The Next Victim

by Jonnie Jacobs

  Kali wasn’t interested in sympathy. “What happened?” she asked again.

  “He appears to have drowned,” Erling told them.

  Both women looked at him with surprise, and he realized that when he phoned Sabrina he hadn’t given her the details of her brother’s death.

  “In his backyard swimming pool. His housekeeper found him yesterday morning. She called nine-one-one, but unfortunately it was too late.”

  “But he could swim,” Sabrina protested.

  “And the pool can’t have been large,” Kali added. “Do you think he might have had a heart attack?”

  “It’s possible. Or maybe he slipped and hit his head. We won’t know for sure until after the autopsy this afternoon. He was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, so best guess is that he fell in.” Erling paused. “Preliminary tests show a high concentration of both alcohol and drugs in his system.”

  Sabrina looked as though she’d been struck. She glanced quickly at her sister, whose composed expression didn’t change.

  “We found a plastic baggie of Xanax on the bathroom counter,” Erling continued.

  At this, Kali’s eyes widened. “A baggie?”

  Erling nodded. “It’s the way street drugs are often sold.”

  “We know your brother went through rehab at least once before,” Michelle added.

  “That was fast,” Kali said. “I’m surprised you even thought to look into it.”

  Erling shrugged. They only knew about O’Brien’s prior addiction because they’d pulled up his records in connection with their investigation of Sloane’s homicide.

  “We’ll get a copy of the accident report?” Kali asked.

  “That can be arranged if you’d like.”

  “We’ll need to get contact information from you,” Michelle added. “And there are some forms you’ll need to fill out for release of the body.”

  Sabrina continued to wipe at her eyes, while Kali sat rigidly in her chair, forearms resting on the table.

  Erling hesitated, then plunged on. “When was the last time either of you talked with your brother?”

  “I saw him a couple of weeks ago,” Sabrina said, wadding a tissue in her clenched fingers. “He came for dinner. And we had a brief phone conversation last weekend. Why?”

  “What about you?” Erling asked Kali.

  “I haven’t actually talked with him in months, but he called last week while I was out of town.”

  “Did you speak with him?”

  She took a moment before answering. “We never had a conversation, if that’s what you mean. I called him back Tuesday night when I returned from my trip, but he was . . . he couldn’t talk right then. I told him I’d call him the next day, but before I could, Sabrina called me with the bad news.”

  Kali looked at her sister, then back to Erling. “Why is it relevant when I last talked to him? Is there something about the accident that—”

  “No,” Erling said. “Not about the accident. I’m wondering, though . . . He tried to read their faces. Did they know John had been under scrutiny as a possible killer? “It’s about the other matter,” he said finally.

  “What other matter?” The sisters spoke in unison. He could tell that neither of them had any idea.

  There was no delicate way to break the news. “Your brother was our prime suspect in the recent shooting death of two women.”

  Kali appeared dumbfounded.

  Sabrina paled. “Are you talking about Sloane Winslow?”

  “Who?” Kali turned to her sister. “You knew about this?”

  Erling repeated the question, mildly miffed that Kali had beaten him to it. “John told you he was a suspect?”

  “Nothing like that,” Sabrina said, growing agitated. Her hands fluttered to her neck and her voice sounded strained. “But I knew Sloane had been murdered.” She glanced at Kali. “I heard it on the news. And John called and told me she’d died. But I never thought . . . I mean . . . I know John knew her and all . . . but—”

  “What made you think John might be a suspect?” Kali asked Erling, cutting her sister off midsentence.

  “His name surfaced almost immediately. He and Sloane Winslow were locked into a power struggle at work,” Erling explained. “They were seen arguing the night of the murder. And a witness reported seeing a Porsche at the Winslow home the night of the crime. The description matches your brother’s car.”

  “Did this witness see the driver? Get a license plate?”

  Erling shook his head. “But the car he saw had a broken right taillight, as did your brother’s.”

