by Unknown
“We’ve been a little busy.”
She handed him the sheet.
“Run these names again. I want photos of everyone, and information on all of them: names, birthdays, everything. This guy is good,” she said. “He might have an alias, or multiple aliases. Check if any of the men are war veterans.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Thompson complained.
“You look it up!” Avery yelled. “You go on the Internet and you type in the names and you do some goddamn research!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” O’Malley interjected. “Everybody just calm down. Listen to me,” he said to Avery. “You did a good job tonight. That guy matches everything—shoe size, approximate height, he wrote the letter and left it on your car. You had a long day. You’re not thinking clearly. Go home. Take a break. We’ll handle it from here.” He moved closer for emphasis. “Let it go,” he said.
Avery shook her head.
The ground seemed like it could open up and swallow her whole. Nothing felt right. O’Malley’s caring expression lacked belief. Thompson just wanted to go home. The rookie cop raised his eyes and practically whistled from boredom.
Finally, Avery gave voice to the fears that plagued her.
“I don’t believe this guy attended Boston University,” she said. “Do you believe he worked in a bookstore? He looks like an entry-level thug for a Hispanic mob. You should see some of his tattoos,” she snapped and stared right at O’Malley. “This might be one of Desoto’s men. I can’t let it go.”
O’Malley completely changed. His body tightened and his gaze turned dark and definitive. He pointed a finger in her chest.
“You will let it go,” he said. “You obviously don’t know what’s good for you, so I’m telling you: Great job today. You go home. Everyone’s going to be happy. But now, you’re off the case. Thompson can handle the rest. Enjoy your weekend.”
Impossible, she thought. There are too many unanswered questions.
“You can’t take me off the case,” she said. “It’s not over yet.”
“You’re off,” he yelled. “That’s it. Get out.”
“I can’t go.”
“You get out now or I’ll have you arrested!” he roared.
In a daze, utterly befuddled by his lack of vision and support, Avery shook her head and pushed past them all.
*
On the way home, Avery saw puzzle pieces drifting around in her mind, pieces that didn’t quite fit. She wanted them to fit—needed them to fit, for clarity and closure. Exhausted, she thought and rubbed her eyes. You’re exhausted. Just go to sleep. Take a nap. Do what O’Malley said: rest. Rest wasn’t an option.
She packed a bag at her apartment. She threw in the giant astrology book Davi had given her and headed out.
At the safe house, Sullivan was parked near the front in an unmarked car. She parked her own vehicle, headed over, and leaned in the window.
“I’ve got this,” she said. “Why don’t you come back in the morning. Say eight?”
“You sure?”
“I can’t let my daughter spend her first night in a safe house alone.”
“Not a problem.”
Rose was flipping through television channels when Avery entered. She looked up, very casual. Surprised registered at the sight of her mother’s disheveled state, then relief, before a guarded expression appeared and she lowered her eyes.
“What happened to you?” she said.
“Rough night,” Avery replied. “You need anything?”
“No.”
Avery nodded and headed to the back room. A few pillows were thrown on the unmade bed. She grabbed a blanket and settled in.
The huge astrology tome was called Everything Astrology. Apparently, they came out with a new version every year. The index had all twelve zodiac signs, as well as sections on important events, relationships, and specialized concepts like trines, aspects, nodes, and lots of other names Avery couldn’t understand.
She flipped right to the section on important events, expecting a moment of clarity, a symbol or sign that would make all the answers appear. None came. There seemed to be countless astrological happenings throughout the year.
June, she thought. This month.
In the month of June there was a list of events: Saturn squares Neptune, June 17th. Jupiter forms a positive aspect with Pluto on June 26th. Saturn retrograde, March through August. Chiron retrograde in June. Retrograde, she thought and looked it up. Retrograde means a planet appears to be moving backward, she read. Optical illusion. A planet’s power grows stronger. What does that mean? she wondered and read on: A planet’s power is augmented, so if it’s a war planet, count on more war.
She revisited the list.
New Moon, June 5th.
New Moon? Avery thought. That’s tomorrow night.
The next line read: Full moon—June 20th.
An index in the back had numerous listings for the word “mutable”: mutable cross, mutable houses, and mutable signs. She turned to the pages on mutable houses and learned that each of the twelve astrological signs lived in houses, and each house had its own meaning and feeling, like the money house or the house of social networking.
Her mind awhirl with gunshots and smoke and astrological concepts, Avery closed the book and closed her eyes. Nothing seemed to connect. She had a killer that possibly worked with the first victim and most likely took a class with the second. She had a facial sketch, approximate height and shoe size, and there was some astrology connection. Beyond that, it was all inferences: he was strong, big, possibly a war veteran or military man from the way he easily slipped from one kill to the next, and he was good, really, really good.
What if you’re wrong? she thought. What if these killings are random, if he’s just some guy from off the street with a grudge?
