Killing Streak

by Merit Clark

  He told her about the files he’d gotten from Aranda, about some of his theories, and his conclusions from the spreadsheet.

  As he talked she found herself noticing his hands. Jack’s were square and strong, with long slim fingers. Beautiful hands. “Have you ever—” She stopped. What the hell was she doing? Never. Never talk about it.

  “Have I ever what?”

  She toyed with a French fry and was saved from answering by a nurse, who came in and looked at them and the food with disapproval. She spoke directly to Jack and slammed an ice pack down on the table. Corie was to apply the pack, fifteen minutes at a time, to the lump on her head.

  “Wow, I’m glad I’m not really sick,” Corie said.

  “You have a lump on your head?”

  “It’s nothing. And I love how everyone talks to you as if I’m not competent enough to understand spoken words.”

  “It’s my natural air of authority.” Jack handed her the ice pack. “Did they say you have a concussion?”

  “I have a goose egg. It’s no big deal.” Corie shivered as the cold ice touched the tender spot. “They had me follow lights with my eyes and answer questions like what day is it and what planet do we live on, and I’m fine. I don’t have a concussion. Nothing’s broken. The vehemence and wonder with which everyone insists I’m lucky is downright heartwarming.”

  “Wow, I thought I was cynical.” He looked at the display on his phone.

  “You’re going to time the fifteen minutes? Were you always this anal?”

  “I might get distracted by your sparkling conversational abilities and lose track.”

  “Touché.” Corie slumped in the bed feeling thoroughly defeated. “Ask me questions if you want. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

  Jack apparently decided her sanity was intact because, in between bites of his burger, he asked a question about Evan’s compensation.

  “He charges straight consulting fees for some things, but sometimes it works out better to take a percentage. Like if someone is being sued for ten million dollars and Evan helps them defend successfully, he might work out a bonus arrangement.”

  Corie watched Jack wipe at his mouth with a napkin, then make a note in the ubiquitous pad.

  “You said he makes a good witness.”

  She nodded, lost in thought. “Evan seduces juries.” Over the years her husband’s performances on the stand had gotten better and better. Confident. Charming. She tipped her head to the side and looked at Jack. “You haven’t seen that side of him. He has a knack for making people trust him.”

  Jack’s eyes were dark and serious. “Do you usually go to court with him?”

  “No. Not anymore. At first I used to go all the time. But then like everything else . . .” Her voice trailed off. Like everything else what? Got old? Got nauseating? “I suspect he was happy to replace me with more docile assistants.”

  “Speaking of that, do you know a woman named Jennifer Suarez? Hoffman now.”

  “Smooth, Jack. Yes, I remember her. Jennifer worked for us about two years ago. Evan told me he fired her because she wasn’t willing to work the hours needed for the job. I think that was crap, but as usual I didn’t press him. Why? Is she okay?”

  “Tell me about when she worked for you.”

  “Do you ever actually answer a question?”

  He smiled and took another bite of his burger.

  Corie in fact remembered Jennifer fondly. The young woman had been nice and eager to please. Unthreatening. Maybe not so bright but more than willing to make up for her lack of experience with enthusiasm. Like Vangie.

  Jack noticed her frown. “What?”

  “I just realized that Jennifer reminds me of Vangie in some ways.”

  Jack looked like she’d surprised him. “I hadn’t thought of that but you’re right. About the same age, a little on the heavy side, long dark hair.”

  “Apparently I’m not Evan’s type.” The corner of her mouth turned up in a bitter smile. “Cynical, huh?”

  “It’s a defense mechanism.”

  “Speaking from personal experience?”

  “I have another question. It might be rough.”

  “Here we go. Was Jennifer sleeping with him, too?”

  Jack held her gaze and he didn’t blink. “No, I think that’s the problem Evan had with her. That wasn’t my question, though. Did Evan ever threaten you with a knife?”

