by Mary Burton
She’d been so naïve then. So willing to please that she’d have done just about anything. Only later did she realize that Lisa had approached Eva because of Eva’s reputation as a math wiz. She’d been no more valuable to the girls than a calculator.
“Well, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Eva turned toward the familiar voice and smiled when she saw Sally sitting at her favorite bar stool. “Why are you so pale and ghostly looking? You sick, honey?”
Eva shook her head as she wiped the bar. “The news identified the name of the woman at the fire. Just kind of creeped me out.”
Sally nodded, the laughter dimming in her eyes. “According to the news her name was Lisa Black.”
Eva frowned. “Why was she behind the shelter?”
Sally sat down and scooped a handful of nuts from a bowl. “I don’t know. Seems odd such a high-end girl would find her way to us. But you never know why people end up where they do.”
Her Lisa had come from money. There’d be no reason to seek a shelter. “She doesn’t look like the homeless type.”
“Maybe her issues weren’t money. You’d be surprised what haunts people.”
Eva wasn’t surprised at all. “You’re not going to believe this, but I think I went to college with her.”
“Think?”
“She looks so different. She’s even changed the color of her eyes. But the more I stare at the picture the more this gal and the other seem the same.”
Sally raised a brow. “No kidding? You went to school around here?”
Just cracking the door to her past sent a bolt of shivers through her body. “It was just for my freshman year and it was a long time ago. She looked so different then.”
The older woman’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Couldn’t have been that long. You can’t be more than mid-twenties.”
“Let me place your order. The usual?”
“You take such good care of me, doll.”
Sally’s fishing for information had Eva’s defenses rising. Thankfully, the bar needed her to fill empty beer mugs, deliver a hot dog platter and refresh the peanuts. By the time she’d rung up a few tabs, Sally’s sandwich was ready. Eva set the plate in front of her.
“I’m dying to know more,” Sally said. “I mean, what are the chances that you’d know a dead woman.”
“Yeah. What are the chances?”
“So dish. Tell me about her. What was she like in college?”
The old barriers rose into place. Silly to be so guarded with Sally, but to talk too much about Lisa cracked the door even wider to her own past. And she wasn’t in the mood for scaring off friends or losing a job. Not that Sally would run or King would fire her. But fear didn’t always make sense.
“She was a good student. I liked her. But I haven’t seen her since college. We lost track.”
Sally studied her tight features and, as if sensing Eva’s tension, changed the subject. “I’m already on the hunt for a new place to house another shelter.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Met with the board today and they want to find a new home. Lucky for us it’s an election year. A few local senators want to look like the good guys.”
Relieved to be talking about current stuff, Eva smiled. “Hey, we take what we can get.”
“Yeah. But I’m no good at sweet-talking those hoity-toity folks. I never am all that comfortable around rich people.”
“Join the club.”
Sally bit into her sandwich, nodding her approval. “Good eats as always.”
“I’ll tell King.”
“How is the old man doing?”
“Great.”
“You know I heard something odd about him the other day. ”
“Really.” Eva avoided gossip, even with Sally.
“Did you know that he lost his wife and son in a car accident?”
“I knew of a loss but no details.”
“A drunk driver killed them.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Seems King found the driver of the car and beat him to a pulp. He nearly killed him. King faced attempted murder charges but ended up with parole. Judge said he’d suffered enough. The drunk driver didn’t see a day of jail time or parole.”
Eva shifted, feeling uneasy with the turn of conversation. “I don’t feel comfortable talking about King. This is his business. He doesn’t poke in my life and I plan to stay out of his.”
Sally picked at the edge of her sandwich. “That’s what I like about you, Eva. You judge people as they come. You don’t hold the past against them.”
Garrison and Malcolm waited at the Leesburg crime scene for the county forensics team and hung around until they had processed the apartment and removed the body. It was ten P.M. by the time Garrison dropped Malcolm off at the station. Malcolm bid him good night and slid wearily into his own car.
Tomorrow would prove to be another long day. With luck they’d be plowing through video surveillance and trying to identify the man that had sat next to Lisa before she’d vanished.
As Garrison pulled out of the police parking lot, he considered stopping by King’s and talking to Eva. Something about her kept tickling the back of his brain. He’d learned to not ignore the sensation, but right now with less than five hours’ sleep since Monday night, he understood he needed a few hours of sleep under his belt before he questioned her.
Garrison would have given his left arm just to go home and hit the sack, but he’d promised his mother he’d stop by. Today was the anniversary of his sister’s death and in the last twenty years since Debbie had died, Garrison and his parents always got together, if only for a few minutes.
Debbie had died during her junior year of high school. She’d suffered from cystic fibrosis since birth and keeping her healthy and alive had always been a struggle. Many nights he’d sit up talking to her when her breathing labored. She mostly rambled during those long nights but he believed if he remained at her side death couldn’t snatch her away. He always promised her that everything would be fine. The night of his senior prom, Debbie lay down to rest and her heart stopped. Their mother found her and called 911 but doctors declared her dead upon arrival at the hospital.
