by Mary Burton
Warwick frowned. ‘How long was she at your house?’
Zack didn’t flinch. ‘About a half hour.’
A half hour? Is that all it had been?
‘What did you two talk about?’ Warwick said.
‘Personal things,’ Lindsay interjected.
‘Nothing related to the murders,’ Zack said.
Warwick didn’t look pleased. ‘All right.’
‘Lindsay privately offered to go through her case files with Ricker and see if any suspects come to mind.’
Warwick nodded. ‘All right.’
‘Hey, Lindsay, what was that in the newspaper? It looked like a severed hand.’ The voice belonged to Kendall Shaw. She stood at the edge of the yellow tape with her cameraman. ‘Your friend sending you tokens of his affection?’ Lindsay ignored the question and turned from the camera. Zack and Warwick refused to comment.
Kendall was patient as she watched the maintenance man move away from the cops. The guy looked pale and upset. He’d seen something. She turned to Mike. ‘Stay put. I want to talk to the maintenance man.’
‘Whatever.’
Kendall cut through the growing crowd of curiosity seekers and made her way up to the guy. She thought about tossing him one of her smiles but decided she needed to be more subtle with this guy. She’d play it concerned. ‘Hey, are you all right?’
‘Not by a long shot.’ With a shaky hand, the guy reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a pack of Camels. He pulled one out and lit the tip. Smoke billowed around his lean face as he puffed.
‘What’s got you so spooked?’
His eyes narrowed as he stared at her through the haze. ‘You’re a reporter.’
She smiled. ‘Yeah.’
‘You’re with Channel 10?’
‘I am.’ She moved closer to him and gently laid her hand on his shoulder. ‘Can I get you anything?’
‘A six-pack of beer?’
She lifted a brow. ‘It can be arranged.’
He shook his head as he took anther drag. ‘God knows I deserve a drink. But the property management firm will fire my ass if I drink on the job.’
She held out her hand. ‘I’m Kendall Shaw.’
He took her hand and held it gently. ‘I know. And I’m Steve Hess.’
‘Nice to meet you, Steve.’
He moistened his lips. ‘I watch you on TV a lot. You’re good.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Every time I see you, I wonder why you’re not in a bigger city.’
She grinned. ‘From your lips to God’s ears.’
He chuckled, and with a hand that still shook a little, he took another drag off his cigarette.
‘You see my piece last night?’
‘Naw. I ended up working overtime in a flooded unit. Fucking pipes burst.’
If he was a Lindsay devotee it was better he hadn’t seen the piece. It had stirred quite a buzz. And she’d gotten just as many negative e-mails as positive. ‘I hear you’re the one who called the police for Lindsay.’
‘I was in my truck across the street when I heard her scream. She was so freaked out.’
Kendall decided to play a hunch. ‘It was bad for you too, wasn’t it?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I still think you could use a drink. After what you saw, I can’t imagine any boss would deny you a stiff one. They don’t pay you enough to see what you saw.’
A sigh shuddered through him. ‘Jesus, it was a mess.’
He was a volcano ready to erupt. He just needed a nudge and someone to listen.
‘I saw the body at the park.’
Steve looked at her, his eyes alight as if he’d found someone who understood. ‘Was he missing a hand?’
That caught her up short. ‘Yes,’ she lied.
‘Jesus, whoever this nutcase is, he’s sending the hands of his victims to Lindsay. She said he sent her a hand on Monday as well.’
Kendall hid her smile. ‘Does she know who’s doing this?’
‘She doesn’t have a clue. But it’s starting to mess with her.’
She leaned forward, and in a low tone said, ‘I can’t imagine what she’s going through.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
San Francisco, Wednesday, July 9, 10:00 A.M. PST
Detectives Dominic Rio and Monica Perry arrived at the burned-out New Age bookstore, which was still hissing with charred timbers. Lights on three fire trucks flashed as firemen sprayed a stream of water on the coals. A collection of people stood behind the barriers looking stunned and frightened.
