“This is probably the safest place you could be right now. Every inch of this park has been thoroughly inspected by the fine boys in blue,” Prejean answered. “Me included. I’d offer to accompany you ladies, but I didn’t get the memo to bring along my running gear.”
Prejean outstretched his hand to Charlotte, and Julia made the introductions.
“Are you a journalist, too?” Prejean asked.
“No way. I don’t have the stomach for that. I’m a wedding florist.”
“Working for high-maintenance brides sounds like it could be more stressful than police work,” Prejean said.
“I love it. Weddings are usually one of the happiest days of a couple’s lives, the groom’s included,” Charlotte said. “My wedding was wonderful. My marriage and divorce, not so much.”
“So you’re single?” Prejean asked.
“And we’re taking a run now. See you later, Prejean.”
“Tell you what. Just so Charlotte’s comfortable with the police being here, I’ll hang out for a bit until you’re done. A woman almost got picked up here this morning, so you can’t be too careful.”
“Is this connected to the female runners who were killed?” Charlotte asked.
“It is, but the woman got away. And there’s no way the guy who tried to nab her is coming back here anytime soon,” Prejean said. He leaned back against Julia’s car and folded his arms across his dark blue windbreaker. “Just consider me your bodyguard.”
“I’m okay to run here, but if you’re willing to stay, I won’t say no,” Charlotte said to Prejean.
“Don’t worry. I’m armed and dangerous,” Prejean said, and gave Charlotte a slow, easy smile.
Julia grabbed Charlotte by the arm, cutting off Prejean’s play, and the two women exited the parking lot in the direction of the running trails.
“So you brought me here to look at the scene of the crime?” Charlotte asked, and fingered a silver Peace charm that hung on a thin chain around her neck.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve been completely honest with you. If you want to leave, I understand.”
“As long as no deranged freak tries to grab me, I don’t mind being here. I always thought it would be cool to be an investigative reporter, but I think I’d be too chicken. Do you ever get scared in your job?”
“No.”
“Did anyone ever threaten you because you were writing an article about them they didn’t like? You must have some crazy stories.”
The faces of the top fifty murderers, rapists, pedophiles, white-collar criminals, and drug dealers who Julia had hostile, if not life-threatening, dealings with during the last fifteen years on her beat, flashed through her memory like cards being shuffled in a deck.
“I know how to handle myself.”
“You don’t like questions, I can tell,” Charlotte said.
“I don’t have a problem with questions, as long as I’m the one asking them.”
“I make my clients do an icebreaker when I first meet them. I have the groom tell his bride-to-be something he’s never told anyone else before. There are a few ground rules: nothing kinky, illegal, or a response that would upset their partner. You’d be surprised. Most couples go for it and the guy usually tells some sweet story about his childhood and then his girlfriend gets all mushy. I know it probably sounds ridiculous, but couples, especially the brides, get really uptight about weddings, and my little icebreaker helps bring down the stress level from the get-go. I know it makes my life easier. Now that you’ve dragged me to this creepy place, you’ve got to tell me something about yourself.”
“I’m not one of your clients.”
“See, you’re avoiding opening up.”
“You sound like my book editor. Okay. I’ve never been scared when I was working a story. There’s an adrenaline rush that pushes everything else out of the way. But that’s not why I became a reporter. I went into journalism because I wanted to give other people answers that I couldn’t find for myself. My brother was abducted when we were kids. His case went unsolved for thirty years, but I helped find my brother’s killer a few months ago.”
“My God, Julia. That’s so horrible.”
Charlotte unclasped the Peace necklace around her neck and handed it to Julia. “I want you to have this. A friend of mine gave it to me when I was going through my divorce. Pass it on to a woman who needs it, once you find what you need.”
“Thank you, but I’m fine. Really.”
“After something like that happened? How can you ever be? Women need to look out for each other. Come on, lift up the hair.”
Julia realized she wasn’t going to be able to say no and let her new friend put the necklace on her.
“Maybe it will bring you good luck,” Charlotte said. “Don’t kill me on the trails. I get the feeling you’re a hard-core runner. I’m a couple-of-miles, twice-a-week type of girl.”
“I’ll go at whatever pace you like. The cops combed the park and the trails already, but I’d still like to take a look, so slow is fine by me.”
“I like your friend. I’ve never dated a cop,” Charlotte said.
“Prejean is a good guy. Most cops are. I’m dating a police officer.”
“I had a run-in with a cop a couple weeks ago. I was leaving a job in the city I picked up at the last minute, and I was in a hurry to get Steven from his dad’s, because my ex is an ass and would’ve pitched a fit if I showed up thirty seconds late. I was speeding and got pulled over. The cop, he was a good-looking guy and asked me on a date. I would’ve said yes, but he was wearing a ring, so I told him I don’t date married guys. He wound up letting me go without a ticket.”
“Did you report him?”
“For what?”
“For using his badge to try and pick up a woman. If he was a Detroit cop, did you get his name?”
“I don’t remember. I didn’t feel like he was doing anything wrong. Even if he was out of bounds, I’m not a big fan of rocking the boat, especially with law enforcement.”
