“Sure.” He picked up the card. “You did get him though, right? You have him in custody?”
There was no reason to lecture him on the law, so she just nodded and stepped away from the counter. Even though everyone was innocent until proven guilty, it was hard to pretend that the evidence wasn’t stacked up against Joshua Ravensong right now.
CHAPTER 3
Joshua watched the two boys throwing the baseball back and forth. He sat on the stairs of the porch, the screen door behind him. Jennifer had her dolls scattered over the stairs and one of them was driving a pink convertible up and down the front walkway.
“Come on, Josh. You aren’t playing right. Bring your guy over here. He can go for a ride too.”
He tore his gaze from the boys and glanced at her. She motioned to the doll dangling from his hand. He held it up and looked at it. The nose had been chewed off and one of the doll’s blue eyes had been partially rubbed away, so he looked like he was squinting. This doll was a sorry excuse for the blond doll’s boyfriend, but then the blond doll had a stripe of pink permanent marker running down the side of her hair, so he didn’t think she could be any too picky.
Jennifer waited a moment more, then began driving the convertible toward the stairs, making alarming noises. On top of the pink stripe, the blond was a reckless driver.
The boys laughed at something, drawing Joshua’s attention again, and the ball sailed through the air, smacking into James’ glove with a satisfying sound of leather on leather. They were playing in the park across the street. Adam had allowed the older boys to cross the street by themselves, so they had more room to throw the ball. Joshua’s mother hadn’t wanted him to go, not that he’d been asked either.
“Come on, put your guy in the car too, Josh.”
Joshua handed her the doll and watched as she bent its stiff legs and shoved it in the passenger seat. It got stuck halfway down, so Jennifer pushed hard on the head, denting the soft plastic. Joshua smiled, thinking the doll actually looked better with a dented head – it hid the scraped eye and bitten nose.
“Stupid, stupid man,” hissed Jennifer, trying to push the head back into shape.
Joshua bent over to help her, but the sound of a car pulling up the curb distracted him. He glanced up to see a run-down Buick roll to a stop in front of the house. The car had once been black, but the paint had oxidized to a soapy-looking grey. Across the street, he could see that James and his friend had stopped playing baseball, making Joshua wonder who drove the car.
The driver’s side door opened and a man climbed out. He had short black hair, parted in the middle and sharp cheekbones. As he leaned on the car, looking up at the house, he barely saw over the roof. He was a good deal shorter than Adam.
Joshua felt his heart stutter in his chest and he swallowed hard. He would never forget the harsh cut of those cheekbones, the wide-spaced black eyes, the sweep of dark hair winging back from a broad forehead.
“Go get your father,” he said to Jennifer, never taking his eyes from the man.
As he spoke, the man looked down and a slow smile spread across his face. His teeth were even and white, his jaw smooth shaven.
“Who’s that?” asked Jennifer without moving.
“Go get your father now,” Joshua hissed. “Please.”
She turned and studied him in bewilderment. Joshua thought to bolt inside himself, but he didn’t want to leave her out here alone.
“Jennifer…” he pleaded.
“Come here, boy!” shouted the man, then he motioned with just the fingers of his right hand. “That’s no way to greet your father.”
Joshua pushed himself to his feet and pressed his back to the post on the porch. He clenched his teeth to stop their chattering. Jennifer was still sitting in the walkway, looking between him and the man, bewildered by both of their behavior.
“Josh, is he your father?”
Joshua tore his eyes from the man. “Go inside the house now, Jennifer. Now!”
She scrambled to her feet at the force of his tone and ran to the door, but she didn’t open it. Joshua glanced back at her, but she seemed paralyzed.
“I said come here, boy!”
Joshua whipped back around. The man had made it to the center of the walk.
“Is this where your mother lives now? Pretty nice set up, eh? I drove a long way to see you, boy, and I’m not leaving until I do.”
Joshua wanted to shout at him. He wanted to run to the house, but he couldn’t do either. His fingers gripped the post so hard, he felt wood splinters press against his hands.
The man advanced. His sneakers didn’t make any sound on the walkway, but Joshua wondered if that was because his heart was hammering so hard that he couldn’t hear anything else. He willed himself to run, but he didn’t.
The man grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt and yanked him off the stairs. He stumbled into the walkway and fell on his hands and knees. He tried to scramble up and run for the street, but the man caught him before he could get away.
“Little bastard, disrespecting me!”
The man cuffed him on the side of the head. Pain exploded in his ear and he stumbled, landing on the walkway again. He tried to get up, but the concrete was tilting at a mad angle and his head rang with noise.
“I come all this way and you ignore me.”
Joshua pressed his palms hard against the walkway, trying to force himself up, but he found his body listed sideways in an alarming way.
“Don’t you run from me, boy!”
He staggered. He wasn’t sure he was trying to run. He was just trying to find equilibrium. Something was off in his head, making his balance crazy. He stumbled and found himself landing on his side, the impact jarring his head again.