You’re not wrong, she fought. Don’t go down that road. It only leads to everything falling apart. Trust your instincts. Go with your gut.
Ramirez came to mind, but she couldn’t just pick up the phone and call him. He needs space, she reminded herself. The distance between them affected her in the small room. All alone, without a partner or a plan, she put a hand to her face and held back tears.
CHAPTER FORTY
Avery woke up early to have breakfast with Rose. The time together was strained. Rose ate quietly, and when she was done, Rose took her coffee and prepared to head to her room.
“Is this how it’s going to be from now on?” Avery asked.
“What do you mean?”
“This,” Avery said. “You ignoring me.”
Rose furrowed her brow.
“I’ve been trying to figure something out all night,” she said. “Our relationship. I know you wanted to help me yesterday. That’s why you came to my dorm and put me in this house. I have one question though: How is that different from anyone else? You’ve blown me off countless times for other people. Now you’re helping me. So, did you do this because I’m your daughter, or would you have done it for anyone?”
“I did this for you,” Avery said. “You’re my daughter. I love you.”
A blank stare was all Rose could offer.
“Did you call Dad? Does he know I’m here?”
Shit, Avery thought.
“I was going to call him. Last night was crazy.”
Rose pulled in her lips.
“I want to believe you, Mom. I want to believe you love me and that you’re trying to help me and you want to make this right. It’s just hard. Your actions don’t always line up with what you say. How can we have a relationship if I never feel there’s solid ground beneath my feet?”
Avery almost laughed.
Join the club, she thought.
Rose turned to head out of the room.
“Dad and I are close,” she added. “We talk all the time. Please call him. He’ll be worried if I’m not around.”
“I’ll call him today,” she swore.
Rose stared at her for a moment
, as if trying to see if Avery was telling the truth, before she headed back to her room.
In her car, Avery dialed Jack.
He picked up on the third ring.
“Avery,” he sighed. “What’s up?”
“I need you to stay calm and listen. Rose is in a safe house. The killer sent the station another letter. Rose’s birthday was on it. We went to her dorm room and there was evidence that he’d been there. She’s fine now.”
His reply was stern.
“Where is she?”
“I can’t give you a location over the phone.”
“The killer was after you, right? That’s why he targeted Rose?”
Shame spread on Avery’s face.
“That’s right.”
“I want to see her.”
“How about tonight? We’ll go to the house together.”
“I want to see her now. At lunch by the latest,” he demanded.
“I’m already out,” she replied. “It will have to be tonight.”
He cursed under his breath.
“Are you going to make me call your boss?”
Avery bristled at the threat.
“Rose wanted me to let you know she was all right. I’ve done that. You want to know anything else? Wait for my call.”
She hung up.
Angry. She was angry and tense and uneasy on the drive. My daughter hates me. My ex-husband hates me. My partner hates me. My boss just threw me off my case.
The distance she felt between herself and everyone in her life was a massive expanse.
Howard, she realized.
Only Howard Randall understood. He accepts me for who I am. He believes in me. A murderer. A psychotic killer. A prisoner. Her thoughts turned to the psychiatrist. Is there room in your life? For friends? Family? A lover?
I hope so, Avery prayed. I hope so.
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
Avery had to wait a lot longer than usual at the South Bay Corrections house to see Randall.
“What’s the hold-up?” she kept asking.
The woman behind the gates gave her the same pat answer.
“Someone will be with you in a minute.”
Avery skimmed through a few current magazines to keep herself occupied. The activity was strangely addictive. She remembered the days when she was a lawyer, heading to the beach in her five-hundred-dollar bikinis with Rose and Jack and a bunch of tabloids in tow. Jack hated that, she remembered, and so did Rose. Both of them always wanted your attention. You were always working so hard that any break from reality was a must.
At that moment, she realized what Rose and Jack had been trying to tell her over the last few days. Love meant giving up certain things for the happiness of others, and Avery had been very stingy in that department. Work was her life, and it always had been, from the moment she had bolted out of Ohio. But now, her life was barely a life, and the only way to fill it was to start giving up what she knew—the bottomless pit of her job—for what she wanted—a relationship with her daughter and possibly someone else.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Detective,” said one of the guards. He let her in and closed the door behind her. “Randall is in a lot of trouble. The warden said you could see him today, out of respect for the case you’re on, but afterwards, all of his visitors are cut off.”
“All of his visitors?”
“Yeah, he’s got a few.”
A few? Avery knew Randall had a personal life on the outside, two children and a bunch of extended family and friends, but since he’d been in prison? The idea made her feel slightly duped, and jealous. She thought she was the only one that came to see him.
“What did he do?”
“Fuckin’ guy is a wizard. Seriously. He has a whole group of followers in here. Call themselves Sons of Randall. They do whatever he wants. Earlier this week, we pulled in Carlos Desoto. You know him?”
Time stopped when Avery heard the name. She knew him, of course. He was the little brother of Juan Desoto who’d been in on the gang fight.