  She’d steeled herself to do this, to be done with self-pity, and the sudden tears pissed her off. “You didn’t sneak in a bottle of wine with the food, did you?”

  “Sorry.”

  “I’m in a hospital. You’d think the least they could do is give me some good drugs. Augh. You’re going to think I’m so stupid.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

  Corie wished that were true. “There was this one time I let him blindfold me. Years ago, back when we were first married. That really scared me, not being able to see. But he told me I was uptight. Evan loves telling me I’m uptight.” The scene in the hot tub flashed through her mind and she shoved it away.

  “Anyway. We were in bed and I felt him touching me with something.” Corie could hear the hum of the air conditioner in that long-ago room, feel the silk sheets against her skin.

  “It’s okay,” Jack said.

  She made a motion with her hand. “No. I can do this.” Then she spoke quickly, afraid if she hesitated she wouldn’t get it all out.

  “Evan was running this thing lightly up and down my leg, on the inside of my thigh. It felt weird. Cold. I asked what it was and he said, ‘Don’t you trust me?’ At least I wasn’t tied up that time. I pulled the blindfold off and he had a knife, a fancy stainless steel kind of thing, almost like a scalpel. I couldn’t believe it. I jumped up out of the bed and all I could think about was covering myself. I pulled the sheet off and I screamed at him and I told him that he was a sick son of a bitch.

  “He acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He wasn’t concerned or upset or angry—nothing. I left. For real. I moved out and I was going to divorce him. But Evan made it his business to win me back. He apologized and swore he’d change. He promised to go to counseling. You know the drill, I’m sure. This is where the stupid part comes in.” She nodded toward his notebook. “You’re not writing.”

  Jack shook his head, as if trying to wake himself up from a bad dream. “Jesus.”

  “Yeah. You want to know the really weird thing?”

  “I’m afraid to ask.”

  Corie felt as if a knot in her stomach had suddenly unraveled. “I feel better having told someone. That surprises me.”

  “Corie . . .” Jack cleared his throat.

  “I thought homicide detectives were tough. Surely you’ve heard worse stories than this?”

  “I have. Ice time again. Let me hold it for you.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” She thought of the yearbook. To the prettiest girl in the entire school. Not so pretty now, was she?

  Then Brice’s face flashed through her mind. This wasn’t about her. This was for him. She said she’d do whatever it took to help find her friend’s killer and she meant it.

  Jack pressed the ice gently against the sore spot and, when he did, his fingertips brushed her hair. He misinterpreted her shiver. “You really don’t like having the ice on your face, do you?”

  “You notice everything, don’t you?”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “Occupational hazard.”

  “It’s very annoying.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  She wanted to ask by whom, but she didn’t. He probably wouldn’t answer anyway. “I hate him, Jack.”

  “Don’t think about it right now.”

  “I don’t know why I tried to protect Evan. I think I was just trying to hold everything together. God knows why. I don’t want any of it. Do you know what my mother told me earlier today?”

  “What’s that?” Jack, with
those slim, graceful fingers, held the pack carefully, as if her head were an eggshell.

  “That I don’t realize how lucky I am.”

  Chapter 25

  “Evan?” The word was a question, her voice soft, no panic yet. Corie had dozed off and, for a confused moment, thought she was back in her own house, back in time, and Evan had come into their bedroom. His presence was so familiar that, for a split second, it felt perfectly ordinary. Then she remembered she was in the hospital and Evan wasn’t supposed to be there.

  Jack heard. Faster than she thought possible he was out of the chair. The two dark forms merged, blended, and their feet squeaked on the linoleum floor as they fought. Corie heard grunting. Something metallic crashed to the floor. She groped for the light.

  Jack had a look on his face that scared her. His first punch backed Evan up away from the bed and he followed quickly with a second to the gut. As Evan doubled over, Jack grabbed Evan’s right arm and twisted it back in a way that looked like it must hurt a lot. With his left hand behind Evan’s head. Jack slammed him into the wall. Jack seemed to be enjoying himself. “Scrubs, Evan? Really?”

