Veronica wanted to pull herself from the vision and light blurred, but she willed herself to stay and see the rest. The perpetrator might show her his face.
She was looking down now, pawing at the purse and pulling things out with shaky hands. At last she gripped her phone, punching in 9-1-1. Bringing it to her ear, she leaned to look around the edge of the dumpster again. The dark shoulders of the man bunched as he strained, the effort of choking the girl visible in his muscles.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
The man froze and straightened.
“Shit,” Veronica hissed.
“Please state your emergency.”
Dropping the girl in a crumpled heap, the man turned towards Veronica. The dark hid the features of his face—all she could tell was that the skin of his forehead was light in shade.
Veronica clutched the phone, stepping backward. “Please, there’s a man here, he’s—he’s coming—”
His face came into the light. He was thinner than she would have guessed, and he wore dark-rimmed glasses. With a gasp she pivoted and lunged for the restaurant door, but it was farther than she thought it would be, and he was on her, his hands digging into her shoulders. The phone flew from her hand.
She screamed and yanked herself free of his hands, but he clutched the back of her shirt.
“Help! Help me!” she yelled.
Pain exploded in her scalp as he dug his hand into her hair and hauled her back. Attempting to turn to face him, she lashed out, clawing at his face, but he twisted the hand that gripped her hair, bringing her to her knees. She felt her scalp tear and wailed.
“Shut up!” he grunted and it felt like a brick hit the side of her head. Then his hands were on her neck. Her fingers dug into his hands, just as the other girls’ had. As light popped in front of her eyes, she saw that the girl was moving, dragging herself on the ground. Then everything went dark.
~~~
Daniel was holding Veronica’s hands in a steely grip when she came back to herself. She jerked away from him but he didn’t let go. “Let me be!” she choked out, her breath coming in quick gasps, and he released her. She rubbed the back of her left hand with her right, glaring at him. “What the hell, Daniel?”
“You were clawing at your throat. I had to stop you, you almost drew blood.”
Veronica’s hands flew to her throat. She could feel tender scratches. “Damn,” she breathed. Closing her eyes, she willed her breathing to slow down. “He was choking me,” she murmured, keeping her eyes closed. She felt Daniel’s hand stroke her shoulder. With a sigh, she opened her eyes again, letting them take in the room. The woman from her vision lay motionless in the hospital bed, machines displaying flickering numbers and spitting out paper with jagged lines. The murderer from the alley hadn’t managed to kill her, in the end. At last, Veronica said, “I saw everything Sarah saw.”
“Can you tell me about it, or do you need a moment?” Daniel asked.
Veronica swallowed and touched her throat again. “I can tell you,” she said. She described her vision, and the man with the dark rimmed glasses.
“Could you identify him, if you saw him again?”
“I only saw his face for a second in the light,” Veronica said. “But I could try.”
“Caucasian, you said? Twenties?” Daniel began writing down notes in the pad of paper he always carried.
“Early twenties, I’d guess.” Veronica tried to recall every detail of his face. “Light or medium brown hair… it was pretty short. Not a crew cut, but short. Not a very big forehead. Heavy eyebrows, deep set eyes. I don’t know what color, but probably not blue.” She closed her eyes and attempted to bring the memory of that quick flash of his face back into focus. “His nose… I think maybe it was broken—it had a bump, you know, like it had been broken in the past. Maybe a scar, too, I’m not sure—but the shadow on it, it wasn’t a straight line. But he was wearing glasses, so maybe that’s all it was. His mouth was—I’m not sure. Not very full lips, though.”
After a moment she opened her eyes again. “That’s all I’ve got.”
Daniel gave her a quick nod. “Okay, let’s go to the station and have a look at some photos.”
~~~
After two hours of poring over mug shots Veronica rubbed her eyes and closed the last book. Nothing. No match.
“As best I can figure,” she said as she found Daniel at his desk, “the guy I saw doesn’t have a photo in your books.”
