by Merit Clark
Jack felt utterly at a loss for words. “What?”
“I was business and murder was pleasure. That’s what he meant on the stairs.”
“Corie.”
He reached for her but she leaned back, away from him. “Evan loved my hair. He used to run his fingers through it and tug at it. He’ll never do that again. He’ll never touch me again. He’ll never lay a hand on anyone. Either you lock him up or, I swear to God, the next time I lay eyes on him I’ll kill him.”
Chapter 60
Jack hated leaving Corie alone. They made the same agreement as yesterday—hourly phone calls—and when she walked him to the door, Jack gave her a soft, careful kiss, as if she were made out of spun glass. He wrapped her gently in his arms, rested his cheek on the top of her head for a moment, and breathed in her scent. He didn’t want to let go of her but what choice did he have?
She said, “Do what you need to do. I’ll be fine.”
He said, “Yeah, where have I heard that before?” But he smiled at her fondly, drew a line with his index finger along her jaw, and touched the short, spiky hair. “Be careful.”
“Funny. I was going to say the same thing to you.”
She closed the door behind him and he waited until he heard the reassuring click of the deadbolt sliding home.
On his way to the station Jack stopped at Aranda’s condo, but there was no sign of her. Now seriously worried, he decided to issue a BOLO. He could be overreacting, and if it turned out she was fine he’d apologize. If she wasn’t . . . He couldn’t think about it. Not now.
In Dani’s office Jack presented everything he had, including Vangie’s updated autopsy results, to Assistant District Attorney Hayden Tafro. It was hard to keep the excitement out of his voice. As usual, he stood while he presented, and today he also paced.
It was unusual to see Hayden in jeans and boots. Usually she wore expensive suits and high heels. Hayden was young and she was ambitious.
“Three murders is the threshold for a serial killer,” Dani said. “If he’s killed in multiple states it goes federal.”
Hayden sat back in one of Dani’s visitor chairs and stretched her long legs out in front of her. “Yep. I’ve already given Special Agent Rogers in the Denver FBI field office a heads up.”
Jack ran a hand through his hair and blew out a sharp breath. He looked at Hayden. “Do we have enough to make an arrest? Or do you want to wait on the Feds to tie up all the loose ends for you?” He didn’t intend to antagonize her, but he felt an almost unbearable sense of urgency.
“I want a conviction.” Hayden picked up a coffee container off of Dani’s desk and took a drink. She didn’t seem the least bit excited or irritated. “Your main witness is a meth addict who I don’t want to put on the stand. Everything else is circumstantial.”
“Time of death isn’t.” Attempting to mirror her calm demeanor, Jack forced himself to stop pacing and took a sip of his own coffee.
“Ugh.” Hayden made a dismissive sound. “It was below freezing outside. After Vangie was killed, her body was riding around in the back of a pickup exposed to the elements for an undetermined amount of time. It’ll be dueling experts and Markham has the money to hire the very best. Any idea where Evan is? Considering his status in the community, it’d be better for everyone to work this out quietly.”
“Let’s send him an engraved invitation. If he hears jail is black tie, he’ll present himself with alacrity.”
Hayden answered coolly. “Sarcasm doesn’t help anything, Jack. I know you’re frustrated but we’ll only have one chance at this guy. I want to have enough that he’s denied bail. You know I’m right. It wouldn’t matter if the judge said ten million dollars, Evan would pay it.”
“What about the necklace?” Jack had written a list of evidence on the whiteboard in Dani’s office. He walked over and tapped it for emphasis. “A necklace engraved with the letters YH—the initials of one of the murdered victims. Come on, Hayden, do you want me to gift wrap this for you?”
Hayden glanced at the detective’s room through the window in Dani’s office. “Let’s see what they have.”
Mike and Serena were back from executing the search warrant at Evan’s mystery office, accompanied by a uniform pushing a hand truck loaded with boxes. Dani and Jack followed Hayden. Detectives Scalamandre and Warren joined them.
Warren looked at the boxes and whistled. “We’re not going anywhere for a while.”