  Evan had worn a disguise. He didn’t come to the hospital as her husband but as something else entirely. Corie wasn’t fighting but she still was breathing hard.

  “I’m allowed to see my wife. Corie, are you all right?”

  “The fuck you care.” Jack reached for Evan’s left arm and yanked it back brutally for the handcuffs. Then he spun him so roughly towards the door that Evan’s face smashed into the jamb. Jack didn’t have a mark on him and he wasn’t even out of breath.

  Evan laughed. “Keep it up, Detective. The worse I look, the more it will cost you.” Blood appeared under his nose.

  Unconcerned, Jack looked over at her. “If you’ll excuse me, Corie, I have to take out the trash.”

  Corie held Jack’s gaze for a long moment. Who was this man? Who were either of them?

  The look was not lost on her husband and Evan spoke as if he were the wronged party. “Very touching. But the real question, Jack, is what are you doing in my wife’s hospital room? Because she is still my wife. You have overstepped your bounds and I will make you pay.”

  Jack opened the door.

  Evan froze on the threshold. “I insist on speaking to Corie. I need to know that she’s all right. Corie, tell him. Tell him you understand.”

  Jack was having none of it. “Visiting hours are over.” He shoved Evan ahead of him into the hall.

  And they were gone, just like that. It hadn’t taken five minutes. Other than Evan’s name, Corie hadn’t said a word. Tell Jack she understood? Understood what? She sat for a long time, her mouth hanging open, staring at the door.

  Chapter 26

  Jack’s phone woke him from a sound sleep at seven thirty the next morning.

  “There’s someone here who says he has information about the Shaughnessy murder,” the dispatcher said.

  Jack felt like crap and fought to clear the cobwebs. He couldn’t seem to get enough sleep lately. “Be there in forty.”

  He dragged himself under a hot shower, leaned his forehead against the cold tile, and tried his best not to feel sorry for himself. He had to get it together. He shaved and dressed and started to feel a little more human. A large coffee from a drive-through helped.

  At headquarters, a nervous young man waited in the reception area. Alex Cantrell was clean-shaven, twenty-one years old, and a senior at the University of Denver. The same school where Brice and Corie took their class. He jumped up when Jack introduced himself and stuck out his hand. The young man wore flip-flops, baggy khaki shorts, and a black t-shirt.

  Jack led him upstairs into an interview room. “I really appreciate you coming in.”

  Alex nodded, then sat down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw it on the news. Couldn’t sleep after that. I was up all night deciding what to do. I checked it out on the web to make sure I heard right, and it was the same dude.”

  “Brice’s body was discovered early Thursday morning. It’s Saturday. Why the delay in going to the police?”

  “I was up in the mountains with some friends so I didn’t see it on the news until last night. It—I had no reason to think anything would happen to Brice. I don’t talk to him that often.”

  “How did you know Brice?”

  “I met him at school, at DU. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.” Alex kept leaning back, then sitting bolt upright again; he didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands.

  Jack had run a quick background check before retrieving him from reception. Alex had no record and was a straight A student. He tried to put the young man at ease. “What I need you to do is answer my questions the best you can. If you’re truthful we can get you cleared pretty quickly. Sound good?”

  “Whatever you need.”

  “Appreciate it. How long had you known Brice?”

  “Couple of months. We went for a beer a few times.” Alex named a bar near the school.

  “You ever go over his house before?”

  Alex looked down, clasped and reclasped his hands. “That was the first time.”

  “How did you wind up going to visit Brice Wednesday night?” Jack asked.

  “He wanted to know if I could help him get some stuff.” Alex hesitated, then reluctantly met Jack’s eyes. “Am I going to be in trouble?”

  “For what?”

  “We smoked some weed.”

  Jack almost smiled. “I’m homicide, Alex. Not my department.”

