Ruthless: The Faces of Evil Series: Book 6

by Debra Webb

  “In the future,” he said, “when I call, answer.” That lethal tone was one she hadn’t heard before. “I don’t care where you are or what you’re doing, answer the damned phone.”

  “There are times—”

  He moved his head firmly from side to side, shutting her up. “There is no time that excuses your refusal to answer. If you are conscious, you answer. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Why did you and Detective Wells leave this morning without your surveillance detail?”

  Oh hell. “I forgot.” That was the truth. She completely forgot she needed to let them know when she left the office. “It won’t happen again.”

  He pointed to the waiting cruiser. “They will be following you the rest of the day. A two-man team will be watching you every minute of every day and night until this is over.”

  “Fine.” Geez. He didn’t have to be such a hardass about it.

  He turned to walk away and she called after him, “Dan, wait.”

  When he’d turned around she suggested, “Since you’re here, why don’t you take this stuff to Evidence and save me a trip.”

  Before he could respond she passed him the bag containing the card and the envelope. Lori opened the trunk to retrieve the flowers.

  He glared at Jess as he took the flowers then he just walked away. No good-bye, no see you later, nothing.

  “He is pissed,” Lori said, as she rounded to her side of the car. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that angry.”

  “Seriously.” Jess dropped into the passenger seat and exhaled a chest full of frustration. “I’ll call Mrs. James en route. And, for God’s sake, whatever you do, don’t lose that tail.”

  “By the way,” Lori said, as she backed out of the parking slot, “Roger Fowler’s dead. He had a heart attack last year. His ex-wife said she hopes he’s rotting in hell.”

  “Guess he’s not our guy.”

  Unless there were two.

  Pelham, 3:30 p.m.

  Erin James sat on the sofa next to her husband, Roy, and kept quiet as Jess asked the questions she hoped would prompt some new memory… some seemingly insignificant fact that had been left out of their statements fourteen years ago.

  Again, the answers were exactly the same as the ones given all those years before. Jess tamped down her mounting frustration. She would find the missing piece. All she had to do was keep going over the puzzle.

  “Did Emma like dogs?” she asked. According to the case file, the family hadn’t owned any pets at the time of their daughter’s disappearance. Since previous investigations found no connection between the victims—little girls—Jess was reviewing any possible link. Dorie Myers had a dog she adored, and that dog had gone missing that same night. Maybe it was a long shot, but it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

  “She was afraid of dogs,” Roy answered.

  His wife rarely even blinked. Jess suspected she had required medication after the news they’d gotten last night. No matter that fourteen years had passed, if the tiniest light of hope had still lived deep inside these parents, it was extinguished now.

  “So no pets?” Jess repeated for clarification.

  The husband shook his head. “No pets.”

  Erin’s gaze abruptly shifted to meet Jess’s. “There was a cat.”

  “A cat?”

  The husband stared at his wife as if she’d lost her mind. “We didn’t have a cat, sweetheart. Emma was allergic to cats.”

  Erin’s head went up and down, the move a little uncoordinated. “I know.” She drew in a big breath. “But she liked them anyway. Every time we visited anyone who had a cat, Emma would ask me why couldn’t she have one. ‘I don’t mind sneezing,’ she’d say.” Erin’s lips trembled into a smile as she swiped at her eyes. “But we didn’t want to aggravate her allergies, so we never let her have one.”

  “You said there was a cat,” Jess reminded gently.

  “A stray, I guess,” Erin said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It showed up a couple days before…”

  “You didn’t tell me about a cat,” Roy said accusingly, as if she’d broken a marriage vow.

  Jess understood his reaction. It was a common one among those left behind after a devastating tragedy. Those tender memories were so precious, the idea that he’d been left out of one was too painful to bear.

  “I knew you wouldn’t like it,” Erin admitted. “I let her play with it in her room. We fed her some milk. She was really hungry.”

  Roy stood and stepped away from the sofa. “I can’t believe you kept this from me.”