  Kali squared her shoulders. “That’s it?”

  “Your brother claimed he was home alone at ten o’clock Tuesday night last week, but we’ve got a gas station receipt that says he was out. There were shoe prints along the side of the Winslow house. Size and sole pattern matches a pair your brother had. John owned a twelve-gauge shotgun, same as the murder weapon. He had a box of Winchester number-four shot. And there was gunpowder residue on a shirt of his.”

  Sabrina shook her head in disbelief. “There must be some mistake. John wouldn’t do something like that.”

  “I understand this might not sound like the brother you knew,” Michelle said sympathetically, “but we have to look at facts.”

  Both sisters appeared dazed. But whereas Sabrina’s emotions played out on the surface—a deep flush spread across her cheeks and tears welled in her eyes—Kali’s appeared to be under tight control. Despite the set mouth and closed expression, Erling sensed that she was rattled.

  “When will you be releasing John’s body?” Kali asked.

  “Later this afternoon.” Erling wrote the number of the medical examiner’s office on the back of his card and handed it to Kali. “You can call directly or have the mortuary call.”

  She nodded and put the card in her purse, then rose.

  Sabrina’s arms were wrapped across her chest; her shoulders trembled. She followed Kali in getting to her feet, but her movements were jerky and uncertain.

  “I’m sorry,” Michelle said again as they were leaving the room. “I know this has got to have been a shock.” She followed the women to show them out.

  When they’d gone, Erling closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Part of him would have liked to see John O’Brien fry for murder. But another part of him—a bigger part—was relieved that the investigation could be wrapped up quickly without Erling’s own involvement coming to light.

  He wondered, not for the first time, if Sloane had told anyone about their affair.

  Chapter 7

  Kali stomped up the stairs of the parking garage. Her stomach was churning and her pulse pounding in her ears. She felt as though she’d been tossed in the waves of a heavy storm and was still having trouble finding solid ground.

  Could John truly have killed two women?

  “Slow down, will you?” Sabrina, several paces behind, was gasping for breath. “Kali, please. We need to talk about this.”

  “What’s to talk about? You heard the detectives.”

  “That John was a suspect in those murders, you mean?”

  “Not just a suspect. Their prime suspect.” The detective’s words had been like a punch in Kali’s gut. She was still feeling the pain.

  “You don’t honestly believe he did it, do you?”

  “They didn’t pick his name out of a hat, Sabrina. There are reasons they focused on him.” Kali slowed to allow her sister to catch up.

  “They can’t prove it was him. There could be other explanations.”

  “But if you look at it all together—”

  “John couldn’t have done it,” Sabrina protested. “He’s not that kind of person.”

  That kind of person. As if all killers came from the same mold. Kali had enough experience on both the defense and prosecution sides to know that wasn’t so.

  “He could have,” Kali said. “You know as well as I do what a hothead he could be. Not to mention how damn self-centered.�
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  Sabrina looked as though she’d been struck. “How can you say such things about your own brother? Especially now, when he’s dead.” She could barely choke out the words. Tears were streaming down her face.

  “Because it’s the truth,” Kali told her. But she’d vented most of her anger and now felt a hollowness in its place. The notion of John as a murderer didn’t sit any better with her than it did with Sabrina.

  When they reached Sabrina’s Ford Explorer, Kali asked, “You want me to drive?”

  Sabrina wiped her eyes and handed Kali the keys. “You never gave him a chance,” she said softly. “You think you’re so much better than everyone else, you don’t give anyone a chance.”

  “Oh, please.” Kali opened the driver’s-side door and climbed in.

  Never gave him a chance, indeed. Kali was the youngest of the three. As a girl she’d idolized her older brother and longed for his attention. But John couldn’t be bothered. She was an annoyance he did his best to ignore unless it was to tease her or ridicule her in some way. To be fair, her parents shared some of the blame. In their minds, he could do no wrong.

