“You should know that Judge Stillwell issued a warrant for us to search your house and grounds,” Dallas explained. “Your wife has already told us where she hid the hammer she used to bludgeon Jazzy.”
Farlan MacKinnon crumbled right before Dallas’s eyes. A proud old man almost literally brought to his knees by guilt and regret. When he swayed, unsteady on his feet, Dallas grabbed his arm. “Come on into my office and sit down for a few minutes.”
“I should go see Veda.”
“That can wait.” Dallas motioned toward his closed office door. “If you’d like, you can use my private line to contact Quinn Cortez. I guess everybody knows he’s one of the best trial lawyers in the country. Your wife is fortunate that you’re not only wealthy enough to afford Cortez, but that you’re willing to spare no expense to help her.”
“You’re wondering what sort of man I am, aren’t you? How could I be concerned about a woman who wants to kill both of my daughters, who probably tried to kill them when they were babies and also probably killed their mother?”
“It’s not my job to judge anyone, Mr. MacKinnon.” “You’ve seen Veda. Surely you see how emotionally fragile she is.”
“If you mean crazy—”
“Yes. She’s suffered with mental problems all her life. Inherited from her father, who killed himself when she was a young girl. I thought I did the right thing thirty years ago. I told myself that for Brian’s sake . . .” MacKinnon’s voice cracked. “I believe I would like to use your office for a few minutes, if that’s all right with you, Chief Sloan.”
“Go on in,” Dallas said. “No one will bother you. Make what calls you need to make, and when you’re ready to see your wife, let me know.”
“Thank you.”
Reve put on her silk pajamas, then wrapped the matching robe around her as she slipped into her house shoes and headed toward the kitchen. She intended to go to bed early and get a full night’s sleep. Tomorrow she’d meet with Dr. Cornelius to discuss Jazzy’s therapy. If her sister would receive the best treatment in Nashville, then that was where she’d go. Or if it was California or even somewhere in Europe, it didn’t matter. The only thing that was important was helping Jazzy return to her old self.
After filling a mug with water, Reve popped it into the microwave to heat, then removed a bag from the box of Earl Grey tea she’d brought with her when she moved into Jazzy’s apartment. She pulled back the curtain over the sink and peeked out into the dark night. Just seeing the police car still parked below, although she couldn’t actually see the policeman from this vantage point, reassured her that she was safe.
The microwave beeped. She removed the hot water, dumped in a tea bag and timed it for a minute, then discarded the bag. Carrying the mug into the living room, she decided that she’d drink her tea and watch the late night news before going to bed.
She placed the mug on a coaster atop the coffee table, then curled up on the sofa and grabbed the remote control. If she wanted local weather, she’d have to watch WMMK. As she put the TV on that station, she couldn’t help thinking about the fact that Farlan MacKinnon, owner and chairman of the board of MacKinnon Media, was her father. Her father was one of the wealthiest men in Tennessee, actually in the Southeast, probably as wealthy as her adoptive parents, the Sorrells.
“But don’t forget that your mother was a teenage prostitute,” Reve said aloud.
She hadn’t been paying much attention to what the TV reporter was saying until she heard the name Veda MacKinnon. Reve turned up the sound and focused on the television.
“We don’t have all the details, but we’re camped out here in front of the police station and will update you when we know more,” the reporter announced. “What we do know is that earlier this evening, Veda MacKinnon was seen being brought to the police station in handcuffs. Chief Sloan has not made an official statement, but we’re told that Farlan MacKinnon is with his wife, as is Maxwell Fennel, a member of the MacKinnon family and a Cherokee Pointe lawyer.”
As she absorbed the information, Reve sat up straight and scooted to the edge of the sofa. Trying not to assume anything, she told herself to wait and call Dallas to find out what was going on before she allowed her imagination to spin some fantastic scenario.
Too late. Already she was thinking about Farlan MacKinnon’s reaction earlier today when she’d asked him if he knew anyone who would have wanted to harm her mother or would have wanted to see Jazzy and her dead. What more likely suspect than his wife? Veda MacKinnon had known about her husband’s affair with Dinah. What woman wouldn’t have hated her husband’s mistress? And if she’d hated Dinah, then she would have hated Dinah’s twins. But had the woman been vicious enough to try to kill two innocent babies?