“Finding a judge to sign a warrant in a blizzard was no easy task,” Serena said.
“Blizzard’s over,” Jack said. “What a bunch of wimps. You find all the tax records?”
Serena unwound a burgundy wool scarf from around her neck. “Uh-huh. Had to persuade the property manager of the office complex to brave the roads and open the outer office door for us. Apparently Evan’s receptionist took a snow day.”
“Everything was still there.” Mike wore a parka over his suit and a fur-lined hat with ear flaps that fastened under his chin.
“Nice hat,” Jack said. “I don’t understand why you can’t get a date.”
“Hey, it’s cold out there,” Mike said.
Serena watched Mike pull off the hat and run his hand over his bald head. “Lucky you don’t have to worry about hat hair.”
“You oughta try it,” Mike said. “Helps if you have a pretty head.”
Jack stared at the boxes and thought about what they implied. “I think we’re lucky it snowed. Maybe that deterred Markham from clearing the office out.”
“Do you think Evan knows Corie was there?” Serena asked.
“Corie’s sense was that the receptionist was gonna call him,” Jack said.
“We know where Corie is?” Mike asked. “She could be in danger.”
“She’s someplace safe.” The other detectives didn’t ask Jack to elaborate, just like they hadn’t mentioned his being AWOL the night before.
“So what’s our plan?” Mike asked.
“Hayden here thinks he’s going to come to us all polite and contrite, hat in hand, tail between his legs, and issue a formal apology,” Jack said. “All we have to do is wait.”
Hayden pulled a binder out of a box and riffled the pages. “I said it would be best. I didn’t say we were going to sit around on our asses. Hopefully you’ll find something useful in here for me.”
Jack knew getting excited wouldn’t get him anywhere with her. “Look, Hayden, I understand your caution. I respect it. But while Evan’s out there, women are at risk. I’m worried about his wife. I’m worried about his mother. I haven’t been able to get a hold of Aranda Sheffield since yesterday and—”
“Aranda’s missing?” Hayden’s voice sharpened, betraying emotion for the first time.
Jack told her about the strange voice mail, how he’d tried several times to call Aranda, and that she hadn’t been seen at home or at work.
“I know Aranda,” Hayden said. “We’re in a women’s wine tasting group together. Under ordinary circumstances I’d say she’s most likely in Aspen with some hottie sipping Veuve Cliquot, but she fits the profile. You convinced me, Jack. Do it. Bring Evan in. We have someone in imminent danger and, besides, why should the Feebs have all the fun?”
Chapter 61
Serena watched Jack with narrowed eyes. “You look like you feel better.”
“I finally have a mission. I’m going to arrest this psychotic son of a bitch before anyone else and, more importantly, before he gets to anybody else.” Jack turned to Dani. “I’m heading back to the jail. I have to clarify a few things with Len Funderburk.”
“Want me to go with you?” Serena asked.
“No. I need all of you to start going through these.” Jack indicated the boxes. “Corie’s already found receipts that put Evan in Charlotte the day of Monique Lawson’s murder, and in Philadelphia for a second. She’s got suspicions about a third in Atlanta.”
“How’s Corie holding up, knowing all that?” Scalamandre asked.
“
About how you’d think.” Jack remembered her white face watching him leave through the glass panes in his back door. “Start with those three victims. Put together a timeline of Evan’s travel and compare it to unsolved murders fitting the same pattern in VICAP. So far this is all circumstantial. As I pointed out to Corie, a lot of men were in Philadelphia the day Yvonne Harris was killed. We need physical evidence. If,” Jack was careful to emphasize the word, “Evan is responsible for these killings, they’re messy, violent, personal. The victims fight. They might not have gotten his DNA from the scene in Charlotte, but if he’s done this more than once, he’s bound to have screwed up somewhere. I’m getting his DNA run through CODIS, see if anything else pops.”
“Doesn’t make sense that Evan gave us his DNA so willingly,” Serena said.
“It wasn’t willing,” Dani said. “We had a warrant. Not giving it to us would have raised a red flag and Evan’s too smart for that.”
