by J N Duncan
“And only do it every thirty-six years?” Laurel chopped the vegetables on a cutting board. “That is some serious self-restraint for someone who’s snapped.”
“Yeah, I know. Very atypical pattern,” Jackie said, “but a pattern nonetheless. If this holds to form, we should have another victim very soon. Could be another child.”
“We don’t have enough to bring him in.”
“Fuck, I’m not even sure it is him. The vibe is all wrong.” Jackie stepped away and sat down on the piano bench. “Or maybe he’s just snowing us. I can’t get a read on him at all.”
“He’s one hundred seventy-six years old,” Laurel said. “He’s had a lot of practice. You want blue cheese or Italian?”
“What?”
“Dressing. What kind of dressing you want?”
“God. You made us salad?”
Laurel laughed. “Shut up. It’s your monthly intake of vegetables.”
“It’s lame is what it is. Blue cheese.” Jackie took the bowl of salad without further complaint, however, and set it on top of the piano. Laurel set hers there as well and remained standing, looking across to the picture-strewn board. “We need another angle.”
“Who killed Anderson’s family?”
“No info there,” Jackie said. “Hadn’t been caught when the article was written.”
Laurel chewed thoughtfully on a chunk of tomato. “So, you think Anderson quit being a sheriff to go after whomever it was?”
“That would be my guess.” Jackie gave in and picked up the salad, forking in a blue-cheese-slathered chunk of lettuce. “I would.”
“Okay, what if he still is?”
“Still?” She looked at the board, trying to figure what Laurel might be seeing. “Chasing a ghost? Can ghosts murder people?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Laurel said. “I was thinking more like-”
“Split personality!” Jackie stood up and pointed at Nick with her fork. “He kills them as Jekyll and then tries to catch the family killer with Hyde.”
“Actually,” Laurel said, nodding, “that might work. Psychotic break when his family was murdered, can’t find the killer, so makes it up himself in order to get revenge. Need evidence from him at a crime scene to have a shot at that one though.”
“Need to prove that penny was his somehow.”
“Which will be a bit difficult, given it was stolen,” Laurel added.
“By a ghost that you felt out at his office.”
“And we’ll prove this how?”
Jackie threw up her hands. “How the fuck would I know? You’re the ghost person, Laur. How do we deal with ghosts?”
She shrugged. “You don’t deal with them. You’re lucky if you can interact with them at all.”
“Well, that helps.” Jackie sat back down. “Maybe the ghost gave it back to Anderson?”
“Maybe,” Laurel agreed. “We can’t get a search warrant based on that though. You know no judge will accept anything supernatural. We need something concrete to link that penny to him.”
“Yeah, yeah. Technicalities.”
Laurel chuckled. “Don’t even think about going to look. Anderson won’t let you.”
“He will if he doesn’t have it or knows we won’t find it.”
“Hmmm. Does the Hyde know what the Jekyll is doing?”
“I know, it’s a stretch.” Jackie shook her head in frustration and dug back into the salad.
“Not so much. It’s a wild theory, but it works if things fall into place.”
“I prefer not to wait for someone else to die in order to find out.”
“All we can do is watch him and wait, Jackie. If he makes a move, we’ll be there.”
“And if we’re wrong, another child might be dead.”
“I know,” Laurel said. “We can only work with what we have, and we don’t have enough.”
Jackie slapped her hand down on the piano keys, creating a harsh jangle of notes. “Then we need to find it. What the hell are we missing? I’ll bet it’s right here in front of us.”
“We’ll find it. We always do.” Laurel laid a hand down on the keys by Jackie’s. “Play something. It always helps you think.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“Okay, then eat the salad. You’ve eaten crap all day.”
Jackie straightened up and laid her hands upon the keys. “You’re a pain in the ass. Any requests?”
“Nope,” Laurel said. “Just something soothing.”