  When their mother died, Kali had looked in vain to John for the emotional support she didn’t get from her father, who preferred staring at the television and downing liberal amounts of alcohol to consoling his daughters. Sabrina, with her multitude of friends and boyfriends, had found support elsewhere, but Kali had no one.

  When their father died years later, John was again unavailable. He hadn’t even come home for the funeral. Kali had tried for many years to build a relationship with John. She thought of the phone calls he never returned, the cards and notes he never acknowledged, the e-mails he ignored. John didn’t have time for her; he was too busy looking out for John.

  “He never gave a damn about anybody but himself,” Kali said. “Even growing up.”

  “You think you were the only one who had a hard time in our family?” Sabrina shot back. “It wasn’t easy for me, or for John, either. Especially John. He was the oldest, the only boy. Nothing he did was ever good enough.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  “You know what your problem is?” Sabrina asked, slamming the passenger-side door. “You’re inflexible. You expect everyone to be like you and do things your way”

  “My problem? I thought we were talking about John.” But Sabrina’s words struck a chord. Several boyfriends, including Bryce, had told her the same thing.

  “Don’t you feel anything, Kali?”

  She’d heard that before, too. “Of course,” she countered angrily. “It’s awful that John’s dead. I feel wretched about it. And I’m sad and upset that he was a murder suspect. What do you think I am, anyway?”

  “The Tin Man, maybe. Only he at least knew he didn’t have a heart.”

  “That’s so unfair—”

  Sabrina seemed to have shocked even herself. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that I’m so . . . so mixed up, I guess. And it hurts so much.”

  Kali felt tears prick her own eyes. It did hurt, though she’d been trying to convince herself it didn’t. She closed her eyes, hoping to stem the tide of sorrow. But it bubbled inside her, along with anger and guilt.

  “I loved John,” Sabrina said softly. “Even if I sometimes wanted to wring his neck.” She paused. “Just like I love you.”

  Kali wiped her eye with the heel of her hand. “In spite of all the times you want to wring my neck?”

  Sabrina managed a weak smile. “Yeah.”

  “I love you, too, you know.” Kali didn’t bother with the qualifiers. They both knew how often she was exasperated with her sister.

  “Yeah,” Sabrina said. “I do know that.”

  For now, peace. If past experience was any guide, it wouldn’t last forever. Maybe not even the rest of the day. But Kali was suddenly grateful for the chance to bury the tension, however temporarily. She realized, with a fresh pang of grief, that she’d never have that opportunity with her brother.

  Kali started the engine. “You still want to stay at John’s?” They’d decided on the phone that it made sense to stay there rather than a hotel, but now Kali wasn’t sure it was such a good idea. Maybe it was too soon.

  “We have to deal with the house at some point,” Sabrina pointed out.

  Kali nodded in agreement, though she was sure neither of them was up to doing anything about it tonight.

  “And not staying there,” Sabrina added, “that would be like . . . like avoiding John.”

  Not altogether a bad idea at the moment, Kali thought.

  “I think he’d like it,” Sabrina continued. “We’re family. It feels right.”

  Kali remembered cleaning out the family home after her father’s death, and the things she’d come to understand about both of her parents. Maybe by staying at John’s she’d come to feel closer to him, too.

  “Okay, tell me how to get there.”

  John’s house, north of the city, was a Sante Fe-style stucco with a spectacular view of the Catalina Mountains. The broad wall of glass with the red-orange sun reflecting on the mountains beyond was the first thing Kali noticed when she stepped through the door. She set her purse and suitcase down in the entry and wandered through the main part of the house.

  A large room of living and dining space with floor-to-ceiling windows opened onto the yard at the rear of the house. The floors were a mix of Spanish tile and random-plank maple. Combined with the natural log beams, a kiva-style fireplace, and neutral- tone plaster walls, the effect was lovely. It was a house that was both luxurious and comfortable, and not at all what Kali had expected. The furnishings, on the other hand, were exactly what she’d envisioned for John—basic. John’s basics. The living room held nothing but a buttery-soft leather sectional, a glossy ebony- color coffee table, what looked to be a forty-inch plasma flat-screen television, and a state-of-the-art sound system. The dining table and chairs were sleek and modem and didn’t, to Kali’s eye, fit with the style of the house. The walls were bare. So were the kitchen counters except for a coffeemaker. The appliances, she noticed, were all upper end.

