“Thank you,” she whispered, holding back tears that had wanted to fall as soon as she’d heard who had been killed. But now was not the time for tears. She had to put on the poker face that covered the hurt and go to work. “You are a godsend, Brendan O’Neil.”
“I beg to differ. You are the one who’s been sent to me. Thank you for a lovely evening. I’ll see you?”
“Some time tomorrow. Although I guess that today is tomorrow. You know what I mean.”
He nodded. They kissed again, each now familiar to the other, as though they’d been together for a very long time. Then she was out the door and headed to the crime scene.
She pulled up to the swirling red and blue lights, yellow tape, and the crowd of neighbors who’d been abruptly awakened by the noise. Holly felt the tension rising in her, dreading the sight ahead, and her head started pounding. This was going to get messier with each body if they didn’t wrap this up, and soon. Serial killers were not the norm in San Diego. Temperate weather, sandy beaches, and friendly attitudes were the identifying characteristics of America’s finest city. She knew by the time she made it back to work on Monday after what was to have been a relaxing weekend, that the mayor, chief of police, and whoever else had a political career invested in this city would have left a voice mail for her.
She sighed deeply before stepping out of the Jeep. Passing through the gate, she flashed her badge to the requisite rookie at the front entry. He nodded, and she slipped through the door, grateful to have avoided any reporters. At least the media hadn’t made it here. Yet. It would not be long.
Quaint, clean, sparse except for the various pieces of Native American art—from the wall paintings to the many sculptures. Her friend had never given up her love for the American Indian and all it represented to her. A twinge of guilt swirled in her gut. Lynne had talked incessantly about making a pilgrimage to the Inca and Mayan temples. Holly wondered if she ever had. She hoped so.
Holly turned the corner into the dining room where she heard voices. The splatter of blood smeared across a terracotta wall took her breath away. Terrible and violent things had happened in this house, and the smell of that violence mixed with the chemicals agents used for testing evidence brought bile to her throat. A case took on a different look when you knew the victim. It all now blurred into a gray area, but Holly needed it to be black and white; she needed to get back her focus. She took ten seconds to breathe as her yogi had taught her, and settled herself down.
“Hey, Holly. We tried Chad, but he’s gone missing too. Any ideas?” Maureen said coming up behind her.
Holly shook her head, but she was quite sure of where her partner was and why he hadn’t answered the phone. Damn him. He was busy getting laid and ignoring his phone, when all she wanted was a night of company. Just one night of soothing comfort. Well, maybe more, but she wasn’t as irresponsible as Chad. Fine, the truth was, they’d had to track her down, too. Well, it didn’t matter. She was still going to ream his ass when she saw him.
“Body is over there. No one’s moved her. Robb is taking photos now. You want a look?”
She was unable to speak, so she just nodded, trying to brace herself for what she was about to see. But there was no preparing for seeing what was left of her long-time friend. The brutalized remains of Lynne Greene lay unceremoniously—savagely—in a bloody heap on the floor. Holly cried out, “Oh my God!”
“Told you it was bad,” Maureen said. “He must be one pissed off dude. Figure he tied her up to the metal banister of the staircase. There’s the ligature marks.” She pointed to Lynne’s wrists and ankles. “Then he raped her every which way. Untied her when she was too weak to care, raped her again, then slammed her head there against the brick fireplace.” Maureen pointed to the fireplace, feet away from Lynne. “Next, he stabbed her repeatedly, then slit her throat. But I can’t tell what’s post mortem or not. I suppose Dr. Lareby will fill us in on that.”
“What is wrong with this fuck?” She said the words loud enough that a group of officers turned and looked. Every fiber in her stung with pain at what lay before her. Totally incomprehensible—totally.
Holly wanted to scream.
She tried to gather herself.
Maureen put an arm around her. “You okay, kid? I’ve never seen or heard you act like this before during an investigation.”
“I’m sorry. I’m a little shaky, that’s all. It’s 3:30 in the morning, and I’m tired. I didn’t expect to be woken up to have to deal with something like this.”
