Nowhere to Run (Stephanie Carovella)

by Nina D'Angelo

  He winced and she jerked back her hand, as if she’d been burnt. Touching her fingers to her lips, her eyes welled up with tears. “Oh Jesse, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you.”

  Jesse pulled her closer to him, kissing the top of her head. He tangled one hand gently into her hair. “I know, babe,” he whispered, his concerned gaze meeting Ben’s.

  Ben’s brow furrowed in concern. Looking from Stephanie to Jesse, he said slowly, “Stephanie, you said everyone around you died. Jesse and I know how hard it was for you to lose Dominic, even to lose Angel.” He reached out and tucked two fingers underneath her chin, turning her head to meet his solemn gaze. “But, sweetheart, I think you better tell us who the hell Carolyn is, don’t you?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Gena paced around the interrogation room, like a prowling tiger. She gave an impatient growl. She was angry, angrier than she’d ever been in her life. Here she was, a decorated Detective, thrown into an interrogation room like she was a common criminal.

  “This is bullshit, Jase. You know that, don’t you?” she hissed furiously, stopping to glare at the one-way window. “Bullshit, I tell you,” she mouthed directly to the window, knowing from experience someone was always watching from behind it. She’d spent many hours herself, observing an interview from behind the same window.

  “Gena, why don’t you just sit down?” Jase said tiredly, running a hand over his jaw. He understood her anger. He felt some of it himself, but he also knew it wouldn’t get her anywhere.

  Franklin Delucci would watch and wait for them to blow a fuse before he entered the interrogation room to interview them. It was a tactic he’d used many times over the years. It gave him a feeling of confidence, and it allowed him the chance to profile his suspects. It left his suspects frustrated, completely on edge, and allowed Delucci the chance to seize on any mistakes he or she might make. Jase knew Delucci’s methods well. He should, since he’d been his partner for almost ten years.

  Gena took a deep breath, knowing she wasn’t going to help their situation by getting worked up. Forcing herself to calm down, she walked over to where Jase sat, sliding into the chair beside him. She smiled coolly at Frank Delucci when he entered the room. “This is highly irregular isn’t it Detective Delucci?” she asked calmly.

  The only hint she was furious was in the broadening of her New York accent and the ice in her eyes. Delucci said nothing. Silently, he placed three folders onto the left side of the table and his coffee cup on the right.

  Sitting down opposite them, he smiled. While Jase was acting cool and not showing any of his emotions, Gena Evans was staring at him like she was going to reach across the table and grab him by the throat at any moment.

  “I do apologize for the delay,” he began.

  Jase cut him off. “Drop the bullshit act, Frank. What’s the deal here? Are Gena and I suspects or are you just mind-fucking us for your own amusement?”

  Delucci took a sip of his coffee. “No, no Jase. You have it all wrong.” Staring at their mutinous expressions, he appealed to them. “Surely you can see it from my point of view. Hell, you’d both do the same if you were me.”

  Gena interrupted him coldly. “What? Screw over both your former partner and a fellow Detective, just so you can look good?”

  “Look Evans, I don’t like this anymore than you do. I’ve known Jase since we were in the Academy together. We spent ten years working side by side with him on cases just like this one,” Delucci said in frustration.

  “Yet, here we are,” she said mockingly.

  Jase said nothing. He sat and watched the interplay between the two Homicide Detectives. He smiled inwardly at the blow by blows. He knew the ten years he’d worked with Delucci wouldn’t matter if Delucci thought he was involved in the murder of Ana Ferrier.

  “Damn it Evans, you have to understand my position. Jase was dating a murder victim and doing God knows what with Cynthia Mallory. Now she’s missing and he was found at the crime scene,” Delucci said, anger getting the better of him. He added sarcastically, “Not to mention he knew this victim.”