The man was shouting at him, screaming at him, then he hauled back his leg. Joshua tried to draw his knees into his chest, but he was too slow. The kick took him low in the stomach and pain exploded in his lower back. He tried to crawl away, but the pain was like a weight in the center of him and he had a crazy thought that the man might have kicked him in two.
He heard someone screaming and then a body launched over the top of him, slamming into the man and knocking him backward. Something was definitely broken in his head because it looked like James had landed on the man and had turned into a whirling mass of swinging fists and kicking feet.
The door on the house flew open and Adam loomed in the doorway, lunging down the stairs. The man pulled himself free of James and ran for his car. Joshua was sure Adam would follow him, but he dropped beside Joshua and placed his huge hand on his forehead.
Joshua flinched, but Adam just stroked Joshua’s hair. “It’s all right, son. Mary, call an ambulance!”
He heard running feet, then the screen door on the house banged shut. In the distance, he heard a car peel away.
“You okay, James.”
“Fine, Dad. Will Joshua be okay?”
Adam looked down into Joshua’s watering eyes. “He’ll be fine. He’ll be just as good as new in a few days.”
Joshua didn’t want to cry. He wanted to be as brave as James had been, but he hurt so bad, he couldn’t help it. And he wanted his mother. Before the thought finished itself, she was there, covering him with a blanket and bending over him, folding her body around him as if that would be enough to protect him from harm.
* * *
The precinct had two interrogation rooms, but they mainly used the larger one. Jake had never been in this one. It was tucked in a back corner of the precinct, closest to the elevator that would take perps down to the holding cells in the basement.
A long conference table dominated the back wall and Jake took a seat on it, his feet dangling off the edge. He’d seen two dead bodies since breakfast and although he was getting used to the horrible things people did to each other, it still made him feel tired. Peyton stood at the one way mirror with her back to him, reading from a sheet of paper. He studied the wild tangle of curls at the end of her ponytail
and wondered how much longer she would be able to handle this level of depravity. Marco leaned on the other end of Jake’s table, closest to the door, his arms crossed in front of him as he stared at the man in the other room. Jake didn’t think he expected anything more of humans than what he saw every day. He looked at each perp with the same resigned disgust, including the handsome one sitting on the other side of the glass right now.
Joshua Ravensong sat in a metal chair, facing the mirror. His hands were resting on his thighs. The blood was gone, but drops of it stained his jeans. His right hand was visibly swollen, the skin broken over the knuckles and beginning to darken with bruises. In front of him was a small metal table, which he seemed to be staring at with an intensity that bordered on madness. Jake had done the breathalyzer himself, so he knew he wasn’t drunk. They’d taken urine and blood samples when he arrived, but they didn’t have the result of those yet. Jake was certain, however, that they would turn up something more potent than booze.
Stan Neumann from Tech had processed the text messages from Ravensong’s cell phone. Peyton was reviewing them now. Based on snippets she shared, Jake knew they didn’t help Ravensong’s case any.
The captain entered the room. “D’Angelo, Ryder,” she said.
“Captain,” they both responded.
Defino moved to Peyton’s side. Katherine Defino was an inch or two shorter than Jake with a brown bob and a perpetual squint. She always looked like she was half pissed off. It had intimidated him at first, but he knew she was fair-minded and she’d given him a chance when no one else would, well, no one but Peyton.
Peyton handed her the paper and she read it over. Then she made a tsking noise and looked up through the window. “Damn, I hate this.”
“I know,” said Peyton. “I hate it too.”
Defino turned toward Peyton, motioning at the window with the paper. “You know, Colin and I had our first date at an Avalanche concert. We almost didn’t have our second. Colin accused me of being more interested in the lead singer than him.” She leaned closer to Peyton. “He was right. No way any woman could see him strutting on stage and hear that voice, and not get all hot and bothered.”
Peyton smiled and nodded at the mirror. “He was my first crush. I followed him when he was with his first band, Blazes. I’d listen to his voice and stare at his poster and my heart would ache.”
Jake rolled his eyes.
“He really is the prettiest man I’ve ever seen,” said Defino, looking through the mirror again.
“Yes, he is. Absolutely gorgeous.”
Jake was flabbergasted. “Are you kidding me? What about Adonis over here? He’s gorgeous.”
Both Peyton and Defino turned and stared at him. Marco looked over, one dark brow lifting in question.
“Well, it’s true,” Jake protested, turning to Marco for help. “Isn’t it?”
“I’m with you, son. The guy’s clearly on something.”
Jake pointed at the mirror. “He just bashed someone’s head in and you’re both going on like lovesick school girls. He’s a murderer, not some pinup.”
“Funny how quickly you forget what it’s like to be on the other side of that window, Jake,” scolded Peyton.
“Mmhmm,” added Defino.
Jake felt his face color, but he ignored it. “This is the easiest case we’ve had in months and we could be wrapping it up, but you’re sitting here ogling him like a piece of meat.”
A smile touched the corners of Peyton’s mouth and she leaned her shoulder against the captain’s. Jake recognized the look. “Isn’t it cute how they get six months under their belt on the force and they think they know everything?”