“I think he took a calculated risk,” Jack said. “I’ll be back from the jail as soon as I can.”
“How good a witness is Len?” Mike asked. “You think he’s telling the truth?”
“Let’s just say Len didn’t do anything to increase my suspicions,” Jack said. “And his story checks out. He did have his license suspended. He had DUIs. He worked for her grandfather. Everything I can check out checks out.
“I called Lassiter in Charlotte. It’s a long shot, but he’s going to the restaurant where Monique went on her date, which is still in business. See if anyone’s around who was working there fifteen years ago. Gonna show them Evan’s pictures.”
“And then there’s Brice Shaughnessy,” Dani said. “That doesn’t fit Evan’s profile.”
“And then there’s Brice.” Jack weighed one of the Day-Timer binders in his hand and looked at the other detectives. “Killed, so far as we’ve been able to determine, by Vangie Perez, who I’m convinced did Evan’s bidding. Markham thinks we can’t touch him. Let’s prove him wrong.”
Chapter 62
Corie slipped into her customary parking spot next to Jessie’s garage. “Slipped” being the operative word. The side streets and alleys hadn’t been touched by a snowplow and Corie was grateful for her car’s all-wheel drive. She stood in the cold, hugging herself and admiring the Markham mansion for a minute. Evan thought the large, brick house was old-fashioned and way too big for Jessie, but his mother refused to consider moving. Corie admired Jessie for that. She admired Jessie for a lot of things.
Through a lot of troubled times in Corie’s life—Vi’s drinking, her parents’ divorce, and all the assorted traumas of high school—Jessie had always been there. Jessie listened to her, even when Corie was a child. Jessie comforted her after Hennessy died, when Corie was torn up with guilt and confusion. Jessie even seemed to understand about Evan and how difficult he was to be married to. She was perceptive, warm, and generous. So opposite her son.
The information Corie had uncovered would destroy Jessie. So while Corie felt sick to her stomach about lying to Jack, when Jessie called and asked Corie to come over, she didn’t hesitate. Besides, if she stayed holed up in his house with nothing to do but think, she’d go crazy.
Outside the kitchen Corie stamped her feet to warm them and knock off snow. Then she slid open one of the atrium doors and called for her mother-in-law.
“There you are.” Jessie was wearing a fuzzy sweater the color of the sea. Her smile faltered for only a second when she saw Corie’s hair. Corie walked into Jessie’s arms and her mother-in-law touched the chopped off remnants tenderly.
“Good for you,” Jessie said.
Corie hid her face against Jessie’s soft shoulder. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry. “It’s hideous.”
When Corie stepped back, Jessie was smiling. “Your other hair was too conservative. Change is always freeing. Always.”
Corie tried to smile back. “You look nice and cozy.”
“Are you cold? You’re shivering.” Jessie rubbed Corie’s upper arms. “Come over by the fire.”
“I’m fine. I’m worried about you.” Wood-burning fireplaces were all but extinct in Denver and pollution laws dictated what and when you could burn. But Jessie said she was going for a “Tuscan farmhouse” effect and she got it.
Jessie walked to the counter, picked up some dishes, and placed them on the low, rough-hewn wooden table in front of the fire. “I thought we could have a late lunch. Nothing fancy. I figured you likely haven’t been eating regularly with everything going on.”
Corie detected no trace of irony in Jessie’s voice. She seemed the same as always: warm, generous, nonjudgmental. How could Jessie be so nice to her after everything that had happened? How could Corie stand to lose her love?
“It’s nothing much. Some soup and bread.” Jessie poured two large glasses of white wine and handed one to Corie.
Corie took the glass gratefully. “You’re a saint.” She thought Jessie looked like a saint too, with that patient smile and her halo of golden curls.
Jessie set a bowl of soup in front of Corie.
“I’m glad you called. You know how I feel about you.” Her stomach was sour from last night, but to cover her discomfort, Corie took a healthy swallow of the wine anyway. She was becoming a drunk as well as a liar.
“I don’t want to lose you too, Corie.” Jessie shook out a terracotta-colored napkin and draped it across her lap.