“Okay,” Daniel said. “Maybe I can get Marisa to meet with you tomorrow or Monday. She’s a sketch artist.”
Veronica nodded. “You never told me what made the male victim unusual,” she reminded him.
Daniel pursed his lips, looking around at the bustle in the station. He gestured for Veronica to lean in, and she obliged him. “His name is on the TSDB.”
“What’s that?”
“The Terrorism Screening Database.”
“He’s a terrorist?” she hissed.
“Well, he’s at least done enough suspicious stuff for the FBI to notice him. But you have to keep in mind, there are something like 400,000 names on that list.”
Veronica straightened and sat on the edge of Daniel’s desk, mulling this over. “Well, neither of my visions gave me any information on him—what’s his name?”
“Robert T. Murphy,” Daniel said.
Veronica frowned. “That’s not exactly an uncommon name. Are you sure he’s the guy on the list?”
Shaking his head, Daniel tapped a pen on his desk. “No, I’m not. That’s why I’m not saying anything about it to anyone but you. I was hoping you’d see something that would clarify things.”
“How did you guys ID him already?” she asked. “Did the murderer leave his wallet on him?”
Daniel shook his head again. “Pretty close though. We found it a few feet away from Ivy’s body. I think when the perp was struggling with her it must have fallen out of his pocket or wherever he was keeping it.”
“Yeah, he’d have been distracted even more because Sarah’s 9-1-1 call interrupted him.”
“CSI will be running all the prints from the scene. We should know soon if the Murphy we found is the one from the database,” Daniel said.
“Then what happens?”
“I’m not sure,” he answered. “I’ll get access to any file the FBI has on him, but they might not have much of anything. If he’s any kind of a big fish, they will, and we may end up collaborating with them.”
Veronica nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.”
“Hey, you may still help us ID the perp, if we get any suspects down the road.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Just let me know.”
“You going to try to meet up with Sunny and finish your movies?”
Veronica shrugged. Her fingers found a lock of her hair and she twisted it absently. She wanted to talk to Daniel about everything else that was going on—Eric, the airplane vision, Melanie—but the whole murder-terrorism thing really overshadowed it all. And then there was her vision of him at Sunny’s, and the impending Question… not that she thought he would just pop it in the middle of the station, but it made her nervous even so. Better to wait. There would be a better time to talk about everything than now.
Releasing her hair, Veronica sighed. “I’ll have to call Sunny and see what she says.”
“You should try to finish the movies,” Daniel said. “I mean, if you still want to. I’m sorry I messed it up.”
With a slight grin, Veronica fake-punched his shoulder. “So selfish of you, wanting me to help you catch a possible terrorist.”
“Well, there’s no way to know if the perp’s on the list or not,” Daniel said, his tone more serious.
“No, but that’s the fear, right? That these murders are part of something bigger.”
“That’s the fear,” Daniel agreed.
“So I guess you’re going to work late tonight.”
; “Yep.”
“Call me if I can help at all, okay?”
“Will do. And maybe I can take a break later. I’ll probably be ready for a change of scenery around dark o’clock.”
“Right,” Veronica said. “‘Dark o’clock’ it is. Call me. We can go out for coffee at that diner on K. I’ll see about Sunny, but even if she has plans I’ll stay up until you call.”
“Deal.”
Chapter 7
Sunny wanted a rain check. “We can’t just start halfway through Vertigo; let’s just have another triple feature.”
Veronica made her way to her car, her cell sandwiched between her ear and her shoulder as she rummaged in her purse for her keys. “Sounds good. When?” she asked.
“I’m working the next three days. So… Wednesday?”
“Sure.” Veronica stopped short. Felsen was leaning against the door of her little blue car. “See you then,” she added, and hit “end” after Sunny’s response, which she didn’t hear. Veronica lifted her chin and forced herself to walk up to Felsen, even though seeing her there felt like finding a rattlesnake on her front stoop. “Detective,” she said.
“Miss Barry,” Felsen replied.
“You’re in my way,” Veronica pointed out.
