Senseless

by Mary Burton

  “I broke it off about six weeks ago.”

  “How did Sara handle it? ”

  “I thought well. From the beginning I made it clear that we would never be forever. When the breakup came, she was composed. But in the last couple of weeks I noticed she’d lost focus. I assumed the breakup had finally sunk in and she was just having some issues.”

  “How did she change?”

  “Late for work. More argumentative. Nothing most would notice, but I did.”

  “Did she find someone new?”

  Furrows creased his brow. “No. I don’t think so.”

  Garrison detected a note of jealousy in Fairchild’s tone. He didn’t want her, but didn’t like the idea of her moving on to someone else. “Did she ever mention Lisa Black?”

  “That newscaster profiled her the other day. She died in a fire?”

  “She was murdered.”

  “Oh.”

  “They know each other?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  Garrison scanned the walls of Sara’s office. Behind her desk were diplomas. An MBA from the Wharton School of Business. And next to it a BA from Price University. Price. Sara had gone to Price and so had Eva. “Did she keep up with any of her friends from college?”

  “She did have a reunion last year, but I don’t know the details.”

  Malcolm glanced up from the screen. “If she did have someone new, they didn’t communicate via e-mail.”

  “Let’s check her phone records for texts. Do you have her phone numbers, Mr. Fairchild?”

  Fairchild pulled his phone from his breast pocket, punched a couple of numbers and then rattled off Sara’s phone numbers. “I doubt you’ll find much. She and I never texted.”

  “She might not have worried about a paper trail with the new guy.”

  Fairchild pursed his lips, but said nothing.

  Malcolm packed up the laptop and glanced over at the wall behind Sara’s desk. He frowned but said nothing. After they’d left, he said, “Everyone talks via text or social networking sites these days. I’d bet a paycheck that if she had a guy, she communicated to him via text.”

  “I think you’re right. My sister’s phone is just about glued to her hand. Dig into her phone records. I’ll bet money she had a new guy.”

  “Where you going?”

  “After I drop you off, I’m headed over to Cross Industries.”

  “I thought you might. ”

  “This is the second connection I’ve had to the Cross family. ”

  “And Price University.”

  “Imagine that.”

  “The killer knew them from school or through the family. ”

  “Or both.”

  The four girls sat in a circle around the stone fireplace. A hearty fire crackled and popped in the hearth, warming the room and chasing away the chill of the spring night.

  Now as the flames flickered and cast shadows against the stone hearth, the girls sat in a circle, each a little tipsy from wine.

  “We’re out of wine,” Kristen complained. “And I for one am not ending this night until I’m good and drunk.”

  Eva glanced at her half glass of wine. Her stomach had soured and she wondered where she could dump the wine so that no one would see. At seventeen, she was four years younger than the older girls. Freshman year had been a struggle socially and it seemed she always came off as a dork. Now, this last night on campus in the sorority house, she wanted to come off as cool. For once, she wanted to feel a part of the group and not some tagalong kid.

  Sara raised her glass. “I could definitely use more wine.”

  Lisa’s lips rose into a lazy, sloppy grin as she brushed a dark curly strand from her round face. “Me three.”

  Eva smiled. “Sure.”

  “Well, if you girls want more wine then ante up. “ Kristen always bossed the group around. “I’m not paying for this alone.”

  Each girl nodded, eagerly digging into pockets. Eva hesitated. She was the only girl that worried about money. She had about seven bucks left in her purse that was supposed to last her until tomorrow when her sister came to pick her up. Her summer waitress job began tomorrow night, but she’d not see a paycheck for a week. Unlike the others, Eva attended Price on scholarship and every dime counted. But this was her last night and she didn’t want to come across as a cheap ass in front of her best friends.

  Kristen glanced down at Eva’s glass. “Aren’t you going to finish that?”

  “Soon,” Eva said. She raised the glass to her lips and pretended to drink.

  Kristen’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not drinking that much. ”

  “I am too. “And to prove it, Eva took another sip. Her stomach coiled and she forced a smile to prove she wasn’t about to throw up.