Many had assumed that the family would cope easily with Debbie’s death since it had been a part of their lives since her birth. But Debbie’s death had been as unexpected and tragic as any accident. Garrison’s parents wanted him to get on with his life and he’d done the best he could. He’d still played on the football team his senior year, escorted four girls to the prom and had told jokes to anyone who would listen. His mother stepped up her volunteer work and his dad split his time between whatever cases crossed his desk and tinkering with a Ford remodel. For at least a year they’d lived in the same house but had barely spoken to each other.
The anniversary of Debbie’s death had been what had forced them together for a memorial service the school had sponsored. As Garrison watched the slide show featuring Debbie, he’d cried his first tears. His parents had held him as he’d let the sadness flow out like poison.
From that day forward, when he was in town, they gathered on this day.
He pulled up in front of the brick rancher, got out of his car and slammed the door. He reached the front door in three quick strides. He knocked and then opened the door. “Mom, Dad, Carrie?”
His mother poked her head out of the kitchen door. “There you are. I was getting worried.”
He crossed and kissed his mother on the cheek. “Sorry. But you know how the job goes.”
“Please. I’m married to a thirty-year veteran of the force.” She squeezed his arm. “Only too well. Are you hungry? ”
“Starving.”
“Go on out to the garage and check in with your dad. He’s been working on that car for hours, grumbling about where you are. I’ll bring you out a plate.”
“Thanks. Where’s Carrie?”
“Sleepover at Julia’s. She knows I’m a mess on this day
so she decided to avoid all my sloppy tears this year.”
Mark and Eileen had adopted Carrie just after her fifth birthday. The lost little girl’s parents had died in a car accident. The Garrisons still missed their daughter, but Carrie had fit perfectly into their lives. The little girl had helped heal the wound left after Debbie’s death.
Garrison liked the kid. In fact she reminded him of Debbie—the way she played her music too loud, her talk of clothes and boys and the way she hugged their dad when she wanted something.
“Carrie hasn’t forgotten that you promised to take her to the outlet mall.”
Deacon groaned. “I’d hoped she had.”
“Kid never forgets a promise.”
The idea of schlepping around Potomac Mills Mall with a teenage girl made him want to hide, but he’d keep his word. “Now I remember why I never promise anything.”
Eileen smiled. “Sunday still work?”
“I’m in the middle of a case. It may have to wait.”
“She understands cases. But she’ll know when you’re done with it and are free.”
“That kid is destined to be a cop.”
He grabbed a cookie from a plate beside the stove and headed across the kitchen through the door that led to the garage. He found his father standing beside a workbench organized with military precision. Screwdrivers lined up in descending order like soldiers. Spare parts were boxed in neat little boxes that his father had labeled with a black marker in precise block lettering, and the car that Mark Garrison was restoring glistened as if it had just been washed.
“About time you got here,” his dad said. He set down the carburetor. “Working?”
“Yeah.”
Mark reached below his workbench to a small refrigerator that he kept stocked with beer. The beer was supposed to be a secret from Eileen who monitored her husband’s blood pressure like a hawk. But Eileen had discovered her husband’s secret long ago. Maintaining the pretense had become a game.
His dad pulled out a brown bottle filled with a microbrewery beer. He twisted off the top and handed the bottle to his son before grabbing one for himself. “Don’t tell your mother.”
A smile played on Garrison’s lips. “Never.”
Mark held up his bottle. “To Debbie.”
Garrison raised his bottle and clinked it against his father’s. He took a long pull, needing the moment to wrestle the surge of emotion from his chest. Shit. He’d lost a sister. “Their deaths never get easy.”
“Sucks.”
“How’s Mom?”
“You know Mom. She keeps a smile on her face, but I caught her watching home movies last night. We bawled like babies.”
“Which ones did you watch? ”
“Remember the beach vacation from hell? The one where it rained and you and Debbie fought the whole time? You must have been in sixth grade.”
Debbie had felt good that summer so their parents had opted for the family’s first vacation. “Christ, she annoyed the hell out of me that week. She kept stealing my stuff so I’d have to track her down and demand it back.”
“That last night on vacation you two sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to your mother. I taped it.”
“I’d forgotten about that.” For the first time in a long time his smile was genuine. “Debbie had painted a mustache on me while I slept.”
His father chuckled. “They weren’t kidding when they said permanent marker. Of course the hearts you traced on her cheeks to get back at her didn’t help the situation. ”
“She had it coming.”
“So there are my two kids, looking like rejects from the circus, singing ‘Happy Birthday’ off-key and as loud as they could to their mother.”
“Pretty bad.”
He heisted his beer and took a swig. “Nope. Pretty great.” Mark sniffed back a tear and set his bottle down on the workbench with a thud. “So tell me about your case before I bawl again.”
Garrison welcomed the distraction. He cleared his throat. “Remember that fire at the homeless shelter on Monday night?”
“Yeah. There was a fatality.”
“The victim wasn’t killed by the fire. She was stabbed to death.”