  Gena arched an eyebrow. “Is that all you’ve got? He knew all the victims?” She spat, holding out her hands. “Then you better cuff me too since I also knew both the victims and I worked with Cynthia Mallory.” Pausing, she stared at him with contempt. “This is all circumstantial and you damn well know it. It wouldn’t even stand up in court. The Judge would laugh your ass out of the courtroom. If you’re going to play it out this way then fine, I’ll play your game. You might as well as read me my Miranda Rights and throw me in jail because, not only did I know this victim well, I also knew a victim from another murder case. A case, I believe is, directly linked to this crime.”

  She slumped back into her chair, closing her eyes, a wave of exhaustion hitting her. She was tired. Tired of getting the run around from Delucci and tired of sitting here for hours on end, only to be asked pointless questions. She’d been here for more than six hours, and unless they planned on holding her, she was walking.

  She still had so much to do. She had her own cases to investigate and her own leads to chase up before they grew cold. Opening her eyes, she glared at Frank Delucci. Delucci could do his worst. He could accuse her of every crime under the sun. Right now, she didn’t give a damn. Her friend was dead, and another was missing.

  The worst was still yet to come. After she left here tonight, she would have to face her friends, friends who were like family to her. She’d have to face them all and tell them Ana was dead. She would have to explain Ana had been murdered, possibly another victim of the same crazed serial killer who’d killed Angel. How could she tell them the only reason Ana had been murdered was because she knew Gena?

  “Detective Evans, please explain what you mean by you knew another victim? Why do you believe this crime is related to another case?” Delucci asked, leaning closer. With eyes narrowing in speculation, he studied the woman in front of him.

  Gena Evans was a tough cop. She’d transferred to the L.A.P.D, after a two-year stint with vice in New York, quickly rising through the ranks. She’d established herself as a well-respected and admired Detective. It wasn’t an easy feat, but one she’d managed to accomplish in the six years she’d been a Detective.

  He admired her, himself. She kept her head in tough situations and was never afraid to voice her opinion. She was also a classic workaholic. A woman completely committed to her job and one who seemed to have little time for anything else in her life. More than once he’d seen her, late at night, still sitting at her desk. She’d be pouring over every little detail of her latest case, completely engrossed.

  It was not surprising she had the biggest turnover of cases solved than anyone in her unit. He’d never seen someone so completely focused

  Gena cursed silently, seeing the speculation in Delucci’s eyes. With a drawn out sigh, she realized that sooner or later, if their cases were related, they’d need to share information with each other. Her gut told her they were, hell, the bloodied message on the wall told her; they were both looking for the same killer.

  A shiver slid down her back, one of both excitement and horror. It had been a long time since L.A had such a prolific serial killer – at least not since Ramirez or Bianchi and Buono. It was exciting to know she would take him down. Yet, at the same time, it horrified her to know she was the very reason he was killing.

  “Before I discuss this with you, you need to give me your promise that you won’t exclude me from your case nor attempt in any way to steal my cases from me. I want this son of a bitch. I need to bring this bastard down,” Gena hissed out, waiting for Delucci to nod his assent.

  She nodded in return before she took a deep breath. “I believe this case relates to Carolyn Mathers. She was a murder victim, found up on Mount Lee Drive. She’d been raped, tortured and her throat slit.” Gena leaned over and poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher sitting on the table.

  “Just like Angel?” Jase
asked, his eyes masked with emotion and his voice trembling slightly.

  Gena nodded again, touching his shoulder gently. Taking a sip of water, she continued. “She was found with a scrapbook chronicling her life. The bastard watched every move she made and captured it with photos. Then he left it at the crime scene, waiting for us to find it.”

  She shook her head, remembering how she’d felt at the crime scene. How she was positive it had been a clean scene, one completely staged.

  “We scoped the whole crime scene, Frank. It was spotless. We found no prints, no fibers, nothing to give us one clue as to who killed Carolyn Mathers. It was almost identical to Angel’s. It was almost identical to the Angel Monroe crime scene. Both shared a common theme –there was nothing to provide us with a lead to their killer. While Angel Monroe was attacked and killed in her own home, I believe Carolyn Mathers was killed elsewhere and then dumped.

