by T. R. Ragan
“I’m not sure, I guess so,” Jessica said. “I don’t know if I can handle this—”
“Handle what?”
“Working for Lizzy. It’s dangerous and I don’t think I’m cut out for this type of work.”
“You can’t quit, Jessica. Not right now, not yet. Lizzy needs you. Tell me about the woman who hired Lizzy to watch Dominic Povo. Have you talked to her about everything that’s going on?”
“She’s in Europe for a few weeks.”
“Then let’s hold off on the Povo case until she returns. Until then, don’t go near the construction site and, whatever you do, don’t call the other number Magnus gave you. He could be dangerous.”
Carmichael
Saturday, June 2, 2012
The Dalton house was a two-story set in Carmichael off Clover Street. Michael’s mother, Mrs. Dalton, was in her seventies. Her eyes were kind, but the pain there was unmistakable. After introducing her husband, Harold, she busied herself in the kitchen. Harold Dalton was short and stocky. His hair was more white than gray. His khaki pants were pulled high on his waist and his brown belt was cinched tight. Harold followed close at Jared’s heels as Jared made his way upstairs, giving Lizzy the perfect opportunity to cut to the right.
She opened the first door she came to and found herself inside the garage—an oversized room with plenty of workspace.
One corner of the garage was reserved for tools: a gray steel toolbox filled to the brim with nails, screwdrivers, and wrenches. A half wall above the workbench was covered with hammers and saws, all neatly hung. Most of the back wall was made up of open-wire shelving. She headed that way and began to search through the mishmash of items: endless piles of books, picture frames, paint supplies, holiday decorations. There were golf clubs to her left and bikes hanging from the ceiling to her right.
Lizzy looked at the only car parked inside the garage. It was the same one she’d seen parked in front of Jennifer’s office downtown. She opened the door, climbed in behind the wheel, and simply sat there for a moment. Then she opened the center console: gum, tissues, loose coins. She checked the glove compartment next. Neatly folded papers, owner’s manual, proof of insurance. Nothing unusual. Nothing out of place.
She climbed out of the car, shut the door, then moved to the rear and popped the trunk.
Empty and clean.
With a sigh, she moved to the door leading into the house and gave the garage one last look, her gaze slowly scanning the entire room. There was an attic marked by a wooden door with a pull-down chain. She would find out if they could move the car so she could climb up for a quick look. Next, her gaze fell on the shoe rack by the door. Two rows of neatly placed shoes beneath a row of winter coats. There were hiking boots for him and her. Two pairs of women’s running shoes. One pair looked brand new. She leaned forward to get a closer look at the pink mesh and flex grooves along the length of the midsole. Something was stuffed inside.
She picked up the shoe. Those were not socks inside. Kneeling down, she turned the shoe over and gasped as dead pine sawyer beetles fell to the ground.
Rancho Cordova
Saturday, June 2, 2012
The Centerfold parking lot in Rancho Cordova was filled with eighteen-year-old boys loitering around. Nobody paid any attention to Jessica and Hayley as they made their way inside.
The cover charge was steep at twenty dollars each. No alcohol allowed, but there was unlimited lemonade and raspberry punch. In one of the booths, a guy was getting a private lap dance that really wasn’t very private. Jessica cringed.
There were two stages. The place was dank and dark and not overly crowded. She walked stiffly behind Hayley, who seemed perfectly at ease as they took a seat near the front of the first stage.
After the waitress took their order, Jessica did her best to keep her gaze straight ahead and away from the lap dance going on nearby. It wasn’t easy to ignore. “Why do guys come to these places?”
Hayley shrugged. “To hang with their buddies. To socialize. They can’t touch the girls, so the lap dances are a big tease.”
The waitress set two lemonades on the table and said she’d be back with the food in a minute.
“I’d rather live on the streets than work in a place like this.”
“These women are trying to earn a living like everyone else in the world,” Hayley said. “And they understand what men like and need. What’s the big deal?”
“I guess you’re right.” Jessica drank the lemonade they served, but ignored the food when it was brought to the table. She’d lost her appetite the moment she’d walked inside the place. Two different girls were dancing on stage, making Jessica blush. She wanted to find Adele Hampton and get out of here. The walls were covered with eleven-by-fourteen pictures of the strippers who danced at the club. The music was loud techno remixes of popular songs of the day.
“That’s her,” Hayley said.
Jessica looked up and saw a new girl on the stage in front of them. Hayley waved a twenty-dollar bill at the girl, making Jessica even more uncomfortable.
The girl climbed down the stairs and approached Hayley.
“Is your name Adele?” Hayley asked.
“Who wants to know?”
“We do. This is Jessica and I’m Hayley.”
Adele took the twenty and slipped it between her breasts, where it disappeared completely. “I’m Adele. Enjoy the show.”
Hayley pulled out another twenty. “Your mom is looking for you.”
Adele rolled her eyes and started to turn away again without bothering to touch the second bill that Hayley held outward.
“Your biological mom,” Hayley added, “not the one who raised you.”
Adele turned to face Hayley again. “Does she know I work here?”
