“This is the weather for it. Good night, ma’am. Drive safely.”
PJ closed the window, wondering why the officer couldn’t see the fear she was certain was shining from her eyes like beacons.
“Excellent,” came the voice from the back seat. “Let’s get moving.”
PJ drove in silence as April called out directions. There was almost no traffic on the street and the plows weren’t out yet. The Focus clung to the road, traveling through twin ruts in the snow.
“So who’s that back there in your house?” PJ asked. She felt she’d better start talking, engaging, charming, whatever it took.
“A prostitute,” April said. “Can’t draw in the Johns with bruises all over her body from her last beating, so she’s taking time off. A hundred bucks, and all she had to do for it was sit around in my living room and watch TV. She’ll be lucky if some trigger-happy cop doesn’t blow her head off. Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“Turn off the radio, will you? The voices are distracting me.
PJ reached over and turned the knob, even though the radio was already off.
“How much did Jasmine tell you? I was never able to get a bug into that office of hers,” April said.
PJ hesitated. The less she revealed, the better.
“She told me that you had some problems living at home and went to her country home for awhile.”
“That’s it? No lies about paranoia, bad temper, seeing things?”
“No. I don’t think Jasmine wanted to talk about you. I was the one who went there and pressed her for information.”
“How did you find out about me?”
“June told me there were rumors of an older sister. I was curious.”
I’ve got to be the one asking the questions, drawing her out.
PJ wondered if this was to be the last hour of her life. That made her think about Arlan, the stand-in for the man who’d raped both April and her mother. What had he endured in his last hours? She would have to be strong.
Fortunately, I am a cool-headed woman of science.
When the car passed under a streetlight, PJ glanced up to the rearview mirror. She caught a glimpse of April. Thin, almost gaunt. Red hair unkempt, gone too many days without a shampoo. Eyes constantly on the move. Lips pressed together into a line that sliced across her face like the stroke of a knife. She seemed to be listening to something, almost certainly was: the odd chattering of a schizophrenic mind.
Things might have been different if April had gotten early treatment. A better life for her, and people might not have died.
PJ tried to picture the face in the mirror as the teenager in the swimsuit in Mexico, holding a beach ball. At that time, April’s schizophrenia hadn’t stepped into her life like an elephant tearing up a garden.
With the rape, her life hadn’t been a garden anyway.
It was time to test the waters. “Why are you so angry with your sisters, April?”
A stream of profanity flowed from the back seat. PJ waited it out, wondering if she’d get any answer other than that.
“I have to get them before they get me. Now that I’m out, see. Destroy them so completely they can’t come after me and put me back there. I can’t understand why the fucking police couldn’t get it right. May killed those men. I watched her plan it and watched her do it.”
“You mean May’s husband and June’s husband?”
“She shot her husband through a pillow. Feathers floated down and stuck in his blood. She’s guilty. The little bitch was always guilty of something. She hid cookies from me.”
“What about Arlan? Did she kill Arlan, too?”
“The goddamned knife was in her house! May had to punish Arlan. He did something really bad. But she murdered him and she should be in jail for the rest of her life. Locked up. They put me in handcuffs. Now it’s her turn. Turn left at the next corner.”
She’s going to kill me for sure. She’s giving away so much because she already knows I’m not going to tell anyone.
April continued talking, raging against May for a variety of offenses. A new image in PJ’s mind drowned out the words from the back seat—tucking Thomas into a body bag instead of his bed, and zipping it up over his bloodied face.
Despair blackened the edges of PJ’s vision. It was all she could do to keep her hands on the steering wheel. She wanted to reach back and yank the gun away from April.
I have nothing left to lose. When I get a chance, I have to take it.
“June was only a baby when you left St. Louis. What about her?”
“She got my life. May got my life, too. They both have to pay.” April laughed, a sound that froze PJ’s blood. “Auntie Jasmine’s already paid. Didn’t I ask you to turn off that damn radio?”
“Sorry. I’ll take care of it now.” PJ turned the silent radio off again.
“That’s better. Right turn here. I could never forgive them for not helping me when I was locked up. You’re supposed to love your sister.”
Helping you? You were dead to them.
“April, did you know that your parents and Auntie Jasmine told everyone you were dead? They had a funeral for you and everything. May and June didn’t know you were alive and being held against your will.”
April’s shrill voice was abruptly cut off. She didn’t know, couldn’t have known because all information that reached her was undoubtedly filtered. Jasmine was responsible for that, and it seemed like Jasmine was already dead.
The first of how many today?
“That’s a lie. I’m not dead, I’m right here. They abandoned me.”
PJ wasn’t going to break through April’s delusions. If it were even possible, it would take a lot more therapy than PJ had time for. They had just arrived at May’s home.
The snow had let up as rapidly as it had started. Walking to the door, PJ noticed a few stars poking through thinning clouds. It would have been a beautiful view, the pristine expanse of snow and the heavy coating on the trees, like paint splashed on with a heavy brush. Beautiful except for the gun shoved in the small of her back.
PJ knocked on the door. April didn’t want to use the doorbell that probably had multiple receivers around the house, and she stood off to the side of the tall doors. PJ gauged the distance April had placed between them, and judged it too far to get the gun away.