  Then there’s the significance of the kills. Angel was killed and positioned to show her killer’s dominance. A Dominatrix dominated. Carolyn Mathers was dumped in plain view of the Hollywood sign. A fallen star, fallen. It’s too much of a coincidence. I’m going to hazard a guess Ana Ferrier was also positioned in a certain way, significant to how the killer perceived her. It’s his damn signature.”

  “I don’t understand,” Delucci said, still not seeing the connection.

  “Carolyn Mathers, you said?” Jase said sharply, watching Gena nod. “You’re talking about Carolyn Mathers, the Hollywood actress?”

  “Yes.” Gena said abruptly.

  “You knew her?” Delucci asked, pinning grey eyes on Jase.

  Jase shook his head. “Not me, Angel did. She showed me an old photo of Carolyn Mathers she used to have on her bedside table.”

  Gena placed her hand on Jase’s arm, interrupting him. “The photo Jase is talking about is one of Carolyn Mathers or Lyn Jeffreys as she was once called, with Angel Monroe, Stephanie Carovella and I. We all went to university together. It was taken the night of our graduation.”

  Delucci took a gulp of coffee, lowering the cup back onto the table. He studied the woman opposite him. “How does Ana Ferrier fit into all of this?” he asked curiously.

  “We met Ana in our final year of university. She is,” Gena broke off, amending her statement, “She was the drummer for the rock band Destroyer. Her boyfriend Ben is one of my closest friends, and another friend from university.”

  Jase cursed softly. “Jesus Christ, Gena,” he muttered.

  Delucci met Jase’s eyes, seeing the alarm and asked Gena quietly, “What exactly are you saying to me, Gena?”

  “The photo was found in Carolyn Mathers’ scrapbook. I think the killer put the photo there because he wanted us to know Carolyn Mathers and Angel knew each other. He wanted us to make the connection,” Gena said tiredly, taking a sip of her own drink. “More importantly Frank, I think he knew I would be the leading Detective on this case. Don’t ask me how he knew, but he did. He knew and wanted me to find the scrapbook. He wanted me to make the connection.”

  “Are you sure Carolyn Mathers is this Lyn Jeffreys?” Delucci asked, his interest peaked.

  “I knew she was as soon as I saw the photo in the scrapbook. I have the same damn photo in my house. We all do. In fact, I’m certain the photo in the scrapbook came from Angel’s house. I went back to her crime scene, and her photo of us is definitely missing.”

  Taking another deep breath, she continued, “It wasn’t until I spoke to an old friend that I knew for sure. She confirmed Carolyn Mathers and Lynn Jeffreys were one and the same. She even came downtown and identified her and, just to be completely sure, I pulled both Carolyn Mathers and Lyn Jeffreys’ dental records. They’re a perfect match.”

  Delucci muttered an oath, not liking the direction their conversation was suggesting. He looked at his notepad, scanning the notes he’d jotted down while Gena discussed the case.

  “You mentioned a Stephanie Carovella,” he began. He stopped, frowning at both Jase and Gena.

  Jase spoke before Gena could. “She’s a Journalist, Frank. She used to write for the L.A Times, before she up and quit.”

  Delucci nodded, turning his attention back to Gena when she added quickly, “She was their best crime reporter, Frank. We’re talking scarily good. She could get into serial killer’s heads like you wouldn’t believe. I used to study with her at university and she always blew me away with her knowledge and intuition. She quit and moved overseas after Dominic, her husband, died.”

  Delucci relaxed at this piece of news. “So, there’s no possible chance she could be this squirrel’s next victim?”

  Gena paled at his words. She quickly looked at Jase, seeing the same concern in his eyes. “What do you mean his next victim?” she choked out.

  Delucci shrugged. “You said it yourself. Someone is killing off your friends. If that’s the case, then she may be on his list. I guess we can say a prayer of thanks she’s safe overseas.”

  Jase and Gena silently looked at each other, making Delucci shift restlessly. “Why do I get the feeling, it’s not that simple.”

  “Frank, Stephanie Carovella was Angel’s best friend,” Jase said quietly.

  Delucci glared at them both, grinding his teeth in frustration. “And?”

  “Not only was she her best friend, but she remained close to Carolyn Mathers,” Gena whispered in dismay.