Jackie flexed her fingers, popping a couple knuckles, and thought for a moment on her choice. She played for no one, except on occasion for Laurel when she insisted. Everyone else brought out the nerves, and the embarrassment of screwing up was so not worth it.
The notes for Brahms’s Lullaby rose out of the Steinway like a soft breeze, drifting with ease around the room. Laurel smiled and closed her eyes, elbows resting on top of the piano, her chin in her hands. Jackie’s teacher had told her she had a very light touch upon the keys-“quiet grace,” she had called it. At the time, Jackie had not cared. Learning to play had been the important thing, carrying out her mother’s wish to have her learn. The song was one of Laurel’s favorites and not overly complicated to play, so it was often a choice when she was over. On more than one occasion it had put her to sleep.
Frustration melted away while Jackie’s fingers roamed over the keys. Her head cleared, but no revelations were forthcoming. The missing piece still lay out there in the ether somewhere.
Laurel sighed when the last of the notes faded away to silence. “I love you when you play-I mean, it-I love it when you play. Sorry, Freudian slip there.” She gave her a sheepish smile.
Jackie smiled back, utterly unsure of what to say. The words, the thought, had been lingering in the back of her mind since Laurel had admitted her sexuality. Jackie had conveniently stashed the thought back into the recesses of her brain, but now here it was, front and center.
“I know what you meant,” she said. “You’re my one and only fan.” Did that come out right? No. It didn’t sound right at all. “What I meant was… uh… I meant…”
Laurel stood up straight and laughed. “Sorry. Awkward moment. I know it’s something that needed to be said at some point, but this isn’t exactly what I’d been thinking. It’s just been on my mind a lot since yesterday, and I wanted to get it out there and… you know, clear the air. I don’t want it to make things weird between us.”
Jackie shook her head. “No weirdness. I’m fine with it, Laur. Really. You’re my best friend and partner. You’ve saved my butt more times than I can remember. So how could I not be fine with practically anything you do or say?”
She wrung her hands together. “I know. It’s just this is kinda different.” Her shoulders slumped and her face flushed. “I didn’t want you worrying I’d try to stick my tongue down your throat or something.”
“Laur!” Jackie had finally managed to get it out of her head from before, and now it was back. “I’m truly not worried about you doing that. Really.”
“Sorry. Sorry! Shit.” Her hands covered her mouth in shock. “I didn’t mean to. I take it back. Pretend I never said it.”
Jackie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Not going to happen. Look, can we just shelve this for now? Please? I know this is, um, not how it’s supposed to work. I get that. Maybe it’ll change things, and maybe it won’t, but not now. We’ve got a case to figure out, and it’ll never happen with this stuff hovering around us. If there’s more you want to talk about, we will. I promise. Okay?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
Jackie sighed. Please just let this go for now. “All good, right?”
She nodded again. “Right.”
Jackie’s phone buzzed on top of the piano. Where had that call been two minutes ago? She picked it up. “Rutledge.”
“Hey, Jack, it’s Gamble. I’m going home. Peterson is taking over for me out here at Anderson’s, but I think he’s done for the night. Last I checke
d, he was sitting by his fireplace reading a book.”
“Figured as much,” she said. “Anything with Fontaine?”
“Um, no, but we lost track of her an hour or so ago and haven’t picked her back up yet. Apparently, she used to race motorcycles, and nobody can keep up with her.”
“Great. Thanks. Have them check in if anything comes up.”
“Will do,” he replied. “Anything on your end?”
“Besides huge amounts of frustration and lack of evidence? No.”
“Ouch. Sorry. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Later.” Jackie clicked off and set the phone down. “Back to the board. Let’s go through it all again.”
Laurel walked around to the wall. “Did I hear him say Ms. Fontaine raced motorcycles?”
“Yeah, and I’ll bet she can swing from branches with her whip and call upon the feline forces of Chicago to assist her.”