Rio put the car in park and set the emergency brake. Perry grabbed her notebook. Perry was in her early thirties, divorced, and originally from Minnesota. She was brutally efficient, detail oriented, and cool to most. Rio was a bachelor, a Texan by birth, dark skinned, and had hair so black it looked blue in sharp sunlight. At first glance, he seemed outgoing and laid-back but he was just as detached as Perry.
The two had worked together for two years. They’d fallen into an easy relationship, each able to anticipate the other’s thoughts. Other cops in the division jokingly called them an old married couple, though romance had never sparked between the two.
A lazy mist had settled over the city, sending temps into the sixties. Rio got out of the car and pulled off his sunglasses. He paused at the front of the car and waited for Perry. She wasn’t fond of the chivalry but had long ago accepted that it came with his Southern roots.
They walked side by side up to Fire Battalion Chief Stanley. Stanley had thick silver hair and mustache and a booming voice that could be heard over any siren.
Rio stuck out his hand. ‘Stanley.’
Stanley shook both their hands. ‘Thanks for coming.’
‘You have a body?’ Perry asked.
Soot deepened the lines on Stanley’s face, making his grim face sterner than usual. ‘Yeah. She wasn’t killed by the fire. She was murdered.’
Rio hooked his thumb in his belt loop. ‘You know this how?’
‘The fire was pretty hot and would’ve completely obliterated the body if a metal shelf hadn’t fallen on it. It acted as a shield against the flames.’ He released a breath. ‘Her body was in the back, out of sight of the street.’
Perry scratched down a few notes. ‘Is it safe for us to take a look?’
‘Yeah, but I’ve got helmets for you both, just to play it safe.’ Stanley handed each a helmet and glanced at Perry’s steel-tipped boots and Rio’s loafers. ‘Rio, your shoes are pretty but not practical. Take a page from your partner’s book and wear a more substantial shoe.’
Rio raised an eyebrow as he stared at her practical, but ugly boots. ‘Naw.’
Perry smiled crookedly at her partner. ‘Rio’s got a thing about his image. Likes to look good.’
Rio shrugged. ‘And you’re a Girl Scout.’
They made their way into the charred building. The smell of smoke blended with the scent of Perry’s perfume. Carefully, the trio picked their way through the rubble of incinerated books and collapsed shelves and beams toward the back of the shop.
Perry’s stomach tumbled when she saw the body. The dead woman lay on her back, her hands stretched out in a T-shape. The heat of the flames had all but incinerated or melted the bottom half of her body. But her torso and head had remained untouched by the flames. ‘Jesus.’
The victim’s face had been systematically cut with diamond-shaped patterns. By the looks of it, the killer had used a scalpel.
Stanley’s jaw tightened. ‘Like I said, that metal shelf shielded her face from the worst of the blaze; otherwise, there wouldn’t be anything left of her.’
Perry leaned forward and studied the position of the shoulders. ‘This some kind of ritual killing?’
Rio squatted down, his long tanned hands draped over his knees. ‘The guy who did this enjoyed himself.’
Perry checked the name of the store owner in her notes. ‘If this is the store owner, then her name is Claire Carmichael. She’s clean, just a
speeding ticket in ninety-nine.’
Rio rubbed his chin. ‘Let’s have a look at the crowd. Maybe someone saw something. Stanley, the forensics van should be here any minute.’
Stanley spoke matter-of-factly. ‘What the fire didn’t destroy, we did when we put it out.’
Rio scowled. ‘Something our killer was banking on.’
*
Richmond, Virginia, 11:00 A.M. EST
Nicole couldn’t take it any longer. She had stayed inside, out of sight of the police, because Lindsay had asked her to. Lindsay was trying to protect her. But Nicole had had enough of running scared. And hiding.
Richard be damned.
She’d not cower anymore. Especially now that Lindsay needed her.
Nerves jumping, she opened the back patio door, cut through the backyard garden, and pushed open the privacy fence door. She moved around the side of the town house to the edge of the yellow tape. Reporters started to swarm toward Lindsay.
Two men already stood beside Lindsay. The first had his hand raised to block a cameraman’s lens. He was dark. Brooding. Zack, she guessed. Lindsay had only spoken about him a little.