“It sure is. Cuter still when they spout off all this moral outrage over sexual equality.”
Jake shook his head and looked to Marco.
He simply shrugged. “What you gonna do? Women never take us seriously. We’re just playthings for them.”
Jake glared at him. He wasn’t helping.
“How are you going to handle this?” Defino asked Peyton.
Peyton took the text messages back from her. “I’m not sure I’ll get much out of him. He’s said only five or six words since we arrested him, but I’ll give it a try.”
“We need to find out where that little girl is. That’s priority one.”
“Got it.” Peyton moved toward the door, but she stopped and glanced back at Jake. “By the way, I never ogle.”
Jake shook his head, but he couldn’t help the smile that teased at his lips. He couldn’t stay pissed at her no matter what, and she knew it.
* * *
As Peyton entered the interrogation room, Joshua Ravensong lifted his head. The look on his face stopped her. For a moment, he didn’t seem to recognize her.
“I’m Inspector Brooks,” she reminded him.
He leaned back in the chair, his right hand resting on his thigh. She could see how swollen the knuckles were, the skin abraded and raw. Leather armbands wrapped around both wrists, held shut with metal buckles. They would have to take those away from him.
She moved to the chair at the end of the table, diagonal from him, and sat down, placing the paper with the text messages on it. “I need to know where your daughter is, Joshua.” She figured using his first name might put him at ease, make it easier for him to confide in her.
“My daughter?”
“Yes, it’s important.”
He flexed the swollen fingers on his right hand. “She’s with Elena.”
“Elena?”
He narrowed his eyes on her. They were so dark, she had trouble telling if his pupils were dilated or not. They’d have to rely on the drug test for confirmation. “Elena Harris, my…” He paused and sighed. “My partner.”
“Your partner?”
“She thinks it’s stupid for grown people to have boyfriends and girlfriends.” He lifted his left hand as if he would massage his wounded fingers, then stopped.
“Your daughter’s with Elena?”
He nodded, staring at the table.
“Can I have her number?”
He rattled off the digits and Peyton shifted in the chair to look back at the mirror. A tap on the glass told her they got it.
Leaning forward, Ravensong braced his left arm on the table and pressed his forehead into his hand. “How am I going to tell my daughter her mother is dead?” The anguish in his voice touched Peyton.
“I can tell her.”
He didn’t move.
“It’s sort of what we do,” she added.
He canted a look at her, his expression disbelieving.
She decided not to pursue that topic any longer. “I need to know what happened, Joshua. I need you to tell me.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Peyton fingered the paper, but she wasn’t ready to use it yet. “You said your daughter’s with Elena, right?”
“Yes.”
“Are they at your house?”
He lowered his arm. “No, they went out to buy Tiffany a dress.”
“Tiffany? Your daughter?”
“Yes.”
“A dress?”
“Right. For court tomorrow.”
“Court?”
“She’s going to talk to the judge. It’s the final step to granting me full custody.”
“Why didn’t you go with them?”
“I was going for a run, then I wanted to work on some music.”
“At your house?”
He frowned at her. “Of course.”
“Where is your house?”
“Marin.”
“And yet you wound up in San Francisco?”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
Peyton leaned back in the chair. “Let’s back up a bit, all right?”
He nodded.
“You said you were getting full custody, right?”
“Right.”
“How?”
“Terry was signing custody over to me. Tiffany had been living with Elena and me for the last five months, ever since Terry’s mother died.”
“Okay, let me make sure I have this. Terry’s mother died. After that, your daughter came to live with you full time, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Terry offered to give you full custody and you were finalizing that through the court by meeting with the judge tomorrow?”
“Right.”
“Why are you meeting with the judge?”
“He wanted to interview Tiffany and make sure she wanted this change to go through. I also had to take a drug test and prove that I’m clean.”
Peyton absorbed that fact. If he was on something, he must have taken it this morning. “How old is Tiffany?”
“She turns ten in June.”
“So Terry had primary custody up until now?”
“Yes.”
“Why would she give it up now?”
“Her mother took care of Tiffany most of the time. Now that she’s gone, Terry decided she was moving to Europe. She didn’t want to uproot Tiffany.”
Peyton flattened her hand on the paper. “But this morning she changed her mind.”
Ravensong’s head came up and he gave Peyton a confused stare. “What?”
She pushed the paper forward. “We have the text messages from your phone, Joshua. Terry changed her mind about giving you full custody and told you the deal was off.”
He reached for the paper with his wounded hand and winced, but he picked it up and studied it. As he did so, she caught the raised pink scar snaking across his wrist, peeking out from beneath the leather arm band.
He lowered the paper and pushed it away. “I don’t remember this.”
Peyton wished for once that someone would just tell the truth. “You don’t remember receiving those texts or responding to them?”
“No.” He stared at the paper fixedly. “I don’t remember any of it.”
“Please understand my skepticism, Joshua. You were found at her condo, you had her blood all over you and your right hand is a mess, yet you expect me to believe that you don’t remember receiving her texts and going over to her condo to confront her?”
Murder on Russian Hill (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 3) Page 5