by Debra Webb
“That guy, Novak.”
“Yeah.” The newest addition to Mac’s I-wanna-pound-him list.
“His body was found in Central Park about an hour ago.”
The tangle of scenarios and possibilities fighting for attention in Mac’s thoughts stopped dead. “You’re sure it’s him.”
“Brannigan’s partner ID’d him.”
Mac let go a heavy breath. “I’m on my way.”
“Wait” Duncan said before he could hang up. “You haven’t heard the most bizarre part.”
Mac braced himself for cause of death details. He always hated that part although those were the very details that gave an investigator the most information about the killer.
“The ME called your office this morning. It seems he found a match to the DNA evidence collected from the female victims in the Socialite case.”
Before Duncan continued Mac was certain it had to be Novak, even though he wasn’t sure how the ME had run across a DNA workup on Novak unless he’d been previously entered into CODIS under an alias.
“Remember all the DNA evidence that had to be checked out from Harrison’s apartment? Well, Harrison’s DNA had to be cross-matched to eliminate body hair, etc.”
“Get to the point, Duncan.” Mac was getting impatient here. He knew the drill. It had to be Novak.
“Well, the specimen in the first two victims was a match. The last two aren’t completed yet, of course.”
“A match to whom?” Mac snarled. Dammit, why didn’t he just spit it out?
“To Harrison,” Duncan said “the DNA in both murders is a perfect match to Dr. Ned Harrison.”
Chapter Eleven
Elizabeth stood numbly by as MacBride spoke quietly to the caller. She was afraid to even imagine what had happened now. But it was surely bad. The tone of his voice left no doubt. Cold, flat. Whatever news he’d just received, it was not something he’d wanted to hear.
Elizabeth thought of her friend. MacBride had people watching her, but what about Gloria? She needed protection, too. She remembered what Annabelle had said that morning. Four more. Four more female patients she had reason to believe had carried on a personal relationship with Ned. Two of whom were Gloria and Elizabeth. Her nerves twisted a little tighter. What if that was what the call was about? What if another victim had been found?
MacBride ended the conversation. As he dropped his phone back into his pocket, she told herself she had no choice but to trust him. The suspicions Annabelle had offered were relevant to the case. Elizabeth had come clean with him about everything else that happened last night and he’d listened. He’d covered her hand with his own, comforting her. She should tell him this part, too. She warned that more vulnerable part of herself not to read too much into his comforting gesture, but she just couldn’t help it. She was drawn to him, seriously drawn to him. Somehow the attraction went beyond the physical.
Right, Elizabeth. You’re doing it again. Falling for the wrong guy. One who probably felt nothing for you but sympathy.
But he felt something. Elizabeth had noticed the way he looked at her, had seen the hunger in his eyes. She saw the emotion in his eyes as he turned to face her now. There was a dread, not at seeing her, but at telling her the news he’d just received. Why would he care how it affected her if he didn’t feel something for her? He’d rescued her from Brian even after she’d given the guy watching her the slip. MacBride had likely sensed where she would go when the other man hadn’t had a clue. He was tuned in to her on a very elemental level. Or maybe he’d simply had someone watching Ned’s office as he’d claimed. A good thing, too, whatever the case.
She felt reasonably sure that Brian would have come after her if he hadn’t seen MacBride outside with her. Brian had clearly snapped out of the dazed state the whack on the head had sent him into and managed to slip away unseen. Tracking her down wouldn’t have been a problem for him—except that MacBride had been watching over her. Like a guardian angel.
He moved toward her now, drawing her full attention back to the moment. Those intense blue eyes were guarded, which made her even more nervous. “Novak didn’t mention talking to anyone else or expecting to meet with anyone else last night?” he asked, his words uncharacteristically measured.
