Ruthless: The Faces of Evil Series: Book 6

by Debra Webb

  Jess exchanged a look with Lori. There would be more.

  Just as she suspected, both men hesitated at the door. “If you need either of us,” Cook offered, as he held his hand to his face in the call-me gesture, “you know what to do.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Lori assured him.

  With the testosterone out of the room, Lori huddled closer to Jess. “Before we get to the case, I told Chet I went to the movies with my mom and my sister last night, but what we actually did was talk to his mom. His birthday is Sunday.”

  So that was what the girls’ night out was about. Maybe there wasn’t any trouble in paradise. The vibes Jess had picked up between them hadn’t suggested problems.

  “Are you planning him a surprise party?” Jess wasn’t so sure how their work schedules would go this weekend, but she didn’t want to miss whatever Lori had in mind.

  “With the Spears case and this one I didn’t consider anything that complicated.” She gave a hopeful shrug. “I thought maybe lunch Sunday afternoon at his favorite restaurant. His mother traditionally prepares dinner for him, so I don’t want to step on her toes.”

  Jess opted not to ask about his son and ex-wife. Life was complicated these days. Seemed everyone had one kind of baggage or another.

  “Count me in.” Even if they were working they had to eat.

  “Do you think it would be okay to ask Chief Burnett?” Lori ventured.

  “I’ll ask him.” She and Dan spent most weekends together, when they weren’t on duty. Why kid herself about the upcoming one, on duty or not?

  She’d tossed and turned last night wishing she were in Dan’s big old bed at that fancy house of his in Mountain Brook. No matter how hard she tried convincing herself that they could continue with this charade indefinitely, the truth was they needed to make some decisions. Soon.

  “Thank you. I thought this could be a kind of work-friends get-together.”

  Which meant she wasn’t inviting the ex or the kid. “Sounds great.”

  “So.” Lori held the folder in both hands and tapped it against Jess’s desk, leveling the thick contents. “I could hardly sleep last night trying to figure out a connection between the children. There has to be one.”

  “Absolutely.” Jess had tossed and turned herself. Missing Dan and this case were the primary reasons. And the text from Spears. She pushed that subject aside and still a shiver stole over her.

  “According to the official reports from over the years,” Lori continued, “the usual connections have been ruled out. It’s not the schools, churches, doctors, or any sort of extracurricular community program.” She shook her head. “It’s almost as if these girls weren’t even from the same planet despite the fact that they were all residents of the Birmingham area, Jefferson and Shelby counties.” She inclined her head, her gaze narrowing. “Yet their lives didn’t seem to cross paths at all before their disappearances.”

  “The parents insist there’s no contractor or handyman connection,” Jess noted. That was generally the next tier of suspects considered. Like Lori, it was driving her nuts not to be able to lay her finger on at least one connection. “No beauty shops, boutiques, or grocery stores in common. Nothing other than the Galleria mall that some say they rarely visited and others went to with more regularity.”

  “The Galleria employees were interviewed during the investigations of the final four victims,” Lori reminded her. “Backgrounds checked. Other than the routine traffic troubles and a few who’d had misdemeanor possession charges and one three-year-old DUI, the investigators got nothing there.”

  That was the hardest part in a case like this where there was no evidence and no witnesses. “The potential for contact is unlimited, really,” Jess confessed. “Even when you think you’ve covered all the bases there’s usually one more you didn’t think of.”

  “True.” She tapped that file on Jess’s desk again. “So true.”

  Jess felt a little trickle of anticipation. Lori had found something. Something important. “It almost always narrows down to something small,” Jess went on. “Something no one was even looking for.”

  “Exactly.” Lori grinned outright then. She opened the folder and placed a crime scene photo from thirty years ago in front of Jess. “The one thing every one of these families had in common was public utilities.” She pointed to the meter base right next to the missing child’s bedroom window.

  Her heart thundering, Jess moved through photo after photo and it was the same in each one. The angles were different but in every single photo of every damned window belonging to a missing child there was a power company meter base.