Stop tormenting yourself. Call Dallas and ask him what’s going on.
Before she made it to her feet, she heard a repetitive knocking at the front door. Could it be Jacob? Her heart raced wildly as she stood up and rushed across the room. Remembering to be cautious, she looked through the peephole and saw a uniformed policeman. His cap was pulled down over his forehead and his gaze cast downward.
“Ms. Sorrell, it’s Officer Graves. I’m just checking on you. I thought I saw someone in the alley behind Jazzy’s Joint. Is there any way somebody could have gotten in through one of the back windows?”
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
“If you’d like for me to, I can go through the apartment and make sure everything is secure.”
“All right. Thank you.”
She unlocked and opened the door. And only then— when it was too late—did she realize that the man in the uniform, standing on the stoop, was not young officer Graves.
“What are you doing—”
He put a sinister-looking gun to her head and grabbed her arm. “Let’s go back inside, Reve. We have some un finished business to take care of.”
Caleb stormed into the hospital, straight to Room 310. Jacob rose from where he sat at Jazzy’s bedside and headed him off before he woke a peacefully resting Jazzy.
“She’s asleep,” Jacob warned as he motioned for Caleb to follow him out into the hall. “Whatever you have to say to me, you don’t want to upset her.” When Caleb did as he’d requested, Jacob followed him into the hall and closed Jazzy’s door. “Okay, let me have it.”
“I just heard on a news break on WMMK that Veda MacKinnon has been arrested for the attempted murder of Jazzy Talbot.” Caleb glared at Jacob. “Want to tell me what’s going on? According to the reporter, who’d just been issued a statement by Dallas Sloan, Mrs. MacKinnon tried to kill Jazzy earlier this evening.”
“That’s right. Dallas and I caught Veda MacKinnon in the act.” Jacob knew it would be only a matter of seconds before Caleb put two and two together and came up with the inevitable four.
Caleb stood there for several minutes, his eyes glazed, his mind whirling. “You son of a bitch! You sorry ass son of a bitch!” He lunged for Jacob, who effectively held him off by grabbing his shoulders. “You used her as bait, didn’t you? Was Dallas in on this? Dammit, tell me, was he?”
“Calm down. Jazzy is all right. Dallas and I were right across the hall and came in behind Mrs. MacKinnon as soon as she entered the room. Jazzy was never in danger.”
“The hell she wasn’t! How could you have—”
“Jazzy agreed to our plan. She understood that if we could trap her attacker now, she and Reve would be safe, but if we waited—”
“Then Dallas was in on this?”
“Caleb, stop and think. It’s over. Jazzy and Reve are safe from Veda MacKinnon. Mrs. MacKinnon is in custody, and my guess is that she’ll wind up in the loony bin somewhere.”
“If it had been Reve, would you have risked her life the way you did Jazzy’s?”
“I have loved Jazzy like a second sister just about all my life,” Jacob said, struggling to remain calm and in control of his temper. “Do you honestly think I would have put her in harm’s way if I’d thought
I couldn’t protect her?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“If it had been Reve, she would probably have been the one who’d have thought of the plan and insisted on setting a trap.”
Caleb nodded and Jacob could see him relax. “You can leave now,” Caleb said. “I’m staying the rest of the night with Jazzy.”
“All right. I should head on over to the police station to give Dallas a little moral support. I imagine that Farlan MacKinnon and Max Fennel are giving Dallas a hard time, not to mention that asshole Brian.”
When Jacob arrived at the police station, he had to fight his way through a horde of reporters, all clamoring for more details about Mrs. Farlan MacKinnon’s arrest. He was surprised that neither Farlan nor Brian had put a stop to the WMMK and Cherokee Pointe Herald reporters. But maybe they were a little too busy at the moment to realize what was happening.