Maureen nodded, but Holly knew by the look in her colleague’s eyes that she wasn’t buying it, and who could blame her? Holly was known for her calm exterior, her cool, austere mode of operating, not one to be easily shaken. She had to get it together and work this case. If she let Maureen know that she’d been friends with Lynne and Kristy, it wouldn’t be long before she was pulled from the case, and that was the last thing she wanted.
Staring down at the body of her mangled friend, knowing she had suffered hell at the hands of a madman, Holly reaffirmed her will to get this bastard.
“So the child has been taken to Children’s?”
Maureen glanced down at her watch. “A couple of hours ago.”
“Have you heard anything?”
“Nope. If you want to check in, I sent Fulsom over with her. She’s a good cop, good with kids, just in case she wakes up. But I’ve got to tell you, Holly, I have my doubts the kid will ever wake up, if she even makes it through the night.”
The last time Holly had seen Kristy was years ago, when she was only a three-year-old toddler with eyes as bright and happy as sunshine, with a smile to match.
Holly cringed at Maureen’s assessment of Kristy’s chances. She couldn’t help but look back at Lynne, her face so badly beaten it was barely recognizable. Horribly black and blue. A deep purple had set in where the blood had pooled.
Why had she let their friendship die? Jack’s face came to mind. She shoved the thought away, angry with him now for not only dying on her, but also for keeping her from a friend over these many years. He had complained constantly that the two women spent too much time together. She’d chosen not to tell him to shove it up his ass, although she definitely should have. A wave of guilt swept over her at the thought. Even if she had, would Lynne still be alive? Would Kristy be at home right now, sleeping in her bed, dreaming about whatever it was girls her age dream about these days?
She brought herself up short, returning from the past to the present. Holly knew that if she didn’t get this vicious killer, he’d continue on his path of slaughtering innocents, forcing too many family members and friends to think in the same terms she now was—in pasts, presents, futures, woulda’s, shoulda’s, and coulda’s. It was too late now for Holly with Lynne. Way too late.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Before heading home to relieve Brendan of his brood of girls, Holly continued carefully working the crime scene. It was work that made her sick, but also work that fueled her rage and her conviction to stop this bastard. When she had done all that she could do at the scene, she went straight to the hospital. She had to see for herself how badly Kristy had been hurt.
On her drive over, she had a vivid memory of Kristy as a three-year-old playing with her new Big Wheel. It had been the week between Christmas and New Year’s. Things were already on the rocky side in Lynne’s marriage, but against Jack’s advice, Holly went to visit Lynne and Kristy anyway. At that time, Holly didn’t give a rat’s ass about fraternity brothers and the bonds they’d made. The truth was that she’d formed a bond with Lynne and had no intention of breaking it. God! She wished that she’d had more backbone then. She should have told Jack to screw himself and to stay out of it.
She let herself in to Lynne’s house. “Hey? Lynne? Where are you?”
Lynne came in from the family room. “Oh, hi! Come here, you’ve got to see this.” She grabbed Holly’s hand and led her to the back yard. Kristy was on the patio making motor noises and go
ing around and around on the bike. Their old golden retriever watched, appearing annoyed but too mellow by nature and too old to move.
“Hi!” Kristy beamed. “Santa brought me a new bike.”
“I see that,” Holly replied. “And it’s a beautiful bike, too.”
The toddler’s eyes sparkled, her hair pulled up into two piggy tails that curled into spirals. The beauty of the moment and Kristy’s obvious excitement made Holly’s stomach flip flop. A yearning in her womb that had started recently was suddenly screaming at her.
“You can ride it if you want.”
Lynne and Holly laughed. “No thank you, sweetie. It’s your bike. You ride it.” She lowered her voice so that only Lynne could hear what she said next. “And besides, my ass is about ten times too wide,” she muttered, sending them into laughter again.
“Want a glass of iced tea?” Lynne asked.
“That would be great.”
