“That’s a terrific idea,” Chris exclaimed. “I have more than her toy box. There’s at least six boxes of her stuffed animals in my garage. I wrapped them all in plastic, so they’re like new. The kids at the hospital will love them.” He stopped and stared at a spot on the wall. “Emily would like that. Sherry worked at the homeless shelter and Emily used to tag along. She wanted to be a missionary when she grew up.”
Lily was as excited as he was. “We can stop off at the grocery store on the way. I’ll cook us a nice dinner. Wait for me, I’ll go get dressed.”
Chris moved to the chair while she darted into the bathroom and pulled on a pair of jeans and a white sweater. She was about to grab her purse on the way out when her phone rang.
“Excuse me,” Lily told him. “I’ll have to answer that. I have distinctive rings, and this is the one I use for court emergencies. Why don’t you wait downstairs? If you want a snack or a soda, just look in the refrigerator.” She picked up the receiver. “Judge Forrester.”
“This is Hank Sawyer with the Ventura PD. I’m sorry to disturb you, but we need a search warrant.”
No, Lily thought, not now. But these were the kind of responsibilities she couldn’t shirk. “Give me a quick rundown, Hank.”
“The FBI is working a case that may involve a serial killer. They’ve asked us to submit a warrant for a residence in Thousand Oaks, and for an individual who goes by the name of Chuck Brown.”
“A serial killer in Ventura County!” Lily said. “That’s impossible. I would have heard about it.”
“The Bureau has no reason to believe any crimes have been committed in Ventura County,” the detective continued. “Three men have been murdered, though, all of them dismembered. They found the torso of one victim near San Bernardino. There’s a possibility that the suspect or someone linked to the suspect may be either living or working out of the house in Thousand Oaks. The owner is dead and the house is in probate.”
“Say no more.” Something came to mind and Lily asked, “Why isn’t the FBI handling this?”
“Do you remember Mary Stevens?”
“The name sounds familiar.” Lily could hear Gabby barking. She’d been in the yard for hours, and she wasn’t an outdoor dog. One of the neighbors might hear and be concerned something had happened.
“Stevens used to be a homicide detective here in Ventura,” Sawyer explained. “She’s an FBI agent now, assigned to the unit that profiles serial killers. I have the warrant in my hands. Can I come over and get you to sign it?”
Lily knew Hank Sawyer. He’d been with Ventura PD for longer than she could remember. He reminded her of an Oxnard detective named Bruce Cunningham, the man who had saved her from going to prison. After Cunningham had let her go, he’d resigned from the Oxnard PD and moved back to Omaha where he’d grown up. She’d kept in touch with him throughout the years, then stopped calling because it stirred up bad memories. Cunningham was up in years now, so she assumed he’d retired from law enforcement. She wondered if he knew she was a judge.
Lily returned her attention to Detective Sawyer. “Bring the warrant to my house, Hank. How long do you think it will take for you to get here?”
“First you need to give me your new address.”
“Oh,” Lily said, rattling off the information. “You realize I’ll have to review this document thoroughly before I sign it. Are you going to wait here or come back and pick it up when I’m finished?”
“To expedite things, I think it would be best if I waited. If you have guests, I can wait in my car. It shouldn’t take me more than ten minutes to get there, if that’s okay.”
Lily was so drained, she asked him, “What would you do if I said no?”
“I guess we’d have to find ourselves another judge.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said, thinking it would be absurd if the next person he called was Chris Rendell. “How big is the document?”
“Thirty pages.”
“I’ll see you when you get here.” She hit the disconnect button and started down the stairway to tell Chris what had occurred when she heard the front door opening. This was the first time she’d ever prayed it would be Tessa.
It was Bryce!
Lily felt like locking herself in the bathroom and screaming.
“What the hell are you doing in my house?” Bryce shouted at Chris. “I’m calling the cops. What have you done to my wife?”
