by Mary Burton
Carnie nodded. ‘I can’t discuss anything about Nicole’s adoption plan.’
‘No. No. I understand that. This isn’t about Nicole. It’s about me.’
Patient green eyes focused on her. Waited.
Kendall moistened dry lips. ‘I want to talk about …’ Even now the words stuck in her throat. She sat a little straighter. ‘About my adoption.’
Carnie’s eyebrows rose. ‘What can I do to help you?’
Kendall tapped her foot. In the span of seconds, she felt disloyal to her mother and angry that the same woman had so completely hidden the truth of her past. She pulled the letter from her briefcase. ‘I found this in my mother’s paperwork.’ She handed the paper to Carnie.
She studied the paper. ‘What do you need from me?’
Her mouth felt dry. ‘I want to find out about my birth parents. Can you help me find them?’
Carnie sighed. ‘It’s not that simple.’
‘What do you mean? I’m over twenty-one.’ She hesitated. ‘My adoptive parents are dead. Why can’t you just point me in the right direction? Isn’t there someplace where these records are kept?’
Carnie sat back and set the letter on the pile of papers in the middle of her desk. ‘Your adoption was a closed adoption and it took place before nineteen eighty-nine.’
Impatience welled. ‘Okay.’
‘The search process is much more detailed in cases like yours.’
‘But they are my records. I have a right to know where I came from.’
Carnie kept her voice even, but the frown lines around her mouth deepened. ‘Hey, I’m on your side. I’m an adult adoptee and I’m searching for my birth family too. And for the record, I’ve been searching for three years.’
‘Three years.’ God, she couldn’t go three years of more dreams.
A bitter smile tipped the edge of Carnie’s full lips. ‘Don’t get me started.’
‘So what are you telling me, that it’s going to take years to find my family?’
‘Virginia has very clear laws about closed adoption searches. But that doesn’t mean all this is impossible. Who knows? You might get lucky and the search will go quickly.’
Kendall was good at masking her emotions. Anger or frustration could shut down an interview in a flash. She had to keep her cool. But it was a struggle to keep calm. ‘What do I do?’
Carnie looked truly sorry. ‘The search has to be done through the agency that placed you.’ She glanced at the paper. ‘Virginia Adoption Services. I know them. They had a fire in their building last fall. They lost a lot of paperwork and were forced to close their doors. I’ll have to do a little checking to see what records survived and whom they turned their records over to.’
‘Then what?’
‘The social worker who now has charge of your file will contact the birth parents, and if they are willing to meet or have contact, they will let the social worker know.’
‘And if they don’t want to see me?’
‘Then that’s the end of it.’ Carnie’s eyes softened. ‘There’s another wrinkle. If your birth parents have passed, then the search gets more complicated.’
Kendall leaned forward. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The social worker would have to determine if you have any siblings and if they are aware of the adoption. If they’re not, then the social worker can’t pass any information on to you.’
Resentment and desperation collided in her. ‘I need to know where I came from.’
Carnie pulled out a stack of forms. ‘I know. I know. It can be frustrating.’
‘My life feels like a movie. Like I’ve walked in the middle of the first act. Only what is happening now directly relates to the first moments of the movie.’
‘Look, let’s get the process started. See what happens. It may go faster than you think.’
Kendall pursed her lips. ‘Fine. Whatever.’
‘I’ll do what I can to help you.’
Kendall sighed. ‘Look, I know I’m being a bitch about this. And I do appreciate your help. I’m just frustrated.’
‘I understand.’
Kendall clenched her fists. ‘I can’t believe this is going to be so difficult.’
‘Did your mother have friends at the time of your adoption?’
Kendall shrugged. ‘I suppose. Why?’
‘The adoption process can be quite emotional for the adoptive parents. Often they confide in friends or family about what is happening.’
‘My mother wasn’t the chatty type.’
‘You’d be surprised how women talk when it comes to becoming a mother.’