“No,” she said.
“It doesn’t matter,” the guard waved. “Carlos been in and out this joint for years. The Latinos keep him safe because he’s the little brother of some bigshot on the outside. Not so safe anymore. He’s not here for twenty-four hours when he gets gang-murdered by Randall’s followers. Randall swears he had nothing to do with it, but the warden has had enough. No more visitors for a while, and he’ll probably be in solitary for life.”
Randall was smug when Avery entered the small gray conference room.
“Hello, Avery.” He smiled.
“What did you do?” she whispered.
“Did you hear?”
“About Desoto? Yeah.”
“And how did it make you feel?”
The question startled her. In truth, it made her feel incredible and protected, but she was sickened by her own thoughts. He’d committed murder in her name.
“Why?” she asked. “Why did you do it?”
“The laws of the jungle are not much different from the laws of our world. Kill or be killed. An eye for an eye. You strike down one of my men, I strike down one of yours. Juan Desoto hurt you. Such a transaction cannot go unpunished.”
“You killed his brother!”
Randall raised a brow.
“And?”
“What do you think he’s going to do? Do you have any idea who he is? Juan Desoto is a legend on the outside. He’s connected to everyone. He’ll come after you.”
Randall’s old age and seemingly meek appearance flared for a moment, and Avery felt as if the spirit of a much younger man flexed and yearned to be free.
“What about you?” he said.
“What about me?”
“You said he’ll come after me. Aren’t you concerned about yourself?”
Avery let the question sink in.
A part of her was convinced that the man who tried kill her in the street was sent by Desoto. Maybe the letter was some kind of intimidation, or a cruel joke, she wasn’t sure, but his look and attitude harked to a hired thug, not an astrological mastermind. If Desoto had sent one man, he’d send another, and another. She’d humiliated him in his own house, in front of five others, and he wouldn’t stop until she’d been punished. But for some reason, Avery wasn’t worried about herself or her own possible death. All she could think about was Rose, and Jack, and Ramirez, and, strangely, Howard.
Maybe there’s hope for you after all, she realized.
“No,” she said, “I don’t care what happens to me. I care what happens to people in my life that mean something to me.”
“And I mean something to you?” he asked.
Avery faced him.
“Unbelievably, yes,” she admitted.
Randall’s eyes went glossy with tears.
“You said as much the last time you were here, and your continued appearance means more than words, but it’s nice to hear, especially in this place.”
“Why?” Avery asked. “I heard you have a slew of visitors.”
Randall wiped his eyes.
“Do I sense a hint of jealousy?” He smiled. “It doesn’t suit you, Avery.”
“I need your help.”
“I assumed as much.”
“This killer,” she said. “We have so much and yet, nothing seems to fit. I’m starting to lose perspective.”
“What do you know?”
“We have a sketch, shoe size, approximate height. We believe he knew both of the victims, and from what I’ve seen, I think he’s an astrology nut. Both bodies had eerie similarities to certain signs: Virgo and Gemini.”
“Both mutable signs,” he said.
“How do you know that?”
Randall dipped his head demurely.
“Astrology is a fascinating subject,” he said. “One of the earliest forms of philosophy and religion. The star cycles and planetary motions have influenced countless aspects of human society throughout time. That is why people believe that
if you’re a Taurus, for example,” he knowingly smiled at Avery, “you’re considered practical, dependable, and of course extremely stubborn and independent. Wherever the constellations are when someone is born, that energy and power is said to mold and shape that person. Certain constellations bring about great loss, and vitality...and change.”
“I thought maybe change was what he was after. Mutable signs destroy things, tear them down. Maybe he’s trying to restart his life somehow, and this is the way he’s doing it, by murdering people that treated him poorly.”
“Astrologers believe that certain dates and times can be the catalyst for great change.”
“I researched mutability and big events in astrology this month. I couldn’t find anything that matched the pattern of these kills.”
“Really?” he wondered, skeptical.
That look, Avery fumed. He’s giving me that look that means he knows something but he’s not going to tell me what it is.
“Stop playing games with me!” she demanded. “What do you know?”
A cold, distant look came to Randall.
His body seemed to shrink and tense. All the air left the room, and he was alone on his side of the table, dark and unfamiliar.
“There are certain animals that can never be tamed, Avery. They can eat out of your hand and sit on your lap for visitors, but they’re wild at heart—animals. Any relationship with these creatures must be very carefully built and maintained. You have to let them be who they are, in their own environments. If you push them too hard,” he said with a dangerous glare, “they just might bite.”
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
Beyond the prison walls, the sun was high and bright. Avery shielded her eyes and headed to her car. The emptiness of the parking lot and the vast blue of the sky made her realize just how empty and vast her current situation had become.
The university class lists, she thought. That’s the final piece. If no names match, we’re back at square one.
Howard’s question stuck in her mind.
Really? Really?
What did he mean? she wondered. I told him I’d researched everything about the signs.
Really?