“I’m fine,” Lily called out, rushing down the stairs. Chris was standing by the sofa with a horrified look on his face, as if he were certain his picture would be on the front page of tomorrow’s paper. “Get out of here, Bryce,” she said, her voice booming. “I don’t want you here. I demand that you leave at once or—”
“Or what?” he said, furious. “This is my damn house. You get out. First explain to me why there’s a strange man in my den. Have you already replaced me?”
Bryce was unshaven, and his clothes were filthy. She could smell the alcohol seeping through his pores, and she was several feet away. “How did you get out of jail? I thought you said the bank couldn’t send the money until Monday.”
He was wobbling around, so intoxicated he had trouble maintaining his balance. “Caught you, didn’t I? I used a fucking bail bond company. Did you think I was going to sit in jail all weekend? I’ve got enough money to buy my way out of anything.”
“Calm down, Bryce,” Lily said, lowering her voice. She was mortified this was happening in front of Chris, and hoped she could get Bryce to come to his senses and leave. “This is Chris . . . Judge Rendell. An emergency has come up, and a detective is on his way over here.”
Bryce’s eyes darted from Chris to Lily. He swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “What emergency? Its looks like the emergency is between your legs. Now I know why you never want to have sex. How long have you been fucking this guy? He’s not a judge. Nice try, Lily.” He shifted his red-rimmed eyes to Chris. “What are you, asshole? An actor or some kind of male prostitute?”
“You’re drunk, Bryce,” Lily shouted. She pointed at Chris. “He’s a superior court judge just like me. How dare you talk to him like that. Get out!”
Bryce just stood there, uncertain what to believe.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Lily said, adrenaline pumping through her veins. “A cop will be here any minute. He’ll arrest you for being drunk and disorderly, and you’ll end up back in jail.”
“They can’t arrest me in my own house.”
Chris’s hair was disheveled, and he had missed a few buttons on his shirt. “I should go now,” he said, heading for the door. He stopped and turned back around. “That’s if you’re certain you’ll be all right, Lily. I can stay if you need me.”
Bryce pulled back his fist. Lily seized his arm, but he managed to connect with Chris’s jaw. She slapped Bryce in the face, and he retaliated by slugging her, causing her to fall to the floor on her back.
The minute he saw the blood on her face, Chris wrestled Bryce to the floor, then rolled him onto his stomach like a police officer would do and yanked his hands behind his back. “How bad are you hurt, Lily?”
She looked down and saw blood on her white sweater, then pinched her nose with her fingers. Chris’s sedate manner had vanished. He was banging Bryce’s head against the floor. “You never hit a woman, understand? Never! Move and I’ll break your arm. Move again and I’ll break your back.”
Lily went to the powder room a few feet away and returned with a handful of tissues, holding them to her nose. “I’m okay. He must have scraped the inside of my nose with a fingernail. I don’t think it’s broken.”
“Let me go, asshole,” Bryce shouted, trying to wrench away. “Let me go or I’ll kill you. This is my house. You can’t treat a man like this in his own home.”
“Shut up!” Chris was perspiring and his face was flushed in anger. His knee was in the center of Bryce’s back. “You’re guilty of assault. That means you’re going to jail. I am a judge, pal, an
d I witnessed this crime. You won’t make bail this time.” He caught his breath and peered up at Lily, looking as if he were only seconds away from tearing Bryce apart. “If you don’t get the police over here fast, I’m going to hurt him.”
Lily wrapped her arms around her chest, the bloody tissue crushed in her fist. “Detective Sawyer should be pulling up any minute. I can’t believe Bryce threatened to kill you. I’ve never seen him like this before. I’m sorry you had to be a part of this.”
Chris was struggling to keep Bryce on the ground. Bryce was a big man and the thought of going to jail had sobered him and made him fight harder. “Its my fucking house, every penny of it. My own wife set me up. She wants me in jail because I’m going to toss her ass out on the street.”