Laurel made an amused “mmm” sound, which Jackie wisely chose to ignore. “Let’s just focus on dead people and vampires for now. Much safer topics.”
Chapter 19
“Where is he, Reg?” The echo of gunfire was still ringing in Nick’s head, but the dream had been wiped away by the abrupt, cold brush of Reggie’s hand through his shoulder.
“Floor of the vault of the Woodbridge Federal Credit Union.” There was a tinge of sadness to his voice this time. “Got him laid out on a pile of pennies, boss.”
Damn. Drake was really going to rub it in this time around. “Any law enforcement there yet?” Nick turned and glanced at the bedside clock. It read 8:26 AM.
“Got called about five minutes ago, I’d guess.”
So much for an advance investigation of the scene. “Okay, see what you can find, but get out of there before Agent Carpenter shows up. I don’t want any more suspicions tossed our way now.”
Reggie rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Little late for that, if you ask me, but I’m on it. What are they looking for out here? They aren’t being very subtle.”
“Playing out the penny angle, I believe. Agent Rutledge wanted to see if I’d take some bait.”
“They would be more useful with us, boss, but I guess you already know that.”
Nick held up his hand. “I know, Reg. I can’t risk any more lives on this.”
He shrugged. “They get paid to take these risks. Should let them earn their paycheck, boss. They have resources and manpower.”
“It’s not something they are prepared to handle,” he said.
Reggie snorted. “Hell, Sheriff, it’s not something we’re prepared to handle.”
“True enough.” Nick dropped his hand. “I’ve enough blood on my hands already.”
He nodded. “Understood. They may give you no choice, you know.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, see what you can come up with. I’m tired of us chasing our tails in the dark.”
“Will do, boss.” Reggie waved. “Check in later.”
“Hey,” Nick said quickly, stopping him halfway through the wall of his bedroom. “How are you holding up? I know this has got to be hard.”
He shrugged, a wry smile crossing his face. “It’s draining me, but we’re near the end. Either way, I’m good.” He turned and vanished beyond the wall.
Nick could feel his presence glide away and then vanish through that doorway to the world of the dead.
“Either way,” Nick muttered, rubbing his hands over his face. “Either way, Reggie.”
Sleep had been spotty the night before, worried as he was about Shelby, who had continued her search until after three AM. He could tell her to abandon the search, but it was pointless now. The victim had died hours ago, and Drake would be found only if he wanted to be. The bastard had an incredible knack for staying just out of reach. With a twinge of guilt, Nick found himself wondering more about what Drake might have left behind than whom he had killed. It would indicate who the next victim might be, more specific perhaps than a simple penny had been.
Nick took the time to make a decent breakfast of ham, eggs, grits, and toast and sipped on a full cup of espresso. Next to the plate, Joshua’s penny stared mockingly up at him. It had been the last one collected, picked up on the day the new pennies had arrived at the bank. Three days before Cornelius had come sauntering into town on his brightly painted wagon. The image of Josh, grinning ear to ear as he held it up to the sun, glinting in the light, marveling at its shiny newness, was remarkably clear and painful. Funny how all the years didn’t dull memories such as those.
Finally, Nick picked up the penny, put his dishes in the dishwasher, and marched upstairs, opening the narrow door that led into the loft space over the garage. There resided the past Nick could never let go of, the memorabilia of days long gone, painstakingly arranged to provide the sharpest reminder of what had been taken from him all those decades ago. In a handmade binder, painted and decorated with stamps and postcards pasted on by Joshua with the help of his mother, Gwen, Nick turned to the last page, and in the last spot-which had remained empty these 144 years-Nick carefully slid the penny into its rightful place.
Straining his senses, Nick could almost hear their voices if he remained perfectly calm and still. His heart pounded now in his chest, and he sniffed away a tear that threatened to spill. In moments like these, Nick wanted nothing more than to just lie down and let that doorway draw him through to the end.
“Goddamn you, Cornelius. Damn you to hell.” He slammed the book shut and marched out of the room.
