“Hard. She’d convinced herself he was going to leave his wife for her.” Carla’s tone made it clear she’d seen through that line even if her friend hadn’t.
Lou was uncomfortable asking the next question. He cleared his throat. “Did Ruby, uh . . . did she say anything about unusual sexual practices?”
Carla’s eyes narrowed. “What, precisely, are you asking?”
He hadn’t asked it well, Lou realized. “Did you get the impression this Jack had odd tastes or was into anything kinky?”
“Kinky?”
“Bondage, clothing fetishes, that sort of thing.”
“Ruby didn’t talk much about him at all. Like I said, I didn’t approve and she knew it. And when she did mention him, it was more about love and how nice he treated her. . . .” Carla paused. “Now that I think of it, though, she did show me a dress he bought her. Narrow and slinky. He made her model it for him.” Carla lowered her eyes. “Without underwear.”
To Lou’s way of thinking that was hardly kinky, but it was interesting that Jackson wanted to see her dressed in a certain way. Much like their killer.
<><><>
Kali was meeting Bryce at the restaurant at six-thirty. At a quarter to six, she went into the office restroom to touch up her makeup. Blusher, mascara and lipstick. She brushed her teeth and unclipped the hair that was pinned back from her face. She’d worn a knee-length black skirt with the burgundy cashmere sweater that always brought compliments.
There was something laughable about having a first date with a man she’d already slept with, but in some ways that made it even harder. She liked Bryce Keating. Liked him better the more she got to know him. And she wanted him to like her.
Back at her desk, Kali checked her watch. Still time to kill. She called Margot, whom she’d driven home from the hospital earlier in the day.
“You doing okay?” Kali asked.
“Just fine. I’m glad to be home again. Though I have to admit I’m looking over my shoulder more than before.”
“I hate the idea of your being alone on your first night back.” Kali felt she should least offer to cancel her date with Bryce to stay with Margot, but she didn’t.
“I’ve got friends besides you, Kali. If I didn’t want to be alone, I’d call one of them. So have a good time tonight and don’t worry about me.”
The e-mail icon popped up on her computer as Kali was saying good-bye. She clicked on it. Two new messages. One was a many-times forwarded collection of lawyer foot-in-the-mouth remarks sent to her by Nina.
The other consisted of a single word—SLUT.
The return address was a string of numbers from one of the free services. The kind of account anyone could set up. She had no way of knowing who had sent it.
She felt ill. What upset her wasn’t just the message; it was the sense of being watched and judged from behind the cloak of anonymity. In fact, the longer she looked at the screen, the more violated she felt. Kali closed out the computer and sat silently in her chair, hugging herself. The pleasure she’d felt in anticipation of the evening was gone.
<><><>
She did, finally, manage to get herself to the restaurant. It had opened about a year ago and enjoyed nothing but favorable reviews. Light continental cuisine in an atmosphere that was upscale without being glitzy. True Berkeley chic.
Although she was late, Bryce was even later. He arrived in a flurry of apologies.
“I’m not usually late, scout’s honor.” He held up three fingers. “Especially when it’s something I’m looking forward to as much as I am to having dinner with you. I’m glad you waited for me.”
It hadn’t crossed her mind not to.
Bryce gave the hostess his name and she ushered them to a table near the window. He hung his black leather jacket over the back of the chair and leaned forward with his arms on the table.
“I got a last-minute call.” Bryce was still explaining his late arrival. “A worker at the car wash on Broadway found Jane Parkhurst’s eyeglasses in the trash.”
“How did you know they are hers?”
“Her name was on the case. The guy called because he recognized the name from the papers. But here’s the really interesting part. They were folded inside a week-old Chronicle along with some candy wrappers like one we found in front of Ruby Wings’s house.”
“You think it was the killer who dumped them there?”
“Almost has to be. The trash gets emptied twice a week, which means our guy has been at the car wash in the last three days. We’re hoping to get prints, but that’s a long shot.”
It was an eerie image, the killer at the car wash. So close, yet so far. He was walking around, getting his car washed, buying groceries, just like everyone else. “Does the car wash keep a record of who’s been through?”
“Only people who pay by credit card.”
The waiter came to take their drink order. Kali ordered a glass of merlot and Bryce followed suit. “And why don’t you bring us a plate of the bruschetta,” he said.
“I wonder why he waited so long to get rid of them,” Kali said when they were again alone.
“My guess is that they fell out of her purse or pocket into his car, and he didn’t discover them until recently.” Bryce took a sip of water. “I’ll say one thing for him, he’s got good taste in candy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dove dark chocolates. That’s the type of candy wrapper.”
Kali felt a prickle at the back of her neck. “Dove dark? The little candies in red foil?”
“Yeah. You like them too?”
She swallowed, but her mouth was suddenly dry. “I found a couple of them in a paper sack on my deck last week. I assumed it was garbage from a neighbor blown in by the wind. And then I found another one a few days later, loose.”
Kali could tell from the look in Bryce’s eyes that he was thinking the same thing she was. “It’s probably just coincidence,” she said, though she didn’t believe it for a minute.