  “Let me finish it,” Kristen said. “I’m not buzzed enough.”

  Eva handed the glass over to Kristen. “It’s good wine.”

  “It’s crap,” Kristen said. “I’ve had glasses of the good stuff and this is crap. “ She sipped the wine as if it had a foul odor. “But it’s got alcohol in it and that’s all that counts.”

  Sara glanced at Kristen. For the first time a hint of worry flashed across her face. “There’s no rush.”

  “There’s always a rush to get drunk,” Kristen said.

  “She’s drinking because Josiah isn’t here,” Lisa said. “He doesn’t like it when she drinks.”

  Kristen rose up on wobbly feet. “I don’t need my boyfriend’s permission to drink or not. I do what I want.”

  Eva rose, fearing Kristen would topple. “We don’t have to get more wine right this second. Maybe in an hour or two. ”

  Kristen frowned. “No, it does have to be tonight. If I can still stand then I’ve not had enough.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Sara rose and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. “You’re not yourself. ”

  Sara had finally voiced what each of the other three girls had whispered about all week. Kristen wasn’t herself. She’d been moody, tired and sick to her stomach occasionally.

  Eva ran her fingers through her long, dark hair. “Are you feeling okay, Kristen?”

  Kristen leveled her gaze on Eva like a lioness scoping prey. “I’m fine.”

  Eva held her gaze. “I’m not so sure.”

  Sara took courage from Eva. “You’re not fine.”

  Lisa stood. “You can tell us.”

  Kristen pointed at each one of them. “What is this—some kind of lame intervention? Get off my back.”

  Eva had seen a scene like this play out in a movie once. Friends saw that their buddy was in trouble and rallied to help. In the end, the buddy was saved. “You’ve been off for a couple of weeks.”

  Kristen’s face paled. “What did you say?”

  Lisa stared into her glass as if it held the meaning of life. “You get sick in the mornings a lot. ”

  “Eva is right. You aren’t yourself. You sleep all the time. “ Lisa’s voice faltered, as if she tossed matches toward gasoline.

  Kristen’s gaze didn’t waver from Eva whom she clearly blamed for this new line of conversation. “I’m fine. And I sure don’t need advice from a girl who hangs out with the housemaid and her daughter. ”

  “I like Rebecca.”

  Kristen leaned forward. “She’s a loser, Eva. She’s going to be a maid just like her mother. A loser. ”

  Eva’s temper rose. “You’re sick. You’re tired. And you said you and Josiah had sex.”

  Bracing, Eva waited for Kristen’s explosion of temper. Here comes the storm.

  But in that instant, Kristen crumbled. She let the nearly full glass of wine fall to the carpeted floor. Tears flowed down her cheeks.

  Immediately, Eva’s anger melted to pity. Crap. What had she done? Her sister always said that she shot her mouth off. “Kristen, I’m sorry.”

  The other girls gathered around Kristen like natives circling the settlers’ wagons.

  Lisa shot Eva a nasty lo
ok. “God, why would you say such a thing?”

  Sara shook her head. “Eva. You are such a bitch.”

  Kristen cried so hard, her shoulders shook for several minutes as the three just watched helplessly. No one knew what to say, as if sensing they played out of their league.

  Finally, Kristen straightened and looked at Eva with red-rimmed eyes. “You can’t tell anyone. Especially, Josiah. ”

  Eva shook her head. “I won’t tell.”

  “Josiah is crazy,” Kristen said. “I broke up with him last week, and if he knew about the baby he’d never let me go.”

  The girls knew Josiah had a temper. Kristen had made excuses for him, but the girls always worried.

  “You can’t tell Josiah about this baby” Kristen said. “Swear. ”

  Each girl nodded.

  Each girl swore.

  “I didn’t tell!”

  The hushed desperate whisper rushed over Eva’s lips as she jogged up the back staircase of the condo building. Eva had never told anyone about Kristen’s baby. Ever. Even during the darkest times during the trial when she’d felt betrayed and alone, she’d kept silent.