The second man was just as tall as Zack but he had hard eyes, a nose that looked as if it had been broken once. This man caught sight of Nicole almost immediately. His gaze bore into her with an intensity that made her want to run.
Nicole held her ground as he excused himself and moved toward her. He moved like an athlete, sleek and graceful, yet powerful. He stopped just feet from her. ‘Where did you come from?’
The suspicion in his raspy voice had her straightening. ‘I’m Nicole. I’m Lindsay’s roommate.’
Warwick frowned. ‘She never said anything about a roommate.’
‘She’s trying to protect me.’
‘From whom?’
‘My husband.’
Warwick signaled for Zack and Lindsay to come over. When Lindsay saw Nicole, she immediately glanced behind her to make sure the camera crews weren’t filming. ‘Zack, can we have this conversation inside?’
Zack nodded toward the door. ‘Sure.’
The four stepped into Lindsay’s town house.
Lindsay closed the door. ‘Nicole, you should have stayed inside.’
Nicole shook her head, aware of Warwick’s gaze. ‘No more hiding, Lindsay.’
‘I could have handled this.’
‘Thanks, but I don’t want you to protect me anymore.’
Zack pulled a piece of gum from his coat pocket and popped it into his mouth. ‘Mind introducing us, Lindsay?’
Lindsay glared at him and then at Nicole. ‘I wanted to tell you.’
Zack folded his arms over his chest. ‘I’m all ears now.’
‘This is Nicole Piper,’ Lindsay said.
Nicole felt awkward but held her ground. ‘I’ve been living with Lindsay. She’s been helping me hide from my husband. He could be quite violent.’
‘Who is your husband?’ Zack said.
She hated thinking about him, let alone saying his name. ‘Richard Braxton. He’s a businessman based in San Francisco.’
‘Did you ever file charges against him?’ Warwick asked.
A sad smile lifted the corner of her mouth. ‘No. I was too afraid of him. Two and a half months ago, while he was on a business trip, I fled with the clothes on my back and two hundred dollars cash. If not for Lindsay, I don’t know what I would’ve done.’
‘How do you know Lindsay?’ Doubt clouded Zack’s eyes.
Lindsay cleared her throat. ‘We went to college together at USC.’
‘Were you here on the night Harold Turner died?’ Zack asked.
‘Yes,’ Nicole said.
‘Can you verify Lindsay was here?’ Warwick said.
Nicole glanced at Lindsay. ‘I wish that I could. But we both slept very hard that night, as if we were drugged.’
‘Why do you say drugged?’ Warwick said.
‘Every night since I left my husband, I’ve had nightmares. I didn’t dream at all that night.’
‘Would you be willing to submit to a drug test?’ Zack asked.
‘Certainly.’
‘Do you think there’d be any traces left in our systems?’ Lindsay said. ‘It’s been forty-eight hours.’
Nicole shrugged. ‘We can try.’
Warwick looked around the apartment. ‘Have you noticed anyone strange around here lately?’
‘No. But I started working at a photography studio last week, so I’ve stayed busy.’
‘A job? A job would expose you to your husband,’ Warwick said. ‘Your Social Security number can be traced.’
Lindsay cleared her throat. ‘She’s changed her name. Her real name is Christina Braxton. And I encouraged the name change and a new hair color and cut. I also got her a new Social Security number.’
‘How?’ Zack challenged.
Lindsay wasn’t apologetic. ‘I have contacts.’
Zack muttered an oath. ‘There are legal channels she could’ve gone through. Social Security can change numbers in domestic-abuse cases.’
‘I was afraid Richard would find out,’ Nicole said.
Zack kept his gaze on Lindsay. ‘Have you gotten new IDs for others before?’
‘Sometimes the only solution is to vanish and then create a new identity.’
Zack stared at her long and hard. ‘That’s what you did after your mother died.’
Lindsay swallowed. ‘Yes. Look, if you need to file charges against me for buying the ID of a dead person, go ahead. But Nicole had nothing to do with it.’
Nicole shook her head. ‘I knew what I was doing, Lindsay. I take full responsibility.’ Nicole felt sick. ‘What do we do now?’
‘First things first,’ Warwick said. ‘Let’s get those blood tests.’