  Erin ignored him. She just kept on talking to Jess as if the dam had broken and she couldn’t stop the outpouring of words. “She was white with black spots. Long hair, like a Persian. We knew she had a good home somewhere, because she was plenty fat and her coat was shiny.” Another smile tugged at her lips. “Emma wanted to name her Spot if no one claimed her. I laughed and told her Spot was a dog’s name.”

  “What happened to the cat?” Jess wasn’t sure how the stray cat fit into the child’s abduction, but she wasn’t going to pretend this couldn’t be relevant. She just wasn’t sure how yet. The slightest detail could make the difference.

  “We were going to talk to Roy the next day. I told Emma that her daddy would come around. He loved her too much to deny her anything.”

  Roy turned back to her then, his face damp with emotion.

  “When she said her prayers that night she included the cat.”

  “Why didn’t I ever see this cat?” Roy asked gently. He resumed his seat next to his wife.

  “The cat was gone the next morning, just like Emma.” She swiped at her eyes again. “I consoled myself with the idea that the cat was with her wherever she was.”

  “You didn’t see the cat after that night?” Jess asked again. The cat had come from somewhere and chances were if it was lost it would hang around where it had gotten fed last. “It didn’t belong to any of your neighbors?”

  “Never saw it again.”

  Jess looked from Erin to her husband. “I know you’ve both relived those days leading up to the night Emma disappeared over and over. I also know it’s difficult to keep going back and revisiting those painful memories. But the smallest forgotten detail could make a difference. If you think of anything at all that you may have overlooked before, or if a question comes to mind, please call me.” She placed her business card on the coffee table.

  “You still want to see her room?”

  The hope in the mother’s voice squeezed Jess’s heart. “I do, yes.”

  The Jameses’ home was a three-bedroom ranch in a quiet neighborhood that backed up to a wooded area. Like Dorie’s room, Emma’s had been left exactly as it was the night she disappeared. The bed was unmade, the My Little Pony comforter cast aside. Above the bed, pictures of colorful ponies and spotted cats drawn in crayon were thumbtacked to the wall, the edges yellowed and curling. Dolls and stuffed animals adorned the shelves along one wall, but it was a big, stuffed, very pink pony sitting atop the chest of drawers that drew Jess’s attention.

  “She got Prissy for her birthday that spring,” Erin explained, stroking the pony’s thick mane. “She said when she grew up she intended to keep a pony in her backyard.”

  “She was quite the artist.” Jess surveyed the crayon drawings above the bed. A girl who knew what she wanted and didn’t mind putting it on paper for anyone to see.

  “She always got an A in Art.”

  Jess turned to the father standing in the middle of the room, looking lost with his quiet comment echoing around them. “Before we go, Mr. James, if it’s no trouble, do you mind if we have a look at your backyard?”

  “No trouble.”

  He led the way through the house and out the kitchen door. Lori trailed behind Jess, listening to Erin go on about what a smart little girl Emma was. Always did her homework. Cleaned her room and minded her manners. Her voice prompted images of that gap-toothed sm
ile and those long blonde locks of Emma’s. How had these people managed to go on after losing that precious child?

  How could she possibly ever prepare herself for motherhood?

  Jess pushed the thoughts aside and wandered around the yard. Emma and the others were depending on her.

  She noted the location of the old swing set and the fact that there was no fence separating the backyard from the woods. She made a mental note that there were woods behind Dorie’s house, too. Then she moved to the window that looked into Emma’s bedroom. Even as short as Jess was, she could see the drawings on the wall above the child’s bed.

  The Man in the Moon would have seen them, too. The drawings told him about how much Emma loved ponies… and about the spotted cat.

  Jess turned back to the parents watching her so intently and mustered a reassuring smile. “We should get out of your way now. Thank you for helping with our investigation.”

  “Do you think you can find him—” Ray James looked away, cleared his throat “—after all this time?”

  This was the second time today she’d been asked that question. “I can promise you one thing, Mr. James,” she said. “I will give it everything I’ve got and then some.”