“Do you understand what you’re doing, Bryce?” Lily asked. “You’re already facing attempted rape charges. Now you’ve assaulted two other people. Judge Rendell is an officer of the court. He’s making a citizen’s arrest. If you keep fighting him, you could be charged with resisting arrest along with everything else. You’ll be lucky to stay out of prison.”
“I didn’t do it,” Bryce said, raising his head a few inches off the ground. “I swear I didn’t do anything to that woman. Why won’t anyone believe me?”
“I don’t think you should wait for that detective,” Chris told her. “Call 911 and get a patrol unit out here. We’re not going to be able to hold him much longer.”
Bryce began blubbering. “You’re breaking my arm. Jesus, Lily, don’t let them send me to prison. I just wanted to get some clean clothes. I shouldn’t have hit you. Is this guy really a judge?”
Lily ignored him and went to the garage. She refused to keep a gun in the house, but she had a baseball bat and she was mad enough to bust Bryce’s head open. She couldn’t let him go upstairs. He’d see the bed and know she and Chris had been having sex.
She stomped back in with the baseball bat, standing over Bryce and waving it in a circle over her head. “Let him go, Chris. If he gives us any more trouble, I’ll clobber him.” She was so angry she couldn’t contain herself. “You don’t need your clothes, Bryce. I packed your bag when you went to Vegas. How can I believe anything you say? You lied and told me you were visiting clients in Lexington and Charleston. You even gave me a phony itinerary.”
Chris got up, reaching down to help Bryce to his feet. “I’m sorry I hit you, Lily,” Bryce said, breathing heavily. “You know I didn’t mean it. I thought something was going on between you and this guy.” He started walking toward Lily and Chris grabbed him again from the back. “Can’t I even talk to my wife? I’m not going to hurt her, I swear.”
Chris stepped backward, opening the front door and dragging Bryce with him, then dumping him onto the grass. Hank Sawyer had just pulled up at the curb. The detective could tell something was wrong and rushed over. When he got up closer, he looked confused. “Aren’t you Judge Rendell? I thought this was Judge Forrester’s residence. What happened here?”
“Judge Forrester is inside,” Chris told him, bending forward at the waist and bracing his upper body with his hands. “Handcuff this man, Detective, and read him his rights, then secure him in the back of your car.”
“Is he a burglar? Can you at least tell me what I’m arresting him for? It’s obvious he’s drunk, but I get the impression something else is going on here.” Sawyer patted Bryce down, then dangled the cuffs in the air. “No disrespect, Judge Rendell, but I can’t just arrest this man without knowing what he did. Now, if you’re making a citizen’s arrest, that’s a different matter.”
Chris just stared into space, refusing to answer.
“I brought a search warrant over for Judge Forrester to sign,” the detective went on. “She acted strange when I called her. Was he inside the house at that time? Is she injured?”
Lily walked over and stood beside the detective and Bryce. Her eyes darted up and down the street; she was thankful there were no neighbors outside, although they could be watching from a window. “I’m all right, Hank. This man is my husband, Bryce Donnelly. He assaulted me, as well as Judge Rendell. Have them dispatch a patrol unit to assist you, then come inside so we can discuss this in private.”
Chris patted his pocket, making certain he still had his car keys. He stared at his Volkswagen, eager to escape, but Bryce’s car was blocking him. Reluctantly, he followed Lily back into the house.
TWENTY-EIGHT
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 1
QUANTICO, VIRGINIA
Pizza boxes were stacked up on a table at the back of the conference room, and a fresh pot of coffee was brewing. Another winter storm had blown in late that morning. The temperature inside the building couldn’t be more than forty degrees. Mary and several of the other agents had put on their coats. She decided the heating system must be on a cycle, and some bureaucrat who worked nine to five had decided the temperature could be dropped to its lowest point at eight-thirty on Friday nights. Sheets of ice were forming on the windows.
