by LS Sygnet
"It's a pretty compelling theory. So you're thinking that for some reason, this guy came back and revisited the first crime on Gwen and killed her this time. Why after all these years?"
"I don't know."
"Sit down. You're making me dizzy."
I flopped into a chair, one leg still bouncing wildly. "If I can figure out what made him abandon his preference, I'll be a step closer to understanding all of this."
"No shit, Sherlock." Maya held up one hand. "I know. Don't call you Sherlock."
"This is some deep seeded psychopathy. I haven't seen anything this pervasive, covering so many years and so brilliantly concealed … ever."
Her mouth pulled downward. "You almost sound like you admire this guy, Helen."
"I'd love to dig around in his psyche, Maya. It goes no further than that, believe me. This guy is a predator, make no mistake. He's careful. He's dangerous. He's intelligent. He's got to at minimum have knowledge of forensics and police procedure."
"When you said he's concealed all of this for so many years, what did you mean exactly? We're talking fifteen, right?"
"More like thirty," I said.
"Helen, how old is this guy?"
"Old."
"Then how is he able to overpower young girls?"
"It's like you said. Foster was killed by someone smaller and weaker. Without any bodies for the missing girls, we have no evidence of partnership in the past, nor for Brighton Bennett, thanks to the lackadaisical approach to autopsy by Riley Storm. Gwen is the first one where we have DNA that can definitively link this guy to the unsolved sexual assaults. Do you see why I need a rush on that DNA?"
"We can only push it to the front of the line. The science takes as long as the science takes."
"In the meantime, I can start looking for these victims, see if their stories square with each other. I could learn a hell of a lot about his ritual."
"Now there's a ritual?"
"There's got to be. Something about the survivors was different from the girls who died. I need to know what that was."
"Why would anyone help this guy commit these crimes?"
"It wouldn't be the first time a couple got their jollies from raping and killing together. Recent history is peppered with this kind of psychopathy. Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka. Phillip and Nancy Garrido."
Maya shuddered. "How could a woman knowingly cooperate with her husband keeping a child in the backyard, impregnating her more than once, and simply go along with it?" in reference to the Garrido's.
"Or take part in the rape and murder of your own little sister," I referenced Bernardo and Homolka. "It boggles the mind, but make no mistake, Maya. The best way to stop these monsters isn't to put them to death. They need to be put under a psychological microscope until we understand what created them."
"In a hospital?"
"Prison," I said. "Hospitalization would be too kind."
Even Dad would agree that there was no conceivable justification for murdering, raping or otherwise abusing innocent children. In fact, he would especially agree.
Chapter 20
Charlie Haverston looked rested and fresh as a daisy when I met him in the lobby at Central Division at eight fifteen. His eyes bugged.
"What in the world happened to you?"
"You don't like my transformation?"
"Dr. Eriksson –"
"Charlie, after this case, we at worst are on a first name basis."
His voice dipped low, and he pulled me aside. "What in God's name is going on? The crime lab called and said they found more surveillance devices. Orion's bodyguard took off with your luggage. You didn't answer your phone –"
I pulled the cell out of my pocket and stared at the dead screen. "I haven't charged it. I'm sorry, Charlie. I've been working on the profile all night."
"And to make matters worse, Danny Datello is upstairs in an interview room cooling his heels for the last fifteen minutes waiting for someone who looked like a no-show."
"I'm here now. Waiting a few minutes isn't going to kill Datello. I'm sure he doesn't like it, but this isn't his ballgame, Charlie. This is our turf, remember?"
"Weber is looking for you."
"Yippie."
"Helen, this is serious. Something is going on around here and for the first time I can remember, nobody's talking about it."
"Good. A little discretion at Central Division is long overdue. I'm gonna run up and talk to Datello. Let Hardy and Weber know that I can meet with them after I finish this interview."
"I don't think they're willing to wait."