  “Are you telling me she’s here?” Delucci asked.

  “Stephanie Carovella flew back into L.A last week for Angel’s funeral. She’s been here since and I know for a fact, she won’t leave until she’s found Angel’s killer.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Stephanie curled up on the black leather couch, watching Jesse take a seat opposite her on the red loveseat. She smiled gratefully when Ben handed her a coffee before he handed one to Jesse and sank down onto the couch next to him.

  Stephanie wrapped her hands tightly around her mug, the heat of the coffee burning into her hands in an almost soothing way. “You know that Gena, Angel and I were friends from our first year of university, don’t you?” she began, deciding the only way to start was right from the beginning.

  Ben grinned impishly. “It’s hard to forget.” Rolling his eyes in exasperation, he joked, “I also remember that trying to get you alone was almost impossible. If Gena wasn’t with you then Angel was, or that other friend of yours.”

  He broke off, snapping his fingers. “What was her name, Steph?”

  “Lyn, Lyn Jeffreys,” she said quietly, speaking the name aloud.

  Ben snapped his fingers again. “That’s the one,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “She was a real quiet one, almost to the point of secretive. But get a drink into her and damn, she could get really wild.”

  Stephanie smiled. She knew her friend had always seemed reserved compared to Angel, Gena and herself, who had all seemed so wild and reckless. But once she’d had a few drinks, Lyn really opened up and showed them all another side to her. She became as wild as they were. At times, she’d been even wilder, taking it to the next level –crazy. Thinking back to how Lyn had almost got them in trouble in New York, her smile faded, remembering the extreme tactics Lyn had gone to, in an effort to prevent their arrest.

  It had been Spring Break and Gena had invited them back to New York with her. She’d wanted to show them her home town, always the proud New Yorker. They’d all gone, excited about spending their break in the Big Apple. Angel had been there before but it had been for the first time for both Stephanie and Lyn. They’d gone bar hopping, using fake I.D’s they’d bought from a friend of Gena’s brother.

  Stephanie closed her eyes, shuddering at the massive amounts of alcohol they’d consumed that night. She couldn’t recall how it had happened, but somehow Lyn had got into a fight with another girl. Before anyone could stop her, she’d hit the girl with a barstool. It had turned into an all-for-one catfight, which ended with them sitting in the back of a police car.

  They’d
all been freaked out, especially Gena who’d already decided she wanted to follow in the footsteps of her father and join the Police Academy. She knew she couldn’t risk a criminal record. It had been Lyn who convinced the two officers to let them go, which they did, after she disappeared into an interview room with them for over an hour.

  They’d never asked Lyn what she’d done to convince them not to press charges, but they’d all known.

  “Damn, that girl was wild in bed too,” Ben mused, his words breaking into her thoughts.

  She opened her eyes abruptly, an edge in her voice. “You slept with Lyn?”

  Ben nodded, whistling softly. “Once, but it was certainly memorable.” He grinned wider, recalling how Lyn had shown yet another aspect of her personality.

  ***

  Ben strummed idly on his guitar, his thoughts centered on Stephanie. He stopped strumming when a pair of bare long legs came into view.

  Looking up from his guitar, he slowly slid his gaze up the long, to the tiny pair of Daisy Dukes. His eyes slid up the womanly curves, lingering on the full breasts before he moved his eyes up to stop at pouting full lips, and then continued upwards to meet Lyn’s gaze.

  “Like what you see gorgeous?” she teased, striking a pose for him.

  He shrugged, turning his attention back to his guitar.

  “Steph told me about the breakup and I thought I’d offer my shoulder to cry on,” she said, holding up a paper bag. “Or, we could just get roaring drunk together,” she added, a wicked smile curving onto her lips.

  “Where’s Stephanie now?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

  “She’s with Dominic, of course.” Lyn said, her gaze resting on his unhappy face. Pulling a bottle of cheap champagne from the paper bag, she twisted the cork until it popped off, laughing when it spilled onto the floor. Moving into the kitchen, she grabbed two glasses and walked back into the living room.