Desperate Girls

by Laura Griffin

  Erik glanced down the hall. Brynn was still on the phone, but the door was open, so he figured she’d at least be dressed.

  He went into her bedroom—the room he’d been in just before dawn today. All the lights were on now, and the room smelled like Brynn right after a shower.

  She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, fully dressed, hair in soft waves around her shoulders. She had a mascara brush in her hand and her cell phone perched on the counter.

  “Can we prove who bought the plane ticket?” she was asking. She caught Erik’s eye and didn’t seem surprised to see him there. He walked over and leaned against the doorframe.

  “Bulldog’s working on it,” Reggie said over the phone.

  “Because I’d really love to nail the guy.”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  Brynn looked Erik up and down, and something in her expression made his pulse pick up. Or maybe it was her clothes. She was in jeans and a tight black T-shirt. No heels, just bare feet.

  “But Perez isn’t the reason I’m calling, Brynn.”

  “What is?” She leaned closer to the mirror and did her thing with the mascara.

  “I hear that Judge Linden knew Jen. Under the circumstances, you could probably persuade him to give you a two-day recess.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Because one of the defendant’s lawyers is in the hospital, and the other one’s under threat of assassination.”

  Brynn leaned back and surveyed her reflection. “I don’t want a recess. I’m ready now.”

  “You’re a nervous wreck.”

  “Bullshit. I’m ready, Reggie.”

  “If you’re not nervous, you should be. I would be, if I were in your shoes.”

  “Well, you’re not me.”

  Erik sipped his water, enjoying the debate.

  “I’m not asking for a recess,” Brynn told him. “My client’s been rotting in jail for five months.”

  “He’ll be rotting a lot longer if you drop the ball this week.”

  She reached for Erik’s water and took a swig. “Who’s dropping the ball? Our star witness is here and ready to testify, thanks to Bulldog. I’ve got a world-renowned forensics expert who just flew down from New York. Momentum is shifting, Reggie, and I’m ready to do this. I don’t want delays. I want to defend my client and get him his life back.”

  “Momentum helps, but it won’t get you all the way there.”

  She handed back the water bottle. “Reggie, come on. We both know this case reeks. It’s rotten to the core. Even Conlon knows it. He realizes he could lose.”

  “You’re under stress, Brynn. Which means you may not be seeing this clearly.”

  “No, I am. I’ve seen the jurors, and you haven’t. They don’t like Conlon. He’s coming off as smarmy and overconfident. They think he’s a snake-oil salesman, and they’re waiting for me to prove them right. These jurors are looking for reasonable doubt, and I’m going to give it to them.”

  Reggie didn’t respond. Brynn looked at the phone. Then she looked at Erik.

  “Reggie?”

  “I’m here. It’s your call, but you know where I stand.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Call me tomorrow.”

  Brynn disconnected and huffed out a breath. “Lawyers! They’re so damn argumentative.”

  “You look nice,” Eric said. “Where are we going?”

  “To pick up Emilio’s. I feel bad about forgetting my order last night, and I want to make it up to them.” She squeezed through the doorway, brushing her body against his.

  “Why are you all dressed up to go get takeout?”

  “This is not dressed up,” she informed him, sliding her feet into heeled sandals. “But yes, we do have another stop to make.”

  “Where?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “This isn’t a game, Brynn.”

  “Fine, but you’re not talking me out of this. I’m done standing on the sidelines.”

  LINDSEY PACED the conference room, her body vibrating from an overload of sugar and caffeine and adrenaline. The sugar came from the candy bar she’d eaten for dinner. The caffeine came from three cups of coffee. And the adrenaline came from the unshakable certainty that she’d just handed the marshals a major break in the case.

  Calm down, she told herself. Keep working. Break or no, she couldn’t let up until Corby was actually in custody. She stopped pacing and stared at the timeline tacked to the wall. There were still too many blanks, and she needed to fill in the gaps.

  A knock sounded at the door, and Dillon leaned his head in.