I’m only going to get one chance at this. Can’t waste it. Wait for it.
PJ’s stomach was in knots. She hoped no one answered the door. There were lights on in the house, but there might be lights on somewhere in the huge place all the time.
The door swung open and Mary Beth smiled a warm greeting.
Oh God, no, no!
Sensing April moving up behind her, PJ swung both of her arms up, trying to block the entrance. “Get out of here!” PJ shouted.
“What?” Mary Beth’s eyes widened. She must have spotted the person behind PJ, and was backing away.
April ducked low and fired beneath PJ’s outstretched arm. Mary Beth was hit in the chest. Blood appeared on her shirt and widened impossibly fast. Another bullet struck her forehead, and she collapsed.
PJ brought her arm down hard, but April wasn’t there anymore. She was out of reach, still on the porch.
“Get inside,” April said.
Her breath coming fast and shallow, PJ moved into the hallway.
And lunged for the security system panel, where there was a glowing red button that said Emergency. Her situation certainly qualified as one.
Her hand inches from the button, PJ felt a blow on her head, and sank to the floor alongside Mary Beth.
Chapter 52
SCHULTZ WATCHED AS THE team finally went in, to do what they called “serving a high-risk warrant,” and what he called “Get ’em before they get you.” He was across the street, closer than he was supposed to be, behind a car. The house, a Dutch home with a gambrel roof, was shrouded in snow. Even though the snow was easing off, wind was whipping around what had a
lready fallen. The house looked no different from the rest of them lining the quiet street. Inside the other homes, family life went on with its ups and downs. Inside this one was a killing machine, the antithesis of life.
He wasn’t feeling the jangling inside that he normally felt when the link connecting him to a killer had sprung into being, and he was this close. Adrenaline was creating a rush of sensation in him strong enough to drown out any of that awareness.
He heard the shotgun blasting the hinges off the front door. As the door fell aside, a flash-bang was tossed in. The loud burst of noise was muted a little by the snow. In seconds there were shouts of “Police!” and “On the floor!” and “Hands over your head!”
Schultz was in the house seconds after the SWAT team called clear, hand wrapped tightly around the warrant. He was there to preserve evidence and keep the SWAT intrusion to a minimum. They knew they were supposed to do considerable evidentiary processing, but it wasn’t always the first thing on their minds.
They had an unarmed woman in custody, lying on the floor on her side, her hands cuffed behind her back. He shooed most of the team out of the house, leaving only a couple to handle the suspect. Coming over for a closer examination, he studied the woman. She was terribly frightened, crying, not at all defiant like he would have expected. That’s when he noticed her hair.
April was Sparkle Farkle, red-haired from birth. This woman had noticeable black roots. Her red hair was a dye job.
Fuck. Another look-alike.
She’d be arrested and tested, but Shultz was willing to bet his left testicle that her mitochondrial DNA wouldn’t indicate that she was the third sister. April was one giant step ahead, and that added fuel to the cold fire already ignited inside him about these murders.
With the familiar motion and patter of the crime scene techs around him, Schultz made his way systematically from room to room. Nothing seemed unusual until he got to the spare bedroom. It was disquieting, even for him, to walk in and find a body strung up with a hangman’s noose. The body was pierced with enough knives that it could fairly be described as a pincushion.
There should be a large pool of blood underneath the body, but there was only shag carpet, brown flecked with gold, and dry. Looking closer, he saw that it was a familiar manikin, a Resusci Anne used for CPR training. He’d had a refresher course just a few months ago. There was a rope and winch setup suspending the body from a ceiling hook, looking eerily similar to the scenario PJ had come up with in the barn.
Without the beams twenty feet overhead. Without the flies, and without other things.
He spun the manikin around with his flashlight, and got another shock. Instead of the manikin’s bland face with perpetually open mouth he was expecting, a photograph of May Simmons’s face was glued in place and anchored by a knife through the forehead. The anger expended on the manikin made April’s intent clear. He didn’t even need a shrink to tell him what that intention was.
Schultz dialed the number at the Simmons house. The phone rang several times, but May finally picked up. He told her briefly that the police had just missed snagging the prime suspect, and that she should stay in her house with the security system on.
“It so happens I’m not going anywhere. My evening of bridge was cancelled because of the snow.”
“What about your children?” He heard a TV playing loudly in the background.
“Nanny took off as soon as she heard I’d be home this evening. She’s visiting a relative in the hospital. The kids are watching a video.”
“Go check on them, will you?”
With an exasperated sigh, May put the phone down and was gone for several minutes. “They’re fine. The alarm system’s on.”
“Has it been on all the time up until now?”
“I suppose. Nanny’s good about resetting it when she goes out.”
“All right, you just stay there. I’m going to get officers outside.”
He went through the same type of conversation with June, requested outdoor surveillance at both houses, and dialed Riverview Elder Care. Rhonda answered, and informed him that Jasmine was working in her office and didn’t want to be disturbed.
“Use that buzzer intercom on her. I want to talk to her.”
“If you insist,” Rhonda said. After a minute she came back to the phone and said, “She’s not answering. I told you she didn’t want to be disturbed.”