Kendall’s heart raced at the possibility. She thought back to the photo album her mother had kept and remembered seeing a picture of a woman her mother had once been close friends with. ‘There was one woman.’ What was her name? Jenny somebody. Her name was in the album.
‘Start with her. In the meantime, I’ll track down the contact person who is now handling the agency’s records.’
Already her mind skipped ahead to finding this woman. She rose. ‘Carnie, thanks. I mean that.’
‘No sweat. Keep me posted, will you? I want to know how this goes for you.’
‘Sure.’ She paused. ‘No one knows that I’m adopted and I’d like to keep it that way for now.’
‘Of course.’
Kendall left Carnie’s office and drove straight back to her house. For so many years she’d pushed the thought of a search out of her mind and now it consumed her as if her life depended on it. As she waited for a light to change from red to green, she pushed open her cell phone and dialed Brett’s number. He picked up on the second ring.
‘Brett, it’s Kendall.’
‘Kendall. Where are you?’ He sounded annoyed. Typical.
‘It’s a long story, but I’m going to be late today. I’ll be back in time for the editorial meeting at two.’
He huffed into the phone. ‘Kendall, I need you here. The day is jam-packed.’
‘I edited the footage from the double murder story last night. My copy is written. If the police announce the name of the second victim call me. I’ll come back.’ No sense telling him she was sorry. She wasn’t.
‘This isn’t like you.’
No, it wasn’t. Work and deadlines had always come first for her. But she couldn’t explain to Brett that she needed to find her birth family. She needed to finally fill the hole that had been inside her for as long as she could remember. ‘Like I said, I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
Brett’s voice dropped. ‘Are you with a guy?’
‘What?’ She would have laughed if not for the bite in his voice.
‘That cop who was here this morning. You’re seeing him, aren’t you?’ Anger hissed.
Her spine straightened. ‘Who I spend my time with is none of your business.’
‘It is if it impacts this station.’
She could picture him sitting at his desk staring out the window, his back to his office door. ‘The station isn’t going to fall apart because I’m a couple of hours late today.’
‘Get back to the station now, Kendall.’
‘I’ll be in soon.’
‘I hired you; I can fire you.’
She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. ‘My ratings are too good. You’d be a fool to fire me.’
‘Everyone’s replaceable.’
She gripped the phone. ‘You manipulative worm. How dare you threaten me. I’m good at what I do and the ratings went up because of me just as much as your advertising campaign.’
‘Don’t be so sure.’
‘I can leave Channel Ten and get picked up by another station.’ The money wouldn’t be as good, but she’d manage, even if she had to sell her house and move to another market. Of course, leaving Richmond now was not what she wanted. But pride kept her from backing down.
Brett was silent for a moment before he sighed into the phone. ‘Kendall, just come by the station. We need to talk. You�
�re making me nuts.’
A horn behind her blared and she realized the light had turned green. ‘I’ll see you at two and if that means you have to fire me, then so be it.’
She hung up, tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, and punched the gas. Anger roiled inside her. Her cell phone rang. She didn’t need to glance at the phone to know it was Brett. She turned off the phone and headed to her house. She parked in front and dashed up the front steps.
When she pushed through the front door of the house, a heavy haze of sawdust lingered in the air. A machine blared in the kitchen. Todd was sanding floors today. The cabinets were coming today. Todd was friendly and liked to chat, but she didn’t have the patience for small talk so she bypassed the kitchen and dashed upstairs to the second bedroom, where she kept the photo album tucked in a box under the bed.
She flipped the pages of the album until she found the picture of her mother and Jenny. The caption read Irene and Jenny Thornton celebrate their fortieth birthdays.
Kendall had forgotten that Irene and Jenny shared the same birthday. She moved to her bedside and pulled out a phone book. She scanned the T’s until she found Mrs Jennifer R. Thornton. Shoreham Drive.
She dialed the number. Her heart raced.
On the third ring the phone was picked up. ‘Hello.’ The woman’s voice was old, fragile.
Kendall cleared her throat. ‘I’m looking for Jenny Thornton. She was a friend of Irene Shaw.’
