said. “They called me this morning as soon as Channel 4 broke the story, asking why we suddenly have more manpower with a prominent professor as a victim.”

  “We have more manpower?” Beckett looked around Clark’s crowded office. “Is there a turd in your pocket?”

  Clark snickered. “Not until the assistant chief’s done with me. But apparently that’s the line of bullshit the media is peddling.”

  Erin couldn’t join in the humor. She kept picturing the redhead’s smug face. She played Erin exactly as she wanted to.

  Clark waved his hand in the direction of the door. “So you two better get out of here unless you’re interested in bending over for an epic ass douching.”

  Erin didn’t wait and hurried out the door.

  Beckett caught up with her in the hallway. “Erin, wait a minute.”

  She stopped but didn’t turn around. She didn’t want him to see the tears welling in her eyes.

  “You didn’t jeopardize the case.”

  She rubbed her eyes until stars danced in front of them. At least she hadn’t had time to put mascara on this morning. “I played right into her hands.”

  “You did.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m not going to say it doesn’t matter, because it bugs you,” Beckett said. “So it matters to you. But you live and learn for next time. That’s all you can do.”

  “You’re right.” At least she could still fake confidence. “So how do we handle the Archers?”

  “We go in soft, understanding. Expect to be yelled at. They’re hurting, they want answers, and they see us as the reason they aren’t getting any information.”

  “How do we softly ask them whether they knew Bonnie made amateur porn?”

  “We don’t unless we absolutely have to. Kid gloves, right?”

  This had all the makings of a grand clusterfuck. Erin kept silent as she led the way down the hall to the open interview room.

  Carmen Archer sat at the table, staring blankly at the wall, looking drastically different than she had a few nights ago. Locks of her hair clung to her tired face, and gray bags hung under her eyes. Her cheeks drooped, and her mouth sagged. She’d aged a decade in days. Her husband paced the small space in front of the window. He stopped short at Erin’s knock, his bright, angry eyes honing in on her.

  “We’re sorry to keep you waiting,” Erin said, taking the seat across from Carmen. “How are you holding up?”

  Carmen shook her head.

  Neil immediately turned on them. “How are we holding up? You couldn’t make any headway on our daughter’s murder, but you’re adding additional investigators because the bastard killed a more prominent woman? Or is it because some crazy person is copying Jack the Ripper?”

  Erin froze, trying to think of the right response. Red must have talked to the right people this time.

  “I’m not sure where you heard that, Mr. Archer.” Beckett kept his voice soothing and patient. He sat down next to Carmen. “Our unit is stretched thin. We’ve had some help from our sergeant, but everyone’s overloaded. Investigator Prince and I are the only two working the case. As for a Jack the Ripper copycat, we have no such thing.”

  “That’s not what the reporter said.” Neil Archer said.

  “What reporter?” Erin asked.

  “The one from Channel 4 who called an hour ago. She said both women were gutted like the Ripper victims, and the killer left messages referring to the Jack the Ripper murders.”

  Erin tried to keep her face neutral, but inside her heart galloped. A lot of people had access to Bonnie’s crime scene, but Clark managed to keep the professor’s on lockdown thanks to the quick thinking of the responding patrol officer. Only a handful of people knew about the messages.

  Jane must still be a secret. The press would have raced with the information.

  “We can’t comment on details,” Beckett deflected again. “But I can tell you this isn’
t a Ripper copycat.”

  “I think you’re lying,” Neil said. “At this point, I trust the media more than you.”

  “Mr. Archer, we’ve told you everything we can. That’s why we wanted to talk to you today. We have more information to share, which means more questions to ask.”

  Nothing shook Beckett, Erin grudgingly admitted. Either that, or he managed to hide it well.

  “Why haven’t you formed a task force then?” Neil demanded. “Two women are dead. What’s it going to take?”

  More murders. But Erin didn’t dare voice the idea, and no answer would satisfy Neil. “Would you like to sit down? The things we’re about to ask you aren’t going to be easy to talk about.”

