The 7th Victim kv-1

by Alan Jacobson

  As Vail drove down Potomac River Road, darkness’s arrival seemed to accelerate, the remaining light filtered by the dense blind of branches and leaves. She hung a right onto a shoulderless single-lane residential road and flicked on her dome light to check the directions she had scribbled on a piece of paper. The house on the left was an Early American three-story brick mansion. Vail squinted at the lamppost, which lit an address sign surrounded by well-manicured hedges. She turned onto the gravel driveway that cut through an expansive lawn and led straight to the entrance of the home.

  Security lights popped on as her car approached the circular turnaround. She parked and got out, walked up to the door, and pressed the bell. A hearty chime sounded up and down the scale. Ten seconds passed, but it seemed like minutes before the hand-tooled oak door finally swung open.

  Chase Hancock stood there, eyebrows raised slightly. “Vail, what are you doing here? Come to beg your way back onto the task force? Or did you come here to kick my butt?”

  “That’s funny, Hancock. I’d prefer the latter, but it’s none of your business why I’m here. Is Senator Linwood in?”

  Hancock squinted. “Are you here on official business? Otherwise, call ahead and make an appointment.”

  Vail forced a smile. “Thanks so much for that thoughtful bit of advice, but I’m not in the mood for your bullshit. My business is with the senator, not with you. Now move aside or I’ll move you myself.”

  Hancock stepped forward and threw his chest out. “You’re trespassing, Vail. I suggest you turn around and leave with your tail between your legs before I arrest you. Citizen’s arrest, I can still do that.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” The voice came from behind Hancock. Vail craned her neck around his wide body and saw Eleanor Linwood standing there, still dressed in her business suit.

  “I’m sorry we made so much noise, Senator,” Hancock said. “I’ll take care of this. Agent Vail was just leaving.”

  But Linwood continued to move forward and was now standing beside her head security agent. “That’s okay, Chase, I’ll take it from here.”

  “But—”

  She turned her head to face his. “I’ve got it, thank you.”

  Though it was a moment Vail wanted to savor—she hadn’t had many of those lately—she struggled to contain her smile.

  As soon as Hancock walked off, Linwood’s face hardened. “You wanted to see me, Agent Vail.”

  “Yes, Senator. I wanted to speak to you about . . . a private matter. Can we go somewhere to talk?”

  Without comment, Linwood turned and walked down the wood plank hallway, her heels clicking as they struck the floor. Vail followed, her head rubbernecking in all directions as she took in the décor: the high ceilings and ten-foot windows of the formal dining room, rough-hewn beams, stone fireplace, and lace curtains of the living room. They turned left into a smaller room with a paisley sofa and hardwood plantation shutters. Linwood sat on the edge of the couch and motioned Vail to do the same. Vail reached over and shut the door, an action Linwood found suspicious, judging by the squint of her eyes.

  “What can I do for you, Agent Vail? Or is it your policy to drop in on elected officials’ homes unannounced?”

  She put Vail on the defensive with practiced ease. “I apologize, Senator. I didn’t think you’d see me if I called ahead.”

  “Perhaps you’re correct.” She glanced at her watch. “And unless you provide me with a compelling reason for this visit in the next thirty seconds, I’ll have my very efficient security agent show you the door.”

  Vail bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t care for the senator’s smug attitude, but at the moment, she tried to see it from her point of view. Vail hadn’t yet given her an explanation.

  “If this is about being removed from the task force, I’m afraid that’s something you’ll have to take up with the police department. Contrary to what you may’ve heard, I have no influence over the machinations of the Fairfax County PD.”

  “With all due respect, I don’t believe that for one moment. However, that’s not why I’m here.” Linwood started to object, but Vail held up a hand. “I want to tell you a story about two women born—”

  “I don’t have time for bedtime stories, Agent Vail. I’ve got—”

  “You’ll want to hear this one, Senator.” Vail had leaned forward, her eyebrows hunched downward. “It’s a story about two sisters born in Brooklyn. One of them, nine years older, always seemed to be the one who made the correct decisions in life. The younger one went out of her way to be different and often got into trouble.”