It was hard for Jessica to tell if the girl was worried or excited.
“No,” Hayley said. “Nobody knows but the two of us.”
“Did she hire you?”
“Yes. We work for a private investigator in Sacramento.”
“Does she live in the area?”
“Your biological mom lives in New York, but she located your adoptive parents. When you used their credit card, you left an easy enough trail to follow.”
“It couldn’t have been that easy, since my parents didn’t find me.”
“They never looked,” Hayley said.
Jessica felt sick at how callous Hayley’s words sounded. The girl’s adoptive parents had never bothered to look for her. Adele tried to hide the hurt beneath a grunt and a smirk, but the pain and the sadness of it all was right there in her eyes, plain as day.
Adele spared Jessica a quick glance before she looked back at Hayley. “Do you know why I left?”
Hayley shook her head.
“I was pregnant. I didn’t know what to do. I was scared, and for the first time in my life, I think I understood why my mother gave me up.”
Hayley didn’t ask Adele to explain, Jessica noticed, she just waited patiently.
“I was told that my biological mother got pregnant at a young age. I never understood why she would give her baby up. I never wanted to understand it—not until it happened to me.” Adele tapped the table with her long, manicured nail. “My adoptive parents had big plans for me, high hopes. Harvard, Stanford, only the best for their little girl. God, I was such a bitter and angry little girl. They gave me everything. I gave them nothing in return. No, that’s not true. I gave them grief, plenty of grief. I don’t blame them for not looking for me. I wouldn’t have looked for me either. So,” Adele added after a short pause, “what’s next?”
“Did you have the child?” Jessica asked.
Adele smiled. “Yes, I did. She’s the sweetest little girl in Placer County.”
“I don’t get it,” Jessica said. “Your adoptive parents went to all the trouble of adopting you and raising you as their own, but they let you walk out of their life because you were pregnant?”
“They knew they had raise
d me better than that. I knew better, I just didn’t do better. I don’t blame them.”
“Do you want to meet your mother?” Hayley asked.
“I’m not sure.”
Hayley grabbed a napkin from the canister and scribbled her name and number on it. “If you decide you want to meet her, give me a call.”
Jessica wondered what Hayley was up to. That wasn’t part of the deal. If a client hired them to find somebody, that was that.
“Keep this, too,” Hayley said, handing her the other twenty.
Adele took the napkin and the money and walked off.
“You can’t keep this from Lizzy,” Jessica told her. “You have to tell her that you found Adele.”
“I can and I will keep it from Lizzy, and so will you, because it’s the right thing to do.”
“It’s unethical.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Who are you? When are you going to wake up and get it?”
“Get what?”
“That the world is not black and white. It’s fucking yellow and purple and gray and blue.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means that the world is a kaleidoscope of colors, people, places, situations. People think they have to follow the stupid-ass recipe because it’s in writing. If you don’t like salt, leave out the salt, for God’s sake!”
Jessica stiffened, praying that nobody else was listening to the crazy girl sitting across from her.
“Right and wrong—that’s what it all comes down to,” Hayley went on. “Plain and simple. Nothing else matters. If it feels wrong, it is wrong. If something you do,” Hayley said, pointing at Jessica, “hurts another person, causes them pain in one form or another, then it’s wrong. If something you do hurts no one but yourself, then you have a choice to make. Your choice. Not mine, not the guy over there jacking off in the corner, not Lizzy’s.”
“But what if it’s your job to find out information and you’re getting paid to do it?”
“Let them fire you. If something is wrong, then it’s wrong. Getting paid to hurt someone is double wrong. If Adele doesn’t want to be found, I’m not going to be the one to tell everyone where she is. Lizzy can hire someone else to find her if she doesn’t like it.”
Jessica sighed. Then she stood and said, “I get it. Can we go now?”
Carmichael
Saturday, June 2, 2012
By three o’clock, the Dalton garage was roped off as an official crime scene.
Lizzy and Jared stood outside the garage, looking in. It was raining again. An hour ago, the sun had looked as if it might make an appearance, but the dark clouds had won out and now the rain was coming down hard.
Lizzy had borrowed an umbrella from the garage. She’d been afraid to open it, afraid a zillion beetles would fall out onto the street, but this was her lucky day, she supposed, since the umbrella turned out to be bug-free.
Although she tried to share the umbrella with Jared, he kept coming and going, talking on his phone one minute, and then instructing the technicians the next. At the moment, he stood at her side as water dripped down his face and off his nose and chin.
“So, what do you think?” Lizzy asked him.
“Definitely a connection between the Lovebird Killer and the Daltons,” he said. “Might be a bigger connection than even you imagined.”
“What do you mean? They’re not pointing their finger at Michael, are they?”
“Lizzy,” Jared said in a tone he usually used on Hayley, “what is it with you and this Michael guy?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re very protective of him and you supposedly met him…what…a total of three times?”
“What do you mean supposedly? I met him three times.”
“I talked to Greer. He said that you met with Stacey Whitmore, the reporter, at her home in Granite Bay.”
“I did. What about it?”