Bryce shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
She was grateful that he took her fears seriously, and at the same time alarmed that he didn’t try to reassure her. “You said the killer might be targeting women connected with the Strangler case.”
Bryce touched her arm, a simple gesture that was surprisingly comforting. Like a promise to protect her. “You’ve got something that none of the victims had,” he said. “Forewarning. Nonetheless, I think you ought to take precautions.”
She nodded mutely. How did one take precautions against a deranged killer?
“Is there someone you could stay with for a while?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.” Of the names that came immediately to mind, none was easily workable. And it was hardly fair to put a friend in danger.
The waiter brought their wine and appetizer. “Are you ready to order?”
“Give us another couple of minutes,” Bryce said. Then he turned back to Kali. She could see the tension around his eyes. “Do you know how to use a gun?”
“Not well enough to trust my life to it.”
Bryce was silent. Finally he said, “I’ll take you to the shooting range, but it usually takes more than one afternoon to get comfortable enough to do any good.”
“I’m not sure I’d ever get there.” Kali had grown up with guns, and at one time she’d been pretty good at hitting beer cans. But shooting at a person was something different. She wasn’t convinced she’d have the nerve, no matter what the situation.
“We don’t know for certain that the killer is going after women associated with the Strangler case,” Bryce said. “It’s just a theory. And nothing’s come up that connects Jane’ Parkhurst to that case.”
Maybe that was because they hadn’t looked in the right place. Kali sipped her wine. Her hand shook. The day had not been kind to her nerves. “Can you find out about somebody for me?”
“Related to the investigation?”
She considered
lying, but knew she’d regret it. “I don’t think so. His name is Nathan Sloane.”
“An old boyfriend?”
“No, although I went out with him once. He keeps popping up in places where I don’t expect to see him. And he’s . . . well, odd somehow.” She didn’t mention the e-mail but she suspected it was the sort of thing Nathan might do.
Bryce studied her a moment. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Thanks.”
The waiter reappeared and took their order. Caesar salad and grilled salmon for both of them. And Kali ordered a second glass of wine. She’d have to slow down, but for now it helped stave off the panic that was just under her skin.
“Let’s talk about something besides the murders,” she said.
Bryce caught her gaze and held it. He smiled. “Like what?”
“Anything.” She liked his smile. The way it lit his eyes. “Tell me why you’re a cop.”
“I couldn’t stand the idea of being stuck behind a desk all day.”
“You could have been a mailman.”
“The uniform sucks.”
“Seriously, why are you?”
He ran a thumb down the stem of his glass. “It was either that or wind up in prison myself. I had a few brushes with the law as a kid. But I was lucky. The officer on juvenile detail became my mentor instead of my enemy.”
“So you followed in his footsteps.”
“Yeah. I’d like to say it was all about doing good and giving back, but in truth, I think a lot of the attraction for me was in the power and respect. . . .” He laughed. “Or what I thought at the time was power and respect. The reality is a bit different. But I also discovered I liked the idea of holding people accountable. Truth, justice and all that other rot. How about you, why did you go to law school?”
“Something about those same quaint notions of truth and justice.”
Over dinner she learned that Bryce’s idea of fun included mountain biking, backpacking, and white-water kayaking. That he was a decent tennis player and a lousy golfer. His taste in movies ran, not surprisingly, to heavy action films, but he appreciated good drama as well. And books. He was something of a history buff, couldn’t carry a tune worth a darn, and had never traveled outside the U.S. except for short excursions to Mexico when he was younger. The conversation rarely strayed to more deeply personal matters, and when it did, he managed to deflect the focus back to her. But it was comfortable conversation. Bryce was knowledgeable and articulate, and laughed easily. He was just the tonic she needed for the evening.
When they’d finished dessert, he ran a finger along the inside of her arm. “Do you like to dance?”
“Love it, do you?” She would never have predicted that Bryce was the dancing type.
He took her to a club in Emeryville that featured a local band. The lead guitarist greeted Bryce by name.
“Are you a musician as well?” Kali asked.
“Far from it.”
But he was a good dancer. And when the music turned slow, he held her close, one hand at the small of her back, the other bent under her chin. He kissed her cheek, her eye, her ear. His breath was warm and sweet.
“You want to come to my place for the night?” she whispered.
“Yes. But I’m not going to.”
“Why not?”
“I told you before, I want to do this right.”
“Right?” Kali stopped moving to the music.
“I don’t want to rush it.”
She laughed. “We already did.”
“I know. But I have a reputation to live down. I want this to be different.”
She wasn’t going to beg him, for God’s sake. She tried not to let her disappointment show. “I guess I should be flattered.”
He kissed her forehead. “It’s not rejection, Kali. Quite the opposite.”
Bryce did follow her home, however. He checked the house for prowlers and made sure she locked the door when he left.
By the time she crawled into bed, part of her was glad that he hadn’t agreed to stay. The other part ached for him.