  And when Garrison had been at King’s last night, she could have told him about the baby and maybe drawn heat away from herself. Kristen Hall was just months away from a huge wedding that would join two wealthy families. Maybe this wasn’t about Josiah, the Cross family or Price. Maybe it was about keeping an old, dangerous secret.

  Clutching her backpack, Eva pushed through the heavy exit door and stepped from concrete to plush carpeting. She moved down the hallway, her shoulders back, aware she did not fit in this sleek place. She glanced at the message from Luke and the address at the bottom. Wentworth Towers. Condo 7-C. She rang the front bell.

  Her stomach bunched in knots as she waited. Finally, high heels clicked on the other side of the door seconds before it snapped open.

  In the doorway stood a sleek, tall woman with curly red hair and sharp green eyes that narrowed instantly. “Eva Rayburn. You’re about the last person I ever expected to see again.”

  Eva clenched the strap of her backpack. “Hello, Kristen.”

  Brittle green eyes turned frigid. “What do you want?”

  She’d not expected a gushing welcome but she’d also not expected the coldness. “Do you have time to talk?”

  Kristen didn’t open the door wider. “Do you want money? ”

  Eva’s body grew rigid. “No, no money. I just wanted to talk.”

  Kristen glanced behind her and then stepped out onto the hallway. She closed the front door behind her. “What do you want, Eva?”

  “Did you hear about Lisa?”

  The flicker of emotion darkened her eyes. “It was on the news. Sad. What do you want?”

  Eva had always looked up to Kristen as had Lisa and Sara. Kristen was the perfect one—the girl her sorority sisters emulated and the one the boys desired. Back in school, Eva had wanted to win her approval so badly. And to Eva’s surprise the years hadn’t erased that need to please. For a moment, she wished now she’d run a brush through her hair and picked her best shirt. And then Eva caught herself. “I want to talk about Sara Miller.”

  Kristen huffed her impatience. “What about her?”

  “Sara is dead too.”

  Kristen folded her arms. “What?”

  “Killed. Murdered. I’ve seen pictures of her body.”

  Color drained from Kristen’s already-pale features. “Why are you telling me this? ”

  “I thought you might know what happened to her. Or who might have killed her.”

  “Why would I know something like that?” The disgust in her voice sounded genuine.

  “Let’s face it, Kristen, you had your pretty little fingers in everyone’s business in college and I’ll bet nothing’s changed.”

  Kristen shook her head. “You hated us.”

  “What?”

  “You hated Sara, Lisa and me. We had money, whereas you had to scrape to get money from a vending machine.”

  “You three were my friends until the trial.”

  “You mean until we saw you kill Josiah,” she hissed. “What do you expect? That we’d all remain friends?”

  “Where were you standing when you saw me kill Josiah?”

  “What?”

  “Where were you standing?” Eva wanted those missing minutes broken down into minute detail, and Kristen was one of the few who could do it for her.

  “How am I supposed to remember something like that?”

  “You’d think a moment like that would be burned in your brain. ”

  “This is an insane conversation. And if you don’t leave now I’m going to call the cops.”

  The threat didn’t carry the weight it would have a few days ago. “Go ahead. Call them. There are things I never discussed because I was protecting you. But now I’m wondering why I should keep quiet.”

  The lines around Kristen’s mouth and eyes hardened and for a moment she looked ready to call someone. “What is this visit about?”

  “I keep wondering about the night Josiah attacked me. The night you told us about the baby.”

  “Shut up. I never told you anything like that.”

  “A lot of details are hazy from that night. But that tidbit is crystal clear.”

  “I don’t have time for this.”

  Eva’s gaze glanced at Kristen’s hand and the large ring on her engagement ring finger. “You’re getting married. That’s nice.”

  “So what if I am?”

  “Your fiancé doesn’t know about the baby.”

  “There was no baby,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Eva leaned in. “I remember how you threw up every morning. How you cried to us about having Josiah’s baby. You were terrified for the baby.”