As soon as Jacob finally got inside the station, Lieutenant Glenn, motioned to him. Jacob met him just outside Dallas’s office. “The chief is questioning Mrs. MacKinnon again. When we found a bloodstained hammer hidden away in the MacKinnons’ attic, exactly where Mrs. MacKinnon said it would be, we figured we had our murder weapon. As soon as the lab can ID the blood as Jazzy’s—”
“I know y’all did a thorough search,” Jacob said. “So, did you find anything else?”
“Odd that you should ask. It just so happens that we found a small gold, heart-shaped locket in a drawer along with a fifteen-foot roll of black braided satin ribbon in a hidden box.”
“The hell you say!”
Black braided satin ribbon! The serial killer’s weapon in every murder, a fact not known by the general public. Was it possible that the man who had brutally raped and murdered countless women over the past quarter of a century was a member of the MacKinnnon family? Maybe Farlan MacKinnon himself? Or even Max Fennel or Judge Keefer? Both were known to spend a great deal of time at the MacKinnon mansion. It would have been easy for either man to have kept the ribbon there for safekeeping. Of course there was Wallace, too, whom he instantly ruled out as a suspect. After all, Wallace was a gentle giant, with the heart and soul of an innocent child. And since discovering that the first murders on record with the Redhead Killer’s MO dated back nearly twenty-eight years, when Brian would have been just a kid, no more than fourteen, it was highly unlikely he was their guy. Of course, children had been known to kill, but in most cases their crimes weren’t sexual in nature.
“Has Dallas confronted Mrs. MacKinnon with the locket and the black ribbon?” Jacob asked.
“She claims she knows nothing about either.”
“How did she explain the black ribbon being in her room?”
“We didn’t find the ribbon in her room.”
“In whose room did you find it?”
“We found both items in a locked box at the bottom of Wallace MacKinnon’s cedar chest.”
“Wallace?”
“Yeah.”
“No way could Wallace be connected to the serial killings. The man’s a child. And a gentle child at that,” Jacob said. “I’m going in there.” He pointed to the interrogation room. “I suppose Dallas has his hands full dealing with old man MacKinnon and Brian, too.”
“Actually Farlan MacKinnon is cooperating completely,” Hendrix said. “And Brian’s not here.”
“You mean that mama’s boy didn’t rush down here the minute y’all told him his mother had been arrested?”
“We didn’t tell him anything. He wasn’t home. Apparently no one knows where he is.”
Chapter 30
Jacob lifted his hand to knock on the door of the interrogation room, but his fist never made contact. The door flew open and Dallas came close to running into Jacob in his hurry to exit the room. Screeching to a halt when only inches separated them, Dallas grunted.
“Damn, man, what’s your hurry?” Jacob asked.
“I had to get out of there for a few minutes,” Dallas said. “Mrs. MacKinnon has finally wound down and is crying quietly now.” Dallas rubbed his forehead. “I’ll be damned if I’ve ever seen a case like this one.”
“Glenn told me she’s confessed to trying to kill Jazzy and even told y’all where you could find the hammer she used.”
“Oh, that’s not the half of it.” Dallas motioned to his office. “I could use a cup of coffee. We might as well take a breather until the doctor gets here.” When Jacob looked at him questioningly, he explained, “I sent for Dr. Cory, the psychiatrist in charge of the psych unit over at County General. We’re going to do all we can to get Mrs. MacKinnon admitted tonight.”
“Then there’s more to this case than two attempts on Jazzy’s life,” Jacob said as he followed Dallas toward his office.
“Yeah, a hell of a lot more, but some of it’s still a mystery.” Dallas opened the door to his office, entered and headed straight for the coffee machine on a stand next to his desk. “It’s not fresh,” he said as he lifted the half-full pot. “But it’s hot and wet. Want a cup?”
Jacob shook his head. “Glenn told me about finding a roll of black satin braided ribbon and a gold locket hidden away in the bottom of Wallace MacKinnon’s cedar chest. What do you make of that?”
Dallas poured himself a cup of coffee, sat behind his desk and lifted the mug to his lips. After taking several sips, he replied, “That’s the mystery. My gut’s telling me that someone associated with the MacKinnons is our serial killer. And we know it’s sure as hell not Veda since our killer is definitely male.”
