by Brenda Novak
Nick set his jaw, determined to ignore the subtle taunt. It was intended to remind him that he might be in charge of this operation, but he was still an outsider. “I’m familiar with it. I collected soil samples not far from the bridge yesterday. What makes you think Ritter might’ve been murdered there?”
“A man by the name of Bates came forward this morning. He works for Solid Security, the company hired by the parks and recreation district to lock up the public rest rooms. He normally starts at dusk. That’s when the parks close. But ten days ago, he was running late on his rounds. He stopped for a Coke at the 7-Eleven on the corner of Fair Oaks and San Juan and ran into a friend from his church who’d just bought an old Corvette. They took a ride in it, shot the breeze for a while, then Bates got back to work. He was closing down the rest rooms on the Sunrise Bridge around ten-thirty when he saw a flicker of light in the trees upriver. He thought some clown was driving his truck down the bike path, so he headed over to see what was going on. When he got there, he found a Geo Metro parked at that small boat launch just beyond the old Fair Oaks Bridge.”
“Okay, so what’s the significance of the Geo?”
“Bates couldn’t find the owner. Even though he’d just seen the headlights, whoever had driven the car had disappeared.”
“Bates is a security guard. Doesn’t he carry a flashlight?”
“Yeah, and he used it. He looked in the car. He looked in the brush and down by the water. He called out. Nothing.”
“I’m still waiting for the connection to Sarah Ritter.”
“He couldn’t find any people, but he found something else.”
“What?”
“A tennis bracelet.”
“Where?”
“On the ground.”
Steve Ritter had given his wife an expensive diamond bracelet for her last birthday. He’d said she wore it all the time, never took it off. But it had been missing when her body was discovered in the Dumpster.
Nick’s heart started to pound. Maybe, just maybe, he’d finally caught a break. He wanted to believe it, wanted to crack this case wide open. Then Maggie would be safe and he could abandon the lies he was perpetuating where she was concerned.
But Bates’s story bothered him. “He found a diamond bracelet in the dirt and leaves and rocks when he was looking for the driver of the vehicle?”
“That’s what he said. He met me and Hurley here at the river just a few minutes ago and showed me where. It was at the opening of a small footpath leading off into the trees.”
“Did he get the plate number off the car?”
“No. Said he didn’t think to check the plates.”
He was a security guard and he didn’t think to check the plates? “So when did this happen?”
“A week ago last Wednesday.”
“What took him so long to come forward? The Trib ran a story about the murder the day after the body was found. It mentioned the missing bracelet. I know, because I made sure of it. And it was on all the news stations.”
“Bates didn’t see any of that. This guy doesn’t read the paper or listen to the news. He’s a real movie buff, apparently. Rents film after film. Anyway, when he couldn’t find anyone at the river and nothing about the car seemed suspicious, he thought someone had simply lost the bracelet. So he pocketed it to give to his wife as an anniversary present. But she knew it was far more expensive than he could afford and questioned him about it.”
Nick rubbed the stiff muscles in his neck. He’d been up too long and was starting to feel it. “So she’s the one who made him call in?”
“Yeah.”
They’d connected Sarah Ritter to a place by the river that was very likely where she died. He should be elated, Nick told himself. Now he could go in and comb the area for other evidence that might lead him to her murderer. But he was having a hard time believing that a security guard who’d come upon an empty car and was looking for its driver would instead find something as small as a bracelet lying on the ground. There were no lights along the river. At ten-thirty, it would be pitch-black, except for the small halo from his flashlight and any effect the moon might have had.
Nick decided to check the calendar and see what phase the moon was in that night, but even if it was full, he felt Bates’s explanation of the evening’s events a stretch. If the security guard had truly been looking for the driver of the car, he should’ve been shining his flashlight waist-high or higher, for his own safety, if for no other reason. He wouldn’t want someone to come at him from the trees, unseen….
Mendez broke into Nick’s thoughts. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Nick replied. “Having someone like Bates come forward is just too good to be true. And when something seems too good to be true, it usually is. How long did he say he’s been on the job?”
“Seven years.”
“Where is he now?”
“He met us at the park to show us where he found the bracelet, but then he had to go take care of his mother.”
“He had to what?”
“Take care of his mother.”
A sick feeling began in the pit of Nick’s stomach. “What did you say this guy’s name was?”
“Bates. Norman Bates.”
Nick dropped his head into his hand. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered.
“What’s wrong?” Mendez demanded. “I have his address and phone number. You can contact him if you want.”
“It would be a waste of time to even try. We won’t be able to find him.”
“Why? He lives right here in Fair Oaks. If the information he gave us is wrong, we’ll put a trace on the call he made to the department—”
“Definitely give it a try, but I seriously doubt it’ll do us any good. Haven’t you ever seen Psycho, Mendez?”
“Are you talking about a damn movie? What’s a horror flick got to do with—” Mendez’s voice fell off and Nick knew he finally understood. “Shit. Norman Bates was the name of the slasher in that movie. Dr. Dan just played me for a chump.”