"Too bad. They brought me here to solve crimes. That doesn't happen by executive committee." I paused before heading toward the stairs. "Do I look utterly unexpected?"
Charlie shook his head and laughed. "I barely recognized you. What's with the get-up?"
"I spent the night in the morgue and as you well know, someone else has custody of my luggage. Come down to the interview after you talk to Chief Weber. I want you part of this conversation, Charlie."
A pin dropping would've echoed when I marched through the squad room and headed for interview. Caffeine thrummed through my veins and excited every nerve in my body until they congealed into a solid mass in my gut. Walking into a room with Danny Datello was either the most brilliant thing I would ever do or the most ill-advised.
There was no avoiding it. He knew I was here. I knew he was here. Doubt swirled through my brain about the bumbling PI's Orion was convinced Datello hired. Like many other things bouncing around me, it didn't add up.
Squelching the temptation to observe Datello from behind the glass was difficult. My hand hesitated, trembled even when I reached for the doorknob. What did Datello suspect, and what did he know? My lower lip endured a little more damage. Keep them off balance, Helen. It's your best weapon. Wendell's advice blanketed me with a sense of calm confidence. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Datello sat at the table, navy blue Armani from shoulders to floor. It must've been en vogue this season. Garish diamond cufflinks pierced his starched white sleeves. Face a little too olive, hair a little too black, hands a little too pudgy. Uncle Sully would see him as a soft man.
Cold brown eyes impaled me. I was impervious to his attempt at intimidation. Until he stood.
Datello dwarfed his east coast family. Funny, the details one misses when she doesn't realize she should be paying attention.
"Mr. Datello?"
"Dr. Eriksson, I presume."
"Good. We've heard of each other." I relaxed a little at his willingness to play the first introduction game.
"Please be seated," the fat left hand with an effeminate pinky ring, an enormous sapphire set in gold and circled by diamonds, glittered under the fluorescence.
My house, Datello. "After you. Please, I insist."
"I was somewhat surprised to receive a summons to Central Division, Dr. Eriksson. Even more surprised that they've delegated my missing person's report to the infamous criminal profiler fresh from Quantico."
I sat down and stared hard. "This isn't about a missing person's report, Mr. Datello. As a matter of fact, Gwen Foster isn't missing at all."
One raven brow twitched. "Do tell, doctor."
"It's detective now, if you don't mind."
Datello jerked at his cuffs, twisted his neck slightly. "I hadn't heard. I suppose congratulations are in order. George must be beside himself at scoring such an impressive coup for the department."
"Aren't you interested in where Gwen Foster is right now?"
"Judging from your sanctimonious tone, I'd say that Gwen is in police custody, being offered some illegal enticement to manufacture evidence against me. Isn't that why you're really here, detective?"
I shook my head. "Wrong, wrong, and no comment."
His laughter chilled me and knotted the mass in my belly a little tighter. "Then where is she?"
"At the present moment, most of Ms. Foster is in the Bay County Morgue."
> One swift intake of breath served as his reaction.
"However, we haven't recovered all of her, just yet, but I have high hopes. The reason I asked you here is two-fold. Number one, you were Gwen's employer. I'd imagine you knew her quite well. Any information, no matter how insignificant you might find it would be helpful to me in –"
"Shut up!"
"Excuse me?"
"When was she killed?"
"Tuesday."
"It's Thursday and you people are telling me now?"
"Which brings me to fold number two. I need Vinnie Bennett back in Darkwater Bay. Today, preferably."
"You can't possibly think that child had anything to do with this! He adores … adored her. We all did."
"Then you'll cooperate fully with my investigation?"
Tiny lines appeared around Datello's eyes. "Is this why you're out here, Helen?"
"I'll ask the questions if you don't mind."
"Anything that might pertain to Gwen is at your disposal. I'll see to it that Vinnie is back home today on one condition."
"What would that be, Mr. Datello?"