  Emma’s parents followed her and Lori to the front of the house before going inside and closing the door.

  Once in the Mustang she and Lori sat for a minute before driving away. The air-conditioning fought valiantly against the August heat. The police cruiser waited on the street for their next move.

  “Do you think he’ll keep making these deliveries to you?” Lori’s voice filled the quiet that had shrouded them like a funeral cloak.

  Jess wished she could answer that question with any measure of certainty. “His every step depends on what his motive is for suddenly reappearing.” She thought of the rusty swing set in the backyard that had waited fourteen years for the little girl who once played on it to return. “I think we’ll know by tomorrow night if he plans to continue. He seems to be on a pretty aggressive schedule.”

  “Why do you think he’s doing this? Getting your attention surely isn’t his primary objective.”

  Jess laughed though the sound fell flat of humor. “I know I’m cute and lovable, but I agree that getting my attention is likely not his primary objective.”

  “Remorse maybe?” Lori braced her hands on the steering wheel. “Maybe he is old and dying and hoping to find absolution.”

  Dan had suggested something along those lines. Jess doubted his motive was that simple or anywhere near that pure. “If his motive was absolution, then why make a game of it? Why not just deliver each child’s remains to her parents’ doorstep?” Jess dug out her sunglasses and slid them into place. “My impression is that he’s a sociopath with a larger agenda and we’re way behind the curve.”

  Lori sighed. “Where to now?”

  Jess glanced at the BPD cruiser waiting to follow them. “A couple more hours at the office and then I’m going home.” She relaxed into the seat and tried to evict the images of a little girl and a stray cat wandering off into the darkness.

  If the Man in the Moon would just give her something… anything that pointed her in the right direction.

  He wanted her to find him, or so he claimed.

  Something Fergus Cagle had said to her reverberated through her now. The meter readers learned the idiosyncrasies of the homes… got to know the families’ routines…

  Whoever took these children knew the homes and the families. He wasn’t afraid to approach the house and take what he wanted. Clearly he had watched his prey for days or weeks until he felt utterly confident.

  Who else besides a meter reader had the opportunity to get that close on a regular basis without rousing suspicion?

  Pest control provider? The mailman?

  Not the mailman. His deliveries rarely took him to the door of a home and certainly not to the children’s bedroom windows. Mailboxes were way out in front near the street… nowhere near the windows on the backs of the homes.

  Jess closed her eyes. She needed to clear her head… then she could start over with a fresh perspective.

  A long hot bath was in order.

  And a glass of wine…

  Or maybe not, since she still hadn’t gotten her period. She groaned. How had she gotten into this mess?

  She did a mental eye roll. Oh, yes. She remembered. One tall, dark, and handsome police chief was the answer.

  The very one who might just need to learn to answer to “Daddy.”

  Birmingham Police Department, 6:35 p.m.

  Jess stared at her cell phone through two more rings. Gant. She steeled herself and answered just before it went to voice mail. “Harris,” she said by way of a greeting.

  “You didn’t think you needed to call me when those flowers were delivered?”

  “That’s what Burnett’s for,” she countered. “I’m sure he called you as soon as he finished chewing me out for not calling him.” He was still mad at her. Anytime he avoided her it was because he was too angry to trust what he might say.

  Well she was mad, too. Mad as hell that Spears was out there playing a game that included three innocent women whose names she didn’t even know yet. Gant and the whole bunch needed to be worried about those three women, not her. Jess could take care of herself.

  “Your stalker in the Infiniti is getting bolder, Jess,” Gant cautioned. “There’s no way to anticipate what he might do next.”

  “Have you identified the women in those photos?” That’s what the supervisory agent in charge of the Behavioral Analysis Unit needed to have his energies and powerful abilities of analysis focused on. He was wasting time talking to her.

  “We’re close on one of the women. We’ve followed up on hundreds of names from callers. This time we may have gotten lucky in Mobile. I hope to have a confirmation within the next twenty-four hours.”