A tendril of trepidation coiled inside her. They were back to Brian again. “No.” Where was he going with this? “I don’t know where he went afterward. He... he didn’t call or anything.” A burst of irritation chased away the trepidation. “I’d have had a few things to say to him if I’d heard from him.” She was sick to death of being vulnerable—to MacBride or anyone else. Annabelle’s theory nudged her again, shaking her newly found bravado.
“I’m not accusing you of anything, Elizabeth,” Mac said more softly as he came nearer still. “But there’s been another development and we need to know if Novak mentioned meeting or speaking to anyone else.”
Development? A chill raced over her. He meant another murder. “Who’s dead?” Her voice gave away the fear building so fast she could hardly think much less breathe. “Don’t try to hide anything from me, MacBride,” she added with surprising strength.
He touched her. Placed his hand on her arm, nothing complicated or serious, just a touch. But the feelings the gesture engendered were entirely serious.
“Novak is dead. His body was found in Central Park a little while ago.”
Mac hadn’t wanted to tell her like this, but she’d limited his options. She needed to know what was going on.
“How?” Her chin quivered ever so slightly and it was all he could do not to take her fully into his arms.
“I can’t answer that for you just yet. But considering the speed with which these murders are occurring, I’d like to place you into protective custody for your own safety.”
Fear, followed quickly by uncertainty, danced across her face. “I can’t. I have to work.”
“Elizabeth, it would be best—”
“Is someone watching Gloria, too?” she demanded.
Mac’s worry began to manifest itself in an annoying ache behind his eyes. “Brannigan has one of his men keeping an eye on her, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Her eyes glittered. “I want to know if someone is watching her every minute of the day and night.”
He wondered if shock was setting in. She’d gone from wanting to know how Novak was killed to whether or not Gloria Weston was being protected. The way she demanded a more precise response after he’d already given her an answer made him wonder if there was something more he should know. “Are you trying to tell me something, Elizabeth?”
A tremor went through her. “Annabelle has a theory. The murders,” she cleared her throat of the emotion thickening there, “have occurred in alphabetical order. Bumbalough, Dell, Fowler, Landon. Annabelle thinks there are approximately four others she can pinpoint as having had a sexual relationship with Ned. Gloria and I are among those four. She thinks he won’t stop until... we’re all dead.”
Mac had already suggested to Brannigan and his newly formed task force that the killer might be working in a nonrandom manner. The only difference in Mac’s theory was that, judging by the number of videos they’d found in Harrison’s apartment, there were a lot more than only four more potential victims.
“All the more reason for you to go into protective custody,” he suggested, keeping the numbers to himself. The alphabetical theory had been shot down to an extent, anyway, when the Landon woman was found. The killer had skipped over at least three names between Fowler and Landon—names that went with videos they had found. Beyond the bypassing of former patients, they’d discovered no rhyme or reason for why some were skipped.
She shook her head. “I have to finish this job.” She looked directly at him, the urgency in her manner relaying just how important this was. “It can’t wait. Boomer will be with me.”
“And who wouldn’t be comforted by that?” Mac said dryly, regretting it the instant the words escaped.
“Look,” Elizabeth said hotly, “I know you don’t like him, but he’s a good guy and I can depend on him.”
Therein lay the crux of the matter, Mac realized. Elizabeth Young had been let down by too many people in her life. Her mother, her fiancé, her brother-in-law, even her father, who’d left her all alone when he died, and finally by her shrink. Trust didn’t come easily to her. Being able to count on someone would mean a great deal to her. Even if it was an ex-con punk like Boomer.
“You’re right,” he admitted to her obvious surprise. “I want you to know that you can depend on me, as well. I’ll see that someone is keeping an eye on Gloria.”
Not bothering to hide her amazement, she murmured, “Thank you.”