"You treat him with respect. He is not a suspect in this. I have half a dozen employees that can verify that he's been in San Diego since Sunday night."
"He's not a suspect," I agreed.
"I'd ask for your word, but you know I don't trust it."
"Fair enough. We don't trust each other. But I'll give my word just the same. Vinnie Bennett is not a suspect in his cousin's murder. Nor is he a suspect in a murder that is linked to Gwen's."
"Linked to … what murder?" Datello's olive skin paled to the range of day old corpse. "My God. Most of her remains are at the morgue! No. No, no, no, no, no. That's not possible."
"I hear that you and Frank Bennett forged quite a friendship after your initial squabble over environmental protection. It must've been a serious blow to the friendship when you brought the man accused of killing Brighton Bennett into the community." I perched my elbows on the table, folded my hands and rested my chin atop the stack. "Interesting what happened to Mr. Masconi after the charges against him were dropped, don't you think?"
Datello stiffened. "I'm unaware of where he went or what he did after Johnny Orion's infamous mistake. If you want those details, I'm afraid you'll have to talk to him, Detective Eriksson."
"Oh, I have talked to him. He, like everyone else, has no clue where Salvatore Masconi moved. I find that particularly interesting."
"Why?"
I shrugged. "Just a peculiarity. Are you aware that Gwen Foster has a child somewhere in the world?"
Datello's jaw clenched. He knew. At least, he knew more than he was willing to share.
"How does that kind of information help you find Salvatore Masconi, detective?"
"I don't think Sal killed her. In fact, I think you were right when you said it wasn't possible. Could I offer you a drink, Mr. Datello? You look a little … dry."
"I'm fine," he half-snarled the words at me. "You look ridiculous by the way. What are you doing, moonlighting at Dunhaven on your time off?"
"I don't know what Dunhaven is, but no, I'm not moonlighting. I'm serious about solving this murder, Mr. Datello. I can't help but have my interest piqued by your initial assumption of where Gwen was this morning. Did she have knowledge of some of your business practices that might've been, I don't know, of specific interest to the police?"
"My businesses are clean."
I stared, let the silence soak the room until Datello shifted in his chair.
"I am not involved in illegal activities, Helen. Despite certain relatives –"
"So Gwen didn't know anything to tell the police. That's why you assumed we would entice her to confabulate, correct?"
Datello folded his hands on the table, twisted the pinky ring, moved to the diamond encrusted band on his left ring finger. "We had no secrets. There was nothing for Gwen to tell the police or the FBI or anyone else. I've done nothing wrong, and my business operations are all completely legitimate."
"You're married?"
"Yes."
"Congratulations. Married long?"
"Three years."
"That's a fair amount of time, I suppose. Hard to hold a marriage together sometimes, isn't it?"
"I'm afraid you'd know more about that than I would."
"Have you been back east lately, Danny?"
"I was tempted to attend a funeral recently, but in the end felt that my presence would be unwise. How was it?"
"Rainy. Cold. Cheerful event."
"You bitch," he rasped softly. Eyes darted to the window behind me.
That's right, Datello. Feel the eyes watching, just like I do.
"If there were no secrets, why didn't you know about Gwen's child?"
"We had a business relationship, detective."
"So Gwen wasn't invited to the wedding?"
"It was a private event, in Hawaii."
"Were you aware that Gwen hired Johnny Orion?"
Fists clenched. "She did no such thing."
"Oh, but she did. Orion won't tell me why, but Gwen definitely had him watching her day and night."
"If Gwen had a problem, she would've come to me."
"I have documentation, Mr. Datello. For the past three months, Orion was camped outside Gwen's house standing guard. Are you certain that Gwen would've turned to you if she had a problem?"
Doubt flickered in his eyes. "She would've, without a single doubt. Gwen and I shared a very close relationship. I've known her since she was a young girl."
"She was pretty, yes?"
He nodded.
"Like Brighton."