Silence followed. ‘Who is this?’
She gripped the phone. ‘This is Kendall. Irene’s daughter.’
‘Kendall. I haven’t seen you since you were a toddler.’ Running water from a tap in the background shut off.
Her throat felt dry. ‘I was wondering if I could come by and talk to you about Mom.’
‘Sure, honey, when?’
Emotion welled inside her. The hectic pace of these last few months had pushed thoughts of her mother from her mind. She’d almost thought she was immune to the grief. Now she realized she wasn’t. Her mom would be so disappointed if she knew about this search. She shoved the guilt aside. ‘Now.’
‘Sure. You come on by. I’d love to see you. My word, it’s been so long.’
The distance of the phone annoyed Kendall. She needed to see Mrs Thornton, look her in the eye when they spoke. ‘Thanks.’
Kendall hung up the phone and hurried down the stairs. Todd had turned off the sander, and when she reached for the front door he poked his head out of the kitchen. Sawdust covered his hair. ‘Ms Shaw. I thought you’d left for work.’
She forced a smile. ‘I forgot something. I was just heading back out.’
He nodded as he dug his hand into his pocket. ‘I found something I thought you might be interested in.’
‘Please don’t tell me you found rotted floorboards or a dead body behind the wall.’
He grinned. ‘Nothing so serious.’ He pulled a small mirror from his pocket. ‘Found this behind the wall.’
She crossed the hallway toward him and accepted the mirror. Trimmed in silver, it fit into her palm. The silver had tarnished and the glass had grown dull. It wasn’t an expensive piece but it possessed a charm. She turned it over and scrawled on the back was the initial E.
‘Where did you say you found this?’
‘It was behind the cabinets. Must have been put there when the last kitchen renovation was done.’
‘That would have been in the late fifties.’
He shoved worn, calloused hands through his dark graying hair. ‘Maybe. Likely some little girl tucked it away and then lost track of it.’
She turned the mirror over in her hands trying to imagine the owner. A flicker of a memory danced at the edge of her mind and then it was gone.
He took a step back. ‘Well, I best get back to work. And you look like you’re in a rush.’
She tore her gaze from the mirror. ‘Yeah. Thanks, Todd.’
‘Glad to help. And you’ll be glad to know that your cabinets are on schedule. I gave the manufacturer hell when he told me he was going to be late.’
The renovation had been so important to her just days ago and now it felt so unimportant. ‘Thanks.’
She tucked the mirror in her pocket and left him standing in the hallway. The cold morning air bit her skin as she dashed toward her car. Just in the last few minutes, the heat had dissipated and the interior was cold again.
She slid behind the wheel and fired up the engine. She glanced at her phone and saw that she’d missed two calls. She checked the numbers. Brett. For the first time since she’d taken the job as news anchor, she wondered if she’d made the right decision. Money and fame hadn’t satisfied her as she’d thought they would.
The muscles in Jacob’s lower back bunched painfully as he pushed through the doors of the conference room. The county’s four other homicide detectives were waiting when he strode in. At the head of the table was his boss, Sergeant David Ayden. To the right sat Zack and across from him sat Detectives Nick Vega and C.C. Ricker. Vega was a New York transplant who’d lived in Virginia fifteen years. Dark hair hinted at Hispanic heritage. C.C. had red, curly hair and an athlete’s short, compact body.
Jacob laid his folder on the table, opened it, and removed head shots of the two victims pre- and postmortem. He moved around the conference table to a dry-erase board, where he hung up the pictures with magnets.
Jackie and Vicky were from opposite ends of life. Jackie’s straight, conservative haircut contrasted with Vicky’s short, spiked hair with purple and red highlights. Vicky had painted her nails black and had six tattoos. Jackie had neatly trimmed nails, no polish, and no tats.
Still, the women shared stunning similarities. High cheekbones. The shape of their lips. And their vivid green eyes.
David sipped his coffee. ‘Do you think we have a serial killer?’
