by Rick Mofina
They moved to the laundry room-“All the appliances are included”-then to the family room. It opened to the patio and a view of the hills. They stepped back outside and Meadows leaned against his picnic table and folded his arms across his chest.
“It’s a good house. It’s a good neighborhood, a quiet family neighborhood,” he said as he contemplated the horizon. “Sorry, the agent’s better at showing the place. I’m not much of a people person.”
“No, I imposed,” Bowen said. “May I ask why you’re selling?”
“I’m moving into a condo in San Diego, to be near my niece.”
“I guess with your wife gone and your daughter moved out, it’s more house than you need?”
Meadows looked at Bowen.
“She didn’t move out.”
Another twist of the knife.
“Sorry, but you said… I guess I got confused.”
Meadows rubbed the tension in the back of his neck as if this conversation were hurting him.
“My daughter was murdered.”
“Oh, no. I am so very sorry. I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry.”
Meadows kept his eyes on the horizon.
“It’s coming up on ten years. They never caught the guy who did it.”
“Please, you don’t have to talk about it.”
Meadows just stared at the horizon as if he were talking to it.
“The pain never leaves you. Sometimes I can feel her, see her and hear her voice. I think about where she’d be now in her life-married with her own children, our grandchildren. And not a day goes by that I don’t ache to know who killed her.”
Bowen looked at him, feeling a surreal wave roll over them.
“And what would you say to him if you had the chance?”
Meadows’s head swung to Bowen.
“Plenty, I can damn well guarantee you.”
“What would you say?”
Meadows turned back to the hills.
“Did she suffer? Did she cry out? Did she fight back? Because I sure as hell know she would. What were her last words? Then I would ask the son of a bitch why he did it. Why did he do the things he did to her? Then I would ask God to make certain he burns for all time.” Meadows let a long moment pass while he blinked at the sky. “Listen, I apologize for going on like that.”
“No, it’s okay.”
They were interrupted when Meadows’s home phone rang.
“Excuse me,” he said, and stepped into the house to answer it. Alone on the patio Bowen heard his muffled voice. “Yes… Who?… Reporter?… All right, but you caught me at a bad time. Can I call right back?”
Meadows returned bringing an apology with him for the call and indicating the tour had ended.
“I guess that’s about all I can tell you about the house,” he told Bowen. “The agent’s contact information is on the sheet I gave you. So if you’re serious about an offer, get in touch with her.”
Meadows escorted Bowen to the door where they shook hands. Electrified by the touch, Bowen found Meadows’s eyes and for an instant kept his hold firm.
“Thank you for this,” Bowen said. “You don’t know how much I appreciate what you’ve done.”
When he returned to his car, Bowen got behind the steering wheel and buckled up. Before he started the engine, he let his head fall back against the headrest and shut his eyes.
His heart was pounding.
16
Malibu, California
Later that evening, Claire and Robert were sitting at a patio table at a cliff-top restaurant in Malibu.
It was a long drive up along the Pacific Coast Highway but it gave them a majestic view of Point Dume’s bluffs to the north, and the Queen’s Necklace to the south. They breathed in the salty ocean air as the waves tumbled over the beach below and breezes caressed Claire’s hair.
Robert had the filet mignon. Claire had the salmon with butter sauce. They shared half a bottle of wine and the waiter, an actor with dyed blond streaks in his chestnut hair, topped their glasses as the sun set.
On the drive out they’d talked about the likelihood of becoming parents and what room would make a good nursery; schools, college and careers-“He’ll be a pro quarterback,” “She’ll be a surgeon”-before they laughed it off. Now Robert looked tired and had become a little inattentive during dinner, Claire thought as she looked back on the day.
“So your appointment with the company doctor went well?”
“Yeah, he cleared me for my next trip.”
“And how are you feeling since the accident?”
“I’m fine.”
“Is there anything on your mind you want to talk about?”
He smiled at her.
“I thought you were off the clock.”
She smiled back.
“Claire,” he said. “I’m fine. Tell me about your day.”
“My day? Let me see. What can I tell you within the perimeters of what’s legal and ethical? Well. It was very busy catching up with the backlog. And the partner of one of my patients violated his restraining order and assaulted her in our parking lot.”
“Gee-zus.”
“Yup, I had to pepper-spray him. Police took him away.”
“Was she hurt?”
“No, not physically. She was shaken up by it all.”
“And you?”
“Me? I’m all right.”
“That guy’s an asshole.”
“That sort of thing happens from time to time.” She sipped some wine, unable to wash away that niggling feeling she’d had ever since the morning. “I noticed you were up early today and when I walked by your office, it sounded like you were on the phone to somebody. Who were you talking to?”
“Oh, you’re checking up on me,” he teased, grinning.
“You betcha, buddy. You’re a local hero.”
“I couldn’t sleep. I went in there to catch up on emails when I got one from a reporter in New York. I don’t know how the press gets our information. She wanted me for a network show, insisted I phone her. I called her back and said no, I didn’t want to make any more of this thing.”