  “I want the name of every meter reader whose territory covered these homes during the past thirty-five years.”

  “Already made the call.” She gave a little acknowledging nod. “We should have the list by noon.”

  Jess surveyed the case board across the room and the sweet faces there. This was another monster she intended to get.

  He wasn’t taking another little girl on her watch.

  Pelham, 1:05 p.m.

  I spent thirty years with Alabama Power.” Lawrence Patrick leaned back in his rocker. “Went to work there right out of the army. I’d just turned twenty-two.”

  Jess had learned that in interviews like this one far more could be gleaned by allowing the person of interest to talk about her-or himself for a while first. In this case, the tactic allowed Mr. Patrick to relax and feel as if he were in charge of the information exchange and that he was providing input to the investigation versus being questioned as a potential suspect.

  “Thirty years.” Jess made a note on her pad. Next to her Lori did the same, using the notepad on her smartphone. The old-fashioned way suited Jess just fine. “That’s an admirable accomplishment, Mr. Patrick. You retired last year?”

  “I did.” He cocked his head and studied Jess. “Do you really believe any of my meter readers could have been involved with the disappearance of those little girls?”

  Now they got to the heart of the matter. Jess had been waiting for him to get there before she launched the first direct question. She’d started with the top-ranking name on the list Alabama Power provided. A field supervisor. “We have to retrace the steps of anyone who visited the homes of the children on a regular basis. Someone who might have known all the families involved.”

  “Well.” He shrugged. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told the other cop who made that same statement thirteen years ago.”

  Jess stalled the frown that wanted to furrow her brow. “You were interviewed by someone from the Birmingham Police Department before?”

  He nodded. “Sure was. When that last little girl went missing, the Myers child, a Detective Corly or Corlon. He asked me about the meter readers for the routes that covered the Myerses’ home as well as the others that devil stole children from. Me and that detective went over each address, one by one, all the way back to the first abduction thirty-three years ago. The first two kids went missing before I started with Alabama Power,” Patrick pointed out, “but by the time the Myers child disappeared I was a supervisor, so I had access to the personnel files, knew the guys who’d worked those routes personally. Not one of those men would dream of hurting a child. I’d bet my life on it.”

  Unfortunately it wasn’t his life at stake.

  If the BPD interviewed this man, why wasn’t there a report? Jess had specifically looked for that connection after Lori suggested the possibility. She would be asking Black about the discrepancy. Meanwhile, she wanted to talk to that detective. “Could the detective who interviewed you have been named Corlew?”

  “This is a photo of Detective Corlew.” Lori showed Mr. Patrick the image on her cell. “Is he the man who interviewed you?”

  “Yes, ma’am, that’s him. He was a little younger, of course.” Patrick pointed to the screen. “I remember now, there was some kinda hubbub in the news about him a few years later. Got fired, I believe.”

  “Why do
n’t we go over the statement you gave Detective Corlew?” Jess suggested. “Perhaps you’ve remembered something you didn’t think to mention at the time.”

  Patrick shook his head. “I don’t mind going over what I told him but nothing about what I said then has changed. For the twenty or so years in question there were a total of six full-time meter readers and two fellows who filled in from time to time to take care of those particular routes during vacations and illness. Four of ’em have passed on since then.”

  “What about the other four?” She’d come this far, and she wasn’t going to leave a stone unturned just because Mr. Patrick felt confident there was nothing to find along that path. “They’re still alive? Working?”

  “Fergus Cagle took my place as supervisor. The other three, Mike Kennamer, Jerry Bullock, and Waylon Gifford, are still reading those meters. All upstanding men with children and grandchildren of their own.” He shook his head. “You won’t find the devil you’re looking for among ’em, Chief Harris.”

  That was the problem with the devil: most folks didn’t recognize him until it was too late. Sometimes not even then.