  “I prefer to stand,” Neil snapped. “And before you say a word, we know Bonnie and Sarah had starting talking. She called us and apologized. Carmen talked to her.”

  “What did she say?” Erin rested her hands on the table, giving Carmen what she hoped looked like a kind smile but felt more like an exhausted grimace.

  “She said she found Bonnie because she missed her.” Carmen sounded hoarse. “They kept it from her parents. She knew we would have understood as long as Bonnie stayed away from Simon.”

  Neil grunted, eyebrows slashing into one solid line at the mention of his brother’s name.

  “You wouldn’t have approved?” Beckett remained standing as well, leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. “Even though Sarah wasn’t the reason for your family falling out?”

  “She’s a reminder,” Neil said. “She told you about Bonnie’s sexual abuse. But my brother accusing her of lying really screwed her up. She believed she did something wrong! Therapy helped for a while—until puberty turned everything upside down. She started hanging around the wrong people. She was raped. Then she got addicted to pain killers. All to deal with the self-loathing my brother caused.”

  “Did Simon molest Bonnie?” Erin asked quietly. The vast majority of children were molested by family members or close family friends. Sarah had said a family friend, but she might not have been told the entire truth. Little kids lied to protect their parents all the time, no matter how horrifically the adults made them suffer.

  “No.” Neil clenched his hands like he wanted to throttle her. “And I’m not giving you a name. It’s in the past, and Bonnie’s dead. The bastard got away with it because my stupid brother, the big-shot attorney, is an asshole. Bonnie had obvious physical signs of being molested, but we had no DNA, no hair, nothing. Just an eight-year-old’s word against a powerful man.”

  Erin didn’t comment on the slip. “If you didn’t report it, then how do you know DNA evidence couldn’t be recovered?”

  “He made sure it didn’t exist.”

  Erin wanted to argue a search warrant would have garnered an extensive search of wherever Bonnie said the abuse took place and that DNA could hide in places people never think of. But instead, she said, “Bonnie was old enough to understand what happened and who did it. Why didn’t you give her the opportunity to tell the police?”

  Neil’s mouth puckered, the bags beneath his eyes making his face appear swollen. “Because my brother said he would act as defense attorney, and he would make our lives—including Bonnie’s—hell. She’d always had an active imagination. She entertained everyone with wild stories. He even had home movies of her and Sarah doing plays. And these weren’t typical kid plays. They always had bad things happening, always had conflict. Bonnie didn’t want to have to talk about it. She didn’t want to have to fight her uncle. She wanted it to go away.” His voice cracked. “Simon coached Sarah. She stood right in their living room and primly told us that Bonnie told her daddy did it, and she made up the story so the abuse would stop.”

  “Sarah was six years old. They taught her how to lie,” Carmen said. “She told us she needed years of therapy to deal with it all. Sarah became nearly as much of a victim as Bonnie.”

  Erin worked to keep the harsh accusation out of her voice. This was her specialty, the experience she could bring to the table to match Beckett’s homicide knowledge. “Do you seriously believe Sarah needed years of therapy just for being coached to lie as a six-year-old?”

  Carmen’s pale cheeks turned red. “I don’t know.”

  “You realize this same person likely abused Sarah as well, either during the time of Bonnie’s abuse or after? Especially since the abuser had access to her.”

  Tears welled in Carmen’s eyes. “We tried to talk to Simon and Melinda, but they were so livid and made so many threats. We had to put Bonnie first.”

  “So you decided Bonnie would be better off by cutting ties with the family and going to therapy?” Erin held no judgment. She’d like to think she would have made the man pay if Abby had been a victim, but she’d seen too many families go through absolute hell during the trial phase. And she knew full well how powerful money and influence could be.

  Neil jerked his head up and down. Tears welled in his eyes. “When she started doing drugs, I blamed myself. I never could stand up to Simon.”

  “Sarah believes the man who abused Bonnie left town sometime after you found out.”

  “He left town shortly after, though Simon never believed Bonnie told the truth.” Carmen rubbed her already bloodshot eyes. “I don’t understand why we’re going over this. It has nothing to do with Bonnie’s death.”