Claire looked at him.
And was her name Cynthia? Claire thought, immediately scolding herself for being silly, irrational. How long had it been since Robert even mentioned his ex-wife? As far as Claire knew he’d had no contact with her, just as she’d had no contact with Cliff. Her unease arose from the fact that recently Robert had become withdrawn. Claire had to decide if she trusted that he was not involved in a secret relationship with his ex-wife. She looked out at the coast for an answer.
“Claire?”
“So what did you do the rest of the day after your appointment?”
“Well, Detective, I puttered in the garage waiting for you. Before that, I drove around, thinking I might go to the cabin for a few days to decompress before the next trip.”
“Sounds good. While we’re on the subject of the cabin…I was thinking, maybe we should consider selling it to start a college fund. You know I love it but I don’t get the chance to go up that often. What do you think?”
“Sell the cabin for a college fund? Whoa. Aren’t we getting ahead of things?”
“But on the drive out here, you said you were open to the idea.”
“You’re serious about this?”
“I’m definitely serious about it. Are we not on the same page here? This is all about our dream to start a family.”
The air tensed.
“Robert, we start the treatment in a couple of weeks. Think of all we’ve been through up to this point. You do want us to have a baby, right?”
“Of course I do.”
“What is it with you?” Claire caught herself and lowered her voice. “Lately you’ve been preoccupied.”
“I guess I was a little more rattled by the crash than I realized.”
“No, it’s more than that. This started weeks ago before the crash. Ever since I first found Dr. LaRoy, you’ve been withdrawn. I get the
feeling that you’re keeping something from me. What’s going on?”
“I’ve been concerned by the rumors that the company might be making cuts. Then along comes the crash. Today when I was driving around, I could not stop thinking about what would have happened if I never pulled the woman and her baby from the wreck. I see images of them burning up. All of it has me a bit on edge.”
Claire looked into her wineglass and turned it slowly in circles.
What he’d said was reasonable and made sense, yet she wasn’t entirely convinced. Still, she didn’t want to push the issue.
“You’re anxious and you’ve got some post-traumatic stress going,” she said. “But I’m your wife. You have to talk to me about these things.” She reached for his hand. “I guess I still have a little fight in me from my encounter today.” Her fingers rolled over his wedding band, turning it playfully before she kissed his cheek. “Want to go home and see what we can do to relieve our stress?”
They drove amid the glittering streams of freeway traffic and the lights of L.A.
When they arrived at their home in San Marino, Robert complained that his neck muscles had stiffened. He started a hot shower to relieve his tension and invited Claire to join him as he stepped into the bathroom.
“Invitation accepted,” she said, removing her jewelry, then her clothes.
She entered the shower, welcoming the hot water and his hands all over her body. They moved to the bedroom where they made love. Afterward, Claire snuggled against Robert. Too wound up to sleep, she remembered a concern and got out of bed.
Claire still hadn’t been assured that Amber Pratt had been placed in a shelter and wanted to check her laptop for any messages there. She’d slipped on her robe, and while padding to her office, noticed something as she passed Robert’s office.
The door stood open a crack. Something was on the floor. She entered and picked up a small photograph.
Robert was smiling with his arm around a pretty woman.
The note in Robert’s handwriting on the back said “With Cyn in the mountains. Happier times.”
Claire had never seen this before. It looked as if it had fallen from a framed painting that was ever so slightly askew, as though it might’ve been hidden behind it.
She left it there, then walked out of the room.
What the hell is going on with him?
17
Downey, California
“Aren’t you getting tired of that book?” Joe Tanner, on the sofa, asked Samantha as she handed him Green Eggs and Ham and her brush.
“Dad, I told you it’s my all-time favorite book in the whole world. Sam-I-Am. Sam! Me!”
“All right, smarty-pants, turn around.” Tanner laughed.
Samantha had just come from her bath wearing her robe, slippers and smelling of soap. She stood for the ritual combing of her hair and dramatic “ouches” whenever he’d hit a tangle.
Then came story time. After the book it was bedtime, but Sam stalled.
“You know, Dad, if you wanted to have a girlfriend, it would be all right.”
“Oh, it would? And what brought this on?”
“I was talking with Aunt Kim. She was asking me what I thought if you got a new girlfriend and stuff.”
“Aunt Kim brought it up, did she?”
“We have lots of girl talks. Anyway, she said I should let you know that we think it would be all right, especially if you’re feeling lonely.”
“I tell you what-” Tanner stopped when his phone vibrated. He pulled it from his pocket and read a text from Mark Harding, the reporter.
Working on the story. Need to talk to you now about the case.
Tanner texted that he would call Harding shortly.
“Sorry, hon. I’ll tell you what. I’ll keep all this girlfriend business in mind. Now you get yourself ready for bed, pronto.”
After Sam brushed her teeth, got into her pajamas and said her prayers, Tanner tucked her in with a kiss. Then he went to his study and called the number Harding had left.