  “Don’t worry,” Sabrina said, reading Kali’s expression, “the bedrooms are furnished.”

  “It’s too bad he did so little with it. It’s a beautiful home.”

  “And a good investment. That was John’s primary concern.”

  Sabrina made her way to the kitchen with the ease of someone in familiar space. She paused long enough to turn on the ceiling fan, even though Kali found the house chilly. Coming from the Bay Area, she wasn’t used to air-conditioned interiors and always felt like she was walking into a refrigerator when she entered them.

  They’d decided to stop for food on the way to John’s. By unspoken accord, they’d ignored a large Logan Foods market, stopping instead at a Basha’s, where they picked up corn chips, salsa, deli salads, and a roasted chicken. As well as vodka and wine. Although it was not yet five, Sabrina made herself a stiff drink.

  What the hell? If there was ever a day that called for an early drink, this was it. Kali opened a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass.

  “I can’t believe he’s really gone,” Sabrina said, taking a long, slow sip of her vodka and tonic. “It’s so . . . random. One minute he’s alive, maybe watching television or walking around the house, and the next minute everything’s changed.”

  Kali tried to envision their last phone call from John’s perspective. It had been only hours before his death. “If only he’d had the sense not to mix pills and booze. You’d think he’d know better.”

  Sabrina nodded. “I thought he was past that. I mean, after the experience he had getting off pain medications and all. But”—she lifted her vodka tonic—”I guess I understand the appeal of escape, too.”

  “Being accused of murder would be something to escape from, all right.” Had John already taken a bunch of pills when she’d called that night? Or was Kali’s unwillingness to talk to him part
of what pushed him over the edge? Suddenly, she felt the house closing in on her.

  “Let’s take our drinks outside,” she said.

  “Are you crazy? It must be ninety-five degrees out there.”

  Kali’s own deck in the Bay Area was often shrouded in fog by evening, so the idea of a warm evening appealed to her. But she opened the patio door to a blast of air so hot and dry it was like stepping into an oven. Reluctantly, she joined Sabrina on the sectional in the living room.

  “I told you it was too hot out there,” Sabrina said, then added wistfully, “John was talking about having a misting system installed. We have one at home and it really helps.”

  Although it shouldn’t have come as a surprise, Kali felt a pinch of envy that her siblings were closer to each other than to her. Sure, she talked to Sabrina every month or so, but she didn’t really know much about the day-to-day activities of her sister’s life. And her rare conversations with John were stiff and awkward. John and Sabrina were connected; she had been the odd one out.

  “Did you and John see a lot of each other?” Kali asked.

  Sabrina made a fluttering, so-so motion with her free hand. “Sometimes I’d drive down and we’d go to lunch. More often, he’d come for dinner or hang out and spend time with the kids.”

  Uncle John. Kali had never considered her brother in that light. She was struck once again by how out of touch she’d been.

  “They adored him,” Sabrina added. “Probably because he spoiled them rotten.”

  Her sister’s three boys ranged in age from twelve to seventeen. Kali sent presents on birthdays and Christmas, and greeting cards on special holidays, but she saw them at most a couple of times a year.

  “How are they doing?” Kali asked.

  Sabrina brushed away tears. “I haven’t told them yet. They’ll be devastated.”

  Would they have felt the same if something had happened to her? Kali wondered. Maybe John wasn’t as selfish as she’d imagined. “What did you and John talk about?”

  Sabrina gave her a puzzled look. “Whatever came up. It’s not like we sat around and debated theories of evolution or anything, if that’s what you mean.”