  “You’ve got visitors. They say you’re expecting them?”

  “Yeah, send them in.”

  Dillon stepped back to let Brynn into the room. His gaze lingered on her ass while Brynn’s bodyguard gave him an icy stare.

  “Thanks for meeting us,” Brynn said, taking a chair at the table. Erik took the one beside her, watching the door as Dillon closed it.

  “You’re working late,” Brynn said.

  Lindsey sank into a chair across from them. “I’ve been here all weekend.”

  “Alone?”

  “For the most part.”

  It was an interesting phenomenon that Lindsey should have expected. With every day that ticked by, she spent more and more time on this case, and her colleagues spent less. Max had practically disappeared, and so had the other detective.

  “You know, each day Corby eludes capture, we look more incompetent,” Lindsey said. “I think everyone here wants to distance themselves, let the marshals go down in flames for this.”

  Brynn stood up and walked to the bulletin board, where crime-scene photos were arranged in clusters. She zeroed in on several photos of Corby’s fourth victim, Lauren Tull.

  “I remember these,” she murmured.

  “From the trial?”

  “These two were on her Facebook page. We used them in a trial exhibit.”

  Lindsey could see why they’d selected the pictures. Besides showing the victim in life, with a dazzling smile on her face, they also showed her wearing the necklace that was later recovered from Corby’s house.

  “I’ve been pursuing your theory about the necklace being planted,” Brynn said. “I went back through my trial notes and found some evidence that makes me think you’re right.”

  Lindsey felt a wave of relief. For the first time since she’d come up with this idea, she had some support. “What have you got?”

  Brynn returned to her chair. “We had some issues with the necklace from the beginning. Jen and I did. For one thing, there’s no crime-scene photo of the necklace in situ at Corby’s house.”

  “No?”

  “This came out in deposition. Detective McGowan, who was the lead, said the necklace was discovered in the inside pocket of a canvas jacket found in Corby’s closet. The jacket is brown, so it vaguely resembles a jacket worn by someone sighted near one of the crime scenes, which is why police took it into evidence when they conducted the search warrant. We have a crime-scene photo of the jacket hanging in Corby’s closet. And McGowan said the necklace was discovered later, inside the pocket, when they were going through items in the evidence room.”

  “You think he lied?”

  “I don’t know. At the time, I thought maybe it was a simple mistake—he found the necklace in the pocket, so he vouched for the jacket. Or maybe someone found the necklace elsewhere at Corby’s place, but somehow the crime-scene photographer missed getting a picture of it.”

  “If that happened,” Lindsey said, “maybe McGowan was trying to keep that critical piece of evidence from being tossed out on a technicality, so he made up the jacket-pocket scenario, and Corby knew that was bullshit—hence his hatred for McGowan.”

  Brynn smiled thinly. “Chain of custody is hardly a ‘technicality.’ ”

  Spoken like a true defense attorney.

  “Here’s the thing,” Brynn said. “I saw Mark Wolfe again yesterday. The profiler has been
analyzing the case files, and he reached the same conclusion you did.”

  “He thinks the necklace was planted?”

  “Not only that. He takes it a step further,” Brynn said. “He believes Corby didn’t kill Lauren Tull at all.”

  Lindsey’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Wolfe found discrepancies between Lauren’s crime scene and the others, and he believes someone else killed her.”

  Brynn launched into a detailed summary of Mark’s theory. When she got to the part about fabric fibers being found on Lauren Tull’s mouth, Lindsey was puzzled. When she got to the part about the Rohypnol, Lindsey was intrigued. And by the time she reached the part about the necklace, Lindsey was speechless.

  “So Mark believes the killer staged the scene to look like the other recent murders that had been all over the news,” Brynn said. “And investigators bought it and played right into his hands when they planted that necklace at Corby’s house to beef up their case against him.”

  Lindsey watched her, absorbing everything. A notorious serial killer framed for one—but not all—of his crimes. The idea was potentially explosive.

  “What do you think?” Brynn asked. “This is the theory you came up with, just taken a step further.”