  Linwood rose from the couch. “I don’t see what this has to do with anything—”

  “I’ll get to the point,” Vail said, then began speaking faster. “The younger sister—we’ll call her Nellie—got herself pregnant. This angered her parents, a good Catholic family who didn’t believe in premarital sex. They disowned her. Depressed and unprepared for dealing with a newborn, Nellie showed up at her older sister’s house. She asked her sister to watch the baby for a couple of hours while she went to a movie. Nellie never returned, and the baby was raised by the aunt and uncle.”

  Vail detected tears in Linwood’s eyes. The senator sunk down in the couch and Vail continued: “Nellie, out on her own, got a couple of low-paying jobs before realizing she needed to straighten herself up. She met someone, an up-and-coming heir to a booming family business that supplied shipping containers to international transportation companies. Having just graduated from Harvard with his MBA, the man met Nellie and fell in love. Now here’s the interesting part,” Vail said, leaning forward. “Her knight in shining armor helped her get a new social security number, new name, new background, new identity. Nellie ceased to exist.” Vail reached into her shoulder-slung portfolio case and removed a hunk of papers. She dropped them on the couch beside Linwood. “It’s all in there.”

  Linwood’s eyes fell to the stack of documents, atop which was a copy of the picture of Emma and Nellie Irwin. Linwood gently removed the photo and looked at it for a long moment. She then noticed the computer-enhanced image, and raised an eyebrow. Her gaze drifted away, coming to rest on the turn-of-the-century wood floor. Finally, she spoke. “Nellie needed to start a new life. When she met Richard, it was like a dream come true. His father had the connections to make her past go away. And to give her a new future. It was much easier to do in those days.” After a moment, her eyes found Vail’s. “You’ll never prove any of it. I don’t care what’s in those papers. You go to the media, I’ll deny it all.”

  Vail’s chin shot backward. “The media? Who cares about the media?”

  “Why else would you dig into my past? To force me into helping you get back on the task force? To discredit me in my campaign—”

  “This has nothing to do with your campaign, and it’s got nothing to do with the task force.” She paused, hoping Linwood would catch on. But she didn’t. Finally, Vail forged ahead. “Senator, I’m that newborn you left at Emma’s house thirty-eight years ago.”

  A tear meandered down Linwood’s cheek, then dropped to her lap.

  “I’m your daughter.”

  Linwood rose again, turned her back to Vail, appeared to swipe at her tears. Still trying to appear composed and in control. Trying to digest this information with as much dignity as she could garner and still absorb the shock of the revelation. “What do you want from me?” she finally asked.

  What do I want from her? Vail thought for a second. She had been so focused on putting together the pieces of the puzzle that she hadn’t allowed her mind enough time to analyze her feelings. She had a task, one that piqued her curiosity, one that helped ease the gnawing concern over Jonathan’s condition. But now she needed an answer. The first thought left her lips before she could consider it. “I want to know who my biological parents are. Or were.” She rubbed her eyes. “I just found out I wasn’t Emma’s child. I went to visit her yesterday. She’s got Alzheimer’s and thought I was you.”


  Linwood was silent.

  “You might want to go see her. Make amends—”

  “Thank you, Agent Vail, for your concern.”

  “At least call me Karen.”

  Linwood bowed her head, rested a hand against the wall, steadying herself. Symbolic support for what she was about to say. But as the seconds passed, Linwood did not talk. Did not move.

  “Tell me about my father.”

  Linwood’s head lifted and she stared at the ceiling. “I think it’s best you leave now.”

  Vail should have anticipated such a response. If Linwood had, in fact, worked to bury her past—and Vail now had confirmation of that—then that would be the last topic Linwood would want to discuss.