Leave it to him to voice the fear lurking in all their minds. ‘Before we go there let’s look at what we have so far,’ Jacob said.
David nodded. ‘Fair enough. I want my facts crystal clear when I go to the chief.’
‘Jackie White is our first victim. Thirty-eight. Separated. She and her husband fought a month before she died. Several of her neighbors heard the exchange. He left before anyone thought to call the cops. He had motive and opportunity. The last sighting of Jackie White was on a surveillance tape on Friday night. A man approaches her; then she vanishes from view.’
‘Is Phil White linked to the second victim?’ Nick asked.
‘No,’ Zack answered. ‘He has an airtight alibi for that murder. He was marrying his pregnant girlfriend in a church in Northern Virginia. There were twenty witnesses.’
A rumble of disapproval echoed in the room.
Jacob shuffled through the file in front of him. ‘Vicky Draper, age thirty-five. Did five years for drug trafficking. She’s been out of jail two years. Her motel room was chockful of prescription drugs. She was last seen on Friday morning. She and a friend of hers were drinking. She went out for more tequila and never came back.’
Jacob nodded toward the pictures. ‘Both women were strangled from behind. Both the bodies appear to have been kept in a sitting position before being moved. White’s lividity discoloration is more pronounced and suggests the killer kept her body longer.’
Zack took over. ‘Dr Butler believes the killer had very large, powerful hands. Both women’s larynxes were crushed. Both women had rope burns on their wrists and feet.’
‘We have victims who share similar facial features and they both were wearing identical charms,’ Jacob said. ‘Each charm was inscribed with a different name.’
Zack continued. ‘Gold, oval shaped with a name inscribed on them. ‘Ruth’ on White and ‘Judith’ on Draper.’ His gaze settled on Vega and Ricker. ‘Anything on the necklaces?’
Nick drew circles on the legal pad in front of him. ‘Nothing. We’ve hit at least thirty jewelry stores. No one knows anything. We’ve got detectives in robbery scanning the Net and checkin
g pawnshops as well.’
David tapped his pencil on the edge of his legal pad. ‘So how is he choosing his victims?’
‘We don’t know yet,’ Jacob said.
‘Ruth and Judith are women in the Bible,’ Nick offered.
David pressed his fist to the spot above his right eye as if he had a headache forming. ‘So we have a religious freak on our hands?’
‘My Bible is lacking,’ Jacob said. ‘What else can you tell us about these two women – Ruth and Judith. I mean the ones in the Bible.’
Nick shrugged. ‘Both very virtuous. Ruth stayed with her mother-in-law during a great famine. And Judith was a bit of a warrior who helped save her people from the enemy.’
C.C. folded her arms. ‘I’m impressed, Nick.’
He shrugged. ‘Thank Sister Mary Margaret, my Sunday school teacher in the third grade. She made us memorize a good bit of the Bible.’
‘It’s not only the mode of murder but the charms that link these killings,’ Jacob said.
‘Which brings us back to the Bible theory,’ David said.
A headache throbbed behind Jacob’s eyes. ‘Maybe. But I don’t think so.’ He flipped through the pages of his file.
‘Why?’ David challenged.
Jacob tapped his finger on his thigh. The Bible theory looked good on paper but his gut told him it wasn’t the key to this case. ‘I don’t know.’
David arched a brow. ‘Did these women grow up near each other?’
C.C. rechecked her notes. ‘No. Jackie was an only child. She went to VCU and got a degree in teaching. Her parents were older. Both passed about eight years ago. Vicky was a foster kid. She bounced around a lot but never could be placed. Trouble from day one.’
Two unrelated backgrounds.
Jacob tapped his thumb on the table. The killer saw something in these women that had attracted him to them. Was it simply the brown hair and similar facial features?
David tapped his thumb on the file. ‘Send a report to ViCap and CODIS. Let’s see if our guy did this thing somewhere else.’
‘I did that last night,’ Jacob said.
‘Good. These killers don’t always just pop up out of nowhere. Often killing is the last step in a string of events.’