“I’m going to trust you with something, Elizabeth,” Mac told her, only now making the decision to offer the information. “The Gentlemen’s Association is why I’m here. These guys are nasty business. They’re deep into Internet porn, mostly pretty young women like you, but some even younger. They have to be stopped. Harrison was my only bona fide connection. Novak was a close runner-up. Now they’re both gone.” He cranked up the intensity of his gaze, hoping to relay the utter desperation he felt. “I have to nail these guys, Elizabeth. I don’t want anyone else hurt the way you were. I need evidence. Something. Anything to bring these guys down.”
“The secret door,” she said softly. “I know where it is.”
Mac inspected the loft where Elizabeth and Boomer would be working today. He’d stationed Duncan in the corridor just outside the door and given him orders not to leave Elizabeth under any circumstances. Boomer, after a show of belligerence toward Mac’s orders, had calmed down and told Mac in no uncertain terms that nothing would happen to Elizabeth while she was with him.
Mac didn’t want to leave her. Dammit, he had a job to do, and still he didn’t want to go. Apparently it had taken only one kiss to skew his judgment completely.
As he pointed his sedan in the direction of midtown, he forced his attention back to the case. The hidden room had proved to be the break he’d been hoping for. The room was completely sealed, shielded from any sort of detection. Harrison had covered every base. The room was totally self-sufficient and separate from the rest of his office. The power feed and telephone lines were split from a neighboring system, that of a legitimate business with nine-to-five operating hours. Never in a million years would that system have been checked. No one, not even Mac, would have thought of that. The lines weren’t connected to Ned Harrison in any way. Running lights and a few electronics wouldn’t constitute enough of a draw to alert the other business that it was being systematically robbed.
This provided new insight into the way others in the Association were probably getting away with their sinister deeds without being caught.
An entire forensics team was at this very moment going over the room. The elaborate computer system would likely hold all the evidence they would need to lead them to others.
Mac should be back there himself, but first he had to see Brannigan. They needed to discuss this latest turn of events. There had to be a reasonable explanation for Harrison’s DNA turning up at the crime scenes. Harrison was dead. Mac had viewed the body, read the autopsy.
A theory churned in the back of his mind, but first he wanted to hear Brannigan’s take.
Since the detective was still at the crime scene, Mac parked near the entrance to the walking zoo. The body had been found next to a park bench where pigeons hung out hoping to be fed by the numerous daily visitors. He wondered if the location was significant. Maybe someone thought Novak had talked.
Five minutes later Mac stood next to Brannigan as the ME’s office took away the body. The autopsy would be needed for confirmation, though it appeared Novak had been bludgeoned to death. The irony that Elizabeth had hit him on or near the temple wasn’t lost on Mac. According to the ME, time of death was possibly within mere hours of that of Marissa Landon. Even the location wasn’t that far away from the Landon apartment.
“No signs of struggle,” Brannigan said, then added dryly, “other than the pulp his head was beaten into.”
“You think someone just sneaked up on him out here in the dark?” Mac queried, not certain he agreed with that theory.
“His wallet is missing,” Brannigan said. “But it seems a little overkill for a simple robbery.”
Mac made an agreeable sound. “Whoever did this wanted to ensure he didn’t survive.”
“Well, that takes Novak off the suspect list.” Brannigan puffed out a weary breath. “I thought for sure he might be our man. Especially after he disappeared on us last night. It seems every time a murder has occurred, he managed to be AWOL.”
“What about the DNA connection to Harrison?” Mac asked, getting to the heart of the matter. “How’s forensics explaining that little quandary?”
“They’re checking to see if it had been refrigerated or frozen prior to finding its way inside our vics.” The older man shrugged, the movement calling attention to the poor fit of his jacket “Maybe Harrison had been storing up for a rainy day and somebody decided to use his stash to throw us off.”
Mac rubbed his chin, absently noting that he needed a shave. “We need to check into the brother,” he suggested. “We know Harrison is dead, there’s no question. And yes, someone could be planting the evidence. It isn’t impossible, but neither is the possibility that the dead brother isn’t dead. We haven’t seen his body for confirmation. Who’s to say the guy isn’t alive and well and seeking his vengeance for his brother’s death? We both believe Harrison was killed by a woman, so what if the brother believes it, as well? He can’t be sure which of the former lovers is guilty, so he takes them out one at a time, knowing eventually he’ll get the right one.”