  “You abandoned your child. How could you do that?”

  “There’s more to it than you know, or should ever know.” The senator was quiet a long moment, then her shoulders rolled forward. As if realizing she needed to explain further, she said, “It was the best thing for both of us at the time. I had my own survival to worry about. Believe me, it was a good thing Emma was there.”

  Though Vail had seen druggie teenagers with babies—women who didn’t know what responsibility was, or what it meant to be a mother—she had a hard time seeing the regal Eleanor Linwood in the same light. But Vail had not come there to understand why her mother had abandoned her. Or perhaps she had. Perhaps it was something she should ask about, if nothing else to understand. But either Linwood was a closed individual, or the thought of having abandoned her daughter was too painful to relive, even harder to discuss. For the moment, Vail would focus on finding her father. It might be easier for a man to talk about the past he had left behind.

  “Senator, I need to know about my father. You have that information. I can find it out by other means, but the attention I’d draw would probably be something you’d want to avoid.”

  “It was another lifetime. One I’d rather forget.”

  “Am I that much of a disappointment to you?”

  Linwood spun to face her. Her eyes were swollen and red. “This has nothing to do with you.” Her gaze was fixed on Vail, as if there was more she wanted to say. But she hesitated, then finally shook her head.

  “I’m sorry to have brought this anguish to the surface. I would’ve thought you’d be glad to see me. But obviously you’re not. Fine, I’ll deal with that. Give me the info I want and I’ll be out of your life.”

  Linwood looked away. “Even if I tell you who your father is, nothing good will come of it.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “In fact, I do.”

  “Maybe he’s not the same person he was forty years ago.”

  “Someone like that doesn’t change.”

  “Senator, your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell him who you are or where you live.”

  “It’s more complicated than that.”

  Vail began to feel the same frustration she’d felt hundreds of times in the past, sitting in an interview room opposite a skel she knew was guilty, but who refused to give it up. There was one case where a kidnapper would not divulge the location of his victim. Vail never could elicit the information, and they never found the woman. She felt that frustration now, swelling in her throat, threatening to choke her.

  Vail took a cleansing breath and slipped into interrogation mode, using techniques she taught at the Academy. “You’re worried he’ll find you, that my poking around will somehow compromise your secret. Or even make him resurface, bring him back into your life. I can understand that. But I won’t let it happen. You have my word.”

  “It would destroy my political career. I’m gearing up for reelection. My opponent would take me to task in the media if he found out about my association with your father. And if it ever got out I’d changed my identity—”

  “No one would be able to piece it together. I’ll make sure of that.”

  Linwood swallowed hard. “Agent Vail . . . Karen. . . .” She sat back down on the edge of the sofa. “It was a long time ago. I was young and stupid and didn’t know any better. As soon as I realized the kind of person he was, I left him. It took me longer than it should’ve, but I was scared.”

  Vail thought of herself, and her marriage to Deacon. She, too, should’ve seen the warning signs months sooner than she had. She looked up and realized the two of them were sitting there in silence, each absorbed in her own thoughts. “At least you were able to get away,” Vail managed. “A lot of women don’t have the fortitude to make the break.” She said it for her own validation as much as Linwood’s.

  The senator was staring ahead, oblivious to Vail’s comments. “There’s nothing to be gained by making contact with him.”

  “With all due respect, that’s not for you to decide.”

  Linwood stood up and straightened her skirt. “I’m glad you came by, Agent Vail. It’s been nice visiting with you.” She turned the knob and held the door open. The universal sign for the end to an acrimonious meeting.

  Vail remained seated. “‘It’s been nice visiting with you’? I’m your daughter, Senator, not one of your campaign donors.” Her voice was louder than she’d intended it to be—but she was tired, and angry, and her dreams of finding her mother had deteriorated into a nightmare. “Like it or not, Mother, I’m a part of you, always will be. Whether or not you want to admit it.”