“It’s Tanner. What’s up?”
“Thanks. Listen. I’m getting pushed. We’ve got to have more on the killer’s signature.”
“No, I can’t do that because it’s something only a few detectives and the killer know.”
“My editors in New York are pressing me to give readers more detail on why you guys think the five old murders are connected.”
“Like I said, a common thread surfaced one month ago.”
“With the Bradford murder?”
“Yes, in reviewing the files we discovered an overlooked piece of evidence, a cryptic message left at the scene by the killer.”
“Was it a note? What did it say? Was it a recording, a picture? Can you give me a summary?”
“No, Mark. You’re an experienced reporter. You know we’ll do everything to ensure the integrity of our investigation. I already told you, and you can quote me, the killer wanted us to know that he’s responsible for these five murders across L.A. He’s very intelligent.”
“Yeah, I got all that. So you won’t budge on the message?”
“I can’t.”
“I’ll let New York know.”
“The link to the five murders has never been made public before.”
“Right. Thanks for the info on the relatives. We talked to them all and got photos.”
“Be sure to put in your story that anybody with information should call us. But, and this is important, we think the killer’s dead or in prison.”
“Right, Joe, I know you’re playing me.”
“Yes, but you’re getting a scoop. When will it run and where will it go?”
“In a couple of days. It’ll go to every newsroom in the country and to all of our international subscribers around the world. They’ll have the option to use it. Joe, if you get a lead from my story, I want exclusivity on it.”
“I’ll consider that but it depends on what, if anything, comes of this.”
“Thanks, gotta go.”
The call ended.
Tanner let his phone drop to his desk and massaged his temples. Getting this story out was critical for all kinds of reasons. Harding’s challenge pulled him back to the handprint with the killer’s message.
Yes, the cases were linked, but no one outside the investigation knew the details.
Tanner unlocked his desk, took out a bulging accordion file holder. Again, he went to Charlene Podden’s full lab report on the handprint and reread it.
Her analysis showed that the tips of each finger had been rolled onto the paper in a “fingerprint process.” The substance used for making the prints was human blood, but the blood used was not always the same. The left thumb impression belonged to Bonnie Bradford and was made using her blood, which was O positive.
None of the other prints belonged to Bradford. One of the remaining four prints was made in O positive blood, two were made with A positive and one was made in B positive blood.
Tanner and Zurn had gone full bore on running the four remaining mystery prints, submitting them to ViCAP, the FBI’s Violent Criminal Apprehension Program database of violent crimes, and IAFIS, the national fingerprint and criminal history system, and every regional, state and local computer repository available to them. Within days they had hits on all four and each of them pointed to an unsolved cold case within L.A. County.
The print of the left index finger belonged to Fay Lynne Millwood, 27, A positive blood. Next they identified the print from the left middle finger of Monique Louise Wilson, 30, B positive blood. The next fingerprint was from the left ring finger of Esther Fatima Lopez, 29, A positive blood. The left baby fingerprint belonged to Leeza Meadows, 21, O positive blood. The five murders were the work of one killer.
Sitting alone in his home office, Tanner stared at a page containing the haunting handprint. Five families had been destroyed by the monster who’d made it.
Tanner glanced at Becky’s framed picture. He knew what it was like to lose a part o
f your life, to have the earth under your feet crumble.
His thoughts went back to the handprint and the killer.
He couldn’t stop her killer, but this guy was different.
You better not be dead, because we’re coming for you.
18
San Marino, California
I’m probably overreacting, Claire thought as she drove to her office with lingering unease over Robert.
It had been two days since she’d come upon the snapshot of his ex-wife. Yet she’d never voiced a word about it to him, because she’d rationalized every suspicion. Their ex-spouses had been part of their lives. She had photos of Cliff somewhere. If one happened to go astray, was that a big deal? Not really. So why make the picture an issue?
Let it go.
And as far as Robert’s preoccupation went, his reasons were sound; he was anxious over rumored layoffs, and he was having a few aftershocks from the accident. He had a lot on his mind. They both did, what with parenthood on the horizon.
As for her part, Claire thought, wheeling into her space in her office parking lot, she was still a bit pumped after facing down a violent ex here some forty-eight hours ago. She gave the immediate area a quick scan as her remote key lock chirped twice.
Upon arriving inside the office, Claire greeted Alice, then settled into her routine and prepared for her first patient of the day.
Amber Pratt.
After Claire reviewed the new aspects of Amber’s file, Alice sent her in.
Amber sat on the cushioned sofa chair opposite Claire and twisted a tissue in her hands. This was her first session since her estranged partner had assaulted her and she’d moved into a shelter.
“I’m sure you’ve given your situation a lot of consideration,” Claire said.
“I want to move back to the house,” Amber said.
“You feel you’re ready?”
“I’m ready. The police and the security company checked it. They told my lawyer that they couldn’t find any signs that anyone broke in or anything.”
“That’s good.”