‘And after that, where does Nicole go?’ Lindsay said. ‘She can’t stay here. It’s only a matter of time before the press will spot her and word will get back to her husband.’
‘I know a place,’ Zack said.
‘Where?’ Lindsay said.
‘My folks’ house.’
Lindsay could see that Sam was upset as he drew her blood. Outside the curtained examination room Zack stood like a modern-day centurion. ‘I’ve never seen you frown so much.’
Sam took the vial of blood and laid it on the metal tray by the exam table. ‘Lindsay, the cops want me to do a full toxicology screen. What happened?’
The concern in his eyes touched her heart. ‘They think that whoever killed Harold on early Monday morning might also have drugged Nicole and me. My sleeping in put me about three hours behind; otherwise I’d have been at the shelter at the same time the murderer was.’
His jaw tightened. ‘I don’t like this. I’m worried about you.’
‘Hey, I’m okay. I’m always okay.’
He shook his head. ‘Don’t kid yourself. I saw the news reports. All this has to have churned up stuff from your past.’
‘I’ll muscle through it, just like always.’ That was a lie. She honestly didn’t know how she was going to see her way clear of this mess. ‘Look, I’ve got to go. I need to get Nicole settled.’
‘Right.’
‘Make sure you also run a pregnancy test on her.’ In two weeks Lindsay could very well be doing the same for herself.
‘Sure.’
Lindsay kissed him on the lips. Unexpectedly, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. The move was possessive, as if he was staking a claim. She let him hold her until she ended the kiss.
‘See you soon.’ She pushed back the curtain.
Zack shot Sam a hard glance and then escorted her to the elevators, where Warwick and Nicole waited. Next to the cop, her friend looked so pale and fragile. And if not for Nicole, she’d never had agreed to go to the Kiers’ house.
As Zack began the drive to Hanover, Lindsay stared out the backseat window, knowing she was about to face her in-laws after nearly a year of silence. She felt as if she were venturing
into a lion’s den.
Zack slowed the car and pulled into a gravel driveway. The Kiers’ farm was located off a rural road in Hanover County about thirty minutes north of the city. Dust kicked up around the car and gravel popped under the tires as Zack continued down the driveway. At the end stood an old white farmhouse that her in-laws had purchased about ten years ago and were still renovating. Audrey had often joked that she’d be in her nineties before her husband would be finished working on all his projects.
Zack parked the car in front of the wide front porch and got out. He opened the door for Lindsay. Under better circumstances, she’d have kidded him about such chivalry. Today she wasn’t interested in any sort of humor.
Warwick opened Nicole’s door. She looked so small and delicate next to the detective, who stood a good ten inches taller. Nicole held her shoulders back. If she was afraid, she was doing her best to hide it.
The screened door opened and out stepped Mr and Mrs Kier. They were smiling, but Lindsay saw the strain in their eyes.
Audrey Kier was a tall woman with silver hair, which she’d swept into a ponytail. Mr Kier’s dark hair had turned salt and pepper and the sun had left deep wrinkles around his blue eyes.
Audrey came straight up to Lindsay and gave her a hug. ‘It’s so good to see you, dear.’
Lindsay tried to relax but the unexpected contact felt awkward. ‘Thank you for having us, Audrey. I really do appreciate it.’
The older woman stepped away and let her gaze drift over Lindsay. ‘Ellie said you were too thin.’
Lindsay pretended she didn’t hear the comment or the genuine concern in Audrey’s voice. The less attached she remained, the better.
Audrey’s vivid gray eyes, so like her son’s, shifted to Nicole. Her assessing gaze took in a dozen different details in a split second. ‘Welcome.’
Nicole seemed stiff and nervous. ‘Thank you for having us, Mrs Kier.’
Audrey smiled. ‘Please call me Audrey. Mrs Kier always sounded so formal to me.’
Mr Kier cleared his throat. He was as tall as Zack and his shoulders as broad. His body remained fit. Only the deep wrinkles around his eyes and the calloused palms from working his hands gave his age away. ‘She’s been Mrs Kier for almost forty years and she’s never gotten used to it.’