“Hell, Nigel Harrison was supposed to have died four years ago,” Brannigan countered. “He’s buried in some hell hole down in Mexico. How the devil am I supposed to verify that he’s really dead? We damn sure can’t rely on any paperwork they send us. And if he’s alive, where the hell has he been all this time? No one I’ve interviewed even knew Dr. Harrison had a brother.”
“I want him exhumed,” Mac said grimly, fury pumping through him. “We’ve got four murder victims with Harrison’s DNA swimming around inside them.” The idea that Elizabeth could be next screamed at him. He clenched his jaw until he regained some semblance of self-control. When he’d investigated Harrison’s background months ago, he’d learned about the brother, but that detail hadn’t mattered—the brother was dead. But now they had reason to believe otherwise. Especially considering this latest turn of events.
“The brother’s an identical twin—he could have the same DNA structure. I want to know if the bastard is really dead or if he’s alive and avenging his brother’s death.” The whole scenario was different now.
“So we’re going ghost hunting now?” Brannigan mused, only half joking.
“Maybe,” Mac allowed, “but we’re not going to overlook that avenue just because we think it isn’t viable. I want to know.”
Brannigan shoved his hands into his trousers and ducked his head between his shoulders in an uncharacteristically humble manner. “Your people can get an order like that faster than I can. You know the chain of command I’m forced to work with.”
Mac reached for his cell. “I’ll take care of it” He hesitated before entering the necessary number. “If you’re not keeping Gloria Weston under surveillance twenty-four/seven, I think you should. Annabelle Ford, too.”
“We got someone watching the Weston woman twenty-four/seven. You think the mouthpiece needs surveillance, too?”
“She seems to know an awful lot.” Mac tried to pinpoint his reservations where Annabelle Ford was concerned, but couldn’t. “There’s something about her that nags at me.”
Brannigan scoffed. “She’s a freakin’ lawyer, ‘nough said.”
“Push the ME for DNA analysis on Novak, too,” Mac added as an afterthought “He’s about the same size
as Harrison was. A little more muscular, but the height is right. He could be the brother. Who knows? With the cosmetic-surgery possibilities out there today; it could be anyone with a similar build.”
Brannigan gave him a two-fingered salute and then strode in the direction of the ME’s van where Novak’s body was now safely ensconced. Mac stared at his cell phone for a second and considered that it would take some powerful influence to get this exhumation under way ASAP. He had a friend or two in D.C., so he might as well start there. Why bother with the bottom when he could start at the top?
~*~
Elizabeth paced the room again, stopping every few minutes to peek out the window. Agent Duncan was still there, watching her apartment. It was past seven and she was exhausted. She and Boomer had worked until six and had made a good deal of progress. By then she’d been so wired up thinking about all that had happened she’d had to call it a day. Boomer had offered to come stay with her, but with Duncan right outside she didn’t see the point. Besides, he probably had a date. Boomer always had a date.
She’d called Gloria to make sure she was at her sister’s, and she was. Elizabeth couldn’t help feeling hurt all over again as Brian’s words echoed through her. He had to have been lying. She refused to believe that Gloria would do that to her. Elizabeth closed her eyes and collapsed on the sofa. No matter that she’d firmly decided to put that behind her, it pushed to the forefront yet again.
Brian was dead.
No matter that he’d been a jerk who hurt her, she couldn’t help feeling bad that he was dead. No one deserved to die a violent death like that. She shuddered when she considered the last two men with whom she’d been involved had come to tragic ends. But then again, she doubted it had anything to do with her. Both had been deeply involved in very dangerous hobbies. A finger of dread slid down her spine ran when she thought of all she’d seen in that hidden room this morning.