Lynne brought tall, cold glasses from the kitchen a few minutes later, and they sat at the patio table, sipping iced tea and watching the little speed racer travel around. They were both silent for quite some time, knowing that Lynne’s divorce was causing rifts all over the place.
“I brought you something,” Holly said and handed her a small gift from her purse.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
Holly batted a hand at her. “Open it.”
Lynne opened the gift and inside found a pin with a Celtic cross and an amethyst in the middle—Lynne’s birthstone. “Oh, my goodness. You really didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to. I was cruising the antique shops down on Newport in Ocean Beach on my day off, and I saw this and thought of you. I know how much you love Celtic crosses, and I really wanted you to have it.”
“It must’ve cost a fortune.”
“No, it didn’t, and it doesn’t matter what it cost,” Holly replied.
Lynne frowned, and reached across the table, taking Holly by the hand. “Look, you mean a great deal to me, and I want to thank you for all of your support with this divorce with Bill, but . . . God, I don’t know how to say this. I know the pressure that Jack’s been putting on you about our friendship. Bill came by the other day and we got into it. He said some things about how I’m splitting up you and Jack by expecting you to be my friend and support me through our problems.”
“That’s stupid! What a jerk! I’ve never felt you’ve expected anything of me. You are my friend. It just is.”
Lynne smiled, but there was a deep, dark sadness that crept into her blue eyes. “You can say that again. I say it, oh, probably fifty times a day. But the facts are, Holly, I know the ‘bros before hoes’ thing lasts until they’re good and dead. They never really grow up, and I don’t see Jack and Bill going their separate ways.”
Holly took a long sip from her tea. “So. Let them have their Sunday football games and you and I can get together. It doesn’t all have to change, does it?”
“I don’t know. But it might. I hope not, but it might. And if it does, promise me you won’t feel bad about it. No matter what happens in this situation, I know how you really feel about me, but I also understand that your marriage comes first, and I certainly wouldn’t want our friendship to get in the way of that.”
Holly didn’t know how to respond, and thankfully she didn’t have to as Kristy toppled over on the Big Wheel and started bawling. Her mother ran over, scooped her up, cradling her and rocking her in her arms, all forty pounds of her.
Once she settled down, Kristy said, “I want Auntie Holly to kiss my boo-boo.”
“You do?” Holly asked.
“Uh-huh.” Kristy held her scraped knee up for Holly to kiss.
“Okay, ready now? A la peanut butter sandwiches!” She kissed Kristy’s hurt knee. “Magically cured.”
“You stoled what the count says on Sesame Street.”
“No, I didn’t. I borrowed it. See, I’m a good friend of the Count’s, and he said that I could borrow all the magical things he says.”
Kristy giggled, reassured, and they whiled away the afternoon, with Holly telling Kristy stories and having quiet conversations with Lynne that varied from the lighthearted to serious, but all of it with an undertone of sadness.
Lynne had spoken the truth about the friendship changing, and now, as Holly drove up the Interstate 5 towards Children’s Hospital, the sensation of something insidious and evil sat in the center of her gut, and she couldn’t help but hate herself for having failed Lynne and Kristy.
She pulled into the emergency parking at the hospital and placed the police placard on her car. She walked directly to the ER desk and asked for Kristy’s room number.
The woman behind the desk rifled through several stacks of paperwork and said, “She’s just out of recovery and in the ICU. I can have someone take you up. But I can’t guarantee that the doctors will grant you entrance. They’re pretty protective of their patients up there. Dr. Lukeman, her doctor, is still on that floor, and he may allow you to see her.”
Moments later, after an elevator ride and moving quickly down several long corridors, Holly met up with the doctor. He shook her hand. “Dr. Lukeman.”
“Detective Jennings.”
“The other detective that was here left about an hour ago. I told her everything we know to this point, and that I would keep the police updated. Nothing has changed. We simply have to wait and see, Detective.”
“I understand. But I’d really like to see her.”