  “I think it’s time you left.” Linwood’s voice was firm, its volume matching Vail’s.

  “Don’t you have any maternal instincts?” Vail’s hand found the outer pocket of her leather shoulder case. She pulled a photo and held it in front of Linwood’s face. “You’ve got a grandson, too—but that probably doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?”

  Linwood looked past the picture and glared at Vail, her eyes cold and fierce. “Make sure you keep this information confidential. Or I’ll see to it you never work for any law enforcement agency again.” She turned and walked out of the room. Vail started to follow, but Hancock stepped in front of her, his arms spread like an eagle’s wings.

  “I believe the senator asked you to leave.” He raised his eyebrows, expecting a sharp retort. But Vail was empty and numb. And sickened by the thought that Hancock was standing outside the door, listening to their conversation.

  Vail shoved Hancock aside with a stiff forearm, then walked out of the house.

  thirty-eight

  He’d had the hardest time concentrating during class. All he could think about was his next bitch. And her eyes. He had bought a pair of night-vision binoculars at the local camping supply chain store and spent the last evening in surveillance of his new victim. It was a bit of a challenge, but what’s life without challenges?

  First, however, he had to get rid of his last student. She wanted to finish her stinking vase. Jesus, she had to get it just right. He certainly understood the need for perfection, but he had more important things to deal with. He had to work extra hard to keep himself from doing something he’d regret later, because if she hadn’t left when she finally did, he would’ve had to take care of her. But she wasn’t the one, and killing her would’ve aroused suspicion. Others no doubt knew she had been at his class, and no one would’ve seen her leave. It was traceable back to him. So he had to keep his focus, keep thinking about his target.

  Focus, challenges . . . nothing new in any of that. The rest of the evening—that was where things would be different. But he thought the thrill, the kill, and the aftermath would be well worth the uncharted waters. He’d know in a day whether or not he was right. But he suspected he would be. Because this was the one, the ultimate prize. Unlike the others, she knows what she does. And what she did.

  He waited patiently for the right time, then felt the excitement. He was jittery. It was tough to get a full breath.

  “It’s time! It’s time! It’s time!” He wanted to roll down the window and scream, but was able to control himself long enough to get out of the car and focus on his stealth approach to
the house.

  He moved through the forested cover and remained behind a row of hedges across the narrow road. Peered through his binoculars. Everything was quiet until one of the garage doors rolled up. He moved quickly through the brush, remaining low and scampering toward the house. The car backed out, then drove onto the long driveway. Front yard lights snapped on, illuminating the front of the garage with bright halogen spots. He sprinted along a row of bushes, using their cover to keep from tripping the side yard motion sensors. He clutched the cold, moist brick siding of the house and waited for the sectional wood garage door to begin closing.

  As soon as it started lowering, the car drove off, its tires crunching on the rough gravel. He stepped over the sensors mounted along the floor of the garage’s threshold, then knelt down, a large black ball hidden in the corner shadows. The weak light from the small incandescent bulb barely lit the empty garage. The door thumped closed and he was alone. Just him and his stun gun.

  And the bitch.

  thirty-nine

  After leaving Linwood’s house, Vail drove aimlessly, moving along the winding Georgetown Pike before getting back onto 495. Though it wasn’t a conscious decision, she was headed home.

  When she walked into her house, her head was throbbing and her left knee was stiff from driving. She threw her keys on the table and trudged toward the bath. She felt dirty and wanted to strip down and relax in a tub of hot water with bubbles and a glass of cabernet. The perpetual stress over the past several days had reached a pinnacle, and she needed to find the release valve before the pressure cooker burst.

  She started the water and heard a clunk in the bedroom. Her heart dropped. She shut the water and listened, but there was only silence. She moved toward her armoire, lifted her holster, and removed the Glock, then noticed her BlackBerry on the floor, its red light blinking. She picked it up and clicked through to the message: Bledsoe. The Dead Eyes code.