Chapter 20
There was another victim.
At least the call came while they were on their way downtown, allowing them to avoid some traffic and head toward the bank.
Jackie glanced at the GPS system in the dashboard after Laurel put in the address. “This bank is close to Special Investigations, isn’t it?”
Laurel nodded. “About six blocks.”
“Coincidence?”
“Doubt it.”
“Anderson isn’t dumb enough to dump the body right by his place of work,” Jackie said.
“Unless he has good reason to put it there.”
Jackie pulled her five-shot venti on ice from the cup holder and took a long draught. She needed it after last night’s endlessly frustrating picking through of Nick’s story. The key piece of information still eluded them.
She could see the flash of blue and red before they even arrived at the scene. Television vans were parked along the street. A small crowd had gathered on the sidewalk along the bank’s parking lot.
“Or someone is trying very hard to make Anderson look like a suspect,” Jackie said. She had gone to bed last night with that thought, based on a question Laurel had given. Who else could be involved and why? As much as she wanted to hold on to the idea that Nick Anderson might be a split personality, a far more disturbing notion waited in the wings. The original killer was still following Nick Anderson around.
“You didn’t want to entertain that idea last night,” Laurel said.
Jackie shrugged and swung their car up into the bank parking lot behind the flashing lights of several police cars. “Because I have no clue how we’ll find out who that is if Anderson won’t tell us.”
“I still think we should just ask him. Our info didn’t indicate who killed his family. They were never caught.”
“And for some reason, the bastard doesn’t want to clue us in.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening the car door. “Look at this mess. It’s sad that the TV crews are out here before we are.”
She closed her door and leaned on the roof, looking out at the crowd, a very different look on her face. The skin between her eyebrows crinkled down in concentration. She turned and leaned back against the car a few seconds later. “He’s not here. I don’t think anyway.”
Jackie walked off toward the bank. “Figured. Let’s go have a look.”
Inside the bank, the officer in charge of the scene was actually someone Ja
ckie knew. He was a detective from their violent crimes task force, a lean, tall black man with facial features sharp enough to hurt yourself on. She had slept with him a few years back after hooking up in a hotel bar during some law-enforcement conference. He had abs you could springboard off of.
“Detective Morgan,” Jackie said, shaking his hand. “Good to see someone familiar on the scene. This is craziness.”
“Cluster fuck is more like,” he said, frowning. “Some bozo ran down the street screaming his goddamn head off. This a fed case now?
“Think so. You got someone drained of blood?”
“In the vault there. It’s all yours, Jackie girl. I hate these freaked cases.”
She waved him off. “Coward. You have the guy who went screaming down the street?”
“Yeah, somewhere. I’ll make sure he sticks around.”
“Thanks. You’re on the task force, Morgan, so we’ll be seeing you later today I expect. Let’s go have a look, Agent Carpenter.”
In the middle of the vault floor, thousands of pennies had been poured into a large pile. On top of it, a young man lay in coffinlike repose, feet crossed at the ankles, hands folded over his chest. He looked peaceful. The gentle smile on his face gave her the uneasy feeling that he was glad to be dead. Jackie knelt down next to the pile, surveying the body. Her finger trembled slightly as it pointed at the body’s hands.
“Care to take a guess at how old our vic is here?”
Laurel nodded. “Fifteen.”
She had no doubts now. Two down and three to go, which meant that soon a little eight-year-old girl was going to fall into the hands of this monster.
“Look, Laur. Same ligature marks on the wrists. Zip ties.”
“Yeah,” she said, her voice hoarse and quiet. “Same sense of evil, too.”
The forensics team was coming in then, the toolboxes in hand. Jackie stood up and nodded to Mike Leavy, who led their group of micro snoopers. “Mike, you let me know if you find anything odd on the body.”
“Like?”
“No clue. Last vic had a collectible penny under him. Just keep an eye out, okay?”