“Get in there now and tell her I have to talk to her. If the office door is locked, get somebody to open it. Break it down if you have to.”
Schultz heard the phone being set down hard on Rhonda’s desk. She was doing everything she could to express her irritation with him, while still trying to cooperate with the law. Schultz was used to that kind of behavior, so she wasn’t getting under his skin.
Several minutes passed. Schultz was still in the lynching room. He let his eyes wander while he was waiting. They fastened on a bulletin board with items haphazardly pinned up. He walked over to it. There were recent clippings about the Metro Mangler with parts underlined and comments written to the side, none of them flattering to the St. Louis Police Department. There were pictures of all members of the CHIP team, including some taken at their homes with a telephoto. Schultz winced when he saw several pictures of PJ and him kissing at the front door, in the car, sneaking a kiss outside Millie’s, and one photo that showed his hand planted on PJ’s ass. He knew he had to deal with their boss-worker-lover situation in the department, and soon. He was sure all members of the team knew about their relationship. Lieutenant Wall was probably waiting for them to work things out on their own, but wouldn’t wait too long. What was on the bulletin board was going to force their hands.
There were also surveillance pictures of murder victims.
Schultz heard screaming through the phone, and his heart sank. He hadn’t liked Jasmine, but he wouldn’t sic April on anyone. The phone was knocked onto the floor and picked up.
“She’s dead! Oh my God, she’s dead!” Rhonda sounded like she was on the edge of hysteria. Had she and Jasmine been close? Closer?
“Rhonda,” he said, using a voice that assumed control. She sniffled and stopped yelling. “Is there a second phone line?”
“Yes. Oh my God!”
Schultz imagined that what she’d seen in Jasmine’s office involved a lot of slicing and blood.
“Call 911 on the other line, Rhonda. Don’t hang up on me. Come back to me as soon as you’re finished.”
She was back in a couple of minutes, her voice shaky but better controlled.
“Now I want you to make an announcement over the public address system and tell everyone to return to their rooms and stay there.”
“We have a code for ‘Intruder in the Building.’ All the residents and guards know it. I’ll use that.”
When she came back, he told her to sit down on the floor behind her reception counter and wait for the cops. He stayed on the phone with her until he heard the police arriving. Anxious to go to them, Rhonda hung up on him.
Only then did he realize he’d left PJ standing in the snow at her car. He dialed her cellphone, but the call rolled over to voice mail. A little annoyed that she wasn’t accessible, he sent an officer out to locate her.
Chapter 53
PJ AWOKE LYING ON the floor in a dark room. The floor was hard to the touch, and rough, probably tile. Sitting up, she felt dizzy. There was a painful spot on her head, and she could tell that blood had flowed down her forehead and all the way to her neckline. Her hands were tied behind her back. Waves of pain were chasing each other up her leg from her left ankle.
There was a line of light coming in under a door. Her head spun, and she saw double strips of light. She wasn’t ready to move, but wasn’t ready to wait in a confined shooting gallery for April to return.
April! How long have I been out?
Everyone could be dead. May, June, Jasmine. And any collateral damage, like Mary Beth. April wouldn’t hesitate to wipe out anyone who sto
od between her and the women who’d stolen her life. A bloodthirsty Cinderella.
There were children in the house.
PJ tried to stand and found that she couldn’t. Her leg was twisted under her, with sharp jabs from her ankle. She rolled onto her stomach. Her injured left ankle smacked into the floor as she did so, sending bolts of searing pain up to her hip. She lay still, trying to bring her breathing and heart rate down. Then she began to inch her way across the floor. With her good foot, she could get leverage on the rough tiles. Scraping along slowly, she made it to the door and stopped to rest. Then, grimacing, she braced her back against the door and slowly worked her good foot back toward her. Her leg and arm muscles trembled with the effort, and her left foot dragged painfully. Her fingers spread, she walked up the door a fraction of an inch at a time. Once she got her rear several inches off the floor, it got a little easier.
Standing up with all her weight on her right foot, leaning against the door, she again stopped to rest. PJ was very aware that every minute that went by increased the chances of multiple deaths in the house, if it wasn’t too late already. And of April coming back to finish her off.
Twisting the knob, she found it turned freely, but there had to be a lock somewhere else, because the door wouldn’t budge. She used her shoulder to feel around on the wall in the spot where there would normally be a light switch, right inside the door. She flicked it on with her tongue, wondering if she was going to get shocked, like sticking her tongue in a wall socket.
No shock, just lots of light. Blinded, she pinched her eyes shut, then opened her eyelids just a little, getting a view of the room through narrow slits. What she saw startled her enough that her eyes flew open.
Blinking hard against the light, she realized she was in a storage room for sex toys. There were shelves lined with dildos of all sizes, shapes, and colors. Strap-on dildos were hung on hooks. There was a rack of clothing with all kinds of sexy lingerie, skimpy little nurse and maid costumes, and men’s thong underwear, pouches covered with sequins or feathers, even a leather thong with spikes on the pouch. Hanging on the wall were two life-sized inflatable dolls, one open-mouthed female and one amply endowed male.
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