Felsen straightened, but didn’t stand aside. “I noticed you spent quite a while at the station today. Looking at mug shots?”
Veronica inhaled deeply, willing the urge to run back to Daniel to subside. “Yes,” she said without elaborating. Let Felsen ask her questions. Veronica was not going to help her.
“And who, might I ask, were you hoping to identify?”
“Why don’t you go talk to Daniel about that?”
“I can only assume,” Felsen said, ignoring this, “that you’ve seen some suspicious person lurking around your neighborhood? That you have some… legitimate reason to be pawing through Sac PD’s photo books?”
Veronica crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows. “Oh yes. Perfectly legitimate.”
“Do tell.”
She glared at Felsen, narrowing her eyes. “I suggest you talk to your partner if you want the inside scoop.” Then, something occurred to her. “Oh, wait, that’s the problem, isn’t it? He won’t let you in on his hunch.” Veronica shook her head slowly, her eyes glittering. “Well, well. Looks like someone’s attitude problem is finally catching up with her.”
Felsen fixed Veronica with a stony gaze. “You haven’t scratched the surface of my ‘attitude problem,’ Miss Barry. I don’t recommend pushing your luck.”
“Whatever,” Veronica said, slipping past Felsen and opening her car door. “You just keep doing what you do, Detective, and I’ll keep doing what I do. See you around.”
Felsen took only one step aside as Veronica managed to insert her key into the ignition and start the car without betraying how shaky she felt. She pulled away, making a point of watching the traffic, using her blinker, and carefully making a right turn. As soon as she had gone two blocks, she pulled over and turned off the car. Closing her eyes, she leaned her forehead against the rim of the steering wheel, taking deep breaths. “I hate that woman,” she whispered.
~~~
The best antidote for a run-in with Felsen, Veronica decided, would be to pay Melanie a visit and focus on someone else’s problem for a while. Melanie was finishing up the last wall in the living room. Veronica picked up a roller and lent a hand as she asked how Melanie was doing.
“I’m okay,” Melanie said with a shrug. The gesture revealed how tense her shoulders were, however, and Veronica made a mental note to suggest Melanie book herself a massage. Now seemed like the wrong time to bring it up, however—Melanie was showing all the signs of being in an “I’m fine, dammit” mood, and she would refuse any suggestion to take care of herself.
“Good,” Veronica said instead. “Looks like the painting is almost finished, too.”
Melanie nodded. “I’m starting to regret the color, though. I wish I’d gone with robin’s egg blue, after all.”
Veronica peered at Melanie from the corner of her eye. This painter’s remorse was also a bad sign. Melanie had rare moods where she would tear all the curtains off the windows or throw out whole sets of dishes because she suddenly could no longer stand them. These periods of dissatisfaction always coincided with something much more serious—a problem at work; a fight with her mother; Angie’s dad, flaking on child support payments—and Melanie’s current situation would be a prime trigger. The last thing she needed, though, was to exhaust herself repainting the living room.
Veronica had to redirect Melanie’s energy somehow. With a sigh of resignation, she realized she wouldn’t be able to escape her own problems by coming here after all. The best and only way she was going to get Melanie’s mind off a trip to Home Depot for robin’s egg blue paint would be to get her interested in some of the complications going on in Veronica’s life at the moment.
“Mellie, you won’t believe the vision I had at Sunny’s earlier today.”
Melanie paused mid-roll and raised an eyebrow at Veronica. “What did you see?”
Veronica shook her head and sighed. “It looks like Daniel’s going to pop the question sometime soon.”
“No way,” Melanie said, the roller sagging in her hand. “You saw him propose to you?”
“No,” Veronica said. “I saw him talking to Sunny in her kitchen.” She described the vision, quoting each thing Daniel had said precisely—she hadn’t forgotten a word.
Melanie nodded, pursing her lips and raising her eyebrows. “That does sound like he’s planning a proposal. What are you going to say?”