  Jess sat up a little straighter. “Have you actually found the woman?” That would be very good news. She wanted to hope… she really did.

  “Not exactly. She—if this is one of the women in the photos—is unaccounted for.”

  Jess groaned. “Damn it. Where the hell are these women? Their faces are all over the news. Someone somewhere has to know them.”

  “Bear in mind, Jess,” Gant reminded her, “we only got the photos out to the media and in the national databases less than seventy-two hours ago. These things take time. You know this. It doesn’t work like it does on TV.”

  Jess reared back and glared at her phone. “You did not just say that to me.”

  “You know what I mean, Jess.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.” She did. People, young and old, went missing all the time without being missed immediately by friends and neighbors. She also knew that Spears would take advantage of those least likely to be missed. “Am I still trending among his friends on the Net?”

  Wasn’t that every woman’s dream? To be the subject of discussion among killers and their fans?

  “That’s difficult to assess. There’s indications that some have moved on to private chat rooms. But they’re still out there Jess, and they’re talking about you.”

  Lovely. “As soon as you find out about the woman in Mobile, you’ll let me know?”

  “Count on it.”

  When the call ended Jess decided it was time to go home. As if she’d summoned him, Harper strolled back into the office. He’d had a command performance with the chief of police.

  Jess grabbed her bag and readied to go. Harper went about doing the same. That he didn’t say anything had Jess wondering what Dan had to say. This was the first time since their college days that he’d gotten this angry at her. She remembered now why she hated so much when they argued. It made her feel empty and… afraid.

  “You ready, ma’am?” Harper asked.

  She cleared her throat and banished the memories. “Is he still angry at me?”

  Harper considered her question a moment. “Not angry, no, ma’am. H
e’s worried.”

  Well, that made two of them. “Take me home, Sergeant. I’m done for today.”

  Sometimes a woman, even a cop, had to admit when she was at an impasse and only a hot bath and chocolate would help.

  And maybe an apology.

  9911 Conroy Road, 7:15 p.m.

  Jess stared at the interior of her fridge hoping something ready to eat and delicious would appear. There was nothing edible except a hunk of cheese and leftover pizza that needed to go in the trash. Somehow she just didn’t have the wherewithal to shut the door and admit she had no food in the house.

  Hadn’t she just gone shopping and filled her shelves the other day? Relenting, she closed the fridge door and moved on to the cupboards. Yeah, there was food but all of it required some prep time and she just wasn’t up for it.

  Any other time she wouldn’t even think about food unless someone waved it in front of her. Maybe it was the fact she was getting nowhere on this case that had her wanting to break open a box of Hamburger Helper and eat the uncooked noodles.

  She grabbed her cell and shuffled over to the sofa. The suit she’d worn today was in the dry cleaner’s pile. After a quick shower she’d dragged on jeans and a tee. Eventually she was having that hot bath just to relax her muscles and then heading straight to bed.

  But she needed to eat first. Her belly wouldn’t stop rumbling. Maybe that middle-age spread she’d always heard about had taken root and needed fuel for the necessary expansion. Other than chocolate, she’d never been a stress eater.

  The third possible explanation bobbed to the surface of her other worries.

  “Not going there.” The concept was still only a theory. With this case and the whole Spears thing, who’d had time to pick up a test, anyway? No need to worry until she was at least a week late. That was reasonable, wasn’t it?

  Let it go for now.

  “Who around here delivers?” She prompted a Google search. “Definitely not pizza.” She bypassed all the pizza joints. “Steak-Out?” She shrugged. “Maybe.”

  The security system warned that she had company. Maybe it was Dan. Guilt gave her a nudge. She hoped it was Dan. Most of his points were valid. It wasn’t fair for her to ignore him. She owed him an apology. If there was ever a time in her life she needed to stop being so damned hardheaded and independent, this was it. She and Dan were… a couple. Didn’t matter that this particular status wasn’t official. Work conflicts and ethics had to be considered. He was her boss, and everyone in the department was going to be gauging whether or not she gained extra privileges because of their personal relationship.