“Your call, but I think he was in the wrong. Are you ready?” Julia asked, and pushed her way through the turnstile to the running trails.
The park was relatively small, just five acres, and Julia stuck to the main trail, which was bookended by a thick nestle of trees on either side. Julia figured these were easy spots for the killer to have hidden as he likely stalked Christy during her previous morning runs, while he patiently learned and mastered her routines.
Julia and Charlotte made two loops around the one-mile trail. The two women turned the corner to start the third mile, but stopped when they saw Prejean in the middle of the path, walking in their direction.
“We’ve got company. Thank God. You’re killing me,” Charlotte said to Julia. “Can we take a break? Just a minute breather. That way, you won’t have to bring out the paddles to resuscitate me.”
“We can stop.”
Charlotte leaned up against the thick trunk of an eastern white pine, the needles from its branches splayed out like bony green fingers behind her.
“Did you change your mind about the run?” Charlotte asked Prejean.
“No, but I thought it would be a good idea to check on you ladies. I told you I’d be your bodyguard.”
A patch of gray-black clouds slipped over the sun, and Prejean covered his eyes with a hand to look up at the darkening sky.
“It looks like another storm is coming. Never trust a weatherman. The forecast I saw this morning called for clear skies,” Charlotte said.
Prejean continued to look up, unmoving with rapt intent, as if assessing the proximity of the pending storm.
“We missed something. Up there, Julia,” Prejean said, and pointed up to a tall birch on the left of the path. “Right there, on one of the middle branches,” Prejean said.
At first, Julia saw nothing, but then caught something swaying back and forth in the breeze.
Julia focused in on the object and realized it was a cloth doll, with long black hair and
a blue dress. The doll was made of crude, coarse fabric, and two black X’s were drawn where the eyes should have been. The doll had a noose around its neck and hung from a thin, peeling gray branch of the tree.
“What is that?” Charlotte asked.
“It looks like a voodoo doll to me,” Prejean said.
“Holy shit,” Charlotte said. “I’m never running with you again.”
CHAPTER 21
The windshield wipers of Julia’s SUV darted back and forth in front of her line of vision as the downpour from the storm continued.
Julia felt like every single pore of her body was waterlogged. Charlotte had left the park after Prejean discovered the doll, but Julia had stayed behind and waited until Prejean climbed up the tree and retrieved it. Julia and Prejean got caught in the downpour a mile from the parking lot and were officially soaked to the bone from the unexpected storm by the time they reached their respective cars.
Julia blasted her heater on full throttle to help stop her shivering, but her wet running pants and shirt that stuck to her freezing-cold skin weren’t helping matters. She ignored the steady drips of water from her hair and pulled off the I-75 exit to her paper.
Prejean promised he’d call with any updates, but without a peep from him in the last thirty minutes, Julia called Navarro.
“Tell me you have something,” Julia asked through chattering teeth.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I got caught in the rain at the park, and I didn’t have time to change. Did you get anything on the doll?”
“Nothing but dead ends. Just like everything else the killer left behind, there were no prints. I sent a picture to Roseline, and she said it wasn’t one of hers.”
“There’s got to be a way to track it,” Julia said. She pulled into the parking garage next to her paper and was surprised over her luck when she nabbed a coveted spot on the first floor.
“I spoke to LaBeau. He says our team and the Royal Oak cops combed over every inch of the park. LaBeau swears they were thorough, and he can’t understand how they missed it.”
“It’s not like the doll had a neon light shining behind it. The woods there are pretty thick. I ran the path twice and didn’t see it.”
“Between us, this voodoo doll thing doesn’t add up. I checked the weather forecast. It poured last night and didn’t stop until five-thirty this morning. Christy King got to the park at six-fifteen. So even if the killer gets to the park before Christy, is he really going to go to all that trouble to scramble up a wet tree to leave the doll? Prejean brought the doll into the station and it was dry. The way I see it, the doll would’ve been at least damp from the water that was still on the tree.”
“When I got to the park, the ground was damp. My sneakers were wet on the bottom.”
“When were you there?”
“Ten-thirty. It was overcast all morning. But maybe the sun dried whatever water got on the doll.”
“Just to be sure I have this straight, Prejean shows up unexpectedly on the trail during your run.”
“Prejean was already at the park. It’s not like he appeared out of thin air.”
“But he’s at the exact place on the path where the doll was found. Think about it. Prejean knows about voodoo. And he obviously likes you.”
“If you’re insinuating Prejean is the killer, to my knowledge, he doesn’t drive a Buick. I’m going to run a story on the doll.”
“Hold off. We’re going back out to Mayberry Park and the Dequindre Cut path at the RiverWalk to see if we missed anything. I don’t want the public searching parks for dolls in trees like it’s some kind of scavenger hunt. Chief Washington agrees. I’ll let you know if we find anything,” Navarro said, and then turned to personal business. “I picked up the keys to the apartment. I’ll meet you at Logan’s game tonight, and we can all drive over together.”
“Thanks. Logan will love that you’re there. I’m not convinced Logan’s buying my line about moving into the apartment short-term so we can do repairs on the house.”