“Really?” His father’s eyes sparked with a hunter’s gleam Garrison had seen so often as a kid.
“The killer did something odd to his victim. He burned stars into her skin before killing her.”
His father frowned, his cop’s mind working full speed now. “Really. What kind of star?”
“Interesting you should ask. A four-pointed star. The killer used a branding iron.”
“Really?” Mark Garrison sipped his beer. “Any forensics?”
“The killer is very careful. Organized. We thought we might have a witness, but the guy was found dead in a Leesburg apartment. Also stabbed.”
Mark took a pull on his beer. “Were all the points of the star even or shaped like a cross?”
Deacon’s attention sharpened. His dad’s mind still worked like a cop’s. “Even. What do you know?”
Mark shook his head. “There was a case in a small town thirty miles south of here about ten years ago. I didn’t work the case but heard about it. The victim was branded with a four-pointed star.”
“Was she stabbed?”
Mark rested his hand on his hip as if sinking into the past. “No. She lived.”
“Do you remember the particulars?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “The guy brutally raped her and then took her necklace, heated it on the stove and burned her skin. The prosecution turned things around and made it look like the victim and rapist were lovers. I remember being pissed for the victim. ”
Eileen pushed through the door that connected the garage to the kitchen. She had a plate with a roast beef sandwich, pickles and chips. In her other hand she held an iced Coke. “You two look deep in thought.”
“I was just telling The Boy about an old case. You remember the Price University case?”
Eileen set the plate on the workbench. “I do. That was about the time we adopted Carrie.” She shrugged. “Of course the two have nothing to do with each other. We mothers mark the time with our children.”
“What was the girl’s name?” Mark said.
“I don’t remember her name, but I do remember the case. I saw her in the news and she looked so lost. My heart went out to her.”
“Dad said she was burned with a star-shaped pendant,” Deacon said.
“Yes.” She dropped her gaze and frowned. “As I remember, the girl attended Price University on scholarship. What did she and her friends call each other?”
Mark hesitated then snapped his fingers. “The Shining Stars.”
“No, that wasn’t it.” She frowned and then snapped her fingers. “The Rising Stars. One of the girls had pendants fashioned up for each girl. They were in a sorority together. ”
Mark nodded. “That’s right.”
“I don’t remember how the rapist knew the girls. Maybe he dated one of them.”
Mark nodded. “That’s right. He came to the house the last day of the semester. Broke into the house, found her alone and brutalized her. When the other girls returned, the house was on fire. They barely saved the victim. The story got a lot of media attention because it involved a pretty girl and a rich boy.”
Anger burned hot in Deacon’s gut. “And the attacker? What happened to him?”
“The victim killed him,” Eileen said.
Grim satisfaction rose in Garrison. “Really?”
“Not so good,” Eileen said. “The boy was Josiah Cross and his father was Darius Cross.”
“The wealthy businessman?”
“That’s right. He refused to believe his son could be a rapist. And he went out of his way to prove that the sex was consensual and the girl killed him in a jealous rage.” Eileen shook her head. “Your dad told me he’d seen the case files. Said no way a reasonable man could look at her bruising and medical reports and believe they had consensual sex. B
ut the girls from the sorority house all testified that they saw the girl kill the boy. Hit him with a poker. ”
Garrison took a pull on his beer. “What happened?”
Mark’s lips flattened into a grim line. “She was convicted of manslaughter and sent to jail.”
“Shit.”
Mark shrugged. “Darius Cross would not be denied. He wanted his son’s memory cleared and this girl punished. I’m not so sure if it has anything to do with your case.” Mark shrugged. “Silly to recall an old case. I doubt the two are connected. The star brand jogged my memory. ”
“When did you say this happened?”
“Ten or so years ago. While you were still in the air force.”
Deacon picked up a chip and ate it. “Couldn’t hurt to look and see if either of my victims were connected to the case.”
Moonlight glistened on the street as Eva draped one arm around a customer as she held up her other hand to hail a cab. The man walking beside her wobbled with each step and he smelled of the gin he’d spilled on his pants. He’d shown up at King’s drunk about an hour ago. At first she’d not realized he’d had too much so she’d served him. But when he ordered his second gin and tonic in less than ten minutes she’d cut him off and called a cab.
“I’m fine, little lady,” he slurred.
At least he was a happy drunk. “I know.” The cab stopped and she leaned him against the side as she opened the back door. “Remember, come to King’s tomorrow for your car key. We’ll have it for you behind the bar.”
He gifted her with a sloppy boyish grin. “I will never remember that.”
“I’ve tucked a note in your pocket just in case.” She guided him into the seat and fastened his seat belt. She gave the driver the man’s address, which she’d gotten from his driver’s license. “Be careful, Harvey.”
His head dropped back against the seat. “Will do, doll.”
She closed the door and the cab drove off. Her back ached and her feet had grown to the size of watermelons. Shaking off the fatigue, she went back inside. Over the next half hour, she cleaned the bar and put the chairs on the tables for tomorrow’s cleaning. King remained in his office counting the day’s receipts and preparing the night drop at the bank.