If the shoe fits… Nick’s hand tightened on the receiver as he struggled to swallow his irritation. Dammit! Mendez should’ve paged him, then Nick would have met Dr. Dan face to face, just like Mendez and Hurley had. It was a lot to forgive, but making enemies of these two detectives wouldn’t help the investigation. He could only hope Mendez had been sufficiently humbled and would now be easier to work with. In any event, Nick had to make the most of what their killer had given them.
“Meet me at the bridge in twenty minutes,” he said. “Maybe we won’t walk away empty-handed, after all.”
MAGGIE COULD SENSE Nick’s presence before she opened her eyes. She could smell his masculine scent, feel him hovering over her.
“Nick?” she murmured, forcing her heavy lids to open. Her blinds were shut, but a harsh yellow sun filtered through the cracks at the edges, and the temperature in her room had edged up to eighty or more degrees. “What time is it? Is my car fixed?”
Nick’s gaze slid over her face, but his tawny eyes were shuttered. He seemed different than he had during the night, more distant. “It’s fixed, but I don’t have time for you to drive me back to the paper to get my truck right now. I’ve got some things to do and I’m sort of in a hurry. Can I borrow your car for the next few hours, instead?”
Somehow, leaving Nick with a good excuse to return to her house later in the day wasn’t as unappealing to Maggie as she would have preferred. She’d already made him breakfast, but her brain immediately started supplying her with a menu she could prepare him for dinner—steak with mushrooms, baked potato, salad, wine. And she didn’t even like to cook.
“Sure. When will you be back?”
“I don’t know yet. If you need something, just page me. I’ll leave my number on the counter in the kitchen.”
“Okay.”
Maggie heard his brisk stride on the hardwood floor as he retreated down the hall. There was a brief silence, some more steps, and then the cl
ick of the front door. Finally her car engine roared to life.
She rolled over and called Mrs. Gruber to check on Zach, then got up to lower the thermostat on the air conditioner in her window. Opening her blind partway, she squinted at the brightness outside. She wondered why Ben hadn’t called her. Hadn’t he liked her story?
She picked up the phone and dialed the paper. After two short rings, her editor’s gruff voice came on the line.
“Ben Cartland.”
“Ben, Maggie. Did you see my piece?”
“Yeah. It’s going in tonight. Lower right.”
“Lower right of what?”
“Front page.”
Front page? Her story was going on the front page? Maggie couldn’t believe it. How many nights had she lain awake, dreaming of seeing an article of her own on the front page of a major newspaper? “So you like it?”
“It’s just what I was looking for. But don’t pat yourself on the back too soon. This story isn’t over yet. You stay on top of the police and keep tabs on what’s happening with this killer, you hear? Sacramento hasn’t seen the likes of a story this big since the lady on F Street started killing her boarders and planting them in her backyard so she could collect their social security.”
Maggie swallowed. It was that big. So big it frightened her. No more tabloids. No more blaming Tim for the reason she wasn’t doing exactly what she wanted to do. She finally had a chance to prove herself, and she was terrified she’d blow it. Did she really have what it took to make it in this business? Her ex-husband didn’t think so. He’d patronized her and pretended, at times, but when it came down to it, he didn’t think she’d ever be more than she was right now—a minor player. Her mother didn’t understand her aspirations, either. Rosalyn Anderson thought a woman’s place was in the home and couldn’t relate to a female whose ambitions extended beyond ironing. But Aunt Rita sympathized. Every time her mother called to talk Maggie into moving home and “settling down to find a man,” Aunt Rita got on the extension to tell her not to buy into the guilt. Live your own life. Remain true to your dream, she’d say.
And that was exactly what Maggie planned to do. For her and for Zach. She only hoped her dream would remain true to her.
“Will you give me the exclusive on this, Ben?” she asked, clenching her fists and holding her breath until he answered.
“Jorge’s had a lot more experience than you have,” Ben replied. “I’m not sure I want to cut him out this early in—”
“But I’m the one who dug up the details of the other murders. If not for me, we’d all still believe this was a one-shot deal.”
“That’s true.” Her editor paused, but when he spoke again his voice revealed his irritation. “I’ll think about it. For now, just concentrate on doing your job.”
He hung up and Maggie sighed. So much for the exclusive. Jorge could easily end up stealing her story—and her raise and the long-coveted satisfaction of success. By this time next year, she could be making pot roast in Iowa.
Maggie looked at her rumpled bed. It was barely noon, but after talking to Ben, she doubted she could relax enough to sleep again. She’d found it hard enough to drop off after Darla’s call. Now she had Jorge and her job to worry about.
Turning up her police scanners, she scooped up the telephone to check her voice mail at work.
“Maggie, this is Ray from Sports. I’ve got to cover an Oakland A’s game tomorrow afternoon. Want to come along? We could take the top off my Mustang and buzz down for a hot dog or two. Maybe I’ll even get you a signed ball. Give me a jingle.”
Maggie raised her brows. Ray was asking her out? Jeez, just a few days ago, she was considering a dating service. Now she was juggling three guys at once. Granted, Ray wasn’t going to take up much time. He couldn’t pass a mirror without stopping to admire himself. She wasn’t about to go out with a man like that, but there was John. He’d definitely piqued her interest. And Nick, of course. Nick piqued a lot more than her interest. He made her libido skyrocket. But she wasn’t planning to let physical attraction replace genuine admiration. Or good sense.