  “A big step.” She looked from Brynn to Erik. As usual, the bodyguard was silent. By Lindsey’s count, he’d said zero words since stepping in here. “To be honest, this sounds like something a defense attorney would cook up. No offense to you.”

  “None taken,” Brynn said. “But I didn’t cook this up. And the more I think back on certain aspects of the case, the more I believe this idea has merit.”

  “And why didn’t Corby’s attorney come up with it?”

  “I couldn’t tell you,” Brynn said. “But the guy’s a public defender, and he hasn’t exactly set the world on fire, career-wise. Jen and I rolled over him at trial. Also, there was so much other evidence against Corby—the first victim’s blood on his boot, the media clips at his house, the fact that Corby had done work at three of the victims’ homes. The jury was looking at a mountain of evidence when they arrived at a guilty verdict.”

  “My other thought is if you’re right, if Mark is right, then Dallas PD has a problem on its hands.”

  “They’ve got a rapist and murderer roaming free,” Brynn said.

  “Correct, and his trail is ice cold at this point. They’ve also got a corruption problem.” Lindsey leaned forward. “Walk me through how you think this might have happened. How did Lauren Tull’s necklace end up at Corby’s house?” She nodded at the bulletin board where the photos were displayed. “By your own trial exhibits, it looks like Lauren wore that necklace a lot. Are you saying Mick McGowan or some investigator took it off the body? I don’t know if you’ve ever been to a murder scene, but it’s a zoo. People, vehicles, cameras everywhere. I can’t picture McGowan just reaching down and tugging a necklace off the corpse. Too risky.”

  “I agree,” Brynn said. “More likely, he—or someone—found it elsewhere in Lauren’s home. Maybe on her dresser or something. This person might have pocketed it to use later, as an insurance policy when they zeroed in on a suspect. I think he kept it and either planted it at Corby’s house or somehow got it into the evidence room.”

  Lindsey paused to think about it. “Evidence rooms—especially for a large department—are crowded and sometimes chaotic places. And people are people, so things can get lost or mishandled, either by mistake or intentionally. The reality is, it happens.” She sighed. “I’d have to see the logs from the evidence room to pin it down better.”

  “Any chance you can get a look at those?”

  “I could try. I have some contacts over there.”

  For a long moment, she and Brynn simply stared at each other. Lindsey had never expected to team up with a defense attorney on anything, and yet here they were.

  “Why is Mark analyzing this now?” Lindsey asked. “I mean, whether Corby killed Lauren Tull or not, he killed the other three. And he’s killed three more people since escaping from prison. What we should be focused on right now is how to locate him.”

  “I’m with you,” Brynn said. “Mark thinks motive could be important in determining his next move.”

  “Tell me what you’re working on in terms of locating him,” Erik said.

  Lindsey looked at Erik, whose priorities clearly were aligned with hers. “I’m convinced Corby has someone helping him, offering him refuge. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to pull all this off.”

  “Agreed,” Erik said.

  “I got a new lead from that reporter, John Dewitt, who interviewed Corby in prison, hoping to write a book about him.”

  “That guy is helping him?” Brynn asked.

  “No. He’s in LA working for some magazine now. But I wanted to see what he could tell me about the prison interviews.”

  “And what did he tell you?” Brynn asked.

  “Two interesting things. One, Corby vehemently proclaimed his innocence. Said he was set up, and the whole crooked system was out to screw him over. In light of this new theory, maybe that wasn’t all just noise. The other thing he told me, Corby had a pen pal.”

  “Who?” Erik leaned forward on his elbows.

  “Some woman named Ann Johnson—not sure of the spelling. The reporter said Corby once asked him to mail a letter to her.”

  “And he did it?” Brynn exclaimed. “That little shit.”

  “My guess is he was trying to rack up some favors with Corby to get an exclusive or something. But it may be how those letters ended up with you and the judge.”

  “I got another one this morning,” Brynn said.

  “Where?”

  “Her house,” Erik said darkly.