  “We’re trying to gather as much information about Bonnie as we can,” Erin said. “You’re sure he’s no longer living in the area?”

  “Positive.” Neil Archer spoke with finality.

  Erin’s nerves rippled with desperation. “I promise you the information will stay with us,” she tried again. “We need to know Bonnie’s state of mind in the last few months, and with Sarah back in her life, it’s possible they discussed the abuse. Don’t you think Bonnie finding out Sarah took her place would have been devastating to Bonnie? She may have tried to contact him, looking for closure.”

  “She didn’t.” Neil’s hard gaze landed on Beckett. “I’m not answering any more questions about it. You said you had a suspect?”

  How could he be so sure? He’d said the man was an important figure—did he remain in the public eye? Or had Neil Archer made it his life’s mission to keep tabs on the man he more than likely allowed to continue molesting other little girls? In Erin’s mind, that sad truth hurt the most. Neil should have stood up to his brother to prevent future victims.

  Beckett took over. “Did Bonnie ever mention a man named Ricky?”

  Both parents shook their heads. “I don’t remember a Ricky.”

  “You knew about her study group at the ALC this past summer, right?”

  A tiny glow of pride in Carmen’s eyes. “I did. She loved helping others. Was Ricky in her group?”

  Shaking his head, Beckett directed his question to Carmen. “We’d hoped you might be able to tell us more about him.”

  “She never mentioned him,” Carmen said. “And she told us everything as part of her therapy.”

  Erin glanced at Beckett. He scratched his chin and then the back of his neck. Letting them wait for a minute. Or working up to the anger he expected to receive?

  “What is it?” Neil demanded. “We have a right to know about our daughter’s case.”

  “Mr. Archer,” Beckett started, “please understand we have to keep some details private because the investigation is still open. But we can tell you your daughter had over $100,000 in a savings account. Is that something you set up for her?”

  Neil Archer blinked. “That’s not possible,” Neil said. “We helped her out occasionally, but we couldn’t do much. She had a grant for school, but there’s no way. You must be mistaken.”

  “I’m afraid we’re not,” Beckett said. “Which means Bonnie did something you didn’t know about to earn quite a bit of money. And it likely got her killed.”

  “Not drugs,” Carmen said, as if drugs were the only real evil Bonnie could have wandered into. “She was clean.”

/>   “Yes,” Erin said. “But she could have been dealing. Bonnie never worked at Daniel’s. She worked at Sid’s Gentleman’s Club near the Capitol as an exotic dancer.” Erin couldn’t bring herself to say stripper. It seemed like a cruel taunt to the already shocked couple.

  “No.” Neil’s fist shook the table. “You’re lying.”

  Carmen’s eyes darted to her husband’s and then to the table, her hands clasped as though in prayer.

  “I’m afraid we’re not,” Beckett said. “We’ve confirmed it with both establishments as well as her boyfriend. We also found evidence she filmed in the attic.” He cleared his throat. “Of a sexual nature. And our crime scene experts believe a wireless transmitter was taken. You also confirmed Bonnie had a laptop. That’s missing as well.”

  Neil’s face bloomed red. “Are you saying our daughter made porn?”

  “We don’t know anything for sure,” Beckett said. “We’re telling you the facts as we know them.”

  “I don’t understand.” Carmen Archer appeared unfazed by the attic revelation. “Sarah told us she introduced Bonnie to Virginia Walton. We already knew Bonnie had spoken with her about Pathways. If Bonnie was killed because of this money or something bad she got herself into, then why would the same person kill the psychologist?”

  “We think Bonnie may have confided in Professor Walton.” Erin wasn’t at all sure of this, but she had to give them something. “Carmen, how long did you know Bonnie worked at the gentleman’s club?”

  Carmen paled further. “I didn’t.”

  “I watched your reaction,” Erin said gently. “You weren’t surprised.”

  Carmen said nothing, not quite looking at her husband, who stared at her as though he’d never seen her before.

  “I’m not trying to cause friction,” Erin said. “And I don’t judge Bonnie. But she told you about Sid’s. What else did she tell you?”