“He’s a smart kid. Do me a favor, put on some dry clothes before you freeze to death.”
Julia hung up with Navarro, grabbed her purse and a bag with a change of clothes, and headed to her paper. She got as far as the elevators when she heard the sports editor, Scott Baylor, call out to her from behind.
“What happened to you, Gooden? You look like a drowned ferret,” Baylor said. “Are you okay?”
“Thanks for the compliment. And I’m fine,” Julia answered. The elevator doors opened and the people getting inside began to shoot her glances, probably hoping she wouldn’t be standing right next to them in the confined space as she drip-dried.
“You coming, Julia?” Baylor asked from inside the elevator as he stopped the doors from closing.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take the stairs,” she said. Julia bounded up to the seventh floor, escaped into the ladies’ room, and did her best to dry her hair with the cheap, generic brown paper towels in the dispenser and changed in the bathroom stall.
She did a quick inspection of herself in the mirror. Her hair was still damp and her nose was red from the cold, but at least she was out of her wet clothes.
Julia hoped she’d make it to her desk in peace, but she got only halfway across the newsroom when Virginia pounced from behind.
“Goddamn it, Julia. You need to answer my calls,” Virginia said, but then paused when Julia turned around. “What happened? You look like shit.”
“Thanks. I’m getting a lot of that today. I’ve got an update, but I can’t write it until I get the green light from the Detroit PD. We won’t get beat, I promise.”
“I don’t like to gamble, but what’s the story?”
“The Louisiana cop I told you about, I was with him in the park where the woman was almost abducted and he found a voodoo doll strung up with a noose around its neck hanging from a tree. It’s the same pattern. The doll had on a blue dress and black hair, just like the two victims.”
“I don’t feel good waiting on the story. I want you to call that woman who escaped from the park and get a few comments on the record from her. And I want to use her name.”
“I’m not outing her. She’s a victim and wants to remain anonymous. That’s her choice and we need to honor that.”
“Victim is a gray area here. Was she hurt?”
“No. But she could’ve been killed. I gave her my promise. She’s got a kid and she’s scared.”
“The killer already knows who she is and probably where she lives, too. Why does she care about being identified? I don’t want to get beat on this.”
“Do you even hear yourself anymore, Virginia? I’m not doing it. You want to fire me, go ahead.”
Julia knew her editor was right behind her, but she didn’t turn around. She made the familiar route to her desk and saw a bouquet of lavender roses sitting on top of it.
“That cop of yours has good taste,” Virginia said.
Julia was surprised that Navarro would’ve had the time in the middle of the MMK case to send her flowers. She pulled out the attached card and read its message from the sender, not Navarro, but Alex Tillerman.
Julia!
It was great running into you at the restaurant the other night.
The ball is in your court. Give me a call.
Alex
Julia didn’t think for a second that Tillerman was pining for her. His sudden renewed interest likely piqued because she hadn’t reached out to him since their brief encounter. But still, Julia knew Navarro would want to rule him out as a suspect in the Magic Man killings. Julia picked up the bouquet and headed with it into the breakroom, where a group from the sports desk was gathered around a table watching the last inning of a baseball game that was playing on a TV mounted on the wall.
“Hey, nice posies,” Scott Baylor called out.
“You like them? You can have them,” Julia said. She opened up the top of the trash can and stuffed the bouquet inside.
* * *
The parking lot of the gym where Logan was playing his basketball rec-league game was beyond packed. Julia hurried through the front door of the building and already heard the roar from the crowd echoing like a collective team-fight song booming down the hallway.
Julia did a quick glance at her watch and felt guilty for not making the start of Logan’s game. She walked quickly by a table decorated with orange balloons and a banner that read: EARLY REGISTRATION FOR YOUR YOUNG ATHLETIC STARS!
She pushed her way through the gym doors and saw that Logan’s team had the ball. Julia watched with pride as her son hustled down the court, not with an awkward gait like some of the boys, but with the fluid instinct of a natural athlete. She then scanned the crowd and spotted Helen and Will high up in the stands.
As Julia made her way to the bleachers, a burly man in the front row wearing the rival green team’s jersey jumped to his feet and burst into a stadium chant when one of his players scored.
He gave a fist pump in the air. “The Cougars are sucking wind tonight.”
The coach for Logan’s team shot the man a look, and Julia moved in closer to put a muzzle on the beefy man’s trash talk.
“Cut it out,” Julia said. “It’s just a game. These kids are nine years old. They don’t need to be intimidated by parents on the sidelines.”
“I’m guessing your kid plays for the Cougars,” the man said. “You wouldn’t be saying that if it was your son who scored the shot instead of mine. Your team sucks.”
“Did you really just say that to me? You’re ridiculous,” Julia said.
“You think you’re tough? I work at a prison.”
“Which one?”
“The Detroit Detention Center.”
“I’m a crime reporter, and I date a Detroit police detective. I’ve never seen you at the DDC before. What do you do there?”
The man looked out at the court as his swagger wilted. “I transfer prisoners.”
“So you drive the bus. Those are little kids out there. Stop giving them a hard time.”
You Fit the Pattern Page 20