“I don’t think it could possibly be Wallace,” Jacob said. “I’ve spent a lot time with him ever since I was kid, and the man is as harmless as a fly.”
“I agree. Someone hid the ribbon in Wallace’s cedar chest. But who?”
“What about Farlan MacKinnon? Maybe he killed Jazzy and Reve’s mother. Maybe she was his first victim.”
“It’s possible,” Dallas agreed. “But once again, my gut tells me it’s not Farlan.”
“Then who? And if you say Brian, I’d agree. I despise that son of bitch. I think he’s a mean, vindictive jerk. But if the murders actually began with Jazzy and Reve’s mother, then it’s unlikely Brian’s our man. Brian’s forty-two. He would have been only twelve years old thirty years ago.”
“In all her rambling, Veda kept talking about her brother having been in love with Dinah. And she even ranted at Max, accusing him of being involved with the woman, too. She kept telling her husband over and over again that there was no way he could be certain he’s Jazzy and Reve’s father because there were so many other men in Dinah’s life.”
“If there’s any truth to what she said, then Max Fennel or Judge Keefer could have killed Dinah, right?”
“We’re making some huge assumptions by thinking Dinah was the serial killer’s first victim, especially when we have no real evidence to back up this theory.”
“It’s as good a theory as any,” Jacob said. “And if it turns out we’re right, I say we look closer at Judge Keefer.”
“Why him?”
“Because I honestly don’t think Max Fennel has it in him to kill anybody. I believe he’d cheat, lie and steal, but not kill. On the other hand, Judge Keefer is a quiet, solitary man. And you know the old saying about still waters running deep. Besides, if he was in love with Dinah and she rejected him in favor of –” Jacob’s cell phone rang, effectively halting him mid-sentence. “Damn!”
“You’d better get that,” Dallas told him.
Jacob retrieved his phone from its belt holder, flipped it open and said, “Yeah, Butler here.”
“Jacob . . . help her. Help her now.”
“Genny?”
Dallas’s eyes widened and he mouthed the words, “Is she all right?”
“You have to get to Reve. Right now. He’s going to kill her.” Genny’s voice was weak, each word a struggle.
“Who’s going to kill her?” Jacob’s gut knotted painfully.
“I had the vision over twenty
minutes ago, but I passed out and just now came to. You have to hurry. I didn’t see his face, but he was trying to rape Reve. And he had a black braided ribbon in his pocket. I saw it. He’s going to kill her.”
“I’ll send Dallas home to you right away.” Jacob closed his phone and stuck it back in the holder, then turned to Dallas. “Go home. Genny’s in a bad way. She had another vision. This time she saw Reve being raped and murdered.”
“I’ll contact Graves and warn him to be especially careful,” Dallas said. “Then I’ll head home. Call me as soon as you—”
“I’m heading straight to Jazzy’s apartment.” Jacob was halfway out the door when he spoke.
Reve did everything he told her to do. She had to buy time and hope that someone would discover Officer Graves’s body and realize she was in trouble.
This crazy idiot had killed that poor young officer. He’d bragged about how easy it had been to sneak up on the policeman and kill him.
“Putting a bullet through that cop’s head was almost as easy as renting this police uniform,” he’d told her. “I’ve been outsmarting the law for thirty years. Dallas Sloan isn’t much smarter than that stupid Jacob Butler, so there’s no way they’ll ever catch me.”
Jacob! Oh, God, Jacob, help me. If there is such a thing as telepathy, I wish you could hear my thoughts. I wish you could feel my fear.
Holding the gun in his steady hand, he forced her into the bedroom. She knew the serial killer’s MO, knew what lay in store for her if she wasn’t able to figure a way out of this situation. Bottom line, he was going to kill her, so she actually had nothing to lose. But she had no intention of acting hastily. She would do whatever it took to stay alive for as long as possible. Where there was life, there was hope. And she was going to live!
“Why are you doing this?” she asked as he motioned for her to move closer to the bed.
“Why do you think? Isn’t it obvious that I can’t let Dinah’s daughters live?”
If Looks Could Kill Page 34