  Ice returned to her eyes. “You’ve got the wrong girl, Eva. Maybe you were the one that was knocked up. Maybe in a drunken rage you killed Josiah when he threatened to tell your secret.”

  The distortion unlocked something in her subconscious. “I only had a half a glass of wine that night.”

  “I refilled your glass a half dozen times.”

  “I kept pouring it out. I should have been sober but I felt groggy.”

  “You drank more than you thought.”

  Eva didn’t have all the pieces but some tumbled into place enough for her to say, “You set me up.”

  Kristen’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

  “You knew Josiah was coming that night. You left me alone in the house because you knew what he’d do to me. Did you drug my wine?”

  Her skin paled a fraction. “Prison and time has made you insane.”

  Eva didn’t rise to the bait. “Why would you set me up? I don’t remember killing him. And over the years, as hard as I’ve tried to recall what happened, I can’t. I’m starting to wonder now if I did kill him.”

  “Get out of this building now!”

  Kristen’s voice rose higher than she intended and a neighbor opened his door. He was an old man, bald, dark, wearing a workout suit.

  “Everything all right, Ms. Hall?” he said.

  Kristen chiseled a smile from her icy features. “Just fine, Mr. Gayton.”

  His beady gaze darted between Kristen and Eva, and when it settled on Eva’s tattered jeans and T-shirt, it hardened. “I’m calling the cops.”

  “No, don’t!” Kristen said quickly. For the first time, Eva realized someone else feared the cops more than she. She’d struck at the heart of a nerve.

  When the old man finally vanished, Kristen hissed, “Get the hell out of my life. And if you breathe a word of any of this to anyone, I’ll have my attorney bury you.”

  “Someone is killing people we know. Someone is branding them with a four-pointed star.”

  Kristen lifted a brow. “Is that someone you?”

  “Drugs and pain aren’t clouding my memory or thoughts now. I see very clearly. The big question is am I looking at the
killer?”

  “Stay away from me or you will find out.”

  Eva shook her head. “Be careful, Kristen. Two of the three girls who testified against me are dead.”

  The anger in her gaze wavered briefly. “Is that a threat?”

  “No. I’m just pointing out the pattern to you, like when we were in college. You remember how I could guess the test questions so well? I see a pattern and you and I are a part of it. ”

  “Stay away from me.” Kristen stormed back into her apartment.

  Eva stood there a long moment, her grip on her knapsack strap so tight her hand ached. “Don’t count on it.”

  Garrison parked at the Cross mansion an hour later. Built in the 1930s, the house’s stone façade and heavy windows with overhangs gave it a gothic old-world look. A heavy front door with a wrought-iron door handle and knocker added to the heaviness.

  When Garrison rang the bell he waited barely seconds before a maid opened the front door. He held out his badge. “I’m Detective Garrison with the Alexandria Police Department. Is Mr. Micah Cross available? ”

  Most people were taken aback when he showed up on their doorstep. People just didn’t like talking to cops. But the maid didn’t seem rattled. “Please come inside. I’ll see if he is available.”

  Garrison was escorted into a living room furnished with Mission-style furniture, artwork that looked expensive and carpets that cost more than he made in a year. The room had a heavy feel that reminded him of a 1950s B movie.

  Garrison moved toward the fireplace mantel. Above it hung a portrait of Darius Cross. His features were stern, his gaze hard. On the mantel sat a collection of photos. Most of the pictures of Micah and Josiah appeared to have been taken at least twenty years ago. As he stared at the faces that were so identical, he realized the boys had been twins, something he’d not known.

  Micah Cross appeared. Tall and slim, he had a pale complexion and dark brown hair. Glasses set off blue eyes and accentuated hollowed cheekbones. The pictures of Josiah in Eva’s file had been of a young college kid, not a man in his early thirties. Still, even as a young man, Josiah’s angry hardness made him appear older than Micah did now.

  “Detective Garrison, is it?”

  “Yes.” He pulled out his badge and held it out for Mr. Cross to examine. “Thank you for seeing me.”