“What did she say about Michael Dalton?”
“Stacey says he’s about as good as any man can be.”
“She’s married to Dan Whitmore, the divorce lawyer who is in the news more often than not.”
“That’s right. I believe he’s also serving as a consultant for the popular nighttime drama Cheaters. I haven’t met Dan, but Stacey did share one of their family albums with me. Stacey Whitmore and Michael Dalton dated in college, but that relationship ended when Michael met Jennifer. The two remained friends, and both couples have been enjoying family vacations together for years.”
“They were having an affair,” Jared blurted.
“What?” Lizzy was completely thrown off guard. “Who?”
“Jennifer Dalton and Dan Whitmore.”
Lizzy couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
Jared didn’t say anything more, he merely stood in the rain and let the information settle in until Lizzy probed further.
“I’m assuming Greer just gave you the news?”
He nodded.
“That bitch.”
“Who?”
“Jennifer Dalton, who else?”
“What about Dan Whitmore?”
“He’s an asshole, but that goes without saying. What about Stacey?” she asked.
“What about her?”
“Did she have any idea?”
“She’s known about the affair for years.”
Lizzy stood there and let it all sink in. “Jesus Christ.”
“I don’t think this information is going to help Michael’s case much.”
“I think not.”
Lizzy gestured toward the garage. “I guess this makes Michael Dalton look like a jealous and angry man and now, with the bugs, also your prime suspect?”
“Possibly.”
“I’ve been working my ass off trying to free a serial killer?”
“It’s too early in the game to go down that road, Lizzy. If not for you, we wouldn’t be standing here now in front of the Daltons’ garage. Give yourself a pat on the back instead. Will you do that?”
She snorted.
“Just this once?”
“Don’t worry,” she finally said. “I’m not going to blame myself for every crazed lunatic out there.” As Lizzy stood there watching the technicians gather evidence, she realized the idea of Michael Dalton being the Lovebird Killer did not compute. She had looked into the eyes of a serial killer for months on end—flat, empty, lifeless eyes. Michael Dalton was not a killer, and nobody, not even the man she loved, could convince her otherwise.
“I’m not perfect,” Jared said, “but I’ll promise you one thing.”
She lifted the umbrella higher so she could get a good look at him as he spoke.
“I’ll never lie to you. And I would never cheat.”
“I know,” she said. And it was true. If there was one thing in this godforsaken world that she could count on, it was Jared Shayne. She never had to question his love for her. Before she could offer him any promises of her own, his cell rang and he put the phone to his ear and walked away.
CHAPTER 22
I took her bra and panties off and had sex with her. That’s one of those things I guess that got to be a part of my life—having sexual intercourse with the dead.
—Henry Lee Lucas
Davis
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
After disconnecting the motion sensor Jared had installed, Hayley opened the window and crawled out. As she shut the window, she felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of leaving the house unsecured. Not wanting to disturb any dogs in the neighborhood, she walked as fast as she could without letting her heels clap too hard against the pavement. She’d asked Tommy to meet her at the corner of Meadow and Leighton. At first she thought he might have chickened out, but then she saw him sitting on the curb near his bike. He wore all black and blended into the night. Until this moment, she’d never seen him wearing anything other than bright colors.
An unfamiliar fluttering of excitement raced up her spine.
“Hi,” s
he said as she approached, feeling twitches of happiness, something she hadn’t felt in a very long time.
“Hi,” he said, pushing himself to his feet.
She let her gaze roam down to his boots. “The whole black thing looks good on you.”
“Thanks.”
He unhooked an extra helmet from his bike and handed it to her. “We should get going before the neighborhood wakes up and comes out here to see what’s going on.”
He climbed on the bike first.
She put on her helmet, fastened the chin strap, and hooked a leg over the seat. She barely had time to latch onto him before he turned on the ignition and took off. She held tighter. Maybe that was his plan. Either way, she didn’t care.
She was enjoying herself.
The air smelled crisp and fresh. She was free.
For thirty minutes, she held her arms snug around his waist as he headed down a maze of dark and narrow streets. When they finally slowed, he turned onto a dirt road. It was long, windy, and steep, and she had to use muscles she didn’t know she had to keep from falling off the back of the bike. Once they reached the top of the hill, he turned off the ignition.
She climbed off and so did Tommy. No words were spoken between them as he opened a bag hooked to the tank, pulled out a blanket, and laid it out on the ground. They both lay flat on their backs and stargazed. The night was cool. The rain had stopped hours ago.
“I’m glad you called me,” he said, gazing upward.
Hayley didn’t know what to say to that. She wanted to thank him, but that sort of thing did not come easily to her, if at all. Every emotion inside her felt raw and new. Anger she could handle. Disappointment, fear, sadness, she knew them well, but surprise and joy—not so much. One thing for sure, it felt good to be free.
They both lay straight and stiff, arms at their sides.
“Are you OK?” he asked.
Frogs croaked in the distance.
“I am,” she said. “I’m OK.”
“Life is strange,” he said next.
“How so?”
“The two of us here right now, stargazing. Didn’t see that coming.”