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that. Besides it wouldn’t be at all helpful. As I explained to the other detective, she’s in a coma. “To update you, she came out of surgery about three hours ago. When she was brought in, she had extensive internal bleeding and a serious head injury. I was able to get the bleeding under control, but we won’t know much of anything about her head injury for some time. The neurologist on call took a look, but it’s hard to say, with her being in a coma. Another specialist will examine her in a couple of days. Right now, her body needs recovery time.”
“So you have no idea how badly she’s been injured?” Holly asked, with fear in her voice.
“She had a bad gash to the head, and it’s obvious there is some swelling there that we’ll have to watch. If it swells too much, we’ll have to consider removing a portion of the skull, draining it and then waiting until the swelling goes down to put the skull back on.”
The intense tightening in Holly’s stomach grew worse. “Look, I know you say it won’t do me any good to see her, but I’d really like to.”
“Detective, she’s not going to wake up anytime soon, and if she does, we don’t know how much of her will be there. We don’t know if this child will ever be able to put a sentence together again, much less tell you what happened to her.”
His crassness angered her and she couldn’t keep herself in check any longer. She was shaking all over, surprised at how strong her emotions were. “I know this child! I’ve known her since she was a baby. Her mother was a friend of mine. Now, damn it, I’d like to see her,” Holly blurted out before thinking.
“I’m very sorry, Detective. I didn’t realize. I would never have been so . . .”
Holly held up her hand. “I understand. I should have told you that I know her. That I love her. I’m sorry. Will you please let me see her?”
The doctor seemed to be evaluating her as he peered through his glasses. He looked awfully young to be a surgeon, but she knew that people thought the same about her in her profession. She had not intended to antagonize him, but right now he was the gatekeeper, and she needed to get past him.
“All right. Now that I know your situation is different than most non-family members, I’ll go ahead and let you in. But only for ten minutes.”
“Great. Thank you.”
He led her to Kristy’s room, where a uniformed policeman was posted outside the door. He briefly touched the edge of his cap in recognition as Holly passed into the room. She hoped he hadn’t heard her
conversation with the doctor.
Holly was not prepared for what was behind the door. Kristy lay still and quiet in the hospital bed that dwarfed her small frame. Tubes were connected everywhere, and monitors guarded her vital signs, their annoying beeps jangling Holly’s already edgy nerves. Kristy had been intubated with a breathing tube, and the sound of air pumping into her lungs was ominous and painful to hear. Holly had to close her eyes momentarily as a wave of dizziness caught her off guard.
She pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat with Kristy. “Hey kid,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry about this.” She bit back the tears that stung her eyes. She gently rubbed Kristy’s hand and arm, carefully avoiding the IV tubes. “I promise I’ll get him. I will.” She heard the determination in her voice. She was going to kill this fucker, if it was the last thing she ever did.
She sat there with Kristy, images of her as a baby, of when she first walked and how excited Lynne had been . . . All of the memories came flooding back.
Shortly before Holly and Jack knew that there were problems in Lynne’s and Bill’s marriage, they’d all gotten together for a barbeque. Kristy must’ve been about ten months old, and Holly had spent most of the night cooing at her and playing with her. She’d been disappointed when the baby had fallen asleep and Lynne had put her in her crib. She and Jack had left a few minutes later.
In the car, Jack had reached over and grabbed Holly’s hand across the seat. “You are so good with that baby, honey. I mean, you’re a natural.”
“She’s a pretty sweet baby. It’s easy when they’re good.” Holly laughed.
“Nah, I think it’s more than that. I think you’ve got it in you to be a great mom.”
Holly had laughed even louder. “I’m a cop, Jack. What kind of mother would I make? I fight bad guys and put them in jail. I don’t cook, and we both know my cleaning skills aren’t exactly the greatest.”
“Phooey! You could still be a cop and a mom. I know you could. Yeah, sure, you’re as tough as the boys, but I know, even if they don’t, that there’s a real softy inside you. You’ve got a heart as big as all outdoors.”
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