"You're not implying that I had anything to do with that." Datello slammed his fists on the table. "This is exactly what I meant when I said that you would be respectful."
"I was simply curious. Did you know Brighton too?"
"No. Her mother remarried and was essentially estranged from the Bennett family."
"Do you know what I find frustrating?"
"I'm not sure I want to know, or need that information, detective."
"You and Orion don't beat around the bush about how much you despise one another, yet I get the feeling that you both have information that you're not willing to share. I think it's important. I'll remind you of something I mentioned to Johnny when we last spoke. Withholding information in a criminal investigation is a crime. I hope, when the truth finally comes out – and it will – that I'm wrong, that you two have been as helpful and forthcoming as possible. If not, you'll be spending a lot of time together while the DA sorts out the charges."
"I'm not afraid of you, Helen. And the truth coming out? That's a double-edged sword. You might do well to remember that."
"Call me when you've got Vinnie back in Darkwater Bay. I'd appreciate it if you don't tell him why I need to speak to him."
"You will not treat him like a criminal."
I pasted a cold smile on my face. "You have my word."
"Are we finished, detective?"
"Sure, oh, one other thing. Give my regards to Uncle Sully the next time you speak."
"And give mine to Rick. I have a feeling you'll be seeing him soon."
Chapter 21
My heart wasn't pounding as much as it was quivering. Cold seeped through my chest cavity. Datello just threatened my life. The problem was, I couldn't explain the nature of the threat without exposing something I didn't want anyone to know.
If I had latched onto Marie's propensity for prayer, I would've been doing it like crazy – that I could get to Datello before he got to me, that the only eyes behind the glass watching that thinly veiled game of one-upsmanship was Charlie Haverston. He was green enough to placate.
Hope dashed hard and sparked a little life into my heart. It took off in a staccato that would've won a round of dueling banjos. The door to the observation room swung open. Somber George Hardy and stricken Donald Weber stared at me with horrified expressions.
Behind them,
I got a glimpse of smug plastered on Jerry Lowe's face. Beside him, Chris Darnell looked ready to spit bullets in a succession that would rival my heartbeat.
"Helen, we need to talk. Now."
They filed out of the room, followed by Charlie, who simply mouthed, I'm sorry.
"Wait for me in the lobby, Charlie. We need to plan what happens next."
"Helen?" Weber turned and waited for me to follow.
"Sir," we stepped onto the ancient elevator.
"Not now, Helen," George said. Not particularly friendly.
I didn't think the interview was that bad. The car was saturated with too many emotions to sift through. Anger. Fear. Panic. Regret. Those were just mine.
Alarm spiked because of the unexpected crowd watching my little chat with Datello. How much had he said? Anything that might betray details that were better left quiet? And where was Rodney? I couldn't fathom why Jerry Lowe was part of this motley crew.
"In the conference room," George said.
There already. Noose tightening. Run now. I don't need money. I don't need this.
Jerry Lowe's hand slipped over the small of my back. "That was brilliant, Helen. I'd love to talk about how you managed to irritate him out of that calm veneer he wears all the time."
"Give it a rest, Lowe," Darnell piped up from the rear. "It's not rocket science, right, Dr. Eriksson?"
My blood froze. Paranoia has that effect. Who was the last person I dropped that phrase to? Maya? Haverston? At Orion's place, when I talked to Briscoe and Conall…
I gritted my teeth and marched into the conference room. "Commissioner Hardy, did we not reach an agreement that outlined my authority to investigate this case?"
"We did, Helen, but –"
"And in that agreement, did I not stipulate that I would not tolerate interference with the legal practices necessary to advance this investigation to a successful conclusion?"
"You did, but –"
"And –"
"Jesus," Darnell muttered, "would you let the man speak, Dr. Eriksson? Or were you this insubordinate to your superiors in the FBI too?"
"They teach a class at Quantico."
Air blasted from his nostrils. "Unbelievable."