“Thank you.” Corie felt utterly at a loss for words in the face of Jessie’s incredible generosity. She took a second gulp of wine and tried a spoonful of soup, to be polite.
“It’s gotten cold all of a sudden. But I like days like this. It makes it that much more warm and cozy to curl up by the fire. It’s all about contrasts, don’t you think?”
What an odd thing to say. And how strangely accurate. It was certainly a contrast being here in this beautiful house, drinking wine in front of a blazing fire, after what Corie had so recently discovered. It made no sense. But Corie couldn’t think about it right now. Jessie was reaching out and that was like a miracle. It was one thing to marry a murderer. Imagine if you’d given birth to one?
Corie nibbled at a piece of bread and took another sip. “I think you’re right.”
Jessie topped off Corie’s glass. “Are you sure you like this wine? It’s Italian. I don’t know much about Italian wines.”
“I like it but maybe I shouldn’t have any more.” A wave of dizziness hit Corie and her face felt flushed. She squinted into the fire, trying to focus.
“What’s happening?” Jessie watched her with concern.
“A little dizzy.”
Jessie’s voice was indulgent. “It’s because you haven’t been eating. Why don’t you lie down after lunch?”
“How embarrassing.” Corie put a hand on the table to feel something solid. She felt like she was crumbling.
“So much pain.” Jessie’s voice was soothing. “You’ve been incredibly wrong.”
Corie closed her eyes and opened them again. She couldn’t be drunk already. Jessie didn’t say ‘wrong.’ She said ‘strong.’ Didn’t she? “Maybe I should drink some water. Oh.” Corie tried to stand and found she couldn’t. She plopped back down in the chair.
Jessie laughed. “I’ll get you some water, but first I think a little more wine.”
Corie took the glass from her outstretched hand. Although it didn’t make any sense, she drank. What could it hurt? She was already dizzy and Jessie was being so nice.
“That’s good.”
Jessie smiled and Corie suddenly realized it looked a lot like Evan’s. Why hadn’t Corie noticed it before? They had the same smile. The same even white teeth. Like the Cheshire Cat. No. Something far more evil. Corie tried to set the wineglass back on the table but she missed.
“Always making messes messes messes.” But Jessie was still smiling.
The room was spinning. “Jessie, what was in that wine?”
“. . . messes for someone else to clean up
up up . . .”
Jessie stood and looking up at her made the room spin worse. Corie went to put her hand on the table again but it moved. Or maybe she moved.
“Corie. You’re too emotional. As I tell Evan, it’s best not to dwell. Best to be Zen about these things. It’s all a journey.”
Jessie had been speaking but Corie hadn’t followed everything. What was wrong with her?
“Have you ever been in a labyrinth?” Jessie’s voice echoed strangely.
“One now.” Corie felt like she was in some kind of sick ‘pin the tail on the donkey’ game, all spun around. Someone ripped the blindfold off and she didn’t know which way to go.
“It’s all a journey, Corie, don’t be afraid.”
Jessie’s voice was melodic, soothing, so beautiful. There was a golden haze behind her. The dining room light? Was she still at Jessie’s house? What was happening? “Jessie?”
“I’m here.”
Corie remembered her purse. Something was in it that she needed. But it was so far away. At the end of a tunnel.
Jessie’s laugh was like silver. No, like a mirror, shattering into a million sparkling pieces. Corie’s eyelids drooped. She had to stay awake. She had to make it to her purse.
“Where are you going?” The sound came from very far away. “What’s wrong? It shouldn’t hurt.”
It was like being at the bottom of a barrel filled with water. Voices. Echoing. Laughter. The water tugged her down. Corie’s last thought: Is the entire family insane?
Chapter 63
“You ever hear of a restaurant named Marchianos?” Jack asked.
“Oh God, yes.” Len sat up straight and his voice rose angrily. “This is like a bad dream. I told those damned detectives! I told them that Monique had been talking about going to that restaurant on a date. She was really excited about it because it was a new restaurant and really hard to get a reservation. She was bragging about it at work.”