  Alex nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I uh, found some of what Brice was interested in, so I texted and he said come on over. He didn’t pay me or anything. We were gonna party.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Around ten. Wait, I can tell you exactly.” Alex checked his phone, then looked up proudly. “Ten thirteen.”

  “Tell me about what happened when you went over to Brice’s house.”

  Alex shrugged. “We hung out. Brice smoked. Is it okay to tell you that? I was mostly interested in the wine.”

  Now Jack allowed himself a smile. “I saw the glass by the bed.”

  More nodding. “Yeah. I drank a bunch of wine. He snatched a bottle of some really good stuff.”

  “The Petrus.” They’d found the bottle on the kitchen counter. The set of prints lifted from it might now have an owner.

  “That stuff’s like a thousand a bottle.” Alex appeared excited, then crestfallen again. “Brice said the people he rented from were really rich. But nice. He said they wouldn’t mind, that he was tight with the wife. And then, you know, you saw the bed. I hung for a while. Brice was cool. It’s lousy what happened to him.”

  “You see anyone else while you were over there?”

  A shake of the head. “Uh-uh.”

  “What time did you leave?”

  “I was home by around two thirty.”

  “Can anyone corroborate that?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, totally. My roommates. I share a house with three other people. One of them was still up studying.” He gave Jack an address on South Gilpin Street, a couple of blocks from the university.

  After he left, Jack thought about what this did to the timeline. If Alex did indeed leave Brice alive at two a.m.—and Jack would get a detective working on confirming Alex’s story—then it fit with the theory that Brice was killed around dawn. Alex had willingly agreed to give DNA and fingerprints. But then so had Evan. Jack would get Tiffany on this ASAP and, in the meantime, see what he could shake loose from Len.

  Chapter 27

  Evan spoke to a judge’s image on a TV screen, playing his best, contrite self. Video advisement got him out of jail bright and early Saturday morning; judges didn’t like their weekends ruined any more than anyone else. Stu stood by his side, a slouching, gray lump, and let Evan do most of the talking.

  Evan wasn’t, as Jack had threatened, charged with attempted murder. Evan’s record was spotless and
his family well-known in the community. The charge was reduced over the prosecutor’s strenuous objections to simple domestic violence. For the moment, Evan wasn’t allowed near Corie and he required a police escort to go home and get his things, but he was free. Imagining Jack’s reaction to the news made Evan happy.

  “What are you smiling about?” Stu looked over at Evan as they walked outside. “How was it? Did you manage to get some sleep?”

  Stu sounded worried and Evan was impatient. People dwelt far too much on the past and their feelings and what may or may not happen. “Did you bring my car?”

  Stu proceeded to nag as he trailed behind Evan like a lost puppy dog. There was a lot to go over. They needed to review the case. What did Evan want to do about Vangie? Was Corie serious about the divorce? Did the business need to be restructured?

  They reached Evan’s Mercedes, which Stu had braved the police to fetch from the underground garage at the hotel. Evan opened the door. “Did you get gas?”

  But Stu wouldn’t let it go. “We really need to talk, Evan.”

  “You really sound like my wife, Stu. Only I don’t want to fuck you.”

  “We should go over Ms. Perez’s defense, too.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” Stu blinked at Evan as if the question had stumped him.

  “The further away I stay from Ms. Perez the better.”

  “You mean you’re not going to see her now?”

  Evan made an impatient motion with his hand. “Move on. I let her use my cabin last night to get out of the spotlight. But I made it clear it was for one night only. She should be gone by now.”

  “What do you mean, gone?” Stu’s voice rose in alarm. “In my car?”

  “Have you reported it stolen yet?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you can follow instructions. You’re not out one red cent and filing the police report covers your ass. I can’t believe I paid a hundred grand for a car. An American car no less. Eww.” Evan shuddered. “That price better include quite a few hours of your time as well.”

  “I liked that car. And I still don’t think—”