She jotted down Ray’s cell phone number and skipped to the next message, then froze when she realized it was from Dorothy Jones, one of the Sacramento Police Department’s dispatchers. “My shift is over and I’m just heading home,” Dorothy said, “but something came in this morning just after you called that I thought might interest you. It was a tip on the Ritter case. Some guy’s found the victim’s diamond tennis bracelet just east of the Sunrise Bridge along the bike trail. Hope this helps. If it does, you owe me lunch.”
Maggie smiled. Hallelujah! With any luck at all, she’d owe Dorothy a really nice lunch, something along the order of steak and lobster with champagne.
NICK GLANCED DOWN at his beeper and swore. He’d only left Maggie twenty minutes ago. What could she want already?
Tempted to ignore her page, he looked up at Detectives Mendez and Hurley. He’d just arrived at the Sunrise entrance to the river, and the detectives were walking up the short incline from the footbridge to meet him in the parking lot. Thin and wiry with brown eyes and blue-black hair that glistened in the sun, Mendez seemed small next to Hurley. His lithe build reminded Nick of a sleek, fast greyhound. But if Mendez was a greyhound, Hurley would be a mastiff. Almost six foot six, three-hundred-plus pounds and as white as a white man came, he made everyone else look small and considerably more cunning. Fortunately, Nick had spent enough time with him to know his mind was actually rather quick.
“I’m sorry about what happened,” Mendez said. Hurley nodded but didn’t speak. He wasn’t one to waste words. His strong suits included watching and listening, which was a good thing considering that Mendez typically shot his mouth off enough for both of them.
“You wouldn’t expect something like that. It’s not every day a murderer contacts the police pretending to be a tipster,” Nick said, deciding to be generous.
“You told me about the letters, but we haven’t received any, and I never dreamed our perp would pull something like this.”
“Well, now you know the kind of arrogance we’re dealing with. Dr. Dan likes to feed his ego by making fools of us. He has a thing about law enforcement. He’s obsessed with it, determined to prove he’s faster and smarter than we are.”
“Maybe he wanted to be a cop at one time and was turned down for some reason. Or maybe he really does work in security.”
“That’s certainly a possibility. Only he seems to be good at a lot of things. The way he wields a knife suggests other interests or vocations. But the next time you receive a tip like this, I want you to get hold of me even if you have to dial my number a hundred times.” Nick stared pointedly from one detective to the other, his expression stony enough to let them know he wouldn’t tolerate another breach in conduct.
“You got it, man,” Mendez said, his voice resolute.
Hurley’s nod was almost imperceptible, but Nick knew a promise had been made.
“At least we know what our man looks like,” Mendez said. “Hurley and I both met him, so now we can work with an artist to get a sketch going.”
Nick nodded. “A composite would really help at this point. Did you get some tape around the crime scene? I don’t want any joggers or bikers in there until I’ve had a chance to search the area.”
“Tape’s in place. The other members of the task force just left,” Mendez said.
“Good.” Nick’s beeper went off, and the detectives waited while he checked the number on his screen. Maggie again. She’d paged him twice in five minutes. She obviously needed something. Using the cellular phone he carried on his hip, he dialed her at home.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping. What’s up?” he asked.
“I need my car. And I need you.”
“I was wondering when you’d come around. What about John?”
“I mean I need a good photographer,” she clarified. “A friend of mine just tipped me off that the Ritter bracelet has bee
n found.”
Nick frowned. Already? Apparently Maggie had better contacts than he’d realized. The details she’d dug up about the other murders, despite his call to Atkinson, had been his first clue. This was his second. He’d have to be careful or they’d bump into each other and blow his cover. “What do you want to have photographed?” he asked her.
“Where the bracelet was discovered on the American River, near the Sunrise Bridge.”
Damn. He hadn’t even had a chance to go over the crime scene yet and Maggie was already landing in the middle of it. “I’m pretty busy. Is there any hurry?”
“Are you kidding? This kind of stuff doesn’t wait. Right now I have the jump, but if I don’t get my story in to Ben right away, we’ll end up seeing it on Channel 10 News or somewhere else. Reporting is very time-sensitive. And first place is always better than second—or last.”
“What about Zach?”
“Mrs. Gruber’s still got him. He’ll be fine with her.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Nick said, swallowing a sigh. “Take a taxi to the Sunrise access, and I’ll meet you there.”
“That’s going to cost me time and money,” Maggie complained.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“How?”
“Dinner. A massage. Free baby-sitting. You choose.”
Mendez raised his brows and looked at Hurley. Hurley shrugged.
“I’m leaning toward the baby-sitting.”
“You might want to think about it. I’m not so good at baby-sitting.”
“Yeah, something tells me you’re better at massage.”
Nick lowered his voice. “You can find out.”
“Uh…I think I’ll go for door number three and take the dinner.”
“That comes as no surprise.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You always play it safe.”
“Not always.”
“You’re scared.”
“No, I’m not.”
“I’m just about ready to make you prove that.”