Each of the agents had their own stack of crime scene photos and forensic reports in front of them at the long oak table. Two hours after Weir spoke to him, Agent East in Dallas had compiled everything he possibly could on Chuck Brown and the link to Khan’s service station, sending it out to every law enforcement agency in the country.
Adams had scheduled a press conference at ten o’clock tomorrow morning at FBI headquarters in Washington, but he had already released the information the team had gathered on the homicides and the possibility of a link to alibi clubs as a top-priority bulletin to every agent in the Bureau. Multiple copies were sent to the agents’ computers, cell phones, or any other communication devices they had in their possession, FBI or personal. In addition, each agent was required to send back an acknowledgment via e-mail to confirm be had both received and read the bulletin.
Jim Hunt, Bulldog McIntyre, and Mark Conrad were assigned to field any phone calls and handle all inquiries or responses on LEO, the Law Enforcement Online interactive computer system, or intranet, exclusively for law enforcement, which linked all levels of law enforcement in the United States. The bulletin Adams and Weir had prepared was also posted on CJIS, Criminal Justice Information Services, the largest division within the FBI.
The phones began ringing almost as soon as Genna Weir pushed the send button on her computer. According to Hunt, they’d already received over a hundred online responses, and he’d requested that Adams call in more agents to help them.
The long-overdue meeting had finally begun. Everyone had eaten except Mary. Just as she sank her teeth into a slice of pepperoni pizza, the only thing she’d eaten all day outside of a banana, Bulldog McIntyre came in and whispered something to Adams.
“Listen up, people,” Adams barked. “Agent McIntyre, tell them what you’ve got.” When a case started to come together fast, as had occurred today, Adams insisted on formality, knowing it was easy to get confused. By prefacing each name with a title, people had more time to make notes and mentally link whatever was about to be said with the person who was speaking. He had explained this to Mary personally as part of her orientation into the unit. Seeing it in action, she could understand why he had made such a rule.
“I just got off the phone with Special Agent Thomas Thornton from our San Diego Field Office.” McIntyre spoke as he walked to the front of the room, where a United States map was posted on the wall. In case they needed it, there was a drop-down screen in the same location. On the opposite side of the room was a projector. “Agent Thornton is fairly certain Chuck Brown’s real name is John Joseph Baker. Subject John Baker is presently serving the remainder of a five-year sentence for mail fraud at FCC Lompoc. Baker violated his parole just over six months ago.” He coughed several times and then snatched a bottle of water from the table behind him, unscrewing the top and gulping it down.
“Can’t you take a break some other time?” Adams snapped, fidgeting in his chair.
“Sorry, chief, I’m hoarse from talking,” McI
ntyre told him, setting the half-empty bottle down. “Six agents actually called me to find out where they could find an alibi club. I should clarify that. It was six male agents. I thought they were joking, but they were serious. We’re going to need a hell of a lot more people manning the phones tomorrow after your press conference, chief. Trust me, it’s going to be a madhouse around here.”
“Incredible,” Mary said, tossing her pen down. “Don’t they know what kind of crimes we’re investigating?”
Adams slammed his fist down on the table. “We’re not interested in jackasses, Agent McIntyre, not when a serial killer might be out there carving up another victim.”
“Certainly, sir,” he said. “Special Agent Thornton was asked to speak to John Joseph Baker, aka Chuck Brown, one of sixteen aliases, by his parole agent. He claimed to have information about several underground businesses run by a woman he knew only as Katherine. One of those businesses was called the Alibi Connection. He claimed she made a ton of money, and he was certain she didn’t pay her taxes. Guess he was trying to cut a deal. Since Agent Thornton wasn’t able to locate a business by that name, and all the phone numbers subject John Baker gave him appeared to be bogus, Thornton passed the information off to the IRS, and told the guy to enjoy the remainder of his prison term. I asked Agent Thornton if he had a physical description of the woman Baker knew as Katherine, but he said it didn’t seem relevant at the time.”
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