  “Did you share this with the marshals?”

  He nodded.

  “Back to this pen pal,” Brynn said. “Tell me her name again? And do we know her address?”

  “It’s Ann or Anne-with-an-e Johnson—not sure of the spelling. And Dewitt claims he doesn’t remember where she lives.”

  “He’s lying,” Erik said.

  “I’m inclined to agree, but what am I gonna do? It’s not like I can sweat this guy down. He’s in Los Angeles.”

  “I’ll talk to someone.”

  Someone meaning the marshals in Los Angeles? Or did he have a bodyguard friend out there? Whatever he meant, Lindsey didn’t want to know about it.

  “However she spells her name, it’s extremely common, which doesn’t help us,” Lindsey said. “There are hundreds in Texas alone. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  “Why Texas?” Brynn asked.

  “It seems logical because she probably delivered those notes to you and Jennifer Ballard. But you’re right, she could live somewhere else, such as Oklahoma or Louisiana.”

  “Run the name against owners of a black Honda,” Erik said. “That should narrow it down.”

  “We’re working on that,” Lindsey said. “The task force is doing everything possible to find this woman, because we think she’ll lead us to Corby.”

  Brynn looked at Erik, then Lindsey. “We should let you get back to work.” They stood, and Lindsey did, too. Brynn started for the door, but Erik stopped her and turned around.

  “One more thing,” he said to Lindsey. “If this necklace thing wasn’t McGowan, then you’ve got a cop out there who knows the man he framed for murder is out of prison. He’s bound to be getting nervous, and he’s not going to like it if he hears you’re digging into this.”

  “I’m aware,” Lindsey said.

  Erik pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it over. “If you’re worried about anything, call us. Day or night, we’ll get somebody on it.”

  She laughed. “You’re saying I need protection? I’m a cop, for Christ’s sake.”

  Erik nodded. “I’m saying be careful.”

  ERIK SHOWED up at Brynn’s on Sunday night and found Hayes stationed in the lobby as part of her expanded secu
rity detail.

  “She up there?” Erik asked him.

  “In the fitness center, yeah.”

  Erik took the elevator to the top floor. The lights were on in the gym, but all the treadmills were empty. Erik recognized the tall, dark shadow standing beside the pool with his back to the windows. Tactically, it was a crap position, but he had a perfect view of the water.

  Erik slipped through the glass door and stood in the darkness. The pool lights were on, and Brynn’s body was a long silhouette gliding through the turquoise glow.

  Erik walked up and clamped a hand on Trent’s shoulder, making him jump.

  “Shit, man! I didn’t hear you come out.”

  “I noticed.”

  Trent shook his head, cursing.

  “How’s the shift going?” Erik asked.

  “It’s almost over.” He checked his watch. “Only an hour.”

  “I got this. You can take off.”

  Trent glanced at the pool, looking hesitant. “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  Another look at his watch. “Skyler’s down in the control room,” Trent said. “Are you here in the morning? Liam told me to report to the hospital to help cover Ross.”

  “Hayes and I are driving Brynn to work,” Erik said. “I think she wants to stop by the hospital after, so I’ll probably see you there.”

  “Okay, later, then.”

  Erik watched him leave, then lowered himself onto the end of a lounge chair near the side of the pool. He tipped his head back to look at the half-moon peeking through the clouds, and for the first time in hours, he felt his shoulders relax. A warm breeze swept over him, and he heard the distant hum of traffic at street level.

  His gaze settled on Brynn. She did a quick flip turn and shot through the water, breaking the surface with a smooth stroke. Erik watched her, transfixed.

  Watching Brynn was becoming an obsession, and it worried him. He liked watching her in court, arguing from the lectern. He liked watching her on the treadmill. On her sofa. In her kitchen. He liked watching her in bed underneath him, her head tilted back and her skin fever-hot as she came apart.

  Maybe he was torturing himself being here, but he couldn’t not. The threat was escalating, and he wouldn’t put her safety in anyone else’s hands.