  Half an hour later Jess thanked Mr. Patrick and followed Lori to her snazzy red Mustang. “Before we move on to the interviews with Cagle and the others, I’d like to find out why Corlew’s interviews with these guys weren’t in the case files.”

  “We could ask Chief Black,” Lori suggested, as she opened the driver’s-side door.

  Jess sent her a skeptical look. “I was thinking something a little less volatile. He’s still stinging from last week’s revelations about the Five.”

  “I was hoping you would say that.”

  When they’d settled into the oven Alabama’s August sun had transformed the car’s interior into, Lori snapped her seat belt into place. “Corlew’s having lunch at Jim ‘N Nick’s. He invited us to join him.”

  Yet another reason Jess felt so fortunate to have Lori on her team. Knowing Jess would want to talk to Corlew—even before she’d said as much—Lori had already confirmed his location. Technology was an amazing thing. While Jess had continued to question Mr. Patrick, Lori had obviously been communicating via text messages with Buddy Corlew. One of these days Lori needed to give Jess a few lessons.

  Since Harper and Cook were whittling down the list of cops who’d worked this case in the past, Jess wondered if they had already interviewed Corlew. “Any word from Harper?”

  Lori revved the Mustang’s engine. “They haven’t gotten to Corlew’s name on the list, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “That’s the answer I was hoping for. I’ll let Harper know we’re taking that one.” Jess tapped in the message and hit Send. For someone who hated text messaging, she’d become quite adept at it. Still, she had a long way to go to catch up with her detectives.

  She relaxed into the seat and considered Patrick’s statement as well as his demeanor during the interview. He felt confident none of his people were involved with the abductions. He’d gone as far as to ask Jess if she’d considered the telephone companies and the cable providers, since most of the families involved had one or both.

  The answer was yes. But the phone company didn’t make regular visits to the homes, and none of the victims’ families had listed work by the telephone company in the two or three weeks prior to the disappearances. Same went for the cable companies.

  “Looks like every light’s going to get us,” Lori grumbled.

  She’d had to stop for the last two traffic signals. “If one gets you, they all will.”

  “Annoys the crap out of me.”

  Lori brought up Harper’s birthday again, but the sporty car waiting in the lane next to them had snagged Jess’s attention. The windows were darkly tinted—illegally so, she would wager—making it impossible to see the driver. But that wasn’t what garnered her attention. That creepy-crawly sensation she experienced whenever someone was watching her had goose bumps spilling across her skin.

  Paranoia. If she allowed herself to be distracted by what-ifs she might miss important details in this investigation. She needed to be completely focused. Determined to make that happen, she turned her attention back to the traffic signal. Was it never going to change to green?

  An engine revved. At first Jess thought it was Lori. The sound was very similar to her high-octane Mustang’s roar… but it wasn’t Lori. Another rumbling had Jess turning toward the car waiting next to them. Camaro. Black. She couldn’t see the driver through the heavily tinted windows, but the feeling that he could see her and wanted her attention was undeniable.

  Was he baiting them?

  “Just wait until the light changes, smart-ass,” Lori warned. “We’ll see who has the fastest top end.” She shook her head at Jess. “When you drive a sports car everyone else driving one automatically assumes you want to see who can piss the farthest. Especially guys.”

  Jess tried to relax. That was as good an explanation as any. “Maybe he’s flirting with the driver.”

  “Maybe.” The light changed and Lori eased forward. “Since you’re in the car I won’t make an ass of myself.”

  “Don’t hold back on my account.” To Jess’s supreme irritation, rather than taking off the other car kept pace with theirs.

  She glared at the tinted window running right alongside hers. The idea that the driver could be armed—like last week when she’d had a weapon pointed at her from a car trailing her—had her barely resisting the urge to squirm.

  Deciding she’d had enough of the other driver’s tactics, whatever the motive, Jess opened her mouth to tell Lori to floor it when the other car abruptly lunged forward, leaving them behind.

  “It’s a rental,” Lori grumbled. “What an idiot.”

  Jess breathed a little easier.