<><><>
Saturday morning Kali was up early. She drove into Berkeley, where she picked up an assortment of pastries at The Bread Garden and two lattes at Peet’s, then delivered them to Margot, pulling up the long, steep driveway to park near the house, as Margot had on the night she was attacked. Even in broad daylight, Kali was cautious.
“You read my mind,” Margot said, eyeing the bakery bag eagerly.
“In this case, not hard to do.”
Margot led the way to the kitchen. She was wearing teal silk lounging pajamas that seemed more elegant than practical, but the glamour effect was offset by the bruises and scrapes on her face.
“How are you feeling?” Kali asked.
“As long as I don’t move, I’m okay.”
“How about emotionally?”
“Can’t we stick with the easy questions?” Margot reached for a croissant.
Kali waited for an answer. Friends didn’t let friends fall through the cracks.
“Okay, so I’m not a hundred percent. Being attacked is a humbling experience, let me tell you that. It’s something I relive several times every hour. If I were a real woman, without the extra strength . . . don’t like to think what might have happened.”
“And you didn’t get a look at him at all?”
“It was dark.”
“But you must have an impression.”
Margot shivered. “He was taller than me. Soft hands. That’s all I can remember. I’d really prefer to talk about something else.”
“One more question. Have you found any Dove candy wrappers around your yard?”
“Not that I recall. But between the dogs and the kids next door who keep tossing balls in my yard, I’m so used to finding stuff that doesn’t belong, I don’t pay much attention. Why, is it related in some way to my attack?”
Kali shook her head. “I don’t know. Probably not.”
Half an hour later Kali got back into her car and drove across the street to her own home. She entered the house through the garage, making sure the garage door was shut before unlocking her car. It wasn’t until the afternoon, when she went out the front door to check the mail, that she noticed the box on her porch. A white box, the sort a department store might used for gift items.
She took it into the kitchen and lifted the lid. Inside was a glossy eight-by-ten photo of herself standing on her back deck. And a single yellow rose. The attached card read, “In anticipation.”
CHAPTER 40
What Kali noticed first wasn’t her pounding heart or the legs so weak she could barely stand. What struck her right away was the taste in her mouth. A tinny, sour taste she recognized as fear.
She peered at the photograph, trying to figure out when it might have been taken, and came up blank. Not surprising, considering the screaming in her head, so loud and shrill that it made thought impossible.
She remained rooted to the sunny spot at the far end of the kitchen where she’d opened the box. Frozen in time. Unable to think, unable to move. As if by holding the moment she could prevent what came next.
Loretta’s whining by the side door finally propelled her to move. Kali peeked through the window and, seeing nothing to cause alarm, let the dog out. She set the deadbolt, then went to the phone and called Bryce.
When she couldn’t reach him, she left a message, then tried his cell phone and got a “customer not available” announcement. Panic rose in her throat. She called the detective bureau. Come on, Bryce, be there. But he wasn’t, and neither was Lou. She left another message, let Loretta back into the house, then pulled out a chair and sat. She shifted and twisted, unable to get comfortable, and soon found herself pacing instead. Check your messages, she urged Bryce silently, then aloud. “Check them, damn it.”
The phone remained silent.
Finally, Kali collapsed onto the sofa and hugged her knees to her chest. Now that the initial shock had worn
off, she felt oddly disconnected. It was like being on an airplane miles above the earth. Nothing existed but the moment.
Then, in a sudden sweep of memory, she was flooded with images from the crime scenes. As if stung, she leapt from the sofa. She was not going to be a victim.
Kali pulled the phone book from the drawer in the kitchen. Corner flower stands were abundant around town, but most did not carry long-stemmed roses. Those generally came from true florist shops. Still, there were a lot of florists, Kali realized, as she ran a finger down the listings, and most, if not all, had been contacted by the police previously in the course of the investigation.
But she had to do something.
Using her cell phone in order to keep the ground line free, she began working her way down the list alphabetically. By the time she got to the Gs she was ready to give up. It was an exercise in futility. Then the woman who answered at Giabaldi’s Flowers and Gifts surprised her. Yes, she had sold a single long-stemmed yellow rose the previous day. To a man.
Kali’s heart was beating so fast and furiously she found it difficult to speak. “I don’t suppose he paid for it with a credit card, did he?”
“It was just that one rose. Why?”
The words that tumbled from Kali’s mouth weren’t those she’d planned. Rather than get into an explanation that involved the DA’s office, which was just as likely to elicit wariness as cooperation, she found herself playing the role of hapless female.
“He left it at my house but the card apparently blew away. I think I know who it’s from, but before I make a fool of myself, I want to make sure.”
The woman chuckled. “I can see that might be a problem.”
“Can you describe him for me?” Kali asked.
“You’re in luck, dear. I can do better than that. When the young man paid for his purchase, a business card fell from his billfold. I noticed his name because it’s the same as my maiden name. We talked about being related but couldn’t find a common ancestor anywhere.”
Kali’s heart skipped a beat. “What was the name?”
“Keating.”
Cold Justice (Kali O'Brien series Book 5) Page 35