Sighing again, Veronica half-heartedly applied more paint to the wall. “I don’t know. I don’t want to break his heart, but I don’t feel ready for marriage! And there’s this other thing.”
“What other thing?” Melanie asked, setting the roller down. “Veronica Barry, have you been holding out on me?”
With a little moan, Veronica shook her head. “Not exactly. It’s all very recent stuff.”
“Okay. It’s break time. We’re having tea.”
“But there’s only like two square feet left to do.”
“I’m sick of painting, and I want the dirt, missy. To the kitchen, now.”
Once seated at the table, a glass of peppermint iced tea in front of her, Veronica told Melanie about Eric’s Facebook message.
“Wait, this is French Eric?” Melanie asked. “The one from when you were twenty? I didn’t know you were still in touch.”
“We aren’t, I mean, aside from Facebook—which he’s never on. He sent a friend request a couple of years ago. I never see anything of his in my stream. He must have signed on just to send me that message.”
“I can’t believe you said you’d meet him.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do? I have to try to keep him from getting on the plane. And what would be even better is if I could find out what plane it is and figure out some way to keep it from taking off in the first place.”
“Have you told Daniel about any of this?”
“Not yet. I’m going to, though.”
Melanie raised her eyebrows.
“I am!” Veronica insisted. “I tried to tell him this morning but he wasn’t answering his cell. Then when he called me this afternoon it was to invite me to a lovely crime scene. It didn’t seem like the right time.”
“You didn’t tell me about this either! What crime scene?”
Veronica updated Melanie on the investigation Daniel was doing. “Just keep in mind we don’t know for sure if this Murphy guy is the same one from the terrorist list.”
“The TSDB isn’t a list of terrorists, V. It’s a list of suspected terrorists. It’s even looser than the No Fly list and people get on that one all the time who haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Well, that’s exactly my point. This murder victim might not be the same guy, and even if he is, he might not be a terrorist. So just don’t say anythin
g to anyone about Daniel’s hunch, okay? He’s really not sure about it and he doesn’t want to say anything until he knows more.”
“Who am I going to tell?”
“I don’t know, ADA Darnell, maybe?”
Melanie rolled her eyes. “Okay, no leaking Daniel’s hunch to my boss.”
“Thank you.”
“Well. You’ve sure been a busy bee.”
“It’s a lot, and all in the last like, forty-eight hours. Less than that!”
Melanie took a sip of tea. Setting her glass down, she peered at Veronica through narrowed eyes. “So. What are you going to do about these unresolved feelings for Er-eek?” She pronounced his name with an exaggerated French accent.
“I don’t know,” Veronica said, resting her arm on the table and fiddling with the rim of her glass.
“And it’s such amazing timing. What with the proposal hanging over your head and all. What are you going to tell Daniel?”
“I don’t know!” Veronica moaned, dropping her head onto her arm.
Melanie sighed in pleasure. “It’s so nice not to be the only one with problems.”
“Thanks a lot.” Veronica’s voice was muffled against her arm.
Patting Veronica on the head, Melanie took another sip of tea. “Cheer up. This time last year you were having a three-year dry spell. Remember that? Too many men is better than none at all, isn’t it?”
Raising her head, Veronica scowled at her friend. “I’m really not sure.”
~~~
Veronica went home for dinner. A text from Daniel at ten thirty informed her that he was “too tired, going straight home.” It was just as well. Veronica felt pretty beat, herself, and the idea of driving back out to meet him for coffee sounded like running a marathon at this point. She texted back, “NP, see you tomorrow” and let Harry back in from the yard. “Time for bed, buddy,” she told the dog, who panted at her happily.
She spent some time in the bathroom in front of the mirror, looking at the fading marks on her neck. They were almost gone—with some luck by tomorrow or the next day they’d hardly be visible. It was rare for a vision to be so strong she acted it out, but the attack on Sarah Berkovich had done it. She finished washing up and headed for her room.
The Plane and the Parade (Veronica Barry Book 3) Page 7