  For the rest of the drive back to Birmingham she comforted herself with the notion that Lori was probably right when she mentioned the competitiveness of sports car drivers.

  Then again, denial was a common escape… even for those experienced enough to know better. Spears had used rentals before. And there was Captain Ted Allen. His family hadn’t heard from him. His body hadn’t been found, though his vehicle had been. Maybe he was driving that rental. Maybe he still wanted revenge for Jess busting into his case, which seemed totally irrational unless his connection to Lopez was a financial one. That avenue, as well as several others, was under investigation.

  Don’t let your imagination run away with you, Jess. Ted Allen was one of two places, in her opinion: soaking up rays on a sunny beach somewhere south of the border, or pushing up daisies right under their noses.

  Dread sent a shudder rocking through her.

  “You cold?” Lori reached for the AC control.

  “No.” Jess shook her head. “I’m fine. Just fine.”

  Jim ‘N Nick’s was on Eleventh Avenue in Five Points, near Lori’s old apartment. The atmosphere was casual, and the aromas coming from the kitchen were incredible. Jess’s mouth began to water as soon as they walked through the door. She’d had no idea she was so starved until she walked into the place. Usually she had to be reminded it was time to eat.

  No one was going to have to remind her at the moment. Food just tasted better lately—except for that pizza last night.

  Corlew waved them over to his booth. “I ordered burgers and sweet tea. You won’t get better anywhere in town.”

  “Thanks,” Lori said, as she waited for Jess to slide into the booth first.

  Corlew assessed her for a second or two too long. “How’s it going, Jess?”

  Jess would have to be deaf not to notice the way his voice softened when he spoke to her. Good Lord, they had been a long time ago. And even then there really hadn’t been a them. She had already been with Dan. But there had been something between her and Corlew. A spark… a glimmer of something that might have been had circumstances been different.

  A close call for any female. Buddy Corlew had been a womanizing shit. A damned handsome one, but a
shit nonetheless. He had, however, been a friend on occasion. She was hoping this would be one of those occasions.

  Mostly, she surmised, today’s thoughtfulness was about making up for trying to make the BPD, Dan in particular, look bad last week. By all accounts, he’d spent a lot of time trying to make the department look bad. Not so unusual for ex-cops, especially ones who’d been fired. But he should get over that, Jess thought. Corlew was a PI these days. Carrying around a grudge wasn’t going to win him any respect, much less friends.

  “Going just great, Corlew. How’s the PI business?” As a private investigator he did basically the same work she did, just without all the rules and the ultimate arrests. Like her, he’d never been very good with rules anyway. The main difference between them was that she would never use anyone else to get ahead. Corlew would use anyone, anytime, for anything that might benefit him.

  “I heard you almost lost your ponytail,” Lori chimed in when the silence dragged on. “You made today’s early morning news.”

  He laughed, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest, something Jess shouldn’t have noticed. “That was a close one,” he agreed.

  Maybe it was an inside joke, but Jess had no idea what the two were talking about. Apparently she needed to watch the early morning news while she rushed about getting ready in the mornings. Never going to happen.

  As if he’d gathered her confusion from her expression, he explained, “I promised a client I’d bring her no-good-cheating husband back to Birmingham for prosecution. He’d cleaned out her bank account and run off with the housekeeper.” Corlew shook his head. “I told her she could chop off my hair if I failed. That bastard was halfway across Texas headed for Mexico when I caught up with him. Got him back here about midnight last night.”

  The ponytail was vintage Corlew. He’d had it all through high school. Jess imagined the only time he’d been without it was during his stint in the Marines and his tenure with the department.

  Their burgers arrived, and Jess lost herself in the food that strangely tasted better than anything she’d ever eaten in her entire life. She couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed a simple burger more. If she’d been at home alone she would’ve licked her fingers when she finished. If she kept eating like this she was going to outgrow the new wardrobe she’d been forced to buy when